Whoa oh oh oh, I'm radioactive... radioactive

Summer 2021, Week 4, Monday afternoon

Machelini's, Loyalist Bluffs

Murvitt Olin

Eyes darting around as he steps nervously across the threshold of the restaurant, he is met by a host asking if he has a reservation.
"M-Murvitt Olin, p-party of S-Sidorov." He responds quietly.

Storyteller

The hostess nodded, guiding the man to a circular booth in the rear of the restaurant, occupied by three men in suits. The first, the man on the left, was a devilishly handsome man with dark blonde hair and stark blue eyes, shaggy stubble gracing his jaw in that dashing, rugged sort of way. The man in the center, noticeably older, wore his salt and pepper hair brushed back, sides shaved close like a 20's gangster you'd see in a movie, his suit seemingly tailored to account for an unusual amount of muscle. The final, rightmost man, if one could call him such, was the youngest of the bunch, no more than 20. His black hair fell limp around his face, the blue of his eyes held no light as he stared through the very molecules of the table into the nothingness beyond.
Noticing the aproaching hostess bringing their guest, the center man motioned for Murv to sit beside the blonde man with a thick, muscular hand. "I trust you found your invitation well?" the man said, voice muddied by a prominent Russian accent.

Murvitt Olin

They would see a thin, wiry man dressed in dark brown slacks, a nice white shirt with a light brown vest over it, complete with a tasteful red bowtie at his throat. His hair and moustache were both muddy brown and well-groomed (a lot of care was taken to ensure they were always presentable), and his light blue eyes betrayed his nervousness by constantly darting around, taking in as much information as he could with them, planning potential avenues of escape if conversation turns sour.
"I d-did, though I-I am c-curious as to why you w-wanted to see me sp-specifically.. M-mister Sidorov, I p-presume?" His stuttering holds a russian accent as well, though less thick as the one presented by the man before him. He cautiously takes the seat beside the blonde man, his hands jittering in his lap afterward"It has has-been long t-time since I have s-spoken to my f-family, but s-surely they are m-more interest t-to you." Unless they caught wind that Sidorovs were in America and fled country again, or they were unawareandtheywereexecutedforfleeingtheSidorovs- he takes in a shaky breath and tries to slow down his racing mind. Then again, they have distinct lack of evo ability where grandfather and I shared that luxury.

Storyteller

"We have heard of your work, your... medicine," said the blonde man, a sick smile creeping into his face. "My father, his English not so good, you know. But we hear things, told things. Your family help us, yes? In past. And again now. Kirill, he is... sick, from inside, you know?" The man motioned to the vacant young man across the table, his gaunt features even more visible up close, dark eyes, sunken cheeks, clammy skin... the boy did not look well.

Murvitt Olin

He looks to the young man, his knowledge in medicine somewhat limited as his field of study is genetics rather than practical medicine. But the blonde man was right, the boy did not look well. He adopts a common dialect of Russian to ensure translation won't be lost to either party. "How long h-has he had s-such symptoms?" he asked, his voice growing softer. "He l-looks anemic.." But perhaps it is more than just anemia. He addresses the young man, Kirill, "D-does anything i-in part-ticular make illness w-worse?"

Storyteller

The blonde man's eyes twitched at the switch to their mother tongue, not in anger but almost as if he was unsure he would hear it in this foreign country. At the address of Kirill, however, the man's coy smirk evolved into a gleeful smile.

Kirill Sidorov

"Power," the boy mumbled in the language of the Motherland, drawing his eyes up to meet Murv's. While all men present at the table bore blue eyes, the boys were... different. There was no light within them, the blue did not sparkle or shine, as if the life had left him long ago. As he looked up, his smooth, clammy skin began to crack in the darkened areas beneath his eyes, thin lines beginning to spread like cooled lava, an otherworldly green glow escaping his flesh. The boy drew a ragged breath before hanging his head again, long straight hair falling into his face, the cracks in his skin slowly returning to... normal, all things considered.

Storyteller

"As you can see, our youngest brother is not well. He serves no one dead and withered, and so we require your expertise." The blonde man turned back to Murv, that sly grin returning to his face, like a traveling salesman who knew he would be paid.

Murvitt Olin

He looked into the cold and lifeless eyes of Kirill as he replied to Murv, and as the display was shown he felt almost immediately sick to his stomach. Radiation? Continuing in the Motherland's tongue, he states in a worried voice, "I do h-have same ability as m-my grandfather, where I m-mute and empower abilities t-to some degree.. But if y-young m-man is sick, I c-can only p-promise to extend t-time while I f-find solution. I h-have few p-projects save for t-testing limits of m-my own abilities, and I-I am on c-call for l-lucrative business th-that will help f-fund my research f-for a solution. M-my projects c-can wait, b-business cannot."

