by Kipjo Ewers
“Because I fail to see the “good” in them?” he motioned to the D.E.A.D, “Turning a bunch of psychopaths into unstoppable monsters who murder and butcher innocent…”
“Dear god stop…please stop with the holier than though speech,” Rosen shook his head rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Who do you think were flying those planes on 9/11? You think they were soldiers? Studies show that the average “terrorist” has seen his first dead body or body parts up close and personal by the age of five, their playtime is poking rotting corpses with sticks. That same terrorist has either killed or seen a person killed by the age of 13. While almost 95% of the soldiers in our very own military has neither seen nor killed anyone until they’ve been in actual combat… why do you think so many of them are in an “f’ed” up state when they get back? As of 2008 we’ve had the largest suicide rate for service men since 1980, one hundred and twenty-eight confirmed suicides by serving Army personnel and forty-one by serving Marines.”
“We figured out a long time ago that the perfect killer is not one that is trained or condition. It’s one that is naturally born with the joy of killing…” the Director drove the point home, “I personally find it far more productive than having them out there cutting up little girls in the Mid-West, wasting taxpayers’ money on a trial, appeals, and accommodations for either a life or death sentence.”
#4 raised his hand, “I’m more partial to cutting up whores…”
Everyone turned to look at the dumbass elephant in the room.
“Just saying…” he shrugged.
“So this is what it’s all about? Huh? Taking a dump on the Constitution and murdering any and anyone who stands in the way of your quest to create a Master Race; so is there a color requirement or a dollar amount to get an “S” on your chest?” Mark threw out there, as he slowly got back to his feet. It was actually a tactic by him to buy some time to think of something to get them out of this obviously impossible situation.
“You think I’m Oliver North?” the Director laughed.
“You think we spent the last almost 70 years busting our asses to become gods to sell it off for some printed paper, metal, stones…oil?! I should shoot you myself on mere principle…especially for implying that I’m a racist, my banker is black goddammit,” Rosen sneered at him.
“I told you we’re here working to save “American lives”, if Russia wants to make their own Ivan Drago,” the Director laughed before getting serious again; “Let them figure it out for themselves along with the rest of the world. This one the good ole U.S of A is strictly keeping for ourselves …which is why you should be rejoicing… a dawn of a new day Special Agent…soldiers like you use to be will soon be just like her.”
Rosen walked over motioning to Sophia, “The only thing we’ll need a military budget for is some cool highly durable uniforms…who needs to spend billions of dollars on tanks or aircrafts we don’t need when you can drop five of her into a hot zone? You need to stop thinking of this as some stupid comic book hero villain situation. Our enemies out there have promised that if it takes five hundred years they would not stop until they destroy this country. We’re just making it where we’re still standing five hundred years from now to laugh in their faces when they finally realize they’ve failed miserably and need to bow down…”
“What we are doing right here,” the Director drove home with emphasis, “right now is for the good of this country. Our country…and the only way to do that, is to reclaim our spot as a true superpower of this world…by speeding up evolution and becoming the image of what we were modeled from…God Himself...”
“So my husband was butchered for what?” Sophia finally asked joining in the conversation, “Exposing your quest to turn men into gods?”
Director Rosen sighed as he turned with an emotionless look on his face to address the living goddess in the room, “Your husband was “executed” for betraying his country and his unit when he planned on leaking classified information about this division to the press.”
“You’re lying,” she smirked in disbelief, “What would…”
A wave of emotion ran through her as her legs buckled underneath her dropping her on her rear.
She slowly shook her head wanting to believe it was all a lie, but the pieces to the puzzle when formed revealed the only clear picture; the Director words only put a stamp on what she knew was the horrible truth…why Robert knew he was going to burn.
The Director walked within safe distance of her stooping down to look into her dazed teary eyes.
“Finally figured it out huh…the reason why there were only three in the room that night,” he sighed heavily, “Was because #4 was sleeping right next to you…actually his call sign was #2…but you already knew that didn’t you…deep down. I can tell you it wasn’t my idea to make him apart of this outfit…that blame belongs to his daddy for breaking protocol to get him in here…”
“The…General…” Sophia seethed with rage in between the tears that fell.
“Yes…the General. The job application requires that you are a 100 percent grade “A” murdering psychopath,” explained Rosen, “But daddy took it pretty hard that his little Marine couldn’t be all he could be anymore. So we were forced to make an exception…even had to wave off the nanite implant, which fucked up moral a bit…but after all he is the head of this division.”
