“Devil incarnate,” Dr. Wallace whispered, seeing the scene unfold before his very eyes. A werebear! A damned werebear! Something he hadn’t seen since the last WereGames from the 1970s. “Are you seeing this, Dr. Delaney?” he whispered. The president himself had to know about this. This could revolutionize the military soldier testing.
Edith Delaney said nothing, but she stared in rapt attention. Standing inside that glass aquarium was a werebeing marvel, a werebear. He was an amazing creature to look at, with his dark brown fur, standing well over seven feet tall, with the paws and snarl to match. There was nearly nothing human left in him, except for his eyes. Dr. Delaney zoomed in on his eyes. They were still an icy blue, despite being tinged with yellow. She took another deep breath, wondering what was going to happen next.
Bartholomew had quickly stopped the electroshocks, and A129 was now prostrate on the floor.
“Is she still alive?” Dr. Delaney asked no one in particular. There were murmurs behind her.
“She’s still alive. Heart rate erratic. Currently at 45 beats per minute. Kidneys have damage.”
Dr. Delaney’s eyes glowered at Dr. Wallace.
Dr. Wallace didn’t look back at his peer. “Yes, Dr. Delaney. This was all for a good cause. Now, we have the first werebear in our hands. This changes everything.”
“This changes nothing. He’s still going to be sent to the games; he could still die.”
“He looks like a tough one to crack, Doctor,” Dr. Wallace said mildly. “It was reported that he had no records, that he was only some two-bit crook working under a mafia man. This test subject, and soon to be participant, was actually a boy we’ve been searching for, for more than ten years. Ryker Locklear, adopted by a Native American Indian couple in Oregon. He was last seen escaping from a supposed easy retrieval, as there had been growing concerns that a werebear was among a population of werewolves and werefoxes. My, my, how the fates have conspired against our escapee.”
Dr. Wallace smiled at the memory of hunting the little boy down. He hadn’t killed the boy’s adoptive parents personally, but he had seen everything that had transpired that night and how they set off a yearlong manhunt for a kid. It had cost the government millions of dollars, and it was as if he had disappeared off the grid for good, (or permanently turned into a bear cub, the other scientists joked). He had been pining for the day that he would actually see a werebear once more, and not just on television.
“Congratulations,” Dr. Delaney said drily.
“Finally, we can get that well-deserved leave,” Dr. Wallace told them, smiling.
He was texting on his phone, and Dr. Delaney wasn’t sure who it was, but she knew it was a report. The rest of the staff were feverishly making reports, recording every inch of data they could. Subject X014 was currently slamming his body against the glass walls, and they shuddered from his impact. Those were reinforced glass walls, but it looked like they couldn’t withstand his constant banging. He roared, angry at being imprisoned, ignoring the fact that there was another person inside.
Suddenly, Ryker shifted, and he turned to see the girl. She was still unconscious. His eyes blazed, and Dr. Delaney realized what was happening.
“Get her out! Get A129 out!” Dr. Delaney shouted.
Dr. Wallace looked at Edith. “Your problem now.”
Bastard, Dr. Delaney thought, her nerves racing against time. X014 was walking slowly toward Alexia, its paws gently lumbering on the floor. A machine quickly placed a portable gas mask over Alexia’s nose and mouth.
“Releasing halothane,” another announced.
Immediately, the room was filled with the clear and near odorless anesthetic gas, but X014 still walked straight for Alexia, using its hind legs. This filled Dr. Delaney with trepidation. He wasn’t crashing down, and the gas was potent enough to knock out twenty men in seconds.
“What’s going on?” Delaney demanded.
“His vital signs are stable, Doctor,” one informed her.
“Well, then why isn’t he knocked out by now?” Delaney snapped. “Get the artillery ready.”
“Artillery?” Dr. Wallace repeated. “You are not touching that test subject.”
“And that test subject is not touching my test subject!” Delaney seethed.
Just as she looked back, she saw Ryker’s steps slowing down, as if he was dragging his body with difficulty.
“You have little faith in our research, Edith,” Dr. Wallace told her as Ryker collapsed from the effects of the fumes.
