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| Genesis Project | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 17 2008, 07:24 PM (487 Views) | |
| K' | Aug 17 2008, 07:24 PM Post #1 |
PR
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My original Science Fiction Psychological Thriller. I got bored with comedy. Prologue: Origin May 18, 2009: The slightest change in a single atom can cause a country to burn. It’s a valid scientific fact. It could even be considered one of the simplest of all hypotheses. Yet this idea has not been pursued for further research. Why? Well, nobody really knows why. Except for me. The voice that had been speaking gained a face, a gaunt Caucasian male. He looked to be around his late thirties, or perhaps that was simply an effect of the severe frailty of his body. He looked as if he had endured too much for his time. My name is Dr. James Caldwell, head of research for the Rebirth Project. I am recording this message from our head of operations, Langley Base inside the United States of America. We were a scientific branch of the Black Ops military provider known as SMS. We worked under the public pretext that we were searching for a universal vaccine that would protect mankind from all diseases. Little did we know that his façade would quickly become truth, but not in a way anybody would have desired it to be. His… no I should say its codename was Origin. The search for a perfect soldier by manipulation of bodily molecules and the atoms affecting the body externally. Origin was the top of the experimental class, perfect in nearly every way physically and mentally; trained since birth to be our killing machine. But of course, nearly perfect wasn’t good enough for us. Origin had to be truly perfect in every way, with no flaws so that even considering his death was lunacy. We placed Origin in solitary confinement, stripped him of everything possible so that we could even see his soul shivering in the cold. We subjected him to every torture humanly possible, starving him of food and water, forcing him to be unable to sleep, anything you could think of. Yes, I do refer to Origin as a male at this point. Because for now, he was still human. No; I have no right to say that. At this point, only Origin really knows what true humanity is. We would give him reprieves, give him somebody to love, anything from a female lover to a small child. He would grow so incredibly emotionally attached, then we would simply kill them or remove them, causing his mental state to shatter; giving us easier access to his mental processes and behaviors. It made it that much easier to turn Origin into an empty shell of a person. Even as I tell you this story, I feel no regret. I suppose I had cast away my emotions as a human being a long time ago, along with those things I once called morals. I thought it was for the greater good of humankind. I still believe it. What a fool I am. In essence, I too am a monster like Origin. We experimented, tampered, we twisted Origin from a human to something greater, something that was above us all, we who thought we were the superiors. Every time something did not go as we had planned, we simply wiped the slate clean by twisting Origin’s body even further. The screams of pain and the pleads for the experiment to be halted were directed to deaf ears. What care had we for what a puppet felt? I remember the day exactly. It is forever burned into my psyche, even if I die I think I will never forget that incident; even as my corpse burns to ashes within the confines of Hell or wherever I am to be sent. The day was May 13; only a week before I sit here, recording this. I still do not understand how I have managed to survive for a full week. I suppose it is only on the goodwill of Origin and sheer willpower on my own part. I woke up to screams at 1:17 in the morning. There was already a pool of blood beside my bed, having seeped in from the crack underneath the doorway. I vomited vehemently. I could never stand the stench of blood. I suppose that’s why I always simply watched from the observation deck. As I opened my door, I nearly slipped on the blood that was running fresh down the corridor. I wanted to vomit, but I simply dry heaved. There was nothing left to expel. I plugged my nose and ran down the hall, careful not to trip. I saw the mangled and mutilated corpses of my fellow researchers lying on the ground everywhere. “How could this have happened?!” I had thought to myself frantically. As I reached the lab where Origin had been kept, I recoiled in terror at the sight before me. There stood our creation, completely naked and without a single hair on its body. Note, the its. Origin was no longer human at this point. I would even venture to call Origin a modern day God now. As he turned to face me, there was not a single bit of anger on its face, no shred of hatred in its eyes. It was as if it had transcended human mortality and mental processes and understood something we could never grasp. Recognition did not even flicker across its pale face, as it turned back around to face the scientist it had been in the process of killing. Was this some form of divine retribution? Was Origin the God who was wreaking this upon us, those who would have had him call us father? His