Fleeing Victory #11

by Phoenix | Nov 24, 2021 | FV, Pinned, Short Stories

Blackout

Doctor Gil had imagined himself being escorted at gunpoint when he left his lab. One of the ghosts would take point while the other, probably the impatient one, kept a gun muzzle poking him just a little too hard in the back. That was how Gil pictured this extraction operation playing out before they were underway. The way they approached him in the first place was a clue the doctor had overlooked, and so now he was making his own way northwest inside the HQ building. Alone. The two blue ghosts were still around, somewhere, but they were staying out of sight. Gil figured that any time they had to cross through areas with no cover or too much light, they would simply dematerialize their bodies like before, moving from one hiding spot to another completely unnoticed.

Every person Doctor Gil met on his way to the exit tried to turn him back around toward the shelter. Every time the doctor had to try to make up some urgent matter he had to attend to first. The first time he wasn’t convincing enough for an allied soldier, and he was taken by the arm. The soldier had every intention of dragging Gil to safety whether he liked it or not. Instead, the dutiful soldier hit the ground like a log when a faint wisp of blue carved a fine line through the air and across the back of his neck. Witnessing someone die so suddenly, and without the slightest bit of warning, was terrifying. These men were even more dangerous than the doctor could have imagined. Gil made sure to have a convincing story ready after that. He didn’t want to see this again; he didn’t want anyone unfortunate enough to bump into him to die just because they insisted on helping.

The situation only got worse once Gil was outside of the HQ building. It seemed like everything on the far side was on fire, and the gunfire and shouting was becoming even more intense. The ground shook as the HQ building was shelled by the Cordaean armas. No wonder people were eager to get him underground.

“Where to now?” Gil asked the two ghosts escorting him. He almost didn’t notice the trail of blue mana being drawn in front of him on the ground. It raced out and toward the warehouses, marking his way. For a brief moment, Gil contemplated going some other way. Could they catch him? The two ghosts weren’t treating him poorly, per se, but there was still no guarantee he would survive at his destination. The fate of his research was even more uncertain, but Gil doubted the Calmans would want to help him complete it. If he went with them, the Crimson Tide Project might be doomed.

Despite his fears for the project, Gil couldn’t risk running now. He knew only as much about the capabilities of Calig’s Blue Ghosts as they were willing to let him see; no doubt they had even more cruel tricks and methods hidden away for people that wanted to be difficult. In the end, Doctor Gil still valued his own life over the fruits of his research. After all, what was once made could be made again. As long as he was alive, there was hope. He followed the trail toward the warehouses, hoping against hope that none of his allies were waiting there.

Just as he was getting close to the buildings, close to safety, Gil felt a strong warmth in his chest. He felt dizzy. A dark vignette closed in on him, narrowing his vision more and more until he could hardly see anything at all. Gil stopped trying to run and hunched over. For a split second, he thought he remembered feeling like this before. It was well over a month ago, but it hadn’t been nearly this intense. Fearing he was about to pass out, Gil crouched down. Then he heard a shell coming down nearby. All the doctor heard before his hearing left him was a loud pop.

Doctor Gil could feel himself lying on his back. He could hear men talking over him. His limbs ached, but his right arm in particular. If he didn’t know better, Gil could have sworn his arm was fractured. Maybe it was. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, where he was, or how he’d gotten there. Once he opened his eyes, the situation only got worse. The second ghost, the one that was always so impatient with him, the one that had effortlessly taken away his only means of defense, was standing directly over him with a gun drawn. Gil could see straight down the black barrel and up to the blue eyed ghost wielding it.

Was this it?

“Don’t move,” the ghost warned.

Gil could barely move his lips, but he had to ask, even at the risk of dying here and now, “What happened?”

“You tell me,” the ghost spat back.

“Help him up.” The doctor recognized the first ghost’s voice, but that wasn’t the one who came up from above–rather behind–him and hauled him up to his feet.

