Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)- Joined
- Sep 12, 2009
- Location
- Too far south
((I hate intros XD))
It’s easy to find targets in the southern end of England, even those that passed the doctor’s standards. It was those that were alone and desperate that Galahad Palmer relied on for his research, the poor souls that didn’t fit in any form of organized groups in the once densely populated city. Living without support it was only a matter of time before these men and women died, either from the terrible disease that he was working to prevent, or any number of other causes that it was almost maddening to consider. Certain death on the streets, or a chance at an almost eternal life by his experiments, one of the few who might be able to survive the dying age, for him it seemed an easy decision.
His new subject was going to be young this time, he decided. Youthful bodies were better able to adapt to pain, mentally and physically, and that is what he needed in the first successful tests. For days now he tracked several young women that moved through the sparsely populated city, watching their every movement carefully. “The blonde has suffered three nosebleeds within two days.” Galahad murmured, spotting the growing crimson stain against the crisp white mask, and scribbled the observation down in his journal. It could very well be nothing, as the temperature drops and the air becomes more dry nosebleeds frequent many people, especially the young. It simply was not a risk that he was going to take, and put the lives of everyone in the operation in terrible danger. There was still too much to be done. “That makes eight unusable.” He commented, giving his assistant a sideways glance as he pulled the thick goggles from his head to scrub at them absently with a dry handkerchief. It was very rare that their selection pool was narrowed down so quickly, proof of just how quickly the disease was eating away at the population. “We have two left.” He gestured absently down at the streets below, before sliding the binoculars to the other man.
The first a rather short girl, auburn hair from what he saw, sixteen perhaps by the way her body was built, though he could not tell much beyond that with the protective gear those who walked the streets wore. Old fashions were abandoned for rough, thick one piece suits that covered a rubbery undersuit, which prevented bodily fluids from touching the skin. Thick gloves and boots were made of a similar, if thicker material to avoid puncture. Over their heads most wore a form of hood or cap, a white mask to cover the nose and mouth, and heavy goggles to hide the eyes. It stole away almost all recognizable features short of build and the short tuffs of hair that stole their way from under the lip of the hood. The second was a taller brunette, glossy curls often tumbling out from under her cap. Of the two she was more reserved, moving along the sides of the crowds to avoid confrontation. As careful as she was in her routine the doctor guessed she was clever enough, but not so much so that she escaped his notice. Like ants in a farm the people below all seemed to bundle together, moving along designated spots which made selecting any one difficult, which made loners like her particularly appealing. “Number seven might be the easiest.” Galahad said at last, rising from his spot. Without waiting for a reply from his far younger partner the gray haired man began to gather the supplies they brought, deciding that it was time to return to the lab at last. Staying out too much longer would be dangerous for the various subjects that they had left behind. “I believe I’ll return to the lab, and prepare. You take care of her and bring her back around sundown.” He smiled before fitting his own mask carefully over his face, and turned to leave, knowing that somehow the other man would pull through.
~~
Below Teyha was completely unaware of the surveillance. Most went well out of their way to ignore those who lived outside of social circles, staying both physically and emotionally detached. Like her they were caught in trying to ensure their own survival, trying to make it to the next day without doing anything that would get you killed.
Today was like every other, scavenging for whatever might be safe to eat or drink. Often the safest spots to find food were old convenience stores, in the still tightly packed containers. Shipments had stopped long ago, but when so many fled the cities there were few others left to try to gather supplies. Of course that didn’t make things easy, as the girl had learned. Many days, like today, there was just nothing to find. The shops she frequented were cleaned out, and violent gangs controlled large sections of the city, making it impossible to try to find a new location.
Defeated, hungry, and tired the girl decided to return to the abandoned apartment she had been staying the past few weeks, seriously considering just moving on from the city before she became too weak for the trip.
It’s easy to find targets in the southern end of England, even those that passed the doctor’s standards. It was those that were alone and desperate that Galahad Palmer relied on for his research, the poor souls that didn’t fit in any form of organized groups in the once densely populated city. Living without support it was only a matter of time before these men and women died, either from the terrible disease that he was working to prevent, or any number of other causes that it was almost maddening to consider. Certain death on the streets, or a chance at an almost eternal life by his experiments, one of the few who might be able to survive the dying age, for him it seemed an easy decision.
His new subject was going to be young this time, he decided. Youthful bodies were better able to adapt to pain, mentally and physically, and that is what he needed in the first successful tests. For days now he tracked several young women that moved through the sparsely populated city, watching their every movement carefully. “The blonde has suffered three nosebleeds within two days.” Galahad murmured, spotting the growing crimson stain against the crisp white mask, and scribbled the observation down in his journal. It could very well be nothing, as the temperature drops and the air becomes more dry nosebleeds frequent many people, especially the young. It simply was not a risk that he was going to take, and put the lives of everyone in the operation in terrible danger. There was still too much to be done. “That makes eight unusable.” He commented, giving his assistant a sideways glance as he pulled the thick goggles from his head to scrub at them absently with a dry handkerchief. It was very rare that their selection pool was narrowed down so quickly, proof of just how quickly the disease was eating away at the population. “We have two left.” He gestured absently down at the streets below, before sliding the binoculars to the other man.
The first a rather short girl, auburn hair from what he saw, sixteen perhaps by the way her body was built, though he could not tell much beyond that with the protective gear those who walked the streets wore. Old fashions were abandoned for rough, thick one piece suits that covered a rubbery undersuit, which prevented bodily fluids from touching the skin. Thick gloves and boots were made of a similar, if thicker material to avoid puncture. Over their heads most wore a form of hood or cap, a white mask to cover the nose and mouth, and heavy goggles to hide the eyes. It stole away almost all recognizable features short of build and the short tuffs of hair that stole their way from under the lip of the hood. The second was a taller brunette, glossy curls often tumbling out from under her cap. Of the two she was more reserved, moving along the sides of the crowds to avoid confrontation. As careful as she was in her routine the doctor guessed she was clever enough, but not so much so that she escaped his notice. Like ants in a farm the people below all seemed to bundle together, moving along designated spots which made selecting any one difficult, which made loners like her particularly appealing. “Number seven might be the easiest.” Galahad said at last, rising from his spot. Without waiting for a reply from his far younger partner the gray haired man began to gather the supplies they brought, deciding that it was time to return to the lab at last. Staying out too much longer would be dangerous for the various subjects that they had left behind. “I believe I’ll return to the lab, and prepare. You take care of her and bring her back around sundown.” He smiled before fitting his own mask carefully over his face, and turned to leave, knowing that somehow the other man would pull through.
~~
Below Teyha was completely unaware of the surveillance. Most went well out of their way to ignore those who lived outside of social circles, staying both physically and emotionally detached. Like her they were caught in trying to ensure their own survival, trying to make it to the next day without doing anything that would get you killed.
Today was like every other, scavenging for whatever might be safe to eat or drink. Often the safest spots to find food were old convenience stores, in the still tightly packed containers. Shipments had stopped long ago, but when so many fled the cities there were few others left to try to gather supplies. Of course that didn’t make things easy, as the girl had learned. Many days, like today, there was just nothing to find. The shops she frequented were cleaned out, and violent gangs controlled large sections of the city, making it impossible to try to find a new location.
Defeated, hungry, and tired the girl decided to return to the abandoned apartment she had been staying the past few weeks, seriously considering just moving on from the city before she became too weak for the trip.