Mercenaries’ Tale – 4.13 Doug’s Journey
Doug regarded the tiny rat he was following with disdain as he proceeded down his corridor. He hated how it had been used to trick him and his friends, lulling them into a false sense of security over the lack of cameras, and he hated that he was no doubt still being watched through its eyes. He ranted under his breath, seething.
“Fucking security dickwads, fucking show them how compliant I can be…”
The corridor was riddled with different junctions, all leading to the various departments the complex contained. He couldn’t take any of them, more security doors rising as he approached them, blocking the path. This was annoying on its own but became more irksome when a squad of five security guards exited one of the connecting corridors, the doors having descended again after Doug had walked several paces past it.
Upon hearing their footsteps, Doug had whipped round with his bionic fist raised, ready to pummel whoever was stupid enough to try and sneak up on him only to find five automatic machine guns pointed at his head. He glared at the newcomers, aware that he’d be riddled with bullets before he could even reach the first guard. He lowered his fist.
“Good call,” the lead guard told him, smirking. Doug grunted, his escorts flanking him.
“Yeah, well, I seem to be making all the right decisions lately,” he sarcastically remarked. The guard sneered at him.
“Shall we proceed?” the guard asked in a tone that suggested that Doug really didn’t have a choice. McCracken contemplated his lack of options and continued his walk.
“So what’s it like working for an evil corporation anyway? You guys get dental?” he asked, attempting to relive the tension by being his usual smart-ass self. The guards ignored him, much to Doug’s chagrin.
Eventually the corridor emptied out into a lobby. Another three security guards were waiting for him there. One held a tray, another was filling out some paper work. The third met him in the centre of the room.
“I’m going to have to ask you to remove any and all personal affects,” the third guard told him. Doug scowled at him.
“And why would I wanna go and do a thing like that?” he asked in as sarcastic a manner as he could muster, much to the guard’s annoyance.
“Because you really don’t have a choice. We can do this the hard way if you prefer,” he told the merc, tapping the taser on his belt.
“Oh fuck you. I’m tired of being herded. Get me someone important to talk to and we’ll see what’s what!” Doug spat, failing to impress the guard.
“Mr McCracken, need I remind you that you were caught trespassing on Genetix property?” the guard asked. Doug paused to consider this, eventually breaking into an embarrassed grin.
“Got me there,” he agreed.
“Right. Now would you kindly remove any personal affects, i.e any weapons you may be carrying, your clothes and that rather large prosthetic you’re sporting,” the guard reiterated, clearly low on patience.
“You want my clothes?!” the soldier was clearly upset with this turn of events.
“You won’t be needing them where you’re going. If modesty is what you’re worried about, we can provide a medical gown although I assure you, we’ve seen it all before,” the guard stated matter of factly. Doug eyed the other guards and their weapons, considered his options and shrugged as he begrudgingly started complying with the request.
He placed his stuff into the tray the first guard was carrying, the bloke nearly toppling over as Doug dropped his arm into it, the guard clearly not expecting it to be so heavy. Doug couldn’t help smirking with satisfaction as his captor attempted to right himself, the load weighing him down. The guard didn’t take too kindly to this, deciding to find a way to irritate Doug further.
“He’s still got his dog tags on, Boss,” the younger guard pointed out, drawing everyone to the one article of “clothing” Doug was still wearing at this point, the mercenary currently attempting to protect his modesty with his one hand. The leader of the troop of guards sighed loudly.
“The dog tags need to come off too.”
“Fuck off, these stay with me,” Doug insisted, backing up a step and glaring at the Leader, daring him to try and take them from me. The Leader was far from impressed.
“We don’t have time for this. Men?” Several of the guards drew telescopic stun rods, each rod snapping out to its full length. The first guard took a swipe, Doug dodging left, grabbing the rod and kneeing the guard in the gut only to be caught off guard by three separate rods ramming into his back and activating, Doug screaming in pain as electricity flowed though his veins. He fell to his knees, his muscles seizing up. The Leader took this opportunity to step forward and deftly pull the tags’ chain over Doug’s head, throwing them into the tray with the rest of Doug’s things. One of the other guards then stepped forward and snapped a collar around Doug’s neck, the others backing off once it was in place. It was metallic, a small display screen on the front showing the wearer’s heartbeat. Two LEDs were visible above the monitor, only one currently powered.
“Yeah, serves you right!” Sneered the youngest guard, “and I’ll tell you what, I hope you like cold showers, mate, ‘cus I’m gonna make the decontamination room extra cold just for you!”
Doug flashed him the back of his middle finger as he shakily climbed to his feet, a lot less fight in him after that display of force. He knew one thing now, lashing out in anger wasn’t a good plan…
“Don’t antagonise him, son,” the lead guard told the younger, “take that lot to the security room to be processed. We’ll come get you in a bit,” the younger guard made a grunting noise, gave Doug one last dirty look and marched off.