entire left arm began to twist and morph, making a horrible noise in the process. When Origin was done, its left arm had become what appeared to be some form of blade, as it quickly decapitated the scientist. The head flew back and landed near my feet; I remember taking several steps backward in disgust. The Universal Rebirth Project, its true purpose was to create the perfect Supersoldier. Here it was. What had we wrought?! Origin calmly walked past me, as if I was some sort of insect that wasn’t even worth killing. I turned face and ran out of the building; only to return now to record this message. I know he is coming for me now, so I have enabled thought recognition on this device so that my dying words may be sent. Well now, he doesn’t even produce footsteps. How convien- The transmission was temporarily cut off, as a large amount of static filled the screen, outlining 4 people studiously watching the recording. Finally, the sound of the static began to die out, but no picture. Ah, it seems he wants me to suffer. Understandable. What a cruel God I have created to govern this world. Even now as I lay here in my own blood, dying of an incision to my stomach, I want to give the world hope. Maybe with this I will be able to go to Heaven. Tch, who am I kidding. My sins are too severe. Whoever discovers this recording, I have left all of my life’s research on the file, as well the location for mankind’s last glimmer of light. The Genesis Project. I hope with this, I will not be as tortured in the next life as I had been in this… The transmission ended and the disk slid out smoothly from the computer’s disk drive. One of the four figures walked over and took the disk, gingerly placing it within a case. Yet, something made the figure feel uneasy and he inserted the disk back into the computer, observing the length of the recording. The figure had been correct; they had stopped 11 seconds earlier than the total time. It may simply just be extra recorded time, but they had to know for sure. Time passed, 3 seconds, 6 seconds, 9 seconds, and then suddenly… The reason why nobody pursued that study of atoms? It’s because we did. End Prologue |
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| Linoud | Aug 17 2008, 07:37 PM Post #2 |
Knight of Seven
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Seems pretty good so far. The name Genesis Project makes me think of FF7 though. But its pretty good so far.  I like the violence.
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| PhantomZero | Aug 17 2008, 08:27 PM Post #3 |
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Swarley
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This seems very promising. Originality. 
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A NEW WORLD ORDER ~Known as PhantomZero, Mr. Noogen, Yosuke Hanamura | |
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| Dragon_Sniper | Aug 17 2008, 11:22 PM Post #4 |
mmmmmmmatt cassel
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It's awesome so far, PR. Write moar. :D |
 They like me! They really like me! (And Hakado! :D) | |
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| Masaki | Aug 17 2008, 11:25 PM Post #5 |
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Really good, maybe a little too dark, but really well written |
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| Rin | Aug 18 2008, 04:25 AM Post #6 |
TOTALLY A MAN
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... WTF PR IS THIS WHY YOU RAGE SO MUCH!? That was an incredible prologue. I'm so SO glad you broke the FEFF comedy norm. Your current plot is the kind of dark mystery I so love in sci-fi. I also love the controversy you've pooled together. It's all a philosophical, ethical, moral issue that always, ALWAYS, grips me for debate topics. Its interesting how it goes from transcriptional to narrative. Good insight into Dr Caldwell. Also, the final two lines are haunting. Chilling. Amazing. Just a couple of punctuation errors, but damn...wtf, dude? Keep breaking the trend and actually finish this please. Ugh, I'm in such a good mood now. |
 Av and Sig were definitely not made by Pendant or fez. | |
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| +Hollie | Aug 18 2008, 06:42 AM Post #7 |
Resident Brit
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tbh it's kind of a so-so beginning for a dark sci-fi thing. This has been done a bazillion times before. That's not to say it isn't good. It is. Origin is a very creepy thing and Caldwell's certainty of his death for most of the transmission is haunting. I'm looking forward to seeing where this will go from here. |
Known as Haar on Brand of Flame. Bitch.  Formerly Margaret Thatcher, Aleksandr | |
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| Tennet | Aug 18 2008, 11:44 AM Post #8 |
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yay blood! awesome PR. |
EXEW
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| K' | Aug 18 2008, 01:30 PM Post #9 |
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PR
