16698/INTERLUDE: Toxins, tanks, tranqs.

INTERLUDE: Toxins, tanks, tranqs.
Date of Scene:	09 February 2025
Location:	Lucifer's Penthouse, Melville
Synopsis:	The sniper that was taken from California is questioned. Hydra has operations in HADES
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Lucifer, Phantasm (Drago)

---

Sinister has posed:
Maybe it's safe to say that on a normal timeline, repairs to an individual living being do not take as long as they've done with this particular individual. A while back, there was an incident in Californ-I-A that resulted in a poisoned tooth incident, a gun and a sniper sent to a task.

Other things got in the way... namely other attempts at this or that or the other.

Also, there were things that required repair that were finicky and involved slow regeneration on the brain, which is always a bit of a delicate proposition. But now? Now the sleeping good-looker in the fluid-filled tank is all 'ready baked' so to speak and Sinister put out a thought regarding it. <<This one is as ready as he's going to be. I don't know if we want to keep him asleep and delve into the mind or if you feel inclined to attempting talk before tried and true telepathic invasion.>>

All this whilst the Geneticist checkss over the readings, adjusts certain levels of intra-cellular infused tranqs and nutrients and stares at the little window that is all that this individual has to view the world without of his capsule -- it's probably not a friendly port-hole, for certain.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer slips into the lab as biohazardly clean as he'll likely ever be. He comes without drink or food - because that would be a faux pas. He does look at the person in the floaty tank and tilts his head one way and then the other. "They always look so calm and peaceful when they're naught but floating beings. In any fashion...whether it's someone who's mad, crazy, or murderous... or being healed for one reason or another.."

He looks around for a place to sit and then decides he'll just sit on the air, one leg crossed over theo ther. "I mean. I can -try- to ask him questions... but I'm not sure I'll know which ones to ask...remember...I almost blew it with Savio."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As for the task, Well that would be floating in a tank. Float float float. Floaty float float. Float Float.

...

Float.

Currently the man in the tank is not contributing much to the conversation. But, with the removal of the hood, the man's face is visible. If it wasn't for being caught with the rifle and one of the persons involved being a mind reader, the man may have gotten away with blending in amongst the people working there as he has the good looks of being somehow part of a family comprised of people who moved to California because of their good looks. But being that he's not all that recognizable, they're probably more a family of extras, waiters, or some other occupation of those who didn't quite make it.

Floaty float float. Float float. Float.

Float...

Well, you get the idea.

Sinister has posed:
"I imagine that there's a good deal to be said for the fact that you're prone to drawing those sand lines, my love. However, I know you're also exceptionally capable of being very persuasive when you want to be, particularly around the mentally susceptible. I guarantee, this individual was mentally susceptible... he wouldn't be in this line of work and gifted of pre-programming and a bit of selective brain surgery, otherwise... but..." Sin looks up from the readings, over at the tank and then to the floating devil, with a shrug. "Come and stare then, it helps a bit..."

With a gesture to sit on the air where the window can be viewed, the telepath in the room quietly and calmly stretches his mind, probing into slumber and out to the archangel to bring him with.

It will hopefully NOT be full of sun, sea, surf and sand, unless that's the man's safe place. You never know, with sleeper agents, or the otherwise brainwashed.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer smirks a little and shifts to where he's invited to sit and stare through the window at the brainwashed man. "Maybe I also like having chances where I can watch you work. It's fascinating and I do not get to see it very often..." He offers this as well and then just stares at the window.

Is the room about to come alive? Will there be moments of peeking into this person's life and perchance into moments of when he gets jobs and targets. Lucifer can't help but clap his hands together a bit more merrily than perhaps one should be in this moment.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
It is probably better that the couple travel into the mind of the captive instead of trying to have a conversation in the land of the waking. Most likely more effective too.

Why did you do this?

Glub. Glub.

Yep. Liquid filled tanks do not typically help with vocal communication.

So as the sinful one grabs the devilish one takes them in, a world that borders upon the opposite of the sterile lab they're actually in.

Despite what may have been hoped for, the presence of sand does betray some type of beach. Water to each side as one walks along the way. Well, it's a beach for now. Judging from the wetness of the center most part of the beach, it appears that it is one that is only exposed during low-tide. Honestly, it seems like most of the visible land is questionable for being still access-able during high tide.

And yet there's the dirty blond walking along the sand. His attire is light colored, seemingly to accommodate for the bright surroundings. Even the holster is lighter colored. But the oddest part about the visual is his relaxed, half smile as he looks to the lapping waves.

Sinister has posed:
A glance around at the sea, the sky, the land that is lacking and the desert island that this seems to embody, has Sinister closing his eyes in the mindscape for a moment, then appropriately wearing white. White robe. White sandals, white hair-tie to hold back his hair. White, on white, in the white of sand and brilliant sky.

He settles hands into the small of his back, glancing to Lucifer and back to the approaching figure. "He'll see us only when you think you're ready. I don't know if you want to do anything... interesting with yourself."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer shifts his glance over to Nathaniel while going from a sitting in air position to standing on white sand. With a glance, then, down and over himself he's soon wearing sandals, a tan robe with a brown corded belt, his hair grows a bit longer and slightly more disheveled. He looks like he was plucked right out of a middle eastern movie or book and set onto the island for some sort of weird survival session.

"What do you think? Too much like Christ on a Cracker?" Then he glances to the man who stares out into the ocean with a relaxed half smile watching lapping waves. "He seems... peaceful. Which is odd to me. You would think he'd be a bit...stand offish perhaps? Or maybe you broke his brain a little too much..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
If the partial smile is of any concern to the visiting couple, rest assured it does adjust! For as the turn of the head brings into sight the couple, it vanishes for a few seconds. In it's place is the practiced smile of someone out here to deal with the public. Or working retail.

The shirt is adjusted, The flap of fabric secured to hide the holster as he walks over to the couple.

"You must be lost. Fortunately where you need to be is not far. It'll just be harder to get to if you're here once high tide sets in." A head tilts in the direction of the highest point of land. "Did you get separated from your excursion or did you two decide to go guideless?"

Sinister has posed:
"You look like an extra in the Life of Brian." Sinister observes, but with a half-wink. He sobers after.

"It's not all that much of a surprise to me -- and I assure you, nothing I did caused it. That's all to do with the kind of mental state you have to be to be a pre-programmed murderer. It tends to do a number on the psyche that can only be countermanded by a kind of ... blissful ignorance."

The approach though, has him murmuring something softly ...'show us /how/ you see' -- in relationship to themselves. The nitty gritty of what this particular psychological subroutine is coloured with, so to speak.

