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04-29-2017, 12:28 PM | #1 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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I've reached a bit of writer's block on my Corps! story, so I thought I might work on one of my other ideas for a bit until I can figure out how to continue the other story. I know that this story incorporates some of the more unpopular elements of Joe lore, but I'm going to do my best to do them some justice here. (Besides, my other idea was a Hector Ramirez mystery)
PROLOGUE The road from Gesh-Kur, south of Pteion, Stygia, the Hyborian Age This is a begining, not an end. Gol-Lobulas assured himself. His mood had not lightened, these last two days on the rut in the earth that was the road south from Gesh-Kur. Once it been the main road between Pteion and Suhkmet, now it was hardly worth being called so, its fortune tied to the fading glory that had been Stygia. The temple to Set in Gesh-Kur, built in the shadow of the cursed city of Pteion, now lay in ash. Its' priests and warriors massacred, its riches stolen, and all of Gol-Lobulas' work destroyed by the fury of a barbarian pirate from the North. Time and again, we have underestimated the race of Men, the Sorcerer-priest thought. Such had it been in Valusia, where he had been born of a heretical mingling of the blood of Man and Serpent Man. Such had it been in Lemuria, both land and the Serpent Crown now lost beneath the waves. Perhaps the time of the Serpent Men was at an end and this world, the rightful dominion of Set, would pass forever to the mongrel race of Man. Gol-Lobulas' mind turned as the wheels of the caravan in which he rode. If only a man such as this Northman could be yoked to the will of the Serpent God. The thought that followed came upon him so suddenly that it could only be inspiration. The sorcerer-priest touched his fingers to his forehead in obeisance. His purpose was now clear. The caravan will turn to the east and cross the Styx. Across the great desert and the steppe to the spine of the world. Deep in those mountains lay the hidden sanctuary of Koh Buru Lah. There Gol-Lobulas would wait. Wait and search for the one who will finally return the world to reign of Set. And if such a man cannot be found, perhaps he can be made... CHAPTER ONE: The Iron Gardener "I say, bring back the Circus Maximus For starters Unless these weeds are dealt with They'll poison everything They are poisoning everything We need a gardener A brutal gardener A thorough, thoughtful gardener An iron gardener" -Boyd Rice, "People" May 15, 1974, South Ataria Island, the Pacific Ocean Dr. Archibald Monev poured himself a cup of coffee. The dreams had come again, and with them the command to continue his work. He normally drank tea, but the dreams had given him a fitful night of sleep, and the the island base's commissary didn't stock it in any case. He scowled at the black and gold serpent head sigil emblazoned on the side of his mug. I have to bow and scrape for every penny to continue my work, but we have money to brand our dishes... Bowing and scraping would be his task today. He needed to convince the council to increase his funding, both for his main project, the brainwave scanner, and for his other project. The work brainwave scanner was progressing well, but the other project had been a hard sell to the council, and he'd had to fight for every bit of bit of funding and resources he'd gotten, so much more difficult that he couldn't reveal the true nature of his work. He'd taken his coffee and a piece of buttered toast and headed off to the council chamber. Hopefully most of those fools would be gone today, and he'd only have to deal with the actual decision makers. The council chamber's design had been lifted from a high school auditorium, Monev was certain. A half circle of steep theatre seating was bisected by an entry way. The area that would have been the orchestra pit held several long tables where the council itself sat, and all of this before a low stage backed by screens and display monitors. He entered the chamber from the side entrance directly onto the stage. He was pleasantly surprised to find only three people there. "Ah, Doctor Venom, we were beginning to wonder if you'd stood us up!" General Zadar called. Monev grimaced inwardly. The General, pompous, blustering fool that he was, insisted on these tedious code names, and had gifted him with this terribly un-clever play on his surname. Next to Zadar, in an dark blue uniform of identical cut but slightly less garish ornamentation, sat his Aide de Camp, Colonel Varna. A rather handsome woman with her bob of jet black hair, Monev thought, and possessed of a stern and ruthless competence that should have made her Zadar's superior. She met the Doctor's gaze and nodded politely. The room's third occupant had come as a surprise to Monev. Sitting at the furthest table, clad in tweed and looking every inch the Princeton professor he once was, was the only other man on the island that the Doctor actually respected, Dr. Morris Hix. He was the architect of the philosophy that lay underneath everything Monev had dedicated his life to. Hix was the father of COBRA and his works, "The Iron Gardener" first among them, were its bible. Monev knew that he was still on the island but he couldn't remember the last time he had seen the man in the council chamber, or anywhere else on the island, for that matter. The tall man didn't immediately move to acknowledge the the Doctor, but he did close his battered copy of "Ride the Tiger" and tuck his spectacles into his jacket's