Post by Dr. Breech on Jan 30, 2018 9:33:11 GMT
The dim lights of the laboratory flickered and fizzled, betraying their age. The underground base of operations had been out of use for some time now; its owners off-planet, or worse, dead. Months, perhaps even years had gone by since the last living organism walked through the musty halls of this lab.
And it would be many more years before anything living did.
The massive metallic doors embedded into the side of the frigid mountain slid open, letting in a burst of wind and ice that littered the floor. From the frosty night air, a familiar face stepped in, the blast doors slamming shut behind him. To most, that intense cold would have been unbearable, but Doctor Breech was not most. In his prime, he would have scoffed at the sight of his old lab. It was in disarray. Beakers and files lay strewn across the floor. Most of the computers had been destroyed or were wiped of memory. Whoever had been here before him was looking to erase evidence. Hell, it could have even been himself who ordered the wipe. It was hard to remember.
Breech was not in his prime, however. It had been years since. His mechanical body had been destroyed once, and ever since, he could never find a foothold for his plans. Now, he was in a new body. Similar in style to the original model, but much weaker. He hadn't been able to find the perfect replacement parts. Any time he found a lead, it'd go cold, or some self-appointed do-gooder would happen to be in "the right place at the right time".
The mechanized doctor walked towards one of the few working computers, and slowly tapped at the keyboard, a searing pain in the back of his organic brain. It was hurting more and more these last few months. It made it hard to think.
What was he doing here, anyway? He was having trouble remembering.
Oh, of course. He was here to continue his legacy.
Blinking harshly, Breech's typing hastened. He input a very specific, very long string of code to unlock something hidden away. Most of the data on his old organization had been wiped, but not this. With a final keystroke, the screen lit up, as file after file opened itself. He drank the information in, trying his hardest to focus as his eyes darted from one line of text to the next. This was something he had started working on shortly after his conquering of a planet he could not even remember the name of.
"Of course," he mused to himself, chuckling.
Without another word, he practically leaped out of his chair, moving to the opposite end of the laboratory where a set of tools lay waiting next to what looked like an operating table. There sat a woman-- no, a machine. It was dormant. Waiting to be awoken for the first time.
But she was not ready.
He put a drill to her forehead, and... Well, he couldn't remember suddenly. Whatever he'd just done to her brain was a blur in his head. This was getting infuriating.
Now, she was nearly ready, wasn't she? Surely he'd done it all properly. If only he could remember.
He put his hands on the rail of the operating table, and wheeled the lab-coat-wearing woman off to the next room. It was more recently constructed than the rest of the lab, but it still held that musty scent and worn-down feeling.
In the direct center of the room was something with a design akin to a spacepod, though it was not so round. It looked more like a pill, designed to hold someone standing up rather than sitting down. The white metal was accented by a single glass window which rested where the occupant's upper body might rest. Below that, the logo of Breech's organization.
The green globe was faded now; the paint of the wings had chipped, and the white eye had faded considerably, but his creation would know the name well enough, even if Breech could not.
He approached the pill-shaped chamber, and input a passcode on the keypad adjacent to it. Soufa's birthday was the password. He could never forget that number.
Suddenly, the pill opened up, revealing the cushioned insides. Moving as quickly as his failing mechanized body would allow, he deposited the girl inside, and sealed it back up, before turning to the keypad again. He had to make sure she... "Incubated" long enough. Two years should do, perhaps. Or maybe twenty? Yes, two-hundred seemed right. He input the three-digit wait time, and confirmed. A loud click came from the pill-pod, and his creation was locked inside.
Breech sighed a content sigh. His final creation could rest easy now. She was being fed information about the world, possible advancements to Earth technology in the next few years, and everything else she needed if she decided blending in with society was necessary to her mission.
Now all that was left was to leave her a message.
The withered old man turned to a camera he'd set up, but forgotten about, and clicked record.
A deep, mournful sigh came from him.
"My daughter..." he smiled, weakly. "I am your creator, Doctor Breech... Breech..." He paused. It was hard to remember his own last name now. His gaze fell downward, and he pondered with an irritated expression.
Suddenly his eyes shot back up to the camera, and he blurted out: "Aris! Breech Aris!"
He removed his large cylinder hat, revealing the dust-covered dome that protected his brain. There was a crack in the glass, and it was slowly, almost imperceptibly leaking fluid.
"I have spent my entire life trying to better humanity. To evolve them; help them break the shackles of pain and sorrow and age. Regrettably, however, I have failed." He frowned, clearly disappointed in himself. "In my old age, It seems I have begun to forget. People I used to know have become blurs in my mind, and my mission is but a word in the wind. I can no longer continue my life's work."
"But that is where you come in."
His smile returned, and he moved closer to the camera, allowing the light to shine on more of his body. His clothes were ragged and torn; like he'd been beaten in some battle he shouldn't have fought.
"I have created you-- my wonderful daughter-- to carry on my mission. To evolve the galaxy. Make them better than they are, because it is what they deserve."
He grew silent again. What else did he want to say?
He wasn't sure how long had passed since his last word, but eventually, he spoke again. "... I have unlocked access to every file in my database. Files on our plans, my old organization, and any hidden bases I had lying around Earth. Feel free to use them any way you like, my dear."
For a moment, he turned away from the camera, allowing his back to be shown. The backside of his head was blackened and burned, and the glass of his brain case had been warped.
"I will not force you to take on my mission, but I will simply implore you." He turned to the camera again, a sincere look in his eye. "Do it not just for me, dear Tanga. Do it for your dear mother Soufa. For your brother, Jeanne, and for his son, Traus. I failed them all. Do better than I did."
