#rtar

CHAPTER 3

The lab was peacefully quiet as the sun began to rise into the Louisiana skies, its heavenly rays leaking in through the windows and onto the various equipment and tables, giving the otherwise desolate and sterile laboratory a strangely warm, inviting aura, like a hug from one’s mother. The two scientists, still asleep in their warm cots, moved not one inch-- at least Jonathan did not, for as soon as the warm beams from the sun hit Fredrick’s face, he slowly began to wake up from his slumber, anticipating finding himself in his own comfy bed in his own home in New Arabi, hoping that the loss of his only child was nothing but a nightmare, but unfortunately, this was not the case, for as soon as Fredrick’s eyes fluttered open, he was met with the barely illuminated ceiling and walls of the Baton Rouge lab.

He stayed in his cot for a little while, still trying to gather his senses after his long sleep and trying to keep warm against the winter cold creeping in. He looked over to the other cot where Jonathan was still sleeping, curled up into a little ball, like how a house-cat would sit, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth while his blue glasses were folded and neatly placed beside his pillow. Fredrick couldn’t help but smile at the sight, as old childhood memories of sleepovers began to come back. He remembered how Jonathan would always come over to Fredrick’s house on the weekends, wearing a baggy white cotton sweater, with a big container of cheese balls and a grocery bag of video games for them to play. It was a time when they were just kids and didn’t have to worry about things like spikers or korsa or anything besides getting good grades in school and not getting in trouble- or at least getting caught. How he longed to experience those memories once again, but he knew that those days are long gone, and have been for years now. He’s 43 now, about to turn 44 on March 12, what good would it do to dwell on the past, especially when there is work to be done? Carefully and quietly, he got out of his cot, and stretched before scratching at his beard. He then remembered breakfast, such an important meal. What would they have, Fredrick thought to himself. Was there even anything there for them to eat? He then remembered that he and the rest of his former collegues had put together a ration closet in the event that there was an emergency that required them to stay inside, such as a bomb or a hurricane. He then tip-toed toward a door, vaguely remembering where the closet was, and slowly opened it to find that, sure enough, there it was, and all the rations looked practically untouched, still in their packages and cans. 

“Good, at least we don’t have to run down to no stores or anything” He whispered to himself, pulling the rations out one by one to see what they had, the majority of it being soups like chicken noodle soup, loaded potato soup, clam chowder, and other canned goods like corn, carrots, canned peaches, while some rations were packaged, like classic military MREs, cheese crackers, chicken crackers, chicken ramen noodles, and there was also a 24-pack of bottled water and a 24-pack of Kimberly-Kola. He picked up a can of Kemper Brand chicken noodle soup, planning to eat it, when he remembered that the rations had been there since well around 2025. He wasn’t about to let him or his best friend get food poisoning, so to test it, he cracked open the can with a can-opener, and took a big sip out of the broth. It tasted perfectly fine, nothing that could be considered rotted or rancid in soup standards. At least we know its safe, he thought to himself as he took another bite. Within a moment, the flourescent lights came on and a shadow was looming from behind him, causing him to jump and swiftly turn around to see who- or what- was behind him.

It was only Jonathan, leaning against the threshold of the enterance into the room on his elbow, the light from the bulbs reflecting off of his thin round sapphire blue glasses as he tried his best to shake off his slumber. They said nothing for a couple of seconds, before Jonathan spoke.

“Mm.. morning, Fredrick..” He muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before noticing what fredrick had.

“Oh, Mornin’, Jonathan! I forgot all about us having this ration closet! We got all kinds of good stuff in here! Chicken noodle soup, Kimberly-Kola, Water, crackers, you name it- its all still good! We even got paper plates and bowls and silverware!” Fredrick beamed as he beckoned Jonathan to sit down for breakfast, to which jonathan did just that. He scanned his eyes over at the various cans and boxes and bottles, finally choosing to have the same thing Fredrick was having, Chicken noodle soup.

“Welp- heres to our first breakfast in the lab!” Fredrick toasted as he and jonathan clinked their cans together, drinking the broth and eating the chicken and noodles. For one since everything happened, Fredrick felt right at home eating one of his favorite foods with his most trustworthy friend. Plans for the initiation of the project could wait until afterwards, he thought to himself. They spent the next few minutes of their time chittering amongst themselves as they had their meal together. It wouldn’t be long until Fredrick noticed the clock- which he had put new batteries in and set the time straight, read 8:30 in the morning.

“8 o’clock already, eh Jonathan?” He muttered through sleep-filled vocal chords as he scraped the remainder of the chicken out of the can. Jonathan nodded, smiling as he finished up his can before throwing it into the garbage bin. 

“Yeah, time sure flies when you’re asleep, huh?” Jonathan chortled, to which fredrick grinned. But then he finally recollected the project plan.

“Oh, Jonathan, we need to conduct our first experiment today.” “Oh, right.. Where will we get a subject again?” “The Carnagie Funeral home in New Gonzales. They’re the only funeral home in the southern part of Louisiana that’ll take spiker victims because the venom’s so powerful. You remember Simon Carnagie, I think he worked with us on Project Prometheus?” “Oh yeah, i remember him! Tall, green eyes, blonde?” “Yeah, you got him right! He used to research the spikers after they captured some strays before 2031. He ended up making a bunch of things out of the DNA and parts of the spiker- in fact, I think he was the one that invented Spiker Leather, and he found a way to distill the venom to make alcohol out of it!” “Yeah, i remember him perfectly now! He always seemed to like you a bit better then me, didn’t he?” “I bet that was just because his older brother, Phil, got his arm bl0wn off in the Slaughter of Baja, and i was the one who gave him his new cybernetic one. He always thanked me for it whenever he got the chance. I wonder how they’re doing now-- i haven’t seen those two in ages!”