He watched as Ryker closed his eyes. With the loss of consciousness, any werebeing reverted to his or her human form. The fur completely disappeared, and in its place was a naked test subject, covered in scratch marks that he had afflicted on himself.
“And he’s out,” Dr. Wallace finished. “This will make for an interesting WereGames, don’t you think?”
Edith stared at Dr. Wallace as he slowly paraded out of the room in high spirits. She had almost collapsed in fear of seeing Alexia threatened beyond her control.
Some of the medical staff had already begun procedures of retrieving Alexia first, and then dousing the aquarium with another batch of halothane just to make sure. The fact that it had taken so long for the werebear to succumb to the anesthesia was groundbreaking. He had a higher threshold than most werebeings put together. Most of them broke after mere interrogation. The animal in them couldn’t be contained for long.
She had thought of cross-examining Ryker just before the WereGames began. The boy had an interesting psyche. She planned on going through his files later on, whatever she could get her hands on. This werebear was going to be famous, whether he wanted to be or not.
*
“A werebear,” the man with graying hair repeated. He was seated on his desk, reading through files, dressed in a bespoke, black satin suit. His shoes were polished to perfection. He had an aura of old-world dignity around him, with his gray eyes and patrician nose. He spoke in a chilling tone, and there was no kindness in it. “A werebear, you say?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Dr. Wallace repeated. He stood beside the two other generals who facilitated the program.
“I haven’t heard of one in years…” President Caledon murmured. Then he gave a brief smile. “I guess we’re truly in for a show this year, aren’t we?”
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Wallace responded. “We do have some concerns about a few tests-”
“Which I know you can handle better than I can. I only ask that you produce the best soldiers for me, whoever wins the tournament. These werewolves have a pack mentality, and sad to say, a few exercises overseas failed to produce the results I wanted.”
Dr. Wallace nearly winced at the president’s words, and so did the generals with him. It was still fresh in their minds, the disaster off the coast of Somalia. Each country used werebeings to the best of their ability, and they (the recent government) had claimed they were the forerunners of genetically engineered soldiers who were far more proficient than the rest of the nations combined. These men weren’t completely dispensable, yet. Cloning produced mediocre results and skills, so the project was scrapped for a while. The games were meant to be a show for the world to see that their country was handling the werebeing phenomena in the best way possible.
Ask not what you can do for your country… Wallace thought. “Do we save the werebear, in the event he won’t make it?”
“By all means. Werebears are the most uncontrollable of all, are they not? And the most blood thirsty,” Caledon said, pressing on the intercom. “Tea, please.”
A uniformed butler came in the room, pushing a gilded cart with a fine china tea set on the tray. He placed these on a round table adjacent to the president’s rectangular office table. He left thereafter.
President Caledon stood up. “Tea, gentlemen?”
Dr. Wallace was a coffee person, but he nodded.
“Tea and coffee. These are choices we must make, just like how we must make choices that benefit the populace,” President Caledon said.
The men said nothing as President Caledon poured them tea. He beckoned for them to sit down. The men sat down and took their teacups, sipping the fresh brew quietly.
“I personally love oolong,” President Caledon began. “You know how oolong leaves get their withering look? It’s oxidized and placed under the heat of the sun, the strongest rays, I assume. Then the best tea makers roast it. Roast to obtain the bitterness and strength that oolong is known for. And this, gentlemen, is what you’re drinking today.”
There was something chilling about the way he explained how tea was made. It was matter-of-factly said, but it meant something more than that.
“Now, I understand that there have been failures with the program. It’s costly and, more importantly, it shows our weakness,” President Caledon said, “and that’s something we can’t afford.”
“We’ve been doing our best-” one general began.
“Yes, doing your best. It’s an utter failure,” President Caledon interrupted him. “How many years have you been serving the government, General Laxly?”
“Twenty-two, Mr. President,” Laxly replied.
“And in those twenty-two years of loyal service, has it ever occurred to you that my patience is running thin?”
“We’ll make sure the next phase goes well,” the other general said.
Caledon looked at each of them with his frosted gaze. “But of course. This is for the people, after all.”