by McCainSr and Mossberg
STAN
"Stan." Joe called out into the hallway. The lanky, balding tall man didn't seem to notice. His downcast, fixed eyes conveyed no message, no life. They seemed to be deadened, as though robbed of their senses.
Stanley Morris continued to mop, dragging the fibrous coils of thread across the dingy tiled floor of the Umbrella complex. "Stan," Joe repeated, his tone with thinner patience this time. Stanley blinked, his jaw hardened in thought. His vacant eyes began to illuminate. He turned to Joe, mouth absently dropping partly open.
"There you are," Joe continued. "About time. I'm done in the boardroom. Finish mopping this area and turn in. Tomorrow's the evaluations. So do well, but hurry it up."
Stanley nodded in a mentally distant fashion, then returned his thirsty mop to the bucket of cold water. Joe watched the man, his eyebrows tight against each other, trying to understand his peer's behavior patterns. Joe, like many others, had tried to understand Stanley Morris, but to no avail. Joe heard the shrill cries of the MA-121s in the distance, and watched Stanley's eyes burn with intention. Whatever was wrong with Stanley disturbed Joe. It also unsettled many of the lab personnel. Joe remained for a second, then left, shaking his head with disgust. "Crazy fuck."
Stanley didn't flinch or respond. The thoughts of Stanley Morris were elsewhere, somewhere focused deeper within the lab… hidden in the distant rooms that Stanley was never permitted to enter. There in that room lie the creature of Stanley's desires: the perfect being. Stanley's mop stilled and he froze in place, his body idling as he recalled the majestic beast of his imagination. Human in form, yet with greater potential – it had look of a natural man, undiminished by the coddling of technology, perfected through sheer power and bloodlust. It was the predator in its purest form, allowed to evolve into a paragon, a work of mother nature's artistry. And they confined it to a tube.
Stanley stepped one foot through the doorway, entering the dark laboratory room. He extended his hands out, letting his fingertips act as warning to what kept him from his companion. In the far corner of the lab, the gentle azure glow crept across the walls, reaching out to Stanley, as if welcoming him back.
"Coeus," Stanley's high unstable voice cracked. "I have returned, as I promised." Stanley walked within sight of the stasis tube, letting the monstrosity flow into his eyes.
Stanley's face brightened, a smile stretching his lips. The Tyrant class Bio Organic Weapon called Coeus loomed before him: a nine foot tall hulking man with an external heart, muscular body, an enlarged cranium with ridges along his eye sockets, and a gargantuan claw of a left hand. Stanley took a seat before the monster. The thing floated gently in suspended animation as it had for months.
"I'll admit that I am late. I apologize. Joe wasn't mopping fast enough." The beast sank in the liquid, a bubble of air leaving its face. "I came as soon as I could."
Stanley looked behind him suddenly, glancing frantically to the door. He closed his eyes for a full second, and then reopened them, studying the entrance. He sighed when he was certain it was clear.
"So, Coeus. Where did we leave off?" Stanley smiled again, scooting his chair closer to the Tyrant. "Ah yes, I was telling you about my wife." Stanley suddenly broke into laughter. "Yes, still! I tell you Coeus, it seems like only a few days ago when I was telling you how beautiful she was. I guess those days are over." The man huffed. "The divorce is now actually in progress. The evil whore's even taking my daughter away from me. How can anyone be so heartless?"
Stanley looked down in a flash of hatred. "I know how. It's called humanity. All people are this way, Coeus. Believe me. There is no one in this world that will help you. It's terrible. You know how long it's been since I've seen sunshine? I came here in October. The last thing I saw of the outside world was my wife in that orange and red sundress, waving goodbye to me as I was brought here. I thought I'd see her in a month or two, but it's plain to see that just ain't gonna happen. So she gets all venomous and bitchy, saying that if I loved her I'd come home." Stanley stood up from the chair, looking to the tyrant.
"I don't have that option. I told her once, I told her twice. What is it with the world? Don't they get it anymore? I just wish people could stop killing and hating and trying to get rich by snuffing out others and take out time for love. I hate my wife." Stanley walked up to the stasis tube, touching the glass where the Coeus's chest was. "She's just like Umbrella. They're doing the same thing. Except my wife's doing it to me, Umbrella's doing it to the world."
Stanley scratched his razor-burned chin. "But hey, a paycheck's a paycheck, right?" He looked away from the Coeus for a second, "Just so long as I can stay alive and keep that kid alive, I'll be just fine." Stanley looked to the polished bone claws of Coeus and narrowed his eyes in thought. "It's just like I always said, Coeus. You're special. You're different than those other things. I love them and respect them, don't get me wrong. But I don't talk to them like I talk to you. Talking to them is completely different. I can feel your intelligence. I know you're special."