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Chapter 1: How Very Cliché There was a low murmur running through the course of the house, punctuated by sudden sharp and biting outbursts of anger. There were no lights turned on; the only source of any illumination seemed to be coming from one room. Even there the source seemed to be flickering and dimming with each passing second. The source of light was a small computer monitor; maybe only sixteen inches wide at the most. It appeared to be in the process of shutting down, but it was doing a terrible job; progressing ever so slowly, slow enough to shed some light on the four figures that had just been viewing the last moments of Dr. James Caldwell. In the paling light, it was an impossibility to discern any sort of vivid aesthetic appearances, but at least some sort of depth could be added to these four seemingly protagonists. Two of them wore their hair in the same manner, short cut and cropped enough to be spiked fashionably. One spoke in a low monotonous tone while the other seemed to be uptight and nervous, inferred from his low, heavy breathing. One had shoulder length hair, was a towering figure; it could be estimated that he stood well over six feet tall. He had a deep, gravelly voice; appearing to be the self-proclaimed leader of the group. The last figure was not male at all, it was a girl with long flowing hair, and pristine voice that seemingly spoke reason. By body positioning, it was quite obvious the nervous male was attracted to her. Tidbits of the conversation could be heard; they spoke so softly that it was nearly impossible to pick up anything without the keenest senses. Their conversation seemed to consist of “should we go?” and the replies of either a vehement “yes, of course!” or a “no, of course not!” It seemed they were at a crossroads of sorts; to either listen to the doctor’s instructions and seek out the Genesis Project, or to completely disregard everything they had seen tonight and continue on with their lives. Eventually three of the figures threw up their hands in exasperation and stalked off into the darkness, presumably towards the door so that they could leave this place and head towards the location of the Genesis Project; somewhere deep within the Ecuadorian mountains. I never mentioned that did I? This whole story takes place within Ecuador, where four oh so clichéd friends will seek a power to help them defeat the greatest evil. Oh so very cliché… The fourth figure seemed to be grumbling to himself before sprinting towards the others. It was the nervous one, he appeared to be the only one voicing complaints against the search for the Genesis Project. His argument? “For all we know, it could just be another one of those things like Origin! Maybe even one of the previously failed projects! We could die if we go there!” Apparently this was not convincing enough to the others. And then in suit of course, being the follower he had always been, the last figure followed them. It seemed everything was going according to Caldwell’s plan. Would these four unlikely heroes be the new face of hope for humanity? How very cliché. I had really hoped he would’ve noticed. All these cliché moments should have had at least a somewhat intelligent being second guessing him or herself. It makes the whole thing less fun. Eventually, after three hours and seventeen minutes of fruitless searching, the group finally stumbled upon what looked like the entrance to a sealed cavern, the marker that Dr. Caldwell had said would be the sign that the viewer had finally reached the resting place of the Genesis Project. As the group entered, they were faced by two bars running vertically into the ground, followed by some sort of HUD projection screen afterwards. The others glanced at each other uncertainly while the leader of the group, the one with the long hair, bravely strode up to the metal detector looking apparatus and passed through. Some form of full body scan took place and information began to appear on the screen. The leader observed the information for a short time, before signaling to the others that it was okay to pass through. Two of the others passed through smoothly, and it was finally the nervous one’s turn. His body was slick with sweat, as he timidly walked into the scanner. His vision was obscured momentarily by a green light, before his information appeared on the screen as well.
After nodding his head that his was correct, Paul Delgatto joined the others, shaking visibly; wondering why they all had to be subjected to a machine like that before entering the cavern. I suppose I should detail Paul’s history and how he came to arrive here. Paul came to Ecuador on a hiking trip, hoping that the fresh air and physical activity would help clear his mind. He had met the others in his stay at a hostel, and they had all quickly grown to be good friends. Well; being the lone four survivors from a terrorist attack will do that to a group. But enough about Paul’s history. What matters now is the present, and how Paul deals with his situation at hand. For you see, a man in a lab coat had just walked out from the large shadow cast by an unusual rock formation. A man whose face had a striking resemblance to Paul’s… “My name is Lance Delgatto. And I am…” “My dad…” Paul cut off the figure. It appeared as if this scientist was Paul’s father. What another cliché moment. Father and son reunited after a long period of time to save the world. I begin to question Paul’s mental stability. Lance