inside pocket. Only then did he look towards him, stroking his neat salt and pepper beard as he did so. "Doctor Venom, we're here to discuss your recent funding request." Zadar began. "It has been decided to fund your project immediately and in full, including your little archaeological jaunts." The Doctor opened his mouth ready to voice his objection before he could fully process what he had heard. The General chuckled. "I think we've surprised the good doctor!", he said to Varna and Hix. "It's true," Zadar continued "that when you first proposed the idea of genetically engineered super soldiers, I found it unnecessary and wasteful. We have hundreds of men on this island, ready to die at my command. However, Professor Hix was able to persuade me otherwise." Morris Hix stood now. He was tall, perhaps six foot three, and clearly well built even for a man in his mid fifties. "Dr. Venom.. I salute you. An army of perfect soldiers, crafted from the stuff of history's great men, able to carry out their orders free from sentimentality, or remorse, or false morality....This notion of yours couldn't be more perfectly attuned to our ultimate goal. Humanity needs our guidance, and sometimes our harsh correction, if we are to excise the rot that has set in to Man's soul. We are the surgeons, and your soldiers shall be our scalpel. We shall proceed with your project at once.", he said, his deep and sonorous voice trained by years of classroom lecture. It was now Varna's turn to speak, apparently. "As you know, we are just a few weeks away from beginning the operational phase of the anti-satellite missile project. Therefor we are moving your work stateside. We have a safe facility available that should meet your requirements. It will also be easier for you to acquire the materials you need, and not needing to arrange for export will lessen our risk of exposure" Dr. Venom beamed. Total funding! And that fool Zadar doesn't realise he's just ensured his own obsolescence Perhaps, now that his project was going to proceed, the dreams would stop. July 2, 1974, ARBCO Dry Cleaning, Springfield, Indiana I hate this place, Dr. Monev thought to himself. Even getting to Springfield had been difficult, as the state of Indiana apparently held three cities by that name. His Springfield was a run down mill town in Madison county, set on the White river. What industry the town had once held was gone now, leaving the town to wither. Over half the storefronts on Main Street were empty, this dry cleaning shop was the only business left on this block. Despair permeated the air here, and even the Doctor wasn't immune from its effects. Monev had furthermore not been prepared for the realities of having to operate a functioning cover business in addition in addition to his project. Between the two he was working almost 18 hours a day even with the two assistants he had been given. Everything had been delayed, funding, materials, even the arrival of his help. The absurd, sprawling distances between everything in America and lack of public transit had forced him to get an American driver's license and purchase an automobile, the first he had ever needed to own. He had been lucky with the help at least, where he had expected to get a few barely qualified lab assistants, one of them had turned out to be a real scientist, a balding, moustachioed East German defector who had even come with his own code name: Dr. Brain-Wave. The economic reality however, was that since one could not realistically live on the wages of a part time dry cleaner, his cover demanded that Dr. Brain-Wave was at his second job, working as a dental hygienist. This left Dr. Archibald Monev, Doctor of neuroscience and genetics, to tend the counter of ARBCO cleaners by himself this afternoon. Monev passed passed Mrs. Murphy's husband's shirts over the counter to her, deposited her $1.50 into the till and wrote out her receipt. "Thank you, Mrs. Murphy", he said, lacing his received pronunciation with saccharine charm, "Until next week, then." Mrs. Murphy, for her part, had a thing for accents, and the older woman almost blushed as she said "You betcha, honey" Two men entered the store as Mrs. Murphy departed. Both tall and appearing to be in their early thirties, one wore mirrored aviator style sunglasses and a moustache, the other had a dead eye surrounded by what looked to be a very fresh and very extensive scar. Sunglasses spoke. "We need to talk." He reached into the pocket of his safari style jacket and produced a worn paperback edition of Morris Hix's "The Iron Gardener". A coiled cobra was embossed in red on the book's black cover. Monev snatched the book from the man and covered it with a nearby shirt. "Who are you?! Why are you contacting me this way?" He asked, glancing around for anyone that may have observed the exchange through the shop's windows. "Like I said, we need to talk." The man said. "It's gone, its all gone." The Doctor came around the counter, twisted the doors deadbolt closed, and hung the "Out to Lunch" sign. A short while later, Sunglasses had finished his tale "I'm not sure I believe any of this." The Doctor said. "Believe it, Doctor. The entire island is destroyed. We barely escaped with our lives." One-eye said, the first words he had uttered since coming through the door. "So, Zadar, Varna, Hix, all dead?" Monev asked. His stomach dropped. Zadar was an idiot, but a useful one. Hix however.. his words were the driving force in his life. "No, Dr. Hix wasn't on the island. I don't know where he is. We'll find him, though." Sunglasses replied. "As for now, Doctor, I'm the Cobra Commander."