“I guess theres only one way to find out… you still got the ice chest in the truck?” “I brought it back out after i put her in the cryo-chamber.” “Alright, well i think we got all we need, huh?” Jonathan asked as he stood up, stretching his arms and legs before helping Fredrick up. Fredrick nodded.

“Alright, so now, all we need to do is drive to see the Carnagie Brothers and ask them for some assistance.” “Got it.”

They then put their day-shirts and belts back on and walked outside of the lab, and within an instant, they were subjected to the bitter winter temperatures that winter-time Louisiana had to offer. Fredrick, who was a bit more resistant to the cold, did not mind. However, Jonathan was in pure agony, shivering like a leaf in a hurricane, his eyes rapidly darting every which way. Fredrick, noticing this, stopped in his tracks, and turned right around

“I’ll be back, i’m getting us some lab coats. It might warm you up.” “O-oh, d-don’t w-worry a-b-bout me-” Jonathan stuttered through chattering teeth, but Fredrick only shook his head and put his hand up.

“Don’t “I’ll be fine” me, Jonathan. You need to keep warm. We both need to keep warm.” He huffed before running back into the lab, grabbing some large paper-white lab coats, and running back out. 

“Here, t-take it- i think they’re all the same size.” Fredrick grumbled as he put on one of the labcoats, to which Jonathan sheepishly followed, his face turning pink from either Fredrick’s kind gestures or the careless frigid winds. They then jumped back into Fredrick’s chevy, and pulled back onto the roads.

“You know where New Gonzales is, right Fredrick?” “Yeah, I’ve been there before once, and im fairly certain that its to the west of baton rouge, maybe a little more southward? Yeah, i know where to go.” “Thank god, because i sure don’t!” Jonathan chuckled as he looked out the window and onto the landscape, lush with life. Within the minute, they were back on the road again, this time heading towards New Gonzales, a newly sprung city that moved from Gonzales after a spiker venom water poisoning. When they finally arrived, they noticed the stores and businesses were lined up in uniform lines, lights danced across the tops of buildings alongside neon signs for bars, clubs, drug stores and around streetlights, and train tracks could be seen in the distance that were once used to carry korsa and other materials and goods, a reminder of better times.

“Wow… this place looks awesome, Huh Fredrick?” Jonathan guffawed as he looked out the window like a child going to a theme-park. Fredrick smiles and chuckled, looking at his surroundings before turning his eyes back on the road.

“Heh! Yeah, it sure is! We should go to one of these places here some time!” Fredrick chortled as he drove, eventually making it to the Carnagie Funeral Home, a fancy brown-brick building with an even classier sign that read:

Carnagie Funeral Home

New Gonzales, LA

Simon Carnagie, Owner

Phillip Carnagie, Co-Owner

504-555-4327

“Alright Jon, here we are..” Fredrick sighed as they both took off their seatbelts and made their way into the establishment.

The interior was magnificent, with brown wood panels gliding alongside the lower-half of the wall, while the upper half was coated in pearly white paint, with painted pictures of flowers and beautiful scenery and wall-lights adorning them, while the floor was covered by a dark-nude weaved carpet. Sitting at the desk was a woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a loose bun, the only parts of her one could see was her cherry pink blouse, a black camisole underneath, and a gold bangle that rested around her wrist, with a look upon her face that screamed “I really wish i weren’t here right now.”

“Hello, welcome to the Carnagie Funeral home..” The woman droned monotonously while glaring at the two gentleman with uninterest. “Would you like to set up an appointment?”

“Er, No ma’am, We’d like to see Mr. Carnagie, if possible.” Jonathan answered, putting one of his hands into his pocket nervously.

“Sir, You’ll have to set up an appointment if you wish to see Mr. Carnagie-” The bored woman began to say, but was quickly interrupted by the opening of the door behind her, and out from behind walked out a tall skinny man with sandy slicked-back blonde hair, with black thick-rimmed glasses standing in front of his pale-green eyes, tiny little freckles scattered across his cheeks like stars, with a grey suit that accentuated his skinny yet toned form in a modest, classy manner. As soon as he had stepped out, he noticed his former collegues, and his eyes light up.

“Fredrick?! Jonathan?!” His chipper voice rang as he walked over to them, making little grasping motions with his hands. The woman looked at the man with confusion.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Cindi, I Know these people!”

“Hey, Simon! How’s the business going?” Fredrick asked with a smile as he shook Simon’s hand. Simon grinned.

“Its all going well so far! How have you been?” he began to ask before stopping himself, a guilty look crossing his face “Ah, Sorry- that was a stupid question- i know what happened..” He muttered, being the one who drained Olivia of the Spiker venom before treating her.

“Hey, its fine, Simon. Thank you for asking anyway. Er- may we come into your office for a moment? Theres.. Something important we need to ask of you.. A favor, if you will.”

“Well of course! Come in, come in!” Simon chirped as he held the door open for the two gentlemen. As they entered, they noticed that the Carnagie Brother’s office looked different then the main lobby, as this room had dark grey walls with a dark blue weaved carpet, and a brown oval table with 4 chairs, one of them being occupied by a tall salt-and-peppered haired heavy-set man with blue eyes, wearing a dark blue button-up shirt with caramel brown overalls and work boots, holding a book with one cybernetic arm.

“Hey Phil! Remember Fredrick and Jonathan? They’re here to see us!”

The man jumped, red in the face and swiftly closed his book and looked over, covering the cover-art with his organic hand, but after seeing the two men, he relaxed.

“Oh…. Ey, How ya doing, Fred?” Phil laughed as he got out of his chair to give Fredrick and Jonathan a firm handshake before the gentlemen sat down. They talked for a couple of minutes, catching up with each other, until Simon finally asked:

“So Fredrick, what were you going to ask me?” He questioned with an interested, almost excited look on his freckle-scattered face.

“Ah, Yes.. Well… Me and Jonathan, we’re doing a project in our… well.. We-” He stuttered, trying to find the right words to describe what he was doing and what he needed, until Jonathan finished his sentence for him.

