EVO Universe 1: The First (36 page)

“You mean 1939…,” she snidely corrected.

“Yes…give or take a year…” he turned sneering back at her, “You see our government at that time realized that the Nazi were right…in order for us to remain a super power in this world we as a nation had to evolve not just on a technological level, but a physical level as well. So while one division was creating weapons of mass destruction in the light for all to see, this division was kept in the shadows working on creating advanced weaponry and biological technology to would make us in the near future forever independent of nuclear arms.”

He began to walk around, “You see after Hiroshima and Nagasaki we came to the obvious realization that nuclear war is ineffective. Sure, you can drop a bomb and devastate an entire country…kill millions, but at the end of the day, you end up destroying billions upon billions of dollars in land and natural resources. War at the end of the day is about making a profit…and it does not pay if you blow your profit to shit. Germ warfare and dirty bombs hold similar problems…that on top of the possibly of accidentally infecting your own troops and country is just too damn high…you don’t need to see “31 Days Later” to reach that conclusion.”

“Love that movie by the way,” he stopped to interject, “Conventional warfare though not as destructive still costs, and is one of the reasons why this country is now in astronomical debt…due to our current leader putting
two
wars on a credit card. While our enemies not even spending a quarter of what we currently spend in defense, still achieve very high and effective body counts. That’s because as “hardcore” as we claim to be, our enemy is more hardcore with no fear of death, and no remorse for who they kill as long as it’s in the name of their god and achieving their objective. The only logical solution is to take death off the table in regards to us. That is why we have been feverishly working to upgrade the age old tool that has won wars for centuries and is cheap…man…”

“Another damn super solider project…” Mark muttered in disgust.

Not “another damn super solider” project,” the Director mocked Armitage’s voice, “A
super human
project…and in order to build the perfect superhuman it’s been concluded that it needs to be done on a genetic level. Drugs produce temporary changes with long-term extremely harmful side effects…sometimes fatal. Cloning although unethical to the bleeding masses is one option, but takes too damn long. Only in the embryo stage can we achieve successful gene alteration, we need effective soldiers like yesterday.”

“But by creating a virus that when injected into the body would destroy, replicate, and mimic the functions of whatever cell it encounters…becoming a superior cell in every shape and form of the way…we could create a superhuman from the inside out in a matter of days,” said the Director proudly.

“Sounds like the perfect version of the A.I.D.S virus…” Sophia snorted.

“How’s the saying go? Can’t make an omelet without dropping a few eggs?” the Director coldly said to her, “Unfortunately the homosexual community got a bad rap due to an infected agent with an uncontrollable heroin habit which we thought was suppressed in a time when idiots who did that shit shared needles. Back in the early stages of the project there was a process each D.E.A.D agent had to go through before injected with the virus so it did not reject and kill you by attacking your immune system. Those that did not go through the process…well you get the idea.”

He sighed shaking his head, “We did our best to try and contain it, but in the end we were forced to cover our tracks and cleanse the rest of the agents in our stable…set our D.E.A.D project back two years…but that’s what happens when you recruit a junkie serial killer.”

Sophia and Mark had mirrored looks of grimace realizing what Director Rosen was talking about as they looked into the eyes of the remaining D.E.A.D.

“That’s right people…members of the D.E.A.D are beta testers for a more superior and elite America,” said the Director finally introducing them, “The Disavowed Extermination Assault Division was created
after
the Vietnam War. Once again, our government realized that there were monsters in this world so terrifying and so ruthless; regular soldiers would be incapable of dealing with them. Nor were they capable of executing certain unnerving tasks needed to deal with such monsters.”

“So we went looking for the most homicidal sociopaths in this country, made them dead on paper virtual ghosts,” the Director motioned with pride, “Genetically altered, trained and equipped them with the most highly advance weaponry no one has ever seen before. We then sent them out with one command…to kill and slaughter any and anyone we see as a threat to the national security of this country.”

Mark motioned to the remaining members of the D.E.A.D in total disgust, “So you spit on real soldiers, by turning these sick…”

#4 having enough of Mark’s mouth walked over and took the air out of his lungs with a gut shot doubling him over. The enhanced punch was powerful enough to lift him off his feet dropping him to his knees. #4 went to pull him up for another one but the Director waved him off.

“You...put the trust this country into the hands of murderous scumbags…” he coughed getting it out.

“These “murderous scumbags” are still Americans serving their country, and I trust them far more than I trust you;” Rosen walked over patting #1 on the shoulder, “Especially since each of them are implanted with the same nanites that were implanted into Mr. Dunbar.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind…,” Mark sneered.

“You’re out of your goddamn mind…” the Director mocked him again, “Aren’t we playing the hypocrite…you were a solider once Special Agent. You know first hand the ravages of war. If there were a way to save
one
man from dying on the battlefield…if you could stop coffins with flags from coming home would you not take it? I’m saving the economy and making sure
all
of the young men and women, we send into battle come home alive and in one piece. You tell me where in that am I out of my goddamn mind?”

“Because I fail to see the “good” in them?” he motioned to the D.E.A.D, “Turning a bunch of psychopaths into unstoppable monsters who murder and butcher innocent…”

“Dear god stop…please stop with the holier than though speech,” Rosen shook his head rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Who do you think were flying those planes on 9/11? You think they were soldiers? Studies show that the average “terrorist” has seen his first dead body or body parts up close and personal by the age of five, their playtime is poking rotting corpses with sticks. That same terrorist has either killed or seen a person killed by the age of 13. While almost 95% of the soldiers in our very own military has neither seen nor killed anyone until they’ve been in
actual
combat… why do you think so many of them are in an “f’ed” up state when they get back? As of 2008 we’ve had the largest suicide rate for service men since 1980, one hundred and twenty-eight confirmed suicides by serving Army personnel and forty-one by serving Marines.”

