NationStates Jolt Archive

I am going to be doing a serious effort to create a small novel on this little concept that's been going through my head for a while. I hope you enjoy it. Any comments are appreciated, but please, keep it quick and to the point.

This will NOT be an RP.

Prologue:

Have you ever wonder what might happen when mankind would blur the edges between mortal and immortal? When humanity would suddenly annex the role of ‘God’? And what if an innocent were caught in the crossfire, caught in they gray realms of mortality? What if, by chance, men found a way to ‘become like God’? What would happen then? What were the ramifications of such a feat?

And what if they succeeded?

“I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end.” is what many have claimed to be the word of God. It is written in the Bible, when God speaks to several of his followers on different occasions. In studying this verse, one is led to believe that God has created everything and there is no room for any other “creator”.

The seventy-two year old scientist looked at his audience through bushy eyebrows that mimicked the white hair on his head, thick and slightly unruly. His wizened arm reached up and scratched the back of his neck before he continued his lecture.

“We are here today to refute that belief, to introduce the world to a new, radical advancement in the field of genetic research and development.”

A collective muttering was heard before it was silenced quickly as the audience suddenly began to scribble notes down on notepads or quietly clacking them away in their laptops.

“It began five years ago, when scientists finally broke the human genome code…”
_________________________

“Doctor Richards, what in the world were you thinking to have conducted such an egregious research. Do you even realize the moral and ethical flaming that would result from this? Do you?!”

Dr. Richards raised a hand, which like many of his other joints of his body were becoming fully stricken with arthritis. It hurt so goddamn much sometimes, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

“Please, allow me to explain…” he started, before he was silenced by the resounding thunder of a hand slamming hard into the dean’s desk.

“There is nothing to explain! You’ve been conducting research in our laboratories, using our equipment, and God knows what else!”

The dean took a breath of rushed air before continuing. His voice rose in crescendo, as if it were punctuating a powerfully directed orchestra, “And for that, YOU’RE FIRED!”

The explosion was seen on Doctor Richards face, but it wasn’t an explosion of anger, but rather dismay, sadness. The fools were going to stop perhaps mankind’s greatest achievement, all because it hadn’t been done before…

“So be it.” snarled Doctor Richards as he promptly stood and exited the dean’s office at the university. Within twenty-four hours, they would expect him to have his office packed up and gone, but there were only two things he cared about now: the data on both of his office and laboratory computers; and the formula. It was the same formula that cost him his job...

Chapter 1: The Lines Blurred

He walked quickly to the laboratory, intent on getting his important research out of there before the dean signed off the order to completely destroy all research data and evidence of his formula. He passed by a small group of his biochemistry students, all whom didn’t like him very much because he had been a tough professor teaching a difficult course. One girl waved at him politely, but got a grunt in reply as he shuffled past distractedly.

“What a jerk.” The girl whispered to the others, watching Doctor Richards as he entered the double steel doors of the science and research building, obviously heading to his laboratory. “Come on girls, let’s head over to the café.”

The group replied in agreement, and made their way northward on campus.

In side the laboratory, Richards was furious; “I don’t give a crap what the dean says about this research! It’s the most important thing to happen since…since the discovery of a cure for polio!”

Doctor Richards ambled about his small laboratory, filled with all kinds of high-tech machinery one could imagine. For three years, he had worked in this laboratory, pouring hours upon hours into his work, occasionally taking breaks to teach his classes. He could remember the day when fellow geniuses in his field of work had finally decrypted the human genome sequence. What a day it had been! Those men had been awarded all kinds of grants, and other recognitions beyond their wildest dreams. And yet, he Christopher Richards, seventy-two years old had been forced to live in their shadows, alone and working on what some considered the ‘darker side of science’.

‘Human Replication’, he called it, but that name in itself wasn’t exactly correct. It wasn’t cloning. No, that was for the lesser brilliant members of the science world. Rather, it was something so revolutionary, so dangerous even. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe it, but it could best be synonymous with transformation. The ability to change oneself to a different form, an entirely different body if they wished, was an ability that held much promise. On the bright side, people handicapped might have been able to use it to walk again, blind men could see, the deaf could hear.

But once again, no, it was not what he sought. He sought to change the entire human body, down to the very genes. And that was where he ran into trouble. He wanted to figure out a way to change one’s very own genetic makeup to change their appearance, even their sexuality. How? Simple. Introduce a foreign DNA. Make the host body become like that of a virus, and create a new DNA strain that dominated the older strains. Essentially speaking, he wanted to create a whole new individual.

Some of his critics had called it “playing God.” He couldn’t see what they meant by that, but it wouldn’t deter nor slow down his ambition. He would prove it to them, to all of them. He would prove that mankind was capable of so much more than they realized. And he would be the first to take that step.

The computer beeped behind the doctor, indicating that the massive file transfer to his portable hard-drive was complete. He turned to it, made sure that it had done exactly as he had wished, and then removed the portable hard-drive and deleted his evidence on the computer. He didn’t want his research to get into the wrong hands after all. Minutes later, the computer shut down, its entire hard-drive wiped clean. He smiled.

