RP: Re-Markan on tha' Changes
Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc
Summary: Ina drops in on Langley to collect what was owed and to go over the details of their contract. Shenanigans ensue.
House Markan
Langley had spent years working alone. Decades upon decades had passed where Langley did all parts of the research and experimentation process. It had been fine. Langley enjoyed the work and reveled in the process. But she was learning to appreciate the perks of having a team of underlings to attend to the more menial tasks.
Langley watched as they scurried about. One was sanitizing instruments while another measured out and organized ingredients. Another was checking and double checking research notes to ensure that this experiment went as intended while a fourth assistant wheeled in a caged feral and set about checking its vitals.
"Experiment log BR dash B, one two two." Langley dictated as her favorite assistant, a young but ambitious vampire named Gladia, who eagerly recorded those words. "Subject remains sedated. Vitals are…" Langley paused as yellow eyes settled upon the fourth assistant, who gave her a nod. "Vitals are holding steady. Preparing to administer the stimulant. Assistants are recommended to maintain a safe distance."
Langley gave a nod to the assistant that had been making measurements and in response, he produced a syringe that had been affixed to a long pole. The needle was jabbed into the feral's neck, releasing the stimulant into the creature's veins.
Even at the best of times, there's a certain risk factor intrinsic to Ina being near a delicate operation- whether it be due to her rambunctious personality, her reckless curiosity, or the more uncanny quirk which tainted the crux of her interactions. Which makes today particularily portentous, for when the foxkin announced herself at the Markan estate- she is, perhaps, close to her worst- a sort of washed out and faded quality to her very being, as though she was a painting left to sit in the sun for many a long year.
To see the foxkin in such a sorry state might even be a delight to the vassal which greeted her at the door- having been already subject to her mannerisms in a prior visit, when she'd availed herself of their library. And yet, whatever good humour might have been found in the bathwater alchemists misfortunate is shortlived- or rather, cut short by a humble nudge of her shoulder as she sought to shove past and report her results to Langley.
Because whatever curious process had left the fox looking hollowed out, had seen fit to fill the blanks with a surfeit of misfortune- the likes of which sees a chandelier spontaneously dislodge and land on the greeter, and simultaneously coax the floor into giving way a mere moment after- paving a path down towards where she intended to go. "...Ja coulda moved instead 'a gawkin'." The vassal, to their credit, is actually still alive- and manages an incoherant gurgling noise- which hits a distinctly higher note as Ina scrabbles to the edge of the newly formed pit, and then drops down onto the rubble pile, availing herself of it's slightly cushioned properties. "Pardonny mwah~" She wriggles her fingers in an attempt at a friendly farewell, before turning around properly to make her way towards whichever lab, office, or what-have-you her gut leads her to, seemingly heedless of the fact that what had once been a set of black workpants and matching coat was now a murky patchwork of dust browns and grays.
The foxkin's timing could not have been more unfortunate if she tried, which was likely fairly par for the course where Ina was concerned. Her presence made itself known right when Langley's assistant injected the feral test subject with a cocktail of stimulants to rouse it from its sedated state. And oh, was it roused.
This, of course, coincided perfectly with Ina walking into the lab. It also coincided perfectly with tiny imperfection in the bars of the cage that held the feral vampire to fail cataclysmically. Langley let out an almost cartoonish sigh as the bars bent and broke and the feral lunged forward, eviscerating the throat of one of her assistants. The other assistants scrambled to contain the gnashing and lashing creature as Langley turned herself around to settle her yellow eyes gaze directly upon the foxkin. Her expression was oddly serene considering the circumstances, even as the fiasco behind her turned into quite the bloody mess.
"Put this on. And in the future, some warning would be preferred. Good assistants do not grow on trees." Langley growled, extending a hand towards Ina. In that hand, there materialized a copper bangle etched with a variety of runes amidst the usual theatrics of green flame and profane magic "And the very least you could do is look… presentable… when you drop by." The word presentable dripped with a fair bit of disdain. Langley did so despise when people lacked decorum.
Behind Langley, one assistant was dead and two were grievously injured but they seemed to have managed to pin the feral down. It was not making this easy for them though, howling like a crazed beast and struggling wildly for freedom. The panic in the room was so decedent but Langley hardly had the time or mindset to enjoy it.
Ina actually pauses for a moment as she strides into the lab- not quite expecting the calamity she's effectively heralded. Admittedly, it's not the most auspicious glimpse of Langleys operations, but to the contractor's credit- they do seem to have the situation in hand. Or at least, the lackeys do.
