Novel & Cerita Wally West Mobius Chair

--- They reached the central chamber - a vaulted atrium with concentric rings of server panels spiraling upward like the ribs of a mechanical beast. In the center: a chair. Lyra stopped cold. "I've dreamed of that chair since I was ten." Mirabel cocked her head. "Looks like an execution seat." Elodie pointed at the base. "No wires. No restraints. It's neural interface. It was made for her." Xavier pulled Bella gently aside. "I don't like this." "She's the only one who can do it," Bella said quietly. "She deserves to know what's inside."

I didn’t have time to analyze it because Wyatt walked into the room. “Lets get this party started then, shall we?” Wyatt said with a look on his face I hope I never see again. Looking at the rouges, they were ass naked and tied to metal chairs. “The chairs are made of pure silver” Maverick said with a smirk “Ouch” I said dragging the word out. “Can we not hear what they are saying” Maverick reached over and pressed a button on the wall and voices and screams filled the room. “I wasn’t sure if you could handle it” Maverick said smirking

I find myself staring at a stuffed animal the size of a golden retriever occupying the visitor's chair. The rest of the office matches the theme. There’s a changing mat on the mahogany side table. A bottle warmer plugged into the wall behind the desk. A pink muslin cloth draped over the arm of what I happen to know is a sixteen-thousand-dollar Eames chair. A travel cot wedged between the bookcase and the window, currently empty. The occupant of the travel cot is in Chase Warren's arms. Chase is standing behind his desk in a suit that probably cost as much as my office building, swaying slightly from side to side, holding a small pink bundle against his shoulder.

The place still smelled faintly of burned circuitry and antiseptic and rain that had got in where the ceiling failed. In the middle of it all, an office chair sat like a throne a child had dressed for a play—duct tape strapping two men back to back and hip to hip, ankles lashed to the chair’s base. Zak shifted and winced. “My back’s killing me,” he said. From his lap, Jasper groaned. “Your back? My arse is numb. Also, I think I’m sitting on something important.” “That’s my wallet,” Zak muttered. “I don’t think it is.”

"What functional difference does your anatomy represent if your wolf cannot even execute a straight path across a parking grid? If your stubborn pride rejects the carbon seat, my enforcers will happily provide a pair of titanium crutches to drag your weight through the corridors." After throwing a sharp, venomous glare directly into Lucien's amused eyes, my frame awkwardly drops onto the leather support cushions of the secondary wheelchair. The exact microsecond my thumb makes contact with the digital drive button on the armrest, the automated motor unleashes a massive surge of kinetic power, launching the chair straight forward on a collision track toward Lucien's chassis. Moving with light

It was a robotic chair that drove itself, and she wondered how much it cost to own one of those. The chair's wheels rolled smoothly on the floor and were moving in her direction. "Get out of my way," Jayden grunted, leaning onto the chair like it was a bed or a sofa, raising his towel-covered head to glare at her. "You can't go yet, Mr. Stanley." She voiced, almost pleading, and grasped hold of the armrests thinking that would stop the chair. But instead, the chair tilted more and Maria was propelled backward until she fell on her behind with an embarrassing thud.

An answer to my question is given when another man enters my room, this time pushing the most compact, futuristic electric chair I’ve ever seen. It’s really just a small seat on top of big tyres, there’s not much to it, and nowhere near as bulky or cumbersome as the kind you see the elderly use. It has a joystick control, black leather lining and white exterior. I glare at the contraption with clear disdain. I’m reduced to an electric wheelchair because they won’t just let me go. Can’t walk or do shit, but still expected to make an appearance. I’ll be a sitting duck.

"If you would kindly get our newcomers comfortable so I can go over the little presentation I have prepared for them. I would be ever so much obliged. Thanks so much." I watched as one Sentinel held onto the shoulders of each newcomer while the other Sentinel was sure to place one buckle on their lap. However, the buckle did not look like your average buckle. Once the lap belt was in place, the Sentinel standing behind them grabbed two straps that were placed there and the other Sentinel grabbed one which was hanging between their feet. All the buckles were fastened swiftly so there was no complaining or an attempt to get out of their chairs. The next part was my favorite. I moved my foot an

Mobius then unwrapped the red cloth to reveal the stark white phalange—the same one that Mr. Shrode had brought in last night. "This is the spiritron vein I would trade with you, Mr. Lawrence," Mobius then said nonchalantly. "I can even tell you how it works—it can regenerate any wound and any missing body parts." Frank narrowed his eyes at Mobius, words, his fingers touching the card Vicky gave him before he came. There was no mistaking it now, as the card had both the address of this hotel and a photo of what the Turnbulls' lost spiritron vein looked like.

A shiver went through me, and I had to bite my cheek to keep from begging him to do that again. My eyes looked from station to station growing bigger with each and every piece of equipment that I recognized. I looked over to find Jordan and Jack engrossed in a conversation about the carpentry on several of the items. The innovation and imagination that went into every piece seemed to impress them greatly. I looked at the piece in front of it and recognized it as a kneeling chair. It was designed for the sub to kneel and bend over the flat surface on top, presenting her backside at the perfect position for a spanking or other various torturing ideas.