Aged hands pocketed the P-HD and reached over to close the metal briefcase that sat upon the lab table nearby. The lock clicked and secured into place, the combinations spinning under a quick thumb. He picked up the briefcase, once again made sure he had the P-HD, and left the laboratory, turning off the light and locking the door as he went.

Ten minutes later, he pulled out of the main entrance of the university campus and made his way to the interstate. Traffic was moderate, and was crazy enough that he was forced to watch out for the crazy young adults driving as if they owned the road. At this moment, he gave them the ownership, preferring to protect his precious cargo sitting on the seat next to him. He glanced at it momentarily, reassuring himself for the hundredth time since leaving the main university entrance. Another hour and he’d be back in his home, squirreling away in his basement his secret, his entire work. Three hours from now, he would have ordered a new door to the basement, this time a steel one with a numbered keypad and optical scanner. He didn’t care if he went a bit overboard with the security, but hey, with the world as it was these days, it wouldn’t hurt.

He never noticed the silver Civic that followed him at two car lengths, got off at the same exit as his, and passed his house as he pulled into the driveway.

Inside the Civic, now a block away, a cell phone was pulled out, speed-dialing enabled, and moments later, a gruff voice answering the other end,

“Talk.”

“The pie’s in the oven.” Spoke the passenger of the Civic.

“Good. Finish cooking it, then let it cool. I’ll be home for dinner in an hour.”

The transmission ended with a click, followed by the cellular lid closing. The passenger turned to the driver, “Let’s go. Plan A.”

The Civic blew through the stop sign and turned onto the westbound toward downtown.

_________________________

A knock on the door of the CIA Director’s office was answered by a voice beyond the door.

“Come in.”

The middle-aged, piercing beady eyed man behind the desk looked up to see one of his agents walk in, nod respectfully and hand him a folder.

“Ah, I see you’re back. What have you got on Doctor Richards?”

Travis Woods opened the file and read the notes inside quickly. An eyebrow rose as he read the text and was followed by the director’s eyes boring into the agent’s own.

“You sure this is legit?”

“I’m sure sir, I was there. I heard every word. Here’s the audio recording.” the agent replied, handing over a recorder that held a tape inside. Woods took it, rewound it and played the tape:

“It began five years ago, when scientists finally broke the human genome code. Since then, science has taken tremendous leaps forward as we began to understand how the genes truly worked to create the human. I am here today to present to you, my findings on such. If you look behind me on the projector, I will be scrolling through several visual clips of my research.”

“Start the slide please.”

(A faint whirring noise is heard in the background)

“This first slide indicates two cells. Cell A on the left originates from a male orangutan, and Cell B originates from a female of the same species. Cell A is a regular muscle cell, and Cell B is an epidermis cell. Next slide please.”

“Now, I present to you a video of the DNA from Cell A taking command of Cell B’s own DNA layout. Keep in mind that Cell A has been injected now with my formula that has essentially activated particular genes. As you can see, it already is working as if it were a virus, an invading cell. Yet, you can see that Cell B does not resist, for it recognizes the sister Cell A, thusly it will not activate the call for white blood cells, and close itself off for protection. Next slide please.”

“As you can see, the genetic sequence of Cell B is being rearranged, following a new set of re-sequencing commands from Cell A. The overall genetic makeup of Cell B is deleting the epidermis functions and adopting the muscular functions that can be found in Cell A.”

The recording was stopped. Woods looked up to the agent, “What in God’s name is this man thinking?”

“Keep listening sir, it gets better.” the agent urged.

A click resumed the recording.

“As you can see, this is the basic idea that I have held to my research, but on a much grander, much more sophisticated level. I have developed a formula that may make it quite possible for a man to become a woman, down to the very sexual organs of the body. Blonde to brunette, old to young, deformed to fully formed, and so much more.”

“Doctor Richards, you’re a very sick individual, playing “God Almighty!” You ought to be fired, your research destroyed, and locked away in prison!”

(A number of shouts of agreement are heard as chairs are shoved aside. The recording ends.)

Woods now had his jaw wide open in surprise. For a few moments, he was in shock at the revelation by Doctor Richards. Then, his mind got to work.

“Oh my God. This was a public meeting, am I correct?”

“Yes sir.”

The Director growled. "That means that Doctor Richards has unwittingly become a threat that can be used against the United States of America. I want a team assembled to pluck the man out of wherever he is and bring him under our protection. Now! Before anyone else of importance gets wind of this!”

“Yes sir. Right away sir.”

The door closed. Woods removed his glasses and set them down on the table. “What in Pandora’s Box have you unleashed, Doctor Richards?” he asked to the empty room. If he didn’t get a hold of this man quickly, the President would be breathing down his neck, and a cold breath it was…

“Argh!” he cursed once again, slamming his fist into his desk. Sometimes, he hated the stupidity of humanity, even the stupidity of the so-called ‘geniuses’. He only hoped his men were fast enough to react.

They had better be fast enough, or the crap would essentially hit the fan…

Not a bad start...I like this.