And he steps aside of the spot that he was in, with a click of the fingers just so the two of them can examine the afterimage of what this mind is perceiving them as, before the action resumes once again.

"I'm afraid we went first star on the left and straight on until morning. It's not helpful. Where -are- we?" ask the questions, get the answers.

Lucifer has posed:
"Precisely what I was going for. You, on the other hand, are Mister Brightside, apparently." Then Lucifer winks before he glances back over to the other on this island.

"I didn't really think you had anything to do with it. Conditionings of the mind can be...brutal..." Not that he knows such first hand, but he's had glimpses and whims of it.

When they're approached, he raises a brow, glances about and then from the other man to Nathaniel and back again. "Or some other such as that. Yes. Where we are would be a good place to begin and...who you are will be a second best question answered..." There's even a casual glance where the shirt is covering the spot a holster lies beneath.

"Afraid we're a bit over our heads a bit...hopefully things will right soon."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Sinister's adjustment does provide the two of them a bit more clarity. From the man's perspective, the couple appear to be guests from one of the rare cruises that explores the island. Inconvenient. But an unnecessary truth for here. And based from the attire, Lucifer's likely one that probably had one too many alcoholic beverages at breakfast before disembarking. On a bright side, should his attempts to steer them back to the ship fail, the ship employees shouldn't be concerned if the robed one doesn't show their face for the rest of the itinerary. So long as the boarding card is retrieved and scanned back in.

But that process is annoying. It's easier to just keep them from exploring further.

Sinister's question causes for the man's brow to lift. "Oh! I take it you two didn't read the title text on the port guide they give you. You're on the Ducie Island part of the Itinerary."

With the lack of caution coming from the couple, he comes within a decent speaking distance of them, but more than an arm's length away. "I'm Bob. One of the seasonal caretakers. And When ships are in port I'm mainly here to make sure a visitor doesn't accidentally drown by wandering into the less walk friendly areas of the island."

The smile, so practiced is almost reassuring as he waves a hand towards the other side of the island. Which is maybe about a mile or so away if one was a good judge of visual distance. "We'll get you two back to the ship side of the island. The beach is nice over there as well and you'll have more time to soak in the sun before having to make your way back to ship."

Sinister has posed:
"Bob," Sinister smiles, clicks his fingers again and gently pushes Lucifer out of his 'imagery' allowing the mental thoughts that perceive this intrusion to continue like automatons in the sleeper's vision. He narrows his eyes at the tableau, watching their reflections in the psyche continue interacting with the fellow.

"I think perhaps we ought to see how -his- perception plays this one out without interference. We'll get to observe what the cruise ship is to him and other subconscious hephalumps standing all blanche in the room."

He glances around the island again. "Coral atol, there was an airbase here once, but it's pretty much useless... very high tide marks. I wonder if he disappeared on one of these trips. There's questionable things in the man's memory regarding this place. It might be a catchment area for those that won't be missed."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer raises a brow and then slumps just a little, but is it because he's truly disappointed or playing into the part he's been given. "Mmn. Yes. I'm afraid I was lured by the sparkles of this beach. It's so pretty." He tightens the belt on his 'robe' and then glances to Nathaniel and nods his head. "Seems to be easy enough then. And I could use a dream cruise.." As opposed to a real one? Yes.

For reasons.

Back to the imagry at hand. "If you wouldn't mind as to lead us back to the cruise side of the island, we would be forever grateful. Lustful wanderers that we are...we wouldn't want to miss re-boarding of course."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Bob nods to Lucifer's response. "Of course. Missing the ship would be especially problematic with how hard it would be to arrange for an alternative ride. You'd miss the rest of your cruise. And while I've been told I have a handsome face, I'm sure you'd grow tired of seeing it after a week's worth of high tides and confined quarters."

Taking the point of lead, he steps ahead of the pair to indeed lead them towards the other side of the island.

A glance is given to the sky, "...And yes it is very pretty around here at low-tide... Hopefully we can get you back in time to get a good spot in line for the cookout."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister leaves his psychic reflection to go through the predicted motions in this man's mind.

In the real world, the telepath and the devil sitting on air remain still, except that the doctor of the pair narrows his eyes just a fraction....

And back in white-sand, Sinister levitates, rising above the basic level of awareness and out over the water. It's a form of isolation after all, a neat and tidy little bit of responsibility in a place of immense solitude, in hunt of the ship and the other... trappings around the place; viewing the skewed from a fresh eye.

Lucifer has posed:
It is an interesting thing. To be within the mind of someone and see how it shapes. As if they are replacing two people that this actually happened to. That likely is not the case, but it makes things make sense to Lucifer. Otherwise, they're just bending the mind of someone and that's...weird. It's also not science, but also science. Science of the MIND.

Or something.

"So then. You live here? On this island, alone, in the middle of...the Pacific Ocean? How does one survive that? The isolation alone would kill a social creature like myself..." He pauses, glances to the floating Nathaniel and then continues on. "Or do you, like, trade off with people on a rotation basis. Spend some time here, then sometime elsewhere..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As Sin goes through his recon while the reflection tides to the imaginings of 'Bob', it becomes apparent that is is indeed a small island. With the lagoon taking up most of the span, there is quite little actual land to plaster people upon. And right now a ship's worth of people are hanging out on the beach side opposite of them. Some are swimming, others are sun bathing, there's drinking, reading, and a few people eyeing the spread being set out on tables for an island feast for the visitors and seasonal staff that make such a rare visit possible.

Good job, Bob.

There is no cruise ship docked at the island. The waters are much too shallow for that. Instead the larger vessel is anchored in deeper waters while a smaller boat is ferrying passengers back and forth between island and ship.

With the next island being 470 kilometers away, indeed it would be hard on anyone who missed the departure of the ship to catch another ride out.

Hearing Lucifer's followed questions, Bob shakes his head. "Seasonal staff. I come in with the first cruise and I leave with the last. We have supplies to last for the season plus a little extra in case of weather issues. There's a few other members of staff who stay here too."

And honestly if the couple had gone the other way they probably would have encountered the stricter version of the island watch. "I'm either on a ship or on an island."

Sinister has posed:
It certainly does appear that 'fiji' has been relatively well constructed in the psyche of the individual locked into this mental 'safe haven' -- from above, Sinister gazes below.

This is his playground though, here he's the Lord of Misrule.

Inclement weather, a blow rolling in? The waters not so tranquil. A shark on the lagoon. A few individuals that are apparently Blue Meanies. The test is in the processing, in how thickly layered this lie happens to be over the actual truth. Or is it just a vaneer?

