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[DarkLink_14]

Two Years Ago



One man stood alone. The six by eight foot cell was sparsely furnished; heavy, reinforced, stone made up two of the four walls. A lonely cot alongside one wall and a stainless steel toilet along the other. The man looked through the glass wall that looked out over the city, his heavy breath fogging the glass in front of him. He looked at his own reflection as much as the skyline. Several strands of his black hair now fell in front of his eyes which he quickly brushed away. It was late and he hadn’t slept in two days. He rubbed his eyes for a moment then, with his right hand, tapped the glass like he had done several times before. They called it glass, but it was a several-layer sandwich of glass and plastic, very strong, resistant to penetration from all but the highest caliber firearms and virtually shatterproof.

It was a unique prison, located on the upper floors of a hundred story skyscraper. A fall from this height was guaranteed to be fatal and those who sought to fight their way to the ground floor would have the equivalent of several army regiments to fight through. It was a practical solution to housing prisoners in an overcrowded environment. Of course, the downside of an urban prison is that if one ever did manage to escape, they would have literally millions of places to hide, as this man well knows.

He smirked for a moment. This prison, along with half of the city, and some say, the nation, was run by the international production conglomerate known as DyneMechanics. DyneMechanics, or DM as most simply call it, is the nation’s largest military contractor as well as the largest producer of consumer goods. It has branches in the pharmaceutical industry, genetic research, as well as other projects it has deemed, classified. Its employees number in the millions, including, once, this man’s father. That’s where it had started. One man, trying to do good with science, only to lose it and his life to his power-hungry employer. This man, Darien, knew this, but no one would listen. Who would? All ears were owned by DM. He took it upon himself to see that DM would find justice. His current imprisonment was not of his own false step. It was all carefully planned, and he smiled.

At this altitude, temperatures are cold and winds are strong, he heard it, even now as his breath fogged up the glass staring out towards the night sky. He would have liked to know what time it was; if they were on schedule, he would be free in a few minutes, if not, there would be hell to pay when he did get free. He paced the length of his cell a moment. A guard passed by, doing his rounds. Darien thought for a moment, then knocked on the glass. The guard turned, Darien stared back. The guard had a look of frustration and contempt, Darien could tell, even under the guard’s helmet. DM had wanted Darien for years. He had made their lives hell, sabotaging their projects, evading capture, and making the company appear inept; this was, after all, the nation’s largest contractor of military weapons and technology and yet they had failed to capture this one man who was never a stone’s throw away from their front door. The guard wanted to go home, though at the same time, Darien knew the guard was glad to see DM’s thorn finally locked away. All this in a single silent stare, then the guard turned, as if to continue his rounds.

“What time is it,” came the voice from inside the cell.

“Ten-thirty,” the guard replied without turning. “Why? You got a date?”

Darien smirked back. “No,” he said. “I just don’t want to be late.”





Not far away…



A figure in skin-tight black sped across the rooftop toward a utility box. DM was cocky. For some reason they thought that the awesome height of their building kept it safe; safe enough to put vitally important utility controls on the rooftop where anyone determined enough, or crazy enough, could get to it. The silhouette grinned under his mask. At least the box was locked via electronic pass code, but it would do little to stop someone who had come this far, and it would not stop him. With one forceful push, he pulled the faceplate off and examined the device’s innards. The intricate web of wires connected the keypad to the main security computer that kept track of when and who opened the lock. A good hacker could actually tap into the computer from this simple port and wreak havoc on their security programs, but that was not his objective today. Focusing on his task once more, he pulled a small pack from his belt and opened it. He examined the components before pulling the necessary tools. It was simple enough. Through the web of wires leading to this computer and that computer was a simple circuit controlling the lock on the utility box. Some alligator clips and wire cutters were all he needed to bypass the locking mechanism so it wouldn’t notice when he got rid of the lock the old-fashioned way. It was complete and utter child’s play. A few seconds with the laser cutter and the lock was gone, allowing access to the box’s vulnerable insides. The fuses were simple enough, nothing more complicated than what one would have at home. DM must have thought themselves clever for having so many fuses and not labeling a single one. He audibly laughed when he saw this. One sheet of paper inside his pack had the labels for every fuse in the box. For a moment, he was tempted to leave everyone in the bathrooms in the dark, but he decided to just stick to the plan.

First switch to go would be security for levels fifty and up. Next would be main power for the prison levels. The building surely had safeguards, so the power would not be cut instantly. He gave it five minutes before the capacitors drained and the guards would finally be aware of something wrong, just enough time for him to get inside. Before finishing, he switched the building off its main ventilation system to its auxiliary systems. Sneaking through vents was hard enough without smoke and god-knows-what else blowing into your face.

