5th Column Comics: Gaia #2
I sit in silence watching the footage captured by the security cameras positioned in Bio-Lab 3, of the single most important specimen that I have ever seen. Sipping my vodka, I place the shot-glass down in the bullet wound drilled into the human skull I keep in my office. Hooper isn't the first person to get ambitious without the right to at Xiphos; he won’t be the last either but that, for the moment doesn't matter. All that matters is the Blight-Carrier hybrid, his genetic code could be the key to unlocking the carrier gene and finalising the modified Blight virus that I've been working on. Walking over to the wall phone I dial the number of the quarantine team that keeps the building clean, within two rings the person on the other end picks up.
“Martin, its Doctor Clayton.” I state in my most innocent voice. “How’s the wife?”
“Still trapped in a massive cobalt crystal in deep storage.” Martin answers; his voice muffled by what I assume is a biohazard hood. “What do you want Eloise?” He asks, he has played this game with me before, he’s smart, too smart to be on clean-up really but thankfully his lack of ambition works in my favour, as is his desperation for his wife to be cured, despite what the Carrier and Blight Task Force has released not every Carrier survived their powers activating. Martin’s wife for example was transformed into a living Cobalt Bomb before her powers rendered her comatose.
“Have you cleaned up Bio-Lab 3 yet?” I ask knowing what the answer is. What Martin knows too well is that the Board of Directors is fed up of storing a radioactive woman in the annex building across the research park. It’s only my good graces that have kept them from sterilising the entire building and everything inside it.
“Yeah but we recovered and contained some biological material.” Martin answers, “It should be heading down to you within the hour.” Putting the phone down I turn back to the acid bath and activated the mechanical hoist, the jaws holding Hooper’s head, his skin half burnt off the solution inside.
“Hmm, looks like you weren't a total waste Hooper.” I purr before sending the mechanical hoist back down into the bath.
**
Martin is true to his word and the biological specimen arrives within an hour carried by a very nervous courier. She has every right to be scared of me, but right now the excitement of discovery overwhelms my usual bad mannered approach to the idiots who run round the building like rats in a maze. The sample itself isn't impressive; a few skin cells and a few beads of sweat but to someone like me it’s akin to being handed the Holy Grail. As I start the analysis I feel like a child again, the excitement of a new toy under the Christmas tree. Of course most of the people I know would see another image; one of a demented Vesalius slaving over the bodies of plague victims or a hagged Lucrezia Borgia preparing a poison. I respect these figures, they pushed the envelope of known science, and maybe one day my name will join theirs in equal parts infamy and awe.
My first findings seem to support this, the gene structure was too degraded by an alkaline cleaning agent, if not for the footage captured by security I would have blamed Martin, but I was able to isolate a single protein marker, one that is easily traceable. The only problem is that the trace evidence leads into the heart of the quarantine zone, this is not the problem however, no the roadblock to my discovery is the Carrier and Blight Task Force. Set up to keep Carrier’s isolated inside Indigo City, the Task Force is quite adept at keeping Scahill’s octopus of companies out of the city. Despite this problem I make the call, and twenty minutes later my lab looks more like a dinner party as Stallion and his men arrive.
“Doctor, I presume you were happy with my gift?” Stallion asks as he leans against a cabinet.
“I was, definitely worth interrupting me for.” I purr before handing him a portable tracker. “I got you one as well, hope you like the colour.” I add as he looks down at the device. “It should help you track Hooper’s errant guest.”
“What about the blockade around the quarantine zone?” A Middle Eastern accented voice asks. I turn to the speaker and take in the woman with a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. Like the others she is ex-military and keeps her real name to herself, the only thing I know about the woman known as Caracal is that she was part of the IDF and one of the world’s best marksmen.
“A problem, but one we can mitigate.” Stallion tells her. “I can think of a way to get past in Director Scahill can’t get us safe passage.”
“She can't, asking for permission would jeopardize the covert nature of Project Phage.” I tell the six man mercenary team, running over their equipment and code names. Unlike the CBTF, Mattock doesn't have access to the advanced technology and armour their foot soldiers enjoy, what they have instead is a years worth of training in environmental conditions that mimic the abilities that some of the Carrier’s possess. In addition they trust each other, and in a military situation that is more vital than any other weapon you can bring to the frontline.
“So how do we get in?” The largest of the mercenaries, a hulking dark skinned man from Kenya asks, the ammo belts draped over his shoulders clinking slightly.
“Inside help Eland.” I reply as a person dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt steps into view from the shadows. “Meet my lab assistant Valerie.” I state as the woman under the hood stares at the mercenaries from behind a gas mask. “She used to be such a chatty thing before Project Glass Slate ‘improved’ her life with a little lobotomy.” I state as I take my assistant’s hand and stroke it softly. “Most of the other test subjects were sent away to collect material from areas too hazardous for any sane person to enter, but I petitioned to save this one from the gunfire of overzealous security guards.”
“That’s sick.” The soldier known as Drake hisses as he uses the pilot light of his long barrelled flamethrower to ignite his cigarette. “And that’s something coming from me, since I burn people for a living.” He added as the last two soldiers just stare at Valerie. I feel a mixture of revulsion and contempt at the way Wisnet and Bronco (the names of the guilty parties, if such things can be called names) are staring at Valerie, I've been stared at like that before, usually by idiots and bullies, it was those looks that me cruel.
“As I was about to say,” I snort, “the aim of Project Glass Slate was to make silent, stealthy operatives that could remove certain resources, even from the most guarded secrets. Right now Xiphos possess the only two remaining strains of Smallpox, despite what the CDC and their Russian counterparts think. I’m certain Valerie can open the door key for us.” I add as my assistant sinks back into the shadows. Right now I'm not Gaia, she doesn't plan raids or assaults, and no I’m more akin to Boudica, renegade Queen amassing a force against a rigid and mentally slow enemy. I’d like to think that something of her runs in my blood and I know, that by day’s end blood will be spilt, blood that I can bathe my hands in.
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