Author's Note:
Hey, guys! Editing of the first couple of chapters per reviewer comments has not yet happened because it somehow took longer to catch up with all kinds of other things than I thought it would. Like, besides a full-time job, I've also recently taken on some freelance copyediting, and long story short, when you're editing, it's a bad idea to switch computers and programs while doing it because that can lead to all kinds of fun problems. Like your client not being able to read your comments or open the file you share with them, so you end up having to transfer comments because shenanigans. Protip for you beta readers out there! \o/
In any case! Now that I'm basically where I need to be with that, I should have a few moments to do the editing I was supposed to do this past week while the docs are still active in Doc Manager. So hopefully, you'll see improvements to the first couple of chapters with next week's update?
That said! Hello to Vengeance2 017, and thank you for the compliment! The cover picture is also something find-able via Google Image search (so heeeeeyyyyyy to Slulldom's comment concerning the wonders of Google Fu—and credit to Genius-dot-com for the image), and it's definitely one of my favorite meteor-related backgrounds out there. To Slulldom, that is indeed a wonderful question concerning the name of the parasite. ...A wonderful question that will be answered in a couple of chapters. 8D *covers up the old version of AEM, which she's yet to delete* And to the wonderful Neophilic, haha, and you have just summed up exactly why I love writing the interactions between these two. 8D 8D It's totally going to get better, imo. Because I just continue to had a grand ol' time writing these two in the chapters after this.
Speaking of, this author's note has gotten pretty lengthy, yes? So how's about we get right into Fun Hour with Bill and ████?
Five
D.E.V.A. CLEARANCE LEVEL 9
CLEARANCE ACCEPTED.
DOCUMENT TYPE: FILE
DESIGNATION: THE ADAM INCIDENT, FILE 03
DESCRIPTION: FIRST DRAFT OF D.E.V.A. CONTAINMENT FILE FOR INDIVIDUAL KNOWN AS 2000KH-B/02, CODENAME ADAM.
DATE-TIME: 10/10/02, 09:20
SUBJECT ID #: SE-650
CODE NAME: ADAM
CURRENT LOCATION: POLARIS INSTITUTE, CINNABAR ISLAND, KANTO
OBJECT CLASS: II, PENDING APPROVAL
CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: PENDING
ADDENDUM 650-01: ADMINISTRATIVE NOTES
My, my. [CODENAME ADAM] is certainly getting popular with us lately. First the incident report from Polaris and now this. —C-01
I trust Professor Oak has contacted you regarding this? —C-02
Yes. And I'm livid as hell. Who's in charge of indexing Adam? —C-01
The job was assigned to Dr. Sage along with indexing Abel. Professor Oak has been notified. —C-02
Retract Sage's orders. I'm assigning Polaris to myself. —C-01
That would not be advisable given your connection to Adam. —C-02
Listen here, you bug-eyed bastard. If you think I'd be emotionally compromised around [CODENAME ADAM], you have no idea who you're talking to. I've spent almost twenty years monitoring this boy. I know how to handle him. —C-01
Twenty years is enough time to form an emotional bond that will affect your judgment. —C-02
Exactly. Anyone else will be stupid enough to focus on studying [CODENAME ADAM]. I, on the other hand, know all too well that we're not dealing with any ordinary situation. —C-01
Clarification needed. —C-02
I'm saying something's happening at Polaris, and it goes well beyond [CODENAME ADAM]. You and Sage would be thick enough to believe this accident report, yeah? Oak and I know [CODENAME ADAM] well enough to know that his involvement's a dead giveaway. The boy may be as oblivious as a slowbro when it comes to what counts, but he's not stupid enough to infect himself. Either we're dealing with an entity that's stronger and smarter than we thought it was, or some dense bastard just violated the Yeled Protocol. I'm not reconsidering. I'm going to Polaris, and furthermore, if Adam's classification goes any further than this without my review, may God help whoever pushed it forward. Understood? —C-01
Understood. Good luck, sir. —C-02
—
Slowly, voices came back to Bill, picking their way out of the indeterminate hum to reach the surface of his brain.
"Pulse is increasing. Pulmonary functions detected. Sir, its eyes!"