Leaving the utility box, he hurried over to the building’s main vent, which even now was emptying any leftover gasses from its system. As it did so, the figure pulled the mask off and taking a deep lungful of the icy cold air. He personally hated the whole stealth suit idea, but considering he was breaking into a “high-security” prison, he was convinced to take the route of stealth, though it was not really his preferred method. He decided he would play it Darien’s way, this one time.

A few breaths later and this man, known to himself and a scant few others as Edward Don, double-checked his equipment a final time before proceeding with the plan. As he did so, he couldn’t help remembering the first time he had been in this building. Things were different then; impersonal. Now, now there was no money. No more million-dollar bullet, no more cash advances, just him on one side. DM was after him as much as they were after Darien and the two decided the best way to hide was to get so close to DM as to be invisible, and he has to admit, it’s worked well enough so far. While Darien may be in this solely to get at DM, Edward was different. He was waiting for something. For someone to walk into his crosshairs. He frowned. Now wasn’t time for that. The vent had emitted its final plume of smoke and it was nearing zero-hour, then he would smile.



Elsewhere

Akina Ames sat alone in the lab. Her single-bulb lamp created a small island of light among a seemingly endless see of darkness. Akina herself was oblivious to it. Her vision was limited now, limited to the contents of a small glass slide under the magnifying view of her microscope.

This was Akina’s fourth year working at this particular laboratory. In that short time however, she had gone from being a run-of-the-mill lab technician to being in charge of all but the most important projects. Unlike the rest of the lab technicians who seem to have no further aspirations than getting a paycheck at the end of the week. Unlike them, Akina was focused, she had been for a long time. If she thought about it, she might have said she was lonely, which may have been a reason she stayed so focused and busy; so she wouldn’t think about it and so she’d always have an excuse.

That aside, she did find satisfaction in her work. The cell was fascinating and mysterious. It was so simple, self-contained, yet infinitely complex. The outside world was fraught with seemingly unsolvable problems. She not only felt that the cellular world was above such petty disturbances, but that most, if not all, of the world’s seemingly unconquerable problems could be solved on the cellular level.

Manipulating some of the controls, the single large cell came into view. She smiled at what she saw; a recently fertilized zygote, just now splitting in half: identical twins, nature’s clones. A sly grin stretched across her face as the cell continued to divide, each half identical to the other. The study of genetic twins had been the foundation of her post-graduate and had lead her to make breakthrough discoveries in this particular field. At the moment, she was applying the results of one of her recent studies. Through tests and observation of thousands of zygotes, she believed she had discovered the trigger that causes a zygote to divide in two and form identical twins. By exposing the newly formed zygote to a previously unnoticed enzyme, the zygote goes into the rare division that leads to twins, or so the research seems to support.

Months of research lead to this one test and though it seems to have tasted success, much in science can turn in a few moments. As she observed the two cells continually divide, she noticed something in what she had dubbed Zygote B. The membranes in its cells seemed to vibrate, it reminded Akina of a person having a seizure. The grin she had worn now turned to a mask of concern. The inner organelles of the cell, including the nucleus, ruptured, spilling their contents into the cell’s gelatinous innards. Eventually, the cell membranes, too, ruptured and for all intents and purposes, Zygote B was dead. What was curious, was that Zygote A, which shares the exact same DNA as Zygote B remained intact. Also, the mitochondria of Zygote B’s cells also appeared to have survived, curious, as the mitochondria carry their own DNA, separate from the cell itself.

Akina closed her eyes. She knew there were many more trials to complete, but she had a feeling they would be more or less the same thing. Still, she wondered why only one of the zygotes had died, and also why the mitochondria survived. Still, those tests would have to wait until later. Her body suddenly felt very heavy. The day had been long, too long, even for her and the experimental failure suddenly made her realize it. Rising from her bench stool, she shut off her lamp, sinking the island that was her workstation into sea of blackness. She rubbed her eyes a moment before hanging her coat and slowly pulling herself out of the lab.

In the darkness, under the abandoned microscope, deep in the cellular world, the remains of Zygote B continued to spill into drops of fluid atop the glass slide. Zygote A did not sit idly by. The mitochondria remaining from the dead cell began to flow through the living cells’ membranes. The cells quivered. The organelles quivered, but the cells did not rupture. The cells grew.



Below

A guard slowly patrolled the corridors several floors above the high security prison cells. Unlike some of the other guards, he was on edge. Darien Anderis had been a fugitive for nearly ten years, and from what he heard, he had come rather easily, almost as if he wanted to be caught. Would he really try something at a prison? It was a crazy idea, but then again, after all he’s done, Darien couldn’t possibly be all there. He shook his head to clear his mind, but he held his rifle a little tighter. Distracted by his thoughts, he failed to notice something. Something quite important. A thin cable noose had fallen on his shoulders. It wasn’t until he felt a small tug that he noticed it was even there. He felt a sudden rush of panic. He looked up, and the noose tightened and he rose up into the ceiling.

