---Shades Of Grey---
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Disclaimer--I don't own Gundam Wing. However, if they were willing to sell their rights to me. . . Well, anyway, "Shades of Grey" is a song by Billy Joel, and strangely appropriate for this tale.
Warnings--Eventual 13x6, which means man + man, lime at the worst, but not for some chapters down the line.
Synopsis--AU where the mobile suits aren't the most dangerous weapon--the pilots are! The scientists played with biology before they played with metal, and the results became people with a secret, more feral side (in a literal sense). But Man can be crueler than any known Beast. . .
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"Shades of grey wherever I go
The more I find out the less that I know
Black and white is how it should be
But shades of grey are the colors I see. . . "
Chapter 1-Some Things Were Perfectly Clear
**A look into labs that shouldn't have existed, but did, before higher authorities made a move. And a look at the results of that move, in ways unexpected. . . **
AC 191
The young Specials Lieutenant Treize Kushrenada trailed after General Catalonia as the man inspected the facility, his keen eyes scanning about the deceptive surroundings. The simple walls and steel doors of the corridor inside this heavily-secured ex-prison facility hinted nothing of the experimentation going on within. Things that his commander--his uncle-- felt were inhumane. What exactly, they were here to find out. Not everyone felt that the Circe Project should be discontinued, however, inhumane or not. The Romefeller Organization, though at the moment under the pretense of being only a financial organization, had a strong faction in favor of continuing the project, led by Duke Dermail. But General Catalonia had once confided to his nephew that he had a bad feeling about this project, and if he had to step on his own father's toes to end something as inhumane as this was rumored to be, he had no qualms about it.
//I have to agree. What we heard sounded far-fetched, but the only possible ways of accomplishing such things would be. . . probably a horrible experience for the subjects involved. And our spies suggested that few subjects were voluntary. . . // Treize mused, pacing a step behind and to Catalonia's left.
General Catalonia stopped when the corridor they were in reached a branch, and glanced over at his nephew, eyes sharp and sly. "Lieutenant Treize," he began.
Treize saluted smartly, heels clicking as he put them together. "Sir!" //I wonder if he's going to suggest what I think he will. . . //
The older man smiled slowly, privately. "I do not need to be accompanied to the old warden's office where the head of this project is holding the meeting. Perhaps you would like to wander around and see what they /won't/ be telling me."
"Yes sir!" But Treize's mouth quirked slightly as he saluted again. //Yes. And find the truths behind the rumors, while I'm at it. That's why you brought me along, isn't it? They would hardly try to silence someone related to their project's patron, Duke Dermail.//
Catalonia nodded to acknowledge the second salute, then turned and began down the branching corridor, leaving Treize alone at the crossing.
Smiling slowly, Treize tapped his chin as he turned to scrutinize the corridor he was in. //Where to start my prying. . . ? They would hardly house their problems here, on the main floor, near the entrance. That would be displaying their flaws. But the highest security section, where the worst criminals were held-that would be more promising! And that is. . . //
The young man had to pause, hand reaching to rub the bridge of his nose, as he tried to recollect his brief glimpse of the map of the facility that both he and General Catalonia had peered at briefly on the trip here. His memory was good, however, and he took his bearing towards the west wing, looking for a staircase down.
//That is in the basement, one floor down, at the far west end of the west wing of the main building. A good place to hide dark secrets, and from more than just daylight.//
The walk was not long, and took him to a set of high-voltage gates that thrummed so audibly that he heard them before he saw them, locking the whole west wing of the massive building from the outside world. Thick woven metal bars thrummed with enough electricity to stun a man, with a pad to the right of them awaiting a palm print and signs on the walls screaming "Restricted", "Danger!", "High Voltage--Keep Back!", and "Unauthorized Personnel Enter At Their Own Risk". The latter sign made Treize pause, frowning thoughtfully.
"Is that some kind of a joke?" he murmured to himself, staring at the wing behind the gates, which seemed no different from the ones he'd already passed through: plain corridor and steel doors with small windows set in them. Nothing indicated a danger to mere pedestrians of the hallway. Not even a "Caution--Wet Floor" sign from the janitorial staff. //Someone has a twisted sense of humor, then.//
"Not exactly, young man," an amused voice chuckled behind him, as something clicked behind his back.
//A gun?// Treize turned slowly, to blink in surprise at a maimed-looking shorter man in a white lab coat. The clicking came from a three-prong claw the man clacked together and used to point at the sign in question. Sharp, squinty eyes bore into the young soldier through visual prosthetics that resembled goggles. //A doctor?// Blue eyes found the identification card clipped to the lab coat, and Treize smiled. //Yes--Doctor Johnson. I don't /remember/ that name being on our list of researchers involved, though. . . One they're keeping secret?//
"I'm Lieutenant Treize Kushrenada, from General Catalonia's inspection party. I trust that the sign doesn't apply to /Authorized/ personnel?" he asked mischievously.
The doctor smiled slowly, eye-lenses gleaming as he turned his head towards the sign. "Sometimes it does. . . We've lost a few people over the years," he admitted. "In fact, that's the greatest flaw in the project. But perhaps you'd care to see what exactly we're making, hmmm?"
Treize bowed to the man, smirking as he performed the almost insulting action flawlessly. //Ah, you're playing with me. But /you/ don't seem interested in hiding the things I'm here to find out. I wonder why. . . // "Of course. That's why I'm here."
