I don't have to look far. In the center of the darkened chamber lies the machine - Robert House's eternal cradle. Suspended in a vertical glass pod, a pale, skeletal figure stares upward, surrounded by a lattice of medical tubing and high-tech preservation systems.
I let out a low breath and casually approach the console. The interface is old, but still functional - this world has a knack for preserving things. I tweak the controls, just enough to make the pod rotate, so the desiccated husk within faces me.
The movement stirs something in the system. A flicker of ancient life coming to the fore, leaving the world upstairs that he's so focused on, and then, a slow, rasping breath from within sounds out.
"Who are you?" The voice wheezes, distorted through the speaker system. Not synthetic, but barely human. "What technology allows you to teleport into my home?"
No doubt he is internally panicking, calling on his robots. But the elevator is not really large enough for anything to matter, and by the time anything comes, we will be done. One way or another.
I smile faintly, lifting a small glass bottle from my coat pocket. Something I acquired just two days previously through a portal to an Assassin's Creed universe. "I'm someone with an offer, Doctor House. One you're going to want to hear."
His eyes are sunken, barely visible through pale lids. But they move. Scan. Analyze. His brain is still sharp, behind the rot. "You're an intruder," He says, voice growing steadier with each breath. "But I have no defenses left to eject you before you act. Speak, stranger. I assume your presence has a purpose other than to infuriate me."
I tilt the bottle in my hand. The water inside glows faintly, pulsing with a faint unnatural clarity. "This," I say, "Is water from the Fountain of Youth."
I had of course filled more than one bottle, opening my portal at the bottom, to let all the goodies run out into my hands.
A pause. Then - he scoffs. "Pseudoscientific nonsense. A myth twisted through generations of rot and superstition. You've come to me with snake oil." He sounds honestly offended.
"Maybe," I reply easily, not all that bothered, it is hard to believe after all. "But you're also dying, Dr. House. This world is dying, or more frankly, already dead. And I come from a world that isn't. A world capable of pulling in resources from multiple worlds. You're a genius. Imagine what you could do with that."
Silence greets me.
His stare hardens, even as his body remains motionless, unable to move in this weak state. "You speak like a lunatic. But your presence here… your sudden intrusion… implies technology far beyond the scope of what I know. Let's postulate that your claim is real. What's the catch? There's always a catch. Nothing is more unlikely than a man without an ulterior motive. I'd sooner believe in the fountain of youth than such a man."
Fair, I think.
I stretch my wings, letting them flare slightly, but that alone could be a mutation. The light of my Restore Materia shines briefly, and I direct it forward - just enough to remove the smaller afflictions. The bedsores, the lesions, the pain that time has no longer numbed and that his system does not treat.
He gasps sharply. The monitoring equipment squeals in surprise at such a rapid change to his body.
"I'm not human anymore," I tell him. "I'm a devil now, a supernatural being. But my faction isn't built on that difference. It's built on the ideal of humanity, on change. On lifting up humanity. On forging a future without being prey to the monsters of the supernatural, or the monsters humanity creates on their own…"
The silence that follows is long.
Then he speaks again. "You came here offering me salvation. Life. A future. You speak of devils and other worlds like a child high on chems. But… if even a fraction of what you claim is true…"
He trails off. And then - cold calculation flickers behind his eyes, as he really thinks it through.
Not fully believing me, I think, but calculating the odds.
"This world is dead," I say, voice quiet, reminding myself of what I read of him in the files. "You dreamed of the stars. You dreamed of rising above all of this. You still can."
He stares at the glowing bottle. His voice, when it comes, is quiet. "I am still almost thirty percent certain my life support has failed and this is all a fever dream. But… if I am dreaming… or if I'm not and this is happening… I may as well see it through."
I step forward.
I reach out, tip the bottle just enough to pour the glowing water past his lips. He doesn't flinch, just stares at me hard, not a single emotion in those eyes.
The water flows past his lips, and for a moment - nothing.
Then I feel it as his life force practically explodes.
Not magic, exactly. But a kind of reordering. A shifting resonance in the air around his body. The veins on his neck darken, then lighten. His emaciated limbs twitch. Bone cracks, not from breaking apart - but from realigning, returning to full strength.
His skin begins to knit. Sagging folds draw tight. Liver spots vanish like ink dissolving in water. The pale, frayed ghost of a man becomes - someone else. Not instantly. Not pleasantly. But undeniably, it works.