Storyteller

The man in the middle spoke up. "You will be paid. Money is no issue, name a price and have it." He spoke so matter of factly, as if this was a daily conversation. He turned to Kirill, looking him over before waving to the blonde man. "Alexei will take care of money, he guard and protect you if needed."

Murvitt Olin

He purses his lips a little bit, and admits ruefully "I... d-don't think one m-man can protect m-me from the R-Red Prince's w-wrath, and h-he was.. insistent I w-was under his emp-ploy." His brow furrows, and asks "I am n-not entirely s-sure I am a-able to ease s-symptoms, but m-may I t-try?" He extends his hand towards Kirill with the intent to suppress an ability, his hand beginning to surround itself with crimson arcs of energy.

[Power Muting, Normal x1, -3EP (12/15)]

Kirill Sidorov

The boy’s ragged breathing calmed as he allowed the energy to course through him, the subtle green glow emitting from beneath his eyelids fading. Kirill’s appearance, however, remained unchanged, still bearing the signs of whatever sickness had been permeating his body. Slowly, the boy reached his hands above the table, removing one of his black leather gloves with mild shakes in his extremities. The hand beneath was… unwell. His fingertips were blackened, the flesh between the final digits of his fingers shriveled and concave, as if burnt by some energy. The skin on the back of his hand was crackled and torn like the lines in burnt wood, the edges of the tears and fissures blackened to a crisp, and yet… the boy did not glow. His ability had been muted, but the damage done to his body remained, far more serious than a simple side effect.

Storyteller

The other two mobsters observed with a look of awe and disgust, a morbid curiosity compelling their gaze. The oldest brought his eyes back to Murv, clearing his throat. “So. See why this big deal.” He motioned to Alexei, who bent below the table to produce a thin black briefcase. “Money in bag. Take, work hard. We talk soon.”

Murvitt Olin

He eyes the changes as the dampening effect surges through Kirill's body, but also sees the lasting impact that having such a power is taking a very heavy toll on the poor boy and cringes from the severity it has already progressed. "V-Very big d-deal. I w-will work hard and d-do best. I will f-find best way t-to help." He nods once, slowly inhales, and adds "I will start immediately." September 19, 2021

Storyteller

As Kirill continued to stare into the wreckage of flesh that was his hand, the other two gangsters readied themselves to leave. Alexei, the blonde man, patted Murv on the shoulder. “You do good work, I know. All of us are blessed, but my brother, his gift is… tainted. The devil’s cruel joke to our family. He does no honour to us like he is, he need… fixing.”

Murvitt Olin

"I-I will m-make you and my g-grandfather proud." He visibly jumps as Alexei pats Murv on the shoulder, and out of reflex blinks behind his chair, now standing up. "Ap-pologies, I w-was s-startled." He stiffens from both embarrassment and the sudden tension he is feeling. A sudden flood of panic fills his mind, his thoughts racing, wondering Did I just screw up? Am I going to die for this? Why can I not control self? On the outside, he freezes as his eyes dart around, resting first on Alexei, then the large man, then to Kirill, then to the large man, and back to Alexei. No one else in the restaurant, aside from the present Russian company, seemed to notice the sudden change in movement.
"I w-work straight away. I t-take him to l-lab and d-do b-best to h-h-help him f-feel c-comfortable."

[Teleportation, Basic x1, -0EP (15/15)]

Storyteller

Alexei Sidorov stood with a chuckle, emanating from deep in his belly, motioning to Kirill. "Come, brother. Artyom will manage meetings, we go to doctor factory." The blonde Russian had switched back to English, an unfavoured and foreign language, but the socially accepted one in public. The large, older man, now named as Artyom, nodded to his brothers as he produced a phone, presumeably to schedule the next order of business. Kirill's sluggish movements and vacant stare betrayed his thoughts, hesitant to replace his fine leather glove and follow his brother. "You can do this, what they ask? Turn this power off?" the boy asked, his soft voice raspy and forced, a mark of internal damage to his throat, as could be estimated for the rest of his body. Kirill's English seemed the best of the three, but still a second language to the teen.

Murvitt Olin

Taken a little aback by the boy's question, he focuses on his vacant expression, unable to quite pin down any inkling of why the boy would ask such a thing. Proceeding to follow suit with the flow back to English, he stammers "I-" What do I even say? It would be insanity to try and erase something like that. Is there even a way to permanently do that? "I c-cannot promise such r-results.. It m-may be imp-probable, but n-not impossible."