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04-29-2017, 01:53 PM | #2 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: baldwinsville new york
Posts: 1,781
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Anytime a DARK Haired sullen eyed, sword in hand individual who would wear the jewel crown and crush the kingdoms beneath his sandaled feet is mentioned...I'm in...show me more kind sir....
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04-29-2017, 04:00 PM | #3 |
W.O.R.M.S. Commander
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Back in the US of A! (NoVA)
Posts: 10,649
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Hooked. This is going to be good.
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Improvise, Adapt, and Overcome. |
04-29-2017, 05:13 PM | #4 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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CHAPTER TWO
April 16, 1980, Springfield, Indiana Dr. Venom seldom switched on his television, but tonight was a special occasion. He turned his dial to channel 3, the local ABC affiliate, and sat down in his easy chair. The light and sound of the set filled his darkened living room. "And in New York, Frank Reynolds." "Good evening. Our top stories tonight: the continuing Iran hostage crisis, and the Moscow Olympic Games. Later our own Hector Ramirez reports on one Midwestern town that has turned their economic fortunes around in a spectacular way..." Monev sat through the lead stories with dwindling patience until the moustached face of Hector Ramirez appeared on screen. "Tonight: Miracle in the Rust Belt, how the tiny town of Springfield, Indiana turned economic disaster into industrial prosperity..." He chuckled a few times during the story. If Ramirez only knew that for every transmission the local factory turned out on contract for Chrysler they also made two cannons or other weapons system that would be sold in conflict zones on the other side of the globe. What would the reporter say if he knew that everybody he interview, from the mayor and the selectmen down to the waitress at the diner were loyal to COBRA? For this he would give credit to the Commander. In the six years since he had shown up at Monev's dry cleaners shop with little more than a copy of Hix's "Iron Gardener" in hand, Cobra Commander had taken an organisation with 6 surviving members and a smattering of cached weapons and transformed it into a global organisation. The Commander had started small, bank robberies and pyramid schemes, and used that money, along with his sheer will, to turn the dying industrial town into a manufacturing success at a time when factories were closing daily all across the Midwest. The prosperity had benefited Dr. Venom as well. His projects, a legacy from the old COBRA organisation that most of the current members didn't know had ever existed, were nearly finished. The prototype of the brainwave scanner was complete, and the serpent soldier project was but one element short of moving on to the next stage... April 21st, Babylon archaeological site, Iraq Dr. Bruno Binder, known better to his colleagues as Dr. Brain-Wave, peered down into the down into the darkened hole. "Scrap-Iron, have one of these wretches fetch the lights!" He called. "This might be it!" The man removed his cap and wiped sweat from his forehead, his one good eye looking past Dr. Brain-Wave's shiny, bald, dome and into the gaping blackness of the newly opened chamber. "Sure thing, Dr. Brainiac. Faisal, you heard him! Get your men moving!" Not for the first time the Doctor wished he had had better English when he had joined COBRA years before. He had come to the organisation straight from Leipzig University, leaving his girlfriend Angela behind and making the dangerous crossing into the west. "Geistesblitz" had sounded like a better moniker in german than its English equivalent. COBRA had given the Iraqi government a shipment of weapons in exchange for permission to dig at the Babylon site and the labor of a platoon of Iraqi combat engineers, the brewing war with Iran having made the Iraqi president Hussein far more interested in weapons than archaeological spoils. Brain-Wave moved aside to allow the Iraqi soldiers to set up the portable floodlights. They made poor engineers, in his estimation, but had proven adequate for the pick-and-shovel work that this project had demanded. The hum of the portable generator on the surface filtered down the passageway, and soon the flood lights bathed the chamber in the first light to fall upon it in millennia. The Doctor gasped as he saw the frescoes that lined the walls of chamber. They showed soldiers with long spears locked shields, others on horseback, and even some engaged in combat with elephants. The style was definitely Greek in origin, and the military gear depicted was of the correct period. His eyes fell on a massive sarcophagus in the centre of the chamber. Picked out in coloured tile on its side it read "Αλεξανδρος", Alexandros. "We've found it!" He cried!
