Suicide-Run: Ghosts

Heya Folks... This little thing began to form in my head and I needed to get it down on paper. Besides, it lets me flex some of my horror muscles.

BE FORE-WARNED:

This is NOT going to be a humorous story. It will get nasty in places, and, I hope, pretty damn creepy. I will say that there will be some blood-and-guts but just to give you an idea, I'm a fan of "creeping" horror... the stuff that messes with your head and leaves you afraid to look in dark places. I hope I can pull some of that off with this story. So just know that this will be a dark tale and its bound to get darker...

So without further adieu:

Suicide-Run: Ghosts

“I… I don’t know who I am…”

Those were the first words I remember speaking upon entering the police station. In fact, those were the first words I had spoken in nearly three days.

Those days are a hazy blur of pain and darkness. I remember opening my eyes and finding myself in a back alley. A pair of homeless people were looking at me intently and gently prodding me.

“Hey Mister?” One asked in a raspy voice. “Mister you O.K.?”

“Don’t just call the man Mister… Can’t you see he’s got on some kinda armor? He’s gotta be one of the supers.”

I wanted to ask them where I was, who I was, but I fell back into the blackness of unconsciousness. I don’t know what happened or how long I slept.

I remember opening my eyes again slowly and seeing the visage of a bloodstained doctor standing over me. Something smelled foul and I could barely distinguish jerky movements out of the corner of my eye.

“Well well well… Someone has discarded a perfectly good hero.” The doctor whispered. I saw him pull out something that gleamed in the dim streetlight. It had teeth and looked painful.

Again, before I could protest I felt my mind be dragged back as I lapsed once again into darkness.

The third time I opened my eyes must have been shortly thereafter, for I found myself suddenly standing. The doctor was now face down in an ever-growing pool of blood. There were other bodies there as well, but they leaked something foul. They were long since dead and the flesh seemed to rot before my eyes.

Somehow I was not disturbed by the sight. I looked down upon my body and at my hands. I was covered in a black substance that had thick tangles of green pulsing tubes running up and down my legs and arms. Again, for some reason I was not afraid.

But oh… Oh the blood covering my hands. The blood splashing against my feet. The red ichors that stained my boots and gauntlets… Or whatever they might be. That caused me to finally pause and ask the question… What am I?

I staggered out into the street, shortly blinded by the glare of the lamps above. Pedestrians looked at me in a disconcerting manner and quickly crossed the street. I looked at my body again. Black with green… Pulsating and slowly moving. I staggered again and fell to one knee before grabbing the edge of a doorway. No one looked at me, and they did their best to avoid catching my eyes.

Why was the world cast in a haze of green? Why did I know this was wrong? I could still see colors, but this ever-present haze, while disconcerting, made the night as clear as day.

I fought to regain my legs again, leaving dark and bloody handprints upon the door and building I leaned upon. I staggered out into the night without a direction. I could read signs, and I could remember what symbols meant. I knew I was walking down a road but where? Who was I? Why could I not remember?

I caught a chance reflection of myself in a shop-window and stopped in my tracks.

Was this truly me?

My hair was a mixture of grey and white, as was my close cropped beard. My skin was a ghastly shade of grey, and not far from the shades of the long dead corpses that lay near the doctor I left far behind. My eyes shone in the reflection. Two pinpoints of green fire… the same green that flowed in the tubes of my “body.”

What was I? Why was I not afraid of what I saw?

I looked about and saw a building with a strange little floating box with read and blue lights gently drifting in front of it. I knew this was a police station. Suddenly in my vision I saw a box of green form around the little floating box and streams of information ran across my eyes. I knew… I knew this was a police drone, I knew this was something that had a security level of 50, whatever that meant. I also knew that it would help me.

I staggered forward again, and into the building. I still could not walk correctly and fell to my knees before the high wooden bench. I saw a group of men look at me in a shocked manner and several ran forward, some with weapons drawn. The blood from my hands and feet staining the floor as I reached outwards and heard my voice for the first time…

“I… I don’t know who I am…”

Project Asgard notes
Prototype 01 observations:

The unit has been released for observations in the field. Thus far the prototype suit has performed beyond expectations. It has already repaired the tissue damage from the high altitude drop-off and is apparently beginning to “re-activate” the subjects nervous system.

The drop-off took place at approximately 2am on Thursday. Unit showed signs of activity initially at 5am but shut down to repair damage from drop-off. After a 24 hour period the unit activated again and all feeds began recording.

Contact was made with a group designated “Vhazliok.” Host subject was shut-down by the suit as offensive capabilities came online. This was the test I was hoping for! The suit showed a remarkable ability to defend the host subject by generating massive amounts of superheated plasma. The damage done was staggering. In addition, the suit also generated small bladed objects akin to caltrops to slow the adversaries. This type of weapon generation is not unexpected but surprising at this early of a stage with the bonding process.

After the threats to the host subject had been eliminated, the host subject was allowed to come back “on-line” by the suit. Whether or not this defensive maneuver will be a constant is unknown at this time. However, we received confirmation that the host subject was picked well. The sight of the aftermath from the suit’s preservation of the host subject had no emotional damage upon the host. All neural reading were normal and no signs of increased stress were apparent.

Once control of the host subject was given over by the suit, the host subject initially had a hard time moving. Walking was a challenge but it was soon overcome. At 7am the host subject saw himself in a reflection. Night vision capabilities were normal but there was a disturbing green glow to his eyes. The pallor of the flesh could not be helped, and was the best that could be obtained even with prior chemical treatment.

At 7:30am the host subject encountered a police drone and the targeting system came online. All read-outs were expected and the friend-foe designation process worked normally. At this point I received a shock as the host subject entered the station and turned himself over, clearly stating that he was suffering from amnesia.

Speech and a statement of not knowing who he was clearly demonstrates that the suit began working on neural processes early on in its repairs of the host subject. It is disconcerting to see how quickly the brain has been repaired, but regions were eliminated prior to subjects release to ensure a full memory recovery does not happen. The suit can only regenerate cells, not the chemical signals that encode the memory those cells contained.

The project is ongoing and we will continue to monitor the host subject, hereby-designated prototype 01 in Project Asgard. Thus far, we have high hopes.

