"…shit…"
He had a bad habit of swearing under his breath. Illiop took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. For the last day or so he pored over the DNA of zerg and protoss. The project he was assigned to made absolutely no sense to him or his colleagues. For months the team of scientists unraveled the mysteries of their nightmares. Their only driving force was the foreboding future for their species if they did not succeed. But succeed in what?
All Illiop could think about was Mengsk's speech:
"Gentlemen, for years the terran race has been fighting amongst itself for control of this sector. We have gone through terrible times. Now we have united under the banner of the Dominion to secure our legacy. But! We have encountered enemies that now threaten our very existence! The corrupting zerg rip apart our families and the fanatical protoss slaughter without thought! We, as a race, must react quickly to prevent our doom. Though it seems the wrath of the swarm has disappeared, I feel that the worst is yet to come. I have not forgotten about the protection of the people. I will not lose sight of the well-being of the people.
This project is of the utmost importance. From the research of our enemies we can discover their weaknesses and create weapons to obliterate them with. I hope all of you are ready to commit yourselves. The fate of humanity rests upon your shoulders."
Of course. They, the team, were never going to know the real purpose of their research. Illiop Muilke put his glasses back onto his face and peered around the laboratory. The room, dimly lit except for the shining light of his own desk lamp, contained numerous stainless steel tables that were littered with instruments. Each piece of equipment sterilized for the countless dissections they conducted. He stood up and put his hands in his pocket. Now, the lab was empty except for a rather tall, lanky man that wore a perfectly white lab coat. Every month he and his team would get fresh lab coats. This allowed the team to forget the stains that would inevitably appear upon them. He wore an ID labeled:
Illiop Muilke
Research and Development
Access Level 7
Taking off the ID card, he stared at the picture of himself. His face was expressionless. The bags under his eyes had grown ever since the picture was taken and the wrinkles deepened. Bristles poked out of his unkempt, unshaved, sullen cheeks. However, behind his horn-rimmed glasses he had soft, deep, round, hazel eyes. They were full of life, but at the same time tired. The dark brown hair on his head was of mid length and swept to the side. Illiop was not a large man at the age of 32, but a man with a toned body that was tall yet awkwardly assembled.
He sat down and leaned back against the chair. Across his desk lie open files containing reports and photos of dissections of zerglings, hydralisks, zealots, high templar, and even the elusive dark templar. His holocomp displayed the latest test results from DNA samples taken.
"Maybe I should take a break and smoke," Illiop thought to himself. He reached into his desk and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A cigarette already in his mouth, he stood up to go outside into the cool night when his holocomp beeped. Stopping with a puzzled look on his face, he turned around to check what it was.