“Fredrick and I are attempting to bring back the dead with Cybernetics and robotics, and we figured that you may have some folk that.. Y’know, don’t have any family or anything, that we could use to run the first tests.” He spoke quickly, wiping off his glasses lens on his turtleneck before putting them back on his head. Simon paused for a bit, bewildered at the macabre string of words that came out of Jonathan’s mouth. Bringing back the dead? Playing God? What kind of experiments are these two gentlemen doing?, he thought to himself. Phil However, saw an opportunity to make some cash.

“How much y’all willing to pay for one of these folk?” Phil questioned, looking over at his younger brother.

“I suppose we’ll pay $700.” Fredrick gruffed, making sure his wallet was in his coat pocket. Phil nodded, and gestered to the two gentlemen to follow him out back into a morgue in a repurposed warehouse, where the dead were kept in drawers in freezing temperatures. The three men walked past these countless drawers until Phil stopped at one marked “133”, before opening it, revealing a pale man with slicked back black hair with a widow’s peak, a slim face and nose and closed eyes, with a hospital bag of belongings near his feet.

“This fella right here? We found him outside the alleyway about 3 days ago, looked like he had a heart attack, and no-one’s claimed him, so we went ahead and treated him with the anti-rotting solution, and we were probably either going to bury him in an unmarked grave or just cremate him until y’all came along. He also had some stuff on him, but it was all in some kind of Cryllic script, so he was probably a lost Russian or a Belarusian or some other eastern european.” “That's alright, it don’t matter to me if they’re Russian or American. Hell, they can be from the moon, for all I care!” Fredrick chuckled as Jonathan left to go get the ice-chest. After he came back, Fredrick gave the 700 dollars to Phil, and shook his hand.

“Fredrick, I don’t know what the hell you’re planning, but I hope you know what you’re doing.” Phil sighed as he helped Jonathan put the man into the ice-chest and handed the bag of belongings to Fredrick.

“Don’t worry, Phil. All it is is just a little augmentation and electricity. You know how I replaced your arm after it got it blown off?” “Uh, Yeah..?”

“Its exactly like that, but on a much larger scale..” Fredrick explained, looking up into his eyes with intent. Phil nodded, not wanting to know the rest of the details because frankly, he wouldn’t, and couldn’t understand at the same level Fredrick could- he was just one of the people he worked on back in the 2020’s. Besides, this could rake in more cash.

“Well, Fredrick, if thats what you want, I guess I can’t stop you. You have a good rest of your day, and be careful!” Fredrick nodded and grinned, and he and jonathan walked back to Fredrick’s truck from the back, placed the ice-chest in the back seat, and drove back to the lab.

After they had arrived back at the lab, Fredrick and Jonathan took a minute to just sit in the truck before they went in. they both sat in the front seats, the heater blowing on their face and feet, considering what they should do next.

“...So this is it, huh? Only one thing left to do before this whole project truly starts?” Jonathan pondered as he layed back in his seat, looking out the window and through the rocks. Fredrick nodded and sighed, but not out of sorrow or boredom, but out of worry. Even he knew that this had a 50/50 chance of working, and if it truly worked, if that body in the chest rose from the dead, if its consciousness gets thrown back into its body by machine and electricity, he would be the one responsible. I must remain positive, he thought to himself. I won’t know if it will work until I try Besides, this is a big leap for science!

“Yeah, Jonathan.. This is it… we’re so close, can you feel it? We’re going to be the first two men in the history of mankind to bring back the dead!”

“Heh, I sure can feel it!...”

“..Alright, Jon, Ya ready? Its time for some science!” They got out of the truck, and they both carried the chest inside, the chest being heavier now than it was when Olivia was inside.

“Dear god, how heavy is this sunuvab1tch?!” Jonathan groaned as he helped Fredrick carry it. Fredrick huffed and complained also.

“Hell, Jonathan. He’s gotta be like- what- 230 at most? Agh, i gotta start lifing more weights!” “Hah! Me too, Fredrick. Me too.”

When they finally made it inside the operation room, Fredrick and Jonathan Disrobed the man, leaving nothing but his black boxers. Afterwards, Fredrick went deeper into the laboratory to get a box of cybernetic parts, while Jonathan brought out the many machines, memory needles, memory scanners, and whatnot. He had just finished bringing out the last machine, and when he looked up, he found Fredrick standing there, his lab coat all buttoned up, wearing scarlett red rubber gloves, and red-tinted goggles that only looked red on the outside.

“Wow, Fredrick. You even got the Mad Scientist outfit going on! H-heh!”

Fredrick chuckled warmly at Jonathan’s jeering before walking over to the man. He scanned his eyes over him, noting the pale color of his skin, the utter lack of movement, the face not having a single expression whatsoever. But this would soon change. Those bones would soon wriggle from the grasp of death and move about once more, that jaw would soon be moving with every word and noise the man would make, that face of his would soon be contorting with expressions of glee, of sadness, of disgust, whatever he felt, his face would show. 

“Are you ready, Jonathan…..?” Fredrick asked as he readied the two Memory Needles in hand, getting ready to stick them in the man’s skull.

“Ready when you are, Fredrick.”

Then, carefully yet swiftly, Fredrick Pierced the man’s skull and brain with the sticks, and he turned on the Baroque-Brand Memory Machine. Memories from the brain turned into .MRF Files quite quickly, and were quickly loaded up on the screen.

“Wow, i’m surprised none of these are corrupted, seeing as how Phil said they picked him up 3 days ago. But then again, they did use that Anti-decay formula, didn’t they?” “Thats what they said, at least… do you want to see what they all entail?” “Er.. not yet.. We have to focus on the sugery for now, now that theres holes in the body.” Fredrick huffed as he readied his scalpel…

Now that the man was open, all the organic parts were there for the scientists to see. Fredrick, a major in anatomy and cybernetics, knew exactly where each part should go, and which parts needed to be replaced.