Also proving to me this works, before I offer it to someone I care about.
Although long term effects will still need to be tested.
Hair blackens, from pure white.
His spine straightens, and muscles begin knitting themselves back together to that of a young man.
Not to perfection - he still looks half-dead from being comatose for so long, but he looks young. In his twenties again.
The voice that speaks a moment later is different. Still him. But now sharper, with less death rattle in the undertone.
"…Extraordinary." He murmurs, blinking rapidly, moving fingers that hadn't even twitched in decades. "The neurological clarity alone is staggering. My synapses are firing faster than they did when I remember being twenty-three."
I have no idea how he pinpointed his age from just looking at his hands and skin. I'm not even going to ask. Geniuses can be a pain to converse with.
I watch as he sits up fully, disengaging from the cradle, still tethered to a few lingering tubes. He yanks them free with little ceremony. Blood beads, but it clots instantly.
He slides off the pod. Wobbles. Then finds his footing, legs shaking beneath him. "You weren't lying," He says, voice hushed now with something close to reverence.
I let my wings slip back out of view. "Guess I wasn't." I agree with a smirk.
He stares at his hands. "How many years… wasted... because I feared that this world couldn't be saved. That I had to outlive it to fix it. The things I could have achieved without idiocy always finding a way…"
"You still can achieve all of that," I say. "But not here. That's why I'm offering you a way out."
Also getting myself someone who can give me a lot of benefits. My portals aren't exactly big enough to be bringing through power plants, but Robert House can just build a fusion reactor Fallout style on Gaia.
I don't believe for a second he wouldn't know how.
He turns, brows furrowed. "You said you come from a world - one that connects to many others. Parallel universes?"
"Something like that," I nod. "I've got access. Portals. Whole worlds untouched by nuclear fire or tribal idiocy like here. Some with resources you haven't even dreamed of. Others with problems you'd love to solve."
"You're building a coalition," He murmurs. "A civilization of handpicked minds, across worlds."
"You could call it that."
Of course he immediately figures it out too.
"And you want me for what? Robotics? Computer systems?"
"Fusion reactors. Safe, reliable, and scalable. This world figured it out. I need it. And you're the best one available who understands every inch of the system. If I'm going to uplift Gaia, I need a better energy backbone then the horrible self defeating way they have. That said, I won't say no to robotics or computation improvements either…"
Fallout might not be way ahead of some worlds, but in durability? They're so far ahead of most worlds it isn't funny.
He's silent again, but I see it. The gleam. The sharp edge of a mind that's been dulled by centuries of rot finally tasting oxygen again.
"…Yes. Yes, I can do that. I can modernize the design, optimize containment. Reduce size, increase yield -"
He cuts himself off suddenly, staring at me with unsettling intensity. "How soon do we leave?"
"A day or two," I say, already turning to go. "I've got some other people I want to talk to while I'm here. When I come back, I'll open the portal again and take you through."
He blinks, then nods quickly. "I'll gather what I need." He mutters, mind already somewhere else.
"Take what you can," I say. "I'll worry about transporting it."
I disappear in a teleportation circle.
I don't expect my next meeting to go nearly as well.
The Institute doesn't exactly roll out a welcome mat when I arrive.
White walls. Bright lights. Clinical stillness. The kind of place that thinks perfection lies in full sterility, and that life should be dissected until all its inconvenient irregularities are solved away.
Not my kind of place, but they could be useful. As long as I prevent them from actually making use of sentient synths as slaves.
That…
I will put a stop to.
A Robot workforce isn't an issue. Sentient, fully sapient robots indistinguishable from people? Yeah, no, use the dumb robots, not people for your slave work.
I appear dead center in one of their primary conference rooms. Portaling in mid-discussion, mid-debate, mid-sip of shitty tea.
The effect is instant.
Startled gasps. Chairs screeching backward. One guy spills a data pad. Two synth guards whirl and raise their weapons immediately.
They open fire, as one does when an intruder appears.
Bad move for them though.
I swat both blasts out of the air like gnats. One hits the ceiling. The other fizzles out. I flick a hand, physically throwing two of my materia orbs, and knock both guards into opposite corners, severely dented. Not dead. Not yet. Just disabled.
In case they have the kind of synths that are people yet at this point in the timeline.
I calmly stroll over and pick up my orbs and slot them back in, smiling pleasantly at the directorate that rules the Institute.
I let a beat pass, as they debate between running or trying something else, then raise my hand again - this time activating my Time Materia.