Dr. J chuckled softly, taking the mocking bow in stride as he moved to the palm-plate to press his good hand on the pulsing blue pad and open the gates. But as the gates swung open inward, his mischief and mirth sobered swiftly, and sharp squinty eyes regarded Treize assessingly. "What you're about to observe goes against the Geneva Conventions and all thoughts of humane treatment of our fellow human beings. Not all of us who joined the project were informed about /what/ our subjects were to be when we signed up. I, personally, was informed that we would be working with dogs. . . "
//Ah, now we get down to business. You don't like the project, though you are participating with it.// Treize decided to be frank with the man, as the man wasn't holding things back from him. "They're prisoners, aren't they." Not so much a question as a statement to be confirmed.
Dr. J glanced over his shoulder at Treize as he led the way into the restricted area. "Not exactly. Though if simply being considered a threat or nuisance to Romefeller is a crime, then yes."
Treize's teeth gritted at that. //Worse than we suspected, then. . . // "If you can confirm that. . . "
The doctor shook his head in slow denial as he led the way to a side- corridor and between rooms that had steel sliding shutters over the windows. . . as if the occupants could shatter even that thick glass and use those palm-sized openings to break out.
"No, I cannot confirm it, nor can--or will--anyone else. A prisoner's word means nothing to the law, and that's all there is to go on. But death would have been kinder to most of them. . . for some, it still is a mercy beyond their reach."
Immediately, Treize decided he wanted to speak to one of the test subjects. //I want to know where these innocents come from. I want to know who has been wronged. . . // "Why do you say that?"
"Not all my recommendations are accepted by those in charge of this project. But that's neither here nor there. The project has accomplished one thing, though. . . "
Treize's ears perked. "What is that?"
"It teaches us what it means to be human," Dr. J murmured softly, almost sadly.
Frowning, Treize rubbed his chin and glanced at the sealed doors they passed. //That certainly wasn't one of the goals. . . But testing on people is crueler than on lab rats.// "I thought the project was supposed to enhance and improve human beings. . . preferably soldiers."
Dr. J frowned slightly but didn't answer at the time, and used his claw to open a pair of steel double doors, entering a small room that presented another pair of similar doors--with three bar locks visible on their side, locked--and a plain door to the right. Choosing the small one to the right, he knocked on it with the claw.
Someone opened it to let them in, holding it open--another short doctor whose hair resembled a mushroom over his scarred face. Sly beady eyes peered at the pair, narrowing at the sight of Treize looming over Dr. J's shoulder.
//This looks less like they're hiding something and more like they're trying to /contain/ something. . . I don't like the signs,// Treize mused grimly, mouth firming into a thin line.
"You like this so much that you've brought the peanut gallery with you?" the new doctor sneered.
Dr. J snorted, taking his peer's temperament in stride as if accustomed to this kind of greeting. "Who are we watching today?" he asked, as if no mention of Treize had been made.
"Twelve and Six." When Dr. J's face narrowed into a frown, the other doctor turned away, adding, "It wasn't our planning--the higher-ups demanded it. They want Six to try to kill finally."
"Nothing in this place offers him a reason to /live/--so how can he have a reason to kill?" Dr. J muttered.
"Tell that to the higher-ups." The nasty little doctor stepped aside to let them enter the room fully, the door swinging shut behind Treize with a locking click.
The surveillance room had a large, thick, one-way glass window that offered a view to most of a large, gym-sized room, bare of any furnishing, with automatic doors to either end. Monitors, from cameras set high in the corners of the room to be watched, offered a glimpse into the areas the glass couldn't expose. Computer monitors and other gadgets offered numerical information on subjects beyond Treize's comprehension.
Both doctors took the two chairs available, before the nasty little one spoke into a microphone jutting from among the unidentified observation equipment under the window.
"Begin Test. Send in Twelve."
//Are their subjects just numbers to them?// Treize wondered, as the door on the left side of the testing room slid aside. . .
A young man, perhaps Treize's own age, clad in a plain grey-blue T-shirt and similar loose pants, stood in the doorway. He appeared ordinary enough, with dirty blonde hair cut in a military buzz, a comely enough face, and a lean, muscular body that suggested that perhaps he /could/ break through the thick glass that formed the small windows of the imprisoning cells.
But the man's eyes made Treize draw back, jaw opening slightly in horror.
//Mad. He's as insane as a rabid dog! That. . . That /thing/ can't be called a man anymore--those eyes. . . ! And it's not just insanity, but something darker, what you see in an eager killer's eyes even as he cuts an innocent victim open. . . //
Both doctors were watching his reaction curiously, not observing the mad test subject looking expectantly around the testing room.
Dr. J gestured at the insane man awaiting their attention. "As you can see, the project's main goal was making the perfect soldier. . . "
The nasty one made a snorting sound, turning back to the view of the test room and the sole occupant. "The perfect /killer/, you mean. . . The perfect killer is a monster. So the project's successful--it's not our fault that the perfect murderer cannot be controlled."
Treize felt his stomach twist sickeningly. "He's mad. . . " //Good soldiers don't kill when unnecessary--but /this/ thing would!//
"/None/ of them can be controlled," Dr. J sighed. "That's the flaw. Not all are mad, like Twelve here, though all have a lot of anger issues, among other problems." Light glinted off the man's eye-lenses as he glared at his fellow, and he added accusingly, "He'll rip Six to shreds. . . "
Tilting his head, Treize considered the doctor's tone. //Is he fond of some of his test subjects? Are they /allowed/ to be fond of them? Probably not, in case they become fond of /all/ the unfortunates forced into this study.//
The nasty little doctor smirked back at Dr. J. "Six doesn't fall that easily, for all that he doesn't care to live. I just wish he /would/ kill, and put Twelve's madness to peace finally." Bending over the mike, he added sharply, "Send in Six."