Gil’s arm was hurting even more, now. He started nursing it with his good arm and looked back to try and see who hauled him up. Whoever it was, there were at least three ghosts accounted for now. The doctor was startled by the site of the third ghost. He was dressed similarly to the first two, but his goggles gave off a haunting red glow. Did Calig also field ‘red ghosts’ or was this blue ghost special somehow? Regardless, the red one made the doctor far more wary than the others, even the one that still had him at gunpoint.

“You said he was the only test subject left,” The red ghost said to the first, the one Gil was almost certain was in charge, now.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the leader said.

“I could sense the mana building up from here. He’s a risk. Need more information before the extraction.”

Doctor Gil could tell a surprising amount about the red one just from the way he spoke. That one was emotionless, focused only on the mission. He wasn’t so much concerned with the process or the methods as with the results. Gil was beginning to suspect that he’d done something ridiculous while he was disoriented, but the red one didn’t really care, so long as they stayed on track. This group of ghosts was starting to make more sense to the doctor. The first ghost he’d encountered was the leader, calm, cool, and reasonably focused. The second ghost was more emotionally driven, but just as capable in a fight, and an invaluable asset to this team. The red ghost was probably the most capable, that or he had some special ability or a set of skills that gave him unique value. The doctor didn’t know if there were any more ghosts, but even if there weren’t, these three seemed capable of taking on just about anything Munica could throw at them. This must have been close to a regular, routine extraction for them.

“First thing’s first,” the leader said, bringing the doctor’s attention to him with a gesture, “Something was wrong with you, Doctor. Shark came to get you out of the open and you went for his gun. After he put you on the ground, you passed out. He carried you the rest of the way. Now it’s your turn to tell us some things.”

“I … did what?” Granted, if Gil thought he had a snowball’s chance on the sun of escaping this situation, he might at least try to think of a plan first, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ever try to disarm a special forces agent, and certainly not one of these three. What in the world had come over him? Why would he do something so embarrassingly, so unfathomably stupid? He had to be making this up.

“Has anything like this happened to you before? Are there any gaps in your memory, or times you felt off since you started testing the stimulant on yourself?”

Good questions, if a bit cutting, Gil admitted. Was he experiencing a side effect of his own combat stimulant? Was it causing him to act differently at times and retain no memory of the event? If that was the case, why hadn’t someone pointed that out to him before now? Why hadn’t his research been exposed yet? Why wasn’t he being closely monitored from inside a cell? No, Gil concluded, this might not be the first time he’d had an ‘episode,’ but it was almost certainly the first time he had ever done something like this. No one would trust him if he went for an allied soldier’s weapon, whatever the reason.

The doctor shook his head. “There were times where I’ve felt off … a few moments that are vague to me, but they would never let me roam or work at all if something like this happened.”

“Not necessarily,” Red cut in, “We’re not your allies. You have every reason to want to protect yourself.”

That had the ring of truth to it. Maybe Doctor Gil wasn’t completely insane during these supposed episodes he was having. Maybe he felt safe, surrounded by security personnel, as well as his automaton assistants. Aside from the shells raining down inside the fortress walls, the blue ghosts were the only threat to his life at Fort Baldi. That had to contribute to what happened.

“We could just knock him out and carry him,” Shark offered.

Not helping the case, Gil bitterly mused.

“I want to know if his change was based internally or externally,” Red said, looking at Gil, “If it’s the latter, then knocking him out is inadvisable.”

“Agreed,” the leader nodded.

“By the way, Red,” Shark made a soft pivot, “what did you find in his notes?”

“The notes?” Gil looked around and quickly spotted his briefcase. Not only was it open, but his research materials were completely out of order. He gasped when he saw that one of the autoinjectors was missing. Red had it right there in his left hand. “What are you doing? Why do you have that?” Surely they could understand the briefcase was better left closed. He wasn’t even surprised they had gotten the thing open in spite of the combination lock, though the doctor did suspect the lock was broken now.

“Never put all your eggs in one basket,” Red said casually. He slid the autoinjector into one of the many pouches on his vest.