“I’m just one pay grade below him,” Rosen shrugged “Your husband did have promise. The virus repaired his injuries and enhanced him quickly…you wouldn’t have known because he wore prosthetics to make him appear still injured. So while you thought, he was going to rehabilitation, hanging out with friends, or screwing someone else. He was half way around the world slaughtering whole regimes with the rest of us via our orbital jump program which would take too long to explain…the initial plan was for him to eventually divorce you…but after the job in Ramadi…”
“Oh…god no…” Sophia bent over sobbing.
“Yeah…anyway…like I said…not a job for “regular” people,” Rosen shook his head, “And as I predicted his conscience kicked in. We found out he was contacting this reporter and planning to go to the press with what happened in Ramadi and expose this operation…over sixty years worth of good work…this whole division possibly being compromised by your dry snitching husband could not be ignored…not even by his own father.”
The Director’s reveal even made Mark sway in disbelief, “No fucking way,” as he knew what Rosen was getting at.
“Yeah even I didn’t think the old man had the sack to give the order,” Rosen acted somewhat surprised, “If it’s any consolation…I wanted to get him done in the field. A random mugging gone bad…it was the old man’s idea for you to take the hit…personally I think the whole thing’s bullshit…holding you responsible for his son’s military downfall…”
Rosen rose once again to his feet, “But I’m not one for getting into family drama…”
“So…I got infected by my husband that night,” she finally asked, “That is what made me like this…”
“Close…but no doctor…we can’t take full credit for what you are,” the Director shrugged his shoulders, “You see the current virus we created…is only capable of enhanced attributes…strength, speed, endurance, healing within a couple of days. We were far from our final goal which is you…making sure we didn’t duplicate the mistakes from the past the new strain we created does not infect humans during sexual intercourse or through blood transfusion like the strain of old…we however did not foresee procreation and conception.”
“Wait…you’re saying…,”It became clear to Mark who had barely any knowledge of science.
Rosen cut him off wanting the big reveal for himself, “You’re not the first super human Ms. Dennison…your daughter is…”
He pointed at her still sitting on the ground, “The missing ingredient which we’ve tried to avoid, but obviously couldn’t get around was fresh…new…cells…, the virus just didn’t like consuming an
d replicating aged cells. We found that the younger the subject the better the replication process, and as you can image there’s only so far we can “ethically” go when it comes to test subjects. The night you and your husband did the deed, was the night the virus within your husband found what it really wanted…fresh new cells to consume and replicate from.”
“I don’t understand,” a confused Mark asked, “So how did she…”
“Our good Dr. Zimmermann’s hypothesis is some form of symbiosis occurred between her and her daughter during the nine months of pregnancy,” The Director cut Mark off again wanting to hurry this conversation along, “It probably detected stress levels within you which could have led to a miscarriage. I guess there is nothing more stressful than being on trial for the murder of your husband with a possible death sentence. Therefore, as a defense mechanism it replicated all of your cells to ensure that you were able to carry her to term.”
“It was also how we were able to figure out your daughter was still alive,” the Director informed her, “There’s no way you could be who you currently are and she not survive.”
She did not answer him as she just sat there looking at the ground.
“Very clever still how you were able to fool all of us, even the General,” Rosen wagged his finger at her in admiration, “It wasn’t because we didn’t have the technology or the information within our grasp to find out. It was because the General didn’t believe you were sneaky or smart enough to pull off something like faking your own daughter’s death. Guess the joke was on him.”
She still did not answer him.
“Currently your genetic make-up is superior to hers because of all the trials and tribulations you went through,” the Director continued, “but from the blood sample we took from her, it shows she has to potential of reaching your capabilities and far beyond you if “pushed”. The cool part for us is that through the whole ordeal you endured,” a smile formed on the Directors face, “the cells within you can and will replicate all aged cells. But to answer your question; your daughter saved your life…not your husband.”
Sophia remained silent trying to wipe her face with the sleeve of her jacket, her dreads now covering any visible expression she had on her face. Rosen now so tired of the dramatics clapped his hands together to “liven up” the atmosphere.
“Okay, now that we have done the whole James Bond tell all master plan crap…time to get down to business,” he snapped his fingers pointing at Mark, “You…we’re going to put into a little cell for now. Until I decide whether it’s best to lobotomize you or just kill you for being so damn nosey and unruly.”
