~ Brain Dive ~

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The thing in the capsule was still trying to figure out what was going on. As the rest of the cargo had yet to have a brain translated, he was the only one sentient and active and he was trying to show his activity as he kept banging against the walls. Hopefully to draw attention. Of course, he didn't know of the wires or likely he'd have caused either less or more ruckus.

"C'è Qualcuno?" He asked with a slightly loud voice, Italian for 'Is there anyone?" He could hear some indistinct buzzing, possibly of people, but no hints they had heard him out. What happened next actually made him gasp as first he felt as if someone had lifted the whole cell he was in, quickly followed by the rumour of a loud explosion. As soundproof as his small prison was, no way it could fully drown that loud noise, just feeling buffeted all over as he was rolled out of the place.

Did he do that? No it was unlikely, the way they seemed to pay attention to him had next to no correlation to his actions. Something had to be acting out. Slowly, however, not fatigue, not physical but mental would begin to supersede, his blows beginning to lose enthusiasm. Was anyone even noticing him? Possibly? He was hearing some movement again.

If only, if only. For a second, a small fit of rage and his prosthetic argumented strength would send his fist against one of the wall. The thud was surprising, but it was far from damaged. Maybe it had a dent? He couldn't say, too dark. Still... he didn't know it was this strong. Quickly, this realisation was followed by pain and numbness in his arm.

How much time was it passing outside? He had no idea. There was next to no light source so he could see, nor he had enough of an inner clock to be able to mark the passing of time. He wasn't tired, but he rested against one of the walls, trying to ponder for new strategies. Different transports, new movements. Occasionally he tapped with the foot the angle of his prison, by now pretty sure they weren't noticing him.

Now that he thought of it... that capsule wasn't too bad. Sure, eating was a problem but... he could breathe... have some movement... who knew what waited him outside. Did he want to know?

He honestly had come to fear to know were he was going... if that thought, this 'ghost feeling' weren't beginning to big him, he could have even fallen asleep. Maybe if closed the eyes for a mom... wait... what were those noise? was that... more light?

Oh yes, they are opening the capsule.

Oh no they are opening it.

What could he do? what could he do? Oddly his first instinct was a vain attempt to keep the door shut, but the blinding light, as used as he had been for his several hours inside a completely dark are made his optic receptors take some time to stabilise. Now he was frozen in fear to begin his new life, whatever it could be or, worse, how long it could last?

Staring at the young boy inside the container, no, a capsule, Motoko peered in. They were protected by several resistant blast screens but she stepped around and looked at him. Slowly peering at him without a word. Everyone around them had gone to Autistic mode; non-wireless mode and everything contained in their own head.

"Hello." Motoko spoke softly, she wore her standard blue jeans, V piece pink thing with a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses tucked over in a pocket.

"My name is Major Motoko Kusanagi, I am from the Japanese Public Security Section 9 Police Agency." She spoke calmly, softly, almost motherly. Unsure if this was some sort of weaponized cyborg made to look like a child or perhaps a real child stolen. There had been cases of children being stolen during the Solid State Society case but they had to make sure.

"You are safe here. What is your name?"

When the woman spoke at first, he felt a little frozen, his sensory in an overload between the bright light, causing him to remove glasses and... wait, he could see, and pretty well... So why was he wearing glasses? He didn't know, but he put them by instinct back on. They felt almost as if protecting him.

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