Thanks, I'll have chapter two up soon, tonight.

bump, for additional comments...

bump...

Bump for some more comments please?

#TAG# :p

Makes for a good read so far... :P

I'm like, Tag dude!

I apologize for the wait, everyone. I will try to get the next part up within the next day or so. Thanks for being so patient!

I apologize for the wait, everyone. I will try to get the next part up within the next day or so. Thanks for being so patient!

:: Waits Patiently ::

Very Nice! I look forward to the rest of it.

Chapter Two: Fear


7:50pm [19:50 hours]

The dim bulb down in the basement of Doctor Richard’s house flickered, threatening to burn out. Richards looked up at it muttering, “I’ve got to get new lights…” As if the bulb were listening, it promptly flashed, then cast the entire basement into total darkness.

“Gah!” cried Richards. He moved carefully though the basement, headed to the door. He had his hands out in front of him, and still missed the stairs to the right. His foot kicked into a tool chest, instantly sending a bucket of nails on top down onto his feet. He cursed once more, feeling several of the nails pricking the skin of his leg as they fell. However, the accident had oriented him, and so he turned to the stairs and finally emerged out the door of the basement. He went to the hall closet, retrieved a light bulb and Maglite. Moments later, he was back in the basement and replacing the bulb. Finally, the light flickered and turned bright. Richards blinked in response, then turned his attention back to the things on the table against the back wall. There, his research lay, formulas in their protective non-breakable test tubes, twenty-six in all. They all were numbered, each higher one being an improvement upon the lower one, until he had found perfection in test tube twenty-six. He pulled the papers out of his briefcase, and read them. On it, it described the formula’s ingredients, the arrangements prepared, and the results discovered.

Right as he placed the papers down on the table, the light died once again. “Holy oranges! Why does this all have to be a test of my patience!” he bellowed to the darkness. Flicking on the flashlight once again, he ascended the stairs, only to find the rest of the house lying in darkness too. He flicked the light switch a few times, but nothing happened. Growling slightly, he returned to the basement door and opened the fuse box just inside the door. Flipping it open, he reset the breakers, then returned to the kitchen once more to check the light. That’s when he finally noticed something was wrong.

The neighbors had their lights still on.

A strong hand wrapped around Doctor Richard’s chest and held him tightly as a second hand held the chloroform cloth to his face. He struggled, but his aging body was far past its prime. Moments later, he slumped in the arms, unconscious.

“Get him to the car. I’ll get his stuff.” Commanded a voice coming from the living room. The captors obeyed, immediately dragging the thin old man toward the door, and into the car’s backseat. They sat him up, leaning his head back to make it look like he was sleeping. The two men got into the car, one behind the wheel. The soft rumble of the Civic indicated the engine had turned over.

Inside the house, Terrance picked up the dropped flashlight and entered the basement. Immediately, he caught sight of the equipment on the table and quickly began to pack it all up. The test tubes were returned to the steel square box and fastened into place. The paperwork was shoved into the briefcase and closed. Minutes later, he emerged out the front door, locking the door behind him with the doctor’s keys. He walked quickly to the car, glancing in both directions for any hint of trouble, and got into the front passenger seat.

“Let’s get out of here.”

The Civic pulled out of the driveway and took off down the street. Only then did the car’s lights flip on, illuminating the unspecified path ahead of the Civic.
_________________________

“Listen up men. The brass has labeled this an Opticon Five mission, extraction of a civilian for national security purposes.”

Colonel Nathan Fergeson looked each of his four men in the eyes. None shifted their gaze for they were veterans, experts at what they did. Their team, although officially non-existent, was among the best the CIA had to offer. Each had been hand selected by Fergeson, each had seen combat in recent international missions.

Jung Lao was a twenty-six year old average built man with jet-black hair cut short, and wore black fatigues. He specialized in scouting and intelligence gathering while in the field. It was his job to keep the team alive and warn them of threats. He was proficient with a wide range of weapons, even down to the katana and other blade weaponry.

Andrew Goodson was a twenty-nine year old man, nearly six feet in height and although he was a bit lanky, he was more consisting of lean muscle and surprising strength. He was an expert demolitions man; a ‘ticker’, a codename for one of such expertise.

Mike Young was twenty-five years old, the youngest of the group and the one that the brass seemed to enjoy watching closely. He was a promise to their eyes, even up to possibly becoming the Chief CIA Director in time. He had a mind that was like diamond, strong and sharp, and able to cut through the vast quantities of the information that filled the Agency’s rooms like a plague. He had an uncanny ability to pore through it quickly and spot the important stuff, even if it were coded. His skill had, on two occasions, deflected impending terrorist activities toward the United States. Essentially, he was perfect for the job.

And then there was Michelle Palantin, the only female in this small organization, and held her own name up by her successes. She was thirty years old, the oldest, but by far the most agile, the quickest, and a very effective agent. She was a strong woman, both in body and in mind, and quite deadly in martial arts. She taught the CIA’s martial arts classes once or twice a week when missions weren’t impeding.

