The Rising Dawn, # 19— "The Drive"

[Short stories. Images generated by hotpot.ai]

The Magister, otherwise known as the Grecian, had obtained the Drive, the drug that was made using Outlier blood. Even the Shop couldn’t touch the potency of this formula, which gave Gifts to ordinary humans.

“I want to see it used first,” said Zane Frederick, the Magister. “Then we’ll try it on The Ice. She’s my most valuable operative.”

“What if the side effects don’t become apparent till later?” Said Holly, his best scientist.

So far, they had only five doses of the invaluable drug.

“That’s why I love my little Holly,” said Zane, “How long can we expect to wait till we know it’s clean?”

“The Sphinx swears it's clean,” said The Ice.

“The Sphinx used to swear to municipals that he made antidepressants and anti-psyches. He swears a lot of things.”

“Would he lie to the Magister?” said The Ice.

“We’ll give it one week,” said Zane, “Then we’ll give a taste to my hellcat.”

“I love it when you call me that,” said Leesha Stellar, known usually as The Ice.

Three volunteers of his best ‘hoplites’ entered the lab. One was Jacobson, an Anglo-Saxon known as Snake One. Snake Two was also a volunteer, his real name being Christian Garnis, of African descent. Garnis rejected his first name and even Garnis, fully adopting the name Snake Two, or just ‘Two’. The third volunteer was The Snipe, their best sniper. His real name was Ares Alexander, a Grecian.

“Ready for a test, boys?” said The Magister.

Snake Two said, “I’ve been waitin’ for this like Christmas.”

Snake One said, “I’ll be waiting for comp if this goes wrong.”

The Snipe said nothing.

Holly’s assistants readied the needles after following procedure.

Snake One said, “If this makes me an aspie, you’ll find an asp in your bed.”

“I’ll make sure to keep an antidote handy,” said The Magister, not frightened in the least.

“If you’re an aspie, you’d probably have some good excuses for failure,” said The Ice.

“Name three failures,” said Snake One, knowing only of two.

“He tried to drop a beat last Tuesday,” said Snake Two, “He was droppin’ it like it was cold.”

The Snipe said nothing.

The first to undergo injection was, quite appropriately, Snake One.

As it entered him, Leesha The Ice said, “Where’s Snake Three?”

The Magister said, “I didn’t want to risk all three Snakes.”

“But you’re risking The Snipe?”

“I let the Fates decide,” said The Magister.

Ice knew this was a curious form of Astrology and Tarot readings that Zane used to do things without making the choice himself. Although some found it ludicrous, Frederick would hear nothing of it, and so far, it seemed to always work.

Relatively speaking.

Snake One was reacting. His eyes narrowed to a pinpoint and he bucked with adrenaline, but he was held tight by bonds.

“This is normal,” said Holly, “He’ll cool down in a few minutes.”

After he stopped struggling and his breathing normalized, he was released.

“I can feel it,” said Jacobson, and he leapt like an oversized rat and landed on all fours, crouching. Then, he began demonstrating a series of martial arts techniques at hyperactive speed. “My body can match any physical activity I’ve witnessed, and more.”

“A man specializing in killing without guns. That’s not bad,” said The Magister.

After injecting the other two, Snake Two was found to be able to endure and regenerate grievous wounds, also dulling the pain thereof. It had limits, but they wouldn’t know what they were until more testing.

The Snipe, alrighty a highly trained Sniper, acquired the eyesight of a hawk, and it was later found that his precision with ballistic weapons, including sniper rifles, had increased to hyper-advanced levels.

“So after a week, I’ll get a taste?” said The Ice.

“Sounds like a good cautionary period,” said Frederick.

“Those doses didn’t come cheap,” said The Ice.

“We’ll water it down and sell it on the streets, and make it so they need more every time. Danny Boy will never see it coming.”

“That’s… diabolical.”

“That’s not a compliment,” said Zane, “But it is.”

“Greeks and warfare,” said the Ice, shrugging.

“The secret is to not boast, like the Irish.”

“I’ll make note of that,” said Ice, “What about the fifth dose?”

The Magister lit up a cigar.

“The fifth dose,” he said, “Is for me.”