First, he took out the heart, and in its place rested a new artificial heart, and he soon followed with replacing the rest of the organics. Lungs, Livers, Pancreases, Intestines, kidneys-- all were thrown out and replaced with their superiors, screwed in and welded on. The smell of it all would be enough to make the average man hurl, but these two scientists knew the scent very well from the days of Project Prometheus, when replacing limbs and organs was an everyday event akin to getting your morning coffee. Now, it was second nature, a simple formality one must get through.

Fredrick then replaced the man’s veins with fine tubing, and shot a mix of synthetic blood into the veins and heart that would soon pump it through the man’s body. After all was said and done, he stepped back to look upon his work, and the scientist smiled.

“Now, all we need to do is sew him up, and view his memories… at least that will be easy, huh, Jonathan?” Fredrick sighed as he began sewing up the Y-incision he had made in the man’s chest. Jonathan nodded, and looked through the files, many of them entailing Military operations, battles, and many of them being too violent and grisly to describe with human language, yet some were more “Normal” in today's standards, such as training soldiers, eating MRES, and other miscellaneous events.

“Hm. looks like he was a soldier, or a general.” Jonathan mumbled, while Fredrick looked through the bag of the man’s belongings, which included medals, a mini photo album, a satchel and wallet, and a pair of dogtags in a miniature plastic bag.

“Yeah, he was a general- i can see from the medals and the tags…. Wait…. Does he look familiar to you, Jonathan?” “Not really, i mean.. I mean he KINDA looks familiar, like i’ve seen him in the news or something, but i can’t recall seeing him in real life.”

“Well, alright then, that makes two of us- he looks kinda familiar to me too.. Say, load up that translator machine will ya? Im going to try and translate these tags!” Fredrick called out as he unpackaged the tags. Jonathan nodded and booted up the machine, and in big red text, it read: READY FOR TRANSLATION

Fredrick then set the tags town under the scanner, and as soon as he did, the red matrix glided over the tags, and after a minute of internalizing the information, the screen spat out: IVAN S. MALENKOV

Fredrick’s heart dropped. He knew the name very well, but not the face. In fact, No-one truly knew what the man looked like, at least, not exactly, as the only real depictions of him were quickly drawn sketches by soldiers. They only heard the stories. Stories of brutal k1llings, such as the Slaughter of Baja, soldier kidnappings, and other unspeakable atrocities. If you could think about it, chances are that Gen. Ivan Sergei Malankov has done it.

“Jonathan… Thats Ivan Malenkov.” “Ivan- WHO? You mean the Russian Devil?”

“Yes….” Fredrick shook as he looked back at the man, whose body was now filled with robotics just waiting for a jolt of electricity to course through the mainframe. Now all Fredrick could feel was uncertainty and indecision.. Should I get rid of him and get another subject, wasting all the time I’ve put into the surgery, or should I just jolt him up, and hope and pray that he doesn’t gut us, He thought to himself. But then, he had thought of a better idea.

“We need to get rid of some of these memories, or at least, block them from recall somehow” Fredrick mumbled as he walked back to the memory reader, desperately trying to remove, or at least block any memories. 10 minutes would pass by until Fredrick was certain that the malicious media was removed.

“Okay.. I think i have all of it removed, now all we have is the less horrible crap..” Fredrick sighed. “All we have to do now is strap him down, connect him to the electric shocker-” “Electric What-now?”

“Come on Jonathan, you know what i’m talking about! The generator with the jumper cables and the button i fashioned out of a heated blanket remote!” “Oh yeah- that thing! Where is it?” “Its right over here, i brought it out when I was getting ready.” Fredrick groaned as he lugged the homemade shocker over to the operation table before strapping the man’s arms and legs down. Finally, Fredrick took both ends of the two cables connected to the generator, and clamped them onto the man’s wrists, where imbedded in his skin were two small conductive metal discs around the size of a quarter on either arm that would shoot the electric currents through the wires tied to his bones and into the mainframe. 

“You ready, Jon? I’m about to hit the switch!” Fredrick trembled as he backed away from the operation table, button in hand, worrying about whether or not he or Jonathan would get electrocuted instead of the subject. He quickly pushed these worries to the back of his mind, however. Now was not the time to be worrying, especially when a scientific breakthrough was imminent.

“Ready!” “One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi!”

As soon as Fredrick pressed the button, the sound of electricity shot through the air like the blast of a sh0tgun, and the lights overhead momentarily flickered before going back to normal. Fredrick, crouched beside Jonathan, waited a few moments before speaking.

“You alright, Jonathan?” “Y-Yeah, I’m Fine! D-Did it work?”

“T-thats what I gotta check.. Hold on..” Fredrick stuttered as he carefully approached the man, quiet as a bug crawling on a wall. He surveyed the gentlemen for a bit, noticing the slight slant downwards in his nose, the thinness of his lips, his thin face with slightly defined cheekbones. It was almost hard to believe that he was face to face with the man who had raised hell on earth in the Baja Peninsula 7 years ago. But this moment of serveillance was quickly interrupted by a quiet sound coming from him. A sound of air being gently sucked in, and gently blown out.. 

In… and out…

In… and out..

In... and out…

Fredrick, in a state of amazement, awe, and mystification, could not begin to register that the man, the General Ivan Malankov, was breathing once again. He stood there, eyes wide like saucers, his mouth hanging just slightly agape, his hands gently vibrating in either horror or stupification. Could I just be imagining this? Is this man truly breathing? Is he truly alive, he thought to himself.

“Fredrick..?” Fredrick did not say anything, and instead held one ear to the man’s chest, and sure enough, that cybernetic heart was now pumping blood..

Thuh-dump. Thuh-dump. Thuh-dump. 