He pushes subtley against these mental walls, just gazing down at his Devil walking in the sands by a man that is beyond reality and locked inside. The water.... runs... red... not so very tranquil.

Lucifer has posed:
"That seems like a very interesting existence..." Lucifer offers, walking alongside ever still. The sand seems to stretch on and on...as if they're never going to get to the other side of the island. Nathaniel is doing some things on his own as well. Adding in bits and pieces here and there to disrupt the psyche.

Then there's Lucifer, who seems to linger on the idea of 'either on a ship or an island'. "I mean..surely...surely you make landfall somewhere. You've been other places. Like say..."

He pauses for affect.

"A rooftop in California armed with a sniper rifle to take someone out?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"Well- I guess California would have counted awhile back but I no longer have family there."

As the inclement weather starts to roll in, Bob's steps slow for a moment as he tries to process what's going on. It's funny. The weather report said nothing about-

Bob shakes his head and starts stepping a bit quicker. "I'm not liking this weather. We'll have to move quicker. Water's going to be coming in sooner than planned and there's a shelter cruise side to wait out the storm."

Bob blinks as the other half of the suggestion registers. "...what?"

Medved'.

Pesok.

Bob shakes his head. "We must move. Before it comes."

Sinister has posed:
Typhoons are deadly in the middle of the pacific ocean, south of the median line. They can erase land completely, as the polynesians well knew.

But this isn't supposed to be happening. More chaos ensues, little things, the blow of the wind, the accuracy of how it moves the ocean waves, these are all things Sin is now in control of, stirring that pot to give Lucifer that little bit of extra desperation that might be the key to an answer or two, or the fraying of the psyche-scape entirely.

Medved'? Pesok?

Hints of broken meaning get examined then, as Sin goes to the other side of the island to view it from the less peaceful perspective and to find out if there's a different lens to view this through.

<<Keep him talking my dear, the cage is being rattled.>>

Lucifer has posed:
"Hmm? Oh. Just wondering a few things here and there..." Lucifer looks up and plays the part of a worried passenger for a moment. "Oh, no, I don't like this at all. The wind is kicking up and clouds are rolling in..."

Keep him talking. Yes.

"I suppose wind would play a role in the bullet not reaching the target. One wrong gust and you'll hit an innocent bystander. Or even worse. Someone who was friends with the target you had. Someone else who would have been devestated to lose the one you were meant to kill...but then you killed the other. I suppose in the end it doesn't matter...if there were always two targets on the docket."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The view of the waves building up causes for Bob's eyes to widen. This isn't natural. He shakes his head to Lucifer's questions. "ENOUGH TALK."

Smert'.

Derevo."If you value your life. RUN!" With the directive given, Bob grabs for the the stand in version of the cruise guest that staff would more likely to miss, grasping the hand as he tugs the figure to run with him towards the stated shelter location. Surely the other one will get the hint if his companion's hightailing it to shelter right?

tkan.

As lightning strikes there's a flash of grayscale as the image of the island seems more a photo. A red light breaks across giving more the after image of the inside of a metallic environment viewed from a seated position.

When the lightning finishes, the stormy island returns.

Sinister has posed:
That image at least runs smooth and normal, like it's supposed to. Yes, a psychological reflection of an expectation of Essex superimposed here does value life and existence. Of course it does, it's expected to -- the other side is viewed with an invisible and impossible wind stirring Sinister's hair, his posture rigid as he gazes down at the room, flashed through the breaking wall.

The haven isn't meant to collapse from the inside, the construction is meant to remains sound and keep the programming structured. The psyche receptive and safe -- oh he knows this, has seen it a thousand times. Has done it more than once.

A click of the fingers as he slowly brings his hand up, freezes the next bolt of lighting in illumination status, that the room and the metal and the seating shows simultaneous to the island scape and its constructs, within this psyche, in this subconscious mind.

"Better buckle up buttercup, you're about to go to hell."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer gets the hint, but then things all go wonky. Lightning flashes, illuminating the behind-the-scenes of all this - if even for a glimpse. So he continues to stroll. Not running. Though he could sprout wings and fly if he wanted. He does, somehow, manage to keep up to about one and a half paces behind the runners. Well. The runneR...and the not-so-physical companion.

Then he smirks.

"Hey now... that's my line..." He says this while glancing up and towards the real Nathaniel, but only a shit-eating grin is passed to the other man. "Peel back the layers. Perhaps all at once. He needs to face it head on, I think."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the flash of lightning strikes again, the island becomes picturesque once more. Projected upon a screen across the red lit room. The visual wobbles for a moment before recoiling back to a more stable visage. The light is the only semblance of warmth in the scene as it blinks on and off, reflecting off the metallic walls and furniture. The brunt of the line shining into the eyes of the unlucky son of a bitch clamped into the solid metal chair bolted in front of the light source and screen.

Bob tenses in the chair, straining against the binds as the images on the screen become a blur of rapidly flashing images. Attempts to close the eyes are futile as devices keep the lids open, His only reward for the action an automated whish of eye solution to help with the viewing process.

Sinister has posed:
Indeed, sometimes the truth is the absolute worst thing to face in the best of moments. The memory is all that needs to be exploited and exposed in the fragment of the moment.

Looking down at the scene, both arms are raised toward the heavens, fingers curled, the red energy that he's known for crackling between the fingers in arcs, levitating in the caverns of a broken mind and staring down at the tabeau.

The mindscape cracks, flaming fissures emerging in various points in the metallic room as the psyche is assaulted with a very powerful directive to...

            <<REMEMBER>>

Images, textures, layers of denial, moments of psychological escapism, PTSD triggers, they're all ripped one by one back from the poor schmuck in the tank. THis is what you've done. This is what you were made to be.

And of course, in the midst of this, his empathy barometer is ticking up the millibars of emotional mercury, to guage where to push this fellow next; is there horror? Satisfaction? Denial? What about a smattering of disgust, or a soupcent of confusion and malicious shadenfreude?

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer watches it all. The Chaos Storm that is coming, raining down upon the man in the tank in droplets of denial and accountability. Lucifer just stands there - but as if to make things worse - he does something he never really gets to do.

Between flashes of the reality and the dream, amidst the chaos that pours down, there are times if Bob looks around that Lucifer is as he has been. But sometimes he is the devil. Charred flesh and twisted horns, with eyes of a sickly yellow. Sometimes he's just standing there. Other times he's making ghoulish faces. Or sticking out his tongue. Or his head is...upside down?

