Welcome back to Enigma. The series I have been writing for far longer than it reasonably should have taken to write.
This chapter, is by and large one of my favorite chapters of the story so far. Yes, that does make me sound a bit like a psychopathy but what can I say. Writing it was a blast.
It's also worth noting that this is one of the few chapters I did not have to do a complete rewrite for. I mean yes I edited the crap out of it, and added a number of changes to it, but over all I felt it stood up fairly well on it's own, and did not wish to change the over all tone.
Hopefully you guys enjoy it just as much as I do. And as always if you did, feel free to leave a review. There is always more room in my heart for more reviews.
Cheers
?, ?, 2024
? Hours
There was a point in my life where I lived, breathed, and conducted myself by the words, "Pain is temporary, but quitting lasts forever."
It's a simple enough motto to live by. Easily repeated, and undeniably motivational to hear when put in hard situations.
Lance Armstrong coined it originally. Using it as an explanation when asked how he was able to just keep on going, despite the massive amounts of pain he was no doubt having to endure during the late stages of the Tour De France.
And while I will whole heatedly agree that there are better quotes to live by, I would also be lying if I said that who I was today was not due in some part to the conviction and dedication that it invoked in me every time I heard it.
These days however, I can happily say I no longer live by that motto. And that while I still believe it to be a very strong and motivational quote to bring up every now and again, I can also say that anyone who does decide to live by it, is an absolute fucking moron who has yet to experience the horrors of reality, and is unaware of the true depths pain can reach.
The genetic modifications procedure. That hell on earth, proved more than enough to wake me up from the dream world I once lived in.
Being shot multiple times. Losing people close to you. Those are undeniably painful. But the alien material in that tank? That was something else entirely.
The unquenchable inferno that I experienced during that procedure, the one that ravaged my body and mind with unrelenting aggression for god knew how long. To this day, I believe that it was the true depth of pain that one can experience without succumbing to madness.
I had to have been accidentally submerged in pure battery acid. That was the only logical conclusion my mind could come to.
What else could make my skin feel like it was being peeled and ripped off me, bit by bloody bit? What other substance had the ability to simultaneously pluck off each and every one of my nails, before cauterizing the open wounds shut?
Nothing on this planet but acid could explain these things that were happening to me.
I barely even felt the metal of the restraints begin to cut into my skin, as my body involuntarily convulsed again and again. Trying it's hardest to escape the all-consuming fire that was slowly making its way up my torso, before all but going limp from pure mental overload.
My mouth snapped open, the first of many screams for mercy finally exiting my mouth, amidst a torrent of pained howls and desperate pleas that had been building up in me since the moment the procedure started.
Dignity and respect meant nothing under these circumstances. So letting myself scream and beg until I felt the skin on my face begin to slowly burn away was an easy choice to make.
I sat in that damn chair. Unable to move. Unable to escape. Shouting and hollered for literally anyone to help, until my body was completely submerged beneath a sea of orange.
I screamed until my mouth was almost flooded with the abominable liquid, and I couldn't feel my vocal cords anymore. I screamed until I felt like I couldn't physically scream anymore, and still the pain drove me on.
I cried. I prayed to every god and goddess I knew of. I pleaded and begged. Offered up anything and everything that I had, that I could think of. Hoping against hope for the pain to stop. For it to let up for even a second so I could remember what the world outside of the damn tank looked like.
It was only when the acid started to work its way beneath my skin that my yelling fully stopped. Whether out of exhaustion, acceptance, or inability to function though I didn't know.
Then the injections began.
I barely felt the needles puncture my body amidst the sea of orange that had become my world, but good Lord did I feel their effects.
Liquid fire blazing its way through my veins. Consuming and taking over my body with such terrifying speed and ferocity that my already shattered mind could barely keep up.
It ran through ever crevice of my being, taking with it whatever conscious thoughts I had left and leaving me as nothing, but a pain ridden husk of a man.
I didn't even know how long I had been in there for by that point. Minutes? Hours? Days? My sense of time was so completely shot, that I couldn't even remember what day this madness had started on.
My mental state was so distorted and broken by that point, I could barely get a single thought through the heavy haze that had begun to cloud my every thought and feeling. It felt like my very consciousness was break apart around me; fracturing into tiny pieces that were slowly consumed by the fire that sought to consume me.
A flash of realization brought a face to my mind. Abby. This is what she was trying to tell me. This is what she had hidden from me. This torture, this suffering, this was her secret.
The malicious orange fluid around me seemed to almost sense my realization, and redoubled it's efforts as soon as her name popped up and tore my mind away from the soothing distraction with brutal viciousness, dragging me kicking and screaming back down into the murky depths of its own private hell.
