The tainted drizzle escalated into a downpour. From the spartan, sterile confines of her fifth-floor study, Dr. Idriss watched watery, grey-green globules splay across the windowsill. Pollution...one of mankind's chief legacies upon the planet. From blighted crops grown in eroded, toxic soil
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to the stench of methane fumes, factory smoke and industrial landfills the
contamination spread fast as an airborne virus within the ecosphere, leav
ing all it came into contact with scarred and changed irreparably.
Her thin lips stretched in semblance of a smile, etched with bitter cynicism.
Humanity indeed. The ignorant populace had bred its number to degrees where
poverty, homelessness and malnutrition served as standard occurence in every
major city of the globe, its myriad social-economic diseases too lengthy and
redundant to calculate. Had the progenitors of *her* race had their way before
their motherland sank violently beneath the waves of the Pacific Ocean due to
earthquakes and massive volcanic eruptions, leaving only an ingenious few that
She turned her back to the downpour after another maltinted shaft of lightning
flared amidst a backdrop of steel towers and skeletal, metal-rimmed constructs.
Dr. Idriss steepled her pale fingers together, thoughts turned once again to her work. To insure the survival of a species upon the planet, drastic measures
were called for, certain genetic codes must be re-mapped, imbibed with the stem
cell tissue of her ancestors, then spliced and sequenced into the hosts pattern
with extreme delicacy to allow for compatible protein synthesis. By the Dark Mother, she'd dealt with her share of failures before, kept for study in the underground vaults. Her most successful project, initially dubbed Subject 2112,
resulted in a genetically grown child, in which she'd inserted strands of her own DNA into the pattern to further the chances of the infant's survival.
An inhuman, multi-pitched shriek erupted from her throat as she fung aside a chair, sending it toppling to the floor. *That* progeny had been taken from her
- seized in a military raid of the compound eleven years ago. She'd been called
away briefly to survey some paltry pathetic study Nugenica was doing on radiati
on and chemotherapy and returned to find her lab in a shambles - broken glass everywhere, seized notes, everything gone. Fools. Dr. Idriss ground her teeth and composed herself. No distractions, especially emotional ones.
Her work must come first, always.
From the darkened confines of his cell he stared out. Eyes the shade of gunmet
al took a calculated mental inventory of his surroundings; the shiny reflective
metal of the operating room table, polished like the tray that held the sugical
equipment,recently used. Rows of shatterproof glass test tubes and petri dishes
stacked neatly next to the microscopes and medical lab charts, smells of dried
blood and chemicals, the droning hum of the flourescent lighting and electrical
Tetsuo sat cross-legged in the shadowed cubicle, chakras aligned to the static
flow of vital Chi energies that encompasses the space around him. Perhaps five doors down the hall a young woman's screams reverberated as she was fitted for her 'conditioning', mentally and psychologically assaulted with a subliminal bar
rage of images designed to program her for a specific task. Tetsuo recalled his own little session; the doctor hadn't liked having his arm fractured. The Asian youth had passed out shortly afterward and re-awoke in his cell, drugged. Some
immeasurable time later the doctors had come back accompanied by sturdily-built
orderlies who'd seized his rangy, iron-muscled frame, strapped him down on the shiny surgical table, shot him full of that weird Z-something agent (since he'd
refused to take it orally), drawn his blood and run test after test. In Tetsuo's
desensitized state he could only make out sparse, jumbled bits of conversation:
"Subject's t-cell count is escalating to fend off harm to its system, blood pressure elevated but still well within safety perameters."
"A perfect specimen, nanostemcell activity has achieved direct protein synthes
is and proves to be compatable with the host cells. Integration is a success!"
"This marks the third out of the original four hundred. Get these results down
Then a woman's voice with an odd pitch to its tone,reminiscent of radio static.
"Splendid, gentleman. Subject 77755 is indeed a superior mark."
*Let me out of these restraints*, Tetsuo remembered thinking,*and I'll give you
a taste of my superiority, you gai-jin bitch. One does not dishonor a chosen of the Five Mountain Path and Heir to the Celestial Blade Clan without serious pay
backs* The fires in his soul hungered for bloodthirsty vengeance. Had his father
still lived, a simple phone call would have been all it took to shut this debas
ed series of experiments down, squashed like roaches to serve as fodder for the Yama Kings...
Patience, Tetsuo told himself. His athletic frame ceased its meditative stance.
In a graceful, fluidic motion he rose and assumed a martial artist cat stance. A
series of slow deep breaths poured air into his lungs as vital Chi energies cour
sed through his body. He began a few empty hand movement katas, then switched to
shadow boxing in effort to purge his body of wretched sedatives.