Mega-corporations hold massive political and economic sway. Some of these mega-corporations hold more sway than many nations. These groups of millions of employees are packs of cutthroat predators, but nothing like wolf packs. In a world of fish, mega corps are shark tanks of titanic proportions, each predator watching for weakness among their peers to lunge for an exposed throat to claim territory, resources, and/or power. In order for the sharks on top to keep their underlings occupied and their throats free from teeth, they keep competition razor sharp with cliff-steep stakes and the finger pointed at other corporate shark tanks. When you have more than one mega corp office in a settlement, there will always be strife between them, even between partners. Because of this unspoken corporate law, there have been more than a few corporate wars.
It was the day of the corporate party and trade deal. The majority of our squad watched the front of the Evea-Life Corporation. The mega-scraper building was a monument of abstract glass and steel dedicated to greed and exploitation. It was a tower that vanished into the smog clouds overhead in a curved and pompous stab at the angels above.
Our squad had arrived a full three hours before the corp-rat party was due to start. The preparations for this mission had cost a heavy purse because of the need for a rush job to get every prop stage-ready in time. Skitter, the Hacker, was going to be able to buy his own sky-villa after what we had to pay him. The Arachnyte had pulled together a list of resources for our squad and in record time. We were armed with aliases, security seals, uniforms, and some specialized equipment I couldn’t build and certainly wouldn’t be found on any legal market.
I did still build some support gear within my wheel-house for our team. Everyone was armed with knockout dart launchers to capture our quarry without unnecessary struggling. Affixed to each person on the team with two specialized disguise pins shaped to blend in with the individuals’ uniforms. These illusion pins were specially tailored to hide who we were against the countless cameras and guards in the building. I had already been branded a terrorist, but no one else in the squad should be put in that same position. So, I had every teammate tagged with one pin to change their appearance in just enough ways to throw off recognition from employees and partygoers. For double assurance, I ensured each teammate wore a pin that would scramble their entire form on camera view, only making their faces and bodies appear blurred.
Six of our seven members sat in a shabby white van in the parking lot of the mega-corp. The van had a hastily printed sticker logo for an imaginary catering company slapped on the side, and it was already starting to peel.
We needed to enter the building in separate groups, and each act with the utmost caution. The building before us was a fortress, occupied by corrupt social predators who would kill any or all of us on sight if they knew what we had planned. But the lights on in the tower were few and only becoming fewer. The corp-rat chiefs had sent almost everyone home for the evening in anticipation of the party and the mess it would bring.
Nennel, Ozwald, and I had visible access seals to the kitchen. We would blend in with the wait staff for the event under the story of extra support for the event. Zynna and Ferris had access seals to the research and development floors. Zynna also acquired entry into the laboratories since she stole a lab worker’s access card at a local diner. Ferris was playing as her disgruntled intern. Kharmor had access seals to the basement under the guise of a generator technician from the holding company, Source-Fold Energies.
Kharmor was the first person to enter the front doors of the rats’ nest. Skitter had impersonated an employee of Source-Fold Energies, calling Evea-Life offices to inform them of a random inspection of their building shield generator and any related systems. Khar appeared as a full Dwarf with a blond beard tied in four braids, sea-blue eyes, and wearing a Source-Fold engineer uniform. Our Half-Dwarf comrade walked in, stocked with a series of devices on his person that would make a corporation weep at the potential loss. Khar made his way to the basement with no issues. Beneath the tower were the shield generators, local servers, and automated defense control hub, among other critical systems. He was going to wreak total havoc when he started the forced extraction.
Next came Zynna and Ferris, disguised as a lab worker and a lab tech respectively, each with security seals that matched. They both walked in looking annoyed and tired, though I doubted Ferris had to pretend the tired bit. Our favorite Quint had been up the whole night before, stressing about… something that he was hiding from everyone.
Finally, an hour and a half before the party, Nennel, Ozwald, and I stepped into the lobby of Evea-Life, looking intimidated. Just passing through the front doors allowed me to notice the vaguely hidden floor and ceiling tiles hiding automated turrets. As I walked deeper into the lobby, I tried not to acknowledge the tiles that were obviously pressure plates for explosive anti-personnel mines. I also pointedly did not look at the hidden doors that likely would grant local-area access to security bots and personnel in the event of an assault.
