The metasoldiers who previously stood in abject silence, horrified at the thought of outsiders wanting to kill them because of their way of life, now were yelling—roaring with excitement! Their frenzy didn’t cool as the names of the Perficio Res—the first strike—were called. After each name, the barracks screamed in bloodthirsty pleasure, then quieted just long enough to hear the next name called. Thirteen names in all were summoned to meet in the lobby of the hospital building in precisely fifteen minutes.
From his hospital’s fourth floor, Dr. Williams pressed the yellow button on his land-line phone, ending the intercom communication with the entire campus. He watched with dead eyes as his soldiers scurried around ground level. He saw them nod respectfully to those who were heading to the hospital because they had been handpicked for this auspicious mission.
He turned around and checked the white table to be sure it looked as he wanted it to. There were thirteen syringes, each filled with one dose of the Infinite II serum. A simple .5 milligrams turned a human into a meta—just like every meta walking around his campus right now. These thirteen men and women he summoned were already treated with that first .5 milligrams. This syringe was filled with precisely .5 milligrams of the Infinite II serum. Once dosed, the soldiers’ bodies would house twice the amount of serum required to change a human to a meta.
Satisfied the room was ready, he walked out and headed toward the elevators. He didn’t want to keep his guests waiting. Besides, they had a lot of work to do in a short amount of time.
Even before the elevator reached the first floor of the hospital, the metas were standing at attention, staring straight ahead—silent, strong and keyed-up. Dr. Williams could smell their anticipation the moment he stepped into the lobby. He smiled at the raw anger, inhaled the blind trust and watched the red heat glowing off his soldiers.
“Thank you for coming, this evening, cadets,” he began.
“I know you have questions and concerns, and I appreciate your trust that I will explain everything to you in due time. For now, please, stand at ease.” He watched as the line of soldiers stepped out with their right feet and clasped their hands behind their backs in the customary relaxed position. As they did, they allowed themselves to look at the Director. To their credit, they did not gasp in horror; only their eyes widened in surprise at his horrendous change in appearance.
“I realize how I must look to you. My apologies. In my efforts to correct the current situation with the terrorist cell, this is what happened to me.” Dr. Williams removed the black fedora hat from his head so everyone could see and know.
He looked normal from the neck down. As always, he was wearing a custom, tailored three-piece suit. This particular one was black with faint pin-stripes. He wore black gloves, so the condition of his hands was not clear.
What was clear were the injuries to his skin from the neck up. His face was swollen and glistened painfully red. His eyes were bloodied and wept uncontrollably so the doctor had to dab them with his monogrammed handkerchief. His scalp was a mangy mass of bloody bald skin and tufts of white hair. Blood was seeping down his swollen neck and stained the white collar of the button down shirt he wore. He looked as though he must have been in a tremendous amount of pain, but if he were, he didn’t show it.
Casually, Dr. Williams returned the black hat to his head and said, “You can see we are dealing with a heartless enemy.” Again, he dabbed his weeping eyes. “Please don’t worry about me. I am being cared for by our excellent doctors here at this hospital.” He waved as though motioning to the physicians, but no one else was in the lobby with them.
The soldiers forced themselves to look away from the gruesome sight that was their leader. All of them, except one, that is. Noticing this, Dr. Williams walked over to the soldier. He was the last in the line and instantly recognizable to the doctor.
“Gavil Young. I did not call you here tonight,” The doctor’s voice changed from its former soft raspiness to an angry growl. Spittle flew from his bloated, red lips right into Gavil’s face.
Without flinching Gavil replied, “Sir, I want to fight, and I will go wherever you send me.”
“You want to fight? Why should I trust you again, Mr. Young? You failed me in California when you didn’t kill M57 at the Institute, and you dishonored yourself in the Retribution Match against your own little brother! You’re lucky I let you live!”
“You have let me live because you know I am of value to you. This team needs a leader, someone who can think for themselves when the need arises. They are drones, I am an individual. Let me lead this group to right the wrongs done against you—against all of us. I will not let you down, sir. You will be avenged,” Gavil’s gaze was unwavering and determined.
Inhaling deeply, Dr. Williams smelled something about this boy. He smelled intense hatred that stung the nostrils like acid. His facial expression changed at this and he smiled. “Yes, Mr. Young. I do believe you have a score to settle. Your fervor may be exactly what I need for this mission.” The doctor smiled his approval at Gavil revealing bloody gums. Gavil smiled back.