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04-29-2017, 07:19 PM | #5 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: baldwinsville new york
Posts: 1,781
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Nice..very nice
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04-29-2017, 08:02 PM | #6 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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CHAPTER THREE
December 11, 1980, Beneath ARBCO Dry Cleaners, Springfield, Indiana In the center of Dr. Venom's laboratory, nestled in the midst of a forest of cables and wires, sat two huge glass vessels. Both were filled with a thick, yellowish fluid, and in each, connected to a tangle of tubes and electrodes, floated the form of a small boy. A cacophonous chorus of monitors beeped and chirped. "I understand your project in theory, Venom, but you'll have to explain exactly what it is that I am looking at here." Cobra Commander said from beneath the hood that covered his head. His eyes alone were visible, and they seemed to bore right in to Venom's soul. The Doctor did his best to simplify his answer for the Commander. The Commander was a brilliant planner, tactician, and motivator of men, but his mind was not a scientific one. "These vessels act as the artificial womb for our soldier clones, Commander. They will grow here until they reach maturity, a process of several months." The Commander moved closer to the glass, peering into each vessel. The children, if you could call them such, each appeared to be about five years old, with thick, black hair that flowed from underneath the crown- like apparatus that encircled each of their heads. The monitor on the right most vessel showed two flat lines amidst the other active ones. "What's wrong with this one?" Cobra Commander asked, gesturing to the monitor. "Brain activity on that one failed to start when we initiated the cloning process, I'm afraid. It is, however, progressing normally in its physical development. I'm studying it as a control for the other. There is still much to learn." The Commander folded his hands behind him and rocked back on heels, taking in the sight of it. "What's stopping these things from being drooling vegetables when you take them out? Are we going to have babies with the bodies of twenty year olds?" This time it was Dr. Brain-Wave who spoke up. "The metal halo on each is an adaptation of our brainwave scanner, Commander. Instead of pulling the thoughts and memories out of their minds, we are planting our own. Strategy, tactics, military history, languages, and of course, a fierce loyalty to COBRA. You'll also notice the electrodes running to each of the major muscle groups. Those work, in combination with a cocktail of steroids we administer via the clone's nutrient feed, to encourage normal muscle development, though some physical conditioning will still be necessary after we decant them." "We expect it to be ready by early March." Dr. Venom added. "Good, because I am sending you to oversee things in Sierra Gordo, Venom." "But Commander! At this critical stage..." "You just said all that was left was to wait for it to finish cooking, Archie. Surely Brain-Wave here is capable of watching a pot." "Yes, Commander!" Dr. Brain-Wave near shouted. Venom stared daggers at him. "Relax, Archie," the Commander said. "You'll be home in plenty of time for his birthday." December 14, 1980, Springfield, Indiana Dr. Brain-Wave stood naked on a mountain. He was on or near the peak he surmised, and could see a vast range of snow covered mountains stretching before him. He could feel the wind buffeting him and the snow between his toes, but he wasn't cold. Brain-Wave was suddenly aware of a hand on his right shoulder. A feminine voice spoke into his left ear. "You will be the father, Bruno." He turned the face the voice and was met by the face of a woman. A lovely face, but strange. She was bald, save for a pony-tail like fountain of hair that fell behind her. Only her head and hands were visible among a voluminous cloak so totally black it seemed to suck the light from the air around it. "The father?" He stammered in confusion. The woman smiled. It was not a joyful expression. He was suddenly acutely aware of her eyes. Her golden irises were wreathed in purple and had the slit like pupils of a reptile. "The father of the future of man. As Set was father to the Serpent, so shall you be to the New Man." Her voice was a hissing whisper, at once both seductive and terrible. "I don't understand." He said. "The project, Bruno. The project must not fail." From the bottom of her blacker-than-black cloak dozens of snakes swarmed. The wrapped themselves around Bruno's ankles and began to slither up his legs. Dr. Brain-Wave's own screaming woke him up.
