Retrohorror
PIt-a-pet
Dr. Clark in her time was highly regarded for her contributions to modern medicine. Once, he idolized her, but Captain Nicolas Cabeza now thought differently. In her pursuit of results, she had abandoned her oath as a physician. Her experiments had taken an unethical turn, and before he realized that he had been kept privy of the details, it was too late.
His research into gene therapy had been taken from him and transformed into weapons of war.
Genome soldiers, they were called. The US now had leverage on the world stage when it came to conflict, and he had played a detrimental part in it.
For a while, Nicolas fell into a deep depression and took a leave of absence from the military.
Weeks turned to months, and then a year. His LOA would have turned indefinite with his retirement until he was convinced by his colleague to return. Although the genome soldiers were largely successful, there was still tests to run and too many variables that were yet to be studied. 'Only you can make sure things don't get out of hand, Captain,' she said. 'These soldiers would benefit greatly from being in your care.'
It was hard to say what else really convinced him to travel all the way out here to a frozen shithole. Surely it was not to prance around in -13°F weather or some half-assed attempt to appeal to his bleeding heart. But suddenly you were aboard the next flight to Alaska in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Nicolas was supposed to monitor the Next-Generation Special Forces. Run a few labs, routine check-ups, nothing more. But suddenly, the soldiers had taken both the Darpa chief officer and ArmsTech president and he was strung along by a handful of lackeys. As he was corralled unceremoniously to a holding cell, Nicolas barred his teeth with their treatment of him.
"Damn it, let go of me! I have two feet; I can walk!" He ripped his elbow away from one of the soldiers.
Their hands reached for their rifles in anticipation, yet they did not draw them. Perhaps this was out of respect for him being a doctor and all. Regardless, Nicolas was not going to entertain the idea. Who knows how long they planned on keeping him confined, and it wasn't that unlikely for plans to change later on. They would sooner have his head impaled on some pike along the wall as a "message" to the American government.
Rolling his shoulders, he led the two soldiers down the hall into the first holding cell that wasn't already occupied. And without saying anything else to the two men, he walked in willingly. He could see the way they gave each other a look as though slightly perplexed by his behavior. They should be so lucky he made their job a lot easier.
"Sorry doc, nothin' personal. We gotta keep you in here until further notice."
Nicolas shrugged, "Not like I'm going anywhere. You got places to be right? I'll be here if you boys need me."
With a final look, they shut the metal cell door behind him and Nicolas was left to his own devices.
His research into gene therapy had been taken from him and transformed into weapons of war.
Genome soldiers, they were called. The US now had leverage on the world stage when it came to conflict, and he had played a detrimental part in it.
For a while, Nicolas fell into a deep depression and took a leave of absence from the military.
Weeks turned to months, and then a year. His LOA would have turned indefinite with his retirement until he was convinced by his colleague to return. Although the genome soldiers were largely successful, there was still tests to run and too many variables that were yet to be studied. 'Only you can make sure things don't get out of hand, Captain,' she said. 'These soldiers would benefit greatly from being in your care.'
It was hard to say what else really convinced him to travel all the way out here to a frozen shithole. Surely it was not to prance around in -13°F weather or some half-assed attempt to appeal to his bleeding heart. But suddenly you were aboard the next flight to Alaska in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Nicolas was supposed to monitor the Next-Generation Special Forces. Run a few labs, routine check-ups, nothing more. But suddenly, the soldiers had taken both the Darpa chief officer and ArmsTech president and he was strung along by a handful of lackeys. As he was corralled unceremoniously to a holding cell, Nicolas barred his teeth with their treatment of him.
"Damn it, let go of me! I have two feet; I can walk!" He ripped his elbow away from one of the soldiers.
Their hands reached for their rifles in anticipation, yet they did not draw them. Perhaps this was out of respect for him being a doctor and all. Regardless, Nicolas was not going to entertain the idea. Who knows how long they planned on keeping him confined, and it wasn't that unlikely for plans to change later on. They would sooner have his head impaled on some pike along the wall as a "message" to the American government.
Rolling his shoulders, he led the two soldiers down the hall into the first holding cell that wasn't already occupied. And without saying anything else to the two men, he walked in willingly. He could see the way they gave each other a look as though slightly perplexed by his behavior. They should be so lucky he made their job a lot easier.
"Sorry doc, nothin' personal. We gotta keep you in here until further notice."
Nicolas shrugged, "Not like I'm going anywhere. You got places to be right? I'll be here if you boys need me."
With a final look, they shut the metal cell door behind him and Nicolas was left to his own devices.