Then he's normal again. As if nothing happened. As if he is a piece of normal in the calamity.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
While the room sharpens in it's on and off illuminated display, there's not much in furnishings beyond the chair lights and screen. Nor do there appear to be windows. At least to whatever is outside. High up upon one wall there is the glimpse of a viewing area, betraying the silhouette of someone monitoring.

Remember.

No. He's finally free- Don't ma-

The strobe light devil appearing in the side of his vision are not helping much in the avoidance as he ends up focusing more upon the screen. It's not much of an improvement to the situation. For while the island occasionally pops up to disperse some of the harshness. There's a bevy of other images smooshed in the rapid display.

Please...

Remember.

Just...Want it to end.

Remember.

A mix of eye drops and tears trickles down the side of his nose.

Remember.

Bob's head convulses but doesn't move far from where it was, restraints are not forgiving enough for that.

...f-f-

The images on the screen start to slow. Granting more of a glimpse of the other images appearing on screen as random words being played start to become audible.

Does anyone here speak russian?

Sinister has posed:
That tingle does linger, the telling tale of consciousness in the subconscious realm, that smack of awakening awareness -- it instructs, informs and transforms the intentions of the Mastermind hovering in the ether inside this poor fool's psyche.

            <<STOP.>>

This relates not to the rememberance as intention can be understood subliminally. The directive is to the activity. A freeze in the words, action-replay and moebius loop of sublimal programming and key word imbedding that is going on. Hydra /did/ learn from the absolute best and behaviour and opperant conditioning, after all.

He floats down, the cracks in the universe of mind and their hellfire glow, remaining.... until he fills the screen before eyes that can't close. A look to Lucifer and his strobe devilling and slowly back to 'bob' and he clicks his fingers.

The screen vanishes. It's replaced by the flicker of fire on the wall, the promise of Hell that they said was there. Just out of sight, NOT out of mind.

"You'll be pleased to know, you were a perfect candidate for their little brain train. You, dear fellow, are one of the deeply susceptible to hypnosis. I? Am quite real. You're going to remember that. And so is the devil..." nodding to Lucifer, he looks the man in eyes that cannot shut. "...And he is quite real. THis is what you would call... Appostition. Suppostition is the belief in something that is phantom and unreal. Appostition is the reality of a fact, whether myth or not and the surety that it doesn't matter if you believe in it or not, it's not going to stop being quite real. There is a hell. There is a Devil... and he has you. There is a path you can take where you can find your way out, like unto Dante's inferno. But you? You're going to burn if you don't find your way to redeeming yourself. Now, get up out of the chair. You can, because I tell you that you >>>CAN<<<. Face your crossroads."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer just. Stands there. Because he is now just that. A token of a promise of what there is beyond. Well, should redemption be forsaken anyway. Sinister is really playing Devil's Advocate quite nicely. The Devil approves.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the command is brought out the images come to a halt, landing on a very large 3 on the screen before it burns away to the promise of enternal punishment.

As the visual assault mostly pauses, there's a hitch of breath coming from the entrapped figure.

Sinister's approach cause brows raise as he's more or less having to look to the figure approaching regardless. This is unf-

...

No.

He seems familiar-

Why?

The puzzling pertaining the man's entrance pauses pending the processing of the predicament postulated now. Psionic persistence passes the pair pretty quickly down the fast track to results when put next to the process from before. Which is evidenced by the b-

Oh right. He can't blink.

The DUMB LOOK Bob gives the pair.

They're real?

But how is he supposed to get up when he's locked in the ch-

A glance down notes the lack of braces now.

That he was able to look in the first place denotes the lack of the device that had been watering his eyes just earlier. Head turning with his newfound freedom he quickly looks up to the window. Finding the lack of figure up there. "We got to get out of here."

Sinister has posed:
"Well, that would be an apt thing to do, my boy, if you knew the way...." Sinister points to Lucifer, smiles with his head lowering and eyes befitting his name as they ignite just a flash. "Oh, you didn't mean that way did you? Well, you're going to remain calm when that happens and you're not going to panic. That would involve you drowning and I don't think you'd be all that keen on that..."

Clicking his fingers, the window is gone, they're on the beach again, but the cracks in the world remain. THe reminder. It's probably the case that they're going to be there no matter what happens, whenever 'bob' closes his eyes to try and sleep -- that reminder, or promise, depending on your perspective.

"You're also going to be quite cooperative. I'm sure you want to be free of all that's happened to you. But that comes with a price. Your crossroads. Do you understand? The only way you get out with your self intact, is by making the path to redemption and a pact with the DEvil and his Sin."

There is a suitable pause here for the devil to do his own due, before the simple command that will end all of this for now.

"Wake up."

You know. In a tank. With a tube in your mouth. Floating in liquid. Connected to tubes. And that's probably why there was a helpful hitch-hiker's guide to the galaxy moment beforehand: REALLY don't panic.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer just grins, as the Devil would, and then shifts to sit cross-legged in the air once more. A wave of his hand and a shimmering spiral of papyrus appears, jotted with little words - the fine print you see. And on the bottom? An 'X' and a line. A quill appears - somehow - in mid-air.

"Just sign on the dotted line and redemption you will find..." Because quirky not-so-rhyming is very much a Luci thing to do. The quill and parchment floating closer...

And then there's all the other things Sin'll do.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Ah yes. Such sound advice. 'Remain calm.' It goes up there with such effective instructions as 'Do not think of pink elephants'.

...

So how did you do? Did you think of pink elephants? Well, now you probably have an inkling for how well the words uttered by Sinister fared.

So as the man wakes...

He floats. No longer subjected to the slideshow from hell and the world's worst spoken album ever.

Eyes slowly open, taking note of the attire he's been put into and what he's attached to.

Blink.


Blink.

Bob's head tilts as he looks to the floating devil holding the paper product outside of Bob's wet environment.

Another lab.

Mention of the devil.

How does he know they're not working with them?

Sinister has posed:
He doesn't. But on the other hand, one suspects Hydra doesn't usually bring their dead operatives back to life again and provide regenerative baths. Though, one never knows with these multinational megacorporations of evil. There's probably a good dental plan, death benefits (or at least a free cremation) vision care and pharmaceutical packages to die for. In some cases, these various benefits combine to dental pharma /with/ death benefits. You know how it is....

"Well. He hasn't inhaled a lung full of nutrient suspension, that's a bonus..." Sin glance askance, notes the grin, gives his own wry expression and hits 'drain' on the console.

A short while later, a towel and robe is tossed into the now-opening tube, final readings taken.

"All your senses are going to be a little haywire for a while. You haven't really used them in a good couple of months. You may want to think about your get out of jail clauses though and consider that you -could- be dead. You aren't. Which says volumes."

