A Cure? (Open)

[Elizabeth]

Honeymead market. If only this conversation taken place the night before, Elizabeth could have been to the location in mere minutes, given one of her businesses was located within that very market. Her lips twitched in amusement as Doc gave her a passcode, then indicated it was only for tonight. Did it always change, or would it have to be change because of her? Either way, it spoke volumes of how careful and untrusting Doc was, even in regards to technology.

Just as Elizabeth made an appearance to the main floor of the tower, her phone made a noise, indicating she had a new email message. She stopped to see who and what it was about, then frowned at the messages Alexandrea had found and shared with her. In reciprocal kindness for her friend and the woman Elizabeth had claimed as family, and she, Elizabeth, Elizabeth sent a reply to the woman in the form of the information she attained this evening.

Alexandrea,

This is the information in which I found this evening while going through the email databases of three different organizations associated with this 'cure.' "Ultimately, the impression I got from the people upstairs was sinister sympathy. They feel bad for the vampires, but are willing to take action if need be. Leave it to politicians to have two opposite views on the same exact subject." "It took months of experimentation to come up with a standard core set of traits deemed vampiric, but now that we have a better understanding of what makes a vampire tick, we can equally better provide an agent for change." I also came across the same piece of information this evening as you had. We should meet soon and discuss our findings over the next few evenings. Tonight is no good, but give me a few evenings to continue my research before we trade notes? I would enjoy hearing what you have found and your opinion on the matter.

With the email replied to, Elizabeth placed the phone back inside the pocket on the ride side of her hop inseam. She moved to the front door and headed to the west. There was no need for teleportation or fade portals given the tower was in the next district over to the honeymead market area. When she entered the market area, Elizabeth moved to the stationary kiosk of sorts and looked for 'Genesis Solutions.' While she had neighbors all over the market place, she only knew of a few places by name off hand. Once she found it, Elizabeth moved to the building and located the keypad where she punched in the four digit code. Once the door opened, Elizabeth entered and then glanced around, while calling out for him. "Charles?"

[Aden-OCarrol]

[AGAINST THE CURE]
(Doc)

Pulls out his phone and quickly dollars number he knows that they may not get along but one thing he knows about Dr. as he has information and he's pretty sure he's not down with the cure idea. Let see if he help the cause. Hits contacts and hits Docs number. Let's the phone rang and ways to see if Doc picks up " Doc, I know, I am not one you like to talk to right now. But Like help kill the fuckers with the cure. Though, I might help. " Wait to see what Doc says.

[Alexandrea]

Long after Penny had departed Alex's lap, the Allurist remained in her chair. Her mind was busy elsewhere, reading posts in various places from others of her kind and a few sympathetic humans. The majority all echoed Alexandrea's concerns. She was exchanging email fragments with her emails with family and friends, all of them seemed mistrustful of the news of a cure and most feared what the government would do if there actually was one.

Alex tried to stay open-minded and unbiased as she studied the few available facts. And there weren't many. She didn't treat the email tidbits as facts and hoped no one else did, either. It was important to keep in mind what they actually were. Just snippets stolen from private conversations. Between who knew who and whomever. And even the news from media sources were far from objective anymore these days.

She sighed and looked at the time. Not as much had passed by as Alexandrea had hoped. The reply she had sent to Elizabeth had asked for a meeting at dusk, tomorrow. That seemed an eternity away now. The blonde blinked her eyes, getting ready to call it quits for awhile but first sent one last email.

Normally she would just mindspeak to the Mystic but if Zodiac was as anxious as Alex was about this cure, she was certain to be busy. And Alexandrea suspected that the Gypsy was even more invested than Alex herself was. She knew her friend wasn't a huge fan of being a 'creature of the night'. Unlike Alex who adored her new lifestyle. It was just a quickie message, checking in on Zoey and asking how she was getting on. Just a quickie... Alex snickered at her own lame joke.

A new post from an old friend on THe Middle Board 'caught her eye' and Alexandrea opened up her email again. This time sending a more formal message to her fellow business owner, Wendigo. She had always liked the guy but he came off to the blonde as a bit of a stiff shirt, so she picked her words very carefully.