Instead, I focused on how the space smelled strongly of lemon and disinfectant. The room had recently been scrubbed and sanitized of organic material. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been another band of thieves, scraped off the floor and cleansed after an attempt at the treasure within this fortress tower.
Kharmor had already headed down below. Ferris and Zynna were already above. If we botched this, everyone might die. Little more than another grease smear on the walls. I tried not to think about how I could become just one more Corpse Number of the company. An undead slave with no identity working until I could provide no further use. But the thoughts and anxiety came all the same.
“Hey there, Mr. Guard-guy,” Ozwald greeted the reception desk guard in a genial tone painted over a Rhythemian accent and a warm wave of his hand. “We’re brought in as extra help for the party up top.” Ozwald continued, leaning on the reception desk with a jovial energy tinted with poorly hidden intimidation. “I was wondering if you could wire us up top to the kitchen?” He requested with a bright but nervous smile. “The leading lady bought our tab, and we aim to please. Want to get there bright and early to make a good show. You hear me?”
“I-uh.” The guard stuttered in surprise at Ozwald’s jovial display. “I’ll need to call her to make sure.” The Human guard pulled up the holo-display for the building messaging system and started scrolling through the registry. Ozwald gently pressed two fingers through the holo-display of contacts the guard was scrolling through, halting the search. “Mz. Ozwald told us not to bother her when we got here. She was firm when she instructed me and my team to just quietly join the catering.” Ozwald said with just the right amount of stress when mentioning interrupting his own mother. He withdrew his hand and tapped his therra with two fingers as if pulling up a message. “Mz. Oz said that she wants no interruptions, no mistakes, no snags in her event.” Ozwald said with a more tired voice and stressed smile that turned just slightly predatory as he said, “Mz. Oz said that if we earn our keep, we might get a fat bonus. If she can make whatever deal this whole thing is hinging on, that is.” The predatory air vanished as he shifted into a clearly false air of ignorance. “Not that I know about the deals of those big fish. But we tuna still gotta eat, am I right?” There was a hint of an edge he flashed through what I could only call a circus smile. The smile of someone who makes their living off the exploitation of the momentary pleasures of guests, just so they can make ends meet.
That was the point when I realized that Ozwald’s nervousness he was showing the guard in glimpses wasn’t the kind of nervous related to a life-threatening stunt and illegal actions. The nervous energy he was slipping out was that of someone with a cruel boss looking for an excuse to dole out punishment. That slight tweak to his performance, only sparsely sprinkled throughout his interaction, made it much more organic and easy to believe. It turned out that Oz was actually an immensely talented infiltrator. I had been short-changing the guy.
“Did she say as much?” The guard asked, obviously worried about a reprimand. “I don’t want to bother Mz. Ozwald unless I have no other choice. That woman was a shark in Human skin.” Only then did I notice the bags under the guard’s eyes and a slight tremor in his hands. It seemed that our unwitting host had been proverbially driving screws into the knuckles of the guard, and I doubted he was the only one. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the overworked man behind the desk and worry about the fallout my team’s actions would bring down on him and who knew how many other low-rung employees.
Ozwald gave a shark’s grin to the guard. “She told us just to step in and disappear. We’re the best wait staff in the district, and we’re supposed to be wall flowers with serving trays. ‘Seen and not heard. Not a single word’. That’s what she insisted on after haggling our price down but almost two-thirds.” Ozwald spoke the quote as if from a woman with venom in her veins. From what I had heard of Oz’s mother, this impersonation was spot on.
“Fine, fine. I just need to see your seals.” The guard complained even as he pulled up an identifier interface on another holo-display. An unseen camera scanned all three of us and pulled up our false citizen profiles. The guard gave each of them a cursory inspection before closing the display and waving us toward the elevators. “You’re allowed in. But understand me when I say: No wandering. You don’t want to go poking your nose in places it shouldn’t in this building. You’re liable to get that nose cut right off if you do.”
“I hear you, loud and clear.” Ozwald said with a two-finger mock salute.
After we pushed the button to call the elevator, I probed Ozwald. “Is your mother really that bad?” I whispered. There was a long period of silence until we stepped into the confined metal box. As the doors closed, Ozwald answered. “You have no idea. The woman will put power above everything. Her only goal is to get as high up the ladder as she can before she dies. I have no doubt that the woman will be playing the corporate predator into her nineties.”
“Sh-should we kill her?” I nervously asked.