This mission however, had two objectives. One, the team would have a mission that was relatively safer than what they had been seeing lately. It would allow them to ‘get a breather’, as the brass liked to call it. Two, the brass wanted to ensure that their mission was carried out with minimal or no evidence of its existence. They were to snatch one man, and one man only.

“Target is Doctor Christopher Richards; a biochemistry professor at Berkeley. Seventy-two years old, widowed and suffering from the typical effects of old age. This is a walk in the park boys, but brass wants this guy like flies attracting to turd. We commence at 20:30 hours tonight.”

A collection of voices confirmed compliance as the five-member team stood and left the brief/debrief room.

8:30pm[20:30 hours]

Five shadows passed silently through the deeper shadows of the night, slinking ever closer to their objective location. The lead figured motioned for one of the others to pick the lock on the back door. Within minutes they were inside, sweeping the rooms with their pistols carefully. Two moved upstairs, taking the steps carefully, one by one.

A door opened quietly under the command of one of the agents, only to find the doctor’s bedroom. Young scanned the room, and headed toward the bathroom, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything out of the ordinary. The door slid open for the bathroom, but he found it to be empty.

Where in this miserable place are you, Richards? he thought to himself. He tapped his comms set and spoke quietly, “Nothing here. Something’s not right, boss. Place is too quiet.”

The radio crackled quietly in his ear, Fergeson’s voice replying, “Keep searching. He must be found.”

“Yes sir,” replied Young.

Downstairs, two of the agents swept the rest of the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Fergeson, who was standing in the kitchen growled silently to himself. He spied the basement door and narrowed his eyes, bringing his pistol up at the ready. He slowly crept toward the door and put his ear to it, listening, remaining completely still.

Nothing. Absolute silence.

He checked the door, noting that the doctor seemed to really like steel doors. It opened under his beckon and he swung it open. He peered down into the darkness, hating the fact that someone could be sitting down there, lying in wait.

A hand to the comms, “Lao. Goodson. Basement, now.”

A few seconds later, both appeared and nodded, as they understood what he wanted. Goodson was the first to enter the steel doorway and descend into the depths of the darkness. He flipped his nightvision goggles down, casting the room in an eerie green hue. Lao was right behind him, followed by Fergeson.

“Place is empty, sir.” Goodson reported.

Lao interrupted, “Sir…you better look at this.”

Fergeson made his way toward where Lao was standing and glanced around the basement, and then back to the table Lao had brought his attention to. He could clearly see that some of the things on the desk had been scattered haphazardly, and he was willing to bet it hadn’t been the doctor’s doing.

“Oh hell, we’re too late. Let’s see what we can dredge up of the doctor’s work at the least.”

All members of the extraction team complied, gathering anything that looked important to the experiment that he had been doing. Ten minutes later, they were finished and departed the basement.

“Move out.” Fergeson commanded, leading the way up the steps and out of the house. Boss is going to be pissed…

___________________________________

The phone rang on the Wood’s secured line. He picked it up on the second ring, “Woods.”

“Sir, Colonel Fergeson, we’ve got a serious problem. The doc wasn’t in.”

“I don't like the sound of that. Any idea where he might have gone?”

“Not sure sir, but evidence at the scene suggests someone unwelcome had been there. There were a few tread marks on the street, just in front of the house. Seems to fit a small compact car, lightweight model. Normal treads. The door had no markings of forced entry. Place looks almost perfectly fine, except for the basement. It’s a bit of a mess down there.”

Woods thought for a moment, “That’s where his lab was, wasn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

Woods replied, “Get back here. In the meantime, I’ve got to tell the President.”

“Yes sir.”

The phone clicked with a sense of deliberate haste, before it was picked up once more and speed dial enabled. A click, followed by another voice speaking “Yeah, what is it?”

“Sir, Woods here. We’ve got a situation…”

So worth the wait.

Hey, hey, great stuff, Tar!

*Tag on, MacDuff*

Impressive...

Chapter 3: Icebreakers


Distorted sounds filtered through the scratchy hood that covered Doctor Richard’s head as he carried by the arms, his feet dragging behind. His head flopped about, the muscles refusing to work properly as he struggled to regain control of his sense.

“Put him in the chair, tie him up.” commanded a voice to his left. Immediately he was turned to the right and turned about. They sat him on a small steel chair with an uncomfortable seat and bound his hands and legs to the chair. Richards lolled his head upwards and locked it in an upward gaze. Seconds later the hood was removed and Richards instantly closed his eyes from the harsh fluorescent light that shone down into his face. He groaned as the light sent splitting spears of light into his retinas, searing his sight for a few moments.

A hand appeared out of nowhere and lifted his chin. A voice spoke, thick in an accent found in Russians, “Welcome to Hell, Doc. My name is Sezja. Now you’re going to answer a few questions, got it?”

Richards turned his head to the side to take in the image of the man talking to him. The man’s face was still blurry a little, but was soon to be clarified. He mumbled an agreeing response.

“Good. I’d hate to have to hurt your pretty weathered face old man. First off, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do, am I clear?”