The door to the right opened, but nobody came through, just a flicker of movement beyond the range of their vision--and an audible snarl, followed by someone's shriek of pain.
Twelve glared sharply at that open door, but made no move towards it, instead tensing and crouching slightly in preparation to fight.
Dr. J groaned, and reached for a switch. "Six is attacking his handlers again. . . They'll put him on the termination list for sure soon."
"Termination list?" Treize asked, feeling a chill run down his spine. //I would refuse to fight, too, under similar circumstances! It's this crazy one who should be terminated!//
"They have a list of subjects marked for. . . termination. Too dangerous to keep handling, and completely uncontrollable," Dr. J explained quietly, eyeing that waiting open door with an expression akin to sadness or dismay. "Six is. . . pressing his chances. But then, I don't think he cares anymore."
The mushroom-haired doctor snorted again, and reached for a toggle. "Six never likes to be forced into anything--it's against his breeding, both natural and /our/ additions, after all. Turning off the lights should be enough to lure him out, though."
The room under observation abruptly became pitch-dark, making Treize gasp. "How can you watch anything, then?" //I don't understand. . . //
"The screens." Dr. J gestured with his claw at one of the monitors, which showed the red glow of infrared light marking Twelve.
Before Treize could open his mouth again, a second form blurred onto the monitor, slipping into the testing room but keeping to the far-back wall. A very slim form, that, they could see that much when it paused--younger than Twelve and shorter, of lower weight and perhaps strength. Warm colors trailed to mid-shoulders behind its back, indicating longer hair than one expected on anyone male. Carefully, Six kept close to the wall, wary. . .
//He knows this is a fight. Can they see each other? I don't think so. . . Yet, somehow, they can sense each other.// Treize frowned slightly, unable to imagine how that was possible, yet in the way the two continued to face each other in the dark made it clear that they could sense each other's general position.
"He's little more than a boy," Treize murmured in surprise, taking note of Six's appearance with some horror. //But--how can they do this?!? They must have started working on him--since he was a child!//
"A bit more, yes," the nasty doctor chuckled. "He had to grow up quickly. They /all/ grew after the genetic treatment was administered, with the changing gene."
Dr. J growled, "Most grew into insanity, though. It should never have been added to normal people. The genetic alterations should have been done on the donated material before their birth, as I said before--/they/ aren't like this wild bunch. It's the drastic changes that drive them mad, you know."
"Speaking of changes. . . " The little doctor looked pointedly at the infrared screen. "They'll have to, soon."
Six had stopped circling the other in the room, and paused.
//What is he waiting for? What is he doing? The other's not going to wait- -he's crouching lower right now! He's going to leap!// Treize's eyes widened in horror as the younger subject straightened.
"I don't want to fight you," a quiet voice whispered through the speakers, from the test room. "They can't make us fight if we don't want to."
Dr. J sighed. "He won't listen to you, Six--he's too far gone," he murmured at the unhearing figure on the screen.
A roar was the only reply to the younger man's attempt to parley--and Twelve leapt at him, hands out as of to rend, and something did indeed tear- -
But that powerful form seemed to twist and blur, the shape increasingly wrong as it flew through the air at its target. A target that wasn't there. Six had leapt sideways, landing in a crouch facing his opponent a safe distance out of reach. Only he was no longer facing a man.
Something else prowled on all fours, whirling towards Six in a slavering fury. Something with a long furry tail, and flashing claws. It leapt again--
This time, what dodged was another large feline-seeming creature, only with a bushier tail, backing away and shaking itself free of ragged cloth with a warning growl that the first seemed not to heed.
"W-what. . . /are/ they?" Treize gasped, struggling to believe his eyes. //They can't be. . . That's only myth! No such thing as werewolves!//
"Yes, your eyes /are/ seeing big cats, Lieutenant Kushrenada. They can control the change," the nasty doctor chuckled. "It's /we/ who can't control /them/."
"The genetic changes allow them to alter themselves into a second pattern, or shape," Dr. J explained, not glancing at the soldier. "Only into the shape programmed into them, of course. It's a painful process, but as you can see, they can learn to undergo it swiftly with practice."
"This is wrong," Treize breathed, staring at the screen. //This should never have been tried. Whoever began this was wrong. Making men into beasts--in more ways than physically--it's foolish, insane. This has to be stopped.// "People don't even do this to animals, let alone. . . men. . . "
The two felines were at it in earnest now, taloned paws flashing at each other in a blinding blur of blows. It was impossible to see who was winning, though the brighter colors of hot blood marked both in sharp streaks. Six, leaner and smaller, abruptly retreated, streaking for the far side of the room. After a moment's hesitation, Twelve charged after-- only to run full-tilt into an attack so fast that the watchers never saw the blow, only the hot gush of blood following it.
//He's fast! But if Twelve manages to pin him, he's doomed. . . // Treize marveled.
"It /is/ wrong," Dr. J admitted quietly, watching the screens. "And it's why we want to let you shut us down. It will mean their lives," The claw clicked at the combatants on the screen, "but it means no others will follow them, and they can finally have mercy. . . "
//Mercy. Death /would/ be a mercy, for those so mad. There is no cure for the kind of madness that "Twelve" has. And maybe the others are tired enough of having to kill that they would be glad of it, too.// A twinge of sadness pulled at Treize's heart. Both cats were extraordinary to watch, sheer perfection in combat against each other. But the wrongness of this treatment of those two creatures overwhelmed his admiration.
