A/N: I know this isn't the most popular game especially for fanfics, but I thought I'd give this idea a shot for two reasons. One, there isn't really much that covers this. Two, I wanted to try my hand at a contest. I also think the game's story is actually pretty interesting. For fans of the game, fans of the story in it, or just people who're reading this out of curiosity, I hope you enjoy.
George Maxwell had everything. Money, power, intelligence, and a high position. It wasn't just any position, however. It was supposed to be his position. He was supposed to become the lead scientist, not Maxwell. He was among Memorial's best-no, he was the best. Nobody could outdo any of his research. Until that uppity bastard showed up and snatched the rug out from under him. Where he faltered in his research Maxwell continued on, where he failed Maxwell succeeded, and where he aimed Maxwell shot. And he didn't miss.
Allen Hale and Philip Tate were two of the best technicians at Memorial Pharmaceuticals Research Lab. Heck, Tate was the Lab Director. The two of them were the greatest minds the place had ever seen. Their research saved lives and people-hospital patients and scientists alike-practically begged for the duo's work to assist them in their troubles. They were seen as heroes. Then one day Maxwell appeared. Allen remembered it quite clearly. The day that disgusting excuse for a man came into his life was forever etched into his memory.
He and Philip had been studying some new form of bacteria that seemed to cause some sort of mental illness. Currently, they were exchanging notes to see if they could come up with anything that could neutralize its effects. As they were discussing some possibilities a fellow technician came in and told them the news.
"Did ya hear? There's some new guy here. He's supposed to be some sort of science genius. Apparently he thinks he's capable of doing the work of at least five of us." Allen scoffed. What arrogance for a rookie. Who did this man think he was?
"Is he really that good, Mark?" He looked at Philip. Surely he didn't believe any of this nonsense.
"Oh, come on. You don't really think that's true, do you?" Allen asked snidely. Philip looked at Allen with surprise.
"Well... I suppose it is a bit far-fetched," he said, still taken aback by his friend's tone.
"Of course it is! Honestly, who would be capable of such a thing?"
"George Maxwell thinks he is," Mark replied. "I saw a glimpse of his work and as much as I hate to say it, you two had better watch out." Allen merely rolled his eyes. Mark shrugged. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."
"Are you suggesting that some rookie could possibly surpass Philip's and my work?" Allen set down the papers and turned to face Mark with a stern expression. Philip, deciding to play the mediator, stepped in before any problems arose.
"Calm down, Allen. There's no need to get so angry over this. If this guy's really as good as he says he is then it's best we continue with our work and stay ahead. After all, we've got years of experience under our belts. Mark," he said, facing him now. "I think it's best if you just focus on your work." The implied 'Get Lost' worked as the scientist huffed and left the room.
"George Maxwell, honestly," Allen grumbled.
"What was that?"
"Don't you know who that man is?"
"Maxwell...? Now that I think, it sounds very familiar. He isn't-"
"A member of the noble Maxwell Family? Yes, he is. But what he's doing here is beyond me." Allen stared down at the notes in front of him. They weren't anything groundbreaking but he and Philip would likely be able to create something useful out of them in due time.
"Don't tell me you're worried." When Allen didn't respond Philip placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small shake. "Maxwell's family isn't known for scientists. There's no need to worry. We've created so many great things ranging from antibiotics to cures for previously unknown diseases. But why am telling you this? You already know."
"You're right." Allen patted his friend on the back before putting the notes back together. "Maxwell's not going to be a problem. Not at all." Just to be safe though, he and Philip made certain that those notes were never seen by another person other than themselves. He didn't consider Maxwell a threat, at least not at first, but he wasn't taking any chances. And he found out the hard way how wrong he was.
It all started with a little curiosity. Three days after Maxwell was brought in everyone was talking about his work.
"This guy's brilliant!"
"He's much better than Allen."
"Better watch out, Hale. Maxwell's got a lot more skill than you."