He then pointed to Dennison, “And you, are going into a shiny egg like container were we have a nice little sharp pointy device capable of piercing that thick hide of yours so we can take enough samples to make more of you.”
“You’re not going to do anything to him,” she said plainly, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Excuse me…? You seem to forget we have your little girl…,” he reminded her of his trump card.
“Yeah you do…for all I know she could be dead the minute I step into that “egg,” she shrugged.
“She could be dead right now…so what’s to stop me from breaking these restraints and killing every last one of you in this room…except for him,” Sophia motioned to Mark.
Mark nodded with appreciation, “Thanks.”
“If you’re expecting me to bring her in here as proof,” Rosen pointed to her, “You out of your goddamn mind…”
“No…I know you’re too smart for that…but I also know everyone in here is terrified of what I am capable of,” she smiled, “Especially if I think I have nothing to lose…so here’s the new deal.”
“He lives,” she gestured to Mark again, “I see him walk out of here with my little girl…and you can do whatever you want with me…as you said…my genetic makeup is currently superior to hers…it’s what you need to make more of me…so you really don’t need her…”
Director Rosen narrowed his eyes pointing at her again, “You promise to play nice…?”
“Like a good little “girl”…” she said coyly.
“Fine,” he sighed, “You got a deal…”
Sophia glanced over to Armitage, their eyes locking briefly, they knew as soon as they got her in that chamber; they were going to try and kill her, and they were definitely going to kill him.
#4 brazenly walked up to her, pulling her to her feet, “Come on sweetness…time to…”
It was over in one motion; the once standing #4 fell like a slab and lay dead at Dennison’s feet with half his skull caved in along with his neck snapped. Considering the fact that Sophia’s hands where still shackled with the heavy high-powered restraints it was clear she killed #4 via a head-butt.
“Holy…fuck…” was all #1 could utter.
Sophia shrugged her shoulders with a disturbingly innocent look on her face, “Oops…”
A beyond enraged #3 pulled out her side arm walking up to Dennison to empty a set of rounds in her face.
Until the Director denied that order, “Holster your weapon #3…”
“But sir,” she screamed, “this fucking bitch…!”
“Killed #4 in front of us…yeah I saw that,” he said dryly almost bored, “Nobody told his dumb ass to get that close to her when she clearly said on live TV she wanted to kill the four of you …now holster your weapon before you send a ricochet around this place hitting me.”
#3 with teeth bared trembled as an evil sinisterly grinning Sophia looked her dead in the eye. She did not need to utter a word, as #3 knew all too well, what she was thinking…two down.
Director Rosen stepped over the body of #4 moving #3 out of the way to face Sophia, “Do that again…and I’ll have Mr. Slater over there cut your daughter’s little head off with a dull hacksaw…and have it play over this facility’s PA system for you to hear while you tear this place apart searching for her. You wouldn’t want any more blood on your hands…like your friend Dr. Hampton…or Lieutenant Scott and his entire family…”
Sophia’s eyes widen in shock as she gave off a nervous laugh, tears formed in disbelief at what her ears were hearing, “You’re…you…you didn’t…”
“Yes…I very much did…” he said with a sarcastic sadness, “Dr. Hampton knew way too much about your physiology …while Lieutenant Scott now knew way too much about the D.E.A.D than he already knew thanks to you…”
“But his wife…children…” she shuddered.
“We knew his wife knew everything, especially since she saw you ripping their door off its hinges with your bare hands,” he continued with his sardonic gloomy act, “The children were…unfortunate collateral damage…but we had to make their deaths look like an accident…and aren’t there enough orphans in this country?”
She lowered her head weeping as her body shook, her restraints cricked and creaked with its feeble attempt to keep her secure. She wanted to slaughter everyone in the room save for Armitage; saving the Director for second to last, the safety of her daughter was what kept her weak and feeble…obedient.
“I’m going to kill you…,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear her.
“Yeah….no…I don’t think so…” Rosen said dismissively.
“You forgot people know I’m here in Oregon, they’re looking for me. There’s evidence of what you did,” Mark reminded him.
“No they’re not,” laughed the Director, “You went rogue Special Agent, you disobeyed direct orders, and now you’re being hunted by local and state authorities.”
Rosen delivered his version of what could possibly happen to him, “Whether you turn up captured or dead is entirely up to us. As far as evidence goes…you have none. I told you there were higher powers behind this; and you should just let it go. You think you’d learn your lesson after your daughter Penny…”
