Dieselpunk Revolution: Der Kindernacht & Kore124 1x1

[Omniscient Muse]

The setting:

Tenova is a region constantly pitched into violent warfare between the class ranks. The wealthy have taken it upon themselves to ensure that their authority is never challenged; bribing the corrupt government has never been difficult.
Tired of constantly being trampled, the lower class has risen up and joined together in a resistance movement to fight back, but while the wealthy have paid science and fancy weapons on their side, the rebellion only has what they can scrape together from scraps and their own ingenuity.
When all seems hopeless, a strange new figure arises on the side of the rebellion. Known even to those on the same side as simply "Horus", this mysterious figure arises when the rebellion seems all but crushed, and brings with them the kind of strategy and technology to avoid utter destruction. Now, years after the rebellion began, will all of that be enough after all?  

[Omniscient Muse]

Profiles (to be updated as needed):

Played by: Der Kindernacht

Name: Finch, aka "Memory"
Age: 18
Appearance: Measuring in at about six feet tall, Finch was raised as a worker child, broke and depending on manual labor to keep himself alive. His build is muscular, though not immense (in part due to limited food supplies). His skin is tanned from the sun, and his hair is dark brown and sloppy, cut to a couple of inches long; when it's dirty enough, it curls up at the ends. Finch has heterochromia, a distinct trait that he's always been afraid makes him too identifiable, even disguised: his left eye is brown and his right eye, blue. On his left arm, he has the indistinct scarring of a branding that has since been carved away; as a young boy he was branded by the work camp he belonged to, like many of the lowest class workers. He generally covers up as much skin as possible, and often wears a handkerchief wrapped around the lower half of his face.
Likes: Junk food, fast vehicles, computers and books. Put Finch in front of anything he can learn from, and he'll absorb information until he has to pull himself away. At the end of the day, he likes the typical pleasures too, for the most part. Show him a fancy car or a cool piece of technology and he'll be immensely excited.
Dislikes: Excessive violence, crowded rooms, intoxicating substances. While he knows that it's important to be able to take down an enemy if necessary, Finch will pointedly avoid doing anything that results in excessive bloodshed and gore, if possible. He also tries to avoid anything that would impair his functioning, such as intoxicants or spaces he knows he would be too overstimulated from his surroundings.
Skills/talents: What Finch lacks in actual discernible technical skills, he makes up for in sheer processing power. Gifted with a near-perfect eidetic memory, he's a frequent helper when it comes to remembering important information that's too risky to write down or put anywhere that somebody else could access it.
Finch is great as an unassuming agent, you can send him anywhere and he'll look like a stupid clueless kid and nobody will realize that he'll be able to spit out every word of what he's heard, even hours later. For those who do know, having Finch in the room can be something of a liability; his closest superiors would trust him with anything, but many of the other members of the rebellion do not, so he tends to keep his trap shut about his special talent unless needed.
He's alright at sneaking around, and pretty good at swinging heavy objects as weapons. His aim with a gun is acceptable but not great.
Personality: Finch is, in a word, exuberant. He's always ready and willing to do whatever he has to do, for whoever is bossing him around, and he'll seem to take nothing but pleasure in doing it all. He tends to come off strong when he's in a mode that he's trying to impress somebody with.
Remove the pressure to impress, and he instantly deflates into a cynical teenage boy that likes to make snarky remarks about the goings on around him, and is a little too haunted by all the visuals he can't wipe from his perfect memory. He won't get close with people until he knows they've got a good chance of not dying, for this reason.
Backstory: Finch was born among the poorest of the poor, and would have probably spent his entire life aimlessly working in camps if it weren't for his gift. From an early age, Finch was used as the data recorder for the rebellion members in his work camp; he still has most of this information recalled perfectly, even over ten years later. Known only by "Memory" at that point, his identity was mixed up with his father's, and when it came time for somebody to be killed to make an example of how big a mistake it was to rebel, his father was killed in his stead. Not too long after, his mother was killed after attacking a guard in a fury, for revenge.
Finch was bounced from camp to camp, between different caretakers, until he was intercepted by a young man named Matthew who took him in to join the rebellion for real, this time.