He clicked the camera off, and walked out of the room.
He couldn't remember what happened next.
And it would be many more years before anything living did.
The massive metallic doors embedded into the side of the frigid mountain slid open, letting in a burst of wind and ice that littered the floor. From the frosty night air, a familiar face stepped in, the blast doors slamming shut behind him. To most, that intense cold would have been unbearable, but Doctor Breech was not most. In his prime, he would have scoffed at the sight of his old lab. It was in disarray. Beakers and files lay strewn across the floor. Most of the computers had been destroyed or were wiped of memory. Whoever had been here before him was looking to erase evidence. Hell, it could have even been himself who ordered the wipe. It was hard to remember.
Breech was not in his prime, however. It had been years since. His mechanical body had been destroyed once, and ever since, he could never find a foothold for his plans. Now, he was in a new body. Similar in style to the original model, but much weaker. He hadn't been able to find the perfect replacement parts. Any time he found a lead, it'd go cold, or some self-appointed do-gooder would happen to be in "the right place at the right time".
The mechanized doctor walked towards one of the few working computers, and slowly tapped at the keyboard, a searing pain in the back of his organic brain. It was hurting more and more these last few months. It made it hard to think.
What was he doing here, anyway? He was having trouble remembering.
Oh, of course. He was here to continue his legacy.
Blinking harshly, Breech's typing hastened. He input a very specific, very long string of code to unlock something hidden away. Most of the data on his old organization had been wiped, but not this. With a final keystroke, the screen lit up, as file after file opened itself. He drank the information in, trying his hardest to focus as his eyes darted from one line of text to the next. This was something he had started working on shortly after his conquering of a planet he could not even remember the name of.
"Of course," he mused to himself, chuckling.
Without another word, he practically leaped out of his chair, moving to the opposite end of the laboratory where a set of tools lay waiting next to what looked like an operating table. There sat a woman-- no, a machine. It was dormant. Waiting to be awoken for the first time.
But she was not ready.
He put a drill to her forehead, and... Well, he couldn't remember suddenly. Whatever he'd just done to her brain was a blur in his head. This was getting infuriating.
Now, she was nearly ready, wasn't she? Surely he'd done it all properly. If only he could remember.
He put his hands on the rail of the operating table, and wheeled the lab-coat-wearing woman off to the next room. It was more recently constructed than the rest of the lab, but it still held that musty scent and worn-down feeling.
In the direct center of the room was something with a design akin to a spacepod, though it was not so round. It looked more like a pill, designed to hold someone standing up rather than sitting down. The white metal was accented by a single glass window which rested where the occupant's upper body might rest. Below that, the logo of Breech's organization.
The green globe was faded now; the paint of the wings had chipped, and the white eye had faded considerably, but his creation would know the name well enough, even if Breech could not.
He approached the pill-shaped chamber, and input a passcode on the keypad adjacent to it. Soufa's birthday was the password. He could never forget that number.
Suddenly, the pill opened up, revealing the cushioned insides. Moving as quickly as his failing mechanized body would allow, he deposited the girl inside, and sealed it back up, before turning to the keypad again. He had to make sure she... "Incubated" long enough. Two years should do, perhaps. Or maybe twenty? Yes, two-hundred seemed right. He input the three-digit wait time, and confirmed. A loud click came from the pill-pod, and his creation was locked inside.
Breech sighed a content sigh. His final creation could rest easy now. She was being fed information about the world, possible advancements to Earth technology in the next few years, and everything else she needed if she decided blending in with society was necessary to her mission.
Now all that was left was to leave her a message.
The withered old man turned to a camera he'd set up, but forgotten about, and clicked record.
A deep, mournful sigh came from him.
"My daughter..." he smiled, weakly. "I am your creator, Doctor Breech... Breech..." He paused. It was hard to remember his own last name now. His gaze fell downward, and he pondered with an irritated expression.
Suddenly his eyes shot back up to the camera, and he blurted out: "Aris! Breech Aris!"
He removed his large cylinder hat, revealing the dust-covered dome that protected his brain. There was a crack in the glass, and it was slowly, almost imperceptibly leaking fluid.
"I have spent my entire life trying to better humanity. To evolve them; help them break the shackles of pain and sorrow and age. Regrettably, however, I have failed." He frowned, clearly disappointed in himself. "In my old age, It seems I have begun to forget. People I used to know have become blurs in my mind, and my mission is but a word in the wind. I can no longer continue my life's work."
"But that is where you come in."
His smile returned, and he moved closer to the camera, allowing the light to shine on more of his body. His clothes were ragged and torn; like he'd been beaten in some battle he shouldn't have fought.
"I have created you-- my wonderful daughter-- to carry on my mission. To evolve the galaxy. Make them better than they are, because it is what they deserve."
He grew silent again. What else did he want to say?
He wasn't sure how long had passed since his last word, but eventually, he spoke again. "... I have unlocked access to every file in my database. Files on our plans, my old organization, and any hidden bases I had lying around Earth. Feel free to use them any way you like, my dear."
For a moment, he turned away from the camera, allowing his back to be shown. The backside of his head was blackened and burned, and the glass of his brain case had been warped.
"I will not force you to take on my mission, but I will simply implore you." He turned to the camera again, a sincere look in his eye. "Do it not just for me, dear Tanga. Do it for your dear mother Soufa. For your brother, Jeanne, and for his son, Traus. I failed them all. Do better than I did."
He clicked the camera off, and walked out of the room.
He couldn't remember what happened next.