Richards nodded slightly. His thoughts were beginning to take focus once more, linear lines of thoughts coming together to piece his dilemma as a whole. The puzzle was putting itself together to give him the bigger image of events. Oh hell… he thought to himself as he finally realized what was going on.

“Tell me, besides the equipment we grabbed from your basement, is there anything else we’re going to need in order for you to complete the experiments as necessary?”

The doctor looked at the man and replied, “Depends on what you want done.”

“Don’t try me. My patience runs thin, old man.”

“Then yes, you have most of everything. A containment vessel of some sort will be needed for the subject. Something that’s kind of like a casket, you know?”

“That can easily be taken care of. Anything else?”

“No. But, if I’m to do what you wish, I’m going to need to do a series of tests on the subject, to make sure they are compatible with the formula.”

“What kind of tests?”

“The usual pre-stats, heart status, emotional stability, diseases; the works.”

“How long will that take?”

“About a day or two.”

“Fine enough. Now, let’s get to work.”

Richards was untied and he stood up, keeping his hands to his sides. He glanced around at the men escorting him, two men holding AK-47s. Richards turned his attention to the one who had been speaking to him, “What’s with the guns? Are you really afraid of an old man?”

Sezja turned and looked at him for a few moments before replying, “No. You are easy to take care of. But let me make one thing clear. If you do not cooperate, or attempt to escape, these men can, and will shoot you down. Clear?”

“Clear.” muttered Richards as he was pushed toward another door, one that had a lock worthy of a bank vault. Sezja scanned his retinas and then spoke a few words to the machine. Seconds later, the clicking and sliding of the pistons could be heard as they unlocked the door. It swung open outwardly, admitting entrance.

Inside, Richards could see a rather spacious laboratory with a number of equipment already in place. He noted that some of the equipment was his own, for he always marked them conspicuously. Nevertheless, all that would be needed was here, except for a few things, which he knew Sezja would take care of soon enough.

“Turn around.”

Richards turned and faced the two AK-47 wielding men and watched as they snapped a sensor bracelet on his wrist. He lifted it to observe it and saw to his dismay that nothing short of the proper equipment would remove it. He looked up at the men who simply stood there grinning darkly at him. He turned to the laboratory and asked as he walked about the room, “Will there be assistants? I’m going to need at least one or two to help me.”

A slight static could be heard over a radio and a few minutes later, two people dressed in white overcoats appeared in the room through a side door. Like him, they also had bracelets on their wrists. What the hell is going on here? thought Richards to himself as he nodded to the others. He then spoke, “Well…time to fulfill the sadistic fantasies of these big bad wolves.”

The other two merely smiled half-heartedly and immediately donned some gloves. Richards did so as well. He picked up a clipboard that had blank paper attached. He turned to Sezja.

“Who’s being subjected to this experiment?”

The man glanced between the three scientists and replied, “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

As if on cue, the same door that the scientists has arrived through, opened up once more and ten individuals; five men and five women; stepped into the room and took their places side by side in front of the doctor.

He surveyed them carefully and then spoke, “Right…”

He instructed the other scientists to segregate the subjects and put them into their chairs, chairs that reminded Roberts of the kind used in dentistry. “You know what to do. You’re doctors after all.”

The assistants nodded and began to run the preliminary statistics tests, blood pressure, heart condition, family history, weight, bone density, blood type, immune system, anything, and everything they knew how to do.

The hours wore on as the doctors worked steadily, instructing the subjects to take their turns on the running treadmill, checking their cognitive senses, and more. The whole time, a camera ran in the corner of the laboratory, recording every movement, every word spoken. Whispers were even caught clearly on tape.

It only went to support the obvious distinction that made these criminals highly funded, and thusly highly dangerous.

Finally, after three hours of intense tests that the subjects were put through, they were finished. The door opened a few minutes later, and Sezja appeared. “You are finished?” he asked, his voice heavily laden in the Russian accent.

Richards took a seat on one of the laboratory stools and nodded, “Yes. I have made my selections.” He turned and picked up his clipboard which now had numerous scribbling on the papers attached. He read the names that were circled on the top sheet, “Ricardo, Shannon, Raisa, Stephen, and Truman.”

Three men and two women stepped forward, while the remaining five subjects were directed to leave the laboratory the way they had come.

Sezja smiled, “Good. The container you requested will be here tomorrow. You will be taken to your cell now.”

The doctors and the subjects were escorted out of the room. The doctors were put individually into their own cells, with nothing more than a hardened mattress and a dilapidated sink and toilet. The subjects were part of the terrorist group, so they were given freedom to move about as they wished.

In his cell, Richards lay down exhaustedly upon the cot and stared up at the bare ceiling with the single lightbulb that shone dimly. Oh God…what have I done?

OOC: Am gonna try for chapter 4 tonight. I'm in the mood, and my muse is being nice today.

Keep it up. This is good stuff. Very descriptive.

Chapter four will be spawned from the recesses of my mind tonight.

Chapter Four: Crossing the Forbidden Line

Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…

“Begin the injection.” commanded Doctor Richards as he locked his eyes forward at Sezja. He licked his lips nervously and turned his attention back to the subject strapped to the gurney and unconscious. Another doctor brought a needle into view, with the formula in sight as he injected it into the arm of the woman known as Shannon. He finished and stepped back, checking the arm and leg thick leather straps as he did so. Then he closed the glass lid, locking it into place.