In his cell Darien kept a close eye on the lights. He noticed the lights dimmed somewhat. The guards noticed it too. Those that weren’t on edge before were on alert now. From what he’d seen, he guessed maybe twenty guards per floor, Edward could possibly get to maybe three floors away before being noticed, the judging by the dimming lights, he had two, maybe three minutes before the power went out and the guards would be on alert. He cracked his knuckles, he needed to be ready when the time came.

“…Patrol twenty-seven, your report has been logged. Patrol twenty-eight, report….Patrol twenty-eight, Patrol twenty-eight, report now!”

“This is Patrol twenty-eight, sorry sir, I was in the john.”

“What’s your report?”

“Reporting all clear.”

Edward smiled. “Good job,” he said softly as he pulled his silenced pistol off the back of the guard’s head. The guard relaxed, but only for a moment before Edward struck him with the butt of his pistol. Edward caught the body so that it did not alert the remaining guards. He had listened in on their radio communications and disabled those that had just recently reported so that he’d have a little more time. The gas vent insertion had been a tight fit, so he couldn’t bring much more than his pistol and a few extra gadgets, which is why he chose to enter through this floor, an armory station was located on this floor, which would be perfect for the action that was sure to follow.

Locating the station wasn’t difficult. There were more than enough signs pointing it out, though he assumed that was because DM’s grunts weren’t much smarter. The huge double-doors were electronically sealed and were perhaps more than six inches of reinforced steel, it would take a cannon to get it open, that is, if someone were to rough it. Edward grinned as he lowered his night vision goggles. He looked at his watch for a few seconds, closed his eyes, and activated the goggles. He counted slowly in his head, “Three…Two…One…” An audible sound as the power drained from the circuits. One second later, the lights turned off, the cameras deactivated, and one final click signaled the release of all the locks, even those of the huge metal door in front of him.

Darien felt a great relief when the power disengaged. It meant at least one part of the plan was on schedule. The guards were now at full alert, running for their weapons and searching for the source of the disturbance. The cell doors, unfortunately, remained locked, it wasn’t part of the plan. They didn’t want to release any real crazies now did they? Seconds later, the first gunshot rang a few floors above. Odds were, that one came from Edward.

Edward pressed his back against the wall, making sure to keep his extremities behind the corner. Instead of wielding a single, lonely pistol, Edward was now armed to the teeth. He had been like a kid at a candy store inside the armory. The blackout had caught the guards unaware and their surprise gave Edward he few precious seconds he need to disable them. After that, he just had fun. The armory had some of DM’s custom weapons that had been shot at him many times before and would now work for him. The first weapon he picked up was something he’s had an eye on since the first time a DM SWAT Trooper had pointed it at him. It was a special forces assault rifle with various firing modes, laser sighting, a sniper’s scope, and a multi-projectile launcher under the main barrel.

He gripped the weapon tightly now. The first shot wasn’t so much as a warning than a challenge. Soon, the guards would be flooding down the corridor, hopefully with their own night vision goggles. He listened closely. Footsteps, he guessed maybe ten guards. They tried to be quiet, but any sound can be heard when there isn’t even the hum of electricity to hide behind. He knew they’d be taking their positions behind the wall themselves. Only an idiot would charge into an unknown situation, and here he came.

The guard charged down the short hallway only to see Edward emerge from the corner, he activated the projectile launcher and fired a non-fatal, high-velocity, ring air-foil round directly into the guard’s stomach, sending him flying all the way back down the hall. Edward held a sadistic grin on his face. Poor guy wouldn’t be able to eat solid food for a week.

Their comrade down, the other guards activated their goggles and emerged, hoping to get the assailant in their sights. All they saw was Edward ducking behind the corner. The echoing sound of metal against the hard, sterile floor. They all looked down in unison, just in time to see the small metallic orb explode in a burst of blinding light, amplified thousands of times by their goggles. Several pulled the goggles off immediately, but there was little point, they were blinded, most certainly for life.

Edward calmly strolled through the group of writhing guards. Some had collapsed on the floor, holding their now useless eyes. Three, however, remained standing. Edward wrapped his arm around one of the guard’s neck, giving him more leverage when he jammed his knee up into his stomach. The second, Edward kicked in the side of the knee, acknowledging the blow with a loud, disturbing crack. The last one, Edward just pushed over as he continued to the floor below.

The sound of the flash grenade echoed into the lower floors, followed by more gunshots. Darien was sure it was Edward doing the firing. The detention hall was almost deserted now, just a few nervous guards cautiously looking up, almost expecting the intrusion to break through the ceiling above them. Unfortunately for them, there was just as much danger not ten feet from them, just waiting to be let loose.

