Chapter 6: Fire
Officers report. 10:30 AM. Log: Agent Matt Blackman.
Antithesis Operative DJ Anderson had been put through the experiment for six hour intervals in the past four days. In that time, 136 new GOL3M units had been destroyed, but no repercussions have been identified.
The Operative has become more docile over time. It has been noted to watch for a potential escape due to the sudden complacency being suspicious.
The Reaper has become more strict over this time, allowing less supplies to enter the facility as it keeps the costs down. Lead Engineer Carson McLeary, ID 573, has been assigned to keep an eye on the Doctor in case his mental capacity deteriorates from Energy exposure.
No other incidents aside from a unit containment malfunction have occured.
Advisory: Send additional Grunt units. More expendable units will make processes simpler as well as cut down on how many agents are 'sacrificed' in The Reaper's tests.
End Report.
"Doctor."
Derek groaned softly in response. The voice came from his intercom, causing him to regain consciousness as he lifted his head from his desk.
"Are you alright, Derek?"
"I'm fine. Simply resting up is all."
"Alright. Well, how have the projects been going? I hear the forest experiment was a success."
Finally recognizing the voice as his assistant's, Derek switched on the desk lamp and searched for his clipboard. Doctor Sinig. What a strange character. He had been assigned from a Class Seven Red Zone facility.
It was strange, given how he worked with 'prisoners' in his experiments. At the time, Derek had been solely working on his forest project. Finding the clipboard under a scatter of papers, Derek adjusted his glasses back into place.
"The reestablishment of X-13 with the BN serum is going well, albeit the results are minimal so far. Additional mutations, akin to X-14's horns, alongside other variables remain unknown."
"Mm. Such uncertainties are cosmetic at best?"
"Potentially. Her mutations back then, while faster, were less dramatic. Gender is one of the variables worth investigating for follow-up studies. As of now, no horns. If they do grow, I expect they will be very much the same, just a little bigger."
"Straight back and smooth as well like 14's, preferably. At the very least, 14 is presentable to the public, should news leak out."
"Should the Antithesis choose to show her off you mean. Anyway. I best go get him ready for today's session. You keep working on what you started."
"Project Vorpal is done already. HARKON is ready for testing."
"Then test it. Grab some of the new Grunts and test it on them."
"I would prefer not to use our own personnel, but as you wish."
Derek cut the call and sat back in his chair. His spine cracked back into place as his thoughts returned to his adoptive son. Over the past four days, DJ had made a lot of progress. Although the serum had unlocked a cannibalistic trait within him, it appeared that he was within control, given how the Agent that shared a cell with him for a night came out intact. Bar the horrific scar.
A few unwarranted kills here and there, but they weren't in vain, given how each kill seemed to sedate him more and more while under the so called "Nectar's" effects.
Getting up and opening the blinds, Derek looked out over the snow-covered sands in a blank stare. It was quiet out; an unsurprising fact from the frigid temperature.
A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts as the reinforced entrance opened with a creak. Carson entered, baring his FAL.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes. Let's get on with it."
Grabbing his lab coat, Derek fished a nametag out of the pocket. It bore his name and ID number, but also his title:
"The Reaper."
He was not happy with the title in truth, but given the nature of his projects after the "Alphabetical Set" of experiments, it was fitting.
Donning the coat, he exited the office with Carson in tow. The guard rods clicked into the wall behind him as he locked the door, allowing Carson to take lead towards the containment cell wing.
The Grunts on duty saluted the two as they passed by, before returning to their jobs. They were all within promotion range, but were assigned to the facility because of the sudden lack of staff. Questions were raised, but those with questions tended to vanish from the workforce.
The Soldat guard at the checkpoint stood aside to allow entrance for the duo. The containment wing was large indeed, but held only two inmates. One, a traitor. The other, Operative DJ.
Watching over them was Warden 4, still as silent and menacing as always.
Derek opened the door to DJ's cell and stepped inside, Carson following hesitantly behind him, rifle weapon ready. The book in the beastial Operative's hands did little to reassure him after yesterday's scuffle.