Allen Hale, who was sick and tired of all this 'false' praise, decided to see for himself how great this man was. So he secretly waited outside Maxwell's own lab until he left. Once the other man had rounded the corner at the end of the hall he went inside and began searching. His first stop was the small stack of notes left on the table. As he skimmed through them he had to admit: Maxwell was much more intelligent than he had thought. He was already on the verge of creating several new vaccines that would be much more effective than his. However, this couldn't be all. Allen had the feeling that this wasn't the only thing George Maxwell was working on. When he first saw the man he had a bad feeling about him. He had heard rumors about the Maxwell Family dabbling in black magic and the occult. And then there was the supposed 'Maxwell Curse' that everyone had been talking about for a while. Allen wasn't certain if any of this was true and didn't really want to find out, but he had the slightest hunch that Maxwell may very well be scheming something. It was this hunch that prompted him to dig deeper. He looked through every drawer and file he could get his hands on and hadn't found anything of interest so far. His search had yielded nothing but undeniable proof that the other man was truly a science genius. That is, until he came across Maxwell's satchel deliberately buried under his coat and balled up papers. Allen quickly grabbed it and started rummaging through it as fast as he could. He had no clue how much time he had until he was found, so he hurried.
And then he froze completely. In his bag, Maxwell kept some of the most disturbing research he had ever seen. "Cerebral Toxin..." he muttered. "What in the world..." Maxwell appeared to be interested in creating some sort of parasitic bacteria but his reasons were completely unknown to him. The notes listed information on previously failed experiments. What really rattled him though, was that the data was from human subjects. Humans. All Allen could think about was telling the other scientists.
"Care to explain what you're doing?" He whirled around to see none other than Maxwell himself.
"Care to explain what you're doing?" he responded. Maxwell quirked a brow.
"What I'm doing," he said, "is questioning why you're in my lab, snooping through my research. You aren't trying to steal anything, are you?" Maxwell's tone was condescending and snide until he noticed the papers still in Allen's hands. "What have you done?" He snatched the papers from him and shoved them back into his satchel.
"I haven't-I mean, what have you done? What is that?" Now that his shock had worn off he was becoming increasingly angry.
"It's none of your concern. Now," he said, facing Allen, "I think you should leave." Maxwell's intense glare was practically willing the senior scientist out of the room. However, he had no intentions of going anywhere.
"You expect me to just turn a blind eye to this?" He was almost fuming now. How could he possibly ignore this? For all he knew, the man was planning to kill them all.
"I expect you to keep your mouth shut, like the intelligent man you are. Now if you would be so kind as to leave." He gestured to the door and Allen complied. He had no other choice but to do so. He couldn't tell anyone about his discovery without proof or they'd just say he was jealous and spreading rumors. If he got in a struggle with Maxwell to steal the papers it was likely that it wouldn't end well. So he did the only thing he could and left. When he reached the door he stopped and turned to face the other scientist.
"I hope you know that whatever you're trying to get away with won't work. I'll make certain it doesn't." The response he received was a chuckle and a small nod of mock acknowledgement. As he walked down the corridor he suddenly felt frightened of what that man may have been capable of. He really should have stolen some of those notes while he had had the chance, as Maxwell made sure he never left any personal belongings lying around ever again.
Within the week Allen Hale had been all but ousted from his position. Maxwell's research was far better than his and Philip's. It was like nothing any of them had ever seen. The advancements made in Memorial's data and medicine were all because of him. People were no longer looking to Allen Hale and Philip Tate, they were asking George Maxwell. Philip, being the Lab Director, was reasonably safe from losing his job. But Allen? He was screwed. He had sealed his fate after his first encounter with Maxwell and his secret research. He'd first went to tell Philip about what he'd found a couple days after it occurred.
"Are you telling me the truth, Al?" Philip Tate was sitting at his desk sorting through some paperwork when Allen had come in rambling about some hidden research Maxwell was secretly conducting.
"Of course I am. Why would I lie?"