Edward gave up the fancy stuff. It was all bullets and bombs now, and he couldn’t be happier. The guards seemed to bleed out from the hallways now. A squad of four guards charged up a stairway towards Edward. Four shots, four skulls pierced, another guard behind him, one more shot. Another shot was heard, but it wasn’t his. He felt the wake scratch across his cheek from behind. He spun around and dropped to one knee. He took less than a second to examine the situation. Ten, maybe fifteen guards. He cocked the projectile launcher and leapt backwards and fired a grenade. He closed his eyes, protecting them from the explosion of light, the guards, however got an explosion for their trouble. Edward hit the stairs hard, tucked his legs in and rolled to the bottom, unwinding himself into a prone firing position and squeezed off two more rounds into an oncoming guard. He rose to one knee and took several deep breaths. He was on Darien’s floor now and he’d begun to break a sweat. The guards were coming up from the lower floors now and it was getting a bit too hot, even for Edward. The guard station was located nearby.

The guards on the cell block heard the gunshots on their floor, they were nervous, and Darien though, a little itchy on their trigger fingers now. He breathed slowly. If everything were on schedule, the doors would open…now, and they did. The guard in front of his cell panicked at the sound of the cell door opening behind him. His nervousness betrayed him though, he turned and fired without aim, a shot easily avoided by Darien, who ducked below the gunshot, then rushed in. He grabbed the barrel of the guard’s riffle with his right hand and wrapped his left arm around the guard’s neck. The other guards down the hall had already noticed the escape and were drawing their weapons now as Darien spun around, holding the guard between himself and the oncoming barrage of gunfire. The guard’s vest absorbed the first few shots, but with its compromised integrity, it could not protect him for long. Moment’s later, the guard’s grip on his weapon weakened and the oncoming fire ceased as the guard’s realized their mistake. Their pause was just what Darien waited for. He fired back.

Edward heard the barrage of gunfire down the cell block, followed by a few short bursts. Edward pressed up against the corner, one breath, and he emerged, drawing the gun, only to have a gun pointed in his face in return. The two gunmen emptied their lungs in unison. Edward looked at the other man’s face, recognition sliding in a moment later. Edward lowered his gun and Darien did the same. The cocking of a gun behind Edward drew both their attention. The two fired, stopping the guard.

Edward passed two modified handguns to Darien. “I believe these are yours.”

“Thanks.” Darien checked the magazines. “Empty.”

“Bad news then.”

“What is it now?”

“I’m on empty, too, and I think another squad of guards is coming up behind me.”

“Crap. The cell block is a dead end.”

Edward loaded a grenade into his projectile launcher. “Any ideas?”

“What’s on the other side of this wall?”

“The elevator, why?”

“What floor are we on?

“You know, I don’t like where this is going.”

It took three grenades, but he wall gave way, bearing open the elevator shaft. Both men jumped onto a nearby car.

Edward breathed out a moment and drew his laser-cutter. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Just do it.”

Edward lit his cutter and pressed it to the cable. The sparks glowed for a moment before the cable snapped, sending the two men plummeting downward through the elevator shaft. Usually, the emergency breaks would have kicked in immediately, but due to the power outage, didn’t activate for several seconds into the descent, at which point, they were useless, except for creating an impressive light show. Darien and Edward held on to the roof of the cart as hard as they could as the overwhelming force of acceleration threatened to lift them off.

Edward closed his eyes, feeling the great strain of along his body. Edward fought to keep his eyes open and clenched his jaw as tightly as he could. He was counting the seconds of their descent. This plan had to have near-perfect timing if they were to survive this. He counted in his head, five, four, three…

“Two, one, fire!” The speed of their fall distorted Edward’s command, but Darien heard enough to know it was time. Both men fired their zip lines upward into the metal crossbeams. They stood a moment before being violently pulled upwards, off the car, which crashed moments later into the bottom of the shaft. They slowly lowered themselves the rest of the way, prying open the elevator doors at the bottom.

The first floor was deserted. All the guards were undoubtedly rushing upstairs to the reported disturbance. It was almost anti-climactic as they casually strolled out the front doors. All the time, Edward looked at his watch. He noticed Darien holding his arm.

“What’s up with your arm?”

“Oh nothing. I just didn’t know drawing blood was standard procedure when processing an inmate.”

“It isn’t.”

Darien just stared back at Edward a moment. Edward dismissed it, shrugging his shoulders and putting on his sunglasses and turned back towards the building.

“What are those for?”

“This,” replied Edward as the entire first floor erupted into flames, sending shards of glass and metal outwards. The blast lit up Edwards’s sunglasses and threw Darien to the ground.

“When did you put those in?”

“Meh, I came in a day early.”



Elsewhere

With that Ames woman gone, Dominenko Shapiroff emerged from his laboratory. He had been keeping track of Akina’s research even more closely than she knew. He knew what had happened to her sample. He had made it happen. This girl can think whatever she wanted about her research in this lab, the truth was, they were all his, for his use, and for his purpose. The DM logo on all the lab equipment meant nothing to him. This lab would be nothing without him, which was reason enough to make it his.