Storyteller

The movement of Kirill's eyes was the only sign of acknowledgement, his face expressionless. Alexei shook his head, a sigh escaping him as the sly smirk faded briefly from his face, turning to Murv as his signature expression returned to him. "To your work, or we be in touch later?" he asked, motioning to the front door. "There no need to threaten, eh? You know, we know, cheating or escaping, bad thing happen, yes?"

Murvitt Olin

His gaze remains unbroken, only now just starting to feel the cold fear that froze him in place begin to recede. Well, begin to, anyway. "T-To the lab. I b-begin immediately. N-No need for th-threat. I let y-you know if I n-need to be s-somewhere. Besides.." He continues to look at Kirill, head tilting slightly to the left as if to examine with curiosity. "This is v-very interesting p-project, well w-worth my time."

Helico, Downtown

Kirill Sidorov

The black Cadillac CTS V arrived at their destination, the driver behind the wheel giving a nod to Alexei in the passenger seat, who turned to face the other two in the rear. “This is place? Is nice. Nice like car, eh? You do good, we get you car like this.” He motioned to the fine luxury interior, authentic leather and hand stitched upholstery, smelling a mix of that ‘new car’ treated leather and fine, high end cigars. Kirill had not said a word for the duration of the trip, head leaned against his window as he stared blankly into the void, never seeming to truly recognize any of the things before him, expression unchanging.

Murvitt Olin

"I-indeed, this is n-nice place t-to w-work. Recently r-refurbished." He replies, his eyes almost never leaving Kirill, almost trying his best to study any symptom he could find from sight alone. They exit the car, Murv almost blinking out of the car from sheer nervousness, and make their way past the doors, scanning Murv's hand and eye simultaneously to unlock the entrance and allowing the Sidorovs inside with him. The receptionist starts to say something, but Murv quickly cuts him off with "No w-worry, Trevor. These are f-family friends, and th-their boy is sick. I w-will handle this one o-off books."
Trevor nods and sits back down as Murv leads the pair behind him to what is normally a testing lab, and finds a relatively comfortable chair for both Kirill and Alexei. "I w-will need to t-take blood samples t-to help diagnose the s-sickness." He says, immediately preparing some vials and needles to extract the samples he needs.

Kirill Sidorov

Alexei relaxed the hand on his hip as the receptionist began to ask questions, shrugging with a sly smirk and motioning for Kirill to follow, taking a seat in the lab. "Sure, yes. Is not... not red. Just warning."
Kirill's head lolled up to meet Murv's eyes, simply turning over his wrist and beginning to pull up the sleeves of his blazer and button up. His pale flesh was streaked with eerie green veins, the edges and borders seemingly blackened.

Murvitt Olin

He pauses for a moment when he hears the blood is not red. Shaking his head to clear away the disbelief that invaded his thoughts, he states "B-Be right b-back. Grabbing equipment." I should be using protective gear. In an instant he envisions himself in a room a few doors down from their location near a full rack of PPE, and blinks, feeling a slight rush as he instantaneously teleports to that spot. He grabs a set of PPE and focuses on the spot he came from, blinking with the rush once more with the gear in hand.
Quickly preparing and sterilizing himself, the equipment and the tools he will be using, he asks "H-Have you recieved t-treatment already? IV, injection, other t-treatment?" He prepares a needle and Kirill's arm to draw some blood, and furrows his brow. "Small p-pinch, as p-probably guessed." He finds a good vein and inserts the needle, immediately beginning to draw a green, glowing liquid that screams 'RADIATION' to anyone that saw it. After one vial is sufficiently filled, he replaces it with another with a different colored cap, followed by another. After there have been enough vials to sufficiently test for several diseases and to monitor if other chemical traces were adversely affected, he withdraws the needle and immediately covers the area with a gauze and medical tape.

[Teleportation, Minor x2, -2EP (13/15)]

Kirill Sidorov

Kirill said nothing as the test commenced, Alexei clearing his throat as he not-so-subtly scooted his chair away from the boy as the blood began to flow. "Kirill has had... eh... cancer doctor. Did not work, no doctor can study the- Chemo!" he shouted, suddently remembering the term. "Kirill has chemo in past, did not work. Now we are here."
At the insertion of the needle, the skin suddounding it began to crack and separate, black crags forming in the flesh and beginning to glow an otherworldly green.

Murvitt Olin

His brow furrows further with worry, for this news does not bode well. Chemotherapy didn't even work? What do they expect me to do wheresomeoneexperiencedwithdealingwith- Calm. They are depending on you. He looks back to them, his mouth a thin crease of worry, before returning to his work, and inserting the vials into a machine that will test each one for a different purpose.
He takes his phone quickly out of his pocket and types a message to a new contact, one titled 'Red Baron', before he returns it to his pocket and setting up new tests. "Chemoth-therapy didn't w-work? Did they t-tell you what t-they were d-doing, specifically?"

