C1 Something Like a Prologue

(NOTE: The following book is a parody; therefore, don't take too seriously or think too much while reading it. It is meant to be entertaining and fun; so please enjoy it as it's meant to be.)

The location ... a remote, secret, hybrid medical research / military facility located several miles from the surrounding suburbs of Beaver City - although in actuality, with its twelve-foot high, electrical fence, with barbed wire coiled atop it, running along the full parameter of the base; along with the strategically positioned gun towers with M-60 machine guns affixed to rotating turrets ... it's hard to consider this as being a 'secret facility'. It kinda sticks out like a sore thumb, being the only facility standing in the middle of nowhere ... but sometimes this is what it comes down to when dealing with matters of so-called 'military intelligence'.

Inside one of the facility's lounges, your stereotypical, 'cookie-cutter' mad scientist / doctor-types is surrounded by a small group of your run-of-the-mill, lackey-type lab assistants, watching NNC ... the News Network Channel ... while waiting for 'the package' to arrive. The anchorman just announces...

"The CDC and World Health Organization has issued out an official statement saying that scientists and researchers are on the verge of a vaccine which could possibly eradicate the A.Y.A.V. ... standing for And Yet Another Variation ... strain of the Covid-19 virus; the latest, and hopefully the last variant of this deadly virus. Because if successful; hopeful officials are already boasting that this may well be the last we see of Covid-19, as we know it..."

A nefarious smirk emerges upon the research scientist's thinly narrow, pale lips. He ambiguously utters in an ominous tone...

"Oh, they soon may see the last of the Covid-19 virus ... but what they're about to see next will be something unfathomable; something that they couldn't even imagine in their worst nightmares."

One of the assistants then asks...

"I'm sorry, Dr. X ... did you say something?"

Dr. X ... who really had no intention of saying that aloud, but unfortunately has always been a blabber mouth since he was a kid; and subconsciously winds up spilling his guts ... immediately clears his throat...

"Ahhemm ... Oh, did I say that out loud ... I didn't mean to. Just forget about what you might have heard."

Another one of his assistants criticizingly suggests...

"For crying out loud, Dr. X ... as if your name isn't a dead giveaway in and of itself ... if you really want to be a successful mad scientist, you'll need to kick that habit of speaking out whatever's on your mind and be more mindful of your words. Come on; how many times do I have to tell you this?"

Perturbed by his run-of-the-mill, lackey-type lab assistant nagging ... while also being slightly embarrassed over being called-out by his subordinate, yet once again ... Dr. X snaps back...

"I know; I know ... sometimes I can't help it; but I'm working on it."

The critical lab assistant goads, "Well; looks like you need to work on it a little harder there, Doc."

Dr. X rebukingly glares at the critical lab assistant...

"Look here, you sniveling, little..."

Suddenly over the P.A. system...

"Attention, Dr. X ... Attention, Dr. X ... Your 'package' will be delivered shortly. Again, your 'package will be delivered shortly. ... Please meet up with the base commander in Bay C, on Sub-level 2. Again, please meet up with the base commander in Bay C, on Sub-level 2. ... That is all."

Dr. X; who's eager to receive his 'package' ... along with his assistants in close tow ... immediately heads off to meet up with the base commander in Bay C, on Sub-level 2; because just like the announcement stated, 'that is all'.

Shortly ... a huge, military cargo plane flies at a fairly low altitude; with its six large, propeller engines reverberatingly rumbling, as it cuts across the early afternoon sky. Yeah ... not really being what one may consider inconspicuous; again, especially not enough to consider this being a secret facility. Seriously, are these locals in the area totally oblivious; or what?

The plane's propeller engines emit one last booming roar, as its wheels touch down on the runway; and barrels down the lengthy asphalt stretch, until coming to a resounding, screeching halt on the tarmac. Then the tail end gradually opens, as the hydraulic ramp slowly lowers to the ground. Soon ... a large two-and-a-half-ton deuce truck, with its back covered, quickly rolls down the ramp; and then speeds over to the tunnel leading down to Bay C, on Sub-level 2.

Within a couple of minutes, the truck arrives at the overly spacious bay area; and rolls over and pulls up to the awaiting party. The back flaps of the truck's cover are brusquely pushed open, and a few heavily armed, military police members hop down; and quickly set up a portable ramp from the back end of the vehicle to the ground. After that, the 'package' is rolled down the ramp.

The 'package' is securely affixed to an upright handcart with thick iron chains. Underneath the layer of chains, the 'package' is bound in a strait jacket; with its arms tightly pressed along its sides. There is a thick, leather guard piece covering its mouth; with the guard piece's straps being securely buckled behind its neck.

Quizzical expressions overtake the lab assistants' countenances; and one of them eventually quips...