DJ glanced up at them for a moment, before returning to his book.
"And what brings you two here today? Didn't you want to take a break on account of losing more staff?"
"Just a physical. We've been stress testing you so often, we wouldn't want you to burn out." Derek replied, noticing the blood stains on the once white mattress.
The Operative sat up, marking his page in his language book and setting it aside. "So you want a doctor to tell me what I'm living through? Cause I feel like shit, and I look even worse. Last night was no exception."
"I'm guessing the blood has something to do with that?"
"Skin tearing is part of the norm. Here's hoping the scales mean it's over for now." He stood up, donning his shirt and his reclaimed jacket.
Over the four days, the mutation had taken a broader cosmetic effect on his whole body. Once 5"10, he now stood at a solid 6"2, dwarfing both Derek and Carson. The scales had lost their glossy sheen and looked more natural on his body. They blended well with his usual choice of dark clothes, and were easily concealed for the most part by his jacket.
Derek looked to Carson, who had gotten noticeably tenser as DJ got up. The tired Operative stretched, popping a vertebrae back into place and stuffing his hands into his pockets as he walked over to them.
"What's it to you anyway? I know you only give a shit for the sake of your project."
Derek shrugged nonchalantly. "Call it what you want. An attempt at restoring years of separation between myself and my son, or me trying to make the project a success. How you look at it doesn't really matter much."
DJ paused, before rolling his eyes and brushing past them out the cell door.
"Well, let's get on with it. As my old mentor would say, my Russian is gavno, and I want to get back to practicing as soon as possible."
Carson half-panicked as the Warden glanced at DJ leaving, catching up to him with Derek, who was much more relaxed than usual.
"While I appreciate the enthusiasm, the other staff here most likely do not. Please don't get ahead of us like that" Derek reminded him, adjusting his glasses.
DJ shook his head softly, sighing. "No promises."
As the security door opened once more, a Grunt at the door carrying a small box came face to chest with DJ and immediately froze. A soft pffft sound emitted from the unfortunate greyshirt who was, literally, scared shitless.
The Operative snorted, smirking and brushing past him. "Should have worn your brown pants today,"
The Grunt, clearly embarrassed, vanished into the bathroom nearby as the janitor came over, sighing.
Back in the arena, DJ looked at the cracks in the reinforced concrete and metal. "Why are we here exactly? I thought you wanted me to do a physical."
He turned his attention to the task at hand. Before him were three dummies made of ballistics gel. They were crafted to look completely like male humans; the red inside their centers looked nasty, but that was probably for cosmetic purposes.
Derek and Carson had joined him in the arena that day instead of going up into the observatory. Derek was holding onto DJ's coat, leaving him in the black and purple camo T-shirt that hugged his arms and shoulders tightly.
"A different kind of physical. We have observed you develop your powers and want to record your abilities to date more accurately." Derek motioned to the dummies. "The targets are of course for you to use your powers on. We are running low on expendable personnel."
Giving the first dummy a swift punch, DJ observed the dummy jiggle from the impact.
"These dummies are normally used for ranged weapon testing. They have been produced with fake internal organs, such as the lungs and the brain." He moved to stand beside Carson a few feet away. "Whenever you are ready, you may begin."
Steadying the first one, DJ started charging his arm with Energy. Over the time spent at the facility, he had learnt how to execute it without increasing the size of his fist, which resulted in a much more compact and pinpoint release of the energy. Efficient, with all the power kept.
As he did so, little fissures of black Energy fizzed off of his arm once again. He had discovered he could charge his arm to generate these fissures, and channel them into people to incapacitate them with a non-lethal shock.
Or overcharge them so they explode and liquidate inside like the first Gol3m unit.
He sent his fist into the chest of the dummy, only to have it go straight through the midsection and out the other side. Pulling back, the dummy stayed standing.
"Hmmm. Too precise. Try loosening up the punch a little. You seemed to figure out how to pull your punches not long ago if I'm not mistaken." Derek advised.
