Year 20XX
They owed their lives to Professor Von Slickstein, the father of bionics. His advancements reshaped military warfare and defense, but more importantly, he revolutionized prosthetics making them affordable and accessible to both disabled veterans and civilians alike.
Bionics, when guided by the right intentions, can pull people back from the brink of death. But under the wrong hands, it's a double-edged sword. Death is a natural cycle: we are born, we consume, and eventually, we die. Whether by age, homicide, or suicide, the outcome is inevitable. But Dr. Claw... he refuses to accept that. Over the years, his obsession has only deepened, twisting him into something far more dangerous, far more unstable.
No matter how many MAD agents he hired, Dr. Claw could never kill the Lieutenant. Every attempt ended in failure, every scheme unraveled. "I'll get you next time, Gadget," he always vowed, but that time never came. It never would. His frustration festered, feeding into something darker. If he couldn't destroy the Lieutenant, he would break those closest to him. And so, his focus shifted to his family, his friends, his allies.
Chief Quimby was the first to go. Age had already started to slow him down; his eyesight wasn't what it used to be, and time had chipped away at his reflexes. Bionics could change that enhance him, make him stronger, maybe even grant him a second youth. But there were always strings attached. Dr. Claw had no interest in generosity. He had a plan, and to execute it, he needed experts. He found them among Professor Von Slickstein's former employees: disillusioned minds willing to push boundaries.
Chief Quimby wasn't a mere hostage. He was an experiment, a test subject. Dr. Claw wasn't just altering him, he was claiming him. This was never about making sure the Lieutenant outlived his loved ones. It was about control. If he couldn't kill them, he would own them, extending their lives just as long as Gadget's. It was a move designed to force the Lieutenant's hand, to back him into an impossible corner.
Work with his enemy, or watch his loved ones become something unrecognizable.
Dr. Claw's pet project was finally coming to fruition. The first stage was already in motion. The Lieutenant would be left with no choice: his loyalty, his morals, everything he stood for would be tested. And Dr. Claw knew him well enough to be certain: Gadget would never abandon the people he cared about.
That was the weakness he planned to exploit.
Through cybernetics, Dr. Claw was no longer bound by the limits of life and death. His empire, weary of failure, had found its next evolution. No more expendable agents. No more fleeting victories.
He would take them all...one by one.
Chief Quimby - Day 1
A weakened Chief Quimby was far too kind, remaining friendly and diplomatic in the face of one of Dr. Claw's henchmen. He was tossed into a small room, immaculate in its simplicity. Despite its size, the room was surprisingly accommodating for someone who was considered the enemy. It had most of the comforts of home: a warm bed, a nightstand with some stationery (was Dr. Claw expecting him to write his own last will and testament?), a working thermostat, and even a small desk fan perched on a nearby table. What kind of message was Dr. Claw sending as Chief Quimby examined the room?
There was even a small bathroom attached to the room, but as Chief Quimby expected, there were no exits, no windows, and no ventilation, nothing to allow him to escape. Chief Quimby could only conclude that the room existed to avoid the need for MAD agents to escort him to another restroom within the building. It was much easier to keep him locked away while Dr. Claw focused on whatever other plans he had. Knowing that Chief Quimby was being held hostage, this room suggested one thing: he might be here for an extended period before Lieutenant Gadget found him.
The room was small and cramped, a constant reminder of just how at the mercy of Dr. Claw he truly was. It wasn't just the lack of space that made it uncomfortable, it was the feeling of being confined, the kind of space that felt too much and not enough at the same time. There was enough room for him to walk around and sit on the floor without feeling like a sardine, but somehow, the space felt oppressive, as if it were taking up more room than it should.
But that was the thing Chief Quimby had worked in office spaces that felt less suffocating than this one. Perhaps, when the workload piles up, the more space it takes to accommodate it. But life, as it often does, dictates that the space we occupy changes over time. Yet this room: this oppressive, unyielding space wasn't going to change. And neither was the situation. Who knew how long it would be before help arrived? This room would stay the same, but Chief Quimby understood one thing, it might be this very space that changed him.
Chief Quimby tried to maintain an optimistic mindset, but deep down, he couldn't shake the doubt that Lieutenant Gadget wouldn't be able to find him in time. The suffocating small room he was confined to offered far too many comforts, comforts he never expected from his captor. Instead of a cold, stony prison with iron bars and a filthy mattress, Quimby found himself in a room that resembled a five-star hotel. The warm bed, the nightstand, the working thermostat, it all seemed too kind for someone trapped in a situation like his. But Quimby couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. This room, far too generous for a prisoner, made him uneasy. Was it a sign of Dr. Claw's twisted sense of hospitality, or was there something more sinister behind the illusion of comfort? He didn't know yet, but what he did know was that the room, despite its amenities, didn't make him feel safe. It only reminded him that this situation was far from over and the longer he stayed, the more his sense of helplessness grew. No matter how generous Dr. Claw appeared, Quimby knew one thing for sure: he was still a prisoner.