Ch. 4: Jecovo's Insanity
Bash had no idea how long he waited for Jecovo to arrive. But when he did, it was nothing like how most would expect.
A tall, yet lanky and scruffy elf dressed in a labcoat and carrying a massive pile of papers and cases and such rushed into Bash's restricted line of vision. The papers wobbled as if they were in a cartoon before the scientist set them down. The strangest thing was, he didn't look at all like the scary, malevolent face that had terrified the young dragonet so much on the screen. And he didn't look like he was wearing a shirt beneath his labcoat, and he was barefoot, so most would hope that he was wearing pants beneath the long, wavy coat-tails of his labcoat.
Dragons were naturally naked by nature, so Bash didn't even know what pants were.
"Are you Jehovah?" Bash asked, curious. He had misheard Jecovo's name, and, at two, his pronunciation wasn't great.
"No, as a matter of fact people have called me the opposite of Jehovah. Of course, after they did so, the vast majority never said anything beyond assorted animalistic calls again. Though some did retain the capacity for sentient speech, and I have yet to figure out why. Though many were hybrids between multiple sentient-speech-capable species, the kitsunes inlaced with griffin DNA made a very interesting combination, and one of my most successful yet. I, young dragon, am Alexander Burros Muertos Jecovo," Jecovo boldly pronounced, with a grand flourish of his right arm.
{AN Note: Run his full name through Google Translate; Spanish to English}
"That's a long name," Bash frowned.
"Indeed it is. The middle name comes from a far-off land, known as Spain. But that is not important. Tell me, young dragonet, why is it that you do not have wings?"
"I don't know, but mummy says that it doesn't matter if you have wings or not, as long as you're a good person," Bash explained.
"Yes, yes, doting mother talk, say anything to keep their kids happy, no matter how big a lie, blah blah blah, but do you know if there's a scientific reason for it? Or if it's just a random genetic mutation?" Jecovo pressed.
"Scienti - I not can say word," Bash frowned, his eyes wobbling.
"Should have known better than to expect competency from a wingless two-year-old dragonet," Jecovo muttered to himself in frustration. "Let's get started on the testing, then, shall we?"
Jecovo moved over to a control panel, which's contents were hidden from Bash's view. As he pushed a button, a long, telescope-like arm extended down and a needle at the tip of the arm pushed its way through Bash's scaly brown flesh and into his bloodstream. Bash started crying.
"Interesting. This is a very strange occurrence. Your genetic code describes that you were supposed to have wings, but don't," Jecovo frowned, and rotated a dial. The machinery holding Bash in place moved so that Bash was now pressed on the operating table on his chest, and his back was in the open air. Jecovo moved over and, grabbing a magnifying glass from a nearby table, carefully inspected Bash's strong back, where the tiniest of spiky ridges was starting to protrude from his spine.
"No obvious signs of surgery, they're just . . . . . not there. How strange," Jecovo sucked in air through his teeth. "How very strange indeed. Perhaps a cloning experiment might be in order, yes, that should reap very interesting rewards," He typed a couple of commands in, and Bash felt a jab of pain as the pointed nozzle that was still embedded in his shoulder sucked another pint of blood from his small, dragonet body.
Jecovo grabbed a bendy plastic tube that had been lying on the floor and plugged it into a socket in the side of the machine. The pint of blood that had been in Bash's veins less than a minute ago slid down it to an unknown destination.
"Well, I have a DNA sample, and a clone in the works. Normally this would be the part where I instil in you the DNA from another being, but your mismatched DNA is going to be interesting to watch develop on its own," Jecovo moved over to an intercom, and, in a voice very unlike the one he had been speaking in previously, shouted "Fletcher! Get your sorry arse up here right now and take this specimen back to its holding pen, with the magical mutant test subject. Unless you want your sorry arse, to become a furry arse. NOW!" He hollered the last word, then made a dash for the door he had entered from. "Can't let them see me, I always use a digitally modified head on my video chats with them, and put on a voice so that they think I'm really scary. It's genius! Like everything else I do, of course," he explained to Bash, who had spent much of the testing phase in a shocked silence.
A hastily slammed door and some dropped papers were the only evidence Jecovo had ever been in the room as Fletcher entered, actually looking scared. "Sir? Was - was that fast enough for you, sir?" the Drow asked, his voice betraying his fear.