“I- I don’t know.” Ozwald answered through his Caucasian mask. I watched the paler face with softened cheekbones and a wider jaw. Even under his facade, I could read the complex expression on his face for an extended moment before he slipped his social mask back on. I recognized the pain of countless wounds, old and new, layered under a mix of an age-old longing for relief from that pain and a fear of what that relief would cost. I might suffer from a degree of social ignorance, but I could recognize the bitter cocktail I had sipped from for my whole life. His only seemed to be a more political-bitter admixture than my own brutal-bitter poison I had forced my throat by Thallos, countless strangers in my life, and, to a lesser degree, my own father.
Both Ozwald and I had toxic parental figures in our lives. My father had always been fast to strike with a hand when I misbehaved. Thallos had talked me into pushing through training so brutal that everyone who knew the details had called it torture. Ozwald had mentioned that his mother was an absentee in his life, but given what he had said to the guard and the momentary glimpse under the mask, it sounded like it was better when she was absent.
I had already solidified my resolve to end Thallos for what he had done to me and my father. But Ozwald, on the other hand, was fixating on the idea of his mother’s death, and he didn’t have the same resolution to snatch for revenge and freedom.
“She’s a nightmare to anyone she singles out.” Ozwald said in a flat tone. “She will stalk and metaphorically gut anyone that could possibly give her an edge. She is the shark in the dark waters. The woman has never really been what a kind or honest person would call Human, or anything living, for that matter. My mother has always had the heart of a ghoul, but after my brother died… she only got worse. She’s been diving deeper into the corporate world, hunting bigger prey, taking bigger gambles, and cutting more professional arteries. But she bites first and questions after.”
“We’re taking shark bait from a shark who, in turn, intended to catch a bigger shark.” I stated, playing off Ozwald’s analogy. “If she learns that we snatched her shark bait, she’ll come after us.”
“Then we don’t get caught.” Ozwald said with hollow confidence as he straightened his server jacket. That was when the elevator doors slid open with an electric chime.
As one, we passed into the kitchen for the top floors. The white-walled space was spotless to an insane degree and filled with a whirlwind of motion. To my right was a row of gleaming stove tops, only a scant few of them active with something simmering, boiling, or baking. Every tool in the space that wasn’t in use was so clean I would say you could eat off it, but I might not even recommend that. Install-new appliances and utensils were dirtier than anything found in the space. The countertops were staged with golden trays of dishes so extravagant that it looked like a single bite would cost the lobby guard’s yearly salary. Cooks and their aids flew around the room, juggling tasks like a circus act.
“I-um.” I stammered, stunned by the controlled chaos of the space.
A Borrowbon Orc chef marched up to us with an authority you could only find with a head chef. His chocolate and midnight patterned skin gleamed with a thick sheen of sweat, and his prominent brow was furrowed with tension. “More servers? Excellent. What company are you with?”
Ozwald stepped forward to greet the burly man with a firm handshake. “Good to meet you, boss.” He spoke with an even thicker Rhythemian accent than he had with the guard. The chef wiped off his hands with his apron before trading grips with Oz. “We are with Platinum Platter Catering.” The name belonged to a totally fictitious shell company we had thrown together. I honestly doubted that after the events of that night, the cover would last out the week. “We’re the best in the business. But, mind if I ask, how many are supposed to be at this party? You look like you’re ready to feed a battalion.”
“It’s only bout ten or so. The problem is that guest of honor.” The large chef massaged his eyes with one hand as he explained. “Mz. Oz didn’t say anything till an hour ago bout him being a fragging Ursidae Primal. And a Goliath Mountian Grizzly Tribe, no less. I’ve seen Kolterath shorter than that bear man, I swear.”
“That does sound like trouble.” Ozwald agreed, holding his arms and definitively nodding his head. “But I expect no less from that shark of a woman.”
“Best not let her hear that. She’s likely to throw you right off the roof.” The Orc warned.
“Right. Good point.” Ozwald said. “Just in case we need to make a speedy exit, I’ll send our newby to find the emergency exits.”
I turned to Nel and gave her a single nod before we both went our separate ways. She entered the hallway and started a search for emergency exits that would meet our needs. She would tag the necessary path with tiny, wall-mounted holo-projector devices that would remain off until needed.