The hum stopped.
"That's impossible! How long have its vital signs been unreadable?"
"Nine minutes, sir!"
"And it's still alive?!"
Bill squinted. What were they talking about?
"Withdraw the drone! Chansey, get out of there! Hold the call to Professor Oak! We need an update here!"
He turned his head, just in time to see a red light engulf a chansey right beside him. The light withdrew into a port in the wall as the oxygen mask that the pokémon had been holding dropped to the floor with a clatter.
Oxygen mask?
Bill sat up, blinking at the device.
"Sir! It's up! It sat up!"
"I can see that! Forget the hold on that call! We need Professor Oak right away! Gardevoir, disable it and prepare for containment!"
A blue glow colored Bill's world, and suddenly, he couldn't move. His voice caught in his throat in a strangled cry, and he strained against an invisible force to glance towards his other side. When he did, he came face-to-face with a gardevoir, enveloped in blue with its green arms outstretched towards him. Beyond it was a wall-length window. Scientists stood beyond it, gaping at him. Their assistants rushed behind them, donning reflective suits and black-visored masks. Panic welled in Bill's chest as he watched the assistants disappear at the edge of the window. A door next to it swung open, and the assistants filed in, darting directly to Bill's side.
"Sir," one of the scientists said. "Adrenaline spike!"
"Then watch out!" another replied. "Gardevoir, hold it down. The rest of you, reprogram the medical pod. Quickly! We need six CCs of sevoflurane before it breaks free!"
Hold it down? Hold what down? Bill's heart thudded rapidly as his mind raced to piece together what was going on through what little information he had. He had only a few seconds to think about it before the assistants gathered around the medical table he sat on. The unseen force strengthened on his limbs and chest, and he realized as he felt it push him down onto the bed that their orders were about him.
Which meant that the sevoflurane was for him too.
Realizing this, he squirmed weakly under the psychic hold. No, he thought. No! Please!
One of the assistants bent over a control panel in the base of the pod. As he listened to the clacking of keys, Bill felt a power grow inside him. It ebbed at the edge of his body and throbbed against the psychic field like water building up in a kinked hose. The medical pod whirred to life, and the hands of the other assistants reached down to pull Bill's wrists and ankles towards the edges of the pod. He felt one of the humans begin to tie restraints on his left hand, but that was nothing compared to the burning pain of the power building in his chest. His vision swam. His heart thundered. His body vibrated with energy.
And then, he couldn't hold it back.
"Let. Me. GO!" he screamed.
A brilliant, green light flooded the room and drove the assistants away from him. The invisible force holding him down vanished, and the restraint on his left hand ripped away. As soon as the green barrier around him dimmed, something in Bill's head clicked. He couldn't think about the assistants, nor could he wonder about the gardevoir. Everything inside him told him to run, and without thinking, he dove off the bed, rolled across the floor, and sprinted out of the room—on all fours.
If he had been thinking clearly, Bill would have stopped and realized what he was doing. But right then, all of his thoughts revolved around running. Running away from the scientists rushing out of his reach. Running into the door across the room and knocking it open. Running down the empty hall at full tilt. Above him, a siren burst to life, and red emergency lights flashed. Neither helped quell his confusion as his instincts demanded that he find a place to hide—and soon. Hurtling past locked lab doors, Bill frantically searched the walls for one particular sign. And when he found it, he slammed into its door and spilled into a men's bathroom.
Darting to the sinks, Bill rose to his feet, gripping the sides of one porcelain basin for stability. He panted for a long while, struggling to calm himself enough to get a grip on his thoughts. When he could finally think straight, he lifted his chin, glanced in the mirror, stared into the eyes of an unfamiliar face…
…And immediately descended back into panic.
He yelped and stumbled backwards, shielding himself with an arm. One that, as he noticed right then, wasn't made of soft, human flesh. Shaking, he held his hands in front of his face and examined the metal plates covering almost every inch of his arms. Glistening red garnets were set in his palms, but otherwise, his limbs were pure silver, from his smooth shoulder to the tips of his curved, clawed fingers. Pulling his hands to his torso, Bill listened in numb horror to the clicking sounds they made when they caressed the metal plates encasing his stomach and chest. The plates were smooth and polished, and there were no signs of the tendrils that radiated under his skin in his last memory. However, the parasite was still there, glistening from its place embedded in the armor over his heart. He touched it carefully but recoiled when he felt his fingertip against its jewel-like surface.
