Subject Y0XT39

Disjointed speech. Confusion. No immediate outward signs of something being wrong physically. Mantis doesn't know what's going on in your head, but he's going to reach in to find out.

"Take your time. Are you new here?"

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His mind, well, Mantis mind find it fine enough, if a bit reminiscent of a mind of two year old or five year old, depending on. In which areas, exactly.

Also, if Mantis might feel that, he might feel a faint presence of another mind, perhaps.

Upon hearing the question, the young man stands straight and looks straight at Mantis, just... shaking a little.

"Here?"

If Mantis was checking his mind, it's obvious that he understood the question, just... it didn't mind much sense to him. That Mantis might've asked whether blue is yellow and that would've made as much sense.

He doesn't seem to know much about, hm, places.

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Well, that's not remotely good. Mantis has seen some minds like this in his day, and it usually means something wrong with the brain. Simple mind, simple words, hopefully there's some way he can make the man talk a little more coherently. He keeps up the mental bond, intending to feed images along with his words.

Then there's that other influence... It's like an afterthought, but it tells Mantis a lot. Someone, or something, might have done this on purpose. He's not one to be patient about that kind of thing.

"Nexus. My name is Mantis." He holds his hand to his chest, hoping that the man will catch the image of a mantis insect that came with it. "What's your name? Do you remember?"

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It's extremely easy to keep a mental bond with him. Almost as if he's been specially made for that, too.

An image of a mantis intrigues and for a moment he just gets stuck on it, in fascination and wonder, almost like a child, before his mind turns back to the conversation at hand.

"Mantis," he says, pointing at the other man. "Vrepit sa."

Vrepit sa seems to be some kind of affirmation in another language.

Then, the young man points at himself, hesitates a little, unsure, then mutters,

"Designation: subject Y0XT39."

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Tommy rarely came out of his rooms. It was too hot, the gravity was too high and he generally disliked and distrusted everything humanoid at this point. Still, a need for supplies pushed him to get out and do some errands.

He's a tall man, unnaturally thin with orange-ish red hair, eyes just a little too big, skin just a little too pale. The question isn't what stops him to stare at the young man in the plaza. It's his mind and emotions. It's almost like there is a blank spot, nothing where there should be something.

One of his long arms cross over his chest, elbow of the other resting on it while his chin rests in the hand. He's just staring curiously as he tries to decide what may be going on here. Human were so weird after all, it was hard to tell.

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The young man glances furtively at him, then stands to attention. He feels anxious, and vaguely awaiting punishment, in a way that a routinely scared small child would. No surprise, no shock, only a bit dulled anxiety.

He also has a chronic headache, a splitting pain that he barely notices.

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Tommy listens for a few more moments before he takes the hand away from the chin and opens it palm out, a sign of relent. "I'm not interested in harming anyone."

The headache is curious and he wonders the source. His senses don't pinpoint a defect, readily, that would cause it.

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There's no defect. If Tommy really searches deeply, he might feel almost a trace of another presence, lingering. A trace of another mind, connected, but very much unlike this one. A whisper, almost. Strange one.

The young man looks cautionsly at the hand, then listens, and, after a moment, utters,

"Too. Not wanting harming. Agreed."

He smiles a little, barely. It's tentative, and shaky, as if he's never used those muscles, yet. No, it's apparent that he hasn't. This is his first smile.

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It's so odd. Tommy has a very strong, if gentle mind. The second voice has his attention. He's never seen a human like this and he's seen a large number of human minds.

He briefly wonders if this human is suffering from some sort of mental defect. He didn't feel anything, didn't see anything. Then there's an off feeling of newness that collided with the ade of the body.

"Who are you?"

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The tentative smile fades as he stands to attention again, barely even breathing.

And yes, there definitely is newness. Checking that mind out might reveal that it's - barely even formed, really, though there are already some informations. Guidelines. But they seem more external, almost, as if they've been very recently imposed.

Everything else feels rather... like a very little child's mind. Learning, fast. But learning what? That'd depend.

The question brings about some - almost indifference, really. Slightly calmer indifference. He utters,

"Designation: Subject Y0XT39."

The second voice, one who feels much more mature, and also not fitting here, is silent. However, Tommy might suddenly have a feeling that whoever the second voice belongs to, is suddenly looking straight at him, perhaps. Through the young man's eyes. Perhaps.

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So he speaks some kind of other language... It vaguely resembled the sounds of Slavic languages, but Mantis had never heard the words before.

And then he spoke. Drilled in words. Programming. He was experimented on in the past, possibly his whole life. The stark difference between his inability to communicate and rattling off the designation was definitely a bit jarring.

"That's...a bit of a long one. It starts with a 'y', so how about something small to call you. Yani. Can you say 'Yani'?

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"Can say Yani. Yani. Yani. Yani. Yani."

He looks at Mantis curiously. He thinks it's a test.

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"Very good. You will be Yani until we find out if this is permanent or not."

He's not able to understand every little word, but there's enough processing skills that Mantis can at least do something with it. He nods and beckons the man to follow.