Dominenko looked closely at Akina’s sample. This was a vital part of his magnum opus. This, and a blood sample he just received. Through the darkness, his laughter echoed and faded away as the scientist withdrew to his lab once more with Ames’ sample in hand.

[Nevermind]

Present Day



There comes a time when a man simply wants to sit quietly at a bar, drink his beer, and consume his buffalo wings, in peace. For two men, this was every Friday night. There would always be an unwritten law of tolerance regarding other drinkers who would perhaps become too rowdy, or accidentally stumble into another person. A man’s beer is his wind-down; his portal into relaxation. A man’s beer also tastes very good, and the better it tastes, the more it costs. If a man is to lose his beer as a direct result from another’s unruliness, then another unspoken agreement comes into play that enough is enough...


Edward leaned back and looked down at his clothes in disgust.

“Son of a…”
The front of his shirt, right down to the crotch of his pants had been soaked through with beer. Not someone else’s beer, his beer, and it was a damn good beer at that. He took a couple of serviettes and attempted to dry his clothes somewhat, with not much success. Edward turned to his comrade.
“This is the fourth time.”
Darien turned slightly and looked Edward up and down before shrugging and turning back towards the television. “Not my beer.”
“Yeah,” Edward replied wryly, “I know that. Thanks.” To which Darien simply shrugged again.
“Di’n’ mean ta knock ya beer over there, cobber,” came the slurred voice of the perpetrator, his breath smelling strongly of spirits. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Yeah, you will be…” Edward muttered under his breath as he rose to his feet and proceeded to wipe himself off.
“Wha’ was that?” came a boisterous reply.
“I said get out of my face. Go home.”
The drunkard moved in and grabbed Edward roughly by the collar. “You gon’ get smart wi-”
That’s as far as he got. Edward tilted his head back and brought it down hard upon the bridge of the man’s nose. The drunkard stumbled back, clutching his face but Edward didn’t hesitate. With a swift right hook, Edward’s target landed heavily on the floor, out cold.

The third unwritten rule of bars is that no man who makes a noise will ever come alone. This night was no different. The minute his opponent had hit the floor, no less than four rather burly men came rushing towards Edward. “Oh, boy…”

He ducked under the oncoming fist of the first man to step up to the plate and caught the wrist of the second attacker in a firm grip. He swung his other fist into the larger man’s stomach, then moved in close and put his shoulder into the man. Grabbing a leg, Edward used his opponent’s momentum to lift him off the ground, over his head, and slam him down into the bar floor. No time was wasted, however, before the third man’s clenched fist had connected solidly with Edward’s left cheek. Edward stumbled back a few steps and shook his head, somewhat dazed. He turned to the one who had just struck him, and a cool, menacing expression passed over his face. Before he had taken a step, though, a large arm grabbed him from behind, wrapping itself around his neck in a fixed headlock. The two men that were still conscious advanced on him slowly but Edward simply waited until they were just within the reach of his legs and then kicked out and upwards, hitting both squarely in the jaw. One was knocked out, but the other started climbing back to his feet. Edward brought his leg up and swung his heel back into his other assailant’s shin, causing him to release his grip around Edward’s neck. With a sharp turn, Edward’s boot came up to the man’s jaw in a swift roundhouse kick. His attention was now back to the third ruffian he had kicked before. The man grabbed Edward and the two began to grapple. This man was a lot larger than his friends, who were half again Ed’s size already, so Edward wasn’t having much luck. He felt his back slam against the bar as the thug pinned him there. Edward turned to see Darien still watching the TV and eating his buffalo wings. For a second Edward mused over the rich flavour of those wing-bits. They were tasty. His eyes then shifted down to the bowl of peanuts next to Darien’s beer.
“Hey, pass the nuts?”
Darien didn’t say a word; didn’t even turn. He simply sent the glass bowl sliding along the bar into Edward’s grasp, whom then proceeded to smash the bowl against the side of his assailant’s skull.

Darien gave little mind to the quarrel transpiring behind him. The news story on the television was particularly interesting, though the almost constant signal distortion was getting on his nerves, but not enough to squelch his interest in the report. The report covered a press conference DM had given earlier in the day. The press conference concerned a number of scandals and financial problems the company has faced in the past year. In the past twelve months, DM had gone through everything from embezzlement to corruption, to fiscal mismanagement. Also, while the company retained its exclusive contracts with the government, DM had let slip its ninety percent world wide private contracts to only thirty-eight percent. Investors were fleeing the company as if it were some natural disaster. Most financial analysts had basically given DM up for dead. The entire report made him smile as he gave his beer another sip. It was a good beer, and with the news that his crusade may at last be coming to a close made it taste all the better.

Behind Darien, the larger man collapsed in a clump at Edward’s feet giving Edward just enough time to look up and see the last attacker coming towards him in an attempted king-hit move, but Edward simply spun out of his way, taking a hold of his arm with one hand, and placing his other hand firmly on the other man’s back. With a single heave, Edward propelled his opponent towards the bar……right into Darien. The final destination of his target was not deliberate but Edward couldn’t stop himself from emitting a small grin.