No not murky. Dark. So dark I could no longer see the strange liquid that was to be the death of me.
My eyes!
I felt my body jerk in response to the realization, felt my hands snap back and forth in their cuffs in a vain attempt to reach for where my eyes should have been.
I couldn't see anymore. My eyes felt like they were being slowly liquidized from the inside out. My eyelids now completely unresponsive and un-moving. Leaving me not only alone, but now very much in the dark.
Dear god, why wasn't I dead yet?
Surely I should have died from blood loss, or shock, or something by now? Why was it taking so god damn long? What god had I pissed off so much that I deserved this after all the other shit I had been put through?
Of course, it was in that moment that the alien material finally reached my brain.
White lights and sparks exploded into my mind's eye, as what felt like molten lava made its agonizingly slow way, throughout my brain.
Checking, warping, rewriting, or erasing everything it came across. My mind slowly beginning to break apart even further, as more and more of my past memories were flashed by me.
My fourth birthday party. The first day of school. My first dance. The first girl I kissed. The night we shared the back seat of my car. My high school graduation. The invasion news. Enrollment with my friends. First time seeing Lock.
Endless memories flashing by one by one. Some of them being instantly removed from existence the moment I saw them, leaving gaping holes in my life that I knew I would never get back, while others were encased in metal and locked carefully away for later use.
Training days. Lessons in field stripping and survival. Anything that the alien fluid deemed useful was kept. The rest was purged in flashes of white light and violent twitches of my head.
And still, the pain didn't let up. All the while it continued it course, burrowing itself deeper and deeper. Until finally the vile substance managed to work its way into my very bones.
Each bone it touched seem to shattering them into a million pieces from the inside. The jagged pieces ripping into the carriage of my legs and arms with horrible results, before being viciously yanked back out again and set back into place.
A pained whimper escaping my lips for the first time it what felt like an eternity.
There amidst the flashes of light and shattered bones, I struggled to even think straight anymore. My mind too far gone amongst the constant pain and loss. Slowly, mercifully, everything began to fade once again into darkness.
I don't know how long I sat in that horrid tank for. Time seemed to become endless as the strange fluid continued to break my body apart bit by bloody bit.
Eventually I could barely even remember my own name. Dylan. No wait... Doug? No, but it was something that started with a D. Or was it and A? Allen? Adam? No, that didn't feel right either.
My mind was so far gone by this point, I barely even took note of the slow receding of the pain from within my head.
Hell, even when I did finally notice it, I was quick to flag it as a trick of the mind.
Deep down I knew that any hope would be instantly crushed beneath a fresh wave of redoubled pain from the alien like fluid that encompassed me. It was cruel like that. Liked to play with it's food for some reason.
However, unlike the last time few times, something different began to happen.
My body. Ever so slowly, began to be pieced back together.
Bones were re fitted and re sealed. Skin was slowly stretched back along my arms and legs. And my eyes. God almighty, my eyes could finally be opened once again.
It took a long while, but soon enough, I felt complete again. One hundred percent me.
Then it hit me.
I was alive. I was whole.
Somehow, somewhere along the line, I had managed to survive.
It was like every single holiday miracle mixed into one.
I felt myself beginning to cry from the sheer relief of this blood procedure almost being done. The heaving of my chest as my mind struggled to comprehend what had happened, only redoubling as I felt the fluid begin to exit my body completely.
It was when no tears came that it first hit me.
Something was wrong with me. Something was very, very wrong with me.
I didn't know how or why. But I knew deep down, that something was fundamentally different about me.
I felt the liquid around me start to drain away.
Soon the restraints began to loosen, and I felt myself being carefully lifted out of the pod by hands that were not my own.
Cold air rushed to meet my damp skin, and bright lights assaulted my eyes every time I tried to open them, forcing me to stay in the dark for the time being as I was carried off to the side of that fucking tank.
My body was quickly lowered onto an extremely comfortable bed, and several devices were hooked up to me in sequence. Murmurs and whispers of those around me clawed at my ears with such intensity they may as well have been yelling.
"How is he still conscious?"
"Better question is how he is still alive? Did you see the vital scans? His heart should have given out on him at least five times!"
"I think the MELD helped with that. It's almost like it has a mind of its own sometimes."
"Holy shit... You were not joking around when you said this stuff was incredible."
"I know what you mean. But at least he made it though. Would have been a big waste if he had snapped like the others."
"Very true. Matt would have had out heads for this one if he failed."
Sleep Drew. Sleep.
Exhaustion suddenly hit me like a freight train, and I was out before I could even wonder what was going on.
Tuseday, August 13th, 2024
1800 Hours
Clink
My glass clinked softly on the table as I calmly placed it down and already reaching for the amber filled bottle beside it with a practiced, almost mechanical motion.