“Emergency is right, if you upset her. I honestly can’t blame you for keeping a panic button on hand.” The Chef said with a huff. “At least one of you best get the lay of the land before things kick off.” With that he waved a hand to dismiss us as he turned to speak with a cook.
I stepped into the main area where the party was going to be hosted.
The meeting room sat in the center of six offices with glass walls on all sides save for the back wall of each office, which was a remote-projection display screen showing a view imitating the view of an exterior glass wall. I almost would’ve believed that it was an authentic view if I didn’t already know that the roof directly above us stretched miles across. Set in the middle of the meeting room was a long metal and glass table with ornate detailing down the legs and along the edge. Any chairs meant to be paired with the table were absent, forcing everyone to stand and mingle. This ring of offices and the meeting space nested in the center clearly belonged to some of the most powerful men and women in the building, if not the company.
Mz. Oswald must’ve had some steep stakes on this operation if sharks bigger than her were loaning out this space.
I patrolled the space, inspecting each office as I walked by, looking for anything that would cause trouble. I searched for panels concealing automated turrets, any sign of hidden gunmen, and secret doors in the walls that might conceal an ambush, among other possible threats. I also kept my magical senses pricked for anything I had alignment with. Anything with traces of Death or Ruin Myst was my particular focus in the search. I also couldn’t rule out that Mz. Ozwald might poison the food to win the day. I found nothing of suspect, and that had me worried.
“Excellent view, isn’t it.” spoke a familiar and hated voice from behind me. I tried to control my reaction, but a slight twitch slipped out. I double-checked my disguise in the reflection of the glass wall in front of me. I still looked like a copper-haired Human man with freckles. Casually, I looked over my shoulder to find Thallos standing there with a crystal decanter of something amber-colored in one hand. “You can’t get a view of the stars like this anywhere else in the city. It’s easy to forget that they exist when you live under a blanket of smog.” He stepped up beside me to gaze at the starry sky projected on the exterior walls. Stars I hadn’t even noticed.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen stars. They seem brighter than I remember.” I spoke conversationally. Internally, I was clawing at the inside of my head. The desire to slip my Infusion Dagger between his ribs was almost overwhelming. However, I kept a firm grip on my emotions. I refused to be the reason that this mission went up in flames.
“The stars always seem brightest when the surrounding darkness is at its deepest.” Thallos sounded like he was conveying some deep wisdom, but he only sounded like a self-inflated ass blowing hot air. I still played along. “Torches of diamonds locked in the Stygian void. They look so close to each other. But are actually separated by more distance than a mortal can fathom. That must be a lonely existence.”
“Sometimes isolation is best. You can’t get hurt by anyone else that way.” He turned to look at me. “How rude of me to drop such heavy thoughts on a stranger without introducing myself.” He offered his hand in greeting. “The name’s Reed Judge.” I hesitated for a moment before accepting his grip and providing my own introduction, “Vetos Cliffroad.”
“Glad to meet you, Vetos. I take it you’re working the event.”
“That’s what they’re paying me for. What about you, Mr.Judge? Work or pleasure?” I asked.
Thallos slipped his free hand into a pocket of his dress slacks and gave a casual shrug as he sipped at his beverage. “I’m hoping for both. I’m here to act as the middleman between the two companies.”
“So Mr.Judge is playing judge for a business deal. Guess you’re living up to the name.” I said the lame joke just to reply with something that wouldn’t hint at my identity.
Thallos gave a hearty laugh as he turned, leaned his back against the glass wall we stood before, and rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to recoil from the touch. “You seem stressed about the night. Don’t worry. If everything goes to plan, we’ll all leave here with what we deserve.” He pushed off the glass wall as he said, “Well, I need to track down our hostess. Need to wrap up a few things before the party really kicks off. So, I’ll catch you during the party.”
I watched the wretched man leave the room to step into an adjoining hallway through a pair of lavish doors. Once I was certain that he wasn’t coming back, I passed through the kitchen into a different hall from the one Thallos stepped into. “Nel, how are things going on your end?”
“So far, so good.” Nennel replied. “I’ve tagged four exit paths. Three are decoys, and the real one is marked with green font instead of red. I’m on my way back to the kitchen to keep up my cover.”
“Sounds good. Keep an eye out for our targets, and let me know when you’ve singled them out.”
“Can do.”
“Great. I’m going to check in with the others.” I ended the call with Nennel and rang Kharmor.
