Howdy, y'all! How're ya doin'? This story that you're going to read marks two firsts for me: it's my first Guilty Gear fiction, and pretty much my first story written in the first-person. I'm a whole lot more comfortable with third-person (if you want to read my Final Fantasy X fiction, email me at trillfiles@comcast.net… for some reason, FFN gets the format wrong so I'm not posting it here) but I wanted to try and broaden my technique. This story is from the point of view of the man who would eventually become Sol Badguy, and chronicles the Gear Project… hope you enjoy it!
Outrage
Chapter One"Frederick?"
I closed my eyes tightly, trying to ignore the soft voice. "I don't want to wake up. Go away, I'm tired. I've been working all night."
Much to my dismay, the voice didn't quit. "Come on, Frederick, it's almost five in the morning."
"Mercy… five in the morning? I've only been asleep for an hour and a half! Why the hell are you waking me up at five in the goddamn morning?"
"The Man wants a full status report by seven, that's why."
That got me up. I opened my eyes in shock. Throwing the covers off, I swung my legs out of the bed, grimacing as the icy air came in contact with my skin.
"Goddamn, Mercy…" I growled. "Turn the heat up, will you?" I rummaged around on the floor in the darkness, and finding a pair of (hopefully) clean pants, I pulled them on. "Are we in Antarctica or what? It's freezing!"
"Can't. It's not in the budget." Mercy flicked the light on as I hurriedly buttoned up my shirt. My assistant was already dressed smartly in her lab coat, her short-cut red hair matching her outfit beneath perfectly. She was impeccably groomed as usual. I looked down at my own badly wrinkled white pants and gaudy yellow shirt, and should have felt embarrassed. But there wasn't any time for that
My coat was hanging on a hook near the doorway that lead out of my small dormitory, right next to the table where I kept my glasses and the ever-so-important filepad. I was less likely to forget any of them that way. Pulling my socks on, I hopped over to the table and picked up my glasses. The slightly blurry world came into focus as I slipped them onto my face.
The digital clock that hung over the small group of drawers that were laughably referred to as a dressing cabinet was displaying the time 5:07 in harsh, blood red numbers.
Due at seven o'clock? Shit. I had to prepare an entire report for the Man in slightly less than two hours. At that moment, I was positive that God hated me. "Any idea why he wants a report?"
"None," Mercy shook her head, pulling my long white lab coat off the hook and handing it to me. I put it on, thankful for the extra warmth it provided. "But I do have some good news." She said as I picked up the small filepad from the table.
I brushed some of my thinning brown hair from my eyes, and raised an eyebrow at her. "And the good news would be?"
Mercy winked at me. "The computer's up and running, I've got a pot of coffee ready, and I managed to 'borrow' a space heater from Chen's boys. So writing the report shouldn't be TOO physically painful." She turned and walked into the hallway. "So let's get cracking, Dr. Angheiz!"
Grinning, I followed her. "What would I do without an assistant like you, Mercy?"
"Probably sleep in a lot more, that's for sure."
"True, true." I shivered as I walked down the hallway. It was even colder out here than it was in my room. "Jesus… the Board can pay us billions and billions to develop these so-called 'bioweapons,' but can't shell out a thousand bucks to install decent heating?"
"I thought it was all about the work."
"Not at five in the morning."
* * *
I paced the computer lab, completely empty of anyone else at this time of day, dictating to Mercy as she typed up the report. "Subject: One Three Echo-Alpha. 'Felis Leo,' Male. Four years old when experimented on, captured at age two in southern Kenya. Weight when experimented on: 312 kilograms. Initially reacted hostile to research team, but after four months, seemed to have adjusted—"
Mercy cut me off, her voice suddenly trembling. "This was Charlie, wasn't it?"
Surprised, I looked up from the filepad. My assistant was sitting straight up in her seat, rapidly clenching and unclenching her hands. She was shaking, slightly. Mercy turned and softly lowered her eyes. "You're talking about Charlie, aren't you?"
I was at a loss for words. Unable to do anything else, I merely nodded. "Yeah… er… well, yes, this… this is Charlie."
About a year and a half ago, one of our many specimen teams had brought a lion to the Project to be a research specimen. At first, the animal had mistrusted my team, but eventually, he learned to accept us. Because of an unusual black marking on his stomach and back shaped like a zig-zag, we nicknamed him Charlie Brown, or 'Charlie' for short.
One of the first things you are taught as a scientist is to never feel anything for your animal subjects, never pity them, never get angry with them. They are data, nothing more. If you come to care for one, well… affection can compromise your work, can ruin your project.
The vast majority of the animals scientists work with aren't physically appealing to most, so this dictum is generally seen as unnecessary, especially among more inexperienced researchers. However, even a skilled team such as mine can fall prey to it.
Somehow, my team couldn't help liking Charlie. Somehow, we found ourselves actually caring about him. But somehow, we couldn't stand up to the Man.