DM's press secretary had just mentioned something about DM's long history, their commitment to excellence, their perseverance, and so many other things Darien dismissed as bullshit. What did catch his attention was the mention of a new project the company was working on that, they assured the viewers, would solve all their financial woes and put them back on top. His sources had told him of DM’s “last stand,” but they have not been able to identify its specific nature. It put Darien somewhat on edge but before his beer could sour, some fat, smelly cue ball came falling onto him, knocking the beverage from his hand spilling liquid over his shirt before the bottle shattered on the floor. The whole bar went silent as Darien bit his lip in frustration.

Darien’s stool made a long, slow screech along the floor as he stood up, attempting to brush liquid off of his clothes. He turned with an accusing look towards Edward.
Edward shrugged.

“Not my beer.” His grin widened.

Darien crossed his arms and stared at the slob that spilled his drink. The heavy-set man did little. He had escaped the melee relatively unharmed, but that was a different altercation with a different person. No words were exchanged between the two men. Darien quickly extended his right arm in a jab to the guy’s face, stunning him before, gripping the man by the hair and using his adversary’s own weight to bring his head down face-first into the bar. The head bounced back and the ruffian collapsed in a heap next to his comrade. Darien fixed the collar on his jacket and tossed the barkeep a dollar-coin.
“For the trouble,” he said.

Edward turned to double-check the room, making sure there were no other brave souls willing to avenge the fallen men. Fortunately, no one seemed willing to take on two hot-headed, beer-less men. Edward made sure to check behind him as well, dirty tricks were not unknown after a heated bar fight. As he turned around, he felt his head being pulled back sharply by a strong grip on his ponytail.
“I lost my beer,” came Darien’s cool voice, “enough is enough.”
“I lost mine t-”
“Oh, shut up.”
Edward felt himself shoved through the door to the bar as he was released from Darien’s ‘deathly’ hair-hold.

Outside, the cool breeze was made more noticeable as both men felt the icy liquid on their clothes touch their skin. The darkness was eerily silent for a Friday night. Edward noticed more lights flickering than usual, but shrugged it off. Darien turned his head. Beneath the gentle whistling of the wind, it almost sounded like a low rumble was penetrating the air. He had to admit that it did seem like a strange night, but nothing out of the ordinary, really. There was no way he was going to take special notice of a few faulty power links, or a noise that wasn’t even there. The two headed in the direction of home, neither saying a word and neither noticing the young man behind them stumble onto his knees and empty his stomach over the sidewalk.

‘Home’ was more a miniature stronghold than anything. It was located in the basement and lower floors of what was supposed to be a high-security bank, their hideout. Shortly after the thick walls of the basement vaults were installed, contract disputes and finance problems eventually saw the project cancelled with the unfinished construction site left to fall into obscurity. Darien and Edward had found it a few years earlier and turned into a place one could hole up in and wait out a siege. Many, near-impregnable locks were installed on heavy, vault-like doors; gun cabinets on most walls kept weapons handy in case of an emergency. One of the lower rooms, in what would have been a bank vault, was dedicated just to housing weapons, where they had stockpiled everything from pistols to rifles, even a few of the heavier projectiles Edward was able to bleed off some of his contacts. Another room was reserved for constructing explosives, which Edward had a fondness for. There were enough windows on the upper floors to make for a comfortable living space, each of which Edward made used bullet-proof window. One of Edward’s personal additions to the building was a self-destruct system if worst came to worst. Darien’s contribution was the completion and activation of the would-be bank’s alarm system which would lock the building down, preventing any intruders from entering, and those that are already inside from fleeing. The two men had left the main lobby more or less untouched in order to keep up the appearance of an abandoned building, adding only a few hidden weapons caches as well as a few security gadgets. Access to the other floors was restricted by various security systems. Edward slid open the moulding around the door that opened to the stairway to reveal a keypad. A few taps on the pad deactivated the system and the two walked up the stairs to the second floor lobby, the door and the security system reactivating behind them.

The second floor was supposed to be something of a second lobby with offices lining the sides. Each of them had taken two adjoining offices, knocked down the separating wall and made bedrooms, with the two remaining rooms used as a “gym” of sorts; the other served as something of a guest room. As Edward was kicking off his boots and walking towards his bedroom, Darien called out to him on the way to his own. “You owe me a dollar.”
“What for?” Edward replied gruffly.
“You bet that you wouldn’t get into a fight tonight and I took you up on it.”
”Take it off the dollar you owe me and we’ll call it even.”
Darien arched one of his eyebrows. “What do I owe you a dollar for?”
“Because I always tell you that you pull my hair like a little girl.”
”That isn’t even a bet.”
”No, but it should be.” Edward closed his door behind him.
“Whatever…” Darien muttered to himself under his breath as he closed the door to his room.



