Why yes it's another Nodin post :D
Pretend this happened kinda before the big hiatus lol (after all, I was suppose to submit Can of Worms part 3 back in August;;;;)
Tried mentioning other characters since I didn't do that in my last post. Hopefully it all sounds right and okay. :)
Happy New years<3
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NODIN
The long and lethargic days have taken my sense of time. It seems like it's been weeks, maybe even months since we've all felt confident enough to leave the bunker. Akira had wandered off many times, probably to mourn over the ashes of her house. It surprised me to see that many of the members decided to keep some of the modifications to their bodies, such as Akira's and Karin's animal ears and Griffin's wings. To my dismay, I was unfamiliar with many of the other modifications done to the rest of the group since many of them had retreated to the solitude of their own rooms, still shaken by the truth and returning memories. Personally, the great reveal bothered me little. After all, it's in the past. What matters is what we do now and how we can prevent any more people from facing the same tragedy. Then again, unlike Violette, I cannot travel into other people's minds, searching for answers and understanding their feelings. I cannot comprehend how great the pain and sadness they must be experiencing. I can only hope they find some liberation and satisfaction from the surgeries Charlie and Christina are performing.
From what I could tell, Sebastian was most heavily worked on. They ridded him of his animalistic instincts and thirst for blood; it was incredibly relieving for me to see him as I once perceived him: cool, calm, collected; however, Karin looked especially grateful. I know she’d begun distancing herself from Sebastian, showing subtle hints of her suppressed terror and distrust. Now their relationship is recovering, and both are reaching an emotional equilibrium. Karin had always been a motherly type, always supportive and sympathetic. Regaining that soothing personality after these stressful months has improved the mood of everyone else, who had been suffering from misery and contempt. After all, Karin was usually the one to open the doors of the mansion, to welcome each new member with open arms and a smile. I am sure everyone has soft spot for her, even the more intimidating members, whether they want to admit it or not.
Looking in the mirror, I admired my shorter hair. I requested it to be cut, despite Charlie's ability to remove the chip without shaving my head. I felt it would cause less trouble for him and Christina. They're working so hard to protect all of us; I want to make it as easy as I can for them. Being one of the first to get their chips out, since that was the only part of the operation that I needed, my hair had already grown out a little to match my dad's once short crew cut, and I am incredibly thankful for the new length. Before, my hair had grown out so long that it would tickle my eyes and nose, and Violette would often tease me and call me "Joe Jonas", whoever that is.
My dad, on the other hand, decided to keep his shaggy, scraggly look. He was never too concerned with his appearance. However, he did finally take a shower after many, many complaints. He could not help with the surgeries, but he assisted Mrs. Corners whenever he could. Sometimes he prepared and cleaned up after meals, though Colette usually insisted on doing the job instead. So, He spent most of his time fixing up any small imperfections throughout the bunker, whether it was fixing leaks in worn out pipes, adjusting doors to avoid drafts, repairing any weathered wires, replacing light bulbs, etc. I was surprised at the diversity if his skills. Dad said he tinkered around with a lot of things in his younger years and worked several handy-man jobs as he got older. The bunker was not in the best condition, seeing that it had been set up years ago, so my dad was usually busy working, or making things better for the fun of it. His passion in these little jobs amazed me; I never saw this side of him whenever he stayed with me, probably because all I did back then was sleep.
I began my daily walk around the bunker, stopping to observe the members who were learning some basic combat skills from Dante, Rano, Ela, and Bellinda. Even the more introverted members tried helping out...in their own unique way. Vevila taught some…distraction skills. Her art with seduction always confused me. She tried it with me once by whispering to me, but I couldn’t help but focus on the slight smell of oranges in her breath that I wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying. She eventually gave up and hasn’t tried since. I wonder if she eats a lot of things with vitamin C. Maybe that is how her skin got so nice, with the exception of her hands. Vevila’s attempt at social interaction wasn’t the only one that surprised me. Kaki taught the cleanest, quickest ways to kill people, and the most vulnerable places in the human body. Some of the younger members were obviously uncomfortable with it, but considering our situation, I found Kaki's advice valuable. I would not wish those so innocent, such as Violette or Melina to commit such scarring act, but I know several members would not hesitate to brutally pulverize some XL scientists. With the chips taken out, several members have fully recollected their memories from our recent trip to XL. I was not familiar with everyone's experiences in the labs, but Violette had told me that a handful of our members were forced to fight each other. I assume that is where most of their combat skills came from. Though it saddens me to think we actually benefitted from our time in XL, there's no denying the fact that we have the ability protect ourselves thanks to them.
