Dr. Kevin Ulrik had absolutely no idea where his teammates were. After setting up shop inside that first room, he placed a few more traps outside to establish a perimeter. Now he'd know if anyone entered this area and so could remove the ever present worry from the back of his mind. At least, until he wandered outside his circle of safety just minutes later. He spotted the android nearby on the roof of a tall building duking it out with a much larger opponent. With just a Mozambique, Ulrik knew he'd have to get a whole lot closer in order to be of any assistance, and that fight would already be over by the time he got there. All he could do is hope that his MRVN ally was the better combatant.
A sudden voice caught him by surprise.
"I thought I recognized you, compadre!"
Something struck Ulrik in the back of the knee and nearly brought him to the ground. Cursing under his breath, he looked up in irritation to see a jittery daredevil hopping from one mechanical foot to the other.
"Silva," Dr. Ulrik muttered.
Octavio Silva, codename Octane, was the spoiled heir to a multi-million dollar pharmaceutical empire and quite possibly the biggest adrenaline junkie on the face of the planet. Following another death-defying stunt in which both of his legs were claimed by a grenade explosion, he was left in the care of the once reputable Ulrik, who had a vast background in biochemistry and cybernetics. It was he who developed Octane's famed prosthetics.
"By the way," his former patient continued. "I never got to thank you for the new legs. They've really got quite the kick!"
When Octane dashed forth, Ulrik raised his Mozambique and fired. His opponent leapt at the same time as the gun went off and flew clean over the triple helping of buckshot, lashing out with a kick that caught Ulrik in the side of the head, and landed gracefully behind him. Ulrik had enough. Fast or not, Octane was just another insect, another test subject to help him with his research. Turning, he raised his Mozambique and blasted at the speedster. Most of the shotgun pellets struck the wall to Octane's right, causing him to flee to the left. Which is exactly where Ulrik wanted him to go.
"Adios, amigo!" Octane said before disappearing from sight.
Ulrik didn't quicken his pace to try and catch him. The entire area his foe had just run into was rigged with traps, and those would slow him down like a fly stuck in molasses. A smug grin of satisfaction crept across his face when he heard one of his traps go off, followed by another shortly after.
Arrogant hare should never have tried to challenge a tortoise.
Dr. Ulrik found the subject in the same building he'd found the Mozambique, down on his hands and knees, weakly crawling for dear life towards an open threshold only to set off yet another trap. More deadly green vapors were released upon proximity. Fascinating, the scientist thought as Octane broke out into a fit of spasms. With such retched coughing and wheezing, it was only a matter of time before he hacked up a lung. Increasing the dosage per trap seemed to have surpassed the desired effect. His prediction of a fatality in minutes was an overestimation, as they were barely thirty-five seconds in.
"Thank you for bringing this little meeting to my office," Ulrik taunted, watching intently as Octane clawed at his throat, gasping for air while the noxious gas burned his lungs. "My independent variables make confined spaces like this much more... controlled."
Octane appeared to be losing consciousness. Ulrik took slow, deliberate steps over to him, causing the latter to look up and see a hazy figure walking through the thick mist. Once the scientist came into full view, his gloved hand smacked Octane in the face and sent him all the way down. Ulrik unclipped a gas canister and lightly tossed it next to the subject's head, then leaned in close to observe the effects. When this new smoke cloud erupted, Octane was no more. The gas was already starting to break him down from both outside and in, actively cooking his innards whilst eating into his exposed flesh.
Dr. Ulrik spoke to the deceased subject in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, saying, "Science demands a repeatable outcome for any experiment, hence why I am here, and you are there."