Delgatto described that the Genesis Project was the finalized version of the Rebirth Project that Dr. Caldwell had drawn up, but had never put into action. Instead of altering the person’s actual molecular structure, the Genesis Project would simply design a biomechanical suit to provide the same powers. Heightened mental capacity, physical prowess, and above all the ability to alter the body’s molecular makeup; these were the powers granted by the Genesis Project. These powers would be the ones that allowed these four friends to defeat Origin. Lance described the strenuous training they would have to undergo. Not only would they need to pass through basic military drill; they would have to spend a copious amount of time pushing their bodies and minds to the breaking point, to make sure that each and every one of their beings was in peak condition. A period of one week, two weeks, and then a month passed without any disturbances. Paul Delgatto grew from the nervous, jumpy young man he used to be to a powerful, confident soldier that was ready to protect mankind. Wasn’t that the original reason he had come to Ecuador in the first place? At long last, Lance Delgatto proclaimed that they were all ready to receive a Genesis Suit; the miraculous outfit that would make them mankind’s saviors. One by one, each member was called into the room where the suits were stored to be outfitted. First to be called was the girl. An hour passed then the one who looked like Paul was called in. Another hour; the leader was asked to proceed, until Paul was the only one left in the waiting room. He dozed off, he had already been waiting for three hours without having anything to satiate his boredom. Paul was a chronic snorer, and his snores could be heard throughout the entire cavern. Why? Because oddly, Paul was the only thing making any sort of noise. The acrid stench of something familiar to Paul rushed in through his dilating nostrils, shocking him awake. He sat up and gingerly rubbed his eyes to clear the blurred vision that came with an abrupt awakening. He looked at the clock and bolted up, his mind racing. He had been asleep for a whole four hours! Why hadn’t his father nor any of his teammate awoken him? Had he been abandoned, did they discard him as a useless instrument? As Paul stood, he slipped and knocked his head against the edge of the bench he had been sitting on. He got up again and rubbed the back of his head, his old and familiar doubts beginning to settle in once again. He sighed and dropped his head, only to be greeted by a vision of red. No, he was not in a rage. He was simply looking down at a pool of blood. Paul Delgatto gasped and bolted upwards, looking around to see if the blood had simply stemmed from his own bumped head. But there was no way he could have lost that much blood without noticing. The pool seemed to be originating from… the room that held the Genesis Suits. In a panic, Paul Delgatto rammed through the door shoulder first, his eyes closed for he feared the scene that awaited him. As he stood in the door frame, panting and hyperventilating, he slowly inched his eyes open, bit by bit by bit… Tears streamed down Paul Delgatto’s face as he charged his father in a fury. There before him were the mangled corpses of his friends and his father’s snow white lab coat, now stained a murderous crimson. Lance Delgatto did not even try to resist Paul as his own son jumped on top of his body, knocking them both to the ground. A guttural, animalistic roar erupted from Paul’s throat as he proceeded to beat his father’s face into a bloody pulp. Paul turned, tears mingling with his father’s blood as this mixture coursed down his face. He methodically went from body to body, ending at the girl’s body; the girl he had loved so much, who now had no discernable face. He panted as he headed towards the rack of suits, flipping through each one to find one that would fit him. He would avenge his friends if it was the last thing he would do on this mortal realm. Paul Delgatto could eventually find no suit fitted for him, and as he turned to his father to scream something, the words were caught in his throat and Paul Delgatto recoiled in horror, probably the last steps he would take. The face that he had just beaten to oblivion was now spotless. It held no trace of any sort of blows or blemishes, but that was not what scared Paul the most. There before him, was a perfectly white face, purer than even the purest albino. The… thing had no eyebrows, no hair on its head; nothing. As Paul slowly approached what should have been his father’s carcass, the eyes flew open and the mouth curved into a kindly grin. “Did you enjoy playing my game, Paul?” Back in a small, dimly lit room in Ecuador, Paul Delgatto’s head rolled. His body grew limp as blood spurted from his freshly cut neck. The body was bound to a small, comfortable looking chair, and it appeared as if Paul Delgatto had been held here for at least a week before his death. The executioner wiped the blood off its blade and walked out of the room silently, with no audible footsteps. A figure completely nude and brilliantly pale; without any trace of hair on its body. Origin walked into a separate room, pulling up the personal information on Paul Delgatto on a HUD screen.