“We figured out a long time ago that the perfect killer is not one that is trained or condition. It’s one that is naturally born with the joy of killing…” the Director drove the point home, “I personally find it far more productive than having them out there cutting up little girls in the Mid-West, wasting taxpayers’ money on a trial, appeals, and accommodations for either a life or death sentence.”

#4 raised his hand, “I’m more partial to cutting up whores…”

Everyone turned to look at the dumbass elephant in the room.

“Just saying…” he shrugged.

“So this is what it’s all about? Huh? Taking a dump on the Constitution and murdering any and anyone who stands in the way of your quest to create a Master Race; so is there a color requirement or a dollar amount to get an “S” on your chest?” Mark threw out there, as he slowly got back to his feet. It was actually a tactic by him to buy some time to think of something to get them out of this obviously impossible situation.

“You think I’m Oliver North?” the Director laughed.

“You think we spent the last almost 70 years busting our asses to become gods to sell it off for some printed paper, metal, stones…oil?! I should shoot you myself on mere principle…especially for implying that I’m a racist, my banker is black goddammit,” Rosen sneered at him.

“I told you we’re here working to save “American lives”, if Russia wants to make their own Ivan Drago,” the Director laughed before getting serious again; “Let them figure it out for themselves along with the rest of the world. This one the good ole U.S of A is strictly keeping for ourselves …which is why you should be rejoicing… a dawn of a new day Special Agent…soldiers like you use to be will soon be just like her.”

Rosen walked over motioning to Sophia, “The only thing we’ll need a military budget for is some cool highly durable uniforms…who needs to spend billions of dollars on tanks or aircrafts we don’t need when you can drop
five
of her into a hot zone? You need to stop thinking of this as some stupid comic book hero villain situation. Our enemies out there have promised that if it takes five hundred years they would not stop until they destroy this country. We’re just making it where we’re still standing five hundred years from now to laugh in their faces when they finally realize they’ve failed miserably and need to bow down…”

“What we are doing right here,” the Director drove home with emphasis, “right now is for the good of this country. Our country…and the only way to do that, is to reclaim our spot as a true superpower of this world…by speeding up evolution and becoming the image of what we were modeled from…God Himself...”

“So my husband was butchered for what?” Sophia finally asked joining in the conversation, “Exposing your quest to turn men into gods?”

Director Rosen sighed as he turned with an emotionless look on his face to address the living goddess in the room, “Your husband was “executed” for betraying his country and his unit when he planned on leaking classified information about this division to the press.”

“You’re lying,” she smirked in disbelief, “What would…”

A wave of emotion ran through her as her legs buckled underneath her dropping her on her rear.

She slowly shook her head wanting to believe it was all a lie, but the pieces to the puzzle when formed revealed the only clear picture; the Director words only put a stamp on what she knew was the horrible truth…why Robert knew he was going to burn.

The Director walked within safe distance of her stooping down to look into her dazed teary eyes.

“Finally figured it out huh…the reason why there were only three in the room that night,” he sighed heavily, “Was because #4 was sleeping right next to you…actually his call sign was #2…but you already knew that didn’t you…deep down. I can tell you it wasn’t my idea to make him apart of this outfit…that blame belongs to his daddy for breaking protocol to get him in here…”

“The…General…” Sophia seethed with rage in between the tears that fell.

“Yes…the General. The job application requires that you are a 100 percent grade “A” murdering psychopath,” explained Rosen, “But daddy took it pretty hard that his little Marine couldn’t be all he could be anymore. So we were
forced
to make an exception…even had to wave off the nanite implant, which fucked up moral a bit…but after all he is the head of this division.”

“I’m just one pay grade below him,” Rosen shrugged “Your husband did have promise. The virus repaired his injuries and enhanced him quickly…you wouldn’t have known because he wore prosthetics to make him appear still injured. So while you thought, he was going to rehabilitation, hanging out with friends, or screwing someone else. He was half way around the world slaughtering whole regimes with the rest of us via our orbital jump program which would take too long to explain…the initial plan was for him to eventually divorce you…but after the job in Ramadi…”

“Oh…god no…” Sophia bent over sobbing.

“Yeah…anyway…like I said…not a job for “regular” people,” Rosen shook his head, “And as I predicted his conscience kicked in. We found out he was contacting this reporter and planning to go to the press with what happened in Ramadi and expose this operation…over sixty years worth of good work…this whole division possibly being compromised by your dry snitching husband could not be ignored…not even by his own father.”

The Director’s reveal even made Mark sway in disbelief, “No fucking way,” as he knew what Rosen was getting at.

“Yeah even I didn’t think the old man had the sack to give the order,” Rosen acted somewhat surprised, “If it’s any consolation…I wanted to get him done in the field. A random mugging gone bad…it was the old man’s idea for you to take the hit…personally I think the whole thing’s bullshit…holding you responsible for his son’s military downfall…”

Rosen rose once again to his feet, “But I’m not one for getting into family drama…”

“So…I got infected by my husband that night,” she finally asked, “That is what made me like this…”

“Close…but no doctor…we can’t take full credit for what you are,” the Director shrugged his shoulders, “You see the current virus we created…is only capable of
enhanced
attributes…strength, speed, endurance, healing within a couple of days. We were
far
from our final goal which is you…making sure we didn’t duplicate the mistakes from the past the new strain we created does not infect humans during sexual intercourse or through blood transfusion like the strain of old…we however did not foresee procreation and conception.”