"So, what do we have here; a 'Hannibal Lecter' wanna be knock-off? Don't tell me; if we're not careful, he'll cut out and sauté our livers ... serving them along with a nice Kiante wine?"

One of the armed escorts informs him...

"Nah ... this guy just has a disgustingly nasty habit of biting his nails. we wanted to keep him from ripping them off while on the way over here."

There's a momentary silence, before the lab assistant replies...

"Wow ... talk about your anti-climactic let down."

They suddenly hear 'the 'package' mutter from under the mouth guard piece...

"Hey, butt-munch ... how about you take this thing off my mouth so I can chew off your fingernails! I'll scoff them down with a side serving of chunky picante sauce!"

The base commander authoritatively bellows, as he orders the armed escorts...

"Take this whacko freak to his holding cell ... hurry up and get him out of my site!"

They quickly roll the 'package' away to the detention ward. The base commander mutters aloud...

"God damn sicko." He turns to Dr. X. "Doc ... are you sure about this?"

"Am I sure about what?"

"That this experimental drug of yours will be able to rid the world of all these strains of Covid-19?"

This time Dr. X manages to keep all of his malevolent intentions to himself; not allowing anything that shouldn't be heard to slip through those thinly narrow, pale lips of his. He nonchalantly tells the clueless base commander ... not necessarily clueless about everything that's going on at the facility, but in this case merely oblivious to Dr. X's evil, master plan; although, truth be told, in this scenario, it would be better that our base commander was oblivious to everything else going on at the facility, and be aware of Dr. X's evil, master plan...

"Well, Commander ... I can't say that I'm absolutely sure about it; this is why we're calling it an experimental drug. And why we'll first be testing it out on that ... what was it now ... 'whacko freak', 'God damn sicko' as you called him, I believe?"

"Right ... about that..." A grave expression overtakes the base commander's countenance, as he inquires, "tell me honestly, Doc; is it really ethical for us to be testing this drug on a human being ... even if that human being is an abomination of nature ... shouldn't we be testing it out on some lab rats, or something?"

Dr. X adamantly lashes out at the base commander...

"Are you crazy, man?! Do you really want those animal rights activists breathing down our necks, crying that we're mistreating those poor, innocent animals; huh ... well, do you? I mean, please ... those 'tofu eating', 'tree hugging', 'electric car driving' bleeding-heart liberals cry bloody murder every time cosmetics companies test their beauty products for allergens on rabbits."

The base commander's previously grave expression almost instantly softens, as his visage rapidly contorts into one of that like an enthralled, wide-eyed, goofy schoolboy. He animatedly exudes in a youthful, child-like fashion...

"Aw ... there's nuttin' cuter than an itsy-bitsy, bunny-wunny wearing lipstick and eye shadow."

Dr. X wholeheartedly concurs, "I know; right."

The two stand there for another brief moment with giddily goofy expressions on their faces; before coming around and quickly recomposing themselves to their usual adult selves. They simultaneously clear their throats...

"Ahhemm, hemm, hemm, hemm."

Dr. X tries to convince the base commander that it's not only fine, but also necessary to test the experimental drug on humans...

"Besides ... what good will it do to test the drug on animals, when this vaccine needs to be used on humans? We need to know its effects on the human physiology ... not on that of a rat's; or even a monkey's."

The base commander displays a faux-ponderer's expression on his visage, as he repeatedly rubs his chin between his thumb and index finger for a brief moment...

"Hmm ... I suppose you're right about that, Doc."

"Of course, I'm right..." Dr. X displays a barely noticeable, slight nefarious grin across his thinly narrow, pale lips. "Trust me; I know what I'm doing, Commander."

A sudden, inexplicable uneasy feeling overtakes the base commander ... too bad he isn't a woman, because then he might attribute this strange sensation as being his ... or rather her ... 'women's intuition'; and would allow himself ... or rather herself ... to be more wary of Dr. X's sinister aura; instead of just blowing it off as a case of some sort of uncalled for, impromptu heebie-jeebies. He quickly shakes that feeling off and tells Dr. X...

"Well then; I'll let you get to it, Doc. I'll check in with you some other time and see if you're making any headway ... see how things are progressing."

The base commander walks away ... leaving Dr. X standing there contemptuously glaring at him with a wicked sneer on his face, while sardonically uttering...

"I can't wait; you pathetically ignorant 'jar head'."

The critical lab assistant is quick to correct Dr. X...

"Ahem ... a 'jar head' is a nickname for a marine. The base commander is in the army."

Dr. X seems a bit perplexed...

"So; then ... 'leatherneck'?"

"Also, a marine."

Dr. X exasperatedly huffs. ""Flatfoot'?"

The lab assistant rolls his eyes...

"Oh, come on ... you're not even trying, now."

Dr. X angrily snaps, "Bite me!"