Origin pulled up a separate file, a file that began with: “There was a low murmur running through the course of the house,” and saved it onto a floppy disk, for personal reference. He labeled the file “Journal Entry One” and waited for the process to finish. As the disk slid out of the computer Origin was using, it picked up another disk lying on the table as well. The disk was unmarked, and held only one distinguishing feature. The auto printed label on the disk was marked “May 18, 2009.” Origin silently walked out of the building and said to itself in a voice both personal and omnipotent, serene yet hateful. “I wonder who I should give father’s disk to next?” End Chapter |
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| Masaki | Aug 18 2008, 01:56 PM Post #10 |
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That is... one fucked up story. Once again, really well written, the dialouge is well done and so is the narration. The "Cliche" phrase is placed at the right places except maybe you should have ended that chapter with it. Also, you could have put more detail into the training the 4 did. This fan-fic leaves me questioning YOUR mental stability >> |
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| Tennet | Aug 18 2008, 02:03 PM Post #11 |
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lol wut uber mindfuck =D but not enough blood... MOAR BLOOD |
EXEW
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| +Hollie | Aug 18 2008, 04:43 PM Post #12 |
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Resident Brit
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Excellent. I knew something was wrong from the moment you said protagonists. There was only one problem.
I mean, there's nothing wrong with that. But it made me assume everything was being described by someone else in first person and I think it was Origin. Then you refer to Origin in 3rd person. It's kinda confusing.  Maybe you should just go through entirely in 3rd person?Still, this was really good. The cliche theme was used well. I think it could be especially good if you expanded on this to fill several chapters, but it works as it is anyway. |
Known as Haar on Brand of Flame. Bitch. Formerly Margaret Thatcher, Aleksandr | |
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| K' | Aug 18 2008, 11:37 PM Post #13 |
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PR
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My original plan was to have had this part span a course of 2 chapters, the first detailing all of the events of Paul and his friends to create a sense of familiarity and make people believe that they were the protagonists, only to add the twist int he 2nd chapter, but I decided against that. Expect next chapter tonight? Or tomorrow morning. |
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| Rin | Aug 19 2008, 02:40 AM Post #14 |
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TOTALLY A MAN
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You should have built familiarity first. That would've been even better to read. Gosh...I did not need that kind of mental screw-over today. XD Going good~ So many questions to ask, but that may be getting far too in depth, placing such humanity on fictional concoctions to answer them. |
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Av and Sig were definitely not made by Pendant or fez. | |
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| K' | Aug 19 2008, 03:34 PM Post #15 |
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PR
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Sorry if you don't like this one as much. It was a little rushed
 Chapter 2: So Who’s The Real Bad Guy? One week before the death of Paul Delgatto. One ring. Then two. It went on and on until four rings; getting repeatedly louder until an arm shot out from under the covers and grabbed the phone. A female voice could be heard murmuring something, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. “Ah, get off me ya’ fuckin’ whore.” The one who had just been shoved out of bed, most likely some sort of pick-up or a one night stand, got up, gathered up her clothes, and stormed out of the room; slamming the door behind her. The figure that had picked up the phone pressed the button to answer the call began to speak in a gruff male voice. “Andrew Johnston here.” A few moments pause, then Andrew Johnston’s free hand scrambled around to find the switch for a lamp before remembering that this hotel had the voice activated lights. A brilliant fluorescent glare filled the room as a shirtless man was revealed in depth. He appeared to be around 23 years of age, well built and endowed with a ruggedly handsome face. He had several small scars running the course of his torso, and his muscles rippled each time he made a movement. This man, he seemed ready for war. Even his smallest mannerisms seemed to be aggressive and on edge. “Well shit.” Andrew Johnston promptly hung up his cell phone and got out of bed and dressed quickly. He was geared for cold weather, even though it didn’t get as cold as it should down in Southern California where he was staying. But then again, it was winter. Flashes of standard United States Military attire could be seen as he bundled himself up, then Andrew Johnston tore out the door, tossing his keys at the desk clerk as he left the lobby; wordless recognition of “I’m done here,” taking place. Johnston approached