Prologue
June 10th, 1974
It was a clear, starry summer night. The sound of crickets chirping and frogs mating filled the air. A chain-link fence around an industrial facility with barbed wire at the top was in the remote field.
Inside one of the facility’s offices, a tall, wiry man with a gaunt face, hooked nose, bushy mustache, bushy blue hair, and huge glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. He’s dressed in an ill-fitting suit with a lab coat over it. He leans back in his desk and glances briefly at a photograph of himself, a dark-haired woman with a hook nose, and a small boy with the same bushy blue hair as the man. He quickly looks away, leans his head back, and lets out an exasperated sigh. He closes his eyes and sits there for a moment.
The sound of an explosion roaring through the corridor quickly jolted him out of his daze. Another loud BOOM soon followed it. The man’s mouth was ajar. Before he could react, another man dressed in a suit and lab coat burst into his office, panic filling his eyes.
Man: “Sir, XX-0364, has escaped! A masked man broke into the facility and he’s taking it away!”
The bushy-haired man, his complexion drained of all color and his hands trembling, silently squared the stack of documents and stacked them neatly in the center of his desk. His bottom lip quivered. He rose from his seat and smoothed out his lab coat, trying to keep his cool composure. His eyes fixed on the younger man.
Bushy-haired man: “Did he see anything?”
The man looked dumbfounded as if to imply he asked a stupid question. He shook his head in bewilderment.
Before he could challenge his superior, there was another explosion. The bushy-haired man saw the orange tongues flicking down the foyer and dancing on the floors, igniting every piece of equipment, and melting the plastic. The man shook his head.
Man: “We can’t retrieve it! We must destroy the other specimen and their bodies!”
He remarked. The bushy-haired man looked down.
Bushy-haired man: “They are not dead! They can still be salvaged!”
He cried. The younger man grabbed his superior by his arms, sinking his fingertips into the fabric.
Man: “We can’t risk that! Do you know what Dr. Lancaster said before we began this?! This is illegal on Reona, because of an accident in the 18th century! We could face the death penalty! I worked too hard for this, sir!”
His voice rose shrilly.
Bushy-haired man: “Dr. Duerr stated none of the research subjects acquired the results he sought.”
He mumbled.
Before the bushy-haired man could say anything more., his colleague marked into the burning corridor and kicked down the door. Inside the darkroom lay several lifeless bodies of children. The man nodded.
Man: “Help me drag them to the incinerator.”
Bushy-haired man: “What about the rest?”
The man turned around in a fury.
Man: “Did you not listen to what I said?! Let them burn alive! We can’t be discovered! Now help me drag them to the incinerator!”
He commanded.
The bushy-haired man wanted to protest. The experiments they performed on these children were inhuman and unethical; his colleague was tossing them away as if they were garbage. Then again, how am I any better? He wondered.
He watched his colleague toss the bodies into the incinerator, one by one. He shot his superior a look of frustration and rolled his eyes.
Man: “Help me here?”
He asked dryly. The bushy-haired man threw his arms up in frustration.
Bushy-haired man: “We have to get out of here!”
He shot back. The man glared mutinously at him.
Man: “And what, get caught by the police? I don’t think so!”
He snapped.
Before the bushy-haired man could protest, a blast sent his colleague straight into the wall. The place where the man landed soon erupted in flame. He writhed and twisted, covered in brilliant, leaping flames.
Fear paralyzed the bushy-haired man as he watched his colleague burn alive and then he lifted his eyes to him. It was the masked figure. He was a stocky man dressed in black, a mask obscuring his face, except his eyes were visible. His eyes were burning with fire and ice. The bushy-haired man’s bottom lip trembled and he took a few steps back. He suddenly fixed his eyes on the child the masked man was cradling.
Bushy-haired man: “I…I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go! I have a family!”
They could see the bushy-haired man’s colleague wreathed in fire. The skin on his face bubbled and cracked. The bushy-haired man swallowed a lump in his throat and backed away. Then he turned around and ran.
In seconds, the place became an inferno.
The bushy-haired man did not look back to see if the masked man made it out. He ran through the grassy field, running to get away from the place before the police came. The fresh air was the sweetest thing he ever smelled.
How could he explain this to his superiors? How could he live with himself? He knew the child being free would be a danger to society, but who were the real monsters?
He could not go back. He had to run.
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