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The AdvAnTAGE Project

By

Mantrid Brizon

Episode 06: Conscientious

The sound of rattling beads, a product of his trembling hands, reverberates throughout the interior of the modest office. His frustration mounts, his prayers still unanswered. With an angry growl, Dr. Jose Chavez slams his fists atop the desk, shifting the framed photograph of his parents and younger siblings. He glances toward the photograph. How ashamed would his family be if they knew where his money came from? With a somber sigh, he turns in his chair, leaning over as he opens the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Just to take the edge off." He murmurs to himself, retrieving a glass flask filled with Jim Beam Black Label whiskey.

Making his way down the hall, he pushes his way through swaying double-doors. Several of his staff turn toward him, some of them greeting the doctor who was recently promoted to Chief of the Science Division, the position once briefly held by Dr. Kyle Burnheart. Dr. Chavez ignores his staff; he's busy examining several papers attached to a clipboard. He always seems so focused on his work.

“Doctor? Excuse me, Doctor." A woman speaks up.

“Yes? What is it?" He asks, never taking his eyes away from the papers.

“We have the new samples. They just came in."

With his attention drawn away from the papers, he turns his eyes and glances toward the woman, who points toward a box atop a nearby table. Making his way toward the box, he peers inside to find it filled with many jars and vials. Made of clear plastic and properly sealed, they hold various fluids taken from Donor #0001. Blood, plasma, and even spinal fluid sit within the containers. His hand begins to shake as he lifts a single vial.

“W-where did these come from?" He softly inquires.

“Let's see..." The woman lifts a bill-of-lading from the table. “The location is listed as 'White Base'. That must be some new lab, right?"

Realizing that the vial clasped between his fingertips must contain the blood of Avery Keyes, he swiftly returns it to its carrier. With a rough shove, he slides the box toward her.

“Take care of it." He sternly demands.

“Doctor?" She raises a brow.

“I trust you to run the experiments. I, uhm... I have other matters to attend to..."

Swiftly leaving the lab, Dr. Chavez finds himself walking aimlessly throughout the complex. Where is he going? Anywhere that he can find some privacy. Turning a corner and moving down the stairs, he glances at the myriad of security cameras that now blanket the facility. All he wants is to be alone. Entering the crockpot, he walks past several more of his subordinates, who diligently check the vitals on the many thousands of incubation chambers.

Finally, he finds a long and lonely hall, lined with more of the tanks which grow the AdvAnimals. These tanks have already been checked, and now he can finally be alone. With no cameras in sight, he sits on the cold, metal floor, his back pressed against one of the many glowing, fluid-filled chambers.

“I'm so sorry, Avery. You were a good man. You don't deserve whatever they're doing to you, and your family shouldn't have been told that you're dead... I hope they're at least treating you well. I pray that they are, in Christ's name... Avery... May God forgive us for what we've done..." He softly whimpers.

Turning his attention toward the tanks that line the wall before him, Dr. Chavez shifts his torso and glances behind him. As his eyes scan the vessels, he cannot help but wonder. Why didn't he sabotage the project when he had the chance, before Harriet was “born"? The answer is obvious. He's a coward. He didn't have the strength back then, and now that he's failed it's far too late to do anything. In the time that's passed since the escape of the two doctors and the first specimen, Harriet, and since Avery's “detainment" in the White Base, these tanks have already seen a birth. Now these very tanks grow a second wave of AdvAnimals, another 50,000 beasts.

Meanwhile, the first batch where all whisked away by the frightening, suit-wearing men who swarm the facility. Not one creature was left behind for the doctors to vivisect, which Dr. Chavez would've gladly done. They only had time to clean the children, check their vitals and prepare them for travel. He has no idea where they took the creatures, and neither does Director Chen. Her privileges end at the front door, and if he were to be honest, they probably end at her desk. Few at MiLab know what's going on anymore, their orders given to them by the men-in-black on a day-by-day basis.

If he didn't know any better, he would say that all they are now are organic robots, conductors whose sole job is to guide the unstoppable train that carries a new species into existence. Just as he thoroughly loses himself in his dark thoughts, the chirping of his expensive sports watch pulls him back to reality.

“Finally!" He sighs with relief, deactivating his alarm.