It's all she can do to suppress a grin, though there's a certain lightness in her step as she hops over to this debacles serene overseer. That said, she's not quite -quick- to simply accept the bangle that's offered- instead taking a moment to procure a pair of rune inscribed gloves from one of her pockets. It's only once they're snugly about her fingers that she goes about the process of tracing over this newest addition to her wardrobe- counting on the identifying properties of Lanlan's gift to discern the qualities of what she's been handed, for better or worse. "Given I'm not looking strung out, or emaciated- I think 'm already lookin' a bit more presentable than most of tha' sad sacks in this city." The grin can't be contained any longer, though the fox at least has the sense to direct it off towards the feral. "Anyways- is this tha' effect of the mystery formula currently, or nah? Cause- if it is, I sorta wanna borrow tha' body -before- it succumbs to the full effects. Fer' a, scientific reasons." It's here that she reaches into a pocket to begin procuring semi-carefully-crumpled documents, "Speaking. Of. Which."
Langley removed her glasses for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. The glasses were returned shortly there after and Langley's typical state of composure was regained.
"No. Your arrival coincided with us giving our previously sedated subject a stimulant to rouse it from its slumber. Thus…" Langley gave a sweep of the hand to gesture to the entirety of the room. "We were just about to inject the subject with a variant of the formula. Testing a hypothesis that perhaps a stimulant will help the internal organs process the formula more effectively."
Langley took the documents that were offered to her and began skimming through them, her expression dull and doing almost nothing to suggest whether or not she found the information at all interesting or intriguing.
"Truth be told, I don't have high hopes for the theory but one must allow one's assistants the opportunity to test their ideas. And what's one more feral corpse on the pile?" Langley seemed oddly casual about the entire ordeal considering that one of her assistants was dead and the others were injured. But assistants were not in short supply. Langley had become sort of an unofficial punishment for disobedient underlings. She was entirely too powerful and useful to get rid of but entirely too dangerous to be given people of high value.
Ina actually makes a point of sidling back a back after Langley specifies that the thrall is, in fact, not in the process of some violent and spontaneous demise. "Neat." There's a pause there, before she casually scoops up a particularily volatile beaker in her off-hand, guided by an impulse that simultaneously keeps her hand steady, " N' i'll take it that's a - if it gets results it's fine, type-a-deal, So, we gouda~" The hand that had been overlooking the bangle flicks upwards, sending it's contents arcing into the air, before her fingers deftly slide within the contours of the descending ring, and begin to casually roll, sending the item into a somewhat smooth spinning motion. "Anyways- I dig ja work. Was wonderin' how ja were plannin' ta make good on wat ja said- but this 'ere is -very- personalized. S'interestin' though, cause I was -expectin' some form a nullification, or some weird sort of inversion- but a siphon? ...s'creative concept." The foxkins expression shifts slightly, her smile growing askew, even as her arm lifts up so the bangle can begin sliding down over her wrist, "Gotta wonder ta where or whomst- n' if it's gonna be up ta' the task. Cause if it ain't, what den'?
Still, Langley had upheld their part of the bargain to a Tee- which meant the ball was in her court to get things done. And given that the horrific hexing of anyone withins arms reach was now an optional quirk of her company- that meant there were a few more avenues open to her. ...That said, the most likely route to success was still apt to be the one paved in boatloads of violence. " So, like- What'd ja use as a stim, or did that part not matter quite as much as just the basics a' gettin' 'em moving faster. If anythin' iffun yer gettin' tha' blood pumpin' . . ." Is that even the right term to use for a vampire? The foxkin waves it off, before continuing with her point, "Doesn't that just mean ja gonna see an effect -sooner-?" Really, she'd almost have a suspicion that at this point, that whoever had suggested the idea was doing the equivalent of throwing corpses at the wall and seeing if -anything- sticks. But, hey, not her place to question it, really. "Anyways, that's what I'm workin' on right now. To that end, been havin' some folks run errands fer me, though not a one knows tha' why."
Having someone who was so thoroughly in the know about how Langley operated was quite the rare thing. Were she more malleable, Ina would have made for an excellent disciple and heir should Langley ever decide to retire. The necromancer could not help but to crack something of a smile as Ina inquired about the finer details of the bangle. But divulging the finer details of the bangle was not part of the deal. The smile probably said enough anyhow.
"A puree of adrenal glands and catalysts. Nothing overly complicated. We aren't breeding super soldiers. Yet, in any case." It was at this point that Langley turned herself back around to face the feral. "At this point, we are just testing theories until someone sticks. I've a standing agreement that ensures that subjects are not in short supply and no one will really miss them."
