Post by Gemini on Apr 4, 2024 15:55:20 GMT
The scene opens inside of the darkened chambers of the "Sleepy Hollow" asylum/laboratory in Reno, Nevada. A place that has been long decommissioned and condemned. As such, there is nothing here but the remnants of equipment from previous experiments, both successful ones and failures as well as spider webs that have gathered ever since the final scientist left this facility.
Or so it was thought.
In the corner of the room, out of sight of anybody who would want to enter this particular lab, is a shadow. One that eerily appears to belong to a human... if you can call the owner of the show that. There is an aura about it that can only be described as chilling. The sort that you would be more accustomed to from a horror movie or your worst nightmare rather than reality. Following the shadow leads to a masculine figure leaning against the crumbling brick wall, shrouded in darkness. His face is covered in face paint akin to that worn by the famous superhero "The Crow", with a deep red glow appearing to come from his eyes as he stares blankly forward. Fixated on a wooden table that has what appears to be smears of blood on it as well as rusted steel chains dangling down from its corners. As if looking at it is causing him to recall memories that had previously been repressed.
A slight smile begins to creep across the figure's face, as a small rat scurries across the room, its soft squeaks filling the air before it disappears into a small hole on the right-hand side of the room, leaving the figure alone once more. A figure that remains as still as a statue, his eyes focused solely on the table, seemingly obsessed with it. His eyes flicker as he blinks, finally showing some sign that it is actually alive, before the smile vanishes, replaced by an icy cold stare, causing the already cold room to grow even colder, to the point that it would send shivers down the spine of the average person.
Luckily, the average person never came to this place, even when it was operational.
After what seemingly is an eternity, the figure finally shifts his focus from the table, to a rusted steel stand, with electrical wiring coiled around it, which is frayed and exposed, yet thankfully not connected to a powerpoint. So, at least there is no risk of electrocution if someone was to inadvertently touch it. Slowly moving out of the corner, the figure inches toward it, almost as if he is being pulled in its direction before stopping and staring at the wooden door at the exit of this room.
Figure: 13 years... I have been locked away from society. 13 years, I have been waiting for someone... anyone to come and find me. To try and step into my world, just as the misguided souls of the IPW had done.
Nobody did.
Nobody was brave enough to tempt fate and answer to their own hatred. Their misery, because they knew what the outcome would be. They knew that if they came to me. If they tried to resist the fate that had been dealt to them, then they would not be walking out of this chamber. It would be here that they would be left to rot, unable to answer the questions that they themselves had asked, their screams going unheard, just as mine have.
It would be then that they would begin to understand what it is like to not hold your fate in your hands.
The figure's expression becomes demonic, as his words reverberate throughout the deathly silent room.
Figure: That is the only feeling that I have ever known... for my fate has never been in my hands. I have never been the one to control their destiny. They did that to themselves. I am simply the one who has executed it before their very eyes, ensuring that their reality. Their pain. Their agony is all that they truly know once the smoke cleared, and the mirror was placed before them.
That's if they would even look into it.
His voice a low, gravelly tone, the figure's eyes begin to glow once more. This time one not out of anger, but rather pointedly reflecting the souls of those who fell to him, projecting them inside of his mind.
Figure: Most of them chose not to, instead believing in their own greed. Their own ego and the lies it told them were all they would listen to... even as they were brought to the point of absolute destruction and decimation. Known as nothing more than a victim of their own truth.
Those words sinking in, the figure narrows his focus on the doorknob.
Figure: They became a symbol for what it meant to die by one's own hand.
To suffocate without being able to make a sound.
All because they entered a world that they couldn't foresee. Their beliefs. Their deceptions. Their pleas mean nothing within the confines of this world. This room, which is why when the blade swung down and the hourglass ran down to the bottom, they had no choice but to submit themselves to their destiny. It was then that they finally became free from their burdens. It was then, that they were washed clean of all their blood.
The figure's smile turns wicked. Well, even more wicked than it had been, even baring his teeth.
Figure: Reborn in the image that they were always born to be. No longer inhibited by their false idols or incapability to understand the truth, they were able to become an enlightened form. Realizing that they had been distorted and led astray and needed me to bring them into my world and pick apart their carcasses. Piece by piece. Use them as a fiddle before putting them to rest.
In turn, they fed the lust for blood. The lust for violence that resides within me.
A thirst that was once quenched by the IPW. By the soft whispers of death that would arise whenever I stepped into the ring and looked my next victim in the eyes, caring not if they were fresh faced and blinded by the world or a hardened name who had seen all that the world had to offer them, for they were all the same at the end of the day.
They all bled.
They all screamed.
They all stopped breathing when it all fell down.