Greeting, Digo! It's been awhile, I know. I've sure you've been as busy as I have, and it not as if we have a lot in common, so I hope it's not out of place for me to address you as just Digo. I have always considered you an ally, if not a friend. And by the words you have written in your post, I can see that our interests are the same once again. I'm attaching a file to you that contains all I have learned so far in the hopes that we can work together to obtain this 'so called cure' and either secure it away safely or destroy it if that becomes required.

She sent the message and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. She had formally made her choice. He gut couldn't let her do otherwise. As much as she might hope for the best in people, and wish to be able to give those of her kind who might want a cure a choice? Every fiber of her being screamed at her that this could end up a VERY BAD THING.


[AGAINST THE CURE]

[Zodiac]

As she pondered the bits of information coming her way, a thought occurred to her. Hacking and spying was not a ‘vamp only’ game. There were other groups that had to be taking an interest in current events as well. Obviously no one on her side of things had a clue as to what they might be thinking, but she could imagine it.

Paladins. Certainly there were some of their numbers left despite the statement that the Order of St James was now defunct. She wondered what was brewing in their minds now, along with the other ‘enhanced’ humans such as Sorcerers and Blood Thieves.

She doubted the blood thieves would support this. No vampires would equal no powers for them. How would they feed to get that rush they were addicted to? No, she did not see them siding with anything the Pallys would come up with. Zodiac had encountered only one sorcerer in her time and the conversation was sketchy at best. She knew very little about their aims and goals, so she put them in with the pallys.

And who were those big fellows she saw the night she checked out the research lab? Tough they were. She had heard someone mention something about ‘super soldiers’ but that sounded too ‘Captain America’ for her liking. Whoever they were, they were on the same page as the Paladins– so far.

Necurats? Were there any of them left? No help for the pallys there. Like the blood thieves, they needed vampire blood, but in their case they needed it to survive.

’The wicked will be punished for their sins.’ the thought drifted in her head.

Yep, basically the Paladin’s credo there. Die vampire scum. Was ‘curing’ a vampire ‘punishment’? She could see them now hunting vampires with dart guns. Every hit injecting some of the ‘cure’ into someone until they were stripped of powers of the night.

Game over, right?

She did not think so. Being a fortune teller gave the gypsy a very deep understanding of human nature and something she had discovered for herself whispered in her mind right next to the ‘wicked will be’ phrase.

’People always know when to start, but they never know when to finish.’

Human nature in full motion. Strip a vampire of their powers. Have they paid for their ‘sins’? No, it was not vampirism that committed the crime. Being a vampire was like owning a gun. How you used those powers determined what you truly are at heart. It would not be enough for the Paladins just to remove the vampire. They would be so wrapped up in a mania of ‘We are doing God’s work and we are winning!’ they would not stop with curing. Their fervor would insist the wicked be punished and the now all too human target would be executed on the spot. There are some in the darkness who might deserve that but there were others who did not. Besides, they would reason they have to do this. In a sick way it would make sense.

She imagined a few she knew but Velveteen came to mind. She was totally happy with her undead existence. Reveled in it and took full advantage of what being a vamp gave her. If she was trap cured? The woman would use every ounce of brain power she had to escape and run back to safety only to be turned back again. Would not Paladin logic suggest they HAD to kill them to keep this sort of thing from happening? And what if they ‘cured’ one who wanted to be free of the night? Would they pause to make the distinction? She doubted it. They would be too swept up in things to think. ‘We are doing God’s work and we are winning!’

And would it stop there? What about the thralls? Are they not guilty of crimes against humanity and God as well? What about humans who had learned to be friends with night children? Guilty as well. It would turn into a massacre of epic proportions all in the name of God and possibly with the government’s blessings. They would have the results of their research to duplicate the vampire’s powers with out the nasty business of being a vampire, so kill them all and let God sort them out.

Maybe some had sinned enough to earn such a end, but not all.

And the fate of those who say did the deal with the government and purchased the ‘cure’? Would they be free to move on again or would a list of them fall into Paladin hands? She could see it now. A quiet morning in her shop. The door chimes ring as several of these so-called ‘Warriors of God’ barge in with weapons drawn.

“You have not paid for your sins, Ex-vampire.”