Dr. William Hollow

At what point in time does a nightmare fade to just another background dream? When does something that so horrified you in the past become so commonplace that if it were to stop you would miss its presence?

I don’t know. But what I do know is that for every night for the past three weeks I have had the same lingering dream that scars me to my core.

Every night I can see the same visage, and ever night the details become a bit clearer, but still it makes no more sense to me than the night before. And every time I wake in a cold sweat and fight to regain any semblance of sleep.

In my dreams I can see my body. I am wearing an army uniform, but it is shrouded in blackness and soot. I am in a war zone and everything is cast in a haze of green. Everything I see is through the lens of a scope. Every person outlined in targeting sights.

I can see the things. Mockeries of humanity marching through the streets. I can see the horror they cause as they sweep my friends and family aside like a reaper carves down reams of wheat.

I pull the trigger, but there is no trigger. I can feel the shot, but there is no gun. I can see their leader fall, but the blasts of a thousand other weapons send me to the yawning abyss that had opened beneath my body.

Did I mention wheat before? For in my dream I find myself standing in a massive field of the stuff. Waving on forever, like a bizarre sea in the calm of a storm. Off in the distance I spot a lone tree. It stands as a marker of something, and as I approach the tree, to my eyes, it grows no larger. I begin to run, and only then I realize how massive this tree must be. I can see worlds hung in its branches as some cosmic breeze wafts the glittering fruits that must be stars.

As I come nearer, I can see a woman standing by the tree. At least I thought she was a woman. Every night I get closer to her, and every night I can see her clearer. She is not human although her form is. Her flesh and body is pitch black and overlaid like plates of armor. Her hair reaches down her back and moves independent of the wind. It is a sickly swaying movement made of a mass of green tangles. Her eyes are emerald fire, and no smile graces those hard lips. And yet I long for her every time I see her.

Last night I was close enough to see her reach up to the tree and pluck a golden fruit. Was it a sun or was it an apple? Whatever it was, she held it out to me and beckoned me forward. I could see her body ached for mine just as much as I desired her.

But that dark fruit… What was once gold took on a tarnished look, and the skin, squirmed. It writhed and moved and then burst open swarming with spiders.

I awoke in a cold sweat again. And I am still no closer to understanding what it means.

I sleep at the bunkers of S.E.R.A.P.H. now. I find it deeply ironic that those who profess to be so scientific of bent still mask themselves under a name of a choir of angels. There is irony there, even if many are so called “heroes.”

My little episode with the police led me here. The men who took me in, pulled me to the back of the station and began firing question at me. One tried to take off my gloves to fingerprint me. A thousand sharp points of pain filled my hand when he began to pry, and suddenly I could feel my palms become white hot.

The officers saw the same. It soon was not hard for them to see that what they thought was a suit, was in reality something that was firmly attached to my body.

Fingerprints were out of the question. They tried to draw blood, but the suit literally flowed to block the insertion of a needle in my neck. I found with a bit of focus I could hold it off for a few scant seconds, which was enough for a quick blood draw. What the forensics men drew however was not blood, but the same sickly green fluid that flowed in the tubes in my arms and legs.

They even tried to take a cast of my teeth and then swore in frustration. My teeth had, at some point, been removed and replaced with a bone like mandible. A solid sheet that looked like sculpted teeth on a statue.

It was aggravating to say the least. They could do nothing for me. I was handed over to the men at S.E.R.A.P.H. to see what should be done.

The first few days they showed great interest in me.

Now they will not talk in my presence. It does not matter. I hear them anyway. I don’t know how I do, but I hear their hushed conversations when they pass my cell, or when I am escorted about.

I hear the whispers about how I am already dead but move. I hear the name Vahzliok bandied about. I hear whispers about my body, and how I am lacking certain bits that others find quite necessary.

And I heard that my genetics have become… something else entirely. In some sequences they have found five base pairs instead of four. I don’t know what this means, but I know that it has driven me to arms length from the men who were so willing to help me before.

Meanwhile… meanwhile, while I wait for them to finally fess up to the fact that I am some kind of anomaly, there are others who have begun to teach me. I know about Paragon now, but there was much I recalled. I knew roughly the date and time. How to read and write, and much more.

But who I was, if I had a family, if I was in the war, what this thing is that has encased me, I had no recollection. I was a stranger to even myself, and this thing that was somehow a part of me was just as much of an enigma.

I don’t blackout any more though.

I have learned how to harness the power in this “suit.” It was hard at first, and involved great pain, but soon… soon I just knew how to make it do things. Produce deadly streams of energy, produce small bladed weapons, produce devices to help me aim, and now, somehow, the suit has shown me how to bend light so that I may hide myself. It scared the doctors to death seeing me fade in and out of my room.

Others have come recently. The scientists still avoid me, the teachers keep me informed but nothing more, but the trainers… the ones that prep heroes that roam the streets of Paragon. They have taken it upon themselves to make me use my powers for “Good.”

A shaky philosophical distinction at best, but at least these men speak to me.

I have been dubbed “John Doe” for now. “John!” they shout to me. “John! You MUST have had training earlier. How did you hit that target from so far?” “John? How could you blow through that civilian target to take down the Rikti behind?” “John how did you KNOW the Nemesis soldiers would move in that pattern?”

I don’t know… I never know how I do something. I just do it.

“How John, How?”

Everyday the same questions, every day the same scared glances and avoidance by those who would help me, every day a lesson by teachers only for me to say “I know that.”

And every night the same dream… I don’t know if I am sacred by the woman, or by the spider covered fruit she bears. I don’t know what it means. But tonight… tonight if I can…

Spiders or not, I shall eat the fruit.

Project Asgard notes
Observations and information of the “Idun” prototype suit:

Before I begin, I must stress that all information on the suit is classified, so you will not be gaining any information as to its creation or overall capabilities. Rest assured ladies and gentlemen that what I shall reveal to you will go light years beyond what we currently know now as modern military technology.

The goal of project Asguard was made clear at the end of the Second World War. With the slow proliferation of Metahumans in our world it became clear that we needed a military that would be able to protect us from any threat. Be it domestic, foreign, or alien. The thought was, if you forgive me for waxing poetic, to generate the legendary warriors of Valhalla. Those men who could fight, and fight, and fight, and never die. They simply collected their bits and were made whole the next day to battle again.