a vehicle that was nearly entirely camouflaged in the dark of the night, a 1989 Ford Mustang convertible, an antique beauty that he had built from the ground up himself. He roared off in the general direction of Fort Macarthur, hoping he would arrive before the Captain blew a fuse. “You’re late, First Lieutenant Johnston.” Andrew Johnston stood tall and firm, in the position of a military salute to address his superior officer and Captain, Brian Romnell. He was given the “at ease” command, and it was now visible that Andrew Johnston was out of breath. Perhaps he had failed to find a parking spot and had resorted to sprinting over to the fort? Captain Romnell beckoned to one of his subordinates who handed Johnston a plain manila folder, filled with only three sheets of paper. There was not even any red stamp on the front dictating it to be Top Secret information. Andrew Johnston was puzzled. Hadn’t he been told over the phone that this mission concerned the welfare of the entire world? He opened the folder and looked through the contents. The first piece of paper was the personal profile of one Alexander F. Kim, a Private in the army. He seemed to specialize in the technical side of things. The second paper was the profile of one Paul Delgatto, a criminal and repeat offender who had been relocated to Ecuador. The last paper… “What the fuck is the meaning of this Brian?” The third paper consisted of a mugshot of a brilliantly pale man without a speck of hair on his face. The paper was also headed, “Rebirth Project.” This paper outlined the known abilities and temperaments of the creature known as Origin, the target for Andrew Johnston’s mission. Andrew looked up angrily, demanding an answer from his superior officer. After all, Andrew Johnston knew best that this monster wasn’t something that could be dealt with using simply one soldier. After all, Andrew Johnston was head of security for the Rebirth Project. Not only that, he was the lone survivor of his platoon that had been stationed at Langley Base. “You are familiar with what the Rebirth Project detailed, am I correct Lieutenant?” “They wanted to make some sort of Supersoldier by manipulating atoms and molecules and shit. That’s about all I know. I ain’t the scientific type.” Andrew Johnston appeared to the rough, unpolished type. His crude manner of speech and his what seemed to be pride in his lackluster knowledge of the sciences proved it to be so. “Which is exactly why we’re pairing you with Private Kim.” Andrew snorted in exasperation. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? You really think just two people, and one of those two people being a nerd can handle this job?” Another piece of paper was handed to Andrew, and he scoured its contents, beads of sweat running down his face. When it appeared he was done, he looked up in amazement at Romnell. “What you’re reading are not lies Lieutenant. We have in fact triangulated the position of a recording that contained the same vocal frequencies as the late Dr. Caldwell.” Andrew Johnston turned about haste and strode out the door. His hands were shaking in fear of having to possibly face that monster once again, but his face hid it well. “Just tell that damn rookie to bring as much firepower as he can.” Time passed, and eventually both Andrew Johnston and Alexander Kim landed in Ecuador. Idle chit-chat wasn’t going to help them here, so Andrew Johnston didn’t even bother with familiarizing himself with the tall, lanky Korean-American recruit. They walked around the town for a bit, asking for information on a white male that should have arrived only a day or two ago. They eventually were able to track down the hostel that Paul Delgatto had stayed at. “I’m looking for this man.” Andrew Johnston held up a picture of Paul Delgatto, and the owner of the hostel replied in broken English that Delgatto had left the hostel one night without taking any of his belongings, and had never came back. That was all the information the owner could provide, thus Andrew thanked him and moved on; Alexander Kim in tow. The rest of the week passed smoothly, without any hiccups; but both Johnston and Kim were unable to locate the whereabouts of Paul Delgatto. It had already been a week, perhaps they were too late. Maybe Delgatto had already fled the country after watching the recording, in fear of what might happen to him. “You are looking for the crazy white man, no?” Johnston whipped around to come face to face with an old street beggar, who insisted on being paid one American dollar before coughing up the information he had. According to the beggar, a Caucasian male had passed through the area, before taking residence in an abandoned building. The locals were too afraid to approach him, for they thought he had been possessed by demons. He was always talking aloud as if he had three other friends beside him, and he carried an entire computer with him for some odd reason, dragging parts of it in the dirt behind him. “Demons my ass. Origin ain’t no fucking demon. It’s a damned God.” Johnston and Kim eventually tracked down the building in which Delgatto was have rumored to have stayed in. Sure enough, there was the computer that Delgatto had been described carrying around, and there were four plates set out; but the food had only been eaten on one of them. “Jesus Christ, just what can this Origin thing do to people?” Johnston was amused. Those were the first words the rookie had really spoken. It appeared that even at this point, Private Kim hadn’t grasped the gravity of the situation at hand. But what he did grasp, the computer’s mouse; and began typing away. