#//i. may have. gotten a lil' carried away here <3 my bad oopsie (as always a reminder no need to match lengths if u wanna continue this!!)

[outofthiisworld]

. ✦ ݁ ˖ @viopolis classified secrets aka evil organization gossip !!!

[🧪] There was a scolding on this old doctor’s tongue to the other that he pestered so; something or another about that painfully piss-poor posture, but he swallowed it. Instead, he grins. A self-satisfied, shit-headed grin that pulled Doc’s laugh lines taut. After all: it wasn’t everyday that The Great Gero’s attention was pulled away from that mechanical carcass he tinkered so much on.

It’d been awhile since Doc felt this excited, too. The humdrum conundrum of usual check-ups for both crew and experiments to ignore alike left him nothing more than a cog of the machine (with his own flavor of … unfriendliness …)

“Check it out—” Doc whipped out a datapad, some clunky thing with a crack split down the glass, but it still got the job done. A file was brought up after a passcode was keyed in: security footage. “New headway on that nebulous thing ATLAS picked up, you know that plasmoid from some solar systems back?”

The video started normal enough, with the plasmoid nebula barely contained in its stasis chamber along with two researchers diligently monitoring something or another. Occasional distortions of the energy itself were normal in the view of a camera lens, something Doc mentioned as the video continued, but then— it flickered. Again, and again. Until another static of distortion.

In the blink of an eye, the room became hyper-charged under its discharged static shocks, and a frenzy of cosmic sparks ignited the nearby machinery. The researchers were worked up into a panicked frenzy for the off-screen exit, but one was not so lucky.

Dragged back by a nearly invisible force, the researcher had disintegrated into nothing, not even dust. Then, their decimated corpse that ceased to exist began to renew itself back from the blink of oblivion— until an explosion, and the camera feed cut off.

“Fucking insane, right? Damn thing is far too volatile— the destruction we knew about, but that? That’s got Ol’ Beak Boy worked up.” Father Necrosis. A common nickname, if you wanted to find yourself shot out of the airlock. “He slapped me to oversee it with him— wants to try and shove that thing into a body.”

Doc scoffed in almost disbelief, oh but he was excited. Finally, something else to pass the time (and less bandaging up newbie researchers who got too close to the containment cells).

“I mentioned it might be good to find a way to stabilize it properly— something mechanical, less hazardous that way … but, you know him: bastard is persistent on it being ‘pUrELy OrGaNiC.’”