Chapter 5: Memories
DJ launched off the back foot and rushed forward, roaring in a blind rage as he shoulder charged the behemoth. The GOL3M's body armor crumpled like paper, its legs giving way easily.
Taking the opportunity, DJ jumped up onto the mutated giant and charged Energy through his fist like normal. Only this time, the Energy sparked off harshly, leaving score marks on the concrete, and appeared a black instead of blue, more akin to the colour of Entropite.
A gut wrenching CRUNCH followed the rampaging Operative's fist caving through the armored helmet and skull of the Gol3m, followed by a small detonation within the helmet, leaving the mutant's head nothing more than a liquidated mess within the remaining helmet. Pulling his fist from the crumpled helmet, DJ began ripping the exposed body of the mutated giant apart with savage slashes of his talons.
Derek watched on in awe. Uncertainty from failed trial after trial of past subjects with the serum started to dissipate. This new rage with the mutation speed… triumph replaced old reservations.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant results! Get ready to send a report to-"
The stoic Agent tapped the Doctor's shoulder. "Sir. You may want to hold off on that report."
"What? Why?"
Derek followed the Agents hand back down to the one-way mirror. His ecstasy evaporated in an instant.
DJ had finally stopped tearing apart the corpse, but primal hunger took over as he ripped chunks of bloody flesh up and began devouring them. Blood pooled and soaked the surrounding area and painted him head to toe as he gorged himself on the remains.
Derek gripped the handrail until his knuckles turned white. The two Agents ventured down the stairs, albeit hesitantly, with a Soldat as backup. The stoic Agent lined up and took a shot with a tranquilizer dart.
The dart's metal needle shattered on impact with the thick, plated scales on the Operative's back. DJ rounded on them quickly, leaving a faint blood trail in the air behind him as he launched at his captors like a flash of red lightning.
The far more fearful Agent who had been delirious from his previous nausea had no chance to react. He met his fate, crumpled into a bloody, meaty mess on the reinforced wall beside the door. The blank faced Agent shot at DJ with the dart gun again out of instinct. A sudden rush of force and a ripping sensation left him gasping for breath, only to make a painful realization; DJ had ripped the man's lungs out.
The feral Operative descended on the suffocating Agent and tore his off his right leg, tossing it far across the room in rage. The Soldat, aim unhindered from the fiasco, shot at DJ with his FAL in the back, hoping it would have enough power to put him down. Karma had other ideas.
The bullet elicited a feral yipe and growl from DJ as it ricocheted off his densely packed scales. The bullet came flying back through the Soldat's forehead, leaving him dead the moment he hit the floor.
Turning on the deceased Soldat, DJ sent a taloned hand through the corpse's shoulder. He pulled back before lurching forward, chomping at the flesh and bone under the clothes and kit. A burning sensation crossed his mouth as his taste buds felt like they were on fire. Pulling back once more he spat out the foul yellow remains.
Derek sighed. "Guess the chemical upgrades on the Soldat's blood makes them inedible to him. I wonder if that spreads to the Engineers…"
Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his weary eyes and turned to Carson. "Gas the chamber. We will secure him overnight."
Wordlessly turning to the console behind them, Carson typed into the command line: EXE:GASPROTOCAL;2. A pale white mist began flooding the arena like heavy fog. Upon noticing the haze around him, the feral Operative began frantically looking for a way out.
Seeing freedom in the form of the door he had entered through, DJ got up and sprinted for the doorway. Five meters from salvation, he hit the ground like a sack of bricks, blood soaked and panting.
Carson sighed in relief. "Thank Christoff for Sinig's gas. We'd have to unload the whole armory onto that monster otherwise."
Turning to Derek, Carson found him staring through the glass once more, observing the Agents below. The Agent attempting to move DJ appeared to be having an extreme difficulty with even picking him up.
"Those scales of his have increased his dead weight dramatically. I recommend having Soldats handle him instead."
Derek grunted in agreement, wandering over to the console in the back.
"Sir?"
Derek readjusted his glasses, drawing a data disk from the console. "Yes, Carson? What is it?"
The Engineer glanced to the arena below; the remains of both GO3LM and unit alike were now being cleaned up by the janitor. "You do remember that he isn't just some test subject, don't you?"