We needed to conquer death. One of my colleagues on the project let this driving goal become his obsession. I think we are all familiar with the outcome of that. His madness seems to have become almost legendary,and I will profess now that he is little better than a certain fictional doctor who learned far too late that one has to be responsible for the things one creates.

And besides, how effective is a horde of zombies slower than a herd of turtles on the battlefield?

My drive however, was not to conquer death, but to become a master of life. Life already holds the keys we seek. We already know that many organisms can live almost forever simply by subtle genetic manipulations. The nematode C. elegans is a prime example of this. By throwing its body into a type of suspended animation, the worm can effectively become immortal. Its cells no longer age! Another comparison is that of many reptiles and amphibians. Those animals that can regenerate lost limbs at the drop of a hat.

Those are the keys, and those are the foundation of the suit, codenamed “Idun.” Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the suit is ALIVE. It is a symbiotic organism that protects its host as well as keeps him alive through almost any situation. It is designed to learn, evolve, and adapt to almost any situation. Just like its namesake, taken from the guardian of the apples of immortality in Norse mythology, my Idun offers immortality that even the warriors of Valhalla would envy.

Multiple weapon systems generated via biological processes, totally self-sustaining, and capable of self repair. This will be the soldier we have sought for so long ladies and gentlemen.

The host was selected from a long and intensive screening process to make sure he was a perfect fit, both physically and mentally for the suit.

And I don’t need to tell you that his identity is also classified.

The prototype 01 is performing admirably now, and is in the care of S.E.R.A.P.H. of Paragon. You have no need to fear ladies and gentlemen. He can not be traced back to us. And the training he is receiving there has benefited him. His power output keeps on increasing, as does his offensive and defensive capabilities. I am sure we will have another field test of his powers soon.

I will admit that his current neural activity leaves a bit to be desired, especially after he enters deep sleep. I have shown readings showing increased alpha sleep patterns and increased mental stress from both him, and the suit. I have yet to determine the cause, but rest assured that with my constant monitoring, we will have no problems. We do have the termination failsafe if it comes to that.

And that is classified as well…

Dr. William Hollow

“All units report in…”

I can hear the voice in my ear even without the microphone. With it, the sound becomes obnoxious, but the squad leader insists all team members should wear the headgear to stay in contact with each other.

I never said I wanted to be in a team like this, but S.E.R.A.P.H. thought it would do me some good to get out and begin using the talents they “trained” me with. “They” being the teachers and such who refused to even look at me anymore. It seems I put them off when I recited from memory three sections of the encyclopedia set they left with me to study from last night.

I am not stupid, I am not a blank slate, and I refuse to be treated as such anymore. The teachers resented this and passed me off full-time to the trainers, who resent me even more. In sessions at the training grounds, I constantly ignored orders that to my opinion were against the best interests of the mission. I often went into a room first and cleared the targets before the strike force, and soon gained the nickname “Suicide-Run.”

That’s not what Harrison calls me however. He calls me “Ghost.”

“Ghost… Damnitt get into position and get ready to snipe.”

“I AM in position.”

Harrison jumps as he hears my voice behind him. I remain cloaked most of the time now, not just to elude my enemies…

“Damnitt John… And you wonder why the rest of the squad has a problem with you.”

“You mean beyond the fact that both they and I have no clue what I am, I’ve been shot and pronounced dead on three previous missions and yet come back each time, or the fact that I look like I’m encased by the lower-half of an insect now?”

The suit had changed recently. I’m not sure why totally but it no longer appears like altered body armor and surgical implements run amok. Now it looks like I am a stand in from the 50’s version of “The Fly.” The armor is still black, red, and green but it looks like some kind of insect hide now, complete with a set of translucent green wings.

I don’t mention the other changes in the suit to Harrison however. I have not told that to anyone.

“No John, it’s your sparkling personality that’s driving people away. Stop being a jackass and lest get to work here.”

“Work” as he calls it turns out to be the clearing of a council base just on the fringes of an island chain named Striga. It’s a forlorn and dark place with many more strange things than the likes of me roaming about.

I don’t know the names of the others on the strike force. They won’t talk to me unless they have to anyway. It seems I’ve earned a reputation for being a loner. If they only knew now…

“First target sighted. Looks like a scout. Fire in the hole.”

My voice enters the com like a raspy whisper as I feel the white-hot fire build in my chest and gravitate to my arms. The small drone above my head provided by my suit suddenly makes my vision crystal clear and zooms in on my target. I can count the motes of dust on his armor as I built the shot into a compact form.

The blast caches the scout square in the chest and blows him completely off his feet. The body flies into the back wall of the cramped cavern, leaving a red smear as it slides down into a heap.

“Target Eliminated.” I state.

“Jesus H. Christ on a pogo-stick. Suicide-Run strikes again… There nothing left of this guy to even interrogate Sarge.” One of the other strike force members almost gags over the com. Harrison looks at me, or at least where he thinks I am and sighs.

“We’re not here to play nice ladies and gentlemen, we’re here to rescue hostages and shut these freaks down.”

There are muttered grumbles over the com. What Harrison does not hear is one of the troopers state “Just keep a reign on OUR freak…”

I have become used to the comments, there is little I could do to change their mind anyway.

The rest of the sweep of the caves goes with ruthless efficiency. I am able to covertly move into several positions and plant the equivalent of trip-mines right behind sets of Council members. It is a new tactic and the team is slightly horrified to see four targets suddenly get thrown into the air and almost torn apart from the blast.

“Where the hell did you get those John?” Harrison demands. I uncloak for a moment and stare hard at him. Other team members come close and watch me. Some shudder when they see my pale flesh and chitin-covered body.

“Watch.” Is all I say while dropping to one knee and pressing my palm to the ground. The suit responds, but I can feel the question in the back of my neck. I force the command and then a subtle ripple and movement takes place. Veins in the chitin on my arm bulge as something dark and viscous gets excreted from my palm. I spread it out gently into a disc and can feel it begin to sense the environment. It feels movement in the ground and air currents directly above it. I look towards the group and many more shudder again.

“You want to see how I get my targeting drone now?”

One recruit covers his mouth while Harrison looks at me. I cloak again and grunt.

“You KNOW I generate my own weaponry. Now if we are done with the stupid questions I’d like to get back to work.”