Shannon was an auburn haired woman with dazzling emerald eyes and an appropriately proportioned body to boot. She laid there peacefully, under the effects a sedative. Suddenly, she lurched upward, only restrained by the straps. Her naked body quivered under the changes that began to slam her every sense with wicked pain and intentions, her blood boiling over. She burst her eyes open in sudden shock, the eyes having changed completely from normal to an eerie milky white shade. She twisted and shook violently and a scream emitted sharply from her mouth.

“No!” cried Richards as he held his hands up to the other doctors who were clearly becoming agitated by the strange events. “Wait! Just wait!”

They watched with partial morbid looks on their faces as the woman’s hair shifted colors, from auburn to bright orange to yellow, to green to blue and resting in the blue hue that matched her wide eyes that stared blankly into the distance. Her skin rippled and morphed as well as she underwent the power of the formula’s effect on her body. It shifted through the colors before settling into an onyx color. Her fingernails changed from their peachy color to an onyx color. Her teeth seemed to ripple with stunning changes from her normal teeth to all canines and finally back to her normal teeth, but with a pearly white to them. The very features of her entire body shifted through various changes, sometimes looking like a man, sometimes like a woman, and finally settling into her normal features, except she was completely onyx in color with sapphire hair.

She collapsed at long last, the scream echoing away, but still quite in the memories of all of them. Sezja had approached the observation window, watching in fascination as Shannon transformed before his very eyes. “Oh my God…” he whispered with a hint of excitement. He turned and departed, only to emerge in the laboratory once more.

He walked up to the woman and leaned over her, calling out in a loud voice, “Shannon! Can you hear me?” He glanced up to the monitor to see her heartbeat returning back to normal. Still, she did not answer. “Shannon!”

Her eyes snapped open once more, now changed from normal irises to the white irises. She turned her head over to Sezja and spoke, “Wha-what happened?”

Sezja smiled and placed a hand on the glass, “You’ve just got a boost in your abilities, my dear.” He looked lovingly back at Shannon, before finally turning to Doctor Richards, “Excellent. Your formula worked!”

The elderly man studied a clipboard in a puzzled manner. He looked up to Sezja with a look of concern on his face, “I don’t know about that…”

Sezja glared at him, “What are you talking about?”

Richards looked over at Shannon and approached. He hesitated momentarily as he unlocked the glass cover to the gurney. He undid the straps and stood back as she sat up and looked at him. “Stand.” he commanded to her. She did so, without complications. Richards licked his lips as he looked into her white eyes. It seemed she was blind, and yet, she looked back at him. He spoke another command, “I want you…to take the image of myself.”

She blinked once, and in that blink the change became quickly done, until an exact duplicate stood before Doctor Richards. The real doctor gasped with excitement, his fear of his survival momentarily lost. He began to laugh with joy. Tears came to his eyes as he let the reality of all his hard work having come to fruition.

Shannon shifted back to her natural form that she had before the transformation. She smiled at Sezja, “It worked!”

Sezja could only grin broadly. Their plan was beginning to take form in full reality. He turned to the doctor, “Now the others!”

Doctor Richards lost his happiness as if he had been dealt a blow to the kidney. He turned to Sezja, about to protest. Sezja’s stern look silenced him before he could speak, and so he nodded, “Bring in Stephen.”

The other doctors nodded in understanding and departed, bringing Stephen from his own holding chamber. He looked incredulously at Shannon who had shifted back to her onyx appearance, then back at the doctor, “Am I gonna look like that?”

He looked back at Shannon, exclaiming, “She looks like a goddamn demon!”

Shannon smiled and took the typical appearance of a she-devil, complete with horns and a tail. She stepped forward and grinned with black teeth, “Now I look like one…”

Stephen gaped at her in surprise, his voice lost. Doctor Richards urged him to the gurney and strapped him into place. Like the first test, a needle was inserted and the lid closed and locked.

They watched as Stephen went through his own changes, his entire body shifting and bulging suddenly as muscles multiplied in mass. His skin took on a sapphire color and remained there as his entire body shifted and increased dramatically in mass. He too screamed with agony, his voice changing until he sounded like a lion roaring in a glass cage. His eyes became like that of a feline’s, but more like the eyes of a lion. And finally, he too slumped down. The lid was lifted, and the hulking figure was released. He stood and glared down at Doctor Richards from his six foot nine inch height of sinewy muscle and strength. Richards couldn’t help but gaze upon him.

“Stephen, I want you to take the form of myself.”

Stephen nodded with his head, which was mounted upon a thick neck. He concentrated his eyes upon Doctor Richards. Nothing changed. He didn’t shift like Shannon had; he remained the muscular man that he was. He looked at Richards, and then down at his body. “I don’t understand.”