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04-29-2017, 09:23 PM | #7 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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CHAPTER FOUR
March 10, 1981, Ft Wadsworth, Staten Island, NY BLAM! BLAM! The Luger recoiled in Dr. Venom's hand as he fired twice, point blank, into his opponent's back. The damned Eskimo lout, who had dogged Venom's every step for thousands of miles across two continents, now lay crumpled on the pavement in front of him. Venom stooped down and rolled the man onto his back. He screamed into his face, both as a release of the months of hatred he had built up for this man, and simply to be heard over the din of the battle that raged around them. "What?! No clever aphorism about weasel spirits, Kwinn?! No lunge to strangle me with your last breath?! I had come to expect more from you, you miserable bastard!" The Inuit mercenary's coarse features had taken on a look of almost beatific calm. He smiled as his ruined lungs caused blood to stream from one nostril. The man's voice gurgled from his throat. "No, Venom. There is no anger left in me." A wet cough interrupted him. "I've made peace with the Weasel. Kwinn will not harm you while he lives. That I promise." Venom looked down at his foe. How strange for this man to feel such calm in his last moments. He'd rather thought Kwinn to be the type to go down swinging. A last weak smile crossed Kwinn's face as his eyes closed forever. Kwinn's hand, which Venom had believed to be clutching at his chest, slid to the ground, palm opening as it did so. Venom watched in seeming slow motion as a hand grenade rolled from the dead hand. The ping! of the grenade's spoon releasing snapped Dr. Venom's brain back into reality, but by then it was too late. March 10, 1981, beneath ARBCO Dry Cleaning, Springfield, Indiana As one life slipped away hundreds of miles away, another took its first breath here. And for the first time in a very long time, something new walked this earth.
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Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 04-29-2017 at 10:32 PM.. |
05-04-2017, 11:42 PM | #8 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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CHAPTER FIVE
March 10, 1981, beneath ARBCO Dry Cleaning, Springfield, Indiana The decanting process had been successful, and the naked form of the soldier clone lay stretched out on an operating table. Dr. Brain-Wave checked the clone's vitals again. Pulse, neural activity... everything was reading as optimal. The Doctor took a last moment to look over the being that lay before him. Physically it was a perfect specimen, just over six foot five, and long limbed with an impressive build. The man.. he supposed it was a man, after all, had a handsome face, framed by thick black hair and with a distinct Roman nose. But what sort of mind would he have? Brain-Wave motioned to his assistants, two trained medical doctors who began the process of removing the artificial umbilicus from the clone's navel. The Doctor stood by with defibrillator paddles, waiting to administer the jolt that would, he hoped, jolt the man into breathing on his own. The assistants detached the last of the umbilicus and Brain-Wave touched the paddles to the man's chest. It was all he could do to stop himself from yelling "Give my creature life!". "Clear!" Brain-Wave shouted as a thousand volts surged through the clone's body. The clone convulsed and spasmed under the paddles, and then fell still. "Clear!!" The Doctor yelled as he applied the paddles again. Again the body contorted against the current, and then again nothing. Panic started to creep in at the edges of Dr. Brain-Waves mind as the various monitors that the clone was still connected to began to sound their alerts. "CLEAR!" He screamed and hit the body once more with the defibrillator. Nothing. Was this it? Years and years on this project, all a waste. "HHHEEEEEEEEEE!" The man on the table suddenly and violently gasped for air. The assistants, rather than rushing to the man's aid as their medical training insisted, were both pressed flat