She would not go down easy. She might even win the first encounter, but the damage would be done. Dead paladins in the shop of a (supposed) cured vampire who never wished to harm anyone? Front page news right there and the hunt would be on. They have to be killed. They cannot be trusted. They have to die.

Death, death, death. Did everything in this ******* city have to end with death? According to the asshats who delude themselves they were never human to begin with and all humans were was simply lunch– yes. They had zero respect for life. The very thing all of them were enslaved to. ‘The blood is the life’ Stoker had wrote in ‘Dracula’ and it was total truth in reality. What was the vampire without the living to feed upon? Nothing.

The Paladins would never stop and the vampires would declare open war on the living and as always, the truly innocent would be caught in the crossfire of it all and the quaint little town of Harper Rock could turn into a warzone from hell.

As she sat there considering it all, her eyes were leaking streams of blood that was ruining the elaborate eye make up she wore for her clients. One had to look the part of a gypsy fortune teller to impress some of them. Her hands were shaking a bit as well.

***

She came to her trailer crying. The other children could be so cruel at times without even realizing it. Instinct drove her to find the one who understood her the best.

“And what happened to you?” she was asked. The seven year old girl looked up at her grandmother’s face and began to sign her answer. The woman watched in patience before reaching out her hand and tapping the girl on the cheek. It was hardly a slap, but the child reacted as if she’d been hit with a brick. Eyes wide in amazement and confusion.

“Why are you crying?” she asked the child. “Over words? Do you even understand who and what you are, girl? You are Szgany. The product of Romany gypsies who have walked this Earth since the time of Egypt. We do not cry unless it is real sorrow and loss. Pride, child, pride!”

“We have taken all the world could throw at us and continue to march proud and free. The Egyptians tried to destroy us and so did the Romans, Visigoths, The Spanish and French. Even the Soviets and Hitler’s stormtroopers could not erase us. We do what we must. We survive. You will survive this so called pain you feel now. Words mean nothing when spoken by fools. You will learn to endure hardship and loss and pain. And you will survive. You are Szgany. It is what we do best.”

***

A final line of blood slowly crawled down her cheek as her hands stopped shaking. The cold glare of her heritage shown in her eyes as she composed herself.

Who are you? Your real name, please.

Oh, that would be the big question, would it not? She had a name. Several names in fact. All of them the most perfect forgeries money could buy and accepted by various organizations, banks, governments and most major credit card companies as actual fact and reality.

Her real name? How could she prove that even if she wanted to? As was told to her by her grandmother, she arrived in this world in the back of a van while the tribe was making its way to a place in Texas on a night in October. (the 31st) Her birth was never reported to any hospital so there was no actual record of her in anyone’s database. Growing up on the rare occasion an ER or a hospital was required, fake identities were given to her to use and when she came of age, no Social security card in her name ever was made recording her as an actual person. As a result, there was no computer file or scrap of paper anywhere that confirmed she ever existed.

She basically was a ghost as far as the system would be concerned.

But a ghost could do a lot. The black markets were a wonderful thing. A little logic, a little convincing, a little favor and a whole lot of money could get a ghost all the flesh it needed. She had a collection of ‘flesh’ that was tailor made for various situations. 7 suits in Mexico, 13 in the USA and 9 here in Canada, not to forget various cyber ones for business dealings via the internet in the world beyond her reach. Sometimes she felt like one of those ‘Faceless Men’ running around in ‘Game of Thrones’ when it came to cyberspace. She could be anyone she needed to be for a purpose, but in the end she was just a ghost.

A ghost who simply wanted a chance to be real, but if her worst fears were realized the cost of reality could equal total disaster for all.

Who was she?

Not so many years ago, she was Angela Ferenczy. Daughter of Amanda and Dimitri and granddaughter of Katrina and Milos Machenca who was being groomed by Katrina to become the spiritual leader of their tribe one day. A seer and witch of no small skill and future leader of the coven of witches within. To be ‘Regina’. A gypsy queen.

In this place? None of that amounted to the breath it would take to say that out loud.

But within her, it still mattered. It would always matter.

Her computer chimed and broke her lines of thought. She clicked on her inbox and found a message from Alexandrea.