“He’s alive… He’s alive! HE’S BREATHING, HIS HEART IS BEATING! JONATHAN, WE DID IT! WE DID IT- WE ACTUALLY BROUGHT A MAN BACK TO LIFE!” Fredrick squealed with a smile from ear to ear, his face turning a bright, almost neon-pink from the rush of excitement. Jonathan rushed over to the man, and the first thing he noticed was that the man’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

“Y-You did that, Fredrick! That was all you! Y-YOU’RE A- A… I CAN’T EVEN GET THE WORDS OUT!” Jonathan squeaked, while Fredrick began pacing up and down and around the operation room in pure elation from his sucessful experiment.

“Whaddya say we unstrap him and wake him up?” Jonathan asked, a smile across his face.

“Ehh, we need to unstrap him, but I don’t think we should wake him up! Lets just let him wake up on his own.. Yeah, i think thats a good idea, what do you think, Jonathan?” “Yeah, now that I think about it, It would be pretty rude to just abruptly awake him after we brought him back.”

An hour of chittering and chattering would pass before the man would start to move. Jonathan, who decided to info-dump about his favorite 80’s bands, was interrupted by the motion of Fredrick pointing to the man, the other hand making a silencing motion.

“Jonathan.. Look!” He whispered before he took Jonathan’s hand and hid behind a table, afraid to accidentally frighten the newly revived man.

The man’s eyes slowly opened, showing grey cybernetical eyes with black sclera, constricting almost realistically under the bright lights above him. He looked around at his new surroundings as he slowly got up, curious as to where he was, for this was not his home. He looked down at his body and immediately noticed the palor of his skin and the stitched-up Y-Incision on his torso that trailed from his chest and collarbones down to his belly. He felt at the stitching, wincing from the pain that it caused him to just simply poke at it, but he did not care about the pain. He felt at his neck that was now reinforced with jointed metal, and finally, he spoke.

“Where the hell..?” he began to say, his voice reverbrating across the room in a dark, strangely inviting Russian accent. Jonathan, watching this, tried his best to make not a sound and stay in the shadows of the operation room, but unluckily for him, he felt a tickling sensation in his sinuses that kept getting worse and worse with each passing millisecond until…

Kuh-Chew!

“Hm?” the newly-revived man hummed as he looked over to the direction the sound came from. He then got up from the table, towering at almost 6 foot and 3 inches. 

“Fredrick, what do we do?” Jonathan whispered, in fear of what the man would do if he was suddenly startled.

“Lets just gently come out….” Fredrick answered. And with that, they slowly rose from their hiding spot, holding their hands in the air to show that they meant no harm.

Ahem.

The man quickly turned around to face the two men, his face void of expression. He looked over at Jonathan, and took notice of his glasses, and looked over to Fredrick, noticing his pine green eyes and goatee. Then, after a minute or two of the man studying over the two scientists, he smiled and slowly nodded, his eyes glowing in the shadowy part of the room.

…

Maximilian Robespierre II, also known as Max II (real name Jean Pagani)

Mad dictator of France between 2034 - 2087

Son of a tech giant and overthrower of the last French President in the second French Revolution, which kick-started the second reign of terror, now instead of the guillotine, an execution can now happen at the push of a button thanks to explosive chips.

CHAPTER 1

It was December 31st, 2041, ten years since the Spiker attacks. the sky was lit up by colorful fireworks in the distance, and the little town of New Arabi was quiet, the only noise were the sound of dogs barking, the far-away pops and bangs of the fireworks, and the whistling of the cold winter wind.

 "Olivia? Are you in there, Oli?" Fredrick called as he gently knocked upon a petal pink door that was adorned with stickers of flowers, pictures of pop stars and little bunnies. He waited for a minute until he heard the click of the door opening, and behind the door stood a yound girl- no, a young woman, with platnium white hair in a pixie cut with colorful barrettes speckled across her hair, eyes as green as a granny smith apple or the greenest blade of grass, wearing a white button-up shirt and a loose black cardigan paired with a black pencil skirt and some white knee-high socks and black shoes, completed with a green teardrop necklace that Fredrick had given to her for her 13th birthday, an orange, white and pink kandi bracelet, and a pink and white cane that stabilized her balance instead of her bad knee, which she had greatly injured in an accident when she was 9. She looked at her father and smiled, to which Fredrick did the same thing.

 "You look beautiful, Oli! Are you excited for that party at that venue?" He asked her as he pulled a sliver of hair off of her cardigan. Olivia smiled again and giggled, tapping her pink-painted fingernails against the handle of her cane.

"Oh, I sure am, Pa! but.. I'm kinda nervous. See, theres this.. Boy.. at school, and i've been wanting to ask him out for a while, and he's going to be at the party tonight, but im worried that he'll think i'm weird, or that he'll call me a freak because of my cane.." she stuttered, looking around the room briskly with her eyes darting from place to place. Fredrick sighed lightly, and tried to comfort his daughter by gently patting her on the back.

"Hey, I believe in you. Even if he does say no, at least you know you asked him instead of living the rest of your life asking yourself 'what if?', and if he does say something rude about your cane, then he doesn't deserve you anyway, because if theres one thing I know, its that true love doesn't care about canes or looks or anything like that." Fredrick tried to reassure her. Olivia nodded and looked down, shaking ever so slightly.

"I-Its just.. all the popular girls keep staring at me and talking about me because of it, and my hair, and my clothes, they think i'm a weirdo.." She whispered, choking back tears as she gripped her cane tighter.

"Oli, in all the ten years that i've called you my daughter, I can say with utmost certainty that you are not a weirdo. If anything, They're the weirdos for wanting to be like everyone else. I was the weird kid too back in my day! Yeah, i was the kid who sat in the back of the library on his little laptop laughing at memes with my best friend, your uncle Jonathan, and tinkering with robots and all kinds of gizmos and gadgets and doodads! You wouldn't believe how many stares i got from the jocks, and the teacher's pets, and the sporty girls- i hated it too! But i never let that get in my way- and look at me now! Your old man used to be one of america's leading men in science back in the 2020's!"