"One," I muttered softly to the empty seat across from me, as the bottle was tilted and transferred more of its numbing liquid to the empty glass below.
Two-point-four seconds later, I pulled it back up and corked once again.
Not a single drop went to waste. The glass, smoothly lifted and thrown back for the second time, before once again being placed calmly back down, in the same place. Ready for the next round.
"Two," came the gruff voice from behind me.
I smiled a little on the inside, as a weathered old man made his way to the seat across from me. A familiar looking bottle, shot glass, and smile in-tow.
Though I would never outwardly show it, I truly was thankful that I wouldn't have to completely the ritual alone. It was a depressing tradition after all, but one I completed none the less.
Being very careful to keep my face as neutral as possible, I waited patiently as he quickly removed his coat, and unceremoniously knocked back two shots of his own in quick succession. The splattering of liquid on the table a testament to his speed, but not his accuracy.
"Ah," he sighed, smacking his lips a little as the whisky made its way down. "Nothing beats a stiff drink after a long day."
I nodded in agreement as my hands began the familiar motions of refilling the glass in front of me. Watching intently as the man across from me mimicking my actions with a similar level of smoothness and timing.
"Three." We both stated, calmly downing the glasses of burning liquid and placing them back; my own hands already moving to the bottle again before his glass had even hit the table.
"So, I hear he lived."
My hand paused mid-movement at the mention of our newest recruit.
A deep sigh emerging from my lips as I let go of the bottle, and resigned myself to talking things through. I never could lie or hide anything from him anyways, so why beat around the bush.
"Yes. Surprisingly he did." I replied evenly, clasping my hands together to prevent any unnecessary movement that might tip him off to my thoughts.
"Surprisingly?" He replied arching an eyebrow in my direction, his tone betraying nothing of his intentions. "I thought you personally trained him. Why do you say that?"
I grimaced a little at my mistake. That was Shane for you though. Old he might be, but clueless he was not.
"He was in the tank. For six. Fucking. Days." I hissed from between clenched teeth. "You of all people should understand the potential physical, let alone mental, ramifications of that."
I watched his eyes widen as he leaned forwards in his seat. "Six days?!" The astonishment and anger he no doubt felt bleeding into his voice. "Just what the fuck is the Commander thinking?!"
A small frown marred my lips as I shook my head, remembering the conversation from days prior clearly.
"What do you mean you're doing them 'All at once'?!" I bellowed indiscriminately. The force of my shout focused entirely on the scientists who were in charge of overlooking my new recruit.
"I mean exactly what I said," the slimy tones of Doctor McGonaghue making me shiver involuntarily. "It would be a waste of MELD to do five separate modification treatments. So instead, we are going to combine them all into one single procedure, and cut a massive amount off both the cost and the time of the project."
I felt my fist clench in pure rage, as the sheer stupidity of the man before me registered. The soft purple glow of psionic energy beginning to emanate from them, as I let the power feed off my palpable hatred for the men before me.
"Do you even realize how painful that shit is?! You're going to kill him!" I screamed in his face. Smirking internally as many of the other scientists began taking small steps back from me.
"Just who the fuck authorized you to do this?!" I demanded, feeling the power in my hands swell with each passing second I was unhinged.
"I did." Came the incredibly blunt response from behind me.
"Commander!" I quickly dropped the energy from my hands and swung to salute him.
"Lockdown." He nodded. "I expected better from you."
Slowly walking towards me with a measured stance, he rumbled on. "Think about it. We don't have unlimited resources. And if we can get the same results as you, but with only a fraction of the resources, then we can double. No, triple, our potential of survival."
I shook my head adamantly. "No." I stated as calmly as I could, "You don't get it. The pain will be far too much. He could die from shock alone. Not to mention the potential metal trauma from the effec..."
"For the last time. There is simply no scientific evidence to back up your claim!" Matt interrupted. Bringing up a few charts on his tablet and presenting them to both myself and the Commander.
"Don't you see? There is literally no activity in the pain repetitions. Thus it's a proven fact that MELD does not cause as much pain as you seem to believe."
"Besides," he smirked. "Men can handle physical pain much better than any woman can, so he should be just fine. Even if there is a little pain involved."
My blood ran cold at his words. Quickly turning, and giving my best cold stare to the disgusting human, being who just happened to also be the lead scientist of the Genetic Modification Division, I bit back my response and opted for a more level headed attack.
"Oh. Well if your so fucking confident in your research, then why don't you step into the tank?" I grunted.
"Because that would be a waste of resources." He smugly stated, gesturing to the man behind me that had coined the phrase. "I'm not the one fighting the enemy head on after all."
