His hand trembled as he approached the door to the containment chamber, striving to mask his fear. If anyone, anyone at all, saw what he was about to do, if they even suspected a thing, he would have a dozen bullets flying through the back of his skull in a matter of seconds, before he'd even have a chance to put his hands up.
Shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, he inserted his keycard into the slot, anticipating the signature loud hiss that would signal the door's opening. If they wanted to kill him, now would be the time, most perfect. He had both his eyes closed and waited with bated breath, surging emotions; the conflicting thoughts of personeels catching sight of him, all weighing heavily on his shoulders. But they would not kill him. He knew that soon. What he was about to do—what he meticulously planned—was inevitable.
As he blinked, the memory dissolved like mist at dawn, leaving him momentarily disoriented in the stark reality that awaited him.
Dr. Rhys Stane sat in a cramped, cluttered office at the station, his face etched with worry.
Throughout the interrogation, his eyes stayed fixed on the floor, deliberately avoiding Haturii's piercing gaze. Just meters away, Haturii leaned casually on a nearby table, a silent challenge in his posture. It wasn't that the Foundation researcher couldn't muster the nerve to meet his eyes and lie—no, he was quite adept at that. He simply didn't think him worthy of such an effort.
"Do you have any idea what you've done? The chaos you've unleashed on us?! Why? Why release such a thing—a category 4, no less? The longer it's out there, the harder it will be to find and contain properly without arousing suspicion amongst the public."
"Except you don't want it contained. You're trying to kill it," he replied calmly.
"I'm only doing my job, and that involves protecting everyone's lives. Good grief, even the lives of those who pull off reckless stunts like this. People quite like you!" Haturii concluded. Frustration boiling over, he turned and, with a swift, furious motion, swept everything off the office table.
"That's what she wants you to believe," he held a rather long gaze towards the floor as he spoke. "Where's Aomorii? I SHOULD BE talking to her!"
"Chief Aomorii isn't here," Haturii replied, his patience with the Foundation researcher wearing thin. "She left with a few others after receiving calls about people found comatose, their bodies completely drained and devoid of Taiji. Know anything about that?" He paused, letting the silence stretch. "They said it's some sort of illness spreading like wildfire. But you and I know different. It's the Monster. It's doing something to them, isn't it?"
The man hesitated, and Haturii caught the careful evasion in Stane's next reply. It wasn't a direct refusal, nor was it an affirmation. All Stane offered was a vague, "I'm not sure what you mean."
That was the last straw.
Enraged, Haturii grabbed the Foundation researcher and forcefully pinned him against the wall. He had held back before, but now restraint was no longer an option. Letting the devil within take control? It seemed increasingly likely.
"Why? I want to know why," he demanded, his voice hardening. "Why did you do it? And don't you dare lie to me! Why release the creature? Are you trying to spell doom upon us? Are you trying to get us all killed? Is that it?"
"More like trying to save us from being killed," the researcher replied.
"What?"
"Ever delved into the realm of optogenetics?" The researcher began, his voice alive with intrigue. "It's a groundbreaking technique that empowers us scientists to selectively silence neurons within the brain. We wield this power particularly over the amygdala and hippocampus; the former, a nexus of emotional responses like anxiety, and the latter, a bastion of..."
"Memories. Precious memories," Haturii finished, his voice tinged with understanding.
He acknowledged with a knowing nod. "Yes, so you're familiar with it,"
"Why?" He fixed the researcher an intense stare. "What drives them to pursue this? What are they aiming to achieve?"
"To remember, the brain must actively choose to forget."
"Remember what precisely?" Haturii inquired, his gaze ablaze with a distinct curiosity.
He got his answer. "The past. Its origins, its unfolding—everything," the scientist replied earnestly. "The procedure aimed to uncover buried memories, to unlock minds, extracting any shred of information that could lead us to unraveling the one mystery that might mean everything..."
"Where do all these monsters originate." Haturii concluded, his voice tinged with realization.
"If we could pinpoint its origin, we might just gain an edge against the others. Yet, the concept, while intriguing, carries inherent risks, particularly when applied to a creature of this nature. There are bound to be repercussions, unforeseen consequences."
"What sort of repercussions?" Haturii probed further.
"Some of those memories—his memories—might be pleasant, Others less so. The surge of emotions, all-encompassing, could render him unstable, perhaps even perilous. You see, unlike most anomalies we've encountered, his senses, his abilities, they're already heightened," he explained, his gaze intense and unwavering as it met Haturii's. "To silence his brain's neurons would be akin to shutting down the human aspects that clash with the monstrous essence within him. It's a clash of opposing forces. Picture this; an untamed beast unshackled, fueled by raw aggression. It prowls with a primal instinct, devoid of self-awareness yet driven by an insatiable desire to fulfill its one singular purpose within the fleeting moments it holds dominion."
Hearing this, Haturii released his grip on the man and stepped back, struck with a mix of awe and apprehension.
"They had already initiated the procedure," the Foundation researcher continued solemnly after a momentary pause, gathering himself. He adjusted the lapels of his lab coat, smoothing out the few creases. "Fortunately, I arrived in time. Or at least, I fervently hope I did."
