Rumbling down the desolate dirt road in the late afternoon, the lone, specially equipped delivery truck approaches an abandoned airfield situated far in the nearby desert just outside the city of Lense. The driver, a middle aged black man, and his companion, a twenty something white man, stare at the rust red colored, dilapidated air hanger as the truck slows down and stops in front of its doors. The companion exits the truck and, after a few hearty tugs on the rusted metal door handle, opens the hanger doors wide enough for the truck to drive through then walks inside to rejoin the driver, who has exited the truck and moved to the its back after parking it in the middle of the empty hanger. He presses a button on the side of the truck and its large back door slowly opens. The two catch a glimpse of their cargo for the first time as a large metal box with small holes around the top edges moves toward them on mechanized rails. A ramp descends sluggishly from the truck and the metal container slowly rolls down the ramp until a dull clang echoes throughout the hanger as the metal collides and skids across the concrete, dust carpeted floor.
"Boy, there sure is a lot of dust in here," remarks the young man.
"Must be the maid's day off," retorts the driver.
Ignoring the comment, the young man moves around the container and examines it for any clue as to what its contents are while the older man's body language indicates his desire to leave.
"Any guesses as to what's inside?" asks the driver's companion, who clearly has more interest in the unknown contents of the metal box.
"I've been transporting boxes and whatnots for the lab for years. I've since given up on discovering what's in them or understanding what they do. As long as it doesn't explode or eat me, I'm good. Now come on. It's almost dinner time."
"Yeah, okay. But I could have sworn I heard water inside the container. Maybe it's some creature the lab created," said the young man.
"The less you know the better," the driver responds impatiently. "Let it go and let's get out of here."
"Doesn't it seem weird to bring a large metal container equipped with what looks like air holes and carrying water to an abandon air hanger," asks the young man, who still stares at the mysterious container.
"Anything that lab does is weird to me. You would do best to live by the motto ignorance is bliss if you want to continue working there. Now let's go. Dinner is calling and if we don't get back in time, Brad is going to blow his top."
The driver walks toward his companion, reaches over to the young man's arm, and gently pulls him toward the truck. The young man offers weak resistance and soon submits. He slowly walks back to the passenger side of the truck. The driver climbs in the driver's seat and starts the truck as the young man climbs into his seat. Both slam their doors, which produces an echo that resonances throughout the hanger. The truck drives forward, pass the hanger doors, and stops. The young man climbs out again and begins to close the hanger doors. He takes one more last curious look at the metal container before he completely closes the doors.
The metal container sits in silence as the late day sunlight penetrates the hanger's partially dirt covered windows and splashes against its walls and the hanger's concrete floor. Only the shadows in the hanger keep the lonely container company. Suddenly, from a darken corner, a figure slowly separates itself from the shadows that engulfed and hid it while the delivery of the container occurred.
It observed and listened to the two men, who were oblivious to its presence, and watched as the truck exited the hanger.
With a predatory grace, the figure walks toward the box. Its black duster clings to its shoulders as its boots lightly pound on the concrete floor with each step. Within a few moments the figure stands next to the container and slowly runs its hand over the metal wall. It feels the vibrations of the movement of the contained water through its hand. Then a large bang, emanating inside the container, rings throughout the hanger. A cold, delighted smile forms on the figure's handsome face.
Finally, the package has arrived. Now it can begin.
Suddenly, a vicious sneeze escapes it. "Ah-chooo." It reaches into his black jeans and pulls out a tissue paper and blows its nose. "Okay, mental note… next time… pick a drop off point that has better ventilation and less dust."
He woke up with a splitting headache.
Those stupid scientists! They most have slipped something in my meal. No wonder it tasted so good. That should have been a warning sign.
He waits until the pain screaming in his head quiets down to a dull whisper. Then looking out through his watery glass container, he discovers he has been transported to a new location. Instead of the old familiar lab that greets him every time he wakes up, he stares out into an unfamiliar, clean room with a white tiled floor and four white walls. From his vantage point, he sees a state of the art computer with a multiple screened monitor sitting on a large metal desk, a single chair with wheels standing in front of it, and a metal counter with empty beakers, test tubes, and other chemistry glassware placed on it. He looks straight ahead and spots a metal sliding door, which suddenly opens revealing a dimly lit room beyond it. For some time it remains open.
Okay?
Through the opening, a man then steps into the room. The man gracefully walks toward Gill's container with his hands clasped behind his back. The man wears a blood red silk shirt, black trousers, black boots, and a black duster while his fair skinned face holds no expression. An air of confidence and slight arrogance radiates from the man while the lights above highlight his chocolate brown hair. The man stops in front of the glass prison that holds a slightly disoriented prisoner.
"I trust you are feeling some discomfort, Gill, but that will soon go," the man says with a cold smile.
"Who are you and what am I doing here? This isn't the lab."
"You are very observant. No, this is not the lab. You are in my private abode where I go to escape from the world. As to who am I, that is not important right now. All you need to know is that I arranged for your delivery. You see, I need your assistance with a special project I have been planning for some time now."
"Oh, really," questions an irate Gill, "why would you think I would help you?"
"Because I can give you what you want, what you desire the most."
"And what's that?" asks Gill.
"Revenge," the man calmly exclaims, "revenge on Ron Stoppable."
Gill's already ill tempered demeanor morphs into an explosion of fury and rage as the sound of that name reaches his brain. He feverously bangs on his watery glass prison with his fist and feet. The man patiently waits until Gill tires, which occurs in a few moments since Gill has not fully recovered form the aftereffects of the tranquilizer. Soon he stops, due to exhaustion, his barrage against the glass, which withstands his assaults.
"Are you done because I can wait some more," the man says coolly, "it's no problem."
"Yeah," responds a weary Gill. "I'm done."
"Good. Then we can continue discussing the terms of this limited partnership."
"Hold on. What makes you think I need your help to get payback on the squeeb? I could have broken out on my own and totally wreak his life," says Gill.
"I'm sure you could. You just wait and bide your time in that lab until the opportunity presents itself and you take it. Then again I'm offering the opportunity. You are a very patient… mutant, and I can only assume you are intelligent. Which would you chose? Stick around that lab for years waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself or help me and in the process get back at the… What did you call him?"
"Squeeb," replies Gill, "a squeeb who has gotten all the breaks." His eyes narrow. "He gets to have a normal life, friends, and a future. Oh, let's not forget how he has defeated me and my plans." He swims closer to the glass. "What's next for him: winning the lottery, more popularity, discovering he's some lost royal?"
"Actually, the latest 'good' thing to happen to him is a blossoming romantic relationship with the head cheerleader of his high school."
"Arghhh!" exclaims an ever more frustrated Gill. "He's dating the head cheerleader. Does it never end for him?"
"Issues much," replied the stranger.
"Of course I have issues," Gill snaps. "I'm a mutant." Suddenly a realization strikes him. "Wait a minute, the head cheerleader at Middleton High is Kim Possible, the dweeb's best friend. You're telling me they hooked up."
"Yes, but let's not dwell on that. Let's discuss the plan to get what we both want."
"And what is it you want?" asks Gill.
A sinister grin crosses the man's face,which sends a slight shiver down Gill's spine. A menacing light shines inthe man'shazel eyes. "An opportunity to create a masterpiece," he replies nonchalantly.