Hey, how you holding up so far?

”Doing what I must and surviving,” she thought as her fingers danced across the keyboard.

So far, so good. I have some thoughts about that subject no one wants to talk about out loud. ….

Sometimes, no choice was the right choice.

….and I think this is the worst idea anyone has ever come up with. This needs to be shut down now. If anyone really wants that for the right reason we can hire our own scientists to figure it out. **** the Feds and all of that.

Will post you my new findings when I get them

Peace out

~Z~

She clicked the SEND key and took a deep breath. If the vampires won this, she knew what it would mean. Months of arguments over the ‘cure’ and who should hold it and why is this one holding it and yada yada yada till everyone was blue in the face. The so called cure would sit in a box and never see the light of the moon or a pair of crystal blue eyes looking at it with hope for a future now forever denied her.

”… We do what we must. We survive. You will survive this so called pain you feel now. You will learn to endure hardship and loss and pain. And you will survive. You are Szgany. It is what we do best.”

”Goddam right, Nanna.” she thought. There was still another option open to her. She just needed time to prepare for that, but first things first.

[AGAINST THE CURE}

[Yvette Marie]

Yvette had spent the last five nights only moving to buy blood packs and spending the rest of her time with her head stuck in cyberspace, as it were. She had caught random code here and there that had momentarily caught her interest before, but nothing truly stuck out. Not until two nights ago, when she'd checked the Worthington's way of supplying information.

Apparently she'd been looking in the wrong place. When someone shared their concerns about these sites they usually poked around in, she took note, linking it with the newspaper headline she'd seen the last time she'd gone out. Normally she glanced at them and forgot them just as quickly. The dead bothered her more than the living, nine times out of ten, as they were far more insistent.

"Mackinsey, you're the worst one," she mumbled, and stared at him as her spectre of a twin made faces at her in response. Forever a child, she'd still felt a pang in her- well, their- heart every time she saw his face. She was happy when she was coherent enough to recognize that she would not have to worry about becoming old while he stayed as a young teen. It would have slowly killed her, more painfully than anything else ever could. Her face fell from its usual blankness, and she blinked, her dragon-like eyes faintly glowing in the faint light of her apartment. She never turned on the lights if she could avoid it, but tonight the darkness had seemed like all too much.

She went back to searching, her eyes dulling like no one was any longer at home, as her mind moved quickly between the lines of code (as it appeared in her mind), checking two of the websites the one on the family contact list had mentioned. It seemed a little off, but it did appear that someone wanted to find a way for people to survive this cure. And it seemed like they were surviving with little side effect. Yvette wondered if they had managed to find volunteers from the elder track, ones that had been alive for hundreds of years. But who would volunteer to something without guarantee of life? Who would hate their seeming immortality so much after all these years that they would risk it? The blonde frowned and wondered if they could perhaps tell from blood samples. There just wasn't enough information for her. She needed to find more.

"Still," the telepath spoke out loud (if only for her ghost's benefit), continuing her search of the coding in her mind as she pushed around another layer on this WHO site, "It seems rather suspicious." She moved to check the next website when she saw it. The fragment calling their kind monsters. Whatever this cure was, if the wrong ones got hold of it, it was not going to be good. Images of government agents storming doors and forcibly shoving them into 'wagons' and forced injections like the sterilization procedures under the gestapo flooded her mind. She looked at her door nervously. Perhaps it was time to contact someone and find out what she should do next. She sent the messages to the usual contact, as she had the nights before, before she pried herself She disconnected from the hum and code infested inter-web long enough to try and sense a familiar signature from the minds out there in Harper Rock and to the towns beyond. Tentatively, she touched across one she thought seemed familiar, and lightly connected her mind to theirs. It had the warmth of her bloodline, like feeling the heat from dragons' fire.

Hello? Can you hear me? I found something regarding this cure, and I need to know what I should do now. Yvette tried to send the message across as clearly as she could. Being a telepath meant she had no phone, as the last one she had broken in her last mental trip.

Still, she had to try.

(OOC: This is open to anyone of Worthington or Dragomir lineage that cares to respond, but I can edit it if anyone else cares to? She could always have made a mistake in contacting. Also, currently writing wise she's on the fence, which is why I've not yet included a tag for or against.)