Well, at least they weren’t intent on destroying everything. Still, this hardly seemed like the time or place to be rifling through his the doctor’s things. “What are you people trying to do exactly?”

“In a word?” the leader shrugged, “research. We couldn’t wait for you to wake up to find out what happened.”

“The doctor may not be dangerous,” Red explained, “but the compound he came up with is. The physical substance is working fine, but what it does to mana is mostly undocumented. I’m guessing he wasn’t accounting for the communicative properties. It’s a shame there isn’t much he can tell us.”

Gil flinched. That was most certainly not true. “I more than accounted for everything. The hive creatures my materials were taken from were processed correctly and thoroughly. They can’t attune the mana around them beyond the acceptable parameters.”

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence,” Shark said derisively.

“Don’t underestimate crimson psionics,” Red warned the doctor.

The leader of the blue ghosts knelt down over the briefcase and lined up the research pages inside. “I think that’s all Doctor Gil has for us.” He closed the case and stood back up with it. “Next time he does something like that, Shark knows what to do. We’ll figure out the rest once we’re back at base.”

“What happens to me, then?” Gil asked, though a part of him really didn’t want to know. The ghosts had been interested in the test subjects of the Crimson Tide Project before, but now there was strong evidence that something was terribly wrong with them, something terribly wrong with him. The doctor feared for his safety more than ever now, not just because Shark had an excuse to harm him, but because a new threat was lurking within. He didn’t quite understand the implications yet, but he was quickly putting together a grim picture in the back of his mind. Were his days numbered from the moment he began to test the 2XS stimulant on himself?

No one answered him this time. Shark shoved Gil forward as their leader and Red made for the exit.

Next

Previous

Fleeing Victory #10

by Phoenix | Nov 21, 2021 | FV, Pinned, Short Stories

Crimson

“You’re Doctor Alfred Gil, the medical scientist overseeing the Crimson Tide Project.”

The doctor could only nod as the first of the Blue Ghosts he’d encountered approached him. Calig was more than just interested in Munican affairs. They put in the effort to learn about his project in particular, the one he was trying so desperately to salvage after his superiors were completely entranced by the Cordoba. At least this man didn’t sound as likely to kill him anymore.

The mana that surged around the Calman ghost’s body steadily quieted and disappeared. The man standing in front of him now was clad all in black, from his combat fatigues to his armor, mask, helmet, and even his weapons. He was equipped for anything an infiltrator might have to deal with in Fort Baldi; had a pistol holstered on his right hip, a short sword of distinctly Calman design on the left, a knife sheathed on his chest, what must have been a full set of flash grenades on his belt, and a submachinegun tucked away on his lower back. Gil only saw the barrel, but that was the most common way to carry a submachinegun in the eastern part of the continent.

“We have our own intelligence, but there are some details I’d like you to fill in for us. What happens after that depends on what you can tell us.”

“Explain the project from your point of view and keep it brief,” the second ghost said impatiently, “We’re on a schedule.”

Where to even begin, Gil mulled it over as he picked himself up off the floor. He decided to focus on the pivotal point in his research that put him on the track to the Crimson Tide Project’s core methodology, as well as inspired its name. He didn’t know what kind of background these two men had, only that they were trained killers with a mission they would fulfill regardless of who got in their way. If he was going to keep things brief, he would also have to keep them simple. No stalling for time or annoying them with details and explanations neither could really appreciate.

“Brief then. While I was researching alternative means of speeding up the recovery process for prosthesis recipients, I discovered that certain kinds of malevan material can be used to not only aid in a soldier’s recovery, but also better integrate the prosthetic bridges with the subject’s own nervous system.” They probably weren’t brutes, but the doctor could only hope none of that had gone over their heads. He continued at the first Calman’s nod. “Most untreated malevan material is toxic to us, but there is a type of hive species out in the Arenas Desert that has a somewhat different effect–when properly managed, of course.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” the other Calman practically growled, “What happened to your test subjects?”