"I'll tell the General that this must be closed down," Lieutenant Kushrenada stated firmly, accepting what these doctors wished of him. "I just ask. . . Please, make their ends humane."
Six had somehow managed to leap upon the older cat's back, digging claws in to hang on securely as Twelve tried to roll and buck and twist him off. Jaws clamped on an ear firmly, the two glaring into the corners of each other's eyes as they rolled across the floor, the younger one ignoring how that heavier weight made his bones creak audibly, how twelve tried to crush him into the hard floor. Then, abruptly, Six shoved off Twelve as hard as he could with all four legs--
The ear still trapped between strong jaws.
Twelve's neck snapped with an audible crack, and the larger cat collapsed limply, twitching.
Six backed away slowly, first on all fours, then as a man again, limping slightly as he stared at the dying cat still on the floor. Hot streaks of bloody wounds marked his sides and shoulders, a rather bright one marking his lame leg at the calf. But he didn't seem to care about the pain so much as cleaning his mouth--Six spat to the side and wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, as if he'd tasted something foul. . . Or hated what he had done. But the eyes locked on that still form were wide, horrified or disgusted.
Six had seen the madness in Twelve's eyes. He had given the man mercy, much as he didn't like killing.
Those wide eyes turned towards the monitor in a sharp glare. "I hope you're satisfied," that quiet voice growled, dripping with bitterness and disgust, self-mocking and hateful. Then he was limping back towards "his" door. . .
Treize dipped his head in shame for his fellow man--and his kin in Romefeller--who were responsible for this. //It is appropriate that we are reproached for this. . . This project should never have been begun.// "I wish to find General Catalonia right now," he stated, raising his head again. //If /he/ can face this kind of horror with his head still high and that much humanity intact, the least I can do is end this for him.// "The sooner we end this, the better."
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Dr. J eyed Dr. G with a slight smile as he packed their notes into satchels in the lab, not waiting for word about the closing of Project Circe. "It would be /very/ amusing if we let the whole lot loose on Oz when we leave. Justice, I think one of our little ones would say."
Dr. G grunted, and called up a set of secured files on the computer, triggering a certain hidden file among them. "I still say that we do just that," the mushroom-haired man sneered.
A man with a brace over his nose walked into the lab, and smiled slowly. "You two seem confident that they'll shut this down," he stated cheerfully.
Dr. J nodded firmly to himself. "Catalonia's nephew isn't as cold-hearted as some of his kin. And the General himself can't accept anything so inhumane, O. They will do what's right. . . " He paused, glancing over at a certain set of switches set in the wall uncertainly, torn. . .
Dr. O followed his friend's gaze to the cell locking controls, and shook his head slightly. "You know that one would never be able to blend into society. He couldn't as a human--he never will as a feline." Gently, he tried reasoning against it.
Dr. G jerked his head up to glance at Dr. J and the object in question, sucking his teeth as he realized what Dr. J wanted to do. "They'll hunt him down. Not worth his suffering--let him die. He wanted to when this began."
Dr. J didn't so much as shift a muscle--he certainly couldn't blink with those implanted eye-lenses. He was remembering a six-year-old boy staring back at him in defiance and despair, head high and stubborn.
A dark hand reached out and flicked three switches, opening three rooms.
Dr. J smiled slowly at the one responsible. "You think so, too," he stated slyly.
The large darker-skinned doctor smiled back gently, ignoring Dr. G's glare and sniff. "I think he will manage. . . and perhaps do more than you imagine possible, G. Six is not beaten yet. But it's harder to hunt more than one-trails will cross and tangle. This way, he has a chance."
"Hmph," Dr. G snorted, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't think you guys consider what if he /fails/? And if one of those less-than-sane two you loosed with him /does/ get out into society?"
Dr. O made a face at the numbers of the opened cells. "Would you rather the Alliance took them into custody? Those two are the ones we /could/ find means to control. Better society molds them than the Alliance!"
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The alarms went off shrilly just as general Catalonia's black limo turned the corner from the long paved road to the highway, aiming for the family estate just outside the city of Brussels. Treize jerked at the sound, glancing sharply out the window at the darkening evening, the shadowy landscape dappled with the shadows from the canopy of forest that began out here, just beyond the barb-wire topped fence surrounding the bare landscape of the ex-prison.
A pale blur streaking for the forest caught his eye, making him squint uncertainly. In the dimming light, it was hard to make out. . . but it /could/ be a large lean feline. A darker one was easier to spot, heading in the opposite end of the fence, and--was that a tawny one following the road, only from the small cover of the drainage ditches, trailing in their wake?
Treize smiled, and said nothing.
//I wish you well. If you can accept freedom again, and refrain from continuing the horrors demanded of you here, I wish you a good long life, full of joy finally. It's less than you deserve, after what you have endured.//
The car rolled on in silence. If General Catalonia had noticed Treize's surprised start, he withheld his curiosity. . . Perhaps he could guess what was happening, and like his nephew, wished those unfortunates Godspeed.
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To be continued. . .
Note: cats can't see color, only shades of grey. Few animals /can/ see color.