Elsewhere

In his lab, Dominenko shrieked with laughter. He was watching DM’s press report on television and he could not help but mock DM’s public face. They seemed so confident their “secret project,” his project, would get them through their bevy of financial problems. They were wrong. The project would only get him away from DM. He had scarcely left his lab in the past few weeks. His two-year long project was finally nearing its end, but he could not be done yet, it would go far beyond what DM had asked of him, all the better to assure his projects would be funded far into the future. If not here at DM, then elsewhere.

The doctor examined the inputs once more. The radiation levels from the reactor were bordering on critical and the power he was drawing from the city’s power grid was sure to have noticeable effects by now, but he didn’t care. He had invested too much into this experiment to care about offending DM; they were the losing team now, too long in the game to notice the ebb in their hits and the stumbles in their runs. It was time for Dominenko to trade up, and this experiment was his ticket.

[Delphi]

OOC: IT LIVES! For now.

IC:

Meanwhile…

Akina hated nights like these…forced to stay late, not to work on her own projects, but to assist Dr. Shapiroff with his, and she used the term “assist” loosely. Truth be told, she had no idea what Shapiroff was working on. She did little more than courier samples from one lab to another or research some bizarre hormone, enzyme, bacterium, or cellular organelle, she never actually saw the experiment. The only thing she could imagine was that it had something to do with radiation, but that was only because Shapiroff had commissioned a gamma ray projector for his lab. The delivery men brought it through the general lab delivery entrance instead of the drop off for Shapiroff’s personal lab. His temper had flared at the mistake and she was surprised he didn’t physically attack the delivery men while he yelled at them for not delivering it directly to his lab.

Shapiroff’s personal lab was isolated away from the general labs most of the doctors and technicians used. His personal lab was likely some kind of condition he demanded before accepting the job with DM. They obviously had a lot of faith in him to produce profitable results. While the biogenetics laboratory had produced several drugs and treatments during her tenure, Akina had seen little to justify their faith in the one doctor. Still, Shapiroff was a world-renowned scientist, whose discoveries in genetics and cellular biology had opened up vast new worlds to explore. Most of the scientific community however, had chosen not to explore these new realms, many believing it was venturing into morally unjust territory, playing god, if you will. Many believed that the scientific community’s reluctance to accept his newest proposals lead to his seeking tenure at a corporate laboratory as opposed to a college or university.

Akina respected the man for his achievements, but personally, she despised the man. For all his genius, he was an empty shell. Arrogant and self-promoting, she wasn’t surprised he isolated himself from the students and unpublished graduates. No one, it seemed, was worthy enough to work alongside him, and to “assist” him, was less than a pleasure as he made no effort in hiding his contempt for those he worked with. Akina loathed the fact that he had been favoring her to be his assistant lately. The idea that he had some sort of physical attraction to her, as some of the less mature lab technicians liked to tease her about, repulsed her to no end, but she didn’t believe Shapiroff was human enough to notice that quality about her. Instead, she thought she chose her as his assistant simply because she was usually the only one in the lab at the times he demanded “assistance.”

This assistance of his was demeaning. As one of the lab’s highest level researchers, she felt it was more than a single step down to be ferrying small parcels marked “confidential” from Shapiroff’s lab to specialized labs and back again. This was the fifth time tonight she had to courier an identical-looking package, and she had been ordered to produce three research reports in the past two weeks.

She took a breath as she approached the double-door entrance to Shapiroff’s lab. The doors were huge plates of cold, dark gray steel, contrasting against the sterile white of the other labs. There was a small control panel on the right side, surely to make things more convenient for the right-handed world. She almost smiled at that one. Her frustration towards Shapiroff spurning anger from such trivial matters like which side the control panel’s on. She closed her eyes and shook her head as she pressed the “call” button. She really needed to get away from all this. A week, maybe two, she thought. What she’d do? She had no idea, but a week away from Shapiroff would be a vacation in itself.

Akina opened her eyes. Shapiroff hadn’t answered the door yet. Unusual since he usually watched the door like a hawk, preferring to end the disturbance quickly to let him back to his work. She pressed the button again. Another moment. Still nothing. Her frustration flared once more. Here she was, seven hours past the lab’s official “lights out” and six hours before they were set to start up again. There was no way she was going to let Shapiroff, no matter what his title, make a fool of her more than she already had.

She beat on the door with her left hand, expecting the loud knock, but not for the door to slide open. She shook that detail out of her mind. She burst into the lab, her frustration and anger ready to erupt into Shapiroff’s face. The lab was dimly lit, and cold, colder than the other labs. Along the sides rows of beakers and petri dishes lay next to high-power microscopes and Bunsen burners.

