C4 And in that corner ... Director Wyskwaird ... another evil master mind.
Meanwhile ... over in Beaver City...
Smack dab in the center of the heart of the city, a monolithic skyscraper prominently towers over every other building in the metropolis. Most people tend to look at this structure in awe; like it was some sort of beacon of hope and prosperity for the city ... not realizing that in actuality it may just very well be 'ground zero for the zombie apocalypse'.
This impressive skyscraper is the corporate headquarters of the Raincoat and Golashes Conglomerate...
But what's more impressive ... something which is unknown by most everyone except an inner circle of a select few ... is the concealed, underground, small-city-sized labyrinth; where highly, ethically questionable biological and chemical experimentation is carried out. This top-secret classified, restricted, clandestine area is known as The Lodge ... referring to a beaver's nest.
A virtual myriad of high-tech, mobile and immobile style, cameras are mounted throughout the expansive, underground facility in order to monitor over nearly every nook and cranny; constantly zooming in and panning out from just about every feasible angle. Right now, several dozen of these cameras are following the wickedly sinister-looking man with the overwhelmingly malevolent aura walking down the corridors leading to the second most highly restricted area in The Lodge.
This biochemical lab is designated to formulate the most virulent substances known to mankind, in order to become one step closer to world domination ... aka Satan's Workshop.
The man is Diector Wyskwaird ... pronounced 'Y squared' ... the director of a department so secretive in the Raincoat and Golashes Conglomerate that it doesn't even have a name. But be assured had it had a name, this department's name would certainly strike fear into the very core of everyone's heart ... after all, they basically oversee and run Satan's Workshop.
Inside the biochemical lab, there are nearly a dozen and a half researchers and assistants tediously working ... but in a meticulous fashion ... on the conglomerate's latest top-secret project; a drug which they have been modifying, and remodifying, over the past few months. Initially meant to be an anabolic steroid used by Olympic-bound to increase stamina and enhance every aspect of physical performance; one which would be undetectable by any drug-doping test out there ... it now has been slated for military use of those serving in special forces; not only for the aforementioned uses, but to also accelerate the regenerative a recuperative process of those wounded in action ... in a nutshell; to be used to create the perfect fighting soldier on the battlefield.
Without any prior indication ... the two, huge glass automatic doors slide open; and Director Wyskwaird enters the lab. Even without turning around, his powerfully domineering; almost omnipotent-like ... and ominous ... presence is instantly felt by everyone in the lab. The lead researcher in charge of the drug's development immediately leaves his station to greet the head of the department that calls the shots when it comes to Satan's Workshop...
"Director Wyskwaird; what brings you down here, today ... what can we do for you?"
Even with a stoical expression ingrained upon his countenance, Director Wyskwaird's exuding an aura of evil malevolence ... which is starting to unnerve the lead researcher ... and with a sardonic undertone he quips, in an indifferent inflection...
"I didn't realize that I needed a reason to pay a visit to the lab. And I'm sorry; have I been asking so much from you and your team that you automatically assume that I'm here looking for something for you to do for me?"
A sudden sense of trepidation rapidly overtakes him; fearing that he may have overstepped that proverbial line, and somehow offended the director. Tiny beads of sweat begin forming on the lead researcher's forehead, as a lump starts forming in his throat ... which he quickly swallows; then nervously apologizes in a wavering, cracking voice...
"N-no; I'm sor-sor-sorry ... of course you can come here whenever you wish, Director ... and I didn't mean to insinuate that you're demanding too much of us. I only meant to ask if there was anything that you wanted for us to do. Please don't..."
Director Wyskwaird sharply throws his hand up in front of him; and the corners of his lips slightly purse up, and display a condescending grin...
"That's quite alright; no need to apologize. Actually, I have come here to ask something of you and your team ... that is, if you have no objections."
"Of course not, Director; just name it, and we'll see that it's done."
"I'm glad you're so willing to comply..." the director begins pacing about the lab, keeping his hands cupped against the small of his back, "hopefully you'll be as equally successful, as you are willing, with fulfilling this task."
Director Wyskwaird ... still pacing about ... stops speaking for a brief moment before asking...
"Tell me; what do you believe is the greatest concern ... no; scratch that ... what do you think is the biggest problem that hinders a military operation?"
There's another moment of silence in the lab, as the research staff exchange quizzically uncertain glances back and forth to one another. Then, the lead researcher bravely takes a stab at answering the director...
"That would have to be when a soldier gets wounded during the operation. That was already determined by the higher-ups when they decided to change the direction of this project from being used by Olympic-bound athletes to military use; focusing not only on its physical enhancement effects on special forces members, but also to facilitate in accelerating their recuperative capabilities. That's why we've been working on remodifying this drug to hopefully be able to speed up the healing process of any injuries and wounds sustained in battle; preferably to the point of them having an almost instantaneous recovery."
Director Wyskwaird stops pacing; and with his back turned to the lead researcher ... still wearing that condescending grin ... replies...
"Wrong. ... Tsk, tsk; how could you call yourself the lead researcher when you don't even know the main issue which needs to be addressed?"
"But the higher-ups said that..."
The director curtly interrupts...
"Your so-called higher-ups wouldn't know their asshole from a hole in the ground. Saying that a wounded soldier in battle is the biggest problem during a military operation is only showing their short-sightedness to the bigger picture."
The lead researcher appears a bit baffled...
"I don't understand."
"You don't understand?" The Director Wyskwaird looks back at him. "Very well; allow me to explain."
The director begins to slowly pace about, again...
"Unless grievously injured, even a wounded would still be able to fight back; don't you agree?"
The lead researcher slowly nods. "I suppose."
"There's no suppose about it; it's true," The director adds, "As a matter of fact ... come to think about ... as tenacious as a cornered animal will fight back; a wounded, cornered animal is considerably more ferocious."
Dr. Wyskwaird pauses briefly to allow what he's just said to sink in before summing up...
"So, needless to say; a wounded soldier isn't a military operation's greatest hindrance ... a dead soldier is."
The lead researcher ... along with all the other researchers and lab assistants ... appear totally perplexed; all of them displaying demonstratively confounded expressions. And after another brief moment of uneasy silence throughout the lab, the lead researcher hesitantly asks...
"Director Wyskwaird ... what are you saying? What do you mean ...I don't understand. Just what exactly do you want from us?"
Director Wyskwaird stops pacing and stares at the lead researcher, as the corners of his lips now slightly purse up to contort into a sinister grin ... with that malevolently evil aura of his emanating out and permeating the atmosphere of the lab.
