GeNext Mobile Command Center, the Francisco Ward
"Tell me, men, what is the single most important quality in a soldier?"
Vasyl Kapeniak stands with his hands folded behind his back, unable to wrest his eyes away from the scene before him.
Separated by a thick layer of tempered glass the fighting pit in front of the meeting room hosts a gory exhibition, as a beastly man, infected with a perfect cocktail of Freak Formula and Necodexa Virus does battle with a group of brave survivors.
“Is it speed?”
Five of the survivors surround the colossus and attempt to stab at him with sword and spear but, in a flash, the infected sidesteps, dodging each strike with inhuman ease.
"Is it strength?"
Three of the larger men in the group decide to attack in-stereo, jumping on the freakishly large walker. For a second, the infected staggers but quickly regains footing and tosses two of the men aside as if they were mere rag-dolls, their bodies hitting opposite walls with a sickening crunch. The beast grips the last man in his colossal hands and in a show of brute strength literally rips him in half at the waist.
"Perhaps it is intelligence."
The oldest man among the survivors wisely keeps his distance, pulling a rifle from a rack on the wall. A veteran of two wars, he calms his shaking hand as his finger falls on the trigger. The beast, previously acting as if he was unaware of the man's presence, now smiles and in the last possible second, steps out of the old man's cross-hairs, the rain of bullets meant for it instead hitting two of the other survivors.
Leaping towards the shooter in the span of two gigantic strides, the infected tackles the elderly male to the ground. "Mijo, no," the old man pleads as the beast begins pummeling him until all that's left is a shattered skull and a pool of blood.
The infected man, now drenched in the blood of his family, turns to one last individual; a young girl, clutching a small teddy bear as if her life depends on it. She shivers, a lump forming in her throat as she eeks out a single word. "Daddy..."
The Freak's sadistic grin immediately fades, a glimmer of the man he once was sparkling in his eyes. Inner-turmoil apparent in its pale green face, he looks up towards the observation room, towards the man in black who made him the way he is.
Kapeniak regards the living weapon, a small preview of what's to come. He pauses, remembering how this very man had resisted capture so vigorously, even landing a punch on the genius geneticist's face, a claim that not many can make.
"No, gentlemen," although his tone is cool and collected, his voice seems to echo from every corner of the room. "These days, any soldier can be strong as Hercules, as fast as as a supersonic jet. We've seen them in action in Venezuela, Colombia, Iceland, the United States, Spain. Yet, all of those traits mean nothing if the soldier lack one important thing: compliance."
Dark-tinted glasses obscuring his expressionless face, the GeNext head scientist looks back at the girl, watching as she takes a cautious step forward. What could be going through her mind as she looks into the eyes of her infected father? Perhaps she remembers their trip to Madrid a few years back where she was lucky enough to spot one of the beautiful Liafadors from afar. Maybe she remembers the Saturday mornings when this same man would serve her a bowl of Lucky Charms and together they'd watch the animated adventures of Thee Champion on cable T.V. Or maybe her mind is blank, already resigned to the painful fate of dying by her father's hands..
With a subtle nod, the Man in Black delivers the kill command, wailing screams filling the room in a matter of seconds. When the deed is done all that remains is a bloodied white dress and a teddy bear to bear witness to it all.
"Compliance is the single most important trait of a perfect soldier. Before this quarter is over, GeNext will deliver to you an army. Fast, strong, intelligent, merciless, and above all compliant. Thank you for your time."
The men in the room, typically a stoic bunch, can't help but stand up and applaud the gruesome presentation, images of a broken world and golden thrones, dancing in their insidious heads.
Satisfied, Vasyl Kapeniak ambles out of the room, a wide smile forming on his lips. Soon.