As DJ charged up another attack, he moved all the strength to his fist. When he hit the dummy, it was thrown backwards off its stand. It slammed into the wall about 10 meters away with a very jiggly SMACK .
Derek noted down the two variations, before addressing DJ once more. "Interesting results. Let's try another. You figured out an even more precise method of piercing a target yesterday."
DJ flexed his hand, sharp talons extending from his fingertips as he moved behind the next dummy. He flattened his hand and drove it straight through the chest cavity, splitting the false heart in two. Removing his hand with a grunt, the fake blood spurted out of the wound as he pushed the dummy to the ground. Carson passed DJ a cloth to wipe off the blood.
"Your hand cut right through the heart without so much as making a scratch of an exit wound." Derek nodded to himself. "Quiet and efficient. Now, the last one I want you to do is that rather nasty trick you pulled on Raymond 2 days ago after he, as you explained it, bonked you on the head with a baton."
Tossing the bloodstained towel aside, he dug his taloned fingers into the chest of the ballistic dummy, and began tearing downwards with great speed. Within seconds, the entire front of the dummy had been torn off, from collarbone to crotch, fake organs and blood spilling out everywhere in a chaotic mess.
Derek noted down one word on the clipboard.
'DEAD.'
"Well that's it for today then." Derek handed DJ his jacket back. "How about I cut you a deal? You don't kill anyone, and I'll let you eat from the cafeteria today instead of the containment food. Sound fair to you?"
"Depends what's being served. And if you're just using it as a ploy for something else… "
"No, no. This was, in actual fact, the last test before I present you to my higher ups. Taco Tuesday, by the way."
DJ sighed. "Take your olive branches where you can, I guess. Why not? Beats poorly refried beans."
"Very well." Derek turned to the engineer, who was staring at the fake corpse with a frown. "You going to be joining us Carson?"
"I'll pass. Lost my appetite. Besides, containment needs more repairs."
"Suit yourself." Derek motioned for DJ to follow him out the door. "Just be happy I didn't order live tests."
The cafeteria wasn't too far of a walk, given it was the largest room in the facility besides the containment area and loading dock. It was furnished much like a school cafeteria. Stained greyish tables and worn benches filled the room, and slightly discoloured beige paint on the walls set the tone.
What set it apart however was that it didn't smell like mystery meat and used L33T condoms. There were a few Grunts here and there eating meals. No Agents or Engineers; they had scheduled times for lunch.
Derek sat DJ down at a table near the back door, leaving to get them both food. DJ watched the few Grunts milling about, avoiding him like the plague.
"You appear lost in your thoughts." Derek sat across from him. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing. At least, nothing you would worry about."
"Oh, please. We are technically sitting on a massive reality shredding bomb made of Energy. I'm always worried." Derek bit into his taco. "Humor me, you may not be here much longer."
DJ gave in. Why not? What difference could it make.
"Just… thoughts turning to the end of all this. What then?"
"What do you mean?"
"I have a gut feeling the Antithesis will win the war. Not because of some miracle plan or highly trained squads. Because of a single individual pulling some crazy shit, as ironically crazy as that sounds. Maybe one of my old squadmates for that fact. But my thoughts are about after that." DJ gestured to himself. "Look at me. What place do I have in the world when I look like this?"
Derek put his food down and gave it a thought for a second. "Well, with hope, your mutations will fade if that is the case. If not, perhaps try finding X-14 and starting a life with her, assuming she's still alive. Well, assuming you are still alive."
DJ scoffed, shaking his head "Karma is a bitch. I won't die, simply because I've not earned the peaceful embrace."
"Wouldn't be the first to think that. Experiment J was just like that too. Although your scales come from him genetically. Perhaps the rage came too."
"In any case, at the end of this war I'm fucked either way." DJ picked up the first of the three tacos, half-devouring it in a single bite.
"Perhaps. Who knows?" Derek shrugged. "Maybe this whole terrorist thing will blow over so you and others that survive will be made heroes?"