Derek frowned. "What are you insinuating?"
Carson removed his Engineer's mask and looked at the disk in Derek's hand, labeled: "Project Colossus."
"You promised Beth on her deathbed that you would treat him as your son no matter what. You looked into her eyes and told her you would as she grasped onto her last memories of her family. You're many things, but I don't take you for a promise breaker."
Derek flinched. The containment breach and explosion. The degradation of her mind as she forgot how to walk, eat, and eventually, breathe. Where the incident haunted him like a phantom, his work was his holy water.
Or perhaps, that too, was just the continuation of the curse.
Noticing Derek stuck in thought, Carson donned his mask. The digital display blared multiple URGENT alerts at him.
"X13 may be Antithesis Operative DJ Anderson. But he is still your son." He sighed, dismissing them from his HUD with eye movements. "You reminded me a little of old Doc Hoff just now."
Derek looked up to Carson, who had turned to leave. "Make what you want out of it. You are the scientist here, after all."
Derek looked to his vibrating pocket; his pager was going off.
Carson walked to the door, glazing back before leaving. "The time off I took to watch this has left me with nearly 20 jobs that should have been done five minutes ago. We can discuss things further at the meeting next week."
The Engineer left, tapping the light switch on the way out. Pocketing the disk, Derek left the observatory and took the opposite left to Carson's right. The indistinct chatter around him as he meandered back to his office on the upper floor seemed to just flow right past him, as if he were a spectre.
Arriving at his office door, he swiped his access card and waited for the heavy click of armor bars before pushing open the door to familiarity. A seemingly distant place from the other side of the door.
Thick, black wool carpet and proper dark red wallpaper gave the room a certain life that the rest of the building's grey seemed to lack. Oak desk with comfortable old swivel chair. Coffee machine for those long nights.
The office seemed like a paradox; it brought back all his haunting memories, but he felt safer here than anywhere else. Sitting in the old chair, Derek leaned on the cluttered desk.
Resting his head in his hands, his mind unconsciously drifted back to what Carson had said.
A growl escaped his lips as he gripped at the sides of his hair. He slammed his clenched fists on the desk, scattering pens and papers like terrified insects as the pain filled memories flew back into frame.
"She's gone, Mr. Jameson. Best you can do now is hide her body and remember her before standard policies kick in to remove her."
"I know, Pavel."
"Mr. Jameson. An Antithesis attack on the facility is imminent."
"Leave Drake here. Beth will be cremated and the Antithesis will take Drake. They already have subjects A, H, R, W and Z."
"You would actively arm the Antithesis with another Host? The Auditor would not react warmly to such news."
"His knowledge of the matter is irrelevant. We are a small facility with one project that has already been deemed a failure because of the time frame."
"And what of the child? Surely the Improbable Energy will cause instability."
"Drake's mutations are stable, and will remain so. His mental state is unaffected by the Energy, and his physical mutations are slow growing. He will be fine even under stress."
"You think the child is a flawless Artificial Host? Not even Cain could pull that off."
"He did not have the knowledge I have. Time is the best thing we have… and it's all Drake has now."
"Very well. The Operative coming for this place is quite skilled. He hails from their Eastern Division."
"All the better. If it's truly led by one of those fabled Delta Squad members of theirs, bypassing AAHW defenses should be a cakewalk for them."
Derek leaned back against the chair, letting the numbness in his hands settle. He glanced down to the bottom drawer of his desk.
Was he really thinking of doing this? Surely the Auditor would discover-
No. It had to be done.
For Beth.
"If Beorg actually does anything in retaliation I would almost stick around just to see it." Derek stood and went over to the coffee machine.
The old and beaten machine ceased working during the last attack due to taking a few bullets, but the strong smell of fresh Americano had never left it.
Running his fingers through one of the scratches he found what he was looking for. A small slot in the groove. Hidden inside was an old and weathered polaroid photo.
Himself and Beth had taken a photo before they returned to Nevada with Drake. The only material memory of more peaceful times.
Returning to the desk Derek stared blankly through the photo. He muttered under his breath as he touched the aging polaroid. "For them".
Turning the photo over, he found what he was looking for. A phone number. It was a number he never thought he would seriously call.
The original purpose after all was to feed false information to the Antithesis out of boredom.