Jecovo's false voice echoed throughout the room from unseen speakers. "Why are you standing around, you sorry excuse for an elf? Get moving, or when I'm done with you, you'll be moving as fast as that feline Mabu I infused with hummingbird DNA. And if that happens, you should pray that you survive longer than she did,"
Fletcher gulped. He remembered the result of that combination. A feline Mabu with green fur, a feathery crest, no teeth and the ability to move as quickly as sound. The problem with Jecovo's 'experiments' was that the mutations caused by the genetic splicing were usually unstable, resulting in deformities such as lungs that couldn't take in enough oxygen, hearts that didn't beat fast enough to sustain the blood-flow, stomachs that weren't connected to the intestines, and in a couple of particularly memorable cases when Jecovo had infused female kitsunes with snake DNA, an anus that wasn't connected to the rest of the body's systems. No matter what happened, it usually resulted in their deaths. The problem with this particular hybrid was actually that its heart beat too fast, which in turn resulted in the blood moving too quickly. It would have been survivable, a near permanent state of nausea but survivable, except that a tiny pinprick from a needle and her life-blood was gushing out of her like a fountain. The poor thing had bled to death in a matter of minutes.
But the amount of artificial hybrids that actually survived, and could have gone on to lead a decent life if not for being imprisoned in Jecovo's facilities was impressive. A large amount of the survivors had kitsunes DNA in the mix. There seemed to be something resilient about their DNA that allowed them to restore their bodily systems no matter what mutations were inflicted on them. Jecovo couldn't figure it out, but he had found that if he mixed kitsune DNA in with any other combination, they usually survived just fine.
Fletcher roughly shoved Bash back into his holding pen with Ballas. The rock dragonet landed painfully on the exposed flesh of his stomach and squealed in agony. "Shut up, you little bugger," Fletcher growled at him, the feline Mabu/hummingbird still on his mind.
The next thing he knew, he was being slapped in the face with Ballas' elastic tongue. "Mutants," he growled, stepping out and slamming the door behind him. "Henchmen," Ballas frowned at the closed door.
"You just met Jecovo for the first time, didn't you?" The mutant grub asked Bash, a tender understanding and compassion beyond his young years creasing his face. Bash dumbly nodded. "He said something about arty-fiscal hybrids. What does that mean?"
Ballas frowned, not sure how to explain it. "Well, you know about, like, hybrids between dragons and, say, griffins, or unicorns, or something like that?" Bash nodded, not sure where Ballas was going with this. "Well, what Jecovo is doing, is, for example, taking dragons that were born pure dragon, and turning them into dragon-griffin hybrids. For example. But he's doing that sort of thing with every creature in Skylands," Ballas explained.
Ballas was actually quite intelligent, just not intelligent as measured by elves and Mabu, and all of the other sentient species in Skylands. He was smart, but he was also somewhat like a dog, and the mental conflict tore his mind apart, so sometimes he acted intelligently, and sometimes like a dog. Ballas really hoped he could get it sorted out someday, it was somewhat annoying to be smart one minute and want to chase an airship for no reason the next.
"So, were you like that?" Bash asked, with a typical toddler abruptness.
"No. I don't know what I am. One of Jecovo's goons found me one day, brought me back here, and I've been here ever since. From what I picked up from them, I'm unique, nobody's ever seen anything like me and so they want to study me," Ballas sighed. "They say I don't even have DNA,"
"Whass DNA?" Bash asked.
'I really hope I never run into Alexander Buerros Muertos Jecovo. I shudder to think what he could do with my DNA. What he did with Flashwing's is bad enough.
Heh heh heh.
'What's so funny, Techie? And shouldn't you be getting your little girlfriend to be censoring Flashwing's name?'
Don't call me that. Riley is not my girlfriend. I can't date her unless I somehow get turned into a dragon, or a griffin, or something dragonoid. And do you know what Jecovo's full name is in English? Or Arstic, whatever.
'No. Why? Is it funny?'
Oh, heck yeah, it is. And because I'm a good friend, I'll let you get the sense of achievement when you find out for yourself.
'Wait, since when have we been friends?'
Well, you always come down to do the Author's Note with me.
'Okay, well, since we're such good friends, allow me to help you with your girl problems,'
{Gaiphe clicks her beak, Technow transforms into a white-furred griffin with blue-tinted feathers}
Okay, now I see where you were going with this.
'You're welcome, girlfriend,'
Firstly, I'm male, and secondly, we are in the middle of an Author's Note! This is not the time for this!
'Check again,'
{Technow checks her underbelly}
YOU CHANGED MY GENDER?! How is this supposed to help me with my girl troubles?
'If you're one of us, you'll understand us better,'
And how am I supposed to date girls if I AM a girl?
'Your problem, not mine,'
Why, you -
{Camera cuts to Riley}
"I'm sure we would all love to watch this for hours more, but Author's Notes can only be so long. So, peace!"