Storyteller

Alexei shrugged, his expression twisting into one of confusion and apathy. "Boy made of radiation. Not much medicine option, yes?" His thick accent staggered through the words, looking around the lab with absentminded curiosity. "Kirill is strange case, no EVO like him, no disease, no medicine made."

Murvitt Olin

Taking a deep breath, he admits "Other e-employer has certain r-resources, and I j-just checked to s-see if he has a-any employees that r-regenerate or heal. M-May work in p-place of usual t-treatment methods."

Storyteller

"Like healer blood switch, eh? This could work?" Alexei removed his blazer, draping it over the back of his chair as he rolled up the sleeves of his white button up shirt, flexing his hands in the black leather gloves he and his brothers wore. His, however, appeared to have a bit of padding or armour across the knuckles. "There are... no doctors, no others here, yes?" he asked, glancing around the lab.

Murvitt Olin

"On th-this floor, there is m-myself and Ingrid, b-but Ingrid leaves in a few m-minutes. She usually l-leaves me be, either w-way." He tilts his head to the left, slightly curious. "Y-You are self-healer? And h-have compatible b-blood type?"

Storyteller

"Me? No, not healer, I am bodyguard, I am... eh..." Looking around, Alexei struggled to find a way to explain his own ability, cursing under his breath in the mother tongue. "Hit me. Hard as you can, no back holding. Come." He held his arms out, opening his chest and face up for a strike with a sigh.

Murvitt Olin

The request came as a surprise, and he looked incredulously at Alexei. What game is he playing? Surely he isn't serious. He wants me to punch him? Murv blinks a few times, shakes his head as if to shake away any hesitation, balled up his fist for the first time in a long, long time, and throws everything he had (which given how thin and scrawny Murv is, isn't much) into a punch aimed at Alexei's right pectoral muscle.

Storyteller

Alexei's shoulders moved in reaction to the strike, but... not by much, looking Murv up and down with a smirk as he twisted his hips with a hard right punch to the nearest wall, a wave of reddish energy leaving his fist and resonating through the room, a respectable dent in the wall. He turned to face Murv once again, a sly smile plastered across his lips. "You punch me, I punch with your punch, eh? Good for bodyguard."

Murvitt Olin

As soon as Alexei made a move, Murv tries to blink a few feet behind himself out of reflex. Though, reflex wasn't aware of the wheeled table behind him. He feels the rush of rapidly transpositioning himself, then a sharp pain as he invades the space of the portable table before he is rejected back to his original space, a massive feeling of vertigo pervading his mind and intense nausea making him almost vomit on the clean tile floor. The entire scene to Alexei would appear as if Murv glitched into and back out of the table, and Murv doubling over while clutching both his head and stomach.
Collecting himself, he brings himself to look toward the dented wall and (somehow from the combination of pain, nausea and vertigo on top of irritation from seeing a portion of his lab defaced) replies with clenched teeth, with hardly a stutter "An overly simple explanation of energy conservation, but yes. Good for bodyguard and protector."

[Teleportation, Basic x1 (FAILED), -0EP (13/15)]

Storyteller

Alexei scoffed, dusting his knuckles off with a smirk. "Simple says man inside table, eh? Is great for bodyguard. I am best. Best at punch and be punch, Artyom best at big strong meat man, Kirill best at walking ghost town. Poof, everybody dead, no more everybody." He pantomimed their respective powers to further exagerate his point, motioning to the nearly catatonic brother in the chair, the glowing green crags in his flesh beginning to mend themselves. "See? Is eh... bad spooky. Bad spooky, no more people. No more people, no more money, no more happy crime." He took a moment before his smile crept in again, pointing to himself. "Me. I am happy crime."

Murvitt Olin

The room continued to spin as his mind still reeled, continuing to suppress the urge to vomit. The testing machine continues to hum in the background, feeling like it is buzzing inside of his skull.
"H-Happy crime..." he wryly scoffs back. "I am sure p-people on receiving end would s-say otherwise.. But y-you are here to fix your.. spooky brother. And I help."
He steadies himself on a countertop, taking a couple of deep breaths. Such is the way of cruel world. Strong prey upon weak to become stronger and stronger until they are made prey or time consumes them. But.. He looks to the catatonic boy with the mending crags of charred flesh. Weak can be nurtured to become strong.
"I should r-run more tests.. x-ray should prove useless, yes? Just an overexposed, blank image?"