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing kid?” Johnston lit up a cigarette and watched amusedly as line after line of computer code filtered down across the screen as Kim worked strenuously, typing at lightning speeds to achieve his ends. Suddenly, Dr. Caldwell’s transmission popped up on the screen as Kim smiled warily at Johnston and wiped his brow. There, stored in the computer’s archives, was a copy of the transmission that Delgatto had watched. “Well I’ll be damned…” Andrew Johnston and Alexander Kim watched in muted fascination as Dr. Caldwell went through his entire log once again, before meeting his grizzly end by Origin. Johnston’s hands were visibly shaking again, but this time his weren’t the only ones. Alexander Kim’s teeth were chattering in fear, fear of the monster that his own military had created. They copied the file onto a disk, and stepped outside; taking in the fresh air like it would be their last breaths. They inquired with the locals where Paul Delgatto had headed afterwards, and were puzzled to discover that he had walked towards the Ecuadorian mountain ranges. But on the disk, Caldwell had clearly stated that the Genesis Project was hidden in Nepal. “It was too late for the sucker. Origin had already gotten into his head.” Andrew Johnston shuddered, remembering that he too could already be a victim of Origin’s unearthly powers. What a terrible ability, the power to manipulate and shape the atoms within its own body and the bodies of others. Johnston and Kim headed towards the mountains, asking the frequent hikers along the path if they had seen which way the crazed white man had taken to. After long hours of searching, they discovered that they had doubled back; it appeared as if Paul Delgatto in his insanity had returned back to town. But this didn’t make any sense. The residents had no recollection of Delgatto ever returning to the city, or even passing through. That is; unless Origin had already had his way here, and had altered the memories of every person living in the area. What a terrible fiend! Then a thought arose to not Johnston, but Kim. “I noticed in that house where Delgatto stayed, there was a breeze coming from below my feet. Perhaps a trapdoor?” They trudged back to the house, even on Johnston’s insistence that Kim had been hallucinating due to his extreme fear. But once they arrived… “Well I’ll be damned.” Alexander Kim lifted a trapdoor hidden underneath countless layers of dirt, and the duo descended into the pits of hell, unsure of what could possibly await them in that place. What would they find? Could the monster known as Origin possibly be lurking in this place, awaiting their arrival so that it could finish them off personally? Both partners audibly took a sharp breath, holding it; as if afraid of the very evil that permeated the air of this place. Johnston vomited. Kim vomited. There before them was the headless, half eaten away corpse of Paul Delgatto, still bound to a chair. The rats that had been feasting on his body scampered away as Johnston approached the body, one hand over his mouth and nose as to keep away the foul stench. Even in all his days as a hardened soldier, Johnston still couldn’t stand the sight of a man killed by Origin. Kim moved into a separate room, noticing a computer stationed behind a sheet of plexiglass. This room was probably meant to serve as Origin’s observatory room during the period of Paul Delgatto’s mental torture. Kim booted up the computer and pulled up the most recent files accessed, shuddering at Origin’s journal log. Here Kim had hoped that Origin was just some unthinking, savage creature that lived to kill. Now he realized that Origin was something beyond them all. Another file caught Kim’s eye, it was titled “Those to be judged.” He pulled it up, and scrolled through the document. His breathing grew heavy and labored as he continued to read, as he continued to realize what was going on. A gun cocked. Johnston turned around slowly to come face to face with a quivering Alexander Kim holding a pistol. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, private?” “This man… was a criminal. Origin is killing criminals, that’s all he’s doing! How can he be the bad guy?!” Johnston’s face turned to stone. His voice became a low growl as he slowly approached Kim, hands balled into fists. Was it Kim that had been put under Origin’s manipulation? Johnston couldn’t think straight anymore, anything could have happened! No, he had read that Origin had to be touching you to manipulate your molecules. And there was no way Origin had come in contact with either of them during this stay. Unless… ”He can fucking change his appearance. Oh God, he can fucking change his appearance.” Johnston completely disregarded Kim and his gun as he pulled out his radio, frantically calling Fort Macarthur, praying to God it wasn’t what he had thought of. “Come in Captain! Captain, answer me! God fucking damnit Romnell, answer your radio!” All that responded to Johnston’s frantic cries was a voice both personal and omnipotent, serene yet hateful. “I’m sorry, Captain Romnell has been disposed of. Is there something that you would’ve liked to have told him? End Chapter |
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12:55 PM Nov 23