"Some things were perfectly clear, seen with the vision of youth
No doubts and nothing to fear, I claimed the corner on truth
These days it's harder to say I know what I'm fighting for
My faith is falling away
I'm not that sure anymore. . . "
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Disclaimer--I don't own Gundam Wing. However, if they were willing to sell their rights to me. . . Well, anyway, "Shades of Grey" is a song by Billy Joel, and strangely appropriate for this tale.
Warnings--Eventual 13x6, which means man + man, lime at the worst, but not for some chapters down the line.
Synopsis--AU where the mobile suits aren't the most dangerous weapon--the pilots are! The scientists played with biology before they played with metal, and the results became people with a secret, more feral side (in a literal sense). But Man can be crueler than any known Beast. . .
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Shades of grey wherever I go
The more I find out the less that I know
Black and white is how it should be
But shades of grey are the colors I see. . . "
Chapter 1-Some Things Were Perfectly Clear
**A look into labs that shouldn't have existed, but did, before higher authorities made a move. And a look at the results of that move, in ways unexpected. . . **
AC 191
The young Specials Lieutenant Treize Kushrenada trailed after General Catalonia as the man inspected the facility, his keen eyes scanning about the deceptive surroundings. The simple walls and steel doors of the corridor inside this heavily-secured ex-prison facility hinted nothing of the experimentation going on within. Things that his commander--his uncle-- felt were inhumane. What exactly, they were here to find out. Not everyone felt that the Circe Project should be discontinued, however, inhumane or not. The Romefeller Organization, though at the moment under the pretense of being only a financial organization, had a strong faction in favor of continuing the project, led by Duke Dermail. But General Catalonia had once confided to his nephew that he had a bad feeling about this project, and if he had to step on his own father's toes to end something as inhumane as this was rumored to be, he had no qualms about it.
//I have to agree. What we heard sounded far-fetched, but the only possible ways of accomplishing such things would be. . . probably a horrible experience for the subjects involved. And our spies suggested that few subjects were voluntary. . . // Treize mused, pacing a step behind and to Catalonia's left.
General Catalonia stopped when the corridor they were in reached a branch, and glanced over at his nephew, eyes sharp and sly. "Lieutenant Treize," he began.
Treize saluted smartly, heels clicking as he put them together. "Sir!" //I wonder if he's going to suggest what I think he will. . . //
The older man smiled slowly, privately. "I do not need to be accompanied to the old warden's office where the head of this project is holding the meeting. Perhaps you would like to wander around and see what they /won't/ be telling me."
"Yes sir!" But Treize's mouth quirked slightly as he saluted again. //Yes. And find the truths behind the rumors, while I'm at it. That's why you brought me along, isn't it? They would hardly try to silence someone related to their project's patron, Duke Dermail.//
Catalonia nodded to acknowledge the second salute, then turned and began down the branching corridor, leaving Treize alone at the crossing.
Smiling slowly, Treize tapped his chin as he turned to scrutinize the corridor he was in. //Where to start my prying. . . ? They would hardly house their problems here, on the main floor, near the entrance. That would be displaying their flaws. But the highest security section, where the worst criminals were held-that would be more promising! And that is. . . //
The young man had to pause, hand reaching to rub the bridge of his nose, as he tried to recollect his brief glimpse of the map of the facility that both he and General Catalonia had peered at briefly on the trip here. His memory was good, however, and he took his bearing towards the west wing, looking for a staircase down.
//That is in the basement, one floor down, at the far west end of the west wing of the main building. A good place to hide dark secrets, and from more than just daylight.//
The walk was not long, and took him to a set of high-voltage gates that thrummed so audibly that he heard them before he saw them, locking the whole west wing of the massive building from the outside world. Thick woven metal bars thrummed with enough electricity to stun a man, with a pad to the right of them awaiting a palm print and signs on the walls screaming "Restricted", "Danger!", "High Voltage--Keep Back!", and "Unauthorized Personnel Enter At Their Own Risk". The latter sign made Treize pause, frowning thoughtfully.
"Is that some kind of a joke?" he murmured to himself, staring at the wing behind the gates, which seemed no different from the ones he'd already passed through: plain corridor and steel doors with small windows set in them. Nothing indicated a danger to mere pedestrians of the hallway. Not even a "Caution--Wet Floor" sign from the janitorial staff. //Someone has a twisted sense of humor, then.//
"Not exactly, young man," an amused voice chuckled behind him, as something clicked behind his back.
//A gun?// Treize turned slowly, to blink in surprise at a maimed-looking shorter man in a white lab coat. The clicking came from a three-prong claw the man clacked together and used to point at the sign in question. Sharp, squinty eyes bore into the young soldier through visual prosthetics that resembled goggles. //A doctor?// Blue eyes found the identification card clipped to the lab coat, and Treize smiled. //Yes--Doctor Johnson. I don't /remember/ that name being on our list of researchers involved, though. . . One they're keeping secret?//
"I'm Lieutenant Treize Kushrenada, from General Catalonia's inspection party. I trust that the sign doesn't apply to /Authorized/ personnel?" he asked mischievously.
The doctor smiled slowly, eye-lenses gleaming as he turned his head towards the sign. "Sometimes it does. . . We've lost a few people over the years," he admitted. "In fact, that's the greatest flaw in the project. But perhaps you'd care to see what exactly we're making, hmmm?"
Treize bowed to the man, smirking as he performed the almost insulting action flawlessly. //Ah, you're playing with me. But /you/ don't seem interested in hiding the things I'm here to find out. I wonder why. . . // "Of course. That's why I'm here."