As soon as the Half-Dwarf answered the call, I started questioning. “You set up the interference devices?”
“Yes.” Kharmor answered, sounding annoyed.
“And the DDEs?” I pressed.
“Yes, they’re set up.”
“And you set them up near the energy shield generator and automated defense control hub?”
“Yes, Iver. And the master server room, wireless communication hub, and building power distribution center.”
“I just need to be sure. And remember, when you come up-”
“Iver!” Kharmor snapped. “I know the plan. Head straight to the rooftop and hunker down until the show starts.”
I bit back a sharp retort to his snap at me, instead simply hanging up without warning and calling Ferris. When he picked up, I questioned him just like I had Khar. “You and Zynna find the formulas?”
“Uh. Yeah. We found them. But Iver… you’re going to want to come here and see this for yourself.” Ferris spoke in a tone both disturbed and distant. If his words caused me to worry, his tone almost drove me to panic.
“See what for myself?” I pressed.
“Just come to Lab 3342 on the thirty-second floor. I can’t even put this into words.”
I hung up on Ferris and continuously spat venomous curses as I made my way to the nearest restrooms. I slipped into the men’s room and turned my Mimic Facade to another guise. I left the men’s room as a male High Elf in a lab outfit. I attempted to look casual on my way to the elevators, but my pace was still only a twitch away from becoming a sprint.
I rode the elevator down to the thirty-second floor and sought out the room Ferris had designated. I found a hologram label reading ‘Laboratory 3342’ beside a pair of reinforced security doors. Instead of knocking or calling Ferris back, I sent him a text, preferring to avoid making unnecessary sounds.
After a few seconds, I heard a door behind the security doors open, and Ferris granted me access. Ferris led me through a man trap door system and into a large room full of science and magic equipment. The space was practically overflowing with the scent of sterilizing chemicals, causing my eyes to brim with unshed tears of discomfort while my nose hairs curled.
I looked to Ferris to ask him what was so important to threaten derailing the plan, but I came up short when I noticed his face. His normally bronzed skin was drained of color as if he had been attacked by a vampire. His gaze was distant and haunted.
“Fer’. What’s wrong?”
“We found live test subjects. It’s worse than we thought. Much worse.”
“Where are the test subjects?” I asked.
Ferris pointed to a door across the room without looking at it. “If you need me, I’ll be with Zynna in the data room.” Without waiting for my response, Ferris hurriedly walked to another door, passing through and shutting it with nervous energy.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” I asked the empty room. With no answer coming to my question, I moved to the door Ferris had indicated. Passing through the doorway, I found myself standing in a dead-end hall lined with holding cells. The walls of each cell were Static Kinetic Shields.
The first thing I noticed was the cells themselves. Each was a perfect cube of nine feet, with walls, floor, and ceiling formed from a single Static Kinetic Shield projected from devices at the corners of the energy cube. They were Capture Cells.
Each cell held what once were people, but not anymore. There were dozens of these Capture Cells, and each one I glanced in was occupied. Every cell along the walls also displayed a hologram label, list of details, and charts reading the information of each occupant. I quickly realized that the energy walls of each capture cell functioned similarly to one-way glass. I could see in, but the subjects couldn’t see out.
Every occupant I saw was deformed, and the further down the hall I went, the more nightmares I collected.
The first dozen cells held victims marred with asymmetric growth masses of inflated muscle and tissue. One victim displayed a bulbous bicep the size of a sports ball in one arm, while the same muscle on the opposite arm remained in natural proportions. Another victim’s lower lip and right cheek were so enlarged that I would’ve thought that a whole nest of particularly venomous wasps had stung him. These men and women were in varying states of despair, rage, or desperation. Some sobbed in a corner or their space. Others screamed at seemingly nothing.
I checked the notes and readings of a few of the test subjects, chosen at random. There were no names, only serial numbers used to identify each victim. Below each subject’s serial number, were details on their physical state when they started the process and compared them to their current physical state. Below the state comparison were notes on how many doses of a formula the individual had been subjected to and what results arose.
The farther down the hall I walked, the more malformed the subjects I passed were. I also noticed something as I started to encounter the older test subjects. The longer someone had survived this nightmarish process, the more mutations. More and more split skin and exposed muscles. But the more mutated the subject, the less sapient and more animalistic they acted. It seemed that surviving the process regressed the mental capacity of the test subjects.