"What?" he breathed.
Glancing down, he found his feet: giant, three-taloned things that looked like they belonged more to a velociraptor than his body. Shuffling backwards, he watched his legs move—the way the ankle, now several inches above where it should have been, pulled the broad foot almost to his thigh with each step.
Then, he saw it. The most inhuman addition to his body. It snaked up his side, brushing his hip in an effort to avoid tripping him. The spade tip at its end flashed as it rose, and each segment of its reptilian length clacked nervously.
And he felt it. He felt it twist in the air. He felt it scrape across the hard floor. He felt every segment of it all at once, including the part, now that he thought about it, where it joined the rest of his body at the base of his spine.
"A tail," Bill whimpered as he shuffled forward and gripped the sink again. "A tail."
It shuddered and rested on the floor behind him. He, meanwhile, tried one more time to look at his reflection. Thankfully, his face was still largely human. Largely, that is, in that it was covered with human skin and still retained the shape and look of a human face. Except Bill's mouth hadn't been full of fangs as a human, his hair certainly wasn't iridescent and wiry as if it was made of optical fibers, and he most certainly didn't have horns. One of his trembling hands rose to touch the latter, tracing the blunted, cat-ear-shaped bone jutting out of the top of his skull. From there, the claw drifted down the side of Bill's head, feeling his human ears and the small plates on the sides of his neck until he came to the last change about himself: a collar.
The item was black and metallic, with a black box bearing Polaris's logo on its front. Bill grasped it and pulled, worming his nail underneath it just enough for him to realize that it wasn't actually part of his new body. He wasn't sure why, but he took a certain amount of relief from that.
I personally do not like it.
With a gasp, Bill pushed away from the sink and stared straight down, back at the jewel in his chest again. It flashed once with a pulsing light.
Impressive, the parasite said. I thought it would have taken you longer to piece together who was speaking. But then again, you are different from most humans. You did not lose yourself upon seeing your new form.
"You," Bill rasped. "What did you do to me?!"
I told you. Were you not listening? I explained to you that you will no longer live as a human and that I had changed you. Perhaps I was not clear enough, but what did you think I meant?
"I … I don't know! I thought it was figurative!" Bill moved to the sink and bent over it, clasping his hands over his head and pushing it down into the basin. "Change me back."
That is impossible.
He threw his hands into the air and tilted his head back. "Please!"
I cannot. The change is, as you say, one-way. The culmination of what we are is stronger than your human form, hence why it can survive the transformation. Your human body was too fragile. Even if I had the power to reverse the process, your human self would be rendered too weak to live.
"Blazes." Bill pressed a hand to his forehead. "This can't be happening. This isn't happening."
It is, and you must deal with it. You will be fine so long as—
"How could you say that?!" Bill screamed as he gripped the sink again. "I'm not human anymore! Do you understand what that means?!"
It means that you are now fully equipped to understand us.
"Don't joke about that!" Bill pushed off the sink and turned. Taking a few steps forward, he placed a hand over his chest. "I changed my mind. I want to dissolve the contract."
What?
"You heard me. I don't want this."
The contract cannot be dissolved, Bill. You and I had an agreement.
"You said that you could take over my corpse if need be. If that's the case, then do it! I don't want this!"
Bill. Do not make me do anything that the both of us will regret.
His fingers curled, scratching at the jewel in his chest. "Do what you want. I can't handle this. I—"
Before he could finish, his entire body seized. He dropped to his knees with a bang, and his vision darkened. It felt like someone was running an electric current through his body.
Do not be selfish, the parasite hissed. Do you not remember what you said to me? You wanted to protect your world. Are you seriously going to forget that desire just because I have given you the means to do it?
Unable to verbally respond, Bill shuddered and lowered his head. His eyes stung, and he felt tears running across his skin and drip onto the metal plates of his arms.