"Too many unmarked graves on both sides for hero stuff. I'm not oblivious to the fact Agency recruiting is very conscript like. Too many innocents are getting drafted and mown down next to the diehard loyalists. I don't think I'd like being called a hero either. The responsibility is too great. I'm just good at killing people."
"Fair enough. Best to eat now and worry about the future later."
"Yeah, I guess."
DJ finished the first taco and went for the second, leaving Derek alone with his own thoughts as he stared at his son. The look made DJ stop halfway through the second taco.
"What?" DJ replied with a mouthful of food before continuing his meal.
Derek shook his head and looked back to his own food. "Nothing. Just thinking about transport issues through the snow. Weather testing is going great but it's made more logistical problems."
DJ shrugged, and moved onto his third. Seemed like he could really shovel food down.
Fishing into his pockets, Derek pulled out a small device. DJ nodded to it as he finished his last taco.
"What's that? Some memory stick or something?"
Derek put it down on the table. "It's an old NevPod. Your mother used to own it. I use it now to help me focus on lab work."
Picking it up, DJ looked at it. Sure enough it was just an old NevPod with some strange disk on the back of it.
"What's with the thing on the back?"
Derek looked up from his taco again. "Oh, that. It's a prototype of another project of mine. It's like a battery, but it runs on Energy. Infinite power source basically, but it only emits a small charge so this is all it can run. Aside from PDA's, tactical masks, and such."
"I suppose the Agency runs off these things?"
Derek shook his head. "I wish. We can't make them any larger without making them unstable and prone to exploding. And to run a building like this with them would require at least 75. That one prototype took me four months."
"Right. So how many are there?"
Derek chuckled. "Are you trying to interrogate me for the Agency's secrets now?"
"Was worth a shot." DJ put the headphones in and flicked around the songs. "Quite the taste in music you got. Russian traditional to heavy metal."
"Broad tastes let me focus on work. That, and I can dance if I try."
DJ raised his eyebrows. "You? Dance?"
"Yes. If you didn't know, back in my prime, I was often crowned the King of Groove whenever we threw the occasional party in the facility."
"Right. And I'm the legendary 574."
Derek rolled his eyes. DJ went to hand the device back, only for Derek to shake his head.
"You keep it. When you leave, this place will only have one project to work on. Then, it will be closed."
DJ pocketed the device as Derek wiped his mouth clean. "I will be assigned elsewhere and you will be shipped off to be made into the next super soldier, probably. Better if you keep it, you might get more use out of it."
"Thanks, I guess?"
Their lunch was interrupted by a loud explosion that rocked the facility, making DJ fall off his seat.
"Caution. Hostile forces are infiltrating the facility. This is not a-"
The power suddenly went out, cutting the automated intercom voice and plunging the facility into pitch black darkness. DJ could see perfectly fine as he got up, his mutated eyes allowing him near 20/20 vision in the low light.
He paused, his mind running a million miles per minute for some sort of explanation. Only for it to hit him like a truck when he glanced at the doctor sitting there in total calm.
Along with all the things he just told him, Derek's face gave DJ the answer.
"You knew?"
"Of course, I called in the attack."
DJ sighed, clotheslining an unfortunate Grunt who tried to run past him.
"So what now then?"
Derek fished a Desert Eagle from his lab coat as emergency red floor lights triggered and illuminated everything in crimson. He pointed in the general direction of the door. "My office. We wait there until the people I called in the attack get there, then we leave with them. Lead the way."
DJ nodded and directed Derek to the door. The dull, red emergency lights soon came on, providing enough light for Derek to find his own way. Sounds of gunfire and screaming filled the echoing, dark hallways.
Derek briskly walked to the stairwell and led DJ up to the next level.
"Let's hope those East Division guys are still as elite as they say they are."
"East? You called Hanne?"
"Fuck no. He would find a way to shoot me through the phone. I called the guy that attacked this place last time. What? Don't look at me that way, your old man has connections."