Stanley's eyes dropped down to the clipboard at the side of the stasis tube. "So, what do they have planned for you?" Stanley took the papers into his hands and thumbed through them, pacing the lab. "Let's see here."
Dopamine: 120 ml – 240 ml
T-Virus Injections: 50 cc – 175 cc
"Increased injections of Dopamine and the T-Virus," Stanley noted. "Your future looks bright." Stanley turned to face Coeus. "It looks as though as they're refining you beyond what they originally had planned." Stanley's eyes brightened again. "You know, perhaps with all of this brain juice they're pumping into you, maybe you and I will be able to better relate. Wouldn't that be something, eh?"
Stanley let out a short yawn, held it, then followed with a longer one. "Getting late now, my friend. Tomorrow?" Stanley gazed at the tyrant's closed eyes. The Coeus made no move or means of reply. "I shall look forward to it then."
Stanley tapped the glass gently, the way he gave farewell to Coeus every day of the four months since they'd met. He smiled. "Good night." Stanley was about to turn and leave, but the Tyrant's mouth twitched slightly. Stanley's mouth widened in a delighted grin at this. Coeus twitched again.
* * *
An insect had just buzzed off of Dillon's upper lip, and he invariably panicked for a millisecond, twitching and blinking his right eye. He was crouched down in the hot undergrowth of the South American jungle, barrel of his M4A1 pointed down the length of the vine covered bridge. Two teammates came up behind him, and one passed to find cover behind a mossy stump of a boulder. Dillon lowered the stock of his weapon and weaved his way toward the bridge as the other two covered. He dropped to the ground and lay prone, his rifle aimed down the other side of the bridge. Two teammates hustled down the bridge and took up cover positions as Dillon and the last one made their way up. This Ranger game of leapfrog continued until the four soldiers reached the small village of dirt and straw roofed huts.
"What the fuck are you looking at, Paco?" The man dressed in short sleeved Army Ranger fatigues questioned of a pitiful native. Paco was a loosely used term.
"No sign of them here." Dillon said, lifting a large clay bowl from the side of a yellow brick hut.
"No kidding. Let's head back to the LZ for pickup." The commanding officer said, coming out of a small house.
Dillon nodded, and staring at the bowl for a moment, brought it to his nose and sniffed it. His eyes suddenly narrowed.
"Sir, the Rebels were here." Dillon walked toward the Sergeant and handed him the bowl.
"Smell it, someone was having Tabasco with their food. Don't think any of the native's have a corner store around here."
The Sergeant held it underneath his nose, and looked up at Dillon from underneath his boonie cap, then turned to face the rest of his squad,
"Change of plans, we think the Rebels did come through here. Malcolm get on the radio and request another 6 hours."
"Awww… God damnit." The radioman muttered.
The Sergeant looked back to Dillon, "You are a sharp son of a bitch."
Dillon was now in the mess hall, his chow time cut short as an officer and a businessman stood in front of him. He stood straight as a rod and saluted them, not even stopping to wipe the tomato sauce from the side of his mouth.
"At ease. You have been selected for testing in a new unit, Corporal Dillon." The officer handed Dillon a stuffed manila folder. Without hesitation Dillon took it, finally wiping his mouth clean.
"I understand you were recommended for your quick thinking. From what I've compiled of your portfolio for Umbrella, you are quite an astute individual. Several missions might have ended in failure without your thoughtfulness." The man said, his praise hinging on trying to court Dillon for a date.
"Thanks, sir. Most of the time it is just luck, though. What is this about Umbrella?" Dillon's expression changed at the mention of the company, a face between intrigue and caution.
"It is confidential. All I can tell say is they will be running some physical and mental tests on you, and you will be transferred to a new unit outside of the Army Rangers. There is also a pay grade increase for this."
"Do I have any say in my change of duties?"
"No. Good day, Corporal." The
officer stood stiff and saluted Dillon then turned and walked back out the way
he came, his suited partner along with him.
* * *
Stanley watched the first movements of Coeus with delight. He mirrored the actions of the Tyrant, touching a hand on the cold glass.
"Son of a bitch. I knew it." Stanley rubbed his fingers against the stastis tube.
"You understand me. You're communicating. I knew it all along." His eyes glistened as he looked up at his friend.
"I knew there was more to you," Stanley whispered. Smiling contentedly, Stanley walked off into the laboratory hallways.