“John…” Harrison whispers. “John I’m sorry. I just…”

“Hard to treat me like another soldier when I’m a walking armory huh? Look Harrison, I appreciate you trying to make me feel comfortable when the rest of the group apparently would like to feed me to a wood-chipper. But knock it off. You and I both know that when this is over I’m going to be stuck back in my little cage in S.E.R.A.P.H. while scientists prod and poke me and still walk away muttering “Freak” under their breath. Just let it go Harrison.”

I hover up and move into the next position leaving him groping for words.

I’m not human, not anymore. I’m not sure if I was before I lost all my memories really but now I am something else entirely and the others can’t seem to handle it. Nevertheless, it’s O.K., I’m not alone anymore.

We finally get to the cell-block and already it’s a riot in progress. The strike team is facing off against at least thirty troopers, and in the back are the things called vampyrs. They look like bad knockoffs of old movie vampires. They hiss, speak with a bad accent, and have some nasty mental tricks.

I hate them with a passion and show no mercy when I attack. They hurt me in ways that nor normal person could know.

The explosions and subsequent firefight is brutal. Three of our team get downed before I can throw a few concussive waves to knock back the rushing council members. We hunker down behind a stone outcropping trying to take refuge. At least that’s what the others do.

“GHOST! Get into cover now! Ghost! Damnitt John RESPOND!”

“I’m a bit busy now Harrison.”

The caltrops seem to slow down the press of troopers for a moment while I fire and shift position again and again. In combination with my cloak it makes life hell for the troopers to find me. I already downed the vampyrs. As I said I hate them, and dealt with them first.

The troopers get wise and begin to look for the bends in the light. The higher ranking officers begin throwing grenades to hit an area instead of a single target. That’s fine, I take some damage and feel the pain but it is mere seconds before the suit begins patching me up.

I back off and watch the men struggle in the caltrops. I target the leader and focus again, pulling the white hot fire into my palms and letting my drone take my sight so I can see into his eyes behind his goggles.

He’s terrified.

I release the shot.

The terrified look in the officer’s eyes stays with me for a moment as I hear the snap from across the room. The head of the man snaps backwards and stays there. The blast snapped his spine like a twig, and he collapses to the floor in a bloody head. The blood pooled with the caltrops makes movement even worse for the remaining troopers. Only five of them…

“Five troopers left Harrison. You can mop up. I’m going to the cells.”

“JOHN!”

I turned the mic off, its not as if I could not hear him anyway.

I could hear the rest of the strike force come out and open fire on the remaining troopers. Quietly I drifted towards the cells and looked for signs of life in any of them.

It was not hard to find. The screams guided me.

“STAY BACK!” The damned vampyr held the young woman by the throat like a rag doll. She dangled in front of him and struggled for air as he used her for a human shield.

“You will stay back hero! I can feel you there! You will not take me! Approach even one step and I will snap this young one’s head off!”

I could feel the anger welling inside me. I did not know what to do.

I could hear Harrison and his men come up behind me. The vampyr repeated his demands. He wanted safe egress from here, with his hostage. Harrison looked appalled but moved back.

“Stand down… For the safety of everyone else in the cells and that young woman we have to stand down.”

The men grumbled but acknowledged one by one.

“Ghost?”

I knew what to do now. I could see it all so clearly. It was simple, this was a war, and in a war you defeat the enemy. There are no innocents or hostages, only targets and non targets. And there are ways around non-targets.

“Ghost confirm please.”

The targeting drone took over again. I zeroed in and pinpointed the place. I could feel the fire build in me, but I condensed it to a pinpoint. All of my anger, all of my rage from that day went into that little ball of energy.

“Fire in the hole.” I whispered. Harrison shouted, the men shouted, the woman screamed, the vampyr looked in shock and then screamed as well.

The blast tore through the side of the young woman’s body spraying blood and viscera about. However, the blast carried through her and into the vampyr behind without loosing any of its strength. It tore into the beast without mercy, blew him away from the woman, and exploded his chest back onto the wall behind.

“JOHN! What the hell have you done!” Harrison whirled on me as I de-cloaked and strode towards the young woman. The rest of the team were drawing their weapons and some even talking about taking me in.

Without a thought I knelt down to the woman and pressed my hands against her wound. The black armor on my arms began to flow and grip her body.

“Oh good God…” I could hear the men whisper. One of them finally vomited as Harrison watched in horror.

The suit bound, then outlined the wound on the woman. I had only hit her side and tore away fat as well as some intestines. I had missed her ribs as I intended and no other wounds were apparent. The suit began to glow gently and then pulsed with the same green material that flowed in my veins. It traced the lines of the jagged wound and then began filling them in, piece-by-piece and cell-by-cell.

It took some time, but once the woman was whole, I stood up cradling her in my arms. Wordlessly I handed her to Harrison and began to leave.

“What the hell have you done John?”

“Don’t worry, she won’t be like me. I just stimulated her own cells to divide and heal her. She will be fine physically. Emotionally I have no clue.”

I turned and looked at the team.

“Remember, whether you like it or not we are in a WAR here. Paragon fights every day against things ten times worse than this. You balk now, and we will be swept under. There is a military term I think you all should become re-acquainted with. Acceptable Loss.”

With that I faded from view again and left the base. I didn’t care if they followed, I had already severed contact. I needed time to think, and be with… Be with Idun.

“We didn’t have to heal her you know. The wound was hardly fatal.” The voice rang in my mind as the suit seemed to caress my pains away.

“You may have a point Idun… But they would never accept that.”

“Where are we going now John?”

“We need to talk Idun… We need to talk again.”

This is what comes of biting the apple. It was knowledge. It was knowing made horrible and yet still making you want more. I had eaten the spider-covered apple, and I had taken Idun into my mind. We were one now.

And I am never alone now.

Project Asgard notes
Field Report Data and Analysis

I am sure you all are most pleased by the current progress made by our test subject. Included in this message is a video file depicting the latest activities of the subject in action.

S.E.R.A.P.H. once again holds true to the level of training I would expect for a “Hero” factory, but it seems that the training our subject needed was minimal. This is attributed to the subject himself, and his position in life prior to being bonded to the Idun prototype. It also has to do with the suit itself and its ability to judge a situation and present the best options for success.