After returning to his office to log his reports and sign out of his terminal, Dr. Chavez makes his way for the front doors. He's so eager to go home, as he always is these days. Passing by the Director's door, however, he pauses, staring intently at her nameplate. He steps closer and raises a knuckle to knock but before he can touch the door it swings open. Director Amy Chen gasps as she's met with the man standing in front of her door.

“Dr. Chavez! You startled me!" She says, placing a hand over her chest.

“Sorry. Leaving early?"

“Yeah. I really want to get home."

“You've been leaving earlier and earlier these days." He remarks.

“So have you."

The pair share a melancholy stare, the silence enveloping them like a thick fog. Clearing her throat as she drops her head, Dr. Chavez sidesteps and allows her to pass.

“Well... Good afternoon, Dr. Chavez." She says as she begins walking.

“I-I was going to give my report, Director Chen!" He speaks up.

She stops in her tracks and turns to face him.

“What report?"

“You know... For those new samples."

The color leaves her face as she drops her head, looking sheepishly at her dressy high-heeled shoes.

“Oh... That report."

“I didn't get around to it. I'm sorry."

“I don't blame you, all things considered." She speaks softly, stepping closer to him. “I've been thinking about Donor #0001..." She whispers.

“Me too." He murmurs.

“Have a good afternoon, Dr. Chavez..." She says as she takes a step back. “Get me the report tomorrow, but no later."

“Understood. Good afternoon, Director Chen."

Pushing through the double-doors, her high-heeled shoes dash down the steps. Racing through the hall, she barrels through another set of doors, startling the men inside.

“Woah! Slow down!" An older man in business casual turns to her.

“Are you alright, Suzy?!" A younger man asks, a look of concern on his face.

“I'm sorry to interrupt!" She exclaims. “I have a big scoop!"

“Big enough to run in high-heels?" The younger man smirks.

“Oh, yeah! This one is huge!"

“Well? Don't leave us in suspense. What is it, Suzy?" The older man leans against a desk and crosses his arms.

“MiLab..."

“What about it?"

“I just got a contact from someone who claims to work there. Someone important." She begins.

“Really?!"

“They want me to break the story. They say they're going to give me 'everything I need'!" She giddily asserts.

The men are shocked. They look to each other with wide eyes, before returning their attention to the woman.

“And you want the green-light, to go and meet this contact?" The older man asks.

“Yeah. I think it's for real."

“How can you tell?" The younger man raises a brow, mimicking the older man's posture.

“Because, Steve, I'm not an idiot! The person sounded scared! They were half-whispering and they sounded so nervous. Whatever this is, it's got to be huge!" Suzy chirps.

“I don't know... This could be dangerous, even illegal." The older man murmurs.

“Please?! I want this story, Dave. Whatever they're cooking up at that lab has to be serious. Dangerous or not, illegal or not, the people have a right to know!"

“And you have a right to make sure they know it." Steve smirks.

“Well, yeah!" Suzy grins from cheek to cheek.

“Alright..." Dave says with a heavy sigh. “But I want you to be careful! If it doesn't feel right, get out of there, and if they asked you to go somewhere secluded or at night, don't go at all."

“Understood! You won't be sorry!"

As she dashes out of the office, Steve looks toward his boss, the senior executive of their local news affiliate. With a little grin, Dave waves a hand, ushering the reporter out of his office.

“Well, if her story isn't all that, at least I have that interview with the Chief. Kidnapping and double murder in an upscale neighborhood is always big news!"

“If it bleeds it leads, Steve." Dave chuckles.

As soon as Steve leaves the office, shutting the door behind him, Dave's smile fades. He lets out another sigh and moves around the desk. Taking a seat in his chair, he slumps back, his eyes fixated on his telephone. With an audible gulp, he reaches into the breast pocket of his button-up shirt and removes a card. Holding the card in one hand, he lifts the phone receiver and begins to dial.

“Hey... It's Dave Wengren, with Channel 7 News... I need you to give him a message."

Sitting in her car, a little, red Mazda Miata, Suzy looks to and fro for any sign of her contact. While it's still broad daylight, the person asked her to meet them at a park with limited traffic. Should she get out and walk around? They called her extension, so they must know her or at the very least know of her. As a reporter who's made many presentations on television, they'll probably recognize her. Maybe she should walk the park and see who stops her? Climbing very slowly out of her car, she glances both ways before closing the door.