I turned back to the Commander once more, disbelief now plastered across my face. "You can't be serious. I'm telling you! He could easily die! I've been through the process personally! I know for a fact that combining them would be far too much for one person to handle!"
Not a single emotion broke through the Commander's ever-stoic face as he stared me down. "Stand down, Lockdown. That's an order."
I felt my stance go rigid as he once more addressed me.
"Firstly, I have been assured that the risks outweigh the rewards. And before you ask; multiple times, and by different sources as well," he continued. "Secondly, if he dies, then we know for next time. Remember, he knew the risks when he joined the military. When he joined us."
A deep rumbling growl emanated from my throat as I seethed at the sheer lack of remorse that he was able to display.
"Never get attached, Lockdown." He growled right back. "You know the rules of this game better than anyone."
I slowly bowed my head in defeat. Knowing full well that nothing I said or did would change his mind on the subject, and that Drew may well be dead come morning.
"Now if that's all, we need to get this started." He stated calmly, turning and swiping his clearance card, before entering into the soundproof room with Doctor McGonaghue in tow.
An ear-splitting scream emanated clearly from the room before the door locked and sealed themselves once more.
"Jesus," Shane breathed, downing another shot of whisky, in the vain hope that more alcohol would help calm his mind.
"Six. And yah. I know." I responded evenly, placing my own glass down upon the table once again.
A troubled look was now plastered across both of our faces as the ramifications of the Commander's actions began to sink in.
"Though. I can see where he's coming from I suppose," Shane began tentatively, watching as the dark look on my face grew deeper and deeper with each word he spoke. "But even I wouldn't condemn anyone, even the aliens, to death by MELD."
He shook his head a few times as no doubt the memories of his own eye modifications flashed by.
"I know what you mean. For all his victories, and all the lives he's saved. He really is a cold hearted bastard." I agreed quietly, refilling the glass in front of me once again.
"Seven." We both counted, as the glasses came back to rest on the table with a soft clunk.
"Well then. How are you holding up?"
I shrugged, glaring down at the empty glass in front of me. "Well enough, I suppose. I mean, even if he does end up dying or being brain-dead, it wouldn't be too much of a blow. Such is the way with war."
Shane nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean." He replied evenly, pouring another glass alongside me.
"Eight."
Glasses down once again, I took the initiative this time. "Why do you care so much then?"
A deep sigh emanate from my drinking partner, as he slumped back a little in the booth.
"Truthfully? I don't. All the same though, he was becoming one of us. And you know how I feel about you guys."
I nodded in understanding. "Like a family to you." I replied, lifting another full glass in mock salute to him, before downing it just as quickly as the last.
"Nine."
Leaning backwards a little, I felt the beginnings of a tingle in the back of my head as the alcohol finally began to make its rounds.
"So. Why do you care so much what happens to the new guy?"
I eyed the man across from me with distaste. Of course he would have picked up on it eventually. Though I had hoped it would have been after a few more shots.
"It's stupid, really," I explained, leaning back forwards onto the table's edge, eyeing the empty glass once more with distaste. "But he kind of grew on me while I was training him."
Another raised eyebrow from Shane was gesture enough to continue my train of thought.
"He and I are kind of similar, I guess." I shrugged, leaning back into the booth. "We both hide behind a fake smile. We are both very closed-off people. He let me get away with teasing and sarcastic comments more than anyone else. He's actually pretty smart, despite the number of bone-headed things he has said and done. I don't know. I guess I just felt like he was someone I could actually trust a little more than usual."
A couple raised eyebrows and a smirk from Shane had me glaring playfully at him. "Not like that," I chuckled, pouring another shot.
"Ten."
"More like an actual partner you know?" I said softly. "I mean, you know I love you and the rest of the squad, but I felt like he could possibly be someone I trust to watch my back. Kind of like how you watch and have Holly's back when she does something reckless, or how Jeff is always there to back up Chip when he charges in. That kind of partner. Know what I mean?"
I hear him chuckle a little, before rising another glass. "I think so. You want a battle brother."
I nodded, filling my own glass, raising it to meet his. "Yah. I guess I do..."
Clink, Clunk
"Eleven."
"Well for what it's worth, I hope he lives Lock. It would be nice to have a complete squad again." He concluded, carefully pouring the last of his bottle into the glass before him.
"Couldn't agree with you more," I nodded, following his lead, and emptying the last few drops of my own bottle into the glass before me.
"If I may," he stated, raising his glass again. "I would like to offer a toast."
"To family?" I asked, smirking.
"Not exactly," he smiled sadly. "To friends and family. Both past and present."
"Here, here," I agreed solemnly.
"Twelve."
Clunk