Name: Matthew Anderson
Age: 37
Appearance: The most immediate thing anyone would notice about Matthew is his bright, curly red hair, an unkempt mess that he rarely even tries to tame, though it's long enough to tie into a stubby tail at the back now. After that, he has a face like a piece of Picasso work; Matthew has had his nose broken so many times that it's permanently crooked, and narrow and sharp, appearing fragile and easily breakable still. He has sharp cheekbones and thin features, pale skin and pale eyes, mostly blind these days. He's almost always seen wearing a pair of bulky goggles that he claims allow him to see better, but aside from this he dresses in fairly casual, comfortable clothing that's usually pretty loose on him since Matthew is very lanky and sickly. He likes to wear a lot of black and white. He's 5'6".
Rumor has it, Matthew was one of the first to begin following Horus, and as a reminder of this fact, he has the swirled Eye of Horus tattoo scarred underneath his left eye.
Likes: Classical piano, warm dinners, free time to relax and chill out. Matthew likes very little about this whole rebellion thing, but he recognizes the importance of it, hence his involvement. He will take time for himself whenever possible, just to recharge.
Dislikes: Birds, quiet times, physical contact. As much as Matthew enjoys peaceful days, he can't stand it when things get too quiet. He's also very prone to flinching if people try to touch him.
Skills/talents: Matthew is an inventor, first and foremost, and a strategist after that. He's terrible when it comes to big things that move, he couldn't put together the simplest of vehicles, but when it comes to more intricate and delicate works, he's the man for the job. Matthew specializes in building computerized components out of junk, and argues that this is part of why he's going mostly blind; suffice to say he hasn't always had proper goggles for all the spot welding.
As for strategizing, Matthew is reportedly involved closely with the figurehead of the rebellion, and knows where and when to plant bombs and where and when to make quick attacks. When ambushed, he easily thinks on the fly, to keep himself and his companions safe,
He can aim a gun exceptionally well when he's wearing his goggles, as they help him calculate exactly where to aim. He has the physical strength of a child, so if he can't take someone down with bullets, and has to resort to hand-to-hand, he's doomed.
Personality: Matthew is one of the last kinds of people you might expect involved in a rebellion, because he really just seems like the sort who would sleep through an entire war and not realize he missed anything. He comes off as perpetually being in a state of either exhaustion or mild intoxication, when he isn't under pressure. He's been known to doze off in the middle of conversations if they don't interest him enough.
On the battlefield, he's a completely different person; any amount of calm and chill vanishes away. In those times, Matthew may as well be a computer, cold and ruthless and ready to wipe out anyone if it means victory--women and children included. He's the sort who would stop at nothing to destroy the enemy, and when he's got any kind of power in his hands, this can be quite the frightening mess.
Backstory: Matthew always fails to disclose his background, but he would admit that he was rejected by his original family members after they realized that his childhood epilepsy was a burden. For the first nearly twenty years of his life, he remained prone to frequent and sometimes violent seizures, and then one day they simply stopped. He won't explain if he knows why, or not.
For years after that, Matthew worked with the Tenovan government, performing experiments under their watchful scrutiny, and it was here that he learned how to interrogate enemies, and how to build up complicated strategies to fool anybody. He served as a double agent, both for the government and the rebellion, until a fellow double agent ratted him out.
For the past seven or eight years, Matthew officially hasn't existed in the eyes of the government or anyone else. He vanished off the radar, and has been focused full time on the rebellion movement ever since.