Tricolomine, the chemical essential to the fusing of Magic to DNA, can be lethal if applied incorrectly, or if too much is given. Charlie was to be an experiment, nothing more. Before the final step of the Project—transforming a human or even creating a fusion from scratch—was to be performed, we needed all the practice and research we could get. My team had performed the process on many other subjects, and this one would be no different. So we tranquilized the lion, and administered the Tricol.
…I don't like to think about what happened next. I had assigned Mercy, as my personal assistant and aide—as well as my group's resident chemist—to give Charlie the substance. However, because she found herself caring about him so much, and because she knew of Tricol's lethal potential, she only gave him half the recommended dosage.
When we began the magic infusion, Charlie began to mutate, like they all do. That in itself was bad enough, but something went wrong. There was not enough Tricolomine in the lion's system to properly bond the magical energy to his DNA, and it caused a massive cellular breakdown.
I think a little part of me died that day along with the lion we had come to know as Charlie Brown. But poor Mercy suffered the worst… she blamed herself for what had happened, but in reality, we all were at fault. The magic voltage had been too high, the equipment hadn't been fine-tuned… yet despite all of this, Mercy kept on taking all the responsibility upon herself.
I don't think she ever forgave herself for that, before the end.
She was shuddering now, staring at the floor. Feeling helpless, I put the filepad down next to the computer and knelt down in front of her. Her blue eyes were teary, and refused to look anywhere but at her feet. I softly patted her shoulder and stroked her fiery hair, feeling more than a bit awkward.
"Don't worry…" I whispered in what I hoped was a soothing tone. "Why don't you go catch some sleep? You look exhausted." She looked up at me, and the pain in her eyes struck something deep within me, like a punch in the gut… "I'll finish the report by myself; it's almost done anyway. Go get some rest."
Mercy nodded silently, and got up from her chair. "Thank you," she whispered. Still shivering, she avoided meeting my gaze, and turned to leave. I watched her walk away, but suddenly she pivoted to face me.
"Dr. Angheiz…Fredrick…" she whispered. "Do you think what we're doing is right?"
I must have looked like an imbecile, opening and closing my mouth noiselessly. I was a scientist, that's all that mattered to me. Right, wrong, they were for lesser men to debate… but was that just blinding me to the fundamental problem at hand?
I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. She must have accepted my silence as my response, however, because she sighed softly and walked away.
After Mercy had vanished down the corridor, I got back up and sat at the computer, finishing the report and trying not to look at the pictures attached to File One Three Echo-Alpha.
My work was all that mattered. This was to be my finest project. But the nagging seed that the pain in Mercy's eyes had planted kept pestering me, whispering from the dark depths of my mind.
Was the Gear Project nothing more than a horrible mistake?
* * *
My name is Dr. Frederick Angheiz. I was born in a small town in New Jersey, the only child of two wealthy German immigrants. I never wanted for material possessions, and my parents always were insisting that their son be cultured, resulting in quite a few years of unwanted instrument lessons. I think they finally got the clue and let me drop the piano when I nearly attacked my teacher after he told me I was playing horribly.
That was something that got me in trouble a lot when I was younger: my temper. I was always right, and anyone who disagreed with me was always wrong—and I was willing to back up my conviction with my fists. Looking back on it, I feel sorry for my parents, who put up with phone call after phone call from my teachers, complaining that I was getting into too many fights.
The fact that I've always loved fire didn't help either. There's always been something about its ever-changing nature, its impermanence that has fascinated me since I was a toddler. Fire can give and heal, and fire can take away and destroy.
My love for fire and my rash temper caused my parents to give me the nickname 'Feuer,' which means 'Fire' in German. I was their fire, their flame. I kept the nickname with my friends until high school, when I finally started to mature and to calm down.
In high school, I was finally able to apply myself to the one thing I really loved: science. It was my passion. During high school, I took every single one of the offered science courses, and studied for hours every day. In fact, my teachers were actually forced to create new classes for me, because I surpassed all my peers by leaps and bounds.
When I went off to college, my Advanced Biology professor was a man by the name of Professor Richard Hunter. He led the research team that discovered Magical Science during my sophomore year, in 2010, so naturally, he was a very learned man. Before long, my passion helped me become his star pupil, then his protégé, and finally his friend.
I took so many extra courses during college, both with Prof. Hunter and with others, that I was able to get my doctorate in Biology and Genetics at the same time that most college students receive their diploma. Having a recommendation from the most famous science professor in America didn't hurt, either.
Six months after I had graduated, Professor Hunter called me up, inviting me to join a team he was leading to work on some new project, as his personal assistant. Naturally, I jumped at the chance.
The client for the project was a man named Kurai Sozoka. He was a Japanese scientist who represented a group known only as the Board of Directors, who were financing the entire project.
When Hunter, the team, and I met Sozoka in person at the Board's private research facility in southern Russia, we were surprised to see we weren't the only team there. I recognized some of the more famous scientists, like Tai-ping Chen, the world's leading geneticist, and Molotu Wata with his team of chemists. The Board had spared no expense in bringing the top scientists in the world together for this project.