"Come with me. For now. Are you hungry?

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"Subject is Yani? New designation?"

Hmmm.

And Mantis didn't seem to understand Vrepit Sa, Subject Yani says,

"Understood, Mantis, sir."

He tilts his head.

"Isn't starving."

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"Very good. You," He points to the newly named Yani. "Are designated Yani. I," He points to himself. "Am designated Mantis."

So that's a name settled, and he's not hungry, but he's can't wear that same outfit forever. Mantis crosses his arms.

"You need clothing. I have food at home, but you're a whole different build than I am."

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You? Soldiers and druids call subjects, any subject, 'it', not 'you'. 'You' is a soldier, or a druid. Mantis is a soldier, or a druid.

Subject Y... Yani... is not.

Is it?

He points at himself, and asks, timidly,

"Subject Yani are a Galra soldier now?"

Then, he listens. Food at somewhere called h-o-m-e, new word, completely. Build? Builds can be changed. He just listens, because, is he allowed to say anything, here?

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This is very curious. Being an Anthean who studies human culture, seeing something like this is fascinating.

"What does that mean?" He'd heard military ranks, social security numbers and some others. This was not usual. However, he's distracted by the other presence. Tommy is old and strong of mind. It was part of the reason he was sent to Earth. After resisting the torture on Earth he was that much stronger.

He easily meets the mental gaze and then slams his mind and emotions shut to the other presence. The action alone will clearly reveal that he isn't human, isn't mortal potentially. It was hard to say with the Antheans if they were simply long lived or immortal. The only deaths in recent memory were in war.

He doesn't like it, the way it feels off sort of makes him feel queasy. No, whatever that is he doesn't like. He reinforces the wall and watches it for the other side to try anything.

Attention back to the physical presence. "Where did you come from?"

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Mantis pauses as he considers the confusion and the question. There's a lot of weird programming going on if that's the kind of assumption that Yani goes to when presented new information. Clearly, his type of designation is not afforded much personal freedom, but now he's wondering about the 'soldier' aspect.

"You might be. You look strong enough to be a soldier, but I don't know if you are one. What else can you remember? Who are the Galra?"

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What this Subject can remember?

"Remembers being inside. Pod. Before the Subject is awake. Not see. Can't... breathe. Uhm, uhm... around, uhm, in..."

How to explain?? He squeezes his eyes shut until there's tears.

Points at tears.

"In! Thing like that! Like that."

He means liquid, but doesn't know the word for it, any word like it.

And the question about the Galra gives him pause, until after a moment, he, Subject Yani points at Mantis and says,

"Galra is a bit like that. Like Mantis. Not this same Mantis. Similar??? That. Galra soldiers. Galra Druids. That. Vrepit sa. Empire."

Subject Yani winces and rubs his head suddenly, moaning a little, apparently from pain.

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The wall works, so Tommy has no problems, there. No problems at all.

The young man suddenly doubles over in pain, wailing, crying, and sobbing. The imbalance throws him and he keels over, suddenly.

If Tommy wants to try and see what's going on inside the young man's mind, well, it's all very easy to see. The foreign presence trickles through the mental bond between it and the new mind. The young mind threatens to collapse in on itself, really, it has no barriers. It's like it's folding.

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He was looking at the other presence, curious because it didn't feel human or Anthean. An unknown alien presence was both fascinating and eerie. Tommy would have been ok had it not been the spike in emotions and pain from the person who he was mentally attached to.

The reflex of an Anthean in pain is to project, to shove away the cause. Because he was looking so intently at the boy before the pain it is hard to determine if he's being hurt or it's the human. One thing is clear to Tommy, humans can't hurt people this way so it is the alien presence that gets the reflexive shove.

Though he's not prone to attacking anyone even in self defense, he will push at people and that is what is happening here. With that push comes the flare of nausea and soul crushing pain that Anthean's feel in the presence of violence laid on others, on themselves. He can't control this part at all even as he tries to maintain the buffering between his mind and whatever the offending presence is. It has him sinking to the ground and blindly flailing for some way to brace the impact. His partial blindness is making it hard to find something to grab or see how close the ground is.

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The alien presence gets pushed away successfully for now.

The young man gets to his hands and knees, shakily, and looks like... yes, he should vomit and he's choking on his own vomit. Because he was trying to swallow, but he couldn't.

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Tommy isn't much help as he's near passing out himself. He does have enough wear withal to make sure the boy/man is either on his side of face down so that he doesn't drown in vomit. Mary Lou had gotten sick like this once from too much drinking so he had a vague idea what to do for a sick human.

His own body is pained and shaking but it's nothing new. One benefit of years of torture was the way pain faded to the background and became easy to ignore.

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After a while, his body seems to calm down enough. He gets to his knees, and, while kneeling, and trembling a little, he wipes his face with a sleeve.

He looks around, disoriented. He squints, as he adjusts to seeing again, in the physical reality, though if anyone asked him, he wouldn't know or understand that. For a moment, as far as he can see, everything is black and white, when it comes to colours, but maybe that's just how it is, he won't question it.

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