[Mardvosa (DELETED 9357)]

The news had initially put Maryl in a state of utter catatonia, barely moving as she stared at the glow of the wide computer screen. Within her mind, a series of loud arguments took place as she processed the possibility of a cure,
and what it might mean for her. The Darkness would never allow it to happen, with every fiber of it's being, though whatever was still human of Maryl had been absolutely -hoping- for something like this to happen. Thus, both sides internally collided, a clash of strong inner thoughts that would make Maryl's nose bleed, as more voices began to join the fray. Muttering softly to the walls of her home, still decorated with insane drawings and scribblings, and the pitch black word 'psychopath' upon the largest wall, always in clear sight. Internally it seemed as if the conflict of the ages was happening, both personalities struggling against eachother in a dreamscape of armageddon, reliving every nightmare and every experience more vivid than ever before. Whilst this titanic struggle occured within her mind, her body was scratching vigorously at the skin of her arms, until they bled, and her vision had become entirely white.

When Maryl awoke in a daze from her lunacy, unphased by her blood-covered arms, a strange focus overcame her as finally, there seemed to be a hostile consensus within her mind... she needed answers. Concrete answers and information about what had been going on and what this 'cure' entailed, exactly. Calmly sauntering over to a corner of her home, she reached to rummage through some broken furniture and ceramics, for a large, black laptop that now had a thin layer of dust and some food stains on it. It was the one she'd used for hacking programs until recently, when her downloading of camera footage across Harper Rock was discovered, and she put herself at risk. She'd promised herself then, that she'd never boot up this laptop again, vowed that she was done with prying into other people's business... but these were desperate times, and every fiber of her being -needed- to know what was real about these promises of a cure, and what what just more false advertising from a government that was good at lying to it's people. A new voice crept within her head as she booted up the laptop once again, coming up to an old desktop wallpaper with fantasy images. This drive, this will to find out and share the truth had unwittingly created a new persona within her mind that took to the nickname 'Banshee', and that answered to no one...

Fingertips rapidly tapping onto the keyboard, she'd begun to locate the facility and analyse it's digital defenses...
no file or e-mail would be safe, as she would take it all for herself, and leave nothing behind.


[AGAINST THE CURE]

[Azraeth]

[AGAINST THE CURE]

Tagged: Amalea and Yvette Marie

Things were, he suspected, going to escalate very quickly. See, that was one of those things about the vampiric community of Harper Rock. Sure. They couldn’t seem to agree about anything to save their lives (deaths? Lives?). However, when there was a common enemy for them to rise up against, they could get things done in pretty spectacular fashion. Noted. A lot of the time, that seemed to blow up in their faces, but that was entirely beside the point. That was the danger of a mob mentality. The danger of so many moving parts going at once. Sometimes, to use the machinery metaphor, a person did the wrong thing and got their fingers snapped right off. Were there dangers? There were many. The most prominent one was public perception. That whole mob mentality thing went both ways, and while public opinion was in favor of vampires, how easily might that change if news sources began to run different headlines than ‘terrorist cell attacks government facility’? What if the truth came out? What if people were, at their very core, secretly out to only advance the agenda of their own ‘tribe’, and by doing away with the cure, vampires were going to bring those inherent biases right to the surface?

Azraeth had weighed his options, and he knew where his heart was, but that didn’t mean he was blind to the road he was going down.

Part of him wanted to prepare for the worst.

But he had to deal with one problem at a time. Sometimes, it was necessary to act quickly and then make a more detailed plan once the danger was out of the way. And it was as he was ruminating on those thoughts that his phone gave a little buzz. He was seated at his table, a tiny thing with only two chairs across from each other. There was a gray vase with a black orchid in the very center, and the phone itself trembled on the table before Raeth picked it up to look at what Amalea had sent him. He trusted her judgement when it came to these things if only because he knew she had a good head on her shoulders. He had been watching her for a long time, and noticed that she was quiet. But it was more than that - she wasn’t just taciturn for the sake of being shy, but because she was that person in a group who sat back and observed what everyone was doing. The still waters run deep.