Doctor Richards shook his head, “Nor do I. The formula reacted to your body differently. You do not look like Shannon does now, not by any means. In fact, you almost look…feral.” He reached up to softly touch the face, which had changed to a more animalistic image. “Let me see your teeth.” Stephen complied, baring double rows of sharp canines. Richards studied them for a moment, “I have an theory. Stephen, I want you to take the form of a lion.”

Stephen looked at him quizzically, “Doc? What?”

Richards looked up at him, “Become a lion.”

Stephen blinked a few times, and then nodded in understanding. Suddenly before Richards, the massive Stephen bent downward as his entire body rippled with the changes. His hands became the great-clawed paws of the infamous predator; a mane of thick hair sprouted and became part of him. His face changed to that of a lion’s. A tail sprouted and weaved itself to its length before ending in a hairy ball at the end. When he was finished, it was as if he were truly a lion, and not Stephen.

Sezja gaped at the predator that stood before them with wide eyes. “My God…” he whispered, taking an involuntary step backwards. He watched as the lion returned to the old form of Stephen, the muscled version.

Doctor Richards took a seat; taking off the spectacles he was wearing to rub his eyes. When done, he spoke, “Is there anything else you think you can do?”

Stephen grinned slightly and soon began to shift from different animal forms, and finally returned to his normal form. “Guess so, Doc.”

Doctor Richards held his hand up, “All right, take a seat. I’m sure Mr. Sezja here would like to see the rest of the subjects given the formula.”

Sezja looked at Doctor Richards, “Tell me old man, why is there great differences between their abilities?

Richards shook his head, “There must be something about their DNA that changes the results of the formula. It’s the only possible explanation.” He picked up several other clipboards and flipped through the papers, reading the blood types aloud, “Shannon, A-positive, Stephen O-negative, Ricardo AB-positive, Raisa B-positive, and Truman O-positive.” He looked up at Sezja, “I think it has something to do with the blood types. In a way, it almost makes sense. Each blood type can be traced throughout history to a particular people. For example, O-blood types have been traced to African hunters, and typically are more likely to take up body contact sports such as football or wrestling. Essentially, they were the first true cavemen. B blood types are traced back to the nomadic people of Siberia, for they are survivors, and are stout in heart and mind. A-blood types are descendants of farmers, civilized people to an extent. AB blood types are just a mix of A and B, and dictate traits from both strains. The blood types even go as far as to dictate the particular foods that are good for them. It’s all really incredible, Sezja. I think we may have found some unknown link, some link to an ancient genetic pattern that unlocks them as they are now.” He pointed to Shannon and Stephen.

He spoke to the other doctors, “Bring in Ricardo now, I am most curious to see how he reacts to the formula.”

One of the doctors nodded and returned with Ricardo, a Spanish looking fellow with jet-black hair. He too gaped at Shannon and Stephen. They merely smiled and raised their eyebrows at him. Soon, Ricardo was strapped down and also injected.

The changes for him were odd, for he lay there completely normal. However, the entire room began to flicker and change the lighting, even so far as having bulbs blow out one by one. Emergency lights flickered on, and illuminated the room in a pale glow of soft white light. Finally, he too was finished adjusting and was released.

Richards looked at him, “Well son, let’s see what you’ve got.” Ricardo nodded and held his hand out, watching as a ball of electricity zapped to existence and spun about. It massed together, forming what appeared to be a small sun, complete with sun rings and dark spots. Richards was startled as he watched a pen in his hand suddenly leap out of his grip and fly toward the sun. Ricardo caught it with the other hand and looked up at Richards. Richards spoke, “Power to control electricity, fire… and ultimately create your own magnetic field…”

Sezja looked alarmingly at the two, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he exclaimed but nonetheless obviously pleased. “Go on Doctor, bring in your next subject!”

Raisa, a Russian woman with stunning looks, was brought in and subjected to the same procedures. As she lay still, she shifted appearance, becoming transparent at one point, then solidifying to a solid white form, only maintaining the form of a female. The room suddenly plunged in temperature as she screamed, her breath sending plumes of icy air upwards. The observers shook as they felt the cold biting into their flesh, their nerves screaming for protection. And then, the room warmed once more to room temperature. Raisa was released, only to hear Richards speak, “Somebody bring me a coffee please. Fresh cup please.”

A doctor nodded and soon returned with a hot cup of java in a styrofoam cup. Richards placed it upon the countertop and looked over at Raisa, “It’s obvious what you can do. So, if you would…” he gestured to the cup, stepping away.

She eyed the cup and willed it to freeze to a solid hunk of frozen coffee. The countertop around the cup began to freeze as well, ice sheets spreading quickly about the room. Finally she stopped and looked back at Richards, “Satisfied?”

Richards nodded, “Uh yes…”

Sezja was becoming flushed with a dangerous look in his eye, “Bring in Truman! I want him injected as well!”

Richards looked at the man, suddenly snapping out of his own almost drunken stupor and excitement. He shook his head negatively, “I…We cannot. I won’t let you do this!”

Sezja looked over at Richards, “Very well then, you are not needed anymore. Take him away!” he commanded to some of the guards. Richards struggled but was soon frozen into place by Raisa, ice wrapping about his torso and immobilizing him. She nodded to Sezja with a dark smile.