Name: Tarrow Jackdaw
Age: 26
Appearance: Tarrow is incredibly short, coming in at only 5'1". Tiny as a kid, she grew into a stockier build over the past couple of years, though she attempts to somewhat hide her size with carefully selected clothing. Tarrow is the sort who will always arrive anywhere dressed nicely, even if she knows she'll just be covered in blood soon. She has brown skin and straight black hair, kept short and streaked with chunky highlights of blonde. Like Matthew, she's generally seen wearing goggles, but she has no visual issues; they may just be for aesthetic purposes, or maybe something else.
When she's dressed to go to her government job, she wears a plain brown wig, cut in a tasteful bob cut that brushes her shoulders.
Likes: Fancy coffee, loud music, expensive cars. Tarrow has a great taste for the finer (read: more expensive) things in life. She would not at all be opposed to stealing all the nice things the rich folks own, instead of destroying them. But, you know, you do what you have to.
Dislikes: Heeled shoes, weapons that auto-aim, artificial intelligence. Tarrow would never be caught dead wearing heels if she had any choice in the matter, but her position often leaves her stuck with them; she's gotten very good at running in them, at least. She feels that technology can go too far, and dislikes the mere idea of artificial intelligence or other forms of programming that do the thinking for people, let alone actually seeing those ideas in practice.
Skills/talents: Tarrow is a flawless double agent. Trained by Matthew in the art of deception when she was still younger, she worked her way to a government position and has stayed there ever since, far surpassing any skill that Matthew ever had in keeping himself hidden. Her talents don't just end at the act of staying hidden, either; should she ever be caught, she would be prepared. Tarrow is an excellent aim with most kinds of guns she's ever gotten her hands on, and she can run and fight in heels better than a lot of people who aren't wearing them. She would be able to hold her own in a physical fight with an untrained adversary; so long as she can use technique to overpower brute force, she'll manage it.
Personality: If anyone ever took anything too seriously, it was Tarrow. She's got a personal vendetta against everyone she works with officially, truth be told; in her unofficial job as a rebellion member, she still finds many of her co-conspirators very frustrating. One of the few she can tolerate is Finch, who she tries to look out for, since he's so much younger than she is. If she thinks that somebody can't take care of themselves, she'll try to look out for them, but in the case of somebody like Matthew, who she thinks is just refusing to be responsible for his own well-being, she won't even bat an eyelash.
In her official duty as a government-employed interrogator, she is ruthless and cold. She won't hesitate to cause permanent harm to someone who may even be on her own side, solely to make her act more convincing. She doesn't seem to dwell on the things she's done, either: as long as it served a purpose in the grand scheme of things, anyone is disposable, even herself.
Backstory: Tarrow was born into the lower middle class, and her parents gave her up for adoption in the hopes that she would be found by a wealthier family. It ended up working; she was raised with a decent amount of money and a good education, and aimed for a respectable job as the CEO of her adoptive mother's company, until her father was found conspiring to help the lower class, and the family was stripped of social rank.
Resentful of how her future had been stolen from her, Tarrow joined the rebellion just to make a statement; while she was there she met her real parents.Though she'd long known she was adopted, she couldn't imagine that her parents were anything but typical middle class people. Meeting them in the rebellion cemented her certainty about joining.
When they died in a violent conflict only months after she met them, she began to work earnestly at moving up in the ranks until she could talk to somebody who could give her advice on how to really make a difference and bring the corrupt government down. Matthew was still working as a double agent when he enlisted her to do the same, and showed her the ropes. Despite some difficulty in getting past her parents' "mistakes", she was able to get a position and has been working as an interrogator ever since. She supplies information to the resistance, and gives warning when interrogated prisoners have given away too much information.