There was a mild tinge of contempt in Langley's voice when she said that the feral's would not be missed. It was hard to say if that was spurred by residual emotions left behind by the former owner of the skin that she wore or if Langley had come to truly despise how uncouth these mad creatures were. Too similar to a former associate…
"In any regard, I believe we are ready to administer the serum if you care to see the results in person? It is generally quite fascinating, if nothing else. Not to gloss over the work that you've been doing, mind you. Your theories are sound and worth discussion." Langley said that last part very loudly with a tone of derision in her voice.
Ina does, in fact, take the silent smile as an answer, rolling her eyes in retort, alongside a, "Uh-huh. Welp. S'fine. Fer us, anyways." Given that her nature had twisted a bit towards the truly misfortunate, a part of her was morbidly curious if she could trace out any newfound confluences of misery- but, practically speaking- there was just so much work ahead, both in the (Lan)gley Department, the (Lan)d of Rynvale, and the eminent (Lan)^2 Department. "Hah. Aha." It's poorly timed, really- her internal monologue coinciding with the description of what was rolling around in the poor feral's veins, "Well, they certainly seem- catalysed?" Really, Ina had been blessed insofar as avoiding coming anywhere near a feral before this time, which left the rabid behaviour a sort of foreign spectacle.
In any case, while the idea of deploying alchemically enhanced soldiers does briefly tickle a certain chaotic part of her brain, the real piece de resistance out of what was said was the simple fact that she'd get to see all of this play out. "Why, I'd love ta see ja at work." And she would have left it at there, were it not for the rather deliberate manner in which Langley decides to voice their displeasure at the (lack of) results from their peers. Why not rub a little bit of insult into the injury, "This ought ta' be real edu-ma-cational-izing." There. Now they get to feel like they were upstaged by an idiot. Perfect.
In the interim, she does her best to ignore the sudden onslaught of ocular daggers aimed her way, scooting over towards the tables in the room in order to snag a few errant concoctions. Really, the specifics aren't important here- what she's seeking out is more by feel, given the rather dire machinations she has in mind. "Really, 'm jus' sad that I'm missin' a meal. Coulda' had dinner n' a show. N' I dun imagine this is an edible app, yeah?"
There was a strange, knowing look in Langley's yellow eyes as the thought of enhanced soldiers crossed Ina's mind, as if she knew precisely what the foxkin was thinking and had entertained the same idea more than once. The moment passed quickly though as Langley cleared her throat and turned around to look upon the mess this experiment had created.
"I will now introduce the serum. Prepare yourselves." Langley said curtly as a tendril squirmed out from some unspeakable place beneath her labcoat, the tip coiled around a syringe full of an inky black concoction. That vile appendage shot forward like a serpent and the needle found it's mark cleanly in the neck of the feral.
The beast's eyes burned with frenzy. Its muscles tensed and it overpowered the assistants with terrible ease, punching a hole in the gut of one of them. But it did not linger on the assistants, who were instinctually doing everything that they could to distance themselves from this killer. Instead, it rushed towards Langley; spurred on by a burgeoning addiction that its wild mind could never hope to understand.
Langley did not flinch though. She knew perfectly well how this was going to end. The feral paused suddenly, as it closed in on Langley, and heaved as if it were about to vomit.
"As expected," Langley hummed, her voice all professionalism, "the subject's body did initially receive nourishment from the serum but quickly rejected it. I suspect the autopsy results will show mass critical organ failure."
The feral had dropped to its knees by now, with a dazed look on its face as it gasped for air that its lungs would not accept. And then, the subject expired.
Ina 's a curious sort, to the point that she's even able to quell the animalistic instinct to bolt as the feral begins it's brief rampage. And yet, it's not her inaction in the face of imminent danger that's really notable. Rather, it's her distinct addition to the scientific process.
There's a moment, as the beasts fury falters in favor of fear, as it's knees give way and drop it to the ground- The subject expires. But it's not from the calamitous riot being wrought on it's organs by their experimental serum,
No, the coup de grace comes courtesy of an beautiful, and altogether fortuitously timed pickaxe to the skull. Which, probably looks fairly unnecessary to any onlooker, given the fact that the feral looked as though it were on death's door. "...Uh. I got twitchy? Not more 'n 'em, though." Ina's indifference to the death spasms is only matched at her annoyance when the pick refuses to dislodge from the skull- and yet, there is a silver lining to the proceedings.
One that Langleys nature as an contractor might discern, given subtle bit of burglary that's occured- a portion of the fallen feral's essence shorn away- squirreled away so she can better observe where things went wrong, or what could be salvaged from what she saw. "So, uh- anyways. Thanks fer tha' demo."