As afraid as he was, Doctor Gil still couldn’t help but cast a glare at him. While he accepted that what he was doing was on the fringe of medical science, the idea that he had somehow crossed a line and become a madman pursuing unethical treatments was just offensive. More importantly, what he was doing had more than just military applications. His research, given a chance, might someday turn the tide against the countless malevan-induced diseases plaguing modern society. Once this methodology was fully understood, they could finally fight fire with fire in a way that actually gave tangible results, and negligible side effects. That’s what Gil’s findings suggested, at least. With all funding diverted from the Crimson Tide Project, his progress had slowed dramatically.

Gil cleared his throat and tried to keep himself composed. For all intents and purposes, he was a hostage. It wouldn’t do him any good to be aggressive with these two. “There have been no negative reports from any of the volunteers. Moreover, with all my funding taken away, I haven’t been able to continue the project.” The doctor remembered midway through his rebuttal that his project was technically suspended. The Calman ghosts were asking him to explain the details to them, though. Something felt off again, but he didn’t know exactly what. He also didn’t know what he should and shouldn’t say, both for the sake of his project, and his own life. The Calmans in general weren’t fans of malevan research; they were the ones that popularized the term ‘crimson’ in reference to malevans to begin with.

“But you are still working on it,” the first Calman ghost said insistently, “You’re already in the trial phase.”

How much did they know? Gil was hoping it was just a bluff, but if he got himself caught being dishonest, he doubted he would be leaving the laboratory wing with his life. “Y-yes,” Gil admitted. He just hoped that being open and honest with them was the right thing to do. They could just as well kill him for spearheading research their superiors hated as being a useless source of information. This was a delicate balancing act at best and a roll of the dice at worst.

“Who are the new test subjects?” the impatient one demanded.

“The test subjects?” Gil asked on reflex.

“You’re still doing the research, so who are the lab rats?”

“I …” Gil found himself on the edge of laughter. The Calmans may have known about the project in general, but they had no idea how thoroughly the doctor’s efforts were being undermined. The fear quickly came back and helped the doctor rein himself in in time to avoid laughing at the two ghosts. He didn’t know why they were so interested in the test subjects in particular, but there weren’t any hidden away anywhere. Once the project was suspended, all of the volunteers were moved to a different base and were supposedly being monitored closely for a time. Once they were deemed fit for duty, they might even be transferred back to Fort Baldi. The place would certainly need fortifying after this latest attack, Gil noted.

As for testing the latest version of the combat stimulant, there was only one test subject now: the doctor himself. Gil was hesitant to reveal that, though. What if they saw the test subjects as contaminated and simply wanted to kill them? How was he going to get out of this if he revealed that he was the only loose end, or worse, one of their targets for extermination?

“Stop stalling. Who are they?”

The doctor’s life might be hanging on the answer, but he’d already held back for too long. Anything he said now would be under serious scrutiny, more so than anything else he’d told them up to this point. “W-what do you want me to say? I haven’t been able to find any new test subjects because the project is suspended.” Not so much an answer as an explanation of just how bad the situation was for the Crimson Tide Project. “The original volunteers were shipped off for close monitoring some time ago.”

“Original?” The first Calman tilted his head slightly. He wasn’t even trying to sell it as genuine curiosity.

Doctor Gil cursed his own wording. He was caught.

Sort of.

The ghosts didn’t know that he was the one and only test subject left for the project, but now they had enough clues to figure it out for themselves.

“If the project’s suspended,” the second started again, “then who did you rope into it?”

“N-no one,” Gil said in a strained half whisper, “I’m the only one involved now. Just, please.” Feeling cornered, the doctor slowly raised his hands up, pleading with them both. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in test subjects, but I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“I see.” That seemed to satisfy the first. “We’ve got a few minutes left. Explain what your latest testing involved, what the results were, and what you’re aiming to achieve in the final product.”