Name: Lacey Anderson
Age: 7
Appearance: Lacey is a very small girl with long, wavy red hair. Luckily, her hair isn't as much of a frizzy mess as her father Matthew's. She's got dark brown eyes, and she usually wanders around wearing dresses that are made out of old shirts, and always makes sure to wear shorts underneath her dresses, in case she has to run or something, so she doesn't embarrass herself. She wears goggles like everyone else, but they're pretty oversized on her, and it's arguable whether they were given to her or she took an older pair from Matthew.
Likes: Books, rainstorms, cookies. Lacey really likes some of the books that she's read, and she can be really mellow, but she also thinks it's really fun when it rains and she can play outside in it. This usually ends in frustration for her father, and a lot of mud getting everywhere.
Dislikes: Loud music, red meat, cleaning. Like many children, Lacey is an incredibly picky eater and hates doing chores. She doesn't like terribly loud music, because she says it hurts her ears.
Skills/talents: Nobody is entirely sure what makes her so special, but Lacey is supposedly one of only a handful of people who actually know the identity of the infamous figurehead Horus, and is reportedly the only one that Horus actually likes. If that isn't a skill, well, she's very good at crying on cue to get what she wants, and she can read pretty well for a seven year old, because Matthew has been working with her for as long as she's been able to read anything at all.
Other than that, I mean, she's a kid. She doesn't shoot guns or anything like that. She only knows basic math and still believes in magic.
Personality: In a word: bubbly. Lacey is the full extent of innocent exuberance that Matthew completely lacks. She cares about every member of the rebellion, and considers them all friends, and tries her hardest to make sure everyone is happy if there's anything she can do about it. She can have very serious moments, suggesting she does realize the depth of the war that's going on, but she just as quickly returns to her bubbly self again afterward. She likes to brag to people about how she's really good friends with the boss man, but naturally, nobody really believes the stories of a child that says they know the leader of a revolution. That's just weird.
Backstory: Lacey's mother was a great woman, apparently, who died in a skirmish while she was only a few months old. Ever since, she's been raised by pretty much everyone. Although a lot of time is spent with her father, Matthew has never really taken it upon himself to singlehandedly raise her; there are just so many people around that it would be silly not to utilize outside resources. As a result, the rebellion is her family, and everyone is her friend.
That's about it. She's too young to have much of a backstory yet.



Played by: Kore124

Name: Alexander Crow
Age: 23
Appearance: stands five eleven and one hundred thirty pounds. He is rather scrawny but well muscled. His hair is grown out to a length to cover his ears. Mostly a dark blonde with a thin light blonde streak at the front. It's been that way as long as he can remember. Usually wears a light sleeveless shirt with an old black leather jacket over it. Also wears cargo pants tucked into pair of work boots with a tool belt at his waist. Almost can't be found without motor oil on his hands, face, or clothes. That's just a fact of life when working as a blackhand. Also wears an old officers cap with a pair of goggles for when he is working. There is a small, but jagged scar across his right, and a longer one down his right arm from where a chain snapped and hit him while working. Wears gloves to hide where he lost two fingers in another engine accident.
Likes: engines, meat, and driving.
Dislikes: crowds, the police, and guns.
Skills/talents: a mechanic of the highest caliber. Can fix anything with an engine. Can probably drive it too.
Personality: Normally a calm and collected individual. Tries to always figure out every detail of a problem before coming up with a course of action. Never been one for people though. Most assume he is a mute since he rarely speaks. The only one he would ever open up to was his wife, Jesse.
Backstory: He was born the third son of a shop keeper. At the age of ten he was apprenticed to a black hand. Normally he would have spent four years as an apprentice, but surpassed his teacher in three. At the age of sixteen he inherited the garage, since his teacher didn't have any kids of his own. At eighteen he did a two year stint in the military. He wanted to see the world and thought this was the best way. In the end he only saw how cruel the world really was. His captain had refused to execute an unarmed man accused of being a rebel. His squad was given a choice. Put both of them in a firing line or be killed themselves. A month later when it came time to renew his service, he passed up and went back to the garage. Soon after he married his childhood sweetheart, the niece of his teacher. Times
Were peaceful and happy. Until she was accused of spying and executed in the middle of town. Alex went on a rampage, killing two police and wounding another six, with nothing but a wrench. He was jailed and to be executed the next morning.  

[Omniscient Muse]

[Reserved]  

[Omniscient Muse]

[Reserved]  

[Omniscient Muse]

The prison reeks of sweat and of blood that's gone rotten, reminders that most prisoners haven't arrived at all by choice, and many have been willing to fight and die instead of being taken. Very few cells are shared; after past issues of co-conspirators being imprisoned together, the cells are kept understocked by swift and merciless executions.

For which Alexander is next in line.