Doug glanced at the leader.
“I’ll have that gown now, ta,” he said, trying to sound humble. The guards behind him sniggered.
“Yeah, that was a lie. Where you’re going you ain’t going to need clothes…”
The third guard stepped forward before Doug could ask any more questions, putting down the clipboard and producing some metal cuffs.
“Please stand with your arms, err, arm out and legs apart,” the guard requested. Once more, Doug looked towards the men brandishing their weapons behind him and reluctantly decided to comply with the request if only because he was going to need his strength for when he made his daring escape from his prison cell. The guard set about attaching a cuff to each of his ankles and to his wrist. Curiously, no chain was present, the cuffs consisting of a circlet of metal and a couple of lights, one of which lit up green as the cuffs snapped shut around his limbs. The one placed on his wrist was given more care as it was attached, something digging into a spot just above a vein. A closer inspection revealed a small opening where a needle could enter if necessary. The captured mercenary looked over his new accessories with disdain.
“What’s that supposed to be for? To look pretty?” Doug asked as the guard finished up and he was able to return to more relaxed posture, one hand moving to shield his modesty if only out of habit at this point.
“Nah, so we can do this if you try and run off,” the guard replied, pulling out a remote and pressing a button. The second light on Doug’s ankle cuffs turned on as did the electro magnet within, Doug’s legs snapping closed as the cuffs pulled themselves together, the mercenary barely managing to prevent himself from toppling onto the floor.
“Ah, shit!” he complained as he fought for balance, the guards around him laughing at his distress. The magnets were deactivated, Doug free to part his legs once more.
“Alright, I get it, you guys are all arseholes,” Doug summarised.
“Arseholes that own your arse, so you better behave,” the Leader sneered back, “We can take it from here, you guys go check the perimeter.”
Doug’s escorts turned and disappeared down the corridor, leaving Doug alone with the other two.
“If you’d just step into the decontamination chamber, we’ll have this whole sorry affair wrapped up shortly,” the talkative guard indicated a door with a security lock, the clipboard wielding guard opening the door with a swipe of a key card. There was a platform inside along with a railing that ran at waist height along a corridor. The platform was resting on a set of rails, the whole thing rigged up to move along the corridor. With an annoyed grunt, Doug stepped onto the platform where he was surprised by his cuffs activating. His ankles became stuck to either side of the platform and his wrist became attached to a small node on the railing, Doug unable to move no matter how hard he tugged on his bonds. With a jerk, the platform began to move, the door snapping shut behind him and Doug suddenly found himself in the human equivalent of a car wash. Jets of freezing cold water blasted him from all sides, the smell of disinfectant filling his nostrils. It lasted for ten long minutes, Doug swearing at the top of his lungs in protest as he was hosed down. Through a window to his left, he could see the guards putting on clean suits and following down a parallel corridor where the cleaning was far less harsh.
When the ride was finished, Doug was left shivering, cold, naked and stuck to the platform until the guards emerged to retrieve him, Doug glaring them all down as they approached.
From there he was brought into what looked like a typical doctor’s office, a man in a lab coat waiting for them. He regarded Doug with disdain. The feeling was mutual.
“I really don’t appreciate being dragged over here; I have tests that need monitoring,” he complained.
“Sorry Doc but this shouldn’t take long. It’s just the one that you need to process,” the head guard replied. The technician grunted.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want to inconvenience ya, Doc-,” Doug paused to consider what he was saying, “Wait, you need a doctor to put me in a holding cell?” he was understandably confused. This was all wrong. He could see an argument for the shower as they probably worried about germs from the outside world getting in and ruining their morally dubious experiments but this was getting to be far fetched.
“It’s a very special cell,” the technician replied, walking over to the back wall. There was a door there, a set of rails leading out of it. He pressed a button next to the door and a few moments later a piece of machinery was brought through the opening, stopping as it came to the end of the rails. It was a stasis pod, the glass front lifting up and its back wall sliding out and folding down until it turned into a chair, making it easier to strap a subject in.
“That’s not a holding cell,” Doug was beginning to feel nervous. He wouldn’t be able to stage a daring escape if he was placed in stasis. He tended to find being unconscious was not conducive to heroics.
The technician scoffed at him.
“Well obviously. This is a research facility, not a prison. All our holding cells are used to observe research subjects; putting one aside for trespassers would interfere with our work,” he informed the mercenary sarcastically, “we do however have an overabundance of stasis pods. They’re much better. You won’t have to worry so much about entertaining yourself while our superiors decide what to do with you.”
“And what’s that likely to be?” Doug questioned.