Time slows.
Enough that each breath feels like dragging molasses for them. Each heartbeat a thud echoing across silence.
They all feel it. Realize my abilities are not something they've seen.
This shock and awe is the only thing that can get people like this to stop and listen past their preconceptions.
I look straight at Shaun. Director Father. (Cringe name) Grown from kidnapped stock, the whole plotline for this game, apparently. A man clinging to legacy and control in equal measure. Even now, despite his pale face and tense jaw, he doesn't panic. Just watches me, with curious eyes.
Good. Makes things easier for me if he can rein in the others.
"Don't waste time attacking me," I say, my voice cutting through to them as time resumes. "You'll lose. Every time. Instead… ask yourself -"
I lean forward, smiling thinly, wings flaring out.
" -what could a being like me offer you?"
A day later, I drop House off with Cissnei. He's wearing a suit two sizes too big for him, grinning like a shark. Already dictating plans and notes to the first assistant he sees - someone I'm pretty sure was a janitor, until House simply grabbed him and made him start taking notes. He'll fit in fine.
Then the next day, I portal back to the Institute - one month into their timeline.
A deal has been struck. A hundred of their brightest choose to relocate to Gaia - bringing data, tools, techniques, Synths. Everything I want for my labs and R&D branches. The rest? Including Shaun himself? They want a new Earth. A live one. The chance to do it right. Start over. Control the variables.
I give it to them.
On my terms.
I set rules. Hard rules. No AI tyranny over the locals. No human experimentation. No enslavement. They will let synths who test as fully sentient and sapient be free. They break those, I take their heads. They agree without hesitation, probably not realizing how easily I can check up on their future and see if they obeyed.
I watch the first synths set up the framework for their new home on a medieval Earth. I watch Shaun look up at a sky that's never known nuclear radiation. I watch him blink against real sunlight not hidden behind acid raining clouds.
"Don't waste it," I tell him.
He nods slowly. "We won't."
Time will tell.
But for now?
Mission accomplished.
I have a date with Tifa scheduled, and despite my ability to arrive precisely when I want to, I'm still going to stop working on more after this last recruit, so I can mentally prepare.
I don't want to oversaturate my science division. Too many cooks at the same time will spoil the kitchen, as they fight for resources.
The air is thick in this place. Still. Old. Not stale in the usual sense - there's no rot, no dust, no decay. It's more like time itself forgot how to move here.
The chamber is deep underground, carved smooth like a place meant to be preserved forever. Cold blue light runs through grooves in the walls like veins under pale skin, illuminating the room just enough to see her.
Spoiler: Promestein
Promestein. An angel of knowledge, an admirer of humanity's tenacity and thirst for constant improvement.
She sits inside the isolated cell, alone, as she has been for centuries.
Her reddish almost dark pink hair spills down her back, her once-pristine robes now faded with age and isolation, her shimmering wings limply settled down her back. She doesn't look up immediately. Just stares at the far wall, eyes distant.
I step forward, my shoes tapping faintly on the smooth floor as I purposely make sure she hears me.
With my arrival undetectable by any means, I'll be able to speak with her, and whatever the result. Wait for my reserves to fill, and leave without any issue.
"It's been a while since you had company, huh?" I say casually, stopping just a few paces from the edge of her barrier.
She blinks, slowly, then looks at me. Really looks. Her eyes - sharp, old - run over me with the precision of a scalpel. She's analyzing already. That brilliant mind is still moving under all the years of stillness.
"...You're not from here," She says, voice soft. Hoarse. Not weak. Her isolation hasn't broken her. "You don't belong to this world."
I admit, I feel a slight kinship with her. The woman was doomed to centuries of isolation, simply for giving humanity fire. Then broken out by evil, sinking into more evil herself stuck beneath it, no longer caring after her long imprisonment.
"Not even a little." I grin faintly, spreading my hands. "Name's Levi. Devil, sorry to say. Traveler, mostly. Someone who decided a while ago that he was tired of watching humans get kicked around by things that think 'supernatural' means 'superior'."
No need to tell her it is a little more personal than that. My revenge can have more than one reason for its existence after all.
And humanity does get a raw real back where I came from.
Her brow lifts just slightly. "A devil. You're surprisingly… open about it." She says, not judging, simply making a statement.
"No point hiding it. You'd figure it out eventually, and I don't like playing games with the truth in situations like this." I tap a knuckle on the edge of the barrier, feeling the resistance hum back at me. "I'm not here to lie, or to sell you anything. Just here with an offer."