You are afraid. I understand that. It is alarming at first to come face to face with what you have become. But perhaps you should take pleasure in the fact that you are stronger than many other hosts. Most of them would have been driven insane by the first glance, yet here you are, shaking like a child. That alone is most hopeful.
"Stop," he whispered. "Just stop."
As frightening as it is, you must come to embrace this body, Bill. It is who you are now, and it is your best tool to carry out your chief desire. But more importantly, it is your protection.
A shiver ran through Bill's body, and he strained against the electric sensation just enough to press his forehead into the cold floor. "Please … please, I can't do this!"
You must. Why do you fear this change in yourself? Is it because you are afraid you cannot face your kind anymore? Is that truly much of a concern for you, who hid yourself away in a lighthouse far from civilization already?
Bill turned his head and cried into the floor. "No."
Then what is it? If you do not fear being alone, do you fear the unknown? No, that cannot be it. You do not fear the unknown but rather run towards it, do you not? Is that not your duty as a scientist? If that is so, then what might this fear be? Is it for frightening your kind? Being seen as a monster?
He didn't respond to that claim.
Ah. That is it, is it not? That you fear being a monster? I assure you, Bill, that that should not be a concern of yours. Allow me to emphasize why I have insisted that we forge a contract. You are a unique individual. Your mind is stronger than you give it credit for. Even when faced with months of complete isolation, you do not flinch, and when you probe a pokémon's mind while wearing its skin, you do not lose yourself in the delirium. You are stable. Fantastically so. And you are better than this. You are merely startled by the fact that this was not your choice, but I know you can adapt. Try.
The electric sensation stopped, and suddenly, Bill felt as if a weight had been lifted off his body. Carefully, he pushed himself onto his seat and pressed his eyes against the smooth metal of his arm. His armor felt hot against the skin of his face, and his skin felt blazing against his armor.
"That," he murmured with a forced laugh, "was the worst attempt at encouragement I have ever heard."
But I pushed you to think about it, did I not?
Bill shoved himself backwards until his shoulders pressed against the wall beneath the sink. The alarms still blared overhead, but for the first time, Bill noticed that they were muffled here. Not quite as grating. He clung to the pulsing scream because it, somehow, was less maddening than his entire situation.
"No. But the alternative is not an option, is it? You're not going to let me die."
According to our agreement, I cannot. It is my duty to do no harm to you. Standing by and allowing you to do harm to yourself counts. Therefore, it is in my best interests to stop you.
"Your best interests." Bill glanced at the parasite. "That sounds … ominous."
It is meant to be an accurate statement. Until your best interests involve surviving, I am afraid I must decide what is right for you.
"Fantastic," Bill murmured as he tilted his head back.
A new sound filtered through the wall right then. Shifting, Bill pressed the side of his face against the tiles. His eyebrows furrowed as he strained to listen through the concrete to the other side.
There were dogs barking. Growlithe, to be specific. And they were getting closer.
Bill pulled his face away from the wall and stared at it in confusion.
Growlithe, the symbiont recited. A fire-type pokémon of the puppy species. Extremely loyal to its trainer. Will bark at any opponent to protect them from harm.
"Why are they here?" Bill whispered.
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you escaped.
"Escaped…?" Bill drew himself out from under the sink and stood, resting one hand on the basin and the other on his head. "Oh. Oh no. Not good."
Obviously. What are you going to do about it?
"I-I don't know." He pressed his eyes shut. "Hold on. Let me think."
The barking was getting louder. Bill could hear it through the wall without having to press himself against it, and the longer he stood, the more the barking drowned out the alarms. His tail whipped behind him in agitation, and he focused on that to ground himself. A plan. He needed a plan. Opening his eyes, he gripped his head and heaved a frustrated sigh. Only one idea came to mind.
"I need to talk to them," he said plainly. "If they're really after me, then I need to tell them this has all been a misunderstanding."
I highly doubt that would work.
"Well, I don't have many other options here!" he hissed. "I can't fight them. That will only establish that I am a monster. I can't run because there's no way out of this building except through security, and hiding is likewise out of the question. The only reasonable solution is talking to them. Who knows? Maybe they're not after me. And if they are, perhaps they'll listen to what I have to say if I'm reasonable with them."