To Amalea : I think you’re right. Learning more about it would be beneficial, but I also agree that I don’t think we have time for that. If I know anything, it’s that people are already reacting. My guess is that we have a very limited timeframe before that cure is either stolen or destroyed. I think the wise move would be to get our hands on it, or help see that it gets into the hands of someone that can be trusted until those details fully surface. But I most certainly don’t want a cure around if can be potentially weaponized. I may just end up going down there myself, to see if I can do anything about it. I’ll keep you posted for sure.

As much as Azraeth himself loved to work with a team, he had learned over the years that sometimes matters just had to be taken into his own hands. Of course, he no sooner thought that, and was about to get up to grab his jacket and head out to the facility, when his phone buzzed again, this time from his pocket. A glance at the screen told him it was some sort of mass message from Mortll to the whole of the Voodoo Dragons. Ask and ye shall recieve. He thought to himself. He quickly pulled back up his conversation with Amalea to tap away at the screen.

To Amalea : It looks like Mortll has something planned. I don’t know if you’re interested in joining, but I will probably be there. If you end up sitting this one out, just let me know if something else comes across your path. I’m happy to help out wherever, with whoever. And I’m honestly just a teleport or summons away. I think Mortll wants to destroy the cure, but maybe I can talk her into just keeping it retained deep in one of her properties. Assuming we can even get our hands on it.

And with a final tap, he moved to reach for the door, his fingertips touching the doorknob. But he didn’t twist, and he didn’t step through. Instead, he went to teleport. Except right at the last second, when he blinked out of existence, he heard words speaking directly into his head. He could feel that it was from a fellow Dragomir, and almost immediately picked up that it was Yvette. He had only just seen her a few weeks before at a party, and was pleased to be seeing more from her, hearing more from her. Unfortunately, because he hadn’t focused properly when he was casting the teleportation spell, he ended up quite literally standing on the doorsteps of the Dragomir Temple.

“****! ****!” Well. At least he hadn’t ported into a moving river (which. Yes. He had done before). Or in front of a moving train.

He concentrated so that he could send her a message in return, his disembodied, astral voice very similar to the one he spoke out loud, though a bit deeper and more resonant. Hallo, lovely. Thanks for gathering some information. Could I bother you to post your findings on the Dragomir CrowNet? I’d like to take a look soon, and that’s the only place I’m sure is 100% secure other than meeting you in person. Which. By the way. I should totally do at some point soon. I’m off to do some things with the Voodoo Dragons though at the moment. Let me know if you need anything. OH. And while I have you, I’d love your thoughts on the cure itself as you continue to dig up information. Ta ta for now!

The wind whipped across him, lashing at his jacket, so he zipped it up. And then he was gone again. This time to go and meet up with Mortll and the other Voodoo Dragons.

[Nikolae]

It hadn’t taken Nik long to decide that what he was seeing on the news and hearing in the streets was bad news. It hadn’t taken long either to find the secret facility and sneak inside. He’d killed the first official looking human he’d come across, and been systematically murdering everyone with a heartbeat ever since. They didn’t go down easily, but lucky for Nik his rage was enough to power him through most wounds he received.

The place gave him the creeps, and for the Dragon that saying something. He’d spent plenty of time in some of the creepier places in this town, had cut his proverbial teeth slaughtering the undead in the quarantine zone, and seen more monsters than his imagination could have ever thought up. But this sterile building made his mouth go dry and his chest fill with dread with every new floor he moved to. There were so damned many here. Other immortals were pouring into the place, and he was glad to see those who were fighting the humans that manned the proverbial fort. His phone buzzed, but he ignored it in the midst of another battle.

He’d grown weary, figured it must be daylight outside, and found himself a room to crash in for the night. Barricading the door after looking around to confirm the place had already been ransacked and more than a few people had been killed here by others who had come before him, the Dragon had settled in to rest. Then he’d checked his phone at last. Raeth had texted him, no surprise there. Before replying though, he went to the Dragomir forum and scrolled through the latest thread Wafa had posted. The girl had become the head of Dragon Intel, though he hadn’t officially bequeathed the title on her. He wasn’t sure she really cared about titles. She was just doing what she always did: dig for information and share that knowledge with everyone she knew. He liked that about her. No ego, no chest-beating, just cold hard facts. Like all of the female Dragons, she was a cool spirit. All that said, the words he read made his blood boil. It was like every supposition he had had about this whole thing was proven right with every new piece of information. His sweet Yvette had found other information that proved the same. He made a quick post to the thread, short and to the point as always. Probably giving away his rage. And then he blasted a thought to his first borne.