She leans forward, faint interest showing in the tilt of her head. "And what could a devil possibly want from a prisoner long forgotten by the world?"
I grin wider, toothily. "I want a scientist. One who believed in humanity from the beginning. One who gave them fire and knowledge and got locked in a box for daring to think mortals could rise higher. I want you, your mind, working, discovering, not being wasted in a box!"
She stiffens, just a little. The tiniest breath caught in her throat.
"An angel of knowledge," I say, softer. "That's the story, right? I know you're not broken. That you still yearn for knowledge, to break past new horizons. You believed in humans. You still do, don't you?"
There's a pause. Long. Heavy. Her gaze lowers for a second - pain, maybe something else, anger…? Then she lifts her chin.
"Yes," She says simply.
I nod. "Then come with me. I've built something. A faction. A world for us. Humans who fight back, and those who believe in them. Who invent. Who explore. We've got tech from other worlds to tinker with, and it's only just beginning. You'd fit right in. Or better yet - you'd lead."
Jinn doesn't strike me as the kind of personality who'd enjoy being in charge.
And while House might enjoy such a thing, he couldn't compete with an Angel of knowledge.
She stares at me for a long, unreadable moment.
"There are strings," I admit, continuing my pitch, somewhat unnerved by her continued silence. "I'm not looking for slaves though. I want allies. People who think big. People who give a damn about progress. The supernatural likes to toy with mortals. I like putting power back into their hands. You'd help me do that. Uplift them. Protect them."
"And what would you demand of me? My body. My soul?" She said dispassionately, not really sounding like she'd turn down either of them.
I shrug, a little thrown. "Nothing beyond what you're already built for as a scientist. Help us. Teach us. Experiment, build, question. Be the mad genius you were always meant to be. And in return, you get freedom. Resources. And a whole new humanity to inspire."
Her eyes grow a little brighter at that. A flicker of something old and buried rising back to the surface. Hope. Curiosity. Hunger.
"I would need a lab."
"You'd get the best one."
"I'd need staff. Equipment, resources."
"All of it."
She stands slowly. Unfurling her wings. "You're not lying." She states, more than asks.
"You gave humanity their first spark in this world. Time to give them a second elsewhere."
Promestein smirks, even if it doesn't reach her eyes, "You offered much, for leaving this cell. I would have accepted anything." She admits.
"I feel I haven't offered enough." I disagree, because getting an angelic genius? Priceless.
"I want to see what humanity has become," She says, some life in her eyes for a brief moment.
We spent the next day just talking about Gaia, about my people.
Then we leave. Just like that.
Author's Note:
So for now, recruitment outside the peerage is kind of done for a bit. Bit samesy unfortunately with two recruitment speeches in one chapter. Oh well.
The next chapter or two will be on Gaia, spending time with his people, and spending some time on the new folks.
And of course the date with Tifa. After which it's Skyrim.
I arrive at WRO headquarters early in the morning, not for a scheduled visit, just…
I need something to do.
I'm here because I'm nervous as hell about tonight.
My first real date with Tifa.
Even if I will forever insist that this will be our second date, to her face.
I have it all planned out, of course. But it does nothing for the worry I have that she'll think I'm being too cheesy in parts, or read her all wrong for other parts.
Date planning hasn't exactly been a priority for me for… quite a long time.
So I need a distraction.
Tucked under my arm is a thick tome - more of a bible of sorts - that I've been piecing together between portal runs and resource grabs. Pages of notes, diagrams, definitions, red lines, scribbled warnings and revised moral boundaries.
A massive document drawn from my own understanding, but also from information gained from the traumatized janitors who mopped up after Hojo's department, and from the more clinical accounts in SOLDIER and Turk files - for the test subjects who needed a heavier hand to reign in... A guide. A manual for the mad, to restrain them.
I call it: The Science Bible: Thou Shalt Not Hojo.
Kidding aside, it's about as comprehensive of a guide I could think of - to ensure the kind of issues someone like Promestein could have, are lessened.
I'm not fool enough to believe it will eradicate all crossing of lines. But it will hopefully help limit things to minor monstrosities.
I walk through the doors, and standing there in the lobby like she's walked off the cover of Scandalous Scientific Babes Monthly, is Jinn. (Yes, it's a real magazine on Gaia. I blame Shinra.)
She's wearing a lab coat.