Dr. J chuckled softly, taking the mocking bow in stride as he moved to the palm-plate to press his good hand on the pulsing blue pad and open the gates. But as the gates swung open inward, his mischief and mirth sobered swiftly, and sharp squinty eyes regarded Treize assessingly. "What you're about to observe goes against the Geneva Conventions and all thoughts of humane treatment of our fellow human beings. Not all of us who joined the project were informed about /what/ our subjects were to be when we signed up. I, personally, was informed that we would be working with dogs. . . "
//Ah, now we get down to business. You don't like the project, though you are participating with it.// Treize decided to be frank with the man, as the man wasn't holding things back from him. "They're prisoners, aren't they." Not so much a question as a statement to be confirmed.
Dr. J glanced over his shoulder at Treize as he led the way into the restricted area. "Not exactly. Though if simply being considered a threat or nuisance to Romefeller is a crime, then yes."
Treize's teeth gritted at that. //Worse than we suspected, then. . . // "If you can confirm that. . . "
The doctor shook his head in slow denial as he led the way to a side- corridor and between rooms that had steel sliding shutters over the windows. . . as if the occupants could shatter even that thick glass and use those palm-sized openings to break out.
"No, I cannot confirm it, nor can--or will--anyone else. A prisoner's word means nothing to the law, and that's all there is to go on. But death would have been kinder to most of them. . . for some, it still is a mercy beyond their reach."
Immediately, Treize decided he wanted to speak to one of the test subjects. //I want to know where these innocents come from. I want to know who has been wronged. . . // "Why do you say that?"
"Not all my recommendations are accepted by those in charge of this project. But that's neither here nor there. The project has accomplished one thing, though. . . "
Treize's ears perked. "What is that?"
"It teaches us what it means to be human," Dr. J murmured softly, almost sadly.
Frowning, Treize rubbed his chin and glanced at the sealed doors they passed. //That certainly wasn't one of the goals. . . But testing on people is crueler than on lab rats.// "I thought the project was supposed to enhance and improve human beings. . . preferably soldiers."
Dr. J frowned slightly but didn't answer at the time, and used his claw to open a pair of steel double doors, entering a small room that presented another pair of similar doors--with three bar locks visible on their side, locked--and a plain door to the right. Choosing the small one to the right, he knocked on it with the claw.
Someone opened it to let them in, holding it open--another short doctor whose hair resembled a mushroom over his scarred face. Sly beady eyes peered at the pair, narrowing at the sight of Treize looming over Dr. J's shoulder.
//This looks less like they're hiding something and more like they're trying to /contain/ something. . . I don't like the signs,// Treize mused grimly, mouth firming into a thin line.
"You like this so much that you've brought the peanut gallery with you?" the new doctor sneered.
Dr. J snorted, taking his peer's temperament in stride as if accustomed to this kind of greeting. "Who are we watching today?" he asked, as if no mention of Treize had been made.
"Twelve and Six." When Dr. J's face narrowed into a frown, the other doctor turned away, adding, "It wasn't our planning--the higher-ups demanded it. They want Six to try to kill finally."
"Nothing in this place offers him a reason to /live/--so how can he have a reason to kill?" Dr. J muttered.
"Tell that to the higher-ups." The nasty little doctor stepped aside to let them enter the room fully, the door swinging shut behind Treize with a locking click.
The surveillance room had a large, thick, one-way glass window that offered a view to most of a large, gym-sized room, bare of any furnishing, with automatic doors to either end. Monitors, from cameras set high in the corners of the room to be watched, offered a glimpse into the areas the glass couldn't expose. Computer monitors and other gadgets offered numerical information on subjects beyond Treize's comprehension.
Both doctors took the two chairs available, before the nasty little one spoke into a microphone jutting from among the unidentified observation equipment under the window.
"Begin Test. Send in Twelve."
//Are their subjects just numbers to them?// Treize wondered, as the door on the left side of the testing room slid aside. . .
A young man, perhaps Treize's own age, clad in a plain grey-blue T-shirt and similar loose pants, stood in the doorway. He appeared ordinary enough, with dirty blonde hair cut in a military buzz, a comely enough face, and a lean, muscular body that suggested that perhaps he /could/ break through the thick glass that formed the small windows of the imprisoning cells.
But the man's eyes made Treize draw back, jaw opening slightly in horror.
//Mad. He's as insane as a rabid dog! That. . . That /thing/ can't be called a man anymore--those eyes. . . ! And it's not just insanity, but something darker, what you see in an eager killer's eyes even as he cuts an innocent victim open. . . //
Both doctors were watching his reaction curiously, not observing the mad test subject looking expectantly around the testing room.
Dr. J gestured at the insane man awaiting their attention. "As you can see, the project's main goal was making the perfect soldier. . . "
The nasty one made a snorting sound, turning back to the view of the test room and the sole occupant. "The perfect /killer/, you mean. . . The perfect killer is a monster. So the project's successful--it's not our fault that the perfect murderer cannot be controlled."
Treize felt his stomach twist sickeningly. "He's mad. . . " //Good soldiers don't kill when unnecessary--but /this/ thing would!//
"/None/ of them can be controlled," Dr. J sighed. "That's the flaw. Not all are mad, like Twelve here, though all have a lot of anger issues, among other problems." Light glinted off the man's eye-lenses as he glared at his fellow, and he added accusingly, "He'll rip Six to shreds. . . "
Tilting his head, Treize considered the doctor's tone. //Is he fond of some of his test subjects? Are they /allowed/ to be fond of them? Probably not, in case they become fond of /all/ the unfortunates forced into this study.//
The nasty little doctor smirked back at Dr. J. "Six doesn't fall that easily, for all that he doesn't care to live. I just wish he /would/ kill, and put Twelve's madness to peace finally." Bending over the mike, he added sharply, "Send in Six."