When I started encountering subjects that had entered the second phase of the process, I only grew more disturbed. With the addition of the second formula, those affected had their inflated muscle masses reduced, gradually, back down to almost normal proportions. That would have been a relief if it weren’t for the other effects of Formula Two. Almost all of the test subjects that were in the second phase had their skin over any dense muscle groups split. From those wounds, I saw that the muscle tissue was shifting to… something else. Muscles, tendons, sinew, and bone were being shifted to similar material, if not the same material. The material underneath was almost metal, almost fabric, almost flesh, but not fully any one of these. These strange materials developed in seemingly random colors.
This development was concerning enough. That concern escalated to a disturbed near-panic when I saw the test subjects that had survived into late Phase Two. Their skin began to fall from their body in rotting tatters. The gaps in the decaying membrane showed what looked like armor plates and other unidentifiable changes.
The mental changes continued deeper into this malevolent second phase. The subjects, only just starting the second stage of changes didn’t act animalistic. Instead, early in this stage, they were rabid, rampaging monsters who doubtlessly would kill anything they could find. This was an upsetting realization, but I continued my inspections.
The test subjects that were massively changed by Phase Two simply stood in the center of their cells, like automatons awaiting activation. Their eyes were soullessly blank or simply altogether missing, rotted from their skull. But this nightmarish development in their state caused no distress or discomfort. They merely stood there, barely breathing, if they were breathing at all.
I reached the end of the hall. I couldn’t even call the subjects in these cells Sophic Species anymore. They seemed more alien than person. As I scrutinized the notes on one of the last subjects, the one in the cell next door collapsed to the floor, convulsing. I hurried over, franticly trying to think of some way to help, even despite knowing their state. The vital sign readings on the wall were flashing red and displaying what I could only call abnormal numbers. The thing I could no longer call a person fell limp before I could even look for a way to open the cell.
I stared at the corpse with a whirlpool of mixed feelings. Should I have tried harder to save them? Was death a sweet end to whatever nightmare they were living in? Should I kill the others? It would stop their suffering and cripple any studies the corporation was making. But could they be changed back? Was there some way to revert the alterations? Even if I could reverse the physical changes somehow, what about the mental de-evolution? Would they simply stay as raging monsters or motionless flesh machines? What should I do?
I was startled out of my mental spiral when a buzzer sounded in the hall. I recoiled from the cell I had been looking into, panicking as I thought I had triggered an alarm somehow. However, the buzzer stopped, and the cell with the dead test subject lowered through the floor, and the row moved to fill the gap. It was an automated corpse disposal system. Most likely, the cell would be moved to another lab for the corpse to be dissected before disposal.
With my inspection of the space complete, I power-walked to the exit. The only thing stopping me from sprinting was the strictly conditioned part of my mind that told me not to burst through doors screaming in a mega-sky scraper full of enemies. As I reached the door, I off-handedly noticed that the first cell on the side that disposed of the corpse was empty, with a label that simply read ‘Vacant’.
I found Zynna and Ferris in the other room, attached to the main laboratory space. The room was slightly smaller than the main lab, and computer terminals occupied every inch of space against the walls. The other two stood over a single holo-display screen. Zynna, still appearing as an elderly Human man, piloted the device via mouse and holo-keyboard while Ferris read over her shoulder.
“You find the data we need to wipe?” I asked as I approached, trying and mostly succeeding to sound stable and unphased by the previous discovery.
“Yeah.” Zynna said. “We have all of the notes on every test subject they’ve run through this torture chamber. All of them have died and are labeled ‘Incomplete Subject’, whatever that means.”
I stepped on the other side of the Copkin and inspected the screen she was reading. “What have you found about this stuff? I want to know what they are doing to these poor bastards.”
“Let me pull up the Master Notes document.” Zynna made a few clicks, and a new document appeared on the display. I read it carefully.
-Muscle and soft tissue expansion mutation: standard result with no exceptions. Mutations are multiplicative
-Subjects’ sense of pain is greatly reduced, and aggression is heightened with each application.
-Subject’s metabolism is massively accelerated. (Subjects require feeding every four hours to maintain optimal state. Will die of starvation after a two-day period with less than 12 meals)
-Subjects express preternatural strength and speed after three doses. Results are further amplified with additional dose applications.
Note: All attempts and more frequent doses have resulted in failure. Set dose count limit to 12 doses over 24 days.