Truman was the last to be brought in and injected like the others. He too became unique in his own respect. Gills formed on the side of his neck, and his eyes took another film surrounding them. His skin became sleek, like that of a fish, and took on a silvery color. He was directed to test his abilities, and within moments, the fire prevention system became activated, sending jets of water upon them. As suddenly as they had started, they ceased.

Sezja smiled upon all of them. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you evolution, advanced.” He held his arms out to them, and began to laugh darkly. They too joined in his laughter. The doctors gulped and slunk away, suddenly fearful of the very things they had created.

In Richard’s cell, he was at the door, banging furiously, “No!! You cannot! No!!!”

Excellent read. So I'll state the obvious...More Please!

OOC: Sorry for the long wait. Life's a pain sometimes...

IC:
Chapter Five: Darwinism, Advanced


“This is not acceptable, Woods. I want him found!” demanded the president as he sat behind his desk in the oval office. Woods stood before him, his arms crossed behind his back.

“We’re doing all we can, sir, but this is a professional organization we’re facing. That much we are able to tell with conviction. Who they are, what they stand for…we don’t know.”

The President sighed as he rubbed his eyes with his arm propped upon the desk. “We are the most powerful nation in the world, with the most sophisticated technology, and you’re telling me that we’re still having trouble with our intelligence?!” His voice rose like a crescendo, punctuating in his irritation and rising anger. “Find him!”

___________________________

Orlando, Florida

The lines were long, full of impatient tourists. Ahead, a row of ticket booths was busy, issuing tickets to the incoming thousands of tourists. It was the height of the tourist season, and the weather matched the feverish temperaments of the excited people that milled about. This day, however, was not fated to be an innocent day of family fun and fiesta.

“Move in. Keep to your assignments.”

Scattered throughout the lines, five individuals waited patiently, dressed in the typical tourist clothing. Shannon had assumed a Californian look, complete with a tanned skin tone, and beige shorts that were a tad too short for conservative taste, and a white blouse that accentuated her feminine features well. She sported dark, sleek oval sunglasses and held her hair tied back in a ponytail. Next to her stood Ricardo, who sported beige cargo pants and a navy blue Quicksilver tee shirt. He also had a pair of dark blue Oakley’s on his face, giving a finishing touch to the ‘surfer’ look, as some called it.

Elsewhere, Raisa and Truman walked into the park, moving casually, and pointing to the various things that caught their eyes. They appeared to be the perfect tourist couple, animated and having a wonderful time from the start. Yet, they began to move toward their destinations slowly.

Stephen licked his lips, avoiding the stares from a group of teenage girls standing several rows over. They were staring in shock at his large size, and especially at his muscles. He had to admit, he did look out of place. Nevertheless, he had managed to acquire a security guard uniform that fit his form, although a bit tight. On his left breast pocket, a security card hung, his picture on it and the name “James Brown” under it. He moved through the lines, his eyes watching the people around him, as if he were seeking for potential trouble of any kind.

He turned and entered into the park through a security gate, securing the door behind him. Glancing about he moved into the park, strolling along the many shops that lined the pathway nearby. Once, a little boy, only a few years old bumped into him, stared up the long way to his face and blinked several times as Stephen smiled to the kid, slightly revealing the teeth. The child ran off to his mother nearby, tugging at her shirt and pointing back at him. Stephen merely raised an eyebrow to the mother and shrugged his shoulders.

Deep within the theme park, and hidden in a secret room within Splash Mountain, Sezja watched the progress of his agents through several security screens before him. He glanced to the side as one of the guards on the floor, bound hand and foot, with a thick piece of duct tape over his mouth. The guard also had one of his own socks being used as a muffle as well. It was clear the man’s sock wasn’t all that clean in its taste either.

“Shut up.” Sezja commanded with a cold tone. He picked up the pistol on the table next to him and pointed it at the guard, “Or I’ll blow your damn head off.”

The guard complied; content to hopefully live out this ordeal. He glanced over to the table where a covered box sat. Inside the box was a red button. It was the widespread silent alarm that was installed in every part of the park. It was also used to call for police assistance in times of trouble. He shifted his position closer, as quietly as he could. The report of a chamber being slid into the barrel caused him to abandon his plan instantly. Sezja pushed his chair back and stepped closer, propping the pistol under the guard’s chin.

“You’re pushing my buttons, my friend. I do not have the patience for your crap any more. One more. Just one more, my stupid American friend, and you shall be meeting my comrades in hell. Am I clear?”

The guard nodded, blinking as the pistol pushed into his Adam’s apple for several moments.

Sezja returned to his seat after giving the man a pat on the head. He checked on his agents. They were still moving into position, and no alert had disrupted their movements.

“Today, my friend, the world shall see God humbled before mankind!” Sezja declared with a broad smile.

On the far left screen, the image of Mickey Mouse was kneeling down to greet a crowd of smiling children. Nearby, other famous characters greeted the children as well.

The guard could only watch from his seated position on the floor, wondering what exactly Sezja was talking about.