The data in particular I wish to cover is the first true field test of the subject in battle. As everyone can see, the suit has undergone alterations recently. The adaptation and outward appearance of the suit is a response to the atmosphere, as well as the harsh conditions it is constantly exposed to via the host subject. This has resulted in a more streamlined appearance as well as a hardening of the dermal and sub-dermal armor. Granted it does appear to be patterned off of the exoskeleton of common insects, but then again this type of protection would be most acceptable at this stage of development, offering mobility, defense, and flexibility.

We can also see now that the suit is able to produce something the subject refers to as his “Targeting Drone.” Simple slang I assure you, the enhanced optics array produced by the suit is much more than a simple drone. It is, in essence a bud of the suit equipped with highly sensitive sensory arrays. Most of these arrays are slanted towards the visible spectra, but preliminary analysis also notes both infrared as well as ultraviolet spectra capability. Upon closer inspection of the array, one can see that the optics are similar to the multi-faceted eyes of insects. Again this gives incredible visual accuracy as well as increased peripheral vision.

Now, as we enter the base that the target has been sent to clean, we see the plasma energy attacks as before. But notice how the subject controls the attacks to an incredible degree of precision. In this feed, where the action is slowed down, we can clearly see that with each variation of attack, from the high intensity, long distance blast, to the massive wave, and the explosive ball, subtle alterations in the suit and the hands of the host. A link has clearly formed allowing split second changes in types of attacks generated by the suit. Indeed, the alteration is almost invisible but to the targets of the attacks, greatly painful and effective.

The explosive devices provided by the suit are a subtle variation of the sensory array. Again, they are organic in nature, but equipped with a simple pressure sensory system, sensing subtle vibrations. How the suit or the host can set one without setting it off or having his team-mates detonate it is not understood at this time. The explosive however is chemical in nature and simply obtained. It is a variant of that seen in the “Exploding Beetle” but intensified by processes in the suit. The violent exothermic reaction causes the explosion and shrapnel from the chitin casing adds to the damage inflicted as seen here on these targets.

I will not go into the cloaking ability as I have discussed this at length with several of you in private communications. Suffice to say it is a simple adaptation of camouflage obtained by light bending. The versatility is impressive.

Finally, I wish to mention the cold nature of the host and stress again how perfect the subject is in a military situation. See here how he deals with this hostage situation. There is also an intense communication going on between the host and the suit at this time. The plan is formed and here, we see the brain waves highly altered showing the suit and host acting as one organism. The shot is flawless, and only causes minor damage to the hostage despite the amount of blood produced. The regenerative capabilities of the suit I have already covered and it comes as no surprise to see it can be used to repair tissue of other organisms. This was a simple stimulation to enhance the body’s natural ability to heal. However, I calculated the odds of the woman’s survival if healing was not employed and found it to be an impressive 65% chance. To have that kind of shot control is incredible, but to be able to MAKE that shot shows the fortitude of the subject and impresses the fact that this is a SOLDIER, not some “hero” who wants to save everyone. That I expect is the LAST thing any of you want.

I am suitably impressed by the progress of the subject as well as his bonding process with the suit. The neural problem I had mentioned before appeared to be the emerging stages of the suit connecting to the host. I am sure as time progresses this connection will become stronger as they merge into almost one organism.

In closing, I also want to stress that when I say that something in this project is classified I do mean it. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am sure by now you recognize whose base that was the subject summarily decimated and the brutal manner by which he did so. I also know that some of you receiving this file will be representatives of a Mr. Vandal. Please inform him that any MORE attempts in gaining access to information I have classified, as “Classified” will result in much more than a simple base being razed. I knew about his little hostage scheme, I knew about the base, and simply put I know where he is. If he truly WANTS what I can provide he will have to tow the line like everyone else and bid and be patient.

Trust me Ladies and Gentlemen, I have far worse toys I could introduce overly nosy investors to. Keep that in mind.

Dr. William Hollow

I am standing in Elysium fields of waving grain again. I can see the world tree with the fruits made of planets and galaxies hanging heavy on the bows in the distance. I can hear the wind whisper to me in many languages, but none are my own. And there, under the massive tree lay my new life, my lover, my partner, and my cage.

Idun. She calls herself Idun both in our own private little world here that we retreat to when locked up within the walls of S.E.R.A.P.H. and in the waking world when she sees fit to comment on my daily routine.

What is she? A dark goddess with hair of emerald fire? A Demoness with eyes like falling stars? Or merely like me, a lost soul with no idea of who or what she was or is.

"Hello John." The voice is barely a whisper but I can hear it like a sound of rolling thunder. I look into her gleaming eyes and smile. The expression is returned, but it is the subtle position of her legs, the swing of her hair, the extension of her arm that harkens to her intent for now.

I fall into her as surely as one would fall into a body of water. This is more than a mere physical merging of two bodies. More than the base act of making love. On our mental landscape, it still appears to be nothing more than the act of physical congress, but the feeling... Oh God how can I describe the feeling of every neuron in your brain firing in ecstasy? How can one know the feeling of every pore of your flesh screaming out for more as they pour sweat? It becomes more than an ache in the loins, but a fire in the entire body. People speak of two beings becoming one, but rarely does that truly happen.

What is happening now is the act of two beings becoming one, over and over. The separation and the re-joining becoming acts of cosmic fire. We do not stop from mere bodies giving out in exhaustion, but when our minds can take no more of the feeling, the simple feeling of being whole.

We lay entwined in each other's arms. I no longer fear now when I feel far more than just two arms or legs from Idun. I do not freeze in shock when I can feel her lips press to mine while they trace other parts of my body as well. I look at her and see only Idun. My dark Goddess and my savior, but my cage as well. She is my cage just as surely as I am hers.

After a moment of lying beneath the world tree, she arches her back and gazes at me with her eyes of falling stars. I stare back knowing mine are filled with emerald fire.

"You said we needed to talk John."

I nodded slowly, letting my hand caress her body as she moved to a sitting position.

"I need to know more Idun. More that the few spits and false starts we have discussed before."

A subtle change comes over her as she stands. Her demeanor shifts from caring lover to cold battlefield warrior. Nodding she gestures to the tree as bows and limbs begin to twist and move at her command.

"Your mind has had enough time to be healed by me, and we do have a firm neural connection now. I think we can discuss the matters that disturb you John." The tree limbs behind her seem to form something akin to a board, which soon flickers with a dull light.