And absolutely nothing else.
Somehow having figured out I'd arrive at the WRO building, despite me doing so on a complete whim.
Her smile blooms the second she sees me, soft lips curling into something wicked and warm, her lab coat opening up even more as she floats forward.
My eyes stray for maybe two seconds. Or fifteen. Time is tricky like that.
Who can blame me for looking, really?
Personally, I believe it's entirely Aerith and Tifa's fault for reawakening my libido, and that's the story I'm sticking with.
"Oh my," Jinn purrs, catching me looking. "That look says everything, Levi. Are you finally here to partake in some experimenting?" She fans her face, looking all shy and demure in a way I know is entirely faked.
"Jinn," I say, voice steady, as I completely ignore what she says. "How are you settling in? Getting along with the newcomers?"
While I put Promestein in charge of the division, both Jinn and House are department heads of their own departments within, as their specialties are very different.
Jinn however, due to her more… settled personality, was also given the task to be somewhat of an assistant director to Promestein, and a sounding board for the angel.
Another way to hopefully ensure things don't get out of hand.
She drifts forward as we walk and talk, silky dark blue hair spilling around her like a slow-moving stormcloud. I walk next to her as she floats, a curious pair to anyone watching. Which, judging by the stares from the staff, is everyone in this building that we pass by.
Again, who can blame them?
"Oh, just wonderfully," She coos, to my question. "Promestein is such a delicious little enigma. So many naughty ideas bubbling in that brain of hers. I dare say we're becoming quite the pair. She even probed me in all the fun ways to see how I tick, you know?"
She hides quite the lewd expression behind a hand, as she adds in a whisper, "I recorded it all, for science, you know… I sent it to your email…"
I grunt noncommittally.
I'm not touching that.
… I'll save the file just in case though.
She hums, seemingly amused at my non-reply, then frowns faintly, wrinkling her cute little blue nose. "That House fellow, though? Dreadfully dull. All work, no play. He needs a good bit of fun to liven up that robotic way of thinking."
"I'm sure you'll all balance each other out," I reply dryly. "Though I was mostly hoping you'd help keep them on the moral path."
I wasn't overly worried about House. He'd see the possibilities of a multiversal faction, and avoid stepping over lines that would ruin things for him.
Promestein on the other hand…
Very useful, but also very haphazard on things like ethics or morals.
As in she believes neither has anything to do with science.
Jinn lets out a theatrical gasp, one hand to her ample chest, drawing my eyes again. "Me? Moral?" She laughs, rich and throaty. "Darling Levi, what gave you that idea? I watched all of Remnant for centuries. Trust me - depravity always wins the popularity contest."
We step into the elevator and I hit the button for Floor 60, the starting floor for the science division. She leans against the wall of the elevator, arms folded beneath her chest in a way that's both casual and calculated to draw attention.
"You did personally side with the good guys, as I recall," I remind her. Even if she had to answer questions from anyone that asked, so she assisted Cinder Fall either way in the end.
Although this Jinn isn't exactly as I remembered, so who knows?
Jinn shrugs with a slow, elegant roll of her shoulders. "They were less boring, yes. And I also had rules back then, dear. I was limited. Here?" She twirls, the coat fluttering up just enough to make sure I can't miss the sight of her sex. "Here I'm finally free from those restrictions. So I can do what I like. With who I like…"
She winks demonstratively at me. I ignore it.
Mostly.
Blue juicy petals and nipples do something to a man, it's the exotic look of it. I can't help it.
I also can't really be mad at her constant flirting. She was pretty much in isolation for centuries. If she wants to play around, I wont judge her for it.
I heft the book, drawing attention to it, and moving this conversation away from the flirty undertones, as I'm specifically here today to not think of women. "Then this -" I tap the cover, " -is for you, too. A few light bedtime stories about why cutting open orphans for test samples is a bad thing."
She moans softly. "Mmm. Denial play. That's fun, too." She tells me, an excited spark in her eyes.
I pretend not to hear. Giving up on having a normal conversation for now.
Everyone I 'hire' is crazy.
Is it me?
The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal the sterile confines of the first science floor. Mostly offices and storage, with some minor mechanical labs.
This is where most of the paperwork gets done. So nothing too important, as we move past harried workers. I recognize the janitor House had grabbed last time, now wearing a lab coat, looking completely lost as he peers at a large stack of forms.
I don't envy him for that promotion. Although I wonder what House saw in him, because he didn't strike me as impulsive.