His cell, small and cramped like all the others, is located off toward the end of one of the hallways. It's a little quieter, a little further away from constant foot traffic. Any weapons he may have been carrying have been stripped off of him, along with his clothing and any other belongings. All he has now is the prison jumpsuit that he's been fitted with, and shackles on his wrists and ankles.

The clock is ticking. Only a few hours left, and he'll be dead if he can't get out, first.  

[Kore124]

"Did you hear? He went crazy an killed two of our guys with a wrench"

"A wrench. Are you kidding. Half a dozen ended up in the hospital. No way he used a wrench"

The guards were talking about him. The first one was right though. It had indeed been a wrench. When Alex closed his eyes he could still see it. The first one he had killed on his rampage. He had been alone. A victim of fate. It was t his fault he had picked the wrong job. Picked the wrong day to walk by the garage. Back home there was probably a family in mourning for the son they had lost. Alex would be the big scary villain. The one who had sent someone's son home with his skull caved in and half a face missing.

The first one had been alone. But his screams had attracted his friends. Alex had charged in head first. Nothing but a wrench and a piece of a car door as a shield. Now another had died. He had been beaten bloody. His eyes were black, nose broken, blood covered the front of his jumpsuit. It was mostly his anyways. The prisons didn't spend much time washing out the clothes between prisoners. He had resigned himself to his fate at this point. Tomorrow he would be hung in the square for the entire city to watch. There was nothing he could do at this point except close his eyes and wait.

"I was there. I helped catch the b*****d. He was swinging that thing like a barbarian from the pictures. Downright terrifying"

"You were there. Right. You must have been one of those to take a few knocks on the head while you were at it if you think he did that with a wrench"  

[Omniscient Muse]

The back-and-forth banter of the guards was left to go on for a while in peace. It was boring around the prison when nobody new was being dropped in, really. Nothing better to do than gossip and argue over whether the newest criminal had the most gruesome crime or not.

"Really, you're full of it. You think I'm gonna fall for that, you must think I was born yesterday."

"You never saw an angry worker with a hammer then, man. Never know what those lunatics can...do...?"

He trailed off, confused, as a woman walked down the hall toward them. She was an unfamiliar face, a short little thing with brown hair and high heels. Dressed real nicely, too--most folks wouldn't bother wearing anything better than junk to a trash heap like the prisons. But there she was, in a white minidress with a black jacket over it, and a gun in a holster at her hip, big enough to make any man think twice about making any lewd comments on her short dress.

"Oh, don't let me interrupt you, boys," she said to the guards. She was scanning over the nearby cells, but many of them were empty. One of the guards was dumbstruck at the sight of her, somehow having gotten in to the prison.

The other one piped up, "Ma'am, gonna need to see authorization. How'd you get back here?"

She sighed and pulled back her jacket to show a badge on the dress underneath. Tarrow Jackdaw, and she was government personnel; those were rarely seen around in public these days. It just wasn't safe being associated with anything governmental. But her badge shut the guards right up.

"You...need something back here Sir?" The first guard knew better how to address a government employee.

She laughed coldly and said, "I'm looking for new test subjects. I don't suppose either of you might know where I could find some disposable people, would you?"  

[Kore124]

Alexander was propped against concrete wall. Jail wasn't like they showed in the pictures. No cot, no toilet. No little window to see the outside world. It was dark and damp. The toilet was a hole in the floor who others before him had managed to miss. This was a temporary cell, Designed for those who would be there for a few days waiting for death. Designed for prisoners like him.

A woman's voice echoes down the hallway. Not what he expected to hear in this hellhole. Alexander's eyes barely flutter though. He hadn't been fed since his arrival. The open cut across his cheek was still oozing blood in places and had swollen up. Even opening his eyes hurt. He didn't think he could talk due to his dry cracked throat.

The woman's voice is unclear from this distance. Her words carry no meaning to him. But she has to be here for a reason. Was this to be his executor? Or worse? The phrase "test subjects" was clear. So that's what she was here for. He forced himself to stand, regardless of the pain. He wasn't going out like that. He was going out on his feet.  