Now, the doors of the IPW have closed. They are nothing but crumbling buildings and passages of decay... Never to see the light of day again. That is why I sat in the background. Watching. Lurking. Waiting for the moment where there would be a new place to feed. Somewhere that would serve as my new home, filled with people who had allowed their egos to blind them. Allowed the flames of their rage to simmer to the point where it would be worth breaking them down once more and recommencing the malicious resurrection.
He methodically walks toward the door, stopping at a pile of rubble, consisting of bricks and concrete from the ceiling that is just as dilapidated as the rest of the facility.
Figure: For 13 years, I have searched... and now, I have found the perfect place. A place that is just as filthy as the IPW was back when I first walked in. A place that seems to believe that it offers the best competition. That it has a collection of talent who can hold water when the walls crumble inward, and they are forced to stand on their own.
Not realizing that it is a promise that they cannot keep.
Deep down, they are weak. Unable to do anything but helplessly watch as they are pulled apart from the inside. Left inside their own squared prison cell with somebody who enjoys watching them squirm. Who takes life from knowing that no matter what they try, they will never be able to solve the riddle placed before them. Smiling as they lead themselves to their own slaughter.
Many have tried to crack the code. All have failed.
He resumes his walk, reaching the door and placing his hand on the brass door handle. Turning it clockwise before swinging it about a quarter of the way open. Revealing the dingy, dimly lit hallway that runs throughout the facility.
Figure: They were never able to find the key. Never able to see the light, even as it stared directly at them...
It's a story that will remain true in the IIW.
You can try to talk about how it's going to be different. How 13 years of dormancy means that times have evolved. That the new generation are resisting the mistakes of the past. That they have learned the error of their ways, yet that couldn't be further from the truth. They have instead fallen into the same old habits as their predecessors. The same pride that consumed them in the past, still plagues the landscape today. Even more so than ever before.
It is that which has brought me out of the darkness and into the light.
It is me, who is needed in order to deliver the cruel fate that shall befall each and every soul who lays in my wake. The hand that shall rebuild the world in the image that it was always meant to be. One where the sweet decay of death is the scent guiding you into your mirror.
Walking down the hallway, he is unperturbed by the scent flowing throughout the air. It's as if he has become familiar with it over the years. In fact, he has a distorted, sick smile.
Figure: Who am I? All you need to know is that I am the one who will bring about the agony that the IIW has eluded for so long. An agony from which there is no escape... unless you open your eyes to the truth that you have denied.
You can either learn from the mistakes of those who came before you, or fall just as they did.
The decision is yours and yours alone.
Panning back to the quarter-opened door, it reveals a name on the rusted steel square that hung precariously from the wood. Its name is "Gemini". The figure continues walking down the hallway, until he reaches another wooden door. This one being the exit to the entire building.
Figure: It will not matter which path you choose to take... your soul has already been condemned. I am just giving you the choice as to how it ends.
Do you wish for it to be soft and painless, or a nightmare from which you can never wake up?
It is the least I can do for you, if you are going to be my new playground. My new home.
For your sake, I hope you choose wisely.
Turning the door once more, he walks out of the facility and into the cold, open night. A streetlight can be seen, illuminating the car park that was once filled with cars belonging to the wide array of scientists and other workers of the facility but is now as barren as the building itself. The exterior of the building is in just as much a state of disrepair as the interior. Falling apart and on the very of collapse, Keeping just out of the line of the streetlight, the figure wanders through the carpark, seemingly at peace under the cover of night.
Figure: May you rest sweetly....
Unbeknownst to the figure, there is a set of eyes watching him from a distance. Parked in a car just outside the main entrance to the building and using binoculars in order to track his every step. Behind them, is a woman who appears to be in her early twenties and is wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and black boots. She has a phone to her left ear.
Woman: Hello... Yes, I have found him... Yes, he was there... He just left. I can trail him if you want... Don't worry, he won't suspect a thing... Trust me, I know all about Project Gemini... Do you want me to bring him to you, or just wait? Okay... I'll be in touch.
She hangs the phone up, continuing her covert surveillance of the figure, now confirmed to be the mysterious "Project Gemini" or simply "Gemini". What she doesn't realize is that Gemini has already disappeared into the night, having evaded her once more.
Indeed, he didn't go anywhere near the front entrance, instead taking a back alleyway. One that he discovered the first time he left the facility. One that allows him to wander alone and in silence. The crunching sound of his feet hitting the gravel and dirt mixture underfoot is the only sound that can be heard as the LED lights of the buildings in the alley light his path, and parts of himself. Revealing the black leather jacket, white t-shirt and black denim jeans he is wearing. Glancing over his right shoulder, the laboratory disappears over the horizon as he wanders away from it..