I continued with my stroll, wandering and exploring some of the empty hallways with my flashlight. We had to cut the power in some parts of the bunker to reduce energy use. We've been here for so long that the plentiful resources that were stocked are now almost gone. The chances my dad has to go out and buy enough for us are extremely rare. Not only that, but when he does go out, he can only buy a few things at a time. Buying in bulk would look too suspicious, and transporting it here would be even more troublesome. XL eyes are everywhere. Not only are they searching for us, but my dad is a target too. We can never be too careful. Out there, no one is saf--
I felt a sharp pain. I had walked into an opening door. Wait a minute, these hallways are supposed to be empty…
Shining my flashlight in front of me, I was startled by a ghastly pale face that looked as frightened as I probably looked.
He quickly covered his eyes, probably blinded by my light. I hastily turned it off realizing the light flooding from his room was enough for me to see him clearly. It was Cyrus.
I quickly whipped out my journal and wrote, "I'm sorry," on a page, and then poked him gently on the shoulder to show him my words.
"Oh no, I’m sorry I startled you. I didn't hurt you, did I?" His words were weak and still shaky. It saddened me to see him so frail. I now remember my mother's fascination with his work, his intellect, and pure enthusiasm. The stories she used to tell me of him after work showed nothing but respect and praise for him, but before me now I just saw a tired, hopeless soul. Everyone had shown such disdain and hatred towards him. More than anything, I was curious. I wanted to hear his ideas and learn like my mother had.
I snapped myself to reality, realizing I must look even creepier to Cyrus, but I realized he was observing me too.
"You're Hannah's subject, aren't you?"
I quickly nodded, and held out my hand to shake his. From what I comprehend, handshakes are a sign of respect and professionalism. Even though we are the same age, I saw Cyrus much more capable and gifted than me. He awkwardly shook my hand, and then there was a silence. Both of us were at a loss at conversation.
"You're the one with the breath?"
I nodded.
"How do you use it?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
I could tell by his eyes that he was deep in thought. How I wish Violette would tell me what he was thinking.
"The research she had was...premature. None of her research was in the right state to be used correctly on live humans." He scratched his head and awkwardly cleared his throat. "…but then again none of the research was used correctly..."
XL was composed of his concepts, his dreams, his intelligence. Cyrus has the integrity that the other scientists lacked; he had the capabilities to answer my questions and give me directions. His poor attempts at trying to talk to me gave a slim opening. I quickly wrote about my dilemma, this problematic breath, in my journal. I need to see if there's a way to control it.
"There's no way." He said blatantly. "Air molecules move too quickly and randomly. You can't control it without a container. That is a basic gas property."
My heart sank. I knew there was no way. Even the great Cyrus could not come up with anything. I'm useless. I'm useless after all. I'm luggage, a spare. I'm the extra button on a coat that no one uses. I'm the fifth horseshoe. I'm useless. Why can't I help? Why can I do nothing but be a burden--
"...unless..." I heard him mumble. "If Hannah can somehow change the concentration of your breath, make it denser maybe, it would slow it down and keep it from scattering everywhere. Not only that, but if she can filter out all the really dangerous and deadly diseases from your system, she could make it so your breath causes less harmful things, such as dizziness, headaches, or give them a really bad cough." He handed back my journal. "Making your power more destructive would end up hurting everyone around you. Not everyone needs to be able to provide brute strength in a battle. You need strategy, ways to catch your enemy off guard. That way you don't use up all of your strength and waste time. If you 're considering to go up against black coats, impairing their reaction time and coordination would be a great advantage."
He had a small sense of pride on his face, as if he was proud of himself for talking so much, but I could tell it exhausted him.
I was speechless. I didn't know to express my gratitude, my indebtedness to him.
All of mother's stories were true.
