Volume 1: Origins.
Volume 2: First Week on the Job.
Volume 3: This Story is Pulling the Old Harvey Two Face.
Volume 4: I have a Fan Club?
Volume 5: A Vacation.
Volume 6: Guess who!
Volume 7: Drama Incarnate.
Volume 8: This Town ain't Big Enough for the... Four of us.
Volume 9: A Death in the Family.
Volume 10: Last Man Standing.
Waking up from the aftermath of an event that he cannot remember, the operative tried groggily to lift his arm. The appendage felt like it was made of shredded rags, held down by lead bricks. The man surveyed the area, the whole room was in the shape of a dome, and it was made of steel. The operative ripped off an IV which was stuck to his upper bicep. The man was lying on a steel platform that was elevated from the floor. The operative's muscles screamed in protest as he situated himself into an upright and standing position. He doubled over onto a steel grated floor the second he stood on his own two feet. He fell to his hands and knee's as he vomited up a thick concoction of saliva, food particles, and blood. After the retching session stopped, he felt much better, at least his stomach did. The rest of him felt like ground beef.
The operative pushed himself off of the steel grating and onto his feet. It was a futile effort as the man stumbled backward and slamming into the metal platform. The operative slumped slightly downward before picking himself up and off the elevated platform. A beeping noise erupted from the speakers around the room, causing the man to cover his ears for a moment. The next thing he knew, many soldiers and security guards poured into the room. They surrounded him, and his training kicked in.
One second, this man is standing in the middle of the room, the next, he is disarming a guard who was armed with an M-4 Carbine. A violent strike with the bunt of the M-4 sent the guard tumbling to the floor. The man span around, dodging bullets as he went. When he finished the spin, the point of the M-4 poked a guard's helmet before it was fired. The guard fell to the ground, his head slammed against the cold hard steel, and his helmet rolled off.
The M-4 Carbine in his hand pushed back into his shoulder as he fired round after round at the encroaching horde of guards. A thunderous yell escaped from his throat as he shot guard after guard. The operative kept firing, until finally his M-4 ran out. The weapon going click, which was the loudest sound he had ever heard in his life. His eyes widened as bullet after bullet entered into his body. His arms flailed wildly as he fell to the ground, dead.
"Interesting. His perception of battle was off the charts, he seemed to form a tactical plan in seconds, the only flaw being the amount of ammo in the gun," A man in a white lab coat stated before looking through his notes. A panicked intern stood next to him, horrified by witnessing the death of over twenty men.
"S-s-sir... can I call you sir?" The intern asked shakily. He gulped down a large mouthful of vomit and wiped the sweat from his brow. The man in the lab coat snickered and looked at the intern with a smile that could make milk curdle.
"You may call me Dr. Strange," The man said, his glasses glistening. The intern took a good look at the man. Very muscular, he had a very handsome face, the only flaw that stood out was that he was bald with a beard that only lined his jaw.
"Ah, okay Dr. Strange, are you sure subject number sixty six won't end up like Project S.T.O.N.E.?" The intern asked, regaining his shaky confidence. Dr. Strange almost stopped moving completely. The room stayed dead silent for a minute. Then a wispy laugh escaped from the throat of Dr. Strange.
"Of course not. Project S.T.O.N.E had it's flaws. Such as free will. Which gave the subject the ability to flee from the facility," Dr. Strange explained and scribbled something down in a nearby notebook.
"Dr. Strange, LexCorp's executive team specifically said not to take the subject's free will from him," The Intern explained, hm, it seems the Intern knows what he's talking about.
"Well LexCorp's executive team aren't here right now are they?" Dr. Strange replied coldly. A chill ran down the Intern's spine, thinking of the horrible things this man could commit. "Now how about you Intern? What do I call you?" Dr. Strange asked in a calming tone while looking through documents on his clipboard.
"T-Todd sir, Jason Todd," The Intern replied shakily. He seemed to be reluctant to tell such a coldhearted man his name.
"Mr. Todd, would you mind greeting our new guest? Subject fifty two, Mr. Wayne. Age 26, Height 6'3", Weight 192 pounds. Impeccable physical health, his mental capacity is off the charts. He will make a fine specimen," Dr. Strange ordered and explained. The Doctor ripped off and handed Jason a small piece of paper. On top of that, the Doctor handed Jason a clipboard with information on Mr. Wayne. A location was scrawled onto the small piece of paper in very neat hand writing. Cellblock 83, not too far from their current location. Jason thought of how he could make the conversation of how he had to be experimented on a little easier.