Gemini: It's done with... Now, the rebirth can begin. One that has been needed for a long time.
Those words drift off into the night as Gemini turns right, disappearing into the night as the scene fades.
Or so it was thought.
In the corner of the room, out of sight of anybody who would want to enter this particular lab, is a shadow. One that eerily appears to belong to a human... if you can call the owner of the show that. There is an aura about it that can only be described as chilling. The sort that you would be more accustomed to from a horror movie or your worst nightmare rather than reality. Following the shadow leads to a masculine figure leaning against the crumbling brick wall, shrouded in darkness. His face is covered in face paint akin to that worn by the famous superhero "The Crow", with a deep red glow appearing to come from his eyes as he stares blankly forward. Fixated on a wooden table that has what appears to be smears of blood on it as well as rusted steel chains dangling down from its corners. As if looking at it is causing him to recall memories that had previously been repressed.
A slight smile begins to creep across the figure's face, as a small rat scurries across the room, its soft squeaks filling the air before it disappears into a small hole on the right-hand side of the room, leaving the figure alone once more. A figure that remains as still as a statue, his eyes focused solely on the table, seemingly obsessed with it. His eyes flicker as he blinks, finally showing some sign that it is actually alive, before the smile vanishes, replaced by an icy cold stare, causing the already cold room to grow even colder, to the point that it would send shivers down the spine of the average person.
Luckily, the average person never came to this place, even when it was operational.
After what seemingly is an eternity, the figure finally shifts his focus from the table, to a rusted steel stand, with electrical wiring coiled around it, which is frayed and exposed, yet thankfully not connected to a powerpoint. So, at least there is no risk of electrocution if someone was to inadvertently touch it. Slowly moving out of the corner, the figure inches toward it, almost as if he is being pulled in its direction before stopping and staring at the wooden door at the exit of this room.
Figure: 13 years... I have been locked away from society. 13 years, I have been waiting for someone... anyone to come and find me. To try and step into my world, just as the misguided souls of the IPW had done.
Nobody did.
Nobody was brave enough to tempt fate and answer to their own hatred. Their misery, because they knew what the outcome would be. They knew that if they came to me. If they tried to resist the fate that had been dealt to them, then they would not be walking out of this chamber. It would be here that they would be left to rot, unable to answer the questions that they themselves had asked, their screams going unheard, just as mine have.
It would be then that they would begin to understand what it is like to not hold your fate in your hands.
The figure's expression becomes demonic, as his words reverberate throughout the deathly silent room.
Figure: That is the only feeling that I have ever known... for my fate has never been in my hands. I have never been the one to control their destiny. They did that to themselves. I am simply the one who has executed it before their very eyes, ensuring that their reality. Their pain. Their agony is all that they truly know once the smoke cleared, and the mirror was placed before them.
That's if they would even look into it.
His voice a low, gravelly tone, the figure's eyes begin to glow once more. This time one not out of anger, but rather pointedly reflecting the souls of those who fell to him, projecting them inside of his mind.
Figure: Most of them chose not to, instead believing in their own greed. Their own ego and the lies it told them were all they would listen to... even as they were brought to the point of absolute destruction and decimation. Known as nothing more than a victim of their own truth.
Those words sinking in, the figure narrows his focus on the doorknob.
Figure: They became a symbol for what it meant to die by one's own hand.
To suffocate without being able to make a sound.
All because they entered a world that they couldn't foresee. Their beliefs. Their deceptions. Their pleas mean nothing within the confines of this world. This room, which is why when the blade swung down and the hourglass ran down to the bottom, they had no choice but to submit themselves to their destiny. It was then that they finally became free from their burdens. It was then, that they were washed clean of all their blood.
The figure's smile turns wicked. Well, even more wicked than it had been, even baring his teeth.
Figure: Reborn in the image that they were always born to be. No longer inhibited by their false idols or incapability to understand the truth, they were able to become an enlightened form. Realizing that they had been distorted and led astray and needed me to bring them into my world and pick apart their carcasses. Piece by piece. Use them as a fiddle before putting them to rest.
In turn, they fed the lust for blood. The lust for violence that resides within me.
A thirst that was once quenched by the IPW. By the soft whispers of death that would arise whenever I stepped into the ring and looked my next victim in the eyes, caring not if they were fresh faced and blinded by the world or a hardened name who had seen all that the world had to offer them, for they were all the same at the end of the day.
They all bled.
They all screamed.
They all stopped breathing when it all fell down.
Now, the doors of the IPW have closed. They are nothing but crumbling buildings and passages of decay... Never to see the light of day again. That is why I sat in the background. Watching. Lurking. Waiting for the moment where there would be a new place to feed. Somewhere that would serve as my new home, filled with people who had allowed their egos to blind them. Allowed the flames of their rage to simmer to the point where it would be worth breaking them down once more and recommencing the malicious resurrection.