Lucifer has posed:
"To put it less succinctly. You failed your mission, got caught, tried to chew a cyanide pill but were stopped just at the brink of death. Or maybe you had died. Either way, you're alive again. I don't think anyone knows you were dead... they do know you failed your mission. And before you try to bolt out of here in just a robe and still soaked. There is no way out that you can open. So you'll just have to trust us. Give us what we want. And you'll be a free man."

Lucifer says this speech, and then grins as he motions to the ever-still-floating parchment and quill. "It's all in the fine print. I promise. And I cannot lie."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Well.

Not usually.

But they've done a lot of questionable shit.

The general assurance that he COULD be dead is not really much comfort. If anything there seems to be a bit of frustration with that fact. To anyone left that matters, he already is. There's nothing to go back to.

His back leans against the part of the tube still present. Hands lift up with the intent of catching the tossed items, managing to catch the towel but the robe lands into the wet surface of the floor space he stands in. Looking to the sopping wet robe. Bob sighs and wraps the towel around instead.

As Lucifer sums up what led to his being here he tries to recall the event. Frowning as all he gets the memory of numbers and an image.

One.
Two.
Three.
Red Cross.
His finger twitches with each number, finger relaxing at the sign of the cross.

"...what's that?" He asks, looking at the parchment.

Give the guy a moment. He's still regaining his senses.

Sinister has posed:
"In simplicity: An agreement contract..." -- little brushes of thought keep a steady monitor on this until-recently living ornament in the lab space. Sinister looks down and up the figure. "That's his schtick. I don't need them usually -- but that doesn't stop people attempting to wheedle out of deals struck. It just never works out to plan. His Highness however," looking to the Devil "...does like the irony of it all. It never works out for those that welch on him, either, it's just poetic to be able to point at the lettering and note that it wasn't as if they weren't warned."

There's absolutey zero attempt to provide a fresh robe.

"I've repaired your brain quite a bit, by the by. They'd sliced and diced along with programming you to salivate on command and go to your special place..." it does sound mildly lascivious as he says that and probably intentionally. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire... /essentially/ we'd rather like you to do a few things for us, you see. It behooves me to analyze your codex, to work out intent, programming and how to undo it."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer really is now just here for the wheeling and dealing...and that's all he wrote for this portion. Everything else is between Sinister and Bob. He doesn't like the name 'Bob'. "So fucking generic..." He mutters that last bit aloud but to himself. "Why can't he have a name like... Frederick...or....Stephen..."

The contract hangs, and will remain hanging until signed. Or eventually it may dissipate. Lucifer, however, is on the borderline of bored now. Because all the bells and whistles and things to keep him entertained and distracted have stopped.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"Codex?"

One. Twitch.

Hearing Lucifer's complaint aboutthe name, Bob glances up. "Then change it. I'm not partial to it either."

Besides it's probably not what he originally had. Part of him thinks it may have started with a W...or maybe a P.

Two. Twitch. Twitch.

The prospect of undoing programming gets fixated upon. "...You can help with that?"

Three. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.

Red Cross come, task is done.

Sinister has posed:
Sometimes brevity is the soul of wit.

"Yes." And that's all we'll say about that.

The doctor stares at the devil for a moment, then sighs softly and gestures toward poor Bob. "Your turn. I know you're itching... bring it out of him."

The robe violently wrings itself of water then is flung with invisible hands to a laundry disposal. The splat is audibe and poltergeistish.

Lucifer has posed:
"What am I bringing out of him exactly? The person that's trying to hide behind all the random Russian words that make no sense? The one who was on top of the roof ready to shoot someone he's never met just because he was told to do so?" Lucifer glances over to the man then. "Wade? No no... that's Deadpool. Parker? Mmn, no. Spiderman's got that one. Peter. Paul. Disciples... fuck that..." He just stares then.

"You ought remember you know. Dig around a little deeper and it's not Bob, it's... and it wasn't a cold snowy day in Moscow. It was sunny. Warm. The shadows falling just so. The wind blowing in just the right direction. Set up. Aim. Wait for it. Pause. Breathe. Fire. Only...well...your target is still alive and now you're here. Broken. In pieces. Put them together, because you CAN."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Bob stares at Lucifer as he tells him he should remember. The names brought up don't jostle any memories but the pattern of W and P names seems to be the general plan.

The Ps seem closer. Just not- the ones said.

"P..."

"Fff..."

"Ph-"

Sinister has posed:
"Phineas it isn't. Phillip it might be," Sinister murmurs this, turning his focus now back to the readings that were taking their numbers and cataloguing them all the time that the individual was in that tank, floating. Floating....

Data is interpreted. What it means, in an overall pattern, is probably one of the things it's taken a lifetime and more to guage just by looking at the values. Sin clucks his tongue.

"It does make one question a measure of what the soul actually is, when such things as this can be done to a person and opperant conditioning can be this deeply imbedded. They've perfected this art over generations though. Except that they are -not- me. They don't have my talent or my skill at their disposal, but that's hardly a surprise. They coudn't pay me enough or give me enough sparkly shiny thngs, for them to be worth my time or effort. They frankly don't have anything that I want."

He looks over at the nameless one. "Remember your thirteenth birthday, Bob. Now. Let that sink in, unravel and overlay... <<now>>. And then we'll see where we go from there."

Lucifer has posed:
"Oh. That's a good name. Phillip." Lucifer says this and then sighs a bit dejectedly again. Once more this is edging towards boring for him. Guessing games and trying to pull information out of someone. He's just not into all of this. And this is a CLEAN room so he can't even have a drink or a smoke while waiting for something exciting to happen. "Anyway. I'm about to just leave you to it and go cause some mayhem downstairs or something. You never told me interrogations like this are super boring."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Bob's brow lifts as Sinister lists off a name, the expression triggering again as Lucifer mentions it once more.

Now THAT one...feels right.

"...Phillip."

Not much time is spent lingering on this question as a prompt ends up shifting the thought process.

The room is incredibly small with the patio door that takes up most of one wall opened to grant access to the small patio in the tiny fenced in portion of yard. There's about a square foot of grass peeking out as a reminder of what a real yard could look like but the Folding chair and charcoal grill easily takes up the lions share of real estate. There appears to be some smoke coming from the grill. The walls of the room the thirteen year old is situated in is very bare with a small arm chair and recliner situated across from a box tv situated on a worn chest covered in stickers. If one was expecting for an eventful song proclaiming the name that was being sought for. They're not in luck. Save for the tv tuned into the news, it is incredibly quiet in the area.