The narrow tunnel of amateur biology equipment came to an abrupt end about ten meters into the lab. The room expanded into an immense space veiled in darkness. The low hum of electrical flow surrounded her as her as she noticed a significant drop in temperature. Her breath hung in small clouds as she blindly sought for the power switch. A moment later, the low hum grew to a fevered pitch before going silent and triggering a series of lights. Light flooded the sides of the room revealing rows upon rows of stasis tubes. Akina stepped forward through the forest of glass tubes, breathless. She examined each container, trying to identify what the organism was.

A swelling of disgust rose up from the depths of her gut and wedged itself into her throat. Each subject was appeared to be some grotesque perversion of some unfortunate test animal. Fleshless test rats grown to the size of small dogs, their muscle mass far out of proportion to their frames. Other chambers contained everything from cats and dogs to various test apes: chimpanzees, orangutans, and an overly large gorilla, all similarly misshapen. Monstrosities like these couldn’t exist….couldn’t live…could they? The stat monitors said they did and the rhythmic rise and fall of the animals’ chests supported their assertion. They were alive, but they shouldn’t be. It was obvious to Akina, all these, all this, was not only immoral, but illegal. Dominenko had been playing god, and it wasn’t under DM’s orders.

Past the rows of stasis tours was Dominenko’s workbench, a door, and a lone stasis tube. Her inspection first led her to Shapirrof’s workbench. Nothing there. Cold, sterile, almost abandoned. An expensive microscope sitting empty, gathering dust, was the only instrument on the metal table top. Next to it, a large metal briefcase. Akina let out a sigh of relief. The lonely steel bench was a welcome calm after Dominenko’s farm of godplay.

Akina didn’t open the door next to the bench. On the door, a sign warning of radioactive material inside kept her from exploring much further. No doubt, the workspace inside held Shapirrof’s gamma ray projector. Needless to say, the risks of such a high powered instrument which feeds off a nuclear power source, no doubt located on site, worried her somewhat.

Lastly, she investigated the final stasis tube. This one had not lit up like the small forest behind her. Finding the switch on the nearby control panel, she activated the lighting system. With an audible noise, the chamber lit up and Akina stumbled in disbelief. This subject was not mutilated like the others, but it was something the others weren’t. It was human. It was the face, however, that robbed her body of all breath. It was Darien Anderis.

“It’s a shame that it’ll never see field action.” The raspy voice of an old man came from behind Akina. She turned, and saw a wicked grin. Shapirrof’s grin. “I created him from a blood sample collected by DM several years ago,” Shapirrof continued. “The world’s first healthy human clone.” Shapirrof laughed. “Healthy as far as I can tell, at least. Too bad DM can’t afford to keep him, or me for that matter.”

“You can’t do this. DM couldn’t possibly let you do this.”

“BAH! DM won’t find anything here, not in the morning at least. DM is in its death throws. It is on fire and it on course to fall, and it is not going to take me with it.” Akina was more than a little nervous at his words, but she did not let it show.

“What are you planning to do?” Dominenko laughed.

“Maybe someday you’ll be able to find that out for yourself. Then again, maybe not.” Akina didn’t hesitate. She ran for the door, only to be grabbed by the arm by Shapirrof. Akina swung around and brought Shapirrof’s parcel into contact with Dominenko’s head. The fragile contents inside shattered, the impact cutting a gash across his head, drawing blood, but he refused to let go of his prey. Akina struggled to free her self, but in his rage, Dominenko’s grip would not loosen. He dragged Akina towards his Gamma Ray lab and threw the young scientist into the lab and shut the door behind her.

Akina rose from where she had landed and immediately ran for the door, beating upon it with her fist while trying to unlock it. Dominenko however, had secured the heavy door, locking the girl inside. He glared at her through the small porthole window, his head wound bleeding profusely. He said something, but Akina didn’t listen. Shapirrof flipped some switches on a nearby console and immediately the lights shut off, followed shortly by crimson warning lights sounding an alarm around them. Dominenko grabbed the metal briefcase on his workbench as he walked out, trying to stop the blood still flowing from his wound and the lab doors closing behind him was the last she saw of the scientist.

Akina tried to stay calm in her cell as everything around her seemed to point towards imminent disaster. She quickly surveyed the room that would either be her salvation or her tomb. In one corner, a diagnostic panel that alternated a warning screen with several gauges all reading their maximum. After closer examination of the instruments, she realized the gravity of her situation.


Across the city…

….We have breaking news coming in! There has been a nuclear accident at a nearby research laboratory. We have few details but….

The television in Edward’s room broke into static and for a moment before shutting off completely.

“What the hell?” was all he could mutter before the television burst into a shower of sparks and smoke followed by the light bulbs above shattering, leaving the building in complete darkness. Outside, the city lights began to shut down systematically, leaving the city dark and cold. A lifeless city corpse with a scar of fire cutting across the northwestern section and a population unaware that it has suffered one of the greatest disasters imaginable.