capeandcowllogs | look at the way we go out walking together

look at the way we go out walking together

WHO: Dr. Mann (

pinecloned) and Dr. Kinney (

youareachild)
WHERE: Dr. Mann's shitty MAC apartment!
WHEN: Right after this post.
WARNINGS: CLONES BUSTING OUT OF ABDOMENS but there is no boning (god I hope not) and nobody dies.
SUMMARY: Basically, Dr. Mann is budding. Since she is not yeast and also has clone issues, this is fairly traumatic. Sarah comes to save the day!
FORMAT: god idefk, what happens happens

She trusted Dr. Kinney, to an extent; after all, the woman had offered her facilities when she'd arrived, and it was thanks to her that Allison knew for certain that she was clean. But this thing growing out of her--she refused to name it as a clone, the better not to admit the fact to herself--spoke to something that was far more personal than she was comfortable with sharing. How many months had it taken to get her to admit it to 355 and Yorick? Jesus, she hadn't really learned much from that period of badly-concealed self-loathing, had she? She hadn't grown emotionally in such a damn long time--

As the head burst forth from her abdomen, craning a slowly-emerging neck to observe its surroundings, the sudden rush of feeling made her abandon the soul-searching crap entirely, which was probably a good thing. It wasn't painful (well, obviously it hurt, but it was nothing compared to labor or some of the other things she'd gone through since then) so much as it was an utterly alien sensation. Whatever cells she had that enabled this were in overdrive right now; Allison could practically feel them duplicating, and worst of all, she could feel the head and arms moving as though they were just ordinary limbs. The unfocused eyes blinked and the partially formed tongue flopped lackadaisically in her mouth, and she was hyperactively aware of them, feeling all the disgust and fear of a much-younger, bespectacled child with a bee strolling down her shoulder. She assumed the brain was still forming itself, if this thing was meant to have any brain at all. It made negative scientific sense--but she was in a superhero's world now, and perhaps that meant the basic fucking laws of biology ceded in the face of reminding Allison of the worst mistake she'd ever made. And yet the display was near-cartoonish; she almost expected it to start talking to her, but speech would have to wait until it developed functioning lungs.

God, she hoped it wouldn't talk. Dr. Mann had already given up on keeping her shirt, simple as it was, in a normal condition; it was tucked behind her in a way she might be embarrassed over if she wasn't essentially giving birth to herself. There really wasn't any position that could make this less awkward, but she had stubbornly proceeded to try out every conceivable one (all that forever-ago pilates had its perks) precisely six times. At the moment, she was simply standing up, though the unexpected animate weight was already making that harder. She had exhausted all of those pathetic excuses for technology an hour or so ago; there was nothing to do but wait, sweat, and curse a blue streak under her breath.

Where in the fuck was Sarah Kinney?

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Theoretically, the best thing to do in this situation would be to have Dr. Mann come to her lab, so that she could run extensive tests. In practise, this was a lot more difficult to achieve; the woman was, for all intents and purposes, producing a duplicate of herself, as if her abdomen were a sorry excuse for a Petri dish. Sarah didn't personally know anyone who was capable of spontaneously teleporting people great distances, and even if she could get Dr. Mann to a car, there was always the risk of doing more harm than good throughout the course of the journey.

And then there was the chance that, if this was her power emerging, there wouldn't be much she could do in the way of help. It would be nothing more than a matter of riding it out.

Still, Sarah packed as much equipment as possible into the car. She'd dealt with some horrific things before, but didn't have much of an idea how to deal with this specific situation. Whatever she had gathered was mismatched, whatever she could get her hands on; honestly, much of it was nothing more than a collection of sedatives and powerful painkillers.

Not wanting to rush and leave something of vital importance behind, Sarah headed over to the MAC as quickly as she possibly could. Being back there reminded her of first arriving in the City, but she shook off the need to reminisce. Carrying as much as she possibly could in one trip, she'd grabbed what she expected would immediately be most useful, and headed up to Dr. Mann's apartment.

She knocked, once, out of habit, but then tried the handle. Chances were Dr. Mann would leave it unlocked, lest she couldn't get to the door herself due to the rapid—well, she'd stick to calling it a mutation, for now. Not met with any resistance from the door, Sarah stepped in into the apartment, and then abruptly froze.

Seeing the—thing in person added another dimension than video alone allowed. There was definitely more to it, now; it was emerging at an alarming rate (not that any speed would be unalarming, she supposed), and its features were becoming more and more defined.

Any regular person's mind would be screaming clone right about now, and Sarah was only grateful that it reminded her of the clones the younger Spider-Man had once described to her—created aged-up, retaining the original's memories— rather than anything she had personally had a hand in.