against the wall in terror. The man swung his legs off the table and sat up. He was suddenly wracked by a coughing fit, and spat a huge yellow gob of thick yellow fluid onto the floor. He slowly raised his head and looked about. To the equipment, to the doctors, and finally resting his gaze on Brian-Wave himself. His bright green eyes met the Doctor's. "Όταν είμαι?" The man said. The Doctor blinked as he managed to gather his wits about him. Was that Greek? The clone was programmed with many languages, but English should be his primary. He searched for something to say. Suddenly the words of the dream woman flooded tugged at his mind. What had she said about a serpent emperor? "You are Serpentor, and you are in my laboratory." "Th-that is my name?" The man said hesitantly. "I seem to remember there were others." March 11, 1981, beneath the Springfield Car Wash, Springfield, Indiana Dr. Brain-Wave was unsure what you would call the room he was in right now. Not quite an office, in the traditional sense, though it did have a desk, chairs and other office accoutrements, and not an audience chamber, this wasn't a medieval court after all. Nonetheless, it was where Cobra Commander received his visitors, on the rare occasion he didn't go to them. "Well, Doctor, what is it you want?" The Commander asked him. The Doctor hesitated. The Commander sounded weary, and from what he could gather, yesterday's operation had not been entirely successful. Still, the surviving elements from the assault on the long-secret headquarters of the Joint Operations Executive had been trickling in to Springfield since just before midnight, and it was strange that Doctor Venom hadn't come directly to the laboratory to check on the clone's progress, especially this close to the project's climax. Brain-Wave said as much to the Commander. "That's because Doctor Venom is dead." The Commander said flatly from beneath the blue hood that covered his face. "Dead?! How?" The Doctor was shocked. Venom was a cold bastard, and he had sometimes hated the man, but Venom was also a brilliant mind and the closest thing to a mentor Brain-Wave had since leaving university. "Killed in action, of course. He had as big of a hard-on for the JOE team as any of us, and insisted on being at the front. His HISS was blown up with him in it, as far as anyone can tell, fog of war and all that..." "Then it is my pleasure to inform you, Commander, that the legacy project was a success. The clone was decanted last night and is fully functioning." Cobra Commander leaned forward in his chair. "Indeed?" Even with his face obscured, his interest was obviously piqued. "When can I meet this marvel?" "He's just outside, Commander. I'll let him in." The Doctor opens the door and gestures for the clone to enter. The man walked in, towering over the Doctor and dressed in dark blue COBRA issue fatigues. "Cobra Commander, I present to you the future. This is Serpentor." Serpentor dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "Master! I await your command!" The Commander stood and approached his newest servant. "Arise, 'Serpentor'." Irony dripped from his voice. "Arise." He walked in circles around the now standing Serpentor, looking him up and down. "And how, 'Serpentor', would you have helped COBRA snatch victory from the jaws of our recent setback?" "I have not seen the battle plan for that operation, Commander, but my life and my death are yours to command. For the glory of COBRA!" Serpentor replied. "Of course they are. You may leave." The clone shot to attention, turned on his heel, and marched out of the room. "Excellent work, Doctor. Keep me appraised of his progress, will you?" "Of course, Commander." Brain-Wave replied. The Commander sat back in his chair and tented his fingers in front of his chin. "That brings us to our next item, Doctor. With Venom gone, you will be my new head scientist. And with your new position, I've also decided to approve your request for a new code name. Go find Biggles-Jones and have her bring you up to speed on whatever you need." "Commander, I don't know what to say!" The Doctor gushed. "Then don't. That will be all, Dr. Mindbender."