"Well, it just seems so-I don't know-strange. Are you sure you didn't make a mistake? You could've just misread it."
"I know what I saw, Philip. Maxwell's up to no good."
"What do you think it is, then?"
"How should I know? I'm a scientist, not a psychic."
"Well, if you're so sure about this then maybe you should try to find some proof. Why don't you just take it to the police?"
"I tried to get proof, some evidence of what he's doing. However, he's made sure not to leave anything incriminating lying around now. There's nothing that supports my claim." Allen was a little stunned at Philip's lack of concern. He didn't even seem to care about Maxwell, let alone his fear that he was trying something. First he accuses him of lying, and now he all but tells him to fend for himself.
"Listen, Allen. I'll keep a good lookout for you and see what I can do, but in the meantime I think it'd be best if you just left Maxwell alone. You really have no idea what that man is capable of." Philip's eyes held a silent plea that his friend would listen to his words. Allen was about to comment on it when the topic of their conversation walked into the room. Maxwell sneered upon seeing Hale and Philip started hurriedly ushering him out while explaining that he and Maxwell were only going to discuss some lab business. Nothing more. As he passed the man he was beginning to hate perhaps more than anything, he threw him a disgusted look and left. He was up to something, and Allen Hale was determined to find out what it was.
He ended up getting fired two months later. However, it wasn't just because he was outshone by Maxwell's own brilliance. He had been snooping around too much for the man's liking and dug his own grave. Hospital patients had been mysteriously disappearing or dying and no one could figure out why or how. At first they seemed in full health or on their way to that point, and then all of a sudden something would go wrong. They'd wind up dead. Not murdered, not suicide, just... dead. Or missing altogether. It was random and there was no explanation. Not a single person had the slightest clue why it was happening, until Maxwell spoke up. That damn Maxwell had completely destroyed everything he lived for with his selfishness and lies. Allen had been in the lab conducting an experiment on the bacteria that he was only now beginning to understand when Maxwell walked in.
"What do you think you're doing? Can't you see I'm busy working here? Now stay back before you end up getting contaminated or ruining the whole thing." It was no secret that Allen wasn't particularly fond of the other man. Ever since he started working there he was rather snide towards him and it had only gotten worse with time.
"I think it'd be best if you quit now, Hale. Before anything ugly should come up." Maxwell wasn't exactly playing favorites when it came to the man across from him either.
Allen turned around to face him. Was that a threat? "What do you mean by that?" he asked, glaring at him.
"I mean you should just stop your work right there and find a new job. Soon, I might add."
"Hmph. And if I don't?" Allen put on a tough front, but the look in George Maxwell's eyes was sending chills down his spine. He had always gotten a bad feeling from the guy but could never quite understand why. At first, he thought it was simply due to his utter disdain for him. Then he figured it was because of what he'd been doing in secret. Now that he was the target of such a gaze, however, he suddenly felt it was for other reasons.
"Listen, Hale, while you still have an opportunity to do so. It really would be for the best if you left." His tone became firmer and his gaze hardened. Allen had to fight to suppress a shudder. "It isn't anything personal," he said with a sneer. "Just take this as some friendly... advice. Or a warning."
"Warning?!" Allen, despite his efforts not to, raised his voice. Who did this guy think he was talking to? He was one of the most brilliant scientists there! "You think just because some of your research is speeding ahead you can just become the boss of everyone? I've been working here for years! I-"
"Have probably run out of fruits for your labor, yes." Maxwell didn't bother to hide the slight smirk that formed upon seeing Allen's increased anger. "You may have been Memorial's best, but I far exceed you. My research is profound and my data is actually of use to people. Yours is, well, outdated. Take your little experiment for example." He gestured to the table Allen had set up. "You're still trying to comprehend that when there's no longer people suffering from it anymore. Pointless really. If only you put that kind of devotion and effort into something that actually mattered."
"What did you just say?!" His shout was ignored as Maxwell had already turned and was making his way to the door.
