((Again, with the idjut.))
Well, if one thing was to be learned from this hard day or night, whichever it was, it would have to be that every goddamn lab he'd lived in ended up having this problem at one point or another. I mean, really. These guys were just plain getting lazy. And this time, he had no idea what became of Dr. Klein. She always managed to avoid the outbreaks, through a combination of good luck or advance knowledge as far as he was concerned. He'd had a number of long discussions with Dr. Klein, all of them rotating around a few key subjects. Namely himself, Umbrella, and matters of practicality. He could associate with the good doctor fairly well, since it was she who came in every day to check up on the boy. It was she who transformed the boy, as well. The boy's recollection brought up one memory in particular as the elevator neared the surface.
"Jon, I'd like to have a word with you, if you don't mind." The doc had said in her usual voice, in a rather alluring manner no less- the sound of a somewhat sultry lilt had always managed to catch his attention, so he could never find the ability to ignore her. "Eh? Um. Yeah, sure, what's up doc?" It was just easier to call her that. Worked for him on a number of levels, it did. Short, easily pronounced, and a constant reminder of how Warner Brothers cartoons didn't always suck. That, and if it weren't for the fact that he was more of the pet in the relationship, he might go so far as to call it a pet name. Either way, she paced back and forth across his room, eyes carefully averting themselves from his stack of porn from beneath rectangular spectacles with her clipboard pressed to her bosom with one hand, and a pen in the other.
"When I arrived at the psychiatric ward, what exactly drove you to accept my offer?" Another story in and of itself, but to cut things down he had taken up the chance to be included in an Umbrella Corporation 'internship' for 'gifted' people. He had later found out that both his genetic structure and mind were considered, in certain ways, exceptional. The former had certain compatibilities that few others possessed, the latter had something similar on the mental scale. Either way, he gave the question about five seconds of feigned deep thought. "Well ma'am, you were extremely hot for an older chick." A true statement, Dr. Klein was a hot commodity on the dating scene. Gifted with raven locks nothing short of magnificent down past her shoulders, a lovely pale complexion which brought up a wondrous contrast, ravishing brown eyes that were always giving people mixed signals; and in the boy's own words, "it don't hurt that she's got ass, neither."
Most people seemed puzzled when he gave answers like that, but Dr. Klein was used to such things. Any of the days when she wasn't sent in to speak with him, or when somebody was sent in her stead to jot down any data on the boy, was promptly given a mock-British "Feck off!" in the most loud and obnoxious tone he could muster up. She was, indeed, one of the few people he liked. "I... See. Okay then." Granted, she wasn't puzzled, but nobody ever said she wasn't damn close to it. Jon was a hard guy to get used to for most.
"All right, my turn to ask." Something had been on his mind for quite some time, after all. "Why the fuck is it me that's sentient? For that matter, what the fuck is the point of creating armies of half-dead idiots? What in the hell is the practical purpose? There ain't no profit! What the shit kinda suck-ass company-"And it truly is amazing how a loud, somewhat embittered teenage male voice can manage to be silenced by a gentle "Jon. Calm down." To which the boy could only nod, and nibble at his lower lip with an idle canine. Although they were slightly sharper, and so he had deemed those four teeth in particular 'fanglets'. A suiting term. "I completely agree with you, the zombies are an impractical weapon. Ozwell Spencer, the man who began the company, found that they were self-propelled creatures with the potential to spread the infection to others at a 90 success rate. But only in massive numbers are they effective, and any mass outbreak could never be contained as an effective weapon."
She paused, looked pensive for a moment, and then continued. "But that's why I turned you into what you are. You can be different. Not a weapon, but an improvement on humanity itself. You can still think exactly as you did before the infection, but have a vastly improved genetic structure. Best of all, you can clean up the zombies with utmost efficiency." Which was true, such was almost why he was designed. A counter-action against other Umbrella creations, of which he knew surprisingly little. All the boy knew was that although he could consume human flesh, he much more enjoyed eating the carrion provided by his own zombie kin. Coincidence? Not a chance in hell. Infected flesh tasted far superior, and made him feel more vitalized.
Ah, Doc Klein. He wondered if maybe she'd be up at the surface.
Ah, the surface! Speak of the devil. For such a long recollection, he was caught off-guard that only a few seconds had passed. Such was the way of the slow-motion state he saw the world in. "Showtime, old bean. Smile for the cameras. I'd stand up to greet the press, but I'm afraid I might stand up too much- I was thinking about Dr. Klein, if you catch my drift. Eh, eh?" A familiar 'ding' sounded, and the doors began to slide apart.
Hunk, meanwhile, could only hope that an order was given to execute this walking pestilence within the next five seconds. Just being near him drained one's dignity.