The door to the right opened, but nobody came through, just a flicker of movement beyond the range of their vision--and an audible snarl, followed by someone's shriek of pain.
Twelve glared sharply at that open door, but made no move towards it, instead tensing and crouching slightly in preparation to fight.
Dr. J groaned, and reached for a switch. "Six is attacking his handlers again. . . They'll put him on the termination list for sure soon."
"Termination list?" Treize asked, feeling a chill run down his spine. //I would refuse to fight, too, under similar circumstances! It's this crazy one who should be terminated!//
"They have a list of subjects marked for. . . termination. Too dangerous to keep handling, and completely uncontrollable," Dr. J explained quietly, eyeing that waiting open door with an expression akin to sadness or dismay. "Six is. . . pressing his chances. But then, I don't think he cares anymore."
The mushroom-haired doctor snorted again, and reached for a toggle. "Six never likes to be forced into anything--it's against his breeding, both natural and /our/ additions, after all. Turning off the lights should be enough to lure him out, though."
The room under observation abruptly became pitch-dark, making Treize gasp. "How can you watch anything, then?" //I don't understand. . . //
"The screens." Dr. J gestured with his claw at one of the monitors, which showed the red glow of infrared light marking Twelve.
Before Treize could open his mouth again, a second form blurred onto the monitor, slipping into the testing room but keeping to the far-back wall. A very slim form, that, they could see that much when it paused--younger than Twelve and shorter, of lower weight and perhaps strength. Warm colors trailed to mid-shoulders behind its back, indicating longer hair than one expected on anyone male. Carefully, Six kept close to the wall, wary. . .
//He knows this is a fight. Can they see each other? I don't think so. . . Yet, somehow, they can sense each other.// Treize frowned slightly, unable to imagine how that was possible, yet in the way the two continued to face each other in the dark made it clear that they could sense each other's general position.
"He's little more than a boy," Treize murmured in surprise, taking note of Six's appearance with some horror. //But--how can they do this?!? They must have started working on him--since he was a child!//
"A bit more, yes," the nasty doctor chuckled. "He had to grow up quickly. They /all/ grew after the genetic treatment was administered, with the changing gene."
Dr. J growled, "Most grew into insanity, though. It should never have been added to normal people. The genetic alterations should have been done on the donated material before their birth, as I said before--/they/ aren't like this wild bunch. It's the drastic changes that drive them mad, you know."
"Speaking of changes. . . " The little doctor looked pointedly at the infrared screen. "They'll have to, soon."
Six had stopped circling the other in the room, and paused.
//What is he waiting for? What is he doing? The other's not going to wait- -he's crouching lower right now! He's going to leap!// Treize's eyes widened in horror as the younger subject straightened.
"I don't want to fight you," a quiet voice whispered through the speakers, from the test room. "They can't make us fight if we don't want to."
Dr. J sighed. "He won't listen to you, Six--he's too far gone," he murmured at the unhearing figure on the screen.
A roar was the only reply to the younger man's attempt to parley--and Twelve leapt at him, hands out as of to rend, and something did indeed tear- -
But that powerful form seemed to twist and blur, the shape increasingly wrong as it flew through the air at its target. A target that wasn't there. Six had leapt sideways, landing in a crouch facing his opponent a safe distance out of reach. Only he was no longer facing a man.
Something else prowled on all fours, whirling towards Six in a slavering fury. Something with a long furry tail, and flashing claws. It leapt again--
This time, what dodged was another large feline-seeming creature, only with a bushier tail, backing away and shaking itself free of ragged cloth with a warning growl that the first seemed not to heed.
"W-what. . . /are/ they?" Treize gasped, struggling to believe his eyes. //They can't be. . . That's only myth! No such thing as werewolves!//
"Yes, your eyes /are/ seeing big cats, Lieutenant Kushrenada. They can control the change," the nasty doctor chuckled. "It's /we/ who can't control /them/."
"The genetic changes allow them to alter themselves into a second pattern, or shape," Dr. J explained, not glancing at the soldier. "Only into the shape programmed into them, of course. It's a painful process, but as you can see, they can learn to undergo it swiftly with practice."
"This is wrong," Treize breathed, staring at the screen. //This should never have been tried. Whoever began this was wrong. Making men into beasts--in more ways than physically--it's foolish, insane. This has to be stopped.// "People don't even do this to animals, let alone. . . men. . . "
The two felines were at it in earnest now, taloned paws flashing at each other in a blinding blur of blows. It was impossible to see who was winning, though the brighter colors of hot blood marked both in sharp streaks. Six, leaner and smaller, abruptly retreated, streaking for the far side of the room. After a moment's hesitation, Twelve charged after-- only to run full-tilt into an attack so fast that the watchers never saw the blow, only the hot gush of blood following it.
//He's fast! But if Twelve manages to pin him, he's doomed. . . // Treize marveled.
"It /is/ wrong," Dr. J admitted quietly, watching the screens. "And it's why we want to let you shut us down. It will mean their lives," The claw clicked at the combatants on the screen, "but it means no others will follow them, and they can finally have mercy. . . "
//Mercy. Death /would/ be a mercy, for those so mad. There is no cure for the kind of madness that "Twelve" has. And maybe the others are tired enough of having to kill that they would be glad of it, too.// A twinge of sadness pulled at Treize's heart. Both cats were extraordinary to watch, sheer perfection in combat against each other. But the wrongness of this treatment of those two creatures overwhelmed his admiration.