Although, there is the sound of something being cut up on a cutting board over in the kitchenette.

"Phillip, check the coals."

Sinister has posed:
With a look to Lucifer, Sinister just waits for the brain to do what the brain is want to do:

See these algorithyms, they tell him that the subliminal isn't bone deep. That there's sub-conscious activity that means that there's a mind beneath the mind. That was all the beach and safeplace was about, partly to protect the core individual, even if his body was doing the bidding of Hydra.

And here we have it, projected on the walls of the lab by the dint of telepathic illusion and a sublime gesture of the hand from Sinister.

"It is boring. But then the world tends to not be a breakneck speed most of the time. Sometimes, my darling, you are a surpreme paradox, of infinite patience to achieve the end goals, and amazing impatience when you aren't sufficiently engaged in it. I think in modern day psychology they would call you ADHD."

He grins at the devil, then plays a hand to the scene. "This is a core memory. If you want to imbed and redirect and compel, /now/ is the time to do so."

Lucifer has posed:
"How about you redirect and compel him with a lobotamy?" Lucifer quips before shifting to walk right into the memory feed that they're being treated to. Finding himself outside, in the little square foot lawn they have for themselves. He's changed his outfit to be more right for the setting, old school military dregs, basic pants and tee shirt for when the men are doing outside work.

He waits, next to the grill, and does a little handwave to set the flames to shoot up a little from the top of the grill just as Phillip perhaps makes his way out. With the flying flames, he lights up a cigarette that he somehow managed to compel into his hand. Yes. This is exciting. Sort of. At least until he's face to face with the younger version of Tank-now-Towel Boy.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The thirteen year old equivalent of towel b-*err* MAN. Towel man.

...This is not the hill to take a stand on.

FINE. Towel Boy.

...

For now.

Either way with the direction to check upon the coals, the teen gets up from the love seat to take the few steps it takes to reach the door. The residence is exceedingly tiny.

As Phillip looks to the grill to find flames shooting out, eyes widenas he scoots over, grabbing one of the side bars to roll the grill a bit further into the yard. Once he's sure he's gotten the grill relocated to a seemingly stable patch of ground, he releases the handle to step back. Taking just that moment to look to what he can glimpse of the coals. Seeing the ashy color on the less bright portions he turns his head in. "Almost ready!"

With the perceived emergency out of the way, he turns his head to look to Lucifer.

...

There's a glance to the short fence behind the devil.

...

"...You could have used the front door." He finally determines before stepping back to look inside. "I think your friend is here."

"SHOW HIM THE BEER AND GET SCARCE!"

Sinister has posed:
"Aaah, the joys of great parenting." Sinister murmurs to himself, watching the scene from the sidelines. Here, he folds his arms, glances down at himself and with a shiver shrug of his shoulders, metamorphoses his attire to his outfit du jour when being his villainous self, complete with cloak with a life of its own. He goes to lean against the wall of the house, watching Lucifer with a crooked smile lingering for a moment, then looks to the boy.

"So he was primed for disassociative behaviour /and/ for a need to belong someplace and feel useful. Prime candidate. I think I might actually experiment on this one, make him useful for myself. For us. For our perspective on things -- I believe I have... just the genome to tweak to make that work."

Oh dear.

"The thing will be, what do you suppose I ought to add to the mix? Superspeed? Camouflage? Psionic suceptibility? Maybe a rather horrible defense mechanism might work. You have to craft the tool for the job after all."

A sniff. "Lobotomies are too easy. Reshaping and retuning is more of a challenge. Besides which, I want to know the extent of this particular... thread that we've unravelled. I want to know how many heads this hydra has in its little cluster, that has the Dragon on its task force. We need to poke toward that end."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer smirks a little as Phillip moves the grill just as the fire dies down again and no harm is done. Though he does tilt his head when the boy yells to someone that their friend is here. This causes the Devil to tilt his head, and then he takes a long drag off that cigarette. "Don't worry, kid. I don't need a beer. Just wanna talk to an adult real quick..." He says this and then watches the house a moment.

"You're right. I coulda used the front door. But I didn't. Now why don't you make like what ya were told and get." Hmmn. That doesn't fit right in the mouth...but there they are.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Phillip nods as Lucifer states he doesn't want a beer. But considering what he was told to do, he tilts his head towards the kitchen area where another figure stands. "...Third shelf from the top and on the door of the fridge if you change your mind." Phillip relays. Mission somewhat handled, he makes his way inside, ducking into a side room. The brief glimpse of a bunk bed and desk can be seen before the door closes.

"Reynolds. You're early." The voice from the kitchen area calls. Similar looking to the present day Phillip, Only shorter hair and with similar attire to what Luci wears.

Sinister has posed:
This causes a tip of the head from Sinister, regarding the memory and then the surroundings with a look of suspicion. The door of the bedroom with its bunk is regarded with a narrowing of eyes. "Thin walls, thin doors...." potentially. But this is liable to end up being wishy washy and vague soon, as memory pulls from what is ... well... remembered. Confabulation tends to be bizarre when witnessed 'on demand' so to speak.

"<<Phillip. Connect the dots for us. Is your father involved in what you were trained to do? When did you get into the special ops? Show us.>>

Compulsion being what it is, he straightens up and ambles to Lucifer's side, so that several little points of contact are felt flank to flank as he stands.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer glances over to Nathaniel as the man steps to his side and then grins. "This is about to get interesting..."

Define interesting...

Oh god, oh god, we're all gonna die?

Something like that.

He then marches from Nathaniel's side right into the house. "I ain't Reynolds and I'm not here for you. And since this is just a memory, it won't really matter for shit what I do. Don't get in my way." He strides past whoever was talking in the house and right into the room that Phillip had ran into.

"Right. If you aren't going to show us properly, then you either do what that little voice in your head is telling you to do, or I will snatch you out of this room by your ear, march you right up to the first official looking building actually on the base and waterboard you until you give up the memory or drown within it..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
With Phillip being essentially kicked out of the scene of his recollection, the concern Sinister poses is a valid one. But with the general prompt, there's a general shift in the lighting. But as Lucifer bypasses the dismissive parental figure to barge into the room, the teen's confused face becomes his reward. This doesn't feel right. With the combination of gentle nudging and impatient demand being thrust upon him. The light of the room wavers between dimming and brightening until the end up instead back in the metalic room.

The island's picture.

Green grass, Tombstones, and a flag draped coffin.

The number one.

Click.

Boxes.

Island.

Fry Scholarship.

The number two.

Carnival games. Prizes.

Island.

Dorm Room.

Shoot out the star.