“I’ll-,” the doctor hesitated, taking a moment to try and read the man as best he could. It was impossible to tell what he really wanted. The second was obviously irritated, but Gil didn’t really know why, or how to avoid making the man’s disposition even worse. “I’ll do my best.”

The latest version of the combat stimulant for the Crimson Tide Project was designated M3CT-2XS. According to Doctor Gil, the animal tests had gone well, though he hadn’t been able to perform very many of them. Now he was ready for testing on prudens, rather, testing on himself. He had a significant batch of M3CT-2XS, as well as four autoinjectors.

Originally, Gil planned to use all four autoinjectors on himself over the course of a single month, carefully monitor his condition, document his findings, and tweak the 3XS version of the stimulant accordingly. Somehow Gil had avoided being shot in the course of explaining this and his findings to the two Calman ghosts.

Gil was surprised by just how good he was starting to feel speaking about his ideas so openly. The Calmans were foreigners armed to the teeth, ready to put him down at a moment’s notice, but there was no one else the doctor could be so open with. It was ironic and a little unfortunate that they were Calmans. This might have been Gil’s one chance to sell someone from outside Munica on his combat stimulant, but the Calmans hated malevan lifeforms of any kind. That hatred spanned thousands of years across countless tribes and city-states. One bold, optimistic scientist wasn’t going to change their minds. At least, he thought to himself, he was still alive.

Once Gil told them everything he could, the first Calman turned toward the damaged laboratory door. “If you’re the only test subject here, then you’re coming with us.”

“With you?” Gil didn’t know why they would want to take him with them. It didn’t make much sense for a team of death commandos to come all this way just to hear his side of the story and then leave, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to be extracted by the end. Murdered, definitely, but not whisked away to who knows where. Looking back on the situation, and remembering the note, maybe being abducted was always the plan. Perhaps the fear that came with being hunted left him unable to fully read the situation.

“The materials are one thing,” the second Calman said, “but getting him out is going to be a challenge.”

“Agreed.”

“Wait,” Gil said, looking over to the ghost that disarmed him earlier, “Weren’t you prepared for this? Wasn’t that the plan all along? Weren’t you confirming who I was just now or is it only the test subjects you’re interested in? And what about that note you left me?”

The two men glanced at each other briefly, then looked back at the doctor. Whatever that look was, Gil could already feel the honesty in the room evaporating.

“Don’t worry about that, Doctor. Just grab that briefcase of yours and get ready to move.”

“You did stuff it with everything regarding your project, right?” the impatient ghost said, “Including the autoinjectors?” There weren’t any loose ends with these two, apparently.

Gil nodded. “Naturally, but still … at least answer one question for me.”

“We aren’t telling you where you’re headed.”

Admittedly, Gil would have liked to know that too, but it wasn’t the answer to the question that was burning brightest in him at that moment. It was the question he had before, back even before the attack. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would leave him a note warning him that they were coming for him specifically. The men who presumably did that were right here. If he just figured out why, he might be able to put together their motives himself. He might finally be able to fully grasp the situation. Or maybe it was just a rationalization, something to justify Doctor Gil’s eccentric nature. He couldn’t leave a mystery alone to save his life.

“Just please tell me why you warned me you were coming. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s been driving me insane trying to understand.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now? Are you serious?”

Doctor Gil squinted at the second ghost, listening carefully for any clues. He couldn’t be sure, but they were both being just dismissive enough to seem evasive. They had him, he could no more expose or embarrass them than he could fight them, so why avoid the question? Unless …

“You didn’t leave me that note, did you?” The words left Gil’s lips entirely of their own accord. He could only stand there, dumbfounded by the fact that there wasn’t just one group after him, but two.

The first ghost turned away and brought two fingers up to his helmet, right where his left ear was. “Red, is the door still open?”

“Keep quiet from now on,” the second ghost warned Gil.

“Good. We’ve got everything, but there may be a challenger on site. Keep your eyes peeled.”

A ‘challenger’ was an interesting way to refer to a third party, the doctor noted.

“Let’s move.”

To be continued

Previous