"I suppose I should start with the obvious questions again." I look into her cold eyes and find no hint of irritation or boredom to be going over the same material. Idun simply nods and waves at the board.

"Who or what am I? Who or what are you? How are we bonded? How did we get here? Why don't we remember anything?"

As I ask each question, the words appear upon the board in numbered order.

"Unfortunately John, I still have no insight into questions one and two. Your brain and central nervous system were severely damaged by the time I was connected to you. I only really became aware myself in the process of repairing your neurons. Unfortunately, several small regions of your brain were not only damaged, but physically burned and destroyed. The memories within those sectors have been lost and I can do nothing more but repair the cells."

"As for myself, I have no real memories besides the point of being bonded with you and repairing your body. I know there was a before, because I have found bits and pieces of a neural system left within me that are clearly not yours."

This was new information. I sat up and looked intently at her. Idun waved off the inquisitive stare and sighed.

"I can find nothing about this previous neural connection other than it has a similar cellular structure to my own. It is much more complex and it also contains 5 base pairs of nucleotides which make up its DNA as opposed to your four."

"You have that type of genetic structure as well Idun." She nods and points to the board.

"As do you now John. In order to repair your body I had to begin to alter your cellular structure as well. I'm afraid that I may have changed you into something else entirely."

"But this remnant neural DNA, can you learn anything from it? Why is it so different from yours?"

Idun sighed and placed the helix up on the board. "It has added layers of complexity I did not anticipate. It's almost as if it was coded in a way to be encrypted. I am doing my best to analyze it, and as soon as I come to some conclusions, I will let you know. However, I theorize that these cells come from, a prior host. Something before you John."

"What? How could that be? What on Earth has five base pairs making up its DNA?"

"Nothing on Earth John. Nothing."

Letting this information sink in does nothing for my rattled nerves. If Idun comes from, well God knows where, how was she bonded to me? How did that even work when our DNA was not even compatible before?

"Is that all? Just speculation that you were some kind of..."

"I was a weapon John, armor, I suppose, for something else. The key lies in this neural DNA. Once I have it de-coded I can probably figure out what it was, roughly of course."

I nodded and sighed. Still no closer for either of us. It offered some tantalizing possibilities but no real answers. If anything, it only presented more questions.

"Something else is on your mind John." Idun looked at me and shifted demeanor again. She posed as if she were a concerned mother trying to care for a wounded child.

"It's not so much a question Idun, or a concern really. I've come to a decision for myself, and I hope you'll agree. We need to leave S.E.R.A.P.H., and soon. If the Vanguard defense system finds out about either of us, well if they hate the Rikti and question the Kheldians constantly, then God only knows what they would do to us. S.E.R.A.P.H. is a ticking time bomb and we need to leave."

Idun nodded and her smile became that much more feral and deadly. A beautiful assassin, a dark goddess, a sultry demoness, a captive tied to another. Idun...

"I have a different question then John. Just how much explosive power may I use to help our escape?"

Personal Journal
Dr. William Hollow
Secure file Alpha 1 Omega 1 Tetrad 4
Project Asguard Observations.

Day 204

How can I even begin today? Shall I start with reporting that my esteemed colleague Dr. Viktor Vahzliok has finally gone completely mad? He was cast out of the project today for his obsession with the re-animation of dead tissue. A modern Frankenstein that one. His chemical cocktails seem promising, but I do not put such stock into them. He treats living flesh like a machine that has simple on and off switches. A body is not a collection of spare parts one can harvest to make a new machine.

No, life is far more sublime than that. The answers are on a level I am afraid that poor Viktor had never even thought about. Genetics holds the keys not only to life, but life unending. How can a man reduce the act of living only to the visible parts? He may be able to take scraps and make new tissues, and even create a false semblance of life with his horrid little zombies, but I... I can take naked molecules and blend them into something NEW. I do not leave a hole where life was by scavenging parts. I create fresh and new life from the formless atoms!

I had no illusions that Viktor was not going mad, but I am pleased my superior in this little venture finally saw what I saw from day one. In doing so, I have been promoted and finally have access to the full details of the project.

Any other man would have been shocked to find what lies at the core of this project. A finding that resulted in the calling of all researchers like myself and the summary weeding out of those less suited for the task.

I was finally ushered into the black room. The room none of us were cleared to go. I must profess I had never seen anyone enter that room in all the time I was at the facility. My lone superior told me, rather frankly that now only he and I were cleared access, and if I should ever falter in that trust I would be treated as a traitor to the government and executed without delay. Nodding I held my tongue as the 3 foot thick door was slowly opened.

The chamber was empty except for a single cylinder filled with preservative liquids. There were a few areas where workstations could be set up, and even data jacks for access to the tank. However, it was clear that none of these had been used in some time.

My superior pressed his palm on a plate near the door and a dull light illuminated the tank from below. And there, I saw it, floating in the tank, promising menace unheard of.

The being appeared to be headless, an observation proved to be correct from the ancient files of data on the being. In most other aspects it resembled an arachnid, but over 8 feet long. The appendages, all eight, terminated in palms of three digits that consisted of two "fingers" and one opposable "thumb." The carapace of the creature was jet black with slight green and red markings. The most obvious of which was an hourglass in red emblazoned upon the creature's abdomen. The resemblance to a black widow spider was uncanny.

The most exciting development however was that this creature was originally found in the remains of a "Meteorite crash." From the files it was documented that on December 13th, 1989 at 2:05am an object, obviously organic in nature, was found in northern Canada. The top part of the organic chamber had been sheared off resulting in our headless friend.

The files documented every scrap of information the researchers had done up until that time. We knew the organism was female, that it bore only generic resemblance to arachnids of Earth, that its genetic code consisted of 5 base pairs, and that it was encased in a symbiotic "living" armor.

My superior dropped the last bombshell as I stared at the files in wonder. Point blank I was told that the armor was still alive and they had been keeping it so by feeding it test subjects. It would bond to a host and then literally begin to digest it. Some were able to maintain the connection to the armor for longer periods and showed some possible signs of augmentation, but in the end they were all consumed by the organism.