The number three.

The lower levels of a ship.

Desert.

Explosion.

Island.

Footage of California fires.

The number two.

The Island.

An old framed picture of a civil war group with a familiar face.

Shoot the star out, win a prize!

The Island



Bleeding out.

Drawings on walls.

On table.

The Island.

Chair.

No oneleft.

Shoot out the star!

One.

A photo of Nick at a restaurant with Betsy.

Shoot out the star!

Two.

A photo of Wade walking alongside Nick.

Screaming

Three.

A photo of Hyde talking to Nick at some upscale looking residence.

The Island.

Red Cross

Bite Down.

Peace.

Sinister has posed:
Like a flicker show, a zootrope of memories that are all disjointed until you spin them around so fast that they form a consecutive image -- such is taken in in the two quick blinks from Sinister.

Well, that was a /varied/ approach for certain. Coersion and programming coming about in a confusing overlay. "Helter skelter..." he hums the beatles a moment, then flicks hands at the images that are assaulting them one by one, like he's flinging cards a'la gambit. Little flickers of red dart out, like angry wasps with each flick, pinning the dischordancy into clusters and whirrly buzzing them about to make a cohesive synapse.

This was a game. Make it the shooting game at the carnival. Trigger.

The army life, from civillian down to first action.

The targets and their cohesive unit.

"Oh. Isolate him. So that eventually, all there is..." he stares from nick to Phillip "...is you. Them."

Lucifer has posed:
Well. Grab them by the ear and talk sense into them didn't work -quite- like Lucifer expected it to...but it seems to have yielded some results. Now it's just piecing the puzzle together a little bit more. So he's back to doing nothing, and shifts to sit-float in the air with his legs crossed. At least they have a name, and what seems to be varying images of Nick which doesn't settle well with the pseudo-real-Uncle person that Lucifer is.

"Fun times."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
One.
Twitch.
Two. Twitch. Twitch.
Three. Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.
Island.
Red Cross
As Sinister goes through sorting the pictures to piles. The overlapping stories become a bit more clearer as the screen ends up splitting to multiple screens.

The Island. Mostly a still image save for a few glimpses of a cave disappearing with the high tide. The peaceful image persists, ever present to provide comfort while glimpsing the other screens.

Off to another, it tells a simple tale. Split custody. Father killed in action. A brief glimpse of the mother before the acceptance letter and dorm come to view. A glimpse of basic. A glimpse of the desert. The Explosion in the desert. So much blood. There's a glimpse of his own obituary soon followed by the fire. That footage fizzles out to black.

The last screen is the most chaotic. The sound of screaming. More blood. The table. The chair and a show within a show. With the damn star the center of attention.

One.
Bang!
Two. Bang!Bang!
Three. Bang!Bang!Bang!
Red Cross and done.

But it's not quite done. Images of a sterile environment with less than sterile etchings upon the wall. Weird drawings upon doors, each varied. As one is dragged down a hall.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's glance goes to Lucifer, sitting in the air as they're taken through the actual sequence of events -- what is real and what is not, still could be in debate, given brainwashing is a very thorough thing sometimes. But it makes more sense than it did in a grab bag of mixed memorabilia.

The red eye drift though, one scene to the next. A man's life is fascinating, but in this instance... trivial to the purpose, even if it is not trivial to the man himself. "Everything is relative..." Sin murmurs to himself. The 'red cross' moment is frozen in mind, a quick flick of the wrist bringing up scenes already jumbled through, a separate screen to show the film set. The ambulance crew. Do not shoot to kill, chaos and "...snatch and grab..." murmured again.

And then to the hallway, allowed to play forward again. Each door is stared at, a questioning raise of eyebrow sent to Lucifer then to... "...they have an Arc."

Pause.

"Mine is larger. Less people in it, too. At least... full organisms."

Lucifer has posed:
"An Arc? What kind? Like Noah? Oh but you don't have a... well... do you have a ship as big as the ark?" Lucifer questions aside and then shakes his head. "Arc of the Covenant? That'd be interesting... as only one of those exist and I highly doubt you have it..." See? Lucifer can be funny even when he's annoyed. Though the last bit of imagry, where there's weird carvings on the doors, and all of them varied as something if being dragged down the hall.

That has Lucifer getting back to his feet and moving forward.

"How odd. Magic traps. Different sorts too. Like this one..." He points to the first door on the left of the memory. "That's to keep something in that's highly volatile. Like...uhm....a mutant with a penache for exploding. And this one?" He then goes to the second door on the right. "This holds things in that would otherwise possibly be able to teleport out." He looks back to Phillip then. "Were you the dragging or the dragged? Hmm?"

Then he looks back to Nathaniel. "Also, I'm not saying holy shit these are mutants. Just trying to put it into perspective. It could very well be an alien or metahuman or...whatever."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the thoughts get organized, Phillip looks blankly to a patch of wall in the memory that isn't playing anything. Eyes closing shut as the room with the chair fades. There is nothingness for a few moments as Lucifer poses his question. He frowns. Some glimpses have him walking. Other times he was being advanced forward forcefully. But each time he was drug, it was to one of two doors. One of which containing the chair.

More blood. Floor blood. Tube blood. Bag blood. Blue blood. Gold Blood.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister hmmms. "Well, mine involves two by two, except that it's strictly parts of a lot -- not all of them are mutants I'll note, but a great many are. The occasional meta and alien part gets in there if it was worthwhile enough. Alien autopsies are -interesting- to say the least..." He looks to the blank spot of wall, calmly and smiling showing a brief reminder of the crater with row upon row upon row of samples, a great library of DNA.

Then it's gone and he's unfolding arms from behind his back to stroke at his goatee a few times, eyes narrowed. The red eyes shift from one thing to another. "I think I have enough now, a frame of reference is all that is honestly needed..."

He gestures to their hydra host, a thing that lifts the poor human's mind up with them as he willfully changes the mindscape, taking them out of a single brain and up into the actual astral plane. A ghost of the 'prison arc' shows now, their containment centre.

And through the lights of the astral, each mote a person, a thought, a mind thinking to the great extra dimensional space where thought is King... he uses the ghost images as a frame of reference, to hone in, a myriad of comparisons per second, flickering past like a crazy cartoon...

Until minds are found that have images that match the one pulled from Philip. Be they prison guards, prisoners, techs, operatives or otherwise. Hydra has many heads to look at. Doctor Essex does too, but his minds are a good deal more dangerous at times. Particularly, if he's concentrating on being in just the one of them for now...