And if they do not listen?
Bill stood and stalked back to the door of the bathroom. His tail swayed behind him, brushing against the floor with gentle scratches. Back and forth. Back and forth. The tiny splinter of panic in his brain faded away with each scratch he heard.
When he reached the door, he pressed a palm against its metal surface and waited. The barking drew closer and closer and closer until it was just outside the door. Then it turned into a steady growl.
"If they don't," Bill whispered, "then I'll figure something out when I get to that."
He pushed the door open and stumbled into the hallway, right into the arms of security personnel. Growlithe formed a half-circle around the door, their teeth bared and their fur standing on end. Behind them, nine security officers gathered. Bill couldn't see any of their faces. All of them wore padded, black suits and black helmets with reflective visors. But frankly, Bill wasn't that interested in seeing what they looked like. He couldn't be, after all, considering that the nine stun guns they pointed directly at him drew his attention away from their uniforms, save for the initial cursory glance. Their gloved fingers moved over the guns' triggers, and right then, Bill could hear nine soft clicks under the howl of the siren. Any second, it would be followed by a snap, and if Bill didn't act soon, that snap would be followed by the hum of electricity—directly into his body.
Now, he decided, was the best time to pray that his plan worked.
"Stop!" he shouted as he raised his hands. "Don't shoot! I'm not going to hurt you!"
They hesitated. A few even stepped back slightly. The guns, however, were still trained on Bill. Slowly, carefully so as not to make any sudden movement, he lowered his hands halfway.
"Listen," he said. "If it's me you're looking for, then I need to know what's going on. I want to speak with anyone who can answer a few questions I have in mind. Can you get me in contact with Professor Oak?"
For a long moment, none of them moved. They simply stood, guns trained on Bill. He sighed and let his hands fall to his sides.
"Please." He shook his head. "If it would help, my name is Bill McKenzie. I'm a member of the behavioral team. My ID number is—"
One of the guards holstered her gun and turned away. She pulled a small cellphone from her belt and lifted it to her visor, and her thumb pressed two buttons on its face. Holding it inches from her helmet, she spoke loudly into the receiver.
"Sir? We've located Adam in Sector 3 East. But there's a problem. He wants to speak with you."
The guard pressed a button on the side of the phone and waited. After a few seconds, a voice boomed from the phone.
"Speak with me?" Professor Oak responded. "What's this about?"
Pressing the button again, the guard replied, "You'd better hear for yourself." Then, turning the phone towards Bill, she nodded. "Go on. But don't you dare try anything. You've still got eight stunners on you, understand?"
Bill nodded and stepped forward. Just one step. All of the guns trained on him clicked again as a warning against another. He swallowed hard and stared at the phone; he knew that one wrong word would mean his next move would be falling on the floor, writhing in pain.
"Hello?" Professor Oak called.
"Professor," Bill replied. "It's me."
"Me…? Good gods! Bill?!"
Bill couldn't help but smile. This was the first good thing that had happened since he awoke in the laboratory—or, possibly, even the first good thing that had happened since he arrived at Polaris. With a deep breath, he nodded, even though Oak couldn't see the gesture.
"Yes. This is Bill, Professor Oak. It's … it's great to hear from you."
"The same could be said about you," Oak replied. "Are you all right?"
Bill eyed the guards and flashing emergency lights skeptically. "All things considered, yes."
"Oh! Right! Hold on."
The line went quiet for nearly half a minute until the sirens and lights stopped abruptly. In their place, there was a thick silence and the fluorescence of the hallway's normal lighting. Bill flinched at the brightness and the quiet. All around him, he heard the clicking of the guns, and when he opened his eyes, he saw eight of the nine guards stand back, holding the stun guns to their chests. The growlithe at their feet calmed considerably, padding backwards until they sat beside their human companions. Not a single one of them looked visibly relaxed, however. Just not aggressive.
"Ah! There we go! Sorry," Oak said. "Now then. Let's get back to business. Bill, how are you feeling?"
"A-all right, I suppose," Bill responded. "Professor, what exactly is going on?"
"Hmm. Bill? You aren't hearing any voices, are you?"
Bill turned back to the phone. "What?!"