All things considered, her hesitance was nothing but brief. She was a professional, after all, there to lend assistance. Not to panic, or anything else equally as ridiculous. Putting down her things, she walked over to Dr. Mann.

“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” she said, and then continued to stare down at the growth. “Judging from what you told me over the network, it must have been emerging for at least two and a half hours now.”

Oh, thank god.

"It has," she confirmed, instantly matter-of-fact despite the slightly pained tone to her voice. "The process was much slower beforehand; if anything, posting accelerated it." And why the hell was that, she wondered? The most likely answer was the one she least wanted to hear--that she had been retarding the process herself, that she was the reason it hadn't just burst out of her and gone its merry way. But hell, if that really was why... if she wanted to stop looking like something Picasso would be grossed out by, she was going to have to birth this thing. And that just was not an option.

Without any real options, she loosed her hair and yanked it back again, pulling back it tighter than before. At least it hurt.

"All I was able to find out is over there" She gestured, broadly, in the direction of the coffee table, though it was really nothing either of them wouldn't have guessed in the first place. "So," she added ineffectively. "What's your--ehn--diagnosis?"

“That this, in some bizarre way, is your power surfacing,” Sarah said conclusively, realising that it wasn't the answer Dr. Mann wanted to hear, but knowing better than to attempt to sugar-coat it. Dr. Mann could have worked out that much out on her own, but having a second person confirm it might help her accept it.

More out of habit than as a precaution, Sarah opened her bag and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. Moving closer to Dr. Mann, Sarah was silent for a moment as she studied it, mentally taking notes and prematurely drawing conclusions, before realising that keeping quiet was probably doing very little to reassure Dr. Mann.

“The good news—for certain values of good, of course—is that it should be separated from you fairly soon, and that you do have some level of control over the situation. No doubt it's the reason that the process has seemingly sped itself up,” Sarah said, and then paused once more. “How much control do you have over it? More or less than before?”

Pressing her palm against the clone's hand, she asked, “How hard can you squeeze my hand?”

Well, this was sufficiently bizarre. When she had just been Ported in, Dr. Mann had felt that there was no way this place could be more ridiculous and disgusting than her own world so very often was--but, as always, her life continued to top itself. Logically, since the hands had been moving quite helpfully beforehand, they must be connected to the rest of her body's musculature--since she could also feel them, they would be incorporated into her nervous system. The real issue, of course, was what gripping Dr. Kinney's hand would require of her mentally. It would mean, for the first time, regarding it as a part of her body--not a failed clone, not a mutation moving on autopilot, but an extension of herself. That was something Allison did not want to do by any means.

But scientific curiosity, at least, demanded an answer to that hypothesis. Concentrating on her hand, she focused as hard as she could on the sensation of Dr. Kinney's palm, the rubber against its--her skin. Once Allison was reasonably confident that the limb had just as much capacity for sensation as the ones she'd been born with, she squeezed. A little harder than she had expected, actually, but she figured Dr. Kinney would get over it.

"The control level has actually been going down," she admitted, loosening her grip. "I can manipulate them more easily, as you can see, but when it comes to getting the fucking thing to stop coming out... I don't know if there's much of a choice."

Well. That answered that question, Sarah thought, withdrawing her hand. She hadn't expect much less, considering that the duplicate was still hard-wired into Dr. Mann's body, but the question still remained whether she'd have any control over it once it had departed from her. Of course, that was scientifically impossible, but a handful of things in this universe were.

They had to be prepared for anything, at any time.

“Better out than in,” Sarah murmured, and then fixed her attention back on the actual Dr. Mann. “I've heard plenty about mutants able to duplicate themselves, but it was nothing like this. It was simply a case of splitting in two. Almost like a projection, only tangible. Whereas this is—it's almost like you're birthing it. God.”

She paused, for a moment, and then decided to quickly move on to what she ought've asked in the first place.

“I'm sorry. Do you want anything for the discomfort?”

Allison paused for a good ten seconds, the agonized look on her face lessening slightly as she weighed the options. Did she, in all honesty, want anything for this pain? It felt almost like something she deserved--but god, that was such a stupid fucking notion, she reminded herself harshly. The last thing her body needed at the moment was for her to... to indulge in some ridiculous martyr complex.

"At this point," she muttered dryly, "I wouldn't say no to a fucking epidural."

It was becoming increasingly obvious that this thing was going to come out of her no matter what she personally wanted; there were approximately two and a third celebrated geneticists in this room right now, and at least two agreed on that fact. As she relaxed control, the thing developed faster and faster--she imagined the shoulders would soon be visible, rising from the flesh as though from water. It was like that Ringu movie she had seen once was being reenacted on her stomach, and the process only got more intense as it continued.