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Needs : AOCI Lamprey Vests, (or similar), ROC Flash helmets, ROC Shipwreck flippers, 25th Dusty Torsos (or similar), BBTS Bull (Taurus) head, Snake Eyes V.52 forearms. Last edited by DerStahlhelm; 11-05-2017 at 06:06 PM.. |
05-05-2017, 07:34 PM | #9 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2014
Location: Val Verde
Posts: 2,345
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CHAPTER SIX
April 4, 1981, Springfield High School Dr. Mindbender watched Serpentor on the high school's track, preparing to run again. The huge man was on the ground now, stretching his legs and chatting with his physical instructor. A voice came from behind the Doctor. "Is this your wee bairn of whom I've heard so much, Doctor?" Mindbender turned to face the speaker, a huge man, almost as large as Serpentor, dressed in expensive tweeds. His brown hair was combed straight back and he had an overall air of aristocracy about him. "Indeed it is, Destro." The tall man watched the clone preparing to run. "Quite the physical specimen, it would appear." Destro commented. "He did 4:02 on that last run, but he assures me he can beat it. I was convinced it would take months for him to be at full function physically, even with the conditioning we applied in tank, but his trainers say he has already surpassed all of the other cadets." Mindbender said. "But his mind, Destro, his mind! His intellect is astounding. And what's more, I'm becoming convinced that he has at least some of the memories of his genetic donors." A skeptical look crossed the Scotsman's face. "Genetic memory, Doctor? Hogwash!" "You need to talk to him. I do, every chance I get. He's fascininating, but beyond that, he knows things about the lives of his 'fathers' that were not included in the programming I devised for him, Destro." The Doctor motioned to Serpentor, now tightening the laces of his running shoes. "I talked to him on the second day of his training. He told me that he was enjoying it, and then told me a story of Caesar's time as a legionary at the siege of Mytilene and how, when he was in the depths of his intrigues, he often looked back fondly at his time as a simple soldier. None of that was in his programming. He slips frequently between pronouns, as if he is sometimes talking about himself, rather than a historical figure. I would love to study this if I had the time." "I dinnae think you'll have it soon, Mindbender. Something big is coming, the Commander wants to follow up that Staten Island debacle with a clear win. I expect he'll be sending for you soon. Do you think your creation will be ready to go into the field?" "I do, Destro. I do." Later that evening Mindbender found Serpentor on the small hill that overlooked the high school's football field. He sat on the grass, reading, and occasionally glancing at the players running drills on the field below. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, book in hand, he looked more like a college student than the amalgamation of history's greatest men. The Iliad, Mindbender noticed. Of course. Homer's tale of the Trojan War had been a favorite of Alexander's too. He used a leaf to mark his place as he closed the book. "It's amazing how little it's changed since I first read it, Doctor, all those years ago." Serpentor said as he sensed Mindbender's arrival. "Then you do have their memories! I suspected as much!" "Some." Serpentor replied. "And more all the time. But it's... disjointed. This book I remember word for word. Most times it's just flashes of memory. Images, sounds, smells, emotions. Not clear and not complete." "I envy you. The things, the history you carry in your head." Mindbender said, more wistfully than he had intended. "Perhaps I'll write a book someday, Doctor! But who would believe it!" The man's laugh was deep and honest. "You'll be heading into the field soon, Serpentor. There is a big operation coming. I talked to the Commander today and convinced him to let you take part. Are you ready?" The big man's green eyes flashed and his smile was predatory. "Doctor, I was born ready!" He laughed again. "Very well, there will be a briefing tomorrow. It's for command, but I want you to attend with me anyway. Good night, Serpentor." The doctor said as he turned to walk away. "Doctor!" Serpentor said. "There is one thing that has been heavy on my mind." "What is it?" The Doctor asked with genuine concern. He was feeling increasingly paternal towards the clone, something he wasn't sure was entirely wise. "My sleep has been troubled. I often dream of a strange woman." "If you need a woman, Serpentor, I'm sure I can arrange something." Mindbender quipped. The humour was a cover for his growing anxiety, however. "No, not that sort of dream. She comes to me in the mountains. Tells me I must fulfil my destiny. What does this mean?" "I was afraid of this." Mindbender said. "It's a side effect of the mental programming I gave you while you were growing. Pay it no mind. In time it will pass." Mindbender walked home. The chill he felt in his blood had nothing to do with the evening air.
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05-05-2017, 11:06 PM | #10 |
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