Opening the bottom drawer of the desk revealed an old turn dial phone. With a grunt of effort Derek lifted the heavy device onto the desk, casting a weary glance to the modern phone on his desk.
He had always suspected it was bugged, given how he used to receive shipments so quickly. Picking up the receiver he entered the number into the old phone, and waited for the ear splitting dial tone to end.
Beeeep
Beeeep
Bee- Click.
"Multi National United Shipping, how may I help you?"
"I need to speak with SFO Victor Bentroth, ID 3721-9483."
"Please hold."
Derek waited tensely, eyeing his door, if someone walked in it was all over. Life on the other end made him jump.
"Ugh… Aye? Who's this?"
"Victor."
"What… ye supposed to be dead."
"Faked it. Less loose ends to clean up. I need your help."
"If ye seriously think I'm gonna help ya, yer a few apples short a pie."
"Drake is back with me. I need a way out. It's urgent."
Silence followed for a blood chilling 5 minutes. The tension could have been cut with a blunt knife.
A loud rattling like something hitting a metal table sounded through the receiver, sending a wave of static through Derek's body. He quickly calmed himself before he fainted.
"Same place?"
"Yeah."
"Ye got four days. The facility, again, goes boom when we get ye two out. 'ear me?"
"Yes. Thank you…"
"Not doin' it fer ye. Doin' it for the kid."
"I know… Just remind your guys that I'm an HVT and they aren't supposed to shoot me."
"No promises."
The call ended. Derek returned the phone to its body and hid it away again.
Sighing, he closed the drawer and leaned back in his chair. He reminded himself he needed to calm down, panicked minds make mistakes.
"I wonder if Big Burt still risks doing deliveries out here…" pulling out an old phone book, Derek looked through the numbers before pausing and picking up the wireless phone.
"Easy. If he wakes up, we're done for," the Soldat instructed his companion.
The struggling Agent scoffed as he regained his grip on the cargo trolly he was using to push DJ around. "Easy for you to say. You're not pushing a metric ton of flesh and armor through the whole damn facility…"
Opening the door to the containment cell, the Soldat shook his head. "Metrics predict he doesn't weigh that much, so stop complaining".
The Agent's face turned red as a vein popped out of the side of his head. He tripped over the lipped edge of the door, face planting the ground and dropping the cart on its side. The Soldat bolted, fleeing from the cell without hesitation. Warden 4, a massive GOL3M donned in black and red armor, locked the door reflexively.
Wounded, the Agent groaned softly, holding his bloodied nose as he stood.
"Hey! Don't leave me in here with-"
In realization, the Agent slowly looked at the cart. The restraints had been ripped off. A chill ran up his spine.
"Fuck."
As the word left his lips, a rush of force pinned to the ground. Growling from behind his ear stiffened the Agent's muscles. An ice cold talon dragged down the side of his neck and along his cheek bone.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip your spine out and play t-ball with your heart."
Only a squeak left his throat. The talon drew back hard across his cheek, leaving a deep gash. The weight however, left his back.
"Get out."
A loud clang of shackles caused the Agent to scramble to his feet. He ran for the exit, bashing his fist against its metal surface to get the Warden's attention. As much as he wished it wasn't true, the Warden ignored him.
He was stuck in there with what he thought to be a feral, violent Antithesis experiment for the night.
The Agent turned around, sliding his back down against the door and letting go of hope of surviving. Sitting on the bed, DJ had been watching him fruitlessly try to escape, resulting in an unimpressed snort of anger.
"Fine. Just stay on that side of the room."
He nodded, doing very little to hide his jaw jittering. DJ grabbed the clothes left on the bed and began ditching the blood soaked and ruined pants he had.
A harsh shiver and cringe emitted from the Agent beside the door, the large, ballistic glass windowed cell was brutally cold. The Operative reflexively growled, making the Agent whimper in fear. Retrying, DJ picked up the quilt on top of the bed and threw it at the Agent's feet.
"Don't freeze to death. I'd rather not have a corpse in here."
His voice from across the room sounded far softer, but his hulking visage still inspired fear from the Agent.. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the quilt. It wasn't very thick, but it was better than his suit and dress shoes. A soft shiver and he curled up for the night.
DJ clambered into the bed, groaning face down.
Morning couldn't come soon enough.