Shadows and Stardust: A Tale of Ambition & Quest for Recognition

In the intricate dance of life, even chess pieces may choose to switch sides, revealing the fluidity of choices and the unpredictable nature of the game we call existence – Chess Grandmaster Louie Gallacher

Operation Menu: Phase Dinner (D+9.0 hours)

The atmosphere in the research lab was tense, accentuated by the unsettling sight of a colleague, a young man, slumped in a swivel chair wearing a white lab coat. His arms dangled lifelessly by his sides, and his complexion turned an alarming shade of pale blue. Across from him, a female colleague with curly red hair, clad in a matching lab coat, had turned blue and vanished from the room.

T.C. swiftly retrieved a bolt that passed through the man’s head and embedded into the wall behind where he had sat. The cold determination in his eyes focused on the chaos unfolding around him. He reloaded his air jack pick, as it hissed with the buildup of the pressure from the components of its internal parts.

T.C.'s jaw clenched as he prepared to hunt down anyone, he saw in a lab coat and confronted the situation by executing them without the slightest hesitation.

“My father would still be alive if it weren't for people mucking around with nature,” he said, securing the bolt in place with a click.

He meticulously checked under desks and beside filing cabinets, the recent lesson from the adjacent room still etched vividly in his mind. In the previous room, a lab technician caught him off guard, brandishing a laser pistol. Although the erratic shots missed their mark, it proved to be an unsettling lesson – check every corner.

“Stupid Business Class,” T.C. muttered as he flipped a desk over. “They should stay out of combat zones.”

Convinced that the room was now clear, he inspected a door he had discovered during his initial sweep. After scrutinizing it with his Witch Sight for potential traps, he tapped it lightly, listening for any echoes. Satisfied that the other side was devoid of lab technicians, he kicked the door open.

Animal cages lined the walls, and a window offered a glimpse into a dimly lit arena adorned with red banners. Stepping out from an office, a handsome man with fair skin and blonde hair that bore the subtle signs of aging greeted T.C. with a gentle smile, raising his hands in a placating manner. T.C. raised his weapon, his finger on the trigger.

“Ah, welcome dear guest. I’m so glad you finally made it. Please…please come in. Don’t be shy. I have tea brewing in anticipation for your arrival,” he said, adjusting his red tie. “Oh, yes, quite unsettling. Allow me a moment to change my tie to something more appropriate.”

He ran his fingers along the fabric of his tie, the color changing from blood red to ice blue. Then he pushed his square-rimmed glasses further up his nose.

“Better?” he asked politely.

“Who the heck are you?” T.C. asked, lowering his weapon.

“Oh, how impolite, where are my manners. I’m Dr. Nemo. Did the Azure Council fail to provide your team with all the details, like my name? Typical bureaucrats: they don’t appreciate the work people like you and me are doing in the combat zones, do they…mister?” he asked.

“The name’s Tunnel Cat, but you can call me T.C.,” he replied.

“Okay, Mr. T.C., before we leave, would you allow me to show you what Blue Faction has paid for me entering into their service?” Dr. Nemo asked. “Of course you do. Why come all this way and not get to see a sample? It’s like buying a car without taking it out for a test drive.”

He pulled out a tablet from his coat pocket and pressed a few buttons. One by one, lights turned on, flooding the arena with artificial light.

“Behold my latest work, Subject-1200, or as my assistants, you so efficiently dispatched—good work I wish to add—referred to as a Gorger,” Dr. Nemo said, gesturing to the window.

A creature bared its fangs at the lights above. It had a short and stocky body with coarse fur and a streak of white fur that ran down its back.

“You think it’s magnificent? Of course you do! Who wouldn’t be impressed by a gorilla, honey badger hybrid? Honestly, much to my dismay, not on my part mind you, its temperament is determined more on the nurture side of the nature versus nurture debate. For example, Subject-1200, when hungry, tends to get a little too rambunctious. Why this very morning, it ate one of the interns,” Dr. Nemo said, snickering.

