Racheria props herself up from the pillow, looking at White with surprise clear on her features. After a few moments she sighs and drops back down onto the pillow, rubbing her face and groaning softly.

"Well fuck. I suppose you carry a gas analyser with you just in case of a leak, right?"

She snarks, uncovering her right eye as she hears him roll closer and chuckle.

"No. I may be paranoid.... but not that paranoid."

He replies while muffling a yawn and nestling into his own pillow. "And I can still somewhat smell, just not.... less than 30ish...."

She sighs again after listening to his sleeping breaths, mildly annoyed at his dismissive attitude towards himself and most things around him. Shifting onto her back she gazes at the ceiling with thoughts running rampant in her mind, starting from the first panic-invoking dreams weeks ago to the most recent events around her. With a flash of curiosity she returns back to the dream that woke her minutes before, struggling to drag back the clearest picture of the figure or even details of the room. After a few moments she turns her head to look over at the other occupant, curious as to what triggered such a violent reaction before noticing.

'He's in REM state already?'

She questions within her head, sliding closer as she continues to study his evershifting eyelids.

After several long moments his eyes settle into a slow but still shifting pace, his features easing miniscule portions away from the fierce tension of before. Noting that his right ear was still slowly shifting she rolls onto her back, letting her thoughts settle into a comfortable state of happy serenity with the closing of her eyes.

As her mind drifts into slumber a disturbance distorts the air beyond the windows outside, the very fabric of the world split by a deep but localized darkness only to close once more after a long moment...

-----------------------------

"... And what of the strains you've managed to get so far?"

An old, wizened voice says within a lavishly furnished conference room, the partially hidden speaker one of thirteen others spread around a massive circular stone table.

"Exponential regenerative ability is present in all the remaining ones so far, but wildly varying aftereffects leave a lot to be desired to say the least."

Mechanically replies one sitting lacklusterly in a chair, the white of his lab coat vibrant against the shadow from the overhead lighting.

Shifting the papers within his silver hands he looks up and sweeps his gaze around at the other seats, pausing at a pair seated nearby with noticable swirls of steam billowing from their clothing before focusing back on the graphs and notes.

"While the Phoenix clan's DNA and the Vampyrs' funding have been of immense help with research into creating an Omega-class being, we're still held back by the host's inherit capability. Even with the most recent powerful beings aquired for testing, it seems that without a minimum fully-rounded magical host the sub-atomic bonding is incomplete, the most mild cases of unfit hosts losing some inherit traits rather than converting the cellular makeup or enhancing the soul. This is a typical response."

With a few taps on a small device on a small sub-level of the table, twelve screens lower down from above and flicker on with the beginning of a recording. Restrained to an operating table is a large bipedal drake, a medical mask and various tubes piercing dark orange scales on his arms and chest. Within moments of playback an off-colored liquid begins flowing thickly down the tubes and entering into the subject's bloodstream, a sharp jolt of the subject at the same moment. As it begins to mix with his body tissues malignant tumors begin to form around the area of contact, spreading out over his body as he struggles violently against the thick metal restraints.

As the mixture meets another injection point the tumors vibrate rapidly before exploding outwards, the splattering of various tissues and internal fluids drawing out clear lines of conflict within the subject as his body's rejection slowly destroys him. Each large pop of the near-cancerous flesh exposes his internal organs, which also begin to deteriorate at a rapid pace. After a mere four minutes all that's left of the formerly healthy male drake is a steaming mess of shattered bones, liquified tissues, and pieces of scales embedded within the table. With a sharp flicker the screens all shift to a still image of a red-black wolfess slipping through a molten steel wall, the focal point of twenty four various colored and glowing eyes.

"Thankfully, the Scout section of our 'Code Lost' project has marked a potentally high-value subject that could solve all our issues..."

-----------------------------

White snaps his head upwards and instantly sweeps the room half-awake, the sound of faint bird chirps and other noises somewhat calming him after a few moments. Looking down at his abnormally warm feeling chest he finds Racheria curled in against him, the soft puffs of her breathing teasing against his fur. Using gentle shifts and tugs he frees himself from her clasped arms, sliding out of the bed and silently putting on his boots as he digs in the assault pack nearby. Retrieving the small pouch he rises and makes his way into the bathroom, directing pressure on the door hinges as he steps into the dark once open. Closing the door using similar care he sets the pouch on the sink counter, refreshing himself in muffling darkness via contained toiletry items.