"You're a smart man, Hale. I hope you'll make a wise decision, for your sake." With that, George Maxwell left Allen Hale to fume in peace and quiet.
Bang!
Allen had slammed his fist on the table in pure anger. "Dammit! Who does that asshole think he is?!" He stood there hunched over and taking deep breaths to calm himself down. When he finally did he looked over at his work. It wasn't really pointless, was it? Suppose another outbreak occurred? Then what? He sighed and sat down in a nearby chair. "It can't really be pointless. My research is just as important as anyone else's. Besides, there's nothing he can do to make me lose my job. He's the one who should be worried. Once I find out what he's been doing I'll take him down." Rubbing his temples he sighed again. "Yes. I've nothing to worry about. Nothing at all." If only he knew just how worried he should've been.
A week later saw Allen practically chased out of Memorial. Maxwell had framed him for the mysterious deaths of patients. He said that Allen was doing horrible things to them. Drugs, torture, experiments, the works. According to him and his 'proof' Allen had secretly been bringing patients to the lab and testing all sorts of serums on them. This was absolutely false, however no one believed he was innocent. Somehow-and Allen hated to think of the methods Maxwell could've used-he managed to convince everyone of his guilt. Of course, this wasn't the type of thing a place like Memorial Pharmaceuticals Research Lab wanted people to know about. To avoid any public scrutiny they kept the police out of it and simply fired the senior scientist. The cover story was that due to Maxwell's more advanced research they no longer needed Allen Hale. He was useless. And, in a way, it was sort of the truth. They didn't need him there anymore. Nobody relied on him for anything, so he was stuck trying to follow his own work and nothing more. Philip had hardly spoken to him after that mysterious talk with Maxwell and at first he wasn't quite certain of the reasons, but after confronting him about the current ordeal he suddenly had all the answers he needed.
"Philip. It's been a while." Allen had come across him in his office going over some papers.
"Oh. Allen." He obviously didn't want to talk but the other man was sick and tired of this game. "Listen, I'm really busy right now and you still have to gather all your materials and leave, so..."
"Don't even try that. I've already cleared out all my work and was just about to go. There was just one thing I wanted to clear up."
"Look, I-"
"What's Maxwell got on you?" The question took Philip by surprise and for a few moments he said nothing. "Well? He must have done something. Surely you don't believe that I'm the one who's killed all those people?"
"Of course I don't," he sighed. "It's just... well... there isn't really anyone else it leads to. I'm sorry, Al."
"So you do think I did it."
"No, I really don't."
"Then what are you trying to say?" He slammed both his hands on the table, startling his friend and former co-worker.
"I-I don't have any way to defend you. You saw the proof Maxwell had. How am I supposed to help you when I don't have a way to discredit him? People can't just go on my word."
"I know. I'm sorry." Allen straightened up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew Maxwell was lying about more than just his 'proof', and from the looks of it so did Tate.
"I know how much this really hurts you, Allen. I'd love to help you, I really would, but I can't. Maxwell's very intelligent, and his skills go outside of just medical science."
"That reminds me," he said, removing his glasses and fixing his dull yet stern gaze on the man in front of him. "What did Maxwell and you 'discuss' those couple months ago?"
"What did we discuss? Well, I can't really remember but it was just lab business."
"Funny, how you can recall what it was about and nothing more." He was going to get an answer from him. Philip would have to call the guards and have them drag him out of there if he wanted to avoid talking.
"Allen, really, it was nothing. Just business, I assure you." Philip was evading the question in every way possible and that was when it clicked.
"I see," he said. He placed his glasses back on his face and began to make his way to the door. "Just business." As the door latched behind him he swore he heard Philip sigh in relief. If he had, then his theory was correct. Maxwell had forced his good friend and former colleague into something grotesque. It was something so horrible and disgusting that it made Allen want to throw up. That sick and twisted man was using the hospital patients as test subjects for his own research. And he had forced Philip Tate into helping.