Storyteller

Taking a moment to process the words directed at him, Alexei nodded. “Yes, X-ray just… bleh. Boy bleeds radiation, not good radiation picture, eh? Maybe…” he approached Murv, plopping a hand atop the scientist’s head, “science make new picture? Good picture, for only Kirill.”
The boy himself seemed… tired, his head lolled to the side as he stared daggers into the wall, his face never changing.

Murvitt Olin

Flinching from the touch, he tries hard in his state to avoid blinking once more. "Yes. I-I'll find way with s-science." Seeing Kirill even more tired than his usual self, he takes a deep breath before adding, "I should a-arrange for cots if you s-stay here.. else you m-may wish to find place comfortable for s-staying.. there is hotel nearby. T-Tests may take a while." He says, motioning to the humming machine.

Storyteller

“No. Kirill stays here,” Alexei snapped, quickly clearing his throat. “Bad idea for him near eh… normal people. He is safe with science. Artyom handle business. I handle you. You handle him.”

Murvitt Olin

His body freezes at the sudden outburst, trying desperately to hold his current position in space as his body instinctively wants to jump again. "U-Underst-stood." He replies shakily, and pulls out a notebook from his lab coat pocket to make lists of possible ways to test various things. Thinking it is about time to refresh the inhibitor on Kirill, he sets the notebook and pen aside, wreathing his hand in dancing red motes of light once more before patting Kirill on the shoulder, the motes darting into Kirill and spreading the dulling sensation that mutes evo power, though not entirely erasing it. "I try my best so I can end suffering soon."

[Power muting, Normal x1 (and remaining total accounting for possible use in the car on the way to the lab), -3EP (6/15)]

Kirill Sidorov

Kirill accepted the power muting, drawing in a deep, ragged breath as the motes of energy washed over him, filling the cracks and crags that littered his flesh. His skin began to look smoother, softer, the sickly pale green undertone leaving his fair skin. Alexei smiled a bit, looking around the lab. “There is place for Kirill, yes? Hospital room, a bed somewhere?” He approached his brother, cautiously clapping a hand on his shoulder. “See? You less spooky already. Abercrombie who, eh?”

Murvitt Olin

He gives a slight smile. "There are beds on floor above. We will bring you there if you wish to rest, Kirill. I hope you are feeling better, yes?" He searches the boy's face, looking for any sign of improvement or sign of coherent activity.

Kirill Sidorov

The boy’s eyes began to twitch, his breathing becoming erratic for a moment before he stood, stretching his neck. Kirill turned to face the doctor, similarly scanning Murv’s face as he gave a soft nod. “Better,” the boy muttered, exchanging a glance with Alexei.
“And eh… how long treatment take? You must… invent? Or just do.”

Murvitt Olin

His smile falters, the fact that he doesn't have an absolute answer prevalent on his face. "I.. I don't k-know how long. It is s-something I must invent. Your p-power is one of a k-kind, and has no p-precedence for successful treatment." He nods, as if he is convincing himself through the action, his soft smile returning to his face. "But if anyone may do it, it is me."

Storyteller

“This is why we come here. You are only super doctor could save Kirill,” Alexei responded. “But, do not do this, and I make you into rug for children’s treehouse, yes?” He looked his brother up and down, his signature sly smirk slowly fading as Kirill began to wandering around the lab, looking incredibly sore all over. “Sidorov need him, need his power. Very important for many crime. But eh…. He is kid. Help crime family so you are not a rug, yes, but… help kid live.” The brief moment of tenderness shown by the gangster was snuffed out as he began to walk after Kirill, asking him standard wellness questions in Russian.

Murvitt Olin

He smiles nervously, replying "Like I s-say to Artyom, no n-need for threat. I d-do this for the kid, a-anyway. Suffering is.. n-not good for anyone." Which is why I must make a more permanent treatment. I only help approximately half hour at a time, at expense of energy.
He leads them to a room with a hospital bed and a few chairs, and continues to work well into the evening, making plans for various tests and checking in on Kirill frequently.

---

Murvitt Olin

Text Message

To: Dallas
Do you happen to have someone under your employ that exhibits self-healing traits? I have an impromptu patient who is deteriorating rapidly from his power.

Dallas Lock

Text Message

To: Murv Olin
I have some products on hand that can accelerate the healing of an individual. I’m unsure of their effect on someone if their own power is damaging them. It may be best to head to a clinic in the city to seek more information from the products designer. I’ll send the address

Murvitt Olin

Text Message

To: Dallas
Thank you. I will likely pay them a visit tomorrow, unless you need me to be present then.

Type

Record, Historical

Medium

Digital Recording, Text