Raeth. Make sure the other Dragons are safe. I’m at the facility… killing the humans before they can kill us. I’ll be home soon as this is over, one way or another.

Nik jammed his phone back in his pocket and stood, wiping blood from his face. It wasn’t his. He drew out his favorite sword and strolled back into the hallway, ready to battle.

[AGAINST THE CURE]

[Doc]

[AGAINST THE CURE]

Timing: Early morning hours of the 9-16-17

“I’m in the conference room, come on back Lizzie..” Doc hadn’t shared the the email fragments with anyone, thus far. Lizzie had found them, it was only right he let her know he couldn’t keep them secret. He knew what he wanted to do, but even he might argue it was rash. But he had intimate knowledge of experimentations. He had been on the government payroll doing just that before he was turned. He -knew- what governmental experimentations were like. The politicians didn’t want to know details. They hid being strategically ‘ignorance’. That ignorance gave them plausible deniability.

In preparation for this meeting, he brought a file that he thought he would never have to open and revisit again. But in this case, he needed Lizzie to be aware of the type of ‘government’ they were dealing with. On the conference table there were photos laid out, clinical photographs of experiments in mid-process. He moved to the conference room door, and as Lizzie entered, he pulled it shut and secured it.

By the time he had turned back to Lizzie, he was pretty sure she had seen the photographs in all their graphic glory. Doc was silent for a moment, before finally saying “Our government is not new to experimentation.” He walked to the edge the table pointed to the photograph of the 16 year old female subject. “Test Specimen AU0613. When the experiment did not come to fruition as they hoped, it was terminated.” He pointed to the next photo, of a young male, seemingly well nourished but clearly had a vacant stare. “Terminated.” He pointed to photo after photo, “Terminated.”

Doc frowned, and pressed his lips together grimly. “These were all government sanctioned and paid for experiments. Taxpayer dollars at work.. The money was washed through several off shore accounts, to ensure that it was not easily traced back to them. But it was government sponsored and sanctioned.”

Finally making eye contact with her, from across the table. “I reported to the task force, it was joint effort with the US DOD and the Canadian DND. I gave quarterly updates in DC. What they wanted, wasn't going to work. They did not care. ‘Keep trying until you get results’.” He looked at the photos and then back at Lizzie, “This is what they are doing to vampires.. This is not going to end with talking.”

[Elizabeth]

The conference room. She wasn't positive where that was, but it wasn't hard to determine where his voice was coming from. Doc hadn't wasted any time speaking as soon as she was in the room and the door was closed. Her eyes fell to the pictures and to each one as he pointed them out. She frowned, but remained silent.

Did she believe that some had not suffered to some degree in finding this 'cure?' It would be a naive notion. Elizabeth was aware of 'experiments' and how they were done. Mostly unwilling people, occasionally a willing would crop up for the 'greater good.' Her eyes shifted away from the pictures as she looked at Doc and nodded in understanding. "Yes. Much like the night with the werewolf. I am aware, Charles." There was no tone to her voice, just an acknowledgement that she understood that tests required subjects. "Those...children should not have been part of something like that. Where were their parents?" Her voice rose a little, indicating her irritation...but at who? The parents, or the people experimenting on them? Maybe both.

"But, I have not seen a vampire child in some time. Have you?" She asked curiously, wondering the answer for two reasons. Would someone sire a child? It was unimaginable in her mind and should be illegal. And if children; vampire or otherwise were being experimented upon, then she would most assuredly put a stop to it. Not to attain the cure, but to free them from the captivity they faced. "Regardless of who is being tested on, perhaps the 'cure' may be a good thing. We all know of vampires who...simply should not be part of our species. And killing them does nothing." She pointed out. "That is, if this is genuine. Something I know not. Do you plan on finding out first hand?"