T.C.’s stomach began to twist and turn.

Dr. Nemo continued, “Honestly, I suspect its base impulses will alter once we inject combatant blood into the subject.”

T.C. gasped and stared at Dr. Nemo, who was busy adding notes to his tablet. The door swung open, and Captain Jones and Webb marched into the room.

“More guests, I guess I should brew more tea,” Dr. Nemo said. “I was showing your colleague Subject-1200. Shall we let it loose before we depart?”

“Are you aware of what this guy is doing?” asked T.C.

“Stand down, T.C. We’ll take it from here,” Jones said as she moved towards the doctor.

T.C. backed up, his weapon trained on Dr. Nemo. Jones put herself between Nemo and the Bunny Buster air jack pick. T.C.’s finger twitched on the trigger.

“We’re not going to kill this guy? You know the guy who made that…thing he's going to feed blood from gladiators,” T.C. said, waving his weapon in hopes that Jones would move out of the way.

“You heard the captain, stand down,” Webb said.

T.C. noticed Dr. Nemo’s eyes. He was smiling, a wicked smile, as if he was enjoying the spectacle.

“Stand down, Tunnel Cat…it’s complicated,” Jones said, pulling out a pistol and aiming it towards T.C.

Webb snapped his fingers, and an M72 rifle appeared in his hands. He flipped the safety switch to fully automatic mode.

“You know what happens when you assault a friendly teammate, right? Not only will you be suspended, but you will lose a significant amount of experience. Are you sure you want to do this?” Jones said, lowering her tone of voice. “You’re not like Estelle. You follow orders and do the right thing. Now lower your weapon.”

T.C. looked down at the ground and back to his feet. Webb still had his weapon pointed at him, but Jones was lowering hers.

“Maybe she’s right,” T.C. thought as he looked through the window at the Gorger. It scratched at the ground, pawing in attempts to find something to eat. Its eyes were soft and brown, and the nose twitched as it nuzzled the ground.

“No, Boss Kitty wouldn’t have allowed you to come if she knew…” T.C. said.

“Who do you think authorized us to be here in the first place, Tunnel Cat? Of course, your captain knew,” Jones said.

“What?” T.C. asked in a mix of horror and confusion.

He lowered his weapon. From behind Jones, Dr. Nemo slipped out an auto-injection pen from his pocket and circled around towards T.C. He jammed it into T.C.’s neck. The pressure activated the spring, shooting the needle into his victim. Black tranquilizer liquid from the container tube.

T.C.’s pupils contracted. His knees felt wobbly, his head dizzy.

“Liar,” T.C. said, the words escaping from his lips as he fell to the floor.

Dr. Nemo pulled his tablet back from his pocket and tapped a few buttons before smashing it into the ground. The lights began to dim. When the red emergency lights began to click on, Webb looked around at the lights and into the arena.

“What just happened?” Webb asked.

“I disabled Fort Carré’s generators. We have about ten minutes before the secondary systems restore power,” Dr. Nemo said. “That’s just enough time before the anti-portal systems reactivate. In the meantime, Reds will be entertained with Subject-1200 and multiple 1000’s.”

The doors to the arena opened, and the Gorger noticed, prompting it to lazily wander out.

“1000’s?” Webb asked hesitantly.

“Oh, the Quillodon’s, a wolf porcupine hybrid. I’m sure if you like, we can acquaint you with one,” Dr. Nemo said, smiling. “Unlike Subject-1200, they are quite vicious and territorial.”

“Perhaps another time, doctor. Do you have a way out of this place?” Jones asked.

“Please follow me then,” Dr. Nemo said, gesturing to his office. “I must warn you; the De Sitter Portal system is a bit fickle and has the usual time distortion issues. It’s more of a minor inconvenience than a major problem or catastrophic failure, just a quirk of the technology.”

***