“Any number of things. You might be turned into a test subject or harvested for parts or perhaps you’ll just be filed away somewhere and forgotten about? Who’s to say? They’ll probably take their time in deciding though; it’s not like you’ll be going anywhere. Some of our subjects have been here for decades and have never been touched…” the technician approached Doug once more, removing a small torch from his pocket and shining it directly into his eyes. Doug recoiled but a guard grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and held him still.
“Hmm, good pupil response… healthy heart beat… hmm…now if there aren’t any more silly questions, I’d rather like to get on with things,” he stepped back and waved towards the pod, “take a seat. It won’t be the most comfortable but that hardly matters.”
Doug made no move to comply, instead looking around the room desperately for something he could use. The guard currently grabbing him began to push forward, Doug trying to resist. The second guard responded by grabbing Doug’s arm, the two slowly pushing their captive towards the pod.
“Hey! Hang on! You can’t do this!” Doug protested, the guards roughly turning him around so they could force him to sit.
“I think you’ll find we can,” the technician replied, approaching. Doug grit his teeth, fearing the worst.
The stasis pod was right behind him now, the guards trying to shove him into a sitting position and Doug resisting with all his might.
The technician moved to grab the remote for the cuffs from the guard.
The lights turned out.
The technician paused, staring up at the ceiling in surprise. Doug felt the guards grip slacken as they tried to work out why everything was suddenly pitch-black. Doug seized his opportunity, throwing all of his weight into the guard on his right, sending all three of them toppling to the floor. The guard grunted as he hit the ground. Doug prised his arm away and slammed his fist into the face of the guard on his left, breaking his nose and knocking him out. Doug used his leg to roll Leftie off of him, using his arm to try and prevent Rightie from disentangling himself. Doug rolled off of the flailing guard, who was trying to find where his gun had gone in the darkness. Doug found it first, using it to bludgeon Rightie over the head, the guard passing out with another groan.
The emergency lighting flickered on, illuminating the room in an eerie red glow. The technician paled as he realised that not only was Doug now armed, but the security staff that were supposed to be able to handle this kind of eventuality were unconscious. Doug pointed the gun at the technician, grinning.
“Well this was a lark an’ all but I ought to be getting on. Where’s the security office, mate?”
The technician had turned as white as a sheet. He was beginning to sweat, clearly out of his depth.
“What?!” Doug began closing the gap. His brow was low, casting his eyes in shadow in the poor lighting, painting an evil expression across his features. The technician backed up from the approaching mercenary, soon finding himself with his back pressed against the stasis pod.
“Security office. Where they took my gear. Where is it?” Doug asked again, trying his best to remain patient.
“I-I can’t…” the technician began.
“You know this gun’s a pretty high calibre,” he noted, “I wonder how big a mess it would make of your skull…?” he sounded genuinely curious, which terrified the doctor.
“Wh-what?!” he stammered.
“I could probably find the office on my own; I don’t really need you, it’ll just be a hell of a lot faster if you told me now. But if you want to be difficult then I can just perform an experiment of my own with this gun and your fat head and then be on my way. Your call,” he told the terrified scientist, still grinning that evil grin. In the red light he looked like a demon. The technician gulped.
“I-I…”
“I wonder how much of the back of your skull would be left after a shot from this thing. Might be interesting to find out,” Doug continued.
“It’s back the way you came!” the technician blurted out, “exit the clean room, take the first corridor on the left and follow it round until the T-junction! It should be on the right! Don’t shoot me!” he cried.
“There, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Doug said with a laugh.
“Now here’s the million Kronz question: how do I find my friends?”
“Th-the security network! The office’ll have a terminal! You’ll be able to f-f-find them on there! B-but you’ll need a login!” he babbled.
“Not a problem, I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Doug told him, lowering his gun. The technician let out a sigh of relief.
“Thanks mate. You’ve been real helpful,” he told him before swinging the machine gun down onto his skull. There was a sickening crack as he was knocked out, the doctor slumping across the floor.
“Oh, by the way, safety was on,” Doug pointed out to the unconscious scientist with a laugh. The merc searched the technician’s pockets, pinching his security pass before moving to the body of the head guard. First he grabbed the remote and used it to remove the cuffs and collar from his person. Then he took his pass-card as well and rifled through his pockets for any signs of a wallet. Coming up empty, he began inspecting the guards’ guns. They were fully automatic FBG-2022s, equipped with 68 calibre rounds. They had some serious stopping power; a fact that worried Doug. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find the reason behind the Genetix soldiers needing such powerful weapons.
He chose to take the gun with the most ammo, leaving the other behind so as to not weigh himself down. He pinched the belt of one guard complete with pouches for the pass-cards, a radio and a stun gun as an afterthought, made sure to turn the safety off on the FBG and then quietly slipped out of the lab with all of his new accessories.
Post by Sam | January 7, 2023 at 12:01 pm | The Mercenaries' Tale | No comment
Tags: Animal Sentries, Doug McCracken, Forest Canyon, Genetix, Mad Science, the Mercs