Olivia giggled.

"and think about it this way, You're 18 now, and soon, You'll be out of school and you probably won't see any of them ever again-- You'll be running that soap and candle shop you always wanted to run." Fredrick consoled as he looked into her eyes. Olivia smiled, and hugged her father tightly with both arms, using the tippy-toes of her bad foot to balance herself as Fredrick helped her keep balance. after around 3 minutes, Olivia pulled away, and Fredrick handed her cane to her before looking over to the clock on the wall, which read half past eleven o'clock.

"Oh, Olivia, Its eleven thirty! That party should be starting soon-- You'd best be getting over there!"

"Pa, don't you want to come? there's gonna be games and snacks and karaoke!" Olivia offered, to which Fredrick grinned and shook his head.

"Oh, thank you, Oli, but I'll be just fine! I'm just going to be drinking some whiskey and watching the ball drop on TV! Besides, I don't think your friends would want to see an old drunk scientist bumbling around rambling about robots the whole time!" Fredrick chuckled. Olivia snickered and playfully rolled her eyes.

"Alright, if you say so, Pa!" she giggled as she walked through the threshold of her door, fredrick holding the door for her. they then walked into the living room, where the door that led out of the Johanneson home lie.

"You have fun at that party now, Y'hear? don't worry about what those losers think!"

"Thank you, pa.." Olivia chirped as she got on her tippy-toes to give her father a familial peck on the cheek. she then proceeded to open the door into the cold winter night, and as she walked from the porch onto the sidewalk, Fredrick called out again.

"And No funny Buisness!" he shouted with a playful smile.

"No Funny Buisness here, Pa! Love you, I'll be back by one!" She called back before walking down the sidewalk. Fredrick then closed and locked the door, and made way to the kitchen. 

When he got to the kitchen, he pulled a liquor glass from the wooden cabinet above his head. It was a crystal clear, round glass from before the war, with a black picture of a barn and the words "Whiskey Co." stamped on the side. Of course, Whiskey Co. was not a real company, but the nostalgia that the glass carried about it that screamed 1996 could almost convince you it once was.

Fredrick then walked to another wooden cabinet that contained his liquors, and from the selection he had of wines, scotches, gins and vodkas, he chose a bottle of Peanut Butter Whiskey, with its dark amber substance encaged in its glass container, with an etching of a ram on the side of the bottle.

Fredrick then closed the cabinet, satisfied with the selection he had made, and went back into the living room to sit on his favorite chair, turning the television to channel 8, which was currently running commercials such as New Orleans club singers singing about lawyers, folks selling coffee and donuts, and other things. Fredrick, not paying attention to the senseless advertisements on his screen, unscrewed the cap from the bottle of whiskey, letting the scent of the dark liquid fill his senses before pouring a bit of it into his glass. He then took a sip before quickly turning away, trying his best to not spit it out and ruin the rug. He succeeded, However, and quickly swallowed.

"Agh, that isn't how i remember it tasting like.. oh well!" He mumbled to himself as the station returns to coverage of the ball dropping in New York. He took another sip, this time not minding the burning sensation that the whiskey created. as midnight drew closer, Fredrick drank more and more, the warm burning sensation in his throat and stomach growing with each sip, until eventually, he found himself becoming more tired and happy feeling. it felt as if he had just sat down, but the clock read 11:58, 2 minutes to midnight. he then began counting down until the final seconds of 2041.

3.. 2.. 1.

"H-Happy Neeew Year!!" Fredrick cheered as he took one last swig out of the bottle drunkenly, cheering for the bright new year to come for him and his daughter. not a minute later, fredrick's head began to feel swimmy as he began to see double from the unusual amount of alcohol he had drank in such a short amount of time. in fact, he found that he could not even get off of his chair, much less keep a grip on the bottle. it wouldn't be much time, before Fredrick had blacked out, dropping the bottle.

...

After a while, Fredrick had finally reawakened. He slowly opened his eyes as to not blind himself with the television, noticing that the station had gone off of the air for the night. He looked down at his white tank top, which had been covered whiskey that had turned cold from the winter air, and groaned to himself in misery, noticing how dry his mouth was.

"ugh.. d@mn it..!" he moaned and groaned as he got out of his chair, immediately catching his balance on the armrest. His throat was so dry, it was a struggle to even speak. He walked to the bathroom while leaning on the wall for support, and as he entered the room and trudged to the sink, he looked into the mirror and was met by an older man in his early 40's, with hair as white as powder, pine green eyes, a pointy nose that slanted down just a little, a white goatee, and subtle frown lines and eye creases, wearing a whiskey-stained tank-top. He groaned in disgust at his apperance, stroking his beard as he stared into the eyes of his reflection.

"Ugh, Fredrick, you look like h3ll! what happened to you, boy..?" he growled before filling a cup full of water that came from a well. He drank it, beginning to feel better as the liquid coated his throat. He then poured water upon his face, which woke him up almost immediately. He then went into his bedroom, which was adorned with science awards given to him, CDs with punk music within, and photos from his days as a robotical scientist, standing among his fellow collegues, with light brown hair and goatee, and a smooth face. Not to mention photos of him with his parents and his two brothers and one sister. He smiled to himself as he looked upon the photos, and opened up his wooden closet to grab a clean tank top, taking off the dirty one and throwing it into the dirty clothes basket. After that, he pulled it over his head and stretched his back and arms. He looked over at the clock, and to his surprise, it was 2:12 in the morning. He was surprised that he was only out for that long, as horrible as he had felt upon waking up. then, he noticed that something did not feel right. the house felt emptier than usual...

Where was Olivia?