Her shoes click distinctly on the concrete as she makes her way toward the path. She pauses, suddenly feeling foolish for even considering the thought. Perhaps she misheard the caller or perhaps this whole thing is an elaborate prank? As she turns back toward her car, she jumps as a payphone about fifty feet away suddenly rings. She looks from side to side before glancing toward the ringing phone. Who could possibly be calling a payphone? Reaching out a hand, she grips the receiver, allowing it to ring several more times before picking it up.

“Hello?"

“I thought you were never going to get out of that car!" The voice exclaims.

“It's you! Where you watching me?!"

“I still am."

She looks around, leaning over as if that will enhance her vision.

“Don't bother. I'm on a cellular phone, and these are powerful binoculars."

“You called my office and said you wanted to meet."

“I did. I need you to see something." The stranger speaks.

“Well? Aren't you going to come over here and show me?"

“Hell no! I can't be seen with you... They might be watching..." The voice whispers.

“Who might be watching?" Suzy raises a brow.

“Never mind! Just turn left and walk the path. Sit at the second bench, near that drinking fountain. Behind it is a big rock and a rotted out log next to it. Turn over the rock..."

“Are you serious?!"

“Do I sound like I'm pulling a prank?!" The caller growls.

“Maybe... You have to admit, this all seems awfully strange." She says, still looking out for the caller. “It's like a spy movie or something. How do I know I can even trust you?"

“Do you want the fucking story or don't you?! It's all there! Now get to it and blow the lid off that fucking place or more people will die."

Before she can say another word, she hears the click of the call ending. She examines the receiver for a moment before hanging it up. Walking slowly away from the payphone, she continues to scan her surroundings. No one is visible; she's all alone. Suzy slips her hands into her pockets and begins the short hike. After a few minutes, she passes the first park bench and rounds a corner, seeing the second park bench and the drinking fountain. Just as the caller had said, she finds the rock and the rotted log. The rock is substantial, weighing at least twenty pounds.

“This better not be a fucking joke or I'm going to be pissed." She grumbles.

As she finally gets a good grip and lifts the rock, she sees a manila envelope wrapped in a large Ziploc bag.

“Oh, shit!" She giggles with delight.

Using a foot, she slides the envelope out from under the rock before setting it back down. Taking the artifact from the ground, she races back to her car, jumping into the driver's seat and turning the key. As her sporty little car hums to life, she pauses to stare at the envelope. Gently biting her bottom lip, she's quickly subdued by her own curiosity. Carefully pulling the envelope from the bag and opening the flap, she pulls out a neat stack of papers, all of them computer printed, and a stack of photographs.

“What the hell is this? A big fish tank?"

She rotates the black and white photos, which were clearly taken with an older, compact film camera. There seem to be corridors lined with many of these strange tanks. The backdrop is highly advanced, the walls, floors and even ceilings glistening as if they were plated with chrome. A trick of the lighting? Flipping through the pictures she finds a closeup revealing something inside of the tank. It floats near the center, a thin, dark strand moving from the blob and up toward the lid. There's a caption on the back, handwritten in red ink.

“Fox-child. Chimera of human and animal DNA."

Her eyes grow wide. What are they doing in that lab, nestled deep in the Central Michigan woods?! She flips to the last picture, which was clearly taken with the camera stowed inside of someone's clothes. The edges of the picture appear to show what looks like the hem of a coat. In the center of the photograph is a table and lying atop the table is a horrifying sight. A baby that's covered in matted fur! The child's legs seem deformed, their ankles sharply bent and their feet shaped like giant paws. The face protrudes, as if the child had a snout. Is that a tail jutting out from between the baby's legs?! Suzy drops the photos atop her lap and covers her mouth.

“Oh my God! What the fuck is going on up there?!"

After taking a moment to collect herself, she proceeds to gather up the photographs and the paperwork. She flips through the pictures one more time, then begins to examine the papers. They're official lab reports, written with all of the austerity and technical terminology of a person with multiple doctorates. It's difficult for her to understand.

“Wow... I'm going to win a Pulitzer for this!"