-Soft tissues converted to HiTenE ComMat (High-Tensile Elastic Compound Material) Type 1 -> Type 7
-Cortical Bone converted to Cortical Steel
-Bone Marrow converted to SoR Cell(Semi-organic Repair Cell) replicators
-Skin converted to HiTenE ComMat Type 8, Type 9, and Type 10
-Organ Adaptation Process begins
Note: Stage 2 leaves subjects in an unstable, partly-shifted state. Maximum material conversion of a subjects body has been 46%. Starting at 23%-26% conversion, subjects’ begin to become more docile. At approximately 25%-29% conversion, subjects stop normal motor functions. Upon reaching 37%-40% conversion, subjects’ body begins failing standard functions. Digestive system begins shutting down, resulting in likely expiration by malnutrition. Brain function almost completely stops, rendering subjects into a near-coma-like-state. If subject has not expired from other causes, they will expire upon reaching 47% conversion, from severe BMCS (Body Material Conversion Shock). We need the Stage 3 formula and methods to finish the conversion.
Note 2: Subjects begin developing unique Epidermis pigments with slight mutative growths in localized regions across the body. Have yet to determine pattern to mutative growth development or placement.
I read each line with careful scrutiny for anything critical. Unfortunately, almost everything that looked to be a key component in the process was a foreign language to me. The lines of substance code labels were total gibberish to me. They likely needed to be cross-referenced with a database for the normal names. Even overlooking the substance codes like STE:22AV and MC-CC:HTECM-whatever, there were still several terms I didn’t recognize. Cy-Cells, SoR Cells, HiTenE ComMat?
While the note-writer did leave the full name of most of these terms, they sounded closer to cybernetic terminology than anything relating to drugs or mutations. What I did understand was that the process was changing the victims into something not totally organic.
I straightened up from reading the display and took a slow breath before saying, “I don’t like this. Not a single bit.”
“We should kill them.” Ferris said in a hard voice.
I gave him a tired but questioning look with a single arched brow. “Them who? Them: The Scientists and Mystgenists? Them: The Test victims? Them: The Corp-rat Officers at the party above?”
“All of the above?” He half asked/half answered in a tone dripping with anger, emotional exhaustion, and toxic sarcasm. Paired with this half answer, Ferris gave a broad sweep of one hand as if gesturing to all the absent targets he was mockingly asking to murder.
I was just about to tell Ferris that his request wouldn’t exactly be easy and would throw our current plan right off the roof of the mega-sky scraper. I was interrupted by Nennel calling me.
“Hey, Vetos, the guests are arriving, and I think we’re going to need to change the plan given how they’re outfitted.” I could hear the nervous edge in Nel’s words. Her tense tone was almost enough to throw me over the edge into a fit of lashing anger.
Instead, I hissed a few curses, stomped my feet as I paced back and forth a few times while I thought, then moved on. “I’ll be right up.” I told Nennel. With a flick of my hand, I killed the call.
“Trouble?” Ferris asked.
“Reworking the plan on the fly because at least one preverbal fire popped up, but I expect more.” I turned to Zynna. “The Capture Cells have an installed teleportation, right? That should be how they get subjects in and out of the cells.”
“Let me check.” Zynna said as she traversed the internal data space of the computer. She leaned back with a low whistle of surprise before she said, “Yeah, the cells have teleportation triangulation systems installed. How did you know?”
“Because, Capture Cells are designed to never shut down unless damaged. In order to move someone into or out of one of the cells requires teleportation.” I turned to Ferris, “Fer, can you find the tags for the cells?” Then I turned back to Zynna. “You looked at the building systems diagrams. Is this lab hooked up to a closed power system? An insulated one?”
“Yes? What are you thinking?” Zynna asked.
“Trouble.” I said with a smirk. I’ll give you details closer to the fireworks. Right now, what you need to know is that you need to stay here, at or near this computer terminal, and look like you belong.”
“And me?” Ferris asked as he walked back to me with a small teleportation tag in one hand and on display.
“You’re going to help me.” I said while I pulled up my map of the building and started plotting.
“We’re gonna put out those fires you mentioned?”
“Not exactly.” I gave Ferris a malicious grin “Where are the rest of the tags?”
Ferris simply pointed while giving me a quizzical look. I moved to collect a fistful of specific tags as I gave my cryptic answer. “We’re going to start a few fires of our own.”
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