"I'll tell the General that this must be closed down," Lieutenant Kushrenada stated firmly, accepting what these doctors wished of him. "I just ask. . . Please, make their ends humane."
Six had somehow managed to leap upon the older cat's back, digging claws in to hang on securely as Twelve tried to roll and buck and twist him off. Jaws clamped on an ear firmly, the two glaring into the corners of each other's eyes as they rolled across the floor, the younger one ignoring how that heavier weight made his bones creak audibly, how twelve tried to crush him into the hard floor. Then, abruptly, Six shoved off Twelve as hard as he could with all four legs--
The ear still trapped between strong jaws.
Twelve's neck snapped with an audible crack, and the larger cat collapsed limply, twitching.
Six backed away slowly, first on all fours, then as a man again, limping slightly as he stared at the dying cat still on the floor. Hot streaks of bloody wounds marked his sides and shoulders, a rather bright one marking his lame leg at the calf. But he didn't seem to care about the pain so much as cleaning his mouth--Six spat to the side and wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, as if he'd tasted something foul. . . Or hated what he had done. But the eyes locked on that still form were wide, horrified or disgusted.
Six had seen the madness in Twelve's eyes. He had given the man mercy, much as he didn't like killing.
Those wide eyes turned towards the monitor in a sharp glare. "I hope you're satisfied," that quiet voice growled, dripping with bitterness and disgust, self-mocking and hateful. Then he was limping back towards "his" door. . .
Treize dipped his head in shame for his fellow man--and his kin in Romefeller--who were responsible for this. //It is appropriate that we are reproached for this. . . This project should never have been begun.// "I wish to find General Catalonia right now," he stated, raising his head again. //If /he/ can face this kind of horror with his head still high and that much humanity intact, the least I can do is end this for him.// "The sooner we end this, the better."
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Dr. J eyed Dr. G with a slight smile as he packed their notes into satchels in the lab, not waiting for word about the closing of Project Circe. "It would be /very/ amusing if we let the whole lot loose on Oz when we leave. Justice, I think one of our little ones would say."
Dr. G grunted, and called up a set of secured files on the computer, triggering a certain hidden file among them. "I still say that we do just that," the mushroom-haired man sneered.
A man with a brace over his nose walked into the lab, and smiled slowly. "You two seem confident that they'll shut this down," he stated cheerfully.
Dr. J nodded firmly to himself. "Catalonia's nephew isn't as cold-hearted as some of his kin. And the General himself can't accept anything so inhumane, O. They will do what's right. . . " He paused, glancing over at a certain set of switches set in the wall uncertainly, torn. . .
Dr. O followed his friend's gaze to the cell locking controls, and shook his head slightly. "You know that one would never be able to blend into society. He couldn't as a human--he never will as a feline." Gently, he tried reasoning against it.
Dr. G jerked his head up to glance at Dr. J and the object in question, sucking his teeth as he realized what Dr. J wanted to do. "They'll hunt him down. Not worth his suffering--let him die. He wanted to when this began."
Dr. J didn't so much as shift a muscle--he certainly couldn't blink with those implanted eye-lenses. He was remembering a six-year-old boy staring back at him in defiance and despair, head high and stubborn.
A dark hand reached out and flicked three switches, opening three rooms.
Dr. J smiled slowly at the one responsible. "You think so, too," he stated slyly.
The large darker-skinned doctor smiled back gently, ignoring Dr. G's glare and sniff. "I think he will manage. . . and perhaps do more than you imagine possible, G. Six is not beaten yet. But it's harder to hunt more than one-trails will cross and tangle. This way, he has a chance."
"Hmph," Dr. G snorted, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't think you guys consider what if he /fails/? And if one of those less-than-sane two you loosed with him /does/ get out into society?"
Dr. O made a face at the numbers of the opened cells. "Would you rather the Alliance took them into custody? Those two are the ones we /could/ find means to control. Better society molds them than the Alliance!"
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The alarms went off shrilly just as general Catalonia's black limo turned the corner from the long paved road to the highway, aiming for the family estate just outside the city of Brussels. Treize jerked at the sound, glancing sharply out the window at the darkening evening, the shadowy landscape dappled with the shadows from the canopy of forest that began out here, just beyond the barb-wire topped fence surrounding the bare landscape of the ex-prison.
A pale blur streaking for the forest caught his eye, making him squint uncertainly. In the dimming light, it was hard to make out. . . but it /could/ be a large lean feline. A darker one was easier to spot, heading in the opposite end of the fence, and--was that a tawny one following the road, only from the small cover of the drainage ditches, trailing in their wake?
Treize smiled, and said nothing.
//I wish you well. If you can accept freedom again, and refrain from continuing the horrors demanded of you here, I wish you a good long life, full of joy finally. It's less than you deserve, after what you have endured.//
The car rolled on in silence. If General Catalonia had noticed Treize's surprised start, he withheld his curiosity. . . Perhaps he could guess what was happening, and like his nephew, wished those unfortunates Godspeed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
To be continued. . .
Note: cats can't see color, only shades of grey. Few animals /can/ see color.
"Some things were perfectly clear, seen with the vision of youth
No doubts and nothing to fear, I claimed the corner on truth
These days it's harder to say I know what I'm fighting for
My faith is falling away
I'm not that sure anymore. . . "