Sealing the pouch and making his way quietly out of the restroom, he lazily drops it back into the pack before grabbing his shirt and sliding it on. Tucking the excess material down his fatigues and cinching tight his belt, he eases down onto the floor with his palms stretched in line from the center of his abdomen. Keeping his feet pressed together while extended out flat, he takes a deep breath then lowers his body until the very tip of his nose brushes the ground. Releasing the held breath he rises until his arms fully extend, lowering back down with the pushup at a steady but agonizingly slow pace.

He continued on with the punishing variant of pushups until the natural light was bright enough to disturb Racheria's sleep, standing up as she let out a muted moan. After a few seconds of shifting about she jolts upwards in the bed, looking around and blinking before her gaze lands on him muffling laughter.

"..... Oh fuck off, ya bastard."

She quips, throwing back the sheets and sliding off the bed. "Not everyone is silent and deadly."

White shakes his head as he folds a paw over his muzzle, the rich baritone of his barely-muted laughter vibrant in the area's quiet. Racheria scoffs then makes her way into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her to the continued amusement of him. With some trailing laughter followed by a sigh he grabs his cell phone from the desk, quickly passing through the multi-level security and scanning through the various datafeeds before shutting the screen off. With a quick wrist flick as he lowers his arm the device vanishes into his hip pocket, sealing it with the loop button on the inner lining. Patting the fabric he lifts his foot onto the chair and straightens the ankle tie of his fatigues, tucking the material down into the boot then tying it tight to blouse out the bottom.

He repeats the actions with his other leg before Racheria walks out of the bathroom, turning his body to look at her as he lowers the now tied boot. A seemingly fitted gray long sleeve drapes over the dark brown cargo pants resting on her hips, blending the the earthen colored boots that have clearly seen better times.

"...What? There something wrong?"

-----------------------------

'I swear, if he's just fucking with me...'

She thinks as he shakes his head and rubs a paw over his eyes.

"No. Just believed you'd take longer."

He replies, reaching over and closing the assualt pack before lifting it onto his shoulders. "But since you seem all prim and proper...."

She growls at the devil's grin crossing his lips, making him chuckle while lifting his rifle from the desk and slinging it over.

"Now we can get going."

He calls out over his shoulder, picking up her rifle and holding it out towards her. "I'll speak with Mara about the route there. She should still be around until 7-ish."

Racheria grabs the rifle and slips the sling over her head, swinging it behind her and out of the way as he sets four polymer magazines on the bed for her. Wordlessly she copies White and stuffs them one by one into the large thigh pockets, the only containers large enough to hold more than one at a time. As she finishes buttoning the pocket a massive boom rattles the building, preceeding a momentary loss of light for her to process before she's shoved roughly down to the ground.

"Ooof. Wha-"

White cuts off her vocal thrashing of his method of handling with a paw to her muzzle, clamping down with near-crushing force on her spawled out self.

"Quiet. You can bitch later."

He harshly but barely whispers out while watching the window with his sidearm, slowly letting go of her maw before motioning towards the bathroom. "Get your bag, we're leaving now."

She nods, slowly crawling back through the open door and gasping the strap while he shifts over to the doorframe. A moment after she tugs on the bag he reaches his left paw back towards her, flicking his digits softly until she gets the message and places hers in with a squeeze. He squeezes back, tucking her under his arm before crouch-running to the hall with his body between her and the window.

"We're finding Mara for location then heading out."

He says to her as they clear the entry corner, unlocking the door then rotating her flat against the wall. "Mobility is the key now, so we're staying that way."

She nods, lifting her shirt slightly and revealing the Glock 40 tucked against her hip via inner waistband. "I'm ready."

-----------------------------

White glances at the sidearm at her waist then nods, releasing his hold on her shoulder to grab the doorknob. A slow swivel of his ears filter in various voices a fair distance from the door, most in curious tones while one argues loudly with another individual. Discerning no noise directly around the door he pulls it open, sweeping the left side then right before moving out into the hall. Racheria follows close behind, a noticable chill sweeping against White's spine as she whirls to face another direction.

"I don't care about how the military does things, I want to know why we, as guests, weren't notified prior to our stay!"

Someone yells out from within the lobby, perking White to glance down the stairwell and at the crowd gathering at the main desk.

"Oh joy. A mob of people."