Navier

   Navier tends to play fast and loose with their form but still retains a mostly humanoid shape, though they have a little difficulty keeping it "rigid."  Even after the "fix" they seem to have sadistic tendencies.  Of course, one wouldn't know this unless they spent a significant amount of time with them.  Outwardly, Navier projects a calm and sometimes cheerful disposition.

    They do their best to shift for clientele of various species, having extensively studied the biology of many for this purpose, but doing so requires making reservations as the energy required means they have to sleep a lot before and after the session. The amount of time needed varies depending on how much the species in question differentiates from their humanoid shape. Of course, they charge more for harder shifts.

   Navier is able to mimic the cheery can-do attitude that a lot of their clients tend to possess, but they mostly default to a monotonous candor.  This often lures in newcomers with a false sense of calm.  Navier takes great joy in their pain.

   Those who know better will attest that their sessions should not be attempted by amateurs.  

Here we have a first-hand account of someone who has experienced one of Navier's sessions.  Sent in by an ex-client.

   The folk number trailed off as we finished our stretches. That was a little intense for just stretching, but it did what it was intended to do.  I was loose and ready.  I still didn't understand why we had to spend weeks just memorizing the poses, but Navier had insisted that, "It is for your benefit that you do so."  Heck, I couldn't even figure out why the last session of this class had to take place at a location other than their studio.

    I was torn from my thoughts as my workout mat shook and started to rise through the ceiling.  Briefly locking eyes with some punk-looking dude with a mohawk and spiked leather outfit, I realized it wasn't stopping.  Up and up we rose until I could clearly see that guy was just one of many in the arena full of people below us.                                                                     

  "Oh.  What a shame."  The calm voice of our instructor sounded in my earpiece.  I looked around and saw that two of the mats were empty as four figures in white rushed to the base of the poles with stretchers.  They were easy enough to spot in the sea of excited black-adorned onlookers. "I suppose I should have warned you to hold on.  I apologize.  It slipped my mind." 

    This is what I signed that waiver for?!  Not "Oh I accidentally pulled a muscle. I'm gonna sue you now," but THIS?!   A significant amount of movement drew my attention.  Large sections of empty space were forming as the crowd backed away in circular formations, leaving incredibly wide empty spaces in the mass.  Whu- Are those fucking mosh pits?!

   An eerie silence fell over the arena as our instructor extended their arms outward.  A band at the ready on their own platforms behind them.  I swallowed hard.  Heat seared from pyrotechnics just under my mat as the band started to play and the instructor's arms rose skyward; we followed suit.                                                                  

 "Let's begin."

  I didn't hear Navier call the first pose through the music and the crowd, so I had to watch for their glow to see what we were supposed to do.  Shit. I always had trouble with this pose. Smaller mosh pits had formed at the base of our platforms and were jostling the unsteady structures as I scrambled to keep my balance.  I stretched my leg as far as it would go, but it wasn't enough.  A shock to my system forced my leg into the proper position.  Tears stung my eyes as I came to the horrific realization that the neuro nodes weren't there to moniter my well-being.                                                                                                                                                

   Damn near immediately afterwards we did the next pose and another. And another. Then six more.  We went through them so fast it felt more like dancing than yoga.  I heard what seemed like the hundreth snap as the person in front of me screamed before falling through the flames into the swirling vortex of bodies below, making me forever grateful I had actually learned the poses during the previous weeks and that the yellow glow of our instructor's hands and feet stood out so well against the rest of them. It made it easier to see what they were doing.  All the nodes had to do were make adjustments to my posture.                                   

The next pose was one that I'm pretty sure Navier invented.  There's no way anybody can stretch this far, but the nodes didn't care.  I don't how long the lag was set between Navier's movements and the nodes' activation.  It gave us a chance to at least attempt it.  I waited.  I knew it was coming.  I thought long and hard about my life and the decisions that led me to this moment.  With a jolt, the nodes pulled us into the pose, matching the instructor's positioning exactly.  My torso was behind me and all I could see was the heel of my foot.  I tried to focus on my breathing, but I knew this was the end. The final thing I can recall before the darkness took me was the massive muscular man on the mat closest to me shouting for more.

   Somehow, I made it.  Apparently the nodes kept me moving while I was unconscious.  Only divine intervetion could have kept me on that mat.  From what I heard about the finale I thanked every diety known to man I wasn't awake for it.  The paramedics stopped my stretcher at the exit where a glowing yellow hand was there to offer me something.  My prize.  The reason I put myself through this.  

 

  I clutched the pin to my chest as my stretcher carried on.  I couldn't move my head much because of the brace, but from the corner of my eye I could see that what was once an army of forty or so emergency vehicles had dwindled down to three.

   Navier's pins and buttons are worth a good sum of money amongst their followers due to their rarity.

   They have something of a symbiotic relationship with the cover bands who perform at their session finales.  Not many want to pay concert prices just to see a cover band for a group long dead, but the very real possibility of seeing some bloodshed brings the money pouring in.

 Plasmids are a closed species by beed.