During his tenure at the Foundation, Dr. Stane had encountered a mantra repeatedly, echoing through the corridors like an unyielding refrain.
"RSCP: Rendezvous, Secure, Contain, and Protect. We catalogue, study, and secure thousands of phenomenons. Destruction is of last resort."
Reflecting on the mantra, Stane pondered whether every conceivable option had indeed been exhausted.
Was the Foundation truly poised to annihilate him alongside the anomaly? A creature that had wrecked untold havoc even before his recent containment breach for which he bore some responsibility? Was it just to hold him liable for the actions of a being that should have been neutralized by Foundation's standards so long ago?
Yet amidst these tumultuous thoughts, all Stane could focus on was offering reassurance to the man before him.
"And why are you sharing all this with me?" Haturii inquired, his voice steady despite the weight of the conversation.
"Because I want you to understand the gravity of what you're getting into, Deputy. To truly grasp it, I need to take you back through my share of experiences," Stane replied, stepping closer. "I was the one in charge of RSCP-004, so I know its reality intimately. I need you to look beyond its monstrous appearance, past the orc-like features, and see through its eyes for a change."
"RSCP-004," he began, "appears as a seemingly ordinary 12-year-old boy of average height and build, with striking green hair and bright amber eyes. But that's where the semblance of humanity ends. His skin is entirely green, mottled with darker patches. A small, green horn juts from his right forehead, and he exhibits severe homicidal tendencies when his pulse rises.
"RSCP-004 has demonstrated a genius-level ability to absorb knowledge from his opponents, making him exceptionally adaptable in any scenario. Yet, he harbors a strong aversion to shedding blood. His agility and reflexes far surpass human limits, and when enraged, he shows extensive resistance to damage in all forms. However, these superhuman abilities are significantly diminished in the absence of a full moon.
"Despite his human-like appearance, his true nature becomes painfully evident the closer one gets to him."
"From a distance," Stane continued, "the boy can can maintain some illusion of appearing human, however his appearance becomes less and less convincing as someone approaches. A little freaky, sure, but nothing to lose your mind over. The sight of an eerie, green, almost-human figure is enough to unsettle anyone, perhaps even cause significant discomfort, but this unease is unrelated to RSCP-004's anomalous abilities.
"RSCP-004 first came to the Foundation's attention when it crash-landed on a remote mountainside far east of here. It arrived in what resembled a chamber pod, though far more intricate and structured. Constructed of metal and ivory, its mechanical workings resembled those of the Industrial Revolution, yet far exceededly complex for something constructed in that time. At first, the nature of the creature eluded us—it emitted vibrant neon-blue particles crackling with escalating energy, each pulse more potent than the last, a mystery unfolding before our eyes.
"TAIJI," he concluded, the weight of the word lingering in the air.
"Our observers at the crash site reported whatever was housed in the strange pod had the potential to either power anything or destroy everything. To some, it was an energy source; to others, well, a means to pursue their selfish ambitions. I pleaded with them not to act rashly, but I suppose it's human nature to take and conquer. My superiors chose a more... aggressive approach," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "We managed to force it out of hiding, yes, but in doing so, we only fueled its existing anger. Once a docile creature, it had shown no inclination to escape. It appeared to be grieving. Yet, in a sudden transformation, it unleashed a ferocious battle rage, a primal fury unleashed. Its rampage left military encampments, launch facilities, and personnel devastated. Despite the carnage, the mission yielded crucial insights."
"What might that be?" Haturii echoed, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension, hanging on the precipice of discovery.
Dr. Stane nodded before continuing, his demeanor poised as if unveiling a long-guarded secret. "We learnt whatever the boy was, he appeared to be guarding something. And while his flesh and organs did seem to take damage as a result of the several barrage fired from helicopter mounted machine guns, all of it, all of that amounted to the strength of getting a mid-rate birthday clown's cheap cream pie to the face—a minor inconvenience. Unable to contain by any other means and desperate to stop him of his rampages, we resulted to extreme measures; hitting him with high doses of halothane gas, a potent, volatile anesthetic agent, delivered from a long ranged aircraft. This drastic approach worked, incapacitating him, but not without their causalities. And so, they took him to begin their experiments," he said, exhaling heavily.
"Of course, the RSCP Foundation's mandate has always been to contain and study the various anomalies it encounters. This mission was especially fervent in the organization's early days. So, once the creature was secured, a group of overzealous and eager scientists quickly stepped in to examine the anomaly. No one thought to investigate what the creature was so determined, so driven, to protect. It was forgotten. That is, until a man stumbled upon a discovery that would forever alter his perception of 'monsters'. Whether a stroke of genius or total folly, a risky move either way. He went to the site and saw it for himself. In that moment, he knew the truth."
"What? What did he see?"
"This," the researcher said, thrusting his hand into his pocket. He reached deep into his lab coat and pulled out an old silver pocket watch.
"And a dead body," he added, his voice barely a whisper. "A man's decomposing body."
The watch glinted ominously in the dim light, a relic from another time, now steeped in mystery and death.