The purpose of the mysterious project, Sozoka explained, was to create a series of weapons to help 'maintain the peace in the world.' Several scientists objected, saying that they were scientists, not simple gunsmiths. The collected scientific minds in the room had no idea how to make weapons, they had argued. I still remember the smirk on Sozoka's face as he clarified his earlier statement: we would be making living, biological, weapons.
Sozoka and the Board wanted to take human and animal DNA, mix it together, and infuse it with Magical Science to create a superbeing. The first experiments would not be truly powerful, being initial tests, and would be based off of animals. The second mix would be full strength, and would feature mutated humans. The third breed would be created from scratch, mixing both animal and human characteristics. When some of the scientists raised concerns about these superweapons revolting and destroying humanity, Sozoka insisted that one of the specifications for the experiment was that the bioweapons be developed without free will, so they would follow orders blindly.
With a few exceptions, who felt that playing God was beneath them, all the scientists in the room agreed to work on this project, feeling that it was something monumental and important. The name that had been chosen for the creatures we would be making, which was also the project name, was 'maGic-Enhanced Alpha-soldieR.' I don't think there was a single person in that room who didn't think it was a horrendously stupid name, so we ended up using the acronym that the Board provided for us: 'GEAR.'
* * *
Because of his expertise with Magical Science, Professor Hunter was placed in charge of the entire project, just below Sozoka and the Board. Since I was only his personal assistant, I didn't command a fraction of the admiration that he did, but my abilities were still respected by most of the scientists. And the first day that we began work, I knew in my heart that the Gear Project would shape my life.
Even though I had quite a few duties to perform as his assistant, the Professor gave me many tasks to carry out on my own, like everyone else. He did, however, help me compensate for the difficulty of my assignments by supplying me with my very own team of workers.
There were five of us, all told. The tall, bulky, and bearded Vladimir Petrovsky was actually a local man, despite being one of the best in his field. He was an absolutely brilliant computer technician, hired to keep our delicate systems functioning smoothly. He was one of the few members of the Project who was not an official scientist, and tended to keep to himself. The people in my team were pretty much the only ones Vladimir ever talked to, and we considered him a close friend.
Louis Duchamps, on the other hand, was Vladimir's polar opposite. He was a loud, outspoken, extremely tenacious Frenchman who specialized in Biology, specifically neuroscience. He had many faults, but despite them all, was rather likeable—when he wasn't being overly critical of everything and everybody around him.
The Chinese man, Ho Yuen, was both a geneticist who had studied under Dr. Chen, and an amateur—though quite skilled—electrical engineer. His English wasn't that great, but he spoke flawless Russian, and so he had help in communicating from Vladimir. Yuen and the reserved Vladimir became fast friends because of necessity, but they stayed that way because they were very much alike. When compared to Vladimir, Yuen was a bit more outgoing, but he also was very reserved and polite.
Finally, the fifth member of our team was assigned to us by Professor Hunter as a liaison to Dr. Wata's team of chemists. She was from Ireland, and was a genius when it came to chemistry. Her name was Mercy Reilly, and I appointed her as my own personal aide and assistant, just like I was to the Professor. Mercy was an energetic girl, usually very optimistic. She was easily emotionally hurt, but usually bounced right back before she let it get to her. And she was pretty. Jesus, was Mercy pretty.
She had these soft blue eyes that glistened like water when you looked into them. They were deep, soulful eyes that, when coupled with her smile, made you feel cared for and respected and understood all at once. I'd never before seen that quality in a girl—or in anyone, really, and it made it all the more appealing. Mercy wore her hair short, cut like a boy's, but it didn't make her any less attractive.
Before long, the members of my team had dropped titles, and we were on a first-name basis. Granted, it wasn't the most conventional team, but we got along well and worked together even better. We were always ahead of schedule, and that didn't go unnoticed.
Somehow, Sozoka managed to convince Professor Hunter to let me go from his group—a situation that saddened both of us, but I was too busy caught up in the thrill of discovery to care. Because I had been apprenticed to the Professor and was therefore the second most proficient scientist in the entire Project when it came to understanding Magical Science, my team became the leading experimental group.
There were people who were upset about this, of course; there were people who were more experienced than I was and who felt that they deserved it. However, once Sozoka had decided something, the decision was final. That's how he became to be known as 'the Man.'
Six months after the Gear Project was started, my team produced the first fusion. Although the animal that had been a wolf died shortly afterwards, the experiment was pronounced a success. We continued experimenting, continued practicing, and reached the point where the transformation, if successful, was no longer fatal to the creature.
That had been a year ago. I walked down the sterile, well-lit corridor to the lift that would take me to the Man's office, holding the report in my hands. The cogs in my head whirred as I tried to figure out what reason Sozoka could have for requesting an urgent status report like he had done.
One by one, I pared down the possibilities until there was only a single scenario left. This realization sent cold chills up and down my spine. The Man had wanted to see how the experimental team was faring, if they were up to par. It could only mean that the Gear Project was about to enter the next stage.
If the report I had in my arms were satisfactory… the next experimental subject would be human.