To quote: "Your job now Doctor Hollow, is to finish the research on this armor. Project Asguard was formed to defend Earth from any threat, and we fear that this little "visitor" may be just that. We need to know everything, and if possible, turn it to our advantage. If that armor is truly an alien weapon we need to be able to either adapt it or be able to destroy it in some way. You now have full access to the project Doctor Hollow. Don't let me down."

How I love having a photographic memory. I have kept this information secret as my work continues. My budget and my lab have increased ten fold and I have great hopes for the future. Indeed, the answer lies in the genetics and now I have the keys to a greater door than imagined. An alien genome that promises things beyond comprehension. Destruction is not an option for me now. No, adaptation I think is the key. Because by adaptation all things have evolved and grown. Life flourishes from adaptation.

And life is what is all about really.

Doctor William Hollow, Asguard Project Lead researcher.
Codename: Loki

Target acquired John, are you sure we want to do this?

“It’s either that or we don’t eat Idun.”

But stealing food from the Rikti John? Doesn’t that seem… well, risky?

“You said their genetic signature was identical to humans. We know they are almost anatomically identical, so their food must be the same. You and I can both eat and process human food, so it should be fine.”

I’m not worried about the food hurting us except perhaps that it mainly seems to be hot-dogs. I’m more worried about the patrols. These sewers are off limits to even heroes John. It’s nasty down here.

“Point taken Idun, but after our exit from S.E.R.A.P.H. we needed a place to lie low. Even if they did come looking for us here, it would be more of a pain for them than for us. Providing we stay out of the sites of the patrols of both human and Rikti we should be golden. So let’s get some food huh?”

For the past three days after our exit from S.E.R.A.P.H. we had been moving and hiding in the abandoned sewers beneath the city. It stank, it was cold, and totally infested with things called “Hydra” and the dimensional aliens named the Rikti. Above all else however, it was safe down here. S.E.R.A.P.H. was not too pleased when I requested to leave initially. In fact they flat out refused until my situation could be “dealt with.”

I may have been paranoid about the situation, but the way the scientists and researchers had been acting lately had me on edge. Even though I had performed well on the missions, even though Harrison stood up for me, none of it seemed to matter. It was at night when I overheard the phone call.

The people at S.E.R.A.P.H. often forgot that I no longer slept. I had periods of rest with Idun, but I never needed full sleep. My time in my mental hideaway with Idun may seem like hours to me, but it only took place in the mater of seconds in the real world. This night however I was not in the mental plane. I was getting a cup of coffee, after a long training session before I was to be closed up in my “room.” The only room with locks on the outside and an observation window.

I walked past the office of the lead researcher of my case before reporting to my guards for the night. That was when I heard it. Idun zeroed in on the little weasel before amplifying the sounds of the speaker on the other end of the phone.

“We don’t seem to be getting anywhere. Our tests don’t tell us anything, and all requests for outside help have either shut us down or locked us out. I would not have normally turned to you people…”

“Don’t fret doctor. You did well in contacting the Vanguard. The alien-human hybrid, you still have it caged correct? We will be there tomorrow to pick it up.”

“We had hoped to help him, to heal him…”

“He’s not human anymore doctor. We can learn more about what he is when we take him in.”

That was all I needed to hear. Idun was quaking with rage and I could feel the heat being generated by her as she encased my body. To think I, we, had trusted these people. I walked back to my cell and simply nodded to the guards. I heard the door close and bolt and then the lights went off.

I don’t need light to see. Idun made sure of that. Immediately Idun activated the cloaking device as I knelt down by the wall. I knew this room was re-enforced concrete and steel, but I also knew that the back wall connected with the sub-floor furnace room, and from there, sewer access.

I pressed my palms to the door and let Idun do the work. The mine was secured against the wall and I could feel it immediately come online. It was simple enough; hovering near the ceiling I fired a small plasma blast at the mine and let the heat wash over the room. The back wall crumbled with the majority of the blast, but the door flew off its frame before slamming into the opposite wall.

Idun quickly began addressing the burns and shrapnel as I bolted through our new exit, into the furnace room, and then down into the sewers by making an opening in the most direct way I knew how. Thank God there is not much methane down there or I could have lit up half the city.

That was it. Idun and I escaped into the tunnels and blew our way down into the lower sewers through the scattered Lost and Vahzliok members we met. They soon learned to avoid us… or at least fear the ghost with green eyes lurking in the tunnels. We found access to the sub-levels of the sewer soon after and have stayed below for a while, hoping any patrols of S.E.R.A.P.H. or Vanguard were not stupid enough to come down this far.

However, food was now an issue. The Hydra seemed to absorb food from the water, and God help them for absorbing the stuff down here. But it was the Rikti that caught Idun’s attention. We had found a corpse of one left behind from a hydra hunting party. When I pressed my hand against the body Idun took tissue samples and immediately decoded them. The Rikti she told me, were genetically human. In her opinion it was simply environment and society on their version of Earth that may have caused the different evolution. It explained why they could change homeless into the Lost, and let me know that they probably ate similar food.

Hence why Idun and I began studying their movement patterns and found they took a food shipment from the Lost every Friday. It was always lightly guarded and shipped down to the lower tunnels quickly.

Frankly, from all I learned about the war, I had no love for these creatures. I don’t know if I remember them from before I was bonded with Idun, but she often commented on my feeling of revulsion for them when I saw them. A primal hatred Idun called it.

That was the unspoken reason I was willing to steal food from them. I’d rather watch these bastards starve than see Idun and I go hungry.

It was a light patrol again for food pickup. One of the larger and armored types, a smaller grunt to haul the food, and a droid. I waited until I saw them come to the passageways that lead to the upper tunnel levels to wait for the Lost ferrying the cargo. A simple exchange later with a group of mutated looking homeless people left the Rikti with a few crates of hot-dogs and hamburger patties.

I slowly began to move in so I could hit and run, but that was when it all went to hell. The droid somehow detected Idun and I even through the cloak. Before I could respond it sounded an alarm and opened fire. The larger Rikti spun about trying to find me as I dodged the energy blast from the annoying robot.

“Time for subtlety is over Idun! LETS ROCK!”

The plasma felt good in my hands, and in two shots I had plastered the smaller Rikti onto the back wall of the sewer. The droid tried to move out of the way, but an explosive blast caught it before it flew deeper into the tunnels. The explosion ripped into the walls and sent echoes up and down the shaft. The larger Rikti finally drew a firm bead on me and drew a massive sword before advancing.