"Do you happen to know his first n-" Jason tried to finish his question, but was cut off by The Doctor.
Jason nodded at Dr. Strange and turned away. Jason advanced through a motion activated doorway and filed down the hallway accordingly. Jason passed guards and eventually came to a locked down zone where he simply flashed his clearance ID to the guards. They nodded at him and one of the guards to the right lifted his hand and used his pointer finger to press a blue button. The door opened and Jason shuffled along to cell number fifty two. Jason stood there for a moment, gazing at the door.
Continued from last post
How am I supposed to tell this man he is going to be a lab rat for some crook who doesn't give a damn about human life, Jason thought to himself. He took a deep breath before tapping on a combination of number keys, 5243109. The door made a fffsssshhhhh sound as the door slightly creaked open. Jason wondered if it was stuck and reached out to it, but pulled his hand away as each side of the door whooshed into it's compartment. The doorway was wide open, and Jason spotted the man on his bed, hugging his knee's and looking to the doorway straight into Jason's eyes.
Jason surveyed the man slightly, a layer of stubble covered his chin. His hair was black, but possibly from all the stress it has gained arctic white streaks in his surprisingly smooth looking hair. He was quite muscular, but lean at the same time. He was not wearing a shirt as most prisoners in this facility didn't, but he wore orange sweatpants with the string taken out as all prisoners did. His eyes were a grass green color, very lively eyes. All in all, from a woman's perspective, he was incredibly handsome.
Jason surveyed the clipboard, looking down under the section of background. Apparently Mr. Wayne's parent's were gunned down by one of my superior officers. Ra's Al Ghul, our top assassin. Although, he was ordered to do so by a Doctor under the name of Jack Nickolsen. Soon after Bruce received his families riches which were about 1.6 billion dollars to be precise. So this man was rich as all hell.
His Uncle Alfred raised him from since his parents were murdered, and according to this, Alfred was basically a saint. At the age of fifteen, Mr. Wayne took ahold of the positions of CEO and President of Wayne Industries but couldn't take the pressure, so until he became old enough to withstand that kind of responsibility, his Uncle Alfred took over the position from him. Several years later, at the age of twenty two, Bruce took his place as CEO and President of Wayne Industries. Sadly, his fame and fortune was short lived since two years later we kidnapped Mr. Wayne and have held him in this facility ever since. Poor man.
Jason pulled out a hair that was neatly tucked under his desk and turned it toward Mr. Wayne. Jason sat on the chair and looked at Mr. Wayne, he had such fear in his eyes. Jason felt sorry for him.
"Hello Bruce. I've come to tell you that your long wait is over. We're bringing you into experimentation as subject number fifty two," Jason said solitarily. He was ordered to tell the subject of his situation, nothing more, nothing less. When Jason looked above his clipboard however, he noticed Bruce's shadowed brow and his overall intimidating stature. Jason sighed.
"I don't like this job. In fact, I hate it. I have to witness people dying everyday. It gets worse as time goes on. I can at least give you some good news, this will be our final experimentation, our final draft you could say. You, Mr. Wayne, are the next generation of genetic warfare my friend," Jason explained. Mr. Todd was quite surprised at himself, he didn't expect to get attached to the subject at all.
"Don't call me that," A rough voice said with no emotion. Jason became confused, what was he talking about?
"Don't call you what?" Jason snapped. Jason did not like to be told what to do. It was not one of his strong suits to listen to someone who was equal in social status nor above him in social status.
"Friend. I am not your friend. If you were my friend you would have gotten me out of this god-forsaken place two years ago. So, how about you tell whoever is running this damn operation that he can go shove it," Bruce growled. Jason tried to reply, but something held him back, was it... fear?
"Fair enough," Jason replied solitarily before stomping out of the room and tapping on the keypad the code 5243109. Jason grumbled and continued to stomp down the hallway. Inside patient number fifty two's cell, Mr. Wayne, for the first time in two years, smirked.
"5243109," Bruce mumbled to himself.
To Be Continued...
Had to take a break from guitar to read this. Very good! Like your writing and the descriptions given. Only constructive criticism I have lies in the second post. Felt like the whole info and backstory on Bruce was given a bit too quickly. "Showing and not telling" works best for details like those. Besides that, my interests are piqued!
Also like the use of "productions" :lol: