They always come here! How do they find me?!(open)

[david]

The scientist could never understand it. People always ended up in his lab, asking fir favors; he did get payed a handsome amount of money in the process; but how did these bothersome morons keep getting in? He know he had his lab sealed off from the public, buried deep down in the underground of his castle, but yet - here strangers knock on his laboratory door, asking for help. Did he look like everyone's pal, or something? He hated them all, hated therm, and yet they still came.

"This is the last straw!" Dexter growled, glaring deeply at his newest invention; clearly not finished. He was coming up with a new way to travel. His jet packs were becoming quite the hazard. Perhaps levitation was a better angle, hmm? The scientific doctor shook his head, running his gloved fingers through his red, fluffed out hair before he went back to his tools. "Maybe I should make guard bots more effective. Arm them with all sorts of deadly artillery. That way when someone comes by, they will be no more! Ha!"

Dexter blinked at that, staring curiously at his recent project and wondering if he should drop it to do just what he had been talking about. "Hmm...it will take quite some time. And money. I'd have to buy all those weapons; or buy more parts to make them. And i need those people to get the money," he grumbled to himself, stuck again as he cradled his head in his hands. "My life is an unending cycle of no escape."

And he couldn't go outside; not without some disguise or something; with his genius he feared someone would take him away and force him to work for them and turn him into some obedient little slave pet. Sometimes being a superior human didn't exactly hold a lot of good quirks.

Dexter took off is large blue tinted glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger to try and massage his growing migraine. He sighed deeply, suddenly feeling fire tired. He had been working all night; and now it was three o'clock in the afternoon. The young, short looking scientist got up out of his chair and walked along his lab - trying to clear his head as he placed his glasses back on. "There must be a way to keep myself secret...a cloaking device, maybe? Do I have all the right equipment?"

He shook his head and laughed in a bit of an egotistic fashion. "Of course I do! I practically have everything at my disposal! I am Dexter Oswald, a scientific anomaly of a genius! I'll figure something out eventually..." his mixed accent drawled from him as he spoke, cupping his hairless chin and rubbing it thoughtfully. "Now, all I need today is for no disturbances-" he cut off in a yawn and he sighed again. "So I can get some bloody sleep."

[thecrimsonraven]

Hazaar hadn't been much of a night owl when he was alive. He worked from dawn till dusk and that was that. Night was meant for sleeping and supping; not some endless pursuit of some impossible work flow. Or at least this is what he had thought before taking up his chosen vocation so many centuries ago. He still needed sleep; and often got his 8 hours, but always so erratically. The art and science of necromancy was something all about timing and the time at which that timing was timed. Today, however, was his day off. Usually he would spend such a day devoted to nothing but tended to his most pointless hobbies. As the list stands he'd manged to make a sandwich bigger then himself, paint a model army and run through the park cutting the strings from children's kites.

He'd been experimenting rather radically over the passed few days and was taking his last creation for a walk. Even dead muscles needed to be stretched, and this massive car sized canine created of various human body parts was no exception. He'd been taking the beast through his Vault corridors when suddenly he found a room he'd never bothered going into. The stark, clean laboratory seemed far more of metal and computers and high end technology then what he needed. He strolled through, letting the saber tooth necro-hound lead him on is vertebra lead. It sniffed the floors, contraptions and air like any old dog mite; old habits never dying it seems.

"Now what in the name of sin is all this? I don;t remember putting any of this in the Vault...do you?" Hazaar had given the hound a rhetorical question, the simple creature giving him a rather confused look. How could it have known when he;d only just created it yesterday? regardless of however confused it was, the breast just got back to sniffing the air for a scent as if no exchange had occurred. Hazaar continued giving the thing a furrowed look. "I really should invest in developing some sort of educated construct...of sanity's sake..." He stood there amidst flashing transceivers and coolant towers, keeping the hound tugging at his leash, while Hazaar rubbed the frustration from his tempts. What Hazaar wasn't aware of was that the door he'd just come through, which was by now shuffling it's shut, was in fact a back door out of his Vault...which just happened to end up in the very secret laboratory and a very tired fellow inventor.