“BACK OFF!” I roared as I open fire from damn well near point blank range. The intensity of the blast sent shockwaves through my chest and I could feel the heat of the plasma as it erupted forth. The energy tore into the armored Rikti, and I could see burning flesh under the melted metal bubble and ooze before the thing hauled itself to it’s feet.

No sound. That’s one thing I hated about the Rikti. They never yelled, never screamed, and never shouted even in battle. The helmet of the being was face obscuring, so I could not even see its eyes to judge its next move.

Then that sword moved through the air like a knife though tissue paper. I swear I could hear the molecules around that blade being split at it connected with me. The edge cut into Idun and I could hear her scream in pain and in terror. The blade met my flesh, and yet, the only pain I felt was Idun’s.

It was that pain that set me off. I roared like a wounded lion and lost control. All I could feel was heat, Idun’s pain, and energy. Pure unrelenting energy that Idun normally focused rushed to my command and poured out of my every pore. It became a tidalwave and an explosion rolled into one. The Rikti was thrown and blasted into the wall as I melted the area around me and boiled the water to vapor. The caverns shook, but somehow held even after the vapors cooled. The area around me was little more than a spherical crater, and the walls melted and fused like glass.

The Rikti fell from the wall, leaving his blood splattered along its surface. The helmet of the thing was boiled away and before me lay a weak and dying form.

Idun was quiet, and for once I could barely feel her. My cloak was gone, and I felt drained. I fell to my knees and coughed a few times before spitting up a wad of the green liquid that filled my veins.

That’s when I heard the laugh.

I had never heard a Rikti speak before, and hearing one laugh was more disconcerting than one can ever know. Especially sine the damned things have no visible mouths. It was a jerking of the head and a covering of the eyes.

“You… You Zhi’Vaughn.”

I crawled forward slowly and looked at the thing. It was still laughing and pointed at my, or more specifically at Idun.

“You… Hu-Man… You in Zhi’Vaughn armor.”

“What?”

“Stupid stupid stupid… You fear us? You not know fear until Zhi’Vaughn come. You steal technology? You… You doom entire planet. If Zhi’Vaughn same here as home you all die… all die… Stupid…”

This thing coughed a few more times and then pointed at me and laughed again. It was a hollow sound, a sound of fear, and it was aimed at me.

John… What happened? I’ve never felt such pain…

As Idun slowly woke up I could feel her comforting presence re-enter my mind. I could barely operate without her now, and the idea of loosing her panicked me. The Rikti still laughed, even as I pressed my palm against his bulbous head and fired point blank into the damned thing’s skull. The vicera sprayed out and soaked the surface of the tunnels.

“The thing knew you Idun…”

What?

“It said Zhi’Vaughn… I have no clue what the hell it meant but I remember that clearly. We need answers Idun. If the Rikti know something about us we need answers.”

And we still need food… I see that whatever happened vaporized almost everything down here.

“Well… We’re gonna have to risk the surface now Idun. We need to know what the hell is going on.”

Personal Journal
Dr. William Hollow

Things are beginning to unravel. I had not anticipated a full neural connection between the subject and the host, and now look at where that has left me. The subject is now running free from the eyes of S.E.R.A.P.H. and somehow has begun to confound my monitoring procedures.

There were many issues to releasing the subject for observations in the field. First and foremost was detection by the authorities, but that has become a moot point now. I am so far separated from the sad and degraded remnants of the Asguard project that I alone know the truth about the subject. My methods have all been automated and buried under legal documents freeing me from being traced.

The second threat has always been the extent of the suit bonding to the host. Overcoming the difficulty of the genetic differences between the two was the key. All the previous subjects were indeed digested by the subject armor, but it was also slowly adapting. The secret was finding an advanced human like the test subject who’s genetics were already unstable due to inherited genetic mutations. I have no doubt if the man had not been found brain dead during the Rikti war he would have become another insufferable mutant hero.

Somehow his unstable genetics allowed his body to bond with the subject armor, and it was amazing to behold. The armor immediately began healing areas of the host while slowly encasing him. Thankfully I had cauterized certain neurons of the host subject making sure his past remains a mystery to him. However, I did not anticipate a full neural connection between the host and the armor! It seems they are able to communicate, and have been doing so for some time. And then, upon their breakout from S.E.R.A.P.H. I suddenly lost tracking feed for a moment. The armor, or Idun as the host calls it, may have found the fail-safe devices implanted inside the host subject. If this is so, the armor may purge them in order to preserve the host! I do not want to use the final termination, but I fear if I hesitate to do so I will loose control of this subject.

The third threat has always been a distant one, until now. The Rikti the subject disposed of in the tunnels spoke of something called the “Zhi’Vaughn.” It seemed genuinely terrified of the thing and said the subject had doomed the planet if the Zhi’Vaughn here were the same as those back home. Hard to be sure of what the dimensional alien was talking about without knowledge of their home dimension. I shall have to inquire about this further. Perhaps send out someone to collect Rikti soldiers and see what they know about this Zhi’Vaughn.

Adding into the third threat is something I found just last night. It is a long way off yet, but my equipment picked up a distant signal from deep space. Right now it appears to be in the adjacent galaxy, but it is a signal. No normal detection would pick it up as it sounds like so much white noise, but the remnants of the suit I retained, the parts I was sure were auditory channels, began reacting to it. When I played the recording to the tissue sample what came out was a series of rapid clicks of different intensity and speed. I don’t know what this means, but it is a pattern, and therefore likely to be a language.

Which makes me beg the question, have those that had lost one of their own finally come looking for it? I need more information, and God help me I may need to actually warn someone.

For now I must remain calm and deal with the information I have. I am safe from detection at this time. I may be loosing control of the subject, but do not wish to terminate it. Finally, I may finally have a lead to the alien’s origins, but may find out whom it belongs to sooner than I would like.

The first and third concern I can deal with, but the subject… No, destruction of him is not the answer, not after so much hard work and still so much to be learned. I shall simply have to collect him sooner than anticipated.

I shall release the hounds then and welcome the prodigal son home upon his return.

Dr. William Hollow

This is by far the best story I've read on this site!

Keep it coming Palaquinn!

-Kid Cayenne-