"Olivia? Oli, are you here?" He called out as he left his bedroom and turned the light off. he went silent, expecting to hear a response, but only silence was heard. 

"...Olivia!" He called again, only to be met with the same silence. His heart began to beat faster as he made his way to her room, opening the door, anticipating seeing his daughter playing on her pink handheld console or writing in her diary, but she was not there. In fact, the room looked as if it had been untouched since she left. His heart dropped as he remembered that she said she would be back by one, she usually made it a point to be at places at the exact time she said, and this was very unusual for Olivia. He then ran into the living room to find that the television was showing a breaking news story. "Breaking News, at this hour?", Fredrick thought to himself until he noticed the anxiety of the anchorman as he read the script, then, the header caught his eye, and his heart sunk into the pit of his stomach.

"SPIKERS ATTACK WOODFORK VENUE NEW YEARS PARTY, 34 D3AD, 15 INJURED, 2 MISSING"

Fredrick then bolted for the telephone, his shaky hand slamming in the phone number- careless as to whether or not the buttons would break, while the other hand held the reciever with an iron grip that could possibly shatter the plastic if he was not careful. 

"Pick up, pick up!" He cried as he heard the phone ringing, but the ringing was quickly cut short by the busy signal, as the venue's phonelines were being jammed with calls. He redialed, but the same 3-note oddity plaed over the speaker, sounding louder against the silence.  He then attempted to redial once again before he saw the flashing of red and blue lights outside the window, and the knocking on the door a couple of seconds later. He opened the door slowly, to find two police officers wearing tattered uniforms that were covered in bl00d, most likely their own, and bandages.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Fredrick Johanneson, Father of Olivia Johanneson?" one skinny cop with a bandaged eye and leg asked, holding his arm.

Fredrick nodded. "Yes, I'm him." He responded as he looked over into the officers' patrol car, hoping to see Olivia in the back, but the car was empty. he looked back at the officers, who said not a word. all that could be heard was the blowing of the frigid winter wind against his ears.

"Where is she? is she alright?" He asked. The skinny officer looked at the other officer, who was burly and had bloody bandages wrapped around his belly and forearms. they then both looked at Fredrick with a look of horror in their otherwise stone-cold faces, and the one-eyed officer spoke.

"When we arrived on scene, we found her slumped against the enterance with a giant gash in her chest and her cane through the door handles along with other people. the paramedics tried their best, but she lost too much blood in a short amount of time. I'm sorry, Mr. Johanneson... Your daughter is dead."

Fredrick's blood ran cold, and his heart almost stopped. he clutched his chest in horror as reality set in, and within seconds he found himself fighting back terror, sorrow, and rage. he wanted to wring their necks so badly but he know it was no use, all that would do is get him arrested. it took all his strength to not lunge at the cops in front of him, but instead he barked:

"Well where is she?! Take me to her!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johanneson, but she was found to be contaminated with spiker venom, and she was taken to the Carnagie Funeral Home in New Gonzales for decontamination." The burly cop responded gently, noticing the animalistic rage in Fredrick's eyes. Fredrick said nothing, but gripped one fist that was hidden out of sight until it was white.

"Mr. Johanneson, do you have any family you could stay with for support?" the bigger cop asked as he checked his surroundings and handed Fredrick Olivia's death certificate. Fredrick shook his head. 

"No, not here. My family and older brother moved up to Gulfport after the war ended, and my younger brother and sister were in Moscow when the bombs dropped and I haven't heard from both of them since. Olivia was my only family." He responded, gritting his teeth. 

"My condolences, sir. Do you have any friends that could stay with you?"

"....I have one best friend, Dr. Jonathan Min."

"Well do you think you could call them, ask him to come here?"

"Probably. He's most likely asleep, though." He growled as he went to the phone and dialed Jonathan's number. after 10 seconds of ringing, a man in his late 30's with a slight Korean Accent picked up.

"Min Residence."

"Hey, Jonathan. Its Fredrick."

"Oh H-Hey Fredrick! Whats going on? I just woke up to get some milk when you called!"

"Jon.. The Woodfork Venue was attacked by Spikers, and Olivia was one of the victims.." Fredrick choked as he tried to keep his eyes from pouring tears. you could hear the sound of the phone cord tapping the receiever rapidly from Jonathan shaking on the other end.

"Huh?! I-Is she okay?!" Johnathan asked with panic in his voice. Fredrick's then began to crack.

"No.. She's gone, Jonathan. Theres cops here and they won't leave until you come to the house." 

Fredrick then heard nothing but silence on the other end, which was then inturrupted by the sound of the reciever hitting the floor, and distant swearing and yelling in Korean, Jonathan's first language. He then picked the reciever back up.

"Dear god... its all over the news! Its every station! 34?! ....Fredrick, I'm coming over. Don't go with those cops! they'll probably try to do something to you, like put you in a nuthouse- so stay where you are!" 

"I wasn't planning on doing that, you know i don't like them any more than you do. I'll see you in a bit."

click.

"He's on his way. Now, If you'll excuse me, I need to clean up. Good day."

"Sir, we need to stay with you until-"

"I said good day." he snarled as he picked up the whiskey bottle on the floor. after 20 minutes or so, a dark brown car drove up into the drive way of the Johanneson Home, and out of the drivers seat came a skinny, rectangle-figured korean man in his late 30's, with messy jet black hair, coffee brown eyes, subtle dark circles under his eyes, thin blue round glasses, a thin periwinkle-blue turtleneck, golden brown slacks, and a pair of black shoes. He walked up to the house where the cops were standing outside talking.

"Are you Jonathan Min?" the one-eyed cop asked him. 

"Yes, I'm Jonathan Min, Fredrick's Friend. He called me up here."

"Good. Well, we need to get back to the scene and notify other families. keep an eye out on Mr. Johanneson, will you? Olivia's funeral is scheduled for noon tomorrow."