What would happen once the surfacing duplicate of herself was a separate being was utterly up in the air, but, with a sudden resignation, Allison pulled back the sleeve of her blouse. Clarity of pain had its merits, but at this point she just wanted it to end.

Sarah nodded, and then turned back to her bag. A shot of morphine should do the trick. She had plenty to spare, in the event that this duplicate was one of many; something that she didn't want to suggest quite yet, though the thought may well have crossed Dr. Mann's mind. Hopefully, once the drug was in her system, she'd relax, and the duplicate would free itself with greater ease.

“Morphine,” Sarah murmured as she took a hold of the back of Dr. Mann's arm, pushing the tip of the needle against the inside of her elbow.

Glancing down at the duplicate which now possessed shoulders, Sarah idly wondered if it, too, was in pain. Probably not as much as Dr. Mann was currently experiencing, but crawling out of someone's stomach had to be a slightly disturbing way to start the day.

“You're going to need to lay down,” Sarah said, withdrawing the empty syringe. It made sense (as much sense as was applicable to the current situation) to assume that the duplicate was only growing on the outside, and so it would soon become too much to support, standing as she was. Sarah gestured towards the sofa, hoping that would do. “Come on.”

The prick was nothing compared to what she had already gone through, and she accepted the injection quite placidly. It was, Allison had to admit, a bit of a relief not to be the only scientist in the room when something like this was going on.

Her legs were already starting to protest at the sudden burst of weight, she couldn't argue with that, but there was also the less than appealing prospect of the thing crushing her if she lay down. It wouldn't kill her--at least, not because of the weight--but it would sure as hell be uncomfortable. Reluctantly, she sat down on the couch, then lay down on her side. Hopefully, the duplicate's excess weight wouldn't cause her to topple over from that position as well.

Sarah followed Dr. Mann to the sofa, standing by at the ready. Honestly, there wasn't much she could do; the environment was hardly sterile, and no amount of effort would get it that way now, and it was evident enough that Dr. Mann wouldn't appreciate tests being ran on the duplicate while it was still emerging from her.

Making sure to remain close, but not encroach on her personal space, Sarah stared down at her, ready to support her if the weight of the duplicate became too much. She cringed a little as it continued to crawl out; she really, really didn't want to know what Dr. Mann had been dreaming about in order to trigger something like this.

She couldn't blame Dr. Kinney for cringing at the sight of this; Allison had been halfway to screaming bloody murder for the last several hours, although the morphine admittedly was helping take the edge off. Her facial expression, however, had very much ceased to matter to her, as her eyes were very much trained on the duplicate of herself coming straight from her fucking chest. She didn't want to encourage it, she didn't want to accelerate it, she still didn't even want to know it was there, but she knew she had to. Although denial was, occasionally, Allison Mann's forte, now was not the time for it (which, to be fair, had never stopped her before.) And although the paranoia was still there, eating at her, it was beginning to dull to a nibble as the pain lessened (just how much had she given her?)--it was probably the placebo effect in action, her body's excuse, but the calm was unmistakable. Something inside her felt that this was going to be alright.

"Given that this is going into my system too, it's rather obviously a placebo effect," said the clone, who had by this point pulled herself out to the waist, dryly. "The dosage should be much higher."

It was at about that point that Allison Mann, version 1.0, completely lost her shit.

It wasn't very often that Sarah felt the urge to swear. Even when she was killed, her initial reaction had been to pray to a god she didn't believe in, and yet now, however, now that the duplicate was talking, Sarah couldn't think of doing anything else. After letting out a string of curse words, she knelt down, so she was closer to Dr. Mann, who was rightly freaking out.

Placing her hand against Dr. Mann's shoulder, Sarah stared down at the duplicate, and murmured, “God. It can talk.” Pausing, she corrected herself. “You can talk.”

Considering that it could talk, Sarah realised that she'd do well to stop thinking of the duplicate as an it. Briefly reaching over to grab another shot of morphine, Sarah took hold of the original Sarah's arm once more, and pushed in the needle. She figured Dr. Mann would need it now, more than ever.

Only the legs were left to come out, now.

Allison--the original Allison--was nothing short of speechless, and whether it was the inadequate morphine dosage or the shock all by itself was anyone's guess. She gritted her teeth, clenching her fists and digging her fingers into her palms, until the second shot began to kick in and she started to go slack.