[Omniscient Muse]

Tarrow continues talking to the guards, indistinct chatter drifting down, and the phrase "basically, just cheaper than real crash test dummies" is followed by a hollow laugh. She's led down by Alexander's cell, still chattering amicably away with the guards. Standing behind her, tall and dressed a lot less nicely, is an unfamiliar man who hasn't said a single word to signal his presence. His face is mostly obscured by a bulky pair of goggles, and he's got a number of bandages on him, but the way he holds himself, he looks like he could probably snap somebody's neck if he wanted to.

One of the guards walks over to Alex's cell and gestures at him. "We got this one in last night. Killed some folks, he's gonna be executed. Don't gotta worry about a lotta paperwork with the death row ones, they got no rights anymore."

Tarrow laughs, "Honestly. Does anybody here have any rights?"

The guards say nothing in response to that. She watches Alex carefully for a few moments. "Is he still violent?" she asks the guards, not even looking at Alex as a human being.

"I don't know, Sir."  

[Kore124]

Alexander pushed off the wall. He barely had enough energy to stand let enough lunge. He could barely see due to the swelling around his eyes from the beating. He lost his balance during his lunge and instead hit the floor. He ended up sprawled across the floor.

He lay there a second on the cold concrete. He forced himself to rise again. Did he have some fight in him? It was a fight to stand. It was a fight to breathe. It was a fight to be able to even move right now. Yeah. He had some fight in him. He fell against the bars between him and his jailers. He held on, forcing himself to stand.

"Just kill me here why don't you." His hair was matted, blood covered his face
And shirt. He had a gleam in his eye though. One of anger and sadness. One that proved he wasn't yet dead. "Go ahead. Or are you worried I'll kill another two men before you get me." His voice cracked but didn't disappear.  

[Omniscient Muse]

"Mm. Yes, he'll do," Tarrow said to the guards. "Restrain him."

They exchanged a glance with each other, attempting to communicate the plan of action, and while they were debating who was going to go in first, Tarrow grew impatient. "I said restrain him."

The guards opened the door to the cell, then, and one of them made a grab for Alexander while the other pulled out a tazer, should it become necessary. In this time, Tarrow had already produced a collar--it looked so much like a dog collar--and was waiting for Alexander to be held down so that it could be placed around his neck. It may very well have been a shock collar, judging by the look of it.

Her companion stood back, silent, and it was barely visible through his goggles, but his eyes were clamped shut. He wasn't watching any of this.  

[Kore124]

Alexander made a two handed swing at his jailers. It was weak though. A punch landed across his jaw sending shocks of pain throughout his entire body. Or was that the taser? He vision blurred and his muscles tensed as he fell to the ground with a meaty thud. He was half conscious when the collar was placed around his neck. He felt himself lifted from the floor by his shoulders. His vision faded in and out. White to blurry colors. Then white again. Those around him were speaking but their words meant nothing. He didn't care enough to try as figure it out. He then opened his eyes again. All he could see was the woman's face. Then the world went white again.

He was weightless. Had he died? Was this the afterlife? A figure appeared before him. She seemed to shimmer an float around him. "It will all be alright Alex" the figure said as she slowly drifted away. It was Jesse. Or was it the woman who had taken him? They looked the same. He couldn't tell them apart. The figure seemed to be both of them, yet neither. Still he tried to run after them.

"Jesse wait. Don't leave me"

He tried to chase but his legs were suddenly heavy. As if bolted to the ground. "Don't go. Please don't leave me alone" He tried to reach for her, watching the figure get further away. His arms also seemed to weigh him down. He was tired of fighting. He didn't have he energy to keep it up. The figure disappeared in the distance. Everything around him was white again.

Alex's eyes flew open. Where was he? How long had he been unconscious? The questions were driven out of his head by a sudden headache that caused his vision to blur and swirl. A wave a nausea swept over him. He leaned over the side of the bed and threw up on the floor. When he sat up the headache was relieved. There was just the taste of bile in his throat.