"Did you have a chance to review Ruby's designs?" I ask Jinn, slipping into business mode, as we ascend into the actual lab spaces on the 61st floor and above.
She sobers slightly, though her irreverent smile remains. "Yes. Lovely work. Quite doable with our current dust reserves. I've sent copies to House and Promestein as well. They can perhaps assist in modifications for dustless operation. More practical off world really."
She sounds excited about the collaboration. Which is good. Those two need socialization.
I know she isn't a pure scientist like the other two, but she has the knowledge and the sheer desire to learn, so I'm hoping she'll do well and help drag the other two into something like a friendship.
"Excellent," I mutter, having not thought of a way to not have to rely only on Dust. "I want Red and Tifa geared up before our next world-hop, ideally."
She nods, her flirtatious edge momentarily dulled by professionalism. But it's never gone completely as she floats close to me.
I imagine only a few months ago, I would have not been able to stand this woman being so close.
So, progress.
"Bring me to Promestein's lab," I say finally. "I want to hand this off in person. Make sure she understands how things work around here. We've spoken about it before, but a written guideline to add to it won't hurt."
Jinn's grin returns gleefully. "Oh, ~delightful. She did say she needed fresh samples… I've been dying to ~watch~ as you… deliver."
My eyebrow twitches. That doesn't sound good.
"Jinn," I warn, "There better not have been any unsanctioned sampling…"
Reeve and everyone below him, are already watching the science division with some distaste. I need it to not look like Hojo v2.
She leans close, lips inches from my ear. "You should be more specific next time on what's sanctioned and what is not, darling. Or some very hands-on science might happen… but don't worry. It was ~fun for all involved."
I sigh, already feeling like I'll be regretting the next ten minutes.
But I follow her anyway.
Because Promestein needs this damn bible. And I need to check up on her.
The moment I step through the doors to Promestein's lab, I know I won't particularly like what I'm about to step into.
I immediately spot an examination table. An occupied examination table.
Cloud strapped to it. What the fuck are you doing here? I think, feeling an instant headache set in.
His expression is priceless - pure horror and embarrassment, mingled with the strange relief of seeing me, like I'm both savior and executioner. He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.
"Cloud… Why would you even…" I say slowly, not finishing my query on what in Sheogorath's name even convinced him to go near the science division.
That he should have a full aversion from.
My eyes narrow as I take in the restraints, the sweat on his brow, the mild tremble in his limbs, the paleness and weakness, like he's been under a lot of stress. Then I pivot, following the soft clacking of keys behind a nearby console.
Promestein doesn't even look up at first, just keeps typing, focused and clinical. When she finally turns, her eyes light up.
"Levi," She says, emotionless in her delivery, but clearly pleased, even if it's hard to catch. "Good timing. I can't progress with the devil study without proper samples. I was hoping you'd arrive soon."
Then she reaches into her lab coat and pulls out…
"What the actual hell is that?" I bark, taking an instinctive step back. Catching Cloud looking both ill and somewhat longing out of the corner of my eyes.
The thing in her hand is fleshy, vaguely tubular, squirming and twitching with a series of disgusting little tendrils coming out of it. It pulses slightly, like it's breathing heavily. I don't want to know how it works.
This is why I need to watch this woman...
Promestein looks down at it as if she's confused by my visceral reaction. "It's the most efficient way to extract a sample," She explains, like it's perfectly normal. She casually switches it to her other hand - and the damn thing engulfs her arm to the elbow with a wet, enthusiastic slurp, the suction on the thing absolutely insane.
Cloud lets out a whimper. My headache grows.
Jinn cackles beside me, clapping her hands joyfully. "Oh, she's using that one. It's my favorite. It was so much fun seeing him ~squirm."
I turn slowly back to Cloud, who's watching this like a man on death row witnessing his own execution slowly approaching.
He no doubt expects to be mercilessly bullied forever for this.
"...You okay?" I ask, having no idea how he ended up between Jinn and Promestein, but feeling kind of… guilty about it.
"I thought it was only going to be a blood draw," He whispers, voice a little sheepish.
Promestein chimes in confidently. "He signed the consent form, just like you wanted." A stubborn little pout to her lips and a defiant tilt of her chin, as she makes it clear she's following the rules.
Or at least the letter of them.
I shift my gaze to her. "I told you about consent. Willing, informed consent." I say slowly, my eyes finding the… thing. And seriously doubting Cloud signed up for that.