He methodically walks toward the door, stopping at a pile of rubble, consisting of bricks and concrete from the ceiling that is just as dilapidated as the rest of the facility.
Figure: For 13 years, I have searched... and now, I have found the perfect place. A place that is just as filthy as the IPW was back when I first walked in. A place that seems to believe that it offers the best competition. That it has a collection of talent who can hold water when the walls crumble inward, and they are forced to stand on their own.
Not realizing that it is a promise that they cannot keep.
Deep down, they are weak. Unable to do anything but helplessly watch as they are pulled apart from the inside. Left inside their own squared prison cell with somebody who enjoys watching them squirm. Who takes life from knowing that no matter what they try, they will never be able to solve the riddle placed before them. Smiling as they lead themselves to their own slaughter.
Many have tried to crack the code. All have failed.
He resumes his walk, reaching the door and placing his hand on the brass door handle. Turning it clockwise before swinging it about a quarter of the way open. Revealing the dingy, dimly lit hallway that runs throughout the facility.
Figure: They were never able to find the key. Never able to see the light, even as it stared directly at them...
It's a story that will remain true in the IIW.
You can try to talk about how it's going to be different. How 13 years of dormancy means that times have evolved. That the new generation are resisting the mistakes of the past. That they have learned the error of their ways, yet that couldn't be further from the truth. They have instead fallen into the same old habits as their predecessors. The same pride that consumed them in the past, still plagues the landscape today. Even more so than ever before.
It is that which has brought me out of the darkness and into the light.
It is me, who is needed in order to deliver the cruel fate that shall befall each and every soul who lays in my wake. The hand that shall rebuild the world in the image that it was always meant to be. One where the sweet decay of death is the scent guiding you into your mirror.
Walking down the hallway, he is unperturbed by the scent flowing throughout the air. It's as if he has become familiar with it over the years. In fact, he has a distorted, sick smile.
Figure: Who am I? All you need to know is that I am the one who will bring about the agony that the IIW has eluded for so long. An agony from which there is no escape... unless you open your eyes to the truth that you have denied.
You can either learn from the mistakes of those who came before you, or fall just as they did.
The decision is yours and yours alone.
Panning back to the quarter-opened door, it reveals a name on the rusted steel square that hung precariously from the wood. Its name is "Gemini". The figure continues walking down the hallway, until he reaches another wooden door. This one being the exit to the entire building.
Figure: It will not matter which path you choose to take... your soul has already been condemned. I am just giving you the choice as to how it ends.
Do you wish for it to be soft and painless, or a nightmare from which you can never wake up?
It is the least I can do for you, if you are going to be my new playground. My new home.
For your sake, I hope you choose wisely.
Turning the door once more, he walks out of the facility and into the cold, open night. A streetlight can be seen, illuminating the car park that was once filled with cars belonging to the wide array of scientists and other workers of the facility but is now as barren as the building itself. The exterior of the building is in just as much a state of disrepair as the interior. Falling apart and on the very of collapse, Keeping just out of the line of the streetlight, the figure wanders through the carpark, seemingly at peace under the cover of night.
Figure: May you rest sweetly....
Unbeknownst to the figure, there is a set of eyes watching him from a distance. Parked in a car just outside the main entrance to the building and using binoculars in order to track his every step. Behind them, is a woman who appears to be in her early twenties and is wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and black boots. She has a phone to her left ear.
Woman: Hello... Yes, I have found him... Yes, he was there... He just left. I can trail him if you want... Don't worry, he won't suspect a thing... Trust me, I know all about Project Gemini... Do you want me to bring him to you, or just wait? Okay... I'll be in touch.
She hangs the phone up, continuing her covert surveillance of the figure, now confirmed to be the mysterious "Project Gemini" or simply "Gemini". What she doesn't realize is that Gemini has already disappeared into the night, having evaded her once more.
Indeed, he didn't go anywhere near the front entrance, instead taking a back alleyway. One that he discovered the first time he left the facility. One that allows him to wander alone and in silence. The crunching sound of his feet hitting the gravel and dirt mixture underfoot is the only sound that can be heard as the LED lights of the buildings in the alley light his path, and parts of himself. Revealing the black leather jacket, white t-shirt and black denim jeans he is wearing. Glancing over his right shoulder, the laboratory disappears over the horizon as he wanders away from it..
Gemini: It's done with... Now, the rebirth can begin. One that has been needed for a long time.
Those words drift off into the night as Gemini turns right, disappearing into the night as the scene fades.