He had a moment to look around. He wasn't in jail. He wasn't even chained up or handcuffed. Where was he? Did they figure he would be too weak to fight his way out. Not even worry about his strength. An IV drip was stuck into his arm. He snatched it out. The needle was small but it could work as a makeshift weapon. Now to escape.  

[Omniscient Muse]

The room wasn't much of a proper looking government facility though, was it? He'd been laid in a medical cot, sure, and he'd been hooked up to an IV, but the room was hardly a sterile hospital room. There was junk on the floor, so much junk. Unfinished inventions, maybe, or broken bits of machinery, like he'd almost been shoved into a storage room rather than anything else. The walls were dark and dirty, the floor, doubly so.

When he pulled his IV out, a man tucked into the corner of the room cleared his throat to catch Alex's attention. "Panicky, aren't we? Tarrow did say you blacked out before she had the chance to explain anything."

He didn't look much like any proper government official, either. His hair, bright red, was messy and full of knots, and he was wearing casual clothes, and dirty ones at that. The black-and-white theme of his outfit really didn't hold very well when it was filthy. And he wasn't calling for somebody to restrain Alex; he was appealing to Alex to calm down on his own.

"You aren't where you think you are, kid. You're with friends."

Matthew knew, of course, the sort of risk he was taking in sitting alone in a room to wait for a newcomer to wake up. If he'd kept somebody stronger with him, he'd have felt safer, but that wasn't what it was supposed to be about, bringing in new members. It was about making them understand and feel safe, before anything.  

[Kore124]

"All I know is that I was supposed to be either a test subject or dead." Alex's voice cracked and felt like sandpaper when he spoke. The fight that had been in his eyes returned though. He had a hard look on his face. He wouldn't attack this guy yet. Though they surely weren't alone in this building. Alex glanced around. This certainly wasn't a government hospital. Thankfully not a jail either as far as he knew.

"Water." He said. He couldn't communicate if his voice was this patchy. He saw a canteen at his bedside and picked it up, drinking quickly. He hadn't known water to taste so good ever. He wiped his mouth with his right arm. Clutching syringe in his left. "What do you want from me?" He asked now that speaking was easier. "Where am I, and who are you people?" His question came out machine gun style. One after another with out time to be answered. He was trying to get everything he wanted to know out before he could be stopped.

He took a moment to glance over then in the room. He certainly wasn't a government official. Messy red hair and dirty clothes. Something about him was familiar though. Maybe they had passed each other on the street. Something was strange about the sun under his cheek though. It had some connection to a god of some kind, though that meant nothing to Alex.  

[Omniscient Muse]

He rose from his seat, strolling over closer by Alexander, though he wasn't stupid enough to get too close. He looked very, very breakable, certainly easy to overpower; it was clear he wasn't here to act as any kind of guard. He had no desire to yell across the room just to keep his distance, though.

"You aren't a test subject, and you aren't dying. Well, we all die someday, but that's waxing a bit philosophical for this debate isn't it?" He laughed a little; this guy definitely seemed at least a bit intoxicated. "My name is Matthew, I'm a uh, devotee, in some words. To a cause I hope you might want something to do with."

Here, he reached up to pull his goggles up so the swirl carved into his cheek was more obviously visible to Alexander, certainly a familiar enough symbol, was it something to do with the rebellion perhaps? With Matthew's eyes visible now, it was clear that he must have been blind; they were almost completely obscured by cataracts. He was either very trusting that Alexander wasn't going to try any stunts, or not very bright.

"Tarrow told me that the guards knocked you out. I figured it would be best you didn't wake alone and go on a rampage, thinking yourself locked into a government facility. We've had a number of reactions from individuals who've arrived here unconscious, Tarrow was certainly hoping to take you back conscious, but it doesn't always work that way. Not that I can blame you. If I thought I was going to be taken in for human testing, I would fight back with everything I had, not that I have very much, but I would try. It's reasonable. Admirable even. And, um..." he trailed off, realizing that he was talking too much. Matthew apparently liked to hear himself talk.

"Anyway. The way I see it, now, you have no reason not to join the rebellion."