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer, having given a bit more insight, watches everything for another moment or so. All of it coming together after context is given and taken into consideration. Once again he's at the mercy of understanding what's coming about. And he does to a point, but then there's the things he doesn't understand. As long as what's given in the long run makes sense and Nathaniel has a new toy. That's what counts.

He'll go back to air-sitting.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As Phillip finds himself more outside of the image, there a different type of panic arising. There's a fizzling after effect as the ghostly image becomes a bit more shimmering. It takes time but eventually things start to fill more into place as more adjacent thoughts start to fill in the pieces that Phillip's didn't. It becomes a bit grander, eventually leading to more of a 3D modeling of the interior of a vessel. The room with the chair and the other door appear to be on the same level as the other ones Phillip had recalled, but the formation of another level with seals become present in the rendering. In some of the rooms there are glimpses of others of a similar build to Philip. Not clones, just- likely of the same upbringing. Nothing notably distinct about them but...Some seem familiar.

About a level above that are more administrative and functional rooms. A kitchen. Non marked up doors with a couple of them revealing to be quarters, others, common offices, a file room...Well. One gets an idea to the general layout of what is indeed a vessel of sorts.

But it's not until there's a glimpse of a top side receiving a delivery of sorts - that it becomes apparent that the ship in question is less an ark and more a sub.

Sinister has posed:
"Calm," -- the instruction comes to Phillip, whose brain is so much swiss cheese that the helpful add-ons he's getting from other minds across the northern hemisphere are definitely important. He looks to the hovering Devil, then to the images again, his gaze going just unfocused enough to find a VIN number or a designation. The code name for this operative vessel.

It'll move around of course, that's what those things are supposed to do, but if there is a name, if there is a designation, that can be found. It will light up in other conscious minds like a lightbulb in the night.

"Do you have enough of an image and an understanding of this to do a locator spell, Lucifer?" It's asked calmly.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer lifts a brow while he glances up and around a moment. "Hmm? Oh. Probably." He says with a lazy tone and then almost begins to shift from his air-seat. "Might take me a moment to gather all that I need to make it...and it might take a little of the cleanliness out of your lab if I perform it in here. Just so you know." He offers this up and then looks between Nathaniel and Phillip once more.

"Just so I'm clear...am I trying to locate the vehicle?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
There can be so much power in one word. The blurriness of the image before them blurs a bit more before it reverses, sharpening. The added details are indeed helping but there are some that are most definitely not part of Phillip's overview. Save for the means for going up for transport, it becomes apparent that his understanding is confined to the floor they got to traipse about earlier.

While it's not painted all over. There's enough of a nudge. A glimpse of bleary writing with a key term.

Welcome to Hades.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister actually does something almost human here. With the calm descended and the helpful clarify that's imposed, he drifts close enough to Phillip to give the man a pat on the back. Good man. Good man.

"Not immediately, my love. It is Hades... we just need to know... that we can..." Sinister exhales then, letting the strength of concentration that pulled them all into the astral plane, filter back to normality. The lab itself becomes clearer, more distinct until /it/ is their reality once again, without the overlay of thought and mind.

Blinking a few times, he glances at the two, back and forth. Then, there's a gesture to a covered tray. "It's not complex, but your stomach hasn't had anything in a while Phillip. Some food. We aren't going to kill you after having healed you, so fear not any poison." He informs, moving across to Lucifer afterwards. "We know the name of the cell operation that has been targetting Nick now. We know it's based out of a submarine. We know the designation of said submarine. This is all things we did not know before. What we do with that, well... that's a little up to you. I believe Nick might... want to know about it. But we can find it. We can infiltrate it. We can potentially sink it. Or we can use it. Your call."

Lucifer has posed:
"I'd just as well sink it. Or clear it out and return it to the owners." Lucifer grins at that last bit. "Might send a message, a warning...or leave people wondering how the hell it was found." There's a shrug then. An operation using a submarine that might either be non-commissioned or otherwise classified as lost. What the hell would he do with a submarine anyway? Go underwater without getting wet? He has other means to do that without the need of a whole vessel.

"I do agree with telling Nick. Perhaps both Nick and Wade. I don't even know if Wade knows he was a potential target. It's likely he does, given who he hangs around with... and how close they are." Plus the fact that it seems Wade is a bit more connected to Nick than first thought. Which is interesting and certainly not going to be used as leverage. They're friends. Friends deserve truths. Especially if the truth was uncovered without knowledge of hidden facts.

Or something.

"So perhaps feeding Phillip and giving him a place to rest is in order..." He glances to the man, unashamed to say these things out loud. "But how do we know he won't try to bolt the moment we left him out of this lab."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Phillip looks to the covered tray and then back over to Sinister. While by itself the assurances that the food is not poisoned wouldn't really ring true to him. The calming approach from earlier is helping with the situation. Also- he already tried killing himself once with Poison. Is it REALLY that different?

Lucifer's question is pretty spot on. What does make them know he won't bolt?

"Well. I'm in a towel and shorts. And I don't know where the door is. Besides, where would I go?"

Sinister has posed:
"Back to the base that locked you up in a cell until you get told to go elsewhere. I know this is going to take a while, but having your own mind again is going to be an adventure for you," Sinister opines. "So yes, you are a prisoner, but your prison is without walls. If you leave, I'd be able to find you. No matter where you go. Or when, for that matter... but that's beside the point." He shrugs, smiles again in a calm and reassuring (hah!) manner.

"I don't much want you to wander straight back there at the moment. So. Please don't. You'd be less than useful afterwards."

He looks back to Lucifer.

"It depends on if you want to glean information or whether you want to lay wrack and ruin. Both are feasable. But if the latter, I want the former first. Hydra is pernicious and tends to be multifaceted. I just want /us/... this area... to be /more/ trouble than it's worth. But they're just as likely to also be idiots. So." He sighs, gestures to the door. "Shall we? I'll send more food in about two hours for you, Phillip. Don't touch anything that says 'don't touch me'." Which is nothing in here. At all. So. Maybe that was a joke, left by a parting black humour.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer raises a brow and then gives a grin before saying two words. But in these two words will likely be the answer to Nathaniel's question. "I'm bored."

If Nathaniel wants go gather intel first that's fine. Lucifer can wait. Patiently. Sort of. He might go ahead and try to find the submarine while Nathaniel is gathering intel. At some point, Nathaniel will tell him it's time. At that point, the Devil will be unleashed.

And it will be glorious.

He does pause upon departure and looks over to Phillip. "I'll have clothes brought in for you." Just that. No questions about style wants or fashion needs. Nope. He'll get clothed and he'll be happy with that. Then the Devil follows his scientist out of the lab.