She hadn't wanted to consider that this thing could talk. As nothing but a possibility, while the unformed mouth moved silently and lungs in any fashion were half a body away, it was okay. As something come to fruition, it was... Christ, she couldn't even think about it without feeling sick. Was this going to happen again? What was she going to do with it once the duplicate was gone from her body?

Meanwhile, the Allison that was currently pulling her way out of her torso was significantly less speechless and significantly more pissed off.

"Of course I can speak, Dr. Kinney," she replied, looking up at her with some irritation. "I have the same brain and the same vocal chords. I'm a clone. Not in the traditional sense, obviously, but... well. This isn't a picnic for me either, especially considering that somebody keeps trying to suck me back in. It's a goddamn cellular undertow."

"Am I still doing that?" Dr. Mann asked, her voice weak. "I didn't realize." She was apologizing to her clone. She was apologizing to her clone.

The duplicate shrugged.

"Given that I'm you," she said, her voice brisk and exactly like her own, "I think I can say I understand."

“I apologise if I've never seen a clone created in such a way,” Sarah grumbled down at the second Dr. Mann. Strange, how she took a harsher tone with the clone, as if it was somehow her fault that the original Dr. Mann was currently so very distressed.

Well, the clone certainly seemed a lot calmer than the doctor.

Clothes. God, the other Dr. Mann would be needing clothing. Not that getting them would be particularly helpful, but gaining some sense of normality (insofar as that was possible) might help both Dr. Manns relax a little. She doubted she was being much help here, anyway.

“I'll get you some clothing,” Sarah said, taking the liberty of heading into Dr. Mann's bedroom.

Picking up the first thing she came across—what looked to be a lose fitting pair of pyjamas—and folding them over her arm, she headed back to the living area. She placed them down, next to the clone, and continued to kneel by the side of the sofa.

"Thanks," the original Dr. Mann managed, never taking her eyes off the protrusion.

The clone didn't seem to take any offense at the tone; as Allison knew, of course, she wouldn't, were she normalized to whatever the hell this fiasco could be described as. At this particular moment in time, it was more important to complete the process of getting the fuck out of her abdomen than to bicker. It was only sensible.

And at least she appeared to be her, as opposed to a braindead mass of tissue or something straight from a low-budget horror movie. It didn't make her parthenogenesis any less disturbing, or the second Allison any less unwelcome, but it did alleviate most of her more irrational fears about the situation. When Dr. Kinney returned, the clone nodded and immediately started to put on the top of the set, leaving the rest to wait.

Then she turned to look up at Allison as far as she was capable, her hands braced against the floor and her eyes narrowed--not out of malicious intent, she realized, but because she didn't have any glasses. Although meeting her gaze wasn't the thing in the world she least wanted to do, strictly speaking, it still placed very low on her list of priorities. But what choice did she have, at this point?

"This is my first time, too," she said, "so this is only a hypothesis, but I would suggest letting go."

Sarah continued to stare down at the original Dr. Mann, and the rapidly forming second Dr. Mann. No matter how many powers Sarah had witnessed unravelling, this whole self-duplication process wasn't becoming any less remarkable to watch.

“You give good advice,” Sarah said, “I'd follow it, if I were you.”

She almost laughed at the comment--almost--but it came out wrong, too bitter. Which was true of most things that came out of her, wasn't it? Ha, ha.

But Dr. Kinney and her clone were right. Allison had to release whatever control she was unconsciously exerting. She closed her eyes and tried her best to focus, banishing the thought that she must look like the grotesque confirmation of yet another Asian stereotype. Meditation, if you could overlook the furrowed brow and sheen of sweat. How very fucking zen of her.

Let go.

The clone was still leaving her body, obviously--she didn't know what would stop it at this point--but she didn't notice any significant changes. Stop focusing on what's going on outside of you and release what's still in there, she thought, gritting her teeth, though berating herself probably wasn't doing much either. Think about that. Think about letting go. There is nothing keeping you from letting this thing out, there is no reason to--

Ayuko, you must let go of this.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she whispered, her eyes snapping wide open. Had anything happened? It had just been the recalling of a phrase, stored somewhere in her mind, but for a second it had honestly sounded like her mother. As she dismissed the thought, Allison noted two things; first, that the clone was finally separate. Second? She was seeing with more than two pairs of eyes.

It was impossible to describe in any way other than sensory overload, and even the terror couldn't keep Dr. Mann from being absolutely fascinated. She could feel the carpet she was sitting on. She could also feel the couch she was sitting on. As she pulled on her pants, she stared, bug-eyed, down at herself pulling on her pants.

This was, officially, the worst power she could have hoped to receive.

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look at the way we go out walking together

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ABASHASKJASH I HAD A WHOLE REPLY AND LOST IT FML

D:

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