I think he means me, the parasite responded quickly.
"Oh." Bill grinned awkwardly. "That's nothing to worry about. He's a friend."
"A friend?"
"Well … yes. I suppose you could call him that," Bill replied. "He and I have an agreement."
"An agreement?"
"It's difficult to explain, but the simplest way would be to say he's given me my body in exchange for information. You're still speaking to me, and you will be in the foreseeable future, if that's what you're concerned about."
There was a long pause. And as the moments ticked by in silence, Bill began to realize something was terribly wrong.
"Professor?" he asked.
"Bill," Oak responded, "I need to tell you everything that's happened. In person."
Something was horribly wrong. Bill almost cringed at how wrong this was. Why was Oak's tone so grave? Why was he asking about the parasite? Why were there nine armed guards and at least ten trained guard growlithe surrounding him?
"The sooner the better," Bill answered.
"Good," Oak said. "In the meantime, I want you to stay as calm as possible, and if you feel any different than you are right now, fight it."
What? Bill stared at the phone, stunned. What was Oak talking about? Feel any different? Fight it? Fight what?
The small needle of panic Bill felt earlier was emerging again, and he shuddered slightly.
"Okay," he finally said.
"Good. Professor Nettle should be arriving any moment now. She'll escort you to where I'll meet you. See you soon, Bill."
With that, the guard snapped the phone closed. Bill stood awkwardly, staring at the device in her hand as he went over what Oak had just told him a second ago. His eyes shifted downward, and he desperately wanted to speak with the parasite but knew that doing so would risk being stunned down.
Do not concern yourself with that, it told him. I can hear you just fine. And no, your friend's concerns do not apply to us, although they most certainly apply to others that are of my kind.
Bill twitched. His mind honed in on another question to ask, one he carefully composed in his head with the hopes that the creature inside him would read it. But before he could finish, the clacking of formal shoes on the floor broke his concentration. Glancing up, he saw the guards part to allow Professor Nettle through. Her hazel eyes glared icily at Bill for a long while.
"Professor Nettle," Bill breathed. "It's good to see you. Professor Oak told me that you—"
He stopped short when she stepped aside to reveal a jynx standing behind her. One of Nettle's hands rose in the air, her thin fingers flashing in a snap. In response, the jynx moaned and waltzed forward with her lips puckered and her eyes narrowing.
"What's this?" Bill demanded, shuffling backwards.
"Task Force Alpha," Nettle said to the guards, "thank you for your diligence and swiftness in locating him before Polaris's forces could. Giovanni will be most pleased with your efforts."
As if to punctuate her comments, the barrel of one of the guards' stun guns pressed against Bill's back, keeping him from moving any further away from her. In front of him, the jynx stopped as her lips took on a pink glow. She raised a hand to her face and kissed her fingers lightly, and as she drew them away, the pink light pulled out of her skin and flashed into the shape of a pink heart. The jynx swept her hands outwards, shooting the heart directly at Bill. In the ensuing seconds, Bill realized he was too close, too slow to dodge. He could only shout in surprise just before the pink light hit him directly in the face and splashed across his skin with a warm, humid blast. A tingling sensation rushed through his body, and all of a sudden, he felt heavy and tired. He dropped to one knee, and as he pressed his hands to the floor, he fought against the urge to sleep with everything he had.
But he already knew he was going to lose.
"Lovely Kiss," Bill gasped. "Why…?"
"We were going to use Anderson," Nettle explained simply, "but you surprised us when you awoke and escaped from Laboratory G on your own. It's strange that you can think clearly as well. Our benefactor would be most interested in these developments, and your escape would provide a convenient cover. You lost control and had to be put down messily. Quite a simple explanation, isn't it?"
Bill sank a little lower. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.
"I don't understand."
Nettle strode forward and petted her jynx. "You don't need to understand. Just know that you're being donated to a worthy cause."
"Worthy … no."
With that, Bill slumped over sideways. His last vision was that of the guards stooping down to place small, metal balls in a square around his body. And then, he shut his eyes and gave in to sleep.
In that last second of darkness, he heard the symbiont.
Now would be a good time for that alternate plan, Bill.