"Of course i will, he's my friend!" Jonathan responded as he walked away. The cops then got back into their car and drove off, leaving Jonathan to open the door to find Fredrick sitting on his couch, head in his hands.

"Fredrick..? I'm here..." Jonathan uttered in a gentle, soft tone that was reminiscent of a feather brushing against skin. Fredrick said nothing, and instead waved, clearly still processing what happened. Jonathan sat next to him, willing to offer an ear or a shoulder to cry on-- after all, thats what friends do, they help their friends. He was there to let Fredrick let it all out, and by god, he was going to be there for his childhood friend, just as he was there for him in their younger days. some hours would go by where fredrick would say nothing, or sometimes he'd cry a waterfall, other times he cursed Russia and spikers, and spouting profanities while doing so, and eventually, they would be talking about their scientist days in the 2020's.

"I remember Project Prometheus like it was Yesterday. The fact that we made soldiers better, gave veterans their limbs and life back, and even found out how to preserve memories and consciousness in computers was amazing in and of itself!" Fredrick pondered with a wistful smile on his face.

"I remember how excited you were when the first subject was successful. Heh, you became a big household name within days, huh? you even got an award, and a cool little mug!"

"Yeah.. heh, sure did, Jon.. wait.. THATS IT!"

"Thats what?" Jonathan asked while tilting his head, startled at the sudden shift in Fredrick's mood.

"THATS It! We can bring her back with cybernetics and computers! all we need is the memory needles, cybernetic parts, computer parts, and other things! and where do we have those? The Lab in Baton Rouge!"

"Y-You mean the one we used to work at 20 years ago? Fredrick, didn't Baton Rouge get Cluster-bombed to hell and back? It should've been blown to smithereens!" Jonathan asked, both terrified and intrigued by Fredrick's macabre idea.

"Ahh, thats where you're wrong, Jon! It was actually built to double as a fallout shelter too, so it's resistant to blasts! at least, thats what the director said."

"Really? I didn't know that, and I worked there for about as long as you did!.. So what is your plan, anyway?"

"The plan is that tomorrow after Olivia's funeral, we'll go to your house and get your shovels and your big ice chest, i'll put it in my truck, and we retrieve her and drive all the way to baton rouge!"

"Alright, not going to lie, that is a pretty nice plan for being pulled out of the blue, but Fredrick, are you sure you want to do this? its going to be really grisly, and we'll be doing things that most normal wouldn't even think about doing.. like graverobbing. You'll be robbing your daughter's grave." Jonathan questioned.

"Yes, i'm very sure! I'm going to bring her back one way or another!" Fredrick nodded. 

"Alright then.. its late, and they said that her funeral is at noon tomorrow.. Man, I hate those cops and their "Common Law" Bullcrap! We can't even plan our own folk's funerals on our own now! cops were never good, but dear lord, they weren't THIS bad!"

"Oh trust me, i do too.. I miss Pre-apocolypse America. suprising, i know... Well, I suppose i'll get a shower and change into something presentable for the funeral. I'll be right back." Fredrick said before heading to his bathroom to take a shower and change. To past the time, Jonathan picked up a book off of his coffee table titled "The History of Robot Dogs".

it would be 30  or so minutes before Fredrick returned, wearing a yellow dress-shirt and espresso brown slacks paired with a tie as red as blood and dark brown dress-shoes. Jonathan smiled at the choice of his attire, as nowdays it was discouraged to dress in black to a funeral because you could be confused for a spiker, especially at night, when spikers like to dig up graves to eat the remains.

"Hey, Nice outfit. Haven't seen you wear that shirt and tie since my Aunt Juno's wedding!" Jonathan chuckled.

"Thank you. I'm suprised it still fits me!" he responded with a grin as he dusted off his chest and stretched his back until it popped. He then looked out the window through the curtains, the sky still dark as pitch, only lit by the streetlamps and the moon up above. Jonathan, however, was still unsure of whether fredrick's grand plan was a good idea. While the thought of cybernetic ressurection was fascinating, he pondered if it would help them or lead them to ruin.

"Fredrick... before we carry out that plan, are you sure you want to do this? What if we get caught, or what if we make some mistake that ends up k1lling people? And wouldn't people wonder where we are?" He asked, trying to keep his inner fear hidden. Fredrick huffed, and turned towards him, nodding.

"Jonathan, I assure you that we will not get caught. Besides, we'll only get olivia from the graveyard, no one else. We'll also need subjects, and I know the Carnagie brothers in New Gonzales will help. they have to, they were our collegues!" He reasoned with a stern whisper. Jonathan nodded, accepting this strange answer out of his friend. 

    When Russian Miners came upon a lot of stones in the old rickety mines of Siberia, they did not know what to think. They held the white stones in their gloved hands, and noticed a faint glow emitting from their core, as if a cluster of fireflies were stuck within. After showing their higher ups their discoveries, They sent these seemingly useless stones to the Kremlin, where scientists studied the stones' properties, until one day on May 7, 2005, these scientists would make the discovery of the century, and possibly the millennia.

As it turns out, these stones had potent chemicals throughout their structure that, when burned, could be used as a source of power, potentially replacing coal due to how slow it burned, and how no toxic fumes were produced as they burned, and they also had a value to them that rivaled silver, gold, even platnium. After their vigorous testing, they named these stones Korsakovium-348, after the then-President, Alexander K. Korsakov. However, they would be given a shorter nickname that could roll off of the tongue more easily-- "Korsa".

As a result of Korsa's Discovery, many more mines were opened in Russia, and many other countries followed suit, finding more and more Korsa as time passed. Many cities across the world made the switch from Coal and other power sources to this powerful stone. Everything was well until 2 weeks later on May 21st, when the United States discovered an island between Russia and Alaska that belonged to no nation and no tribe, which after 5 days of mining, they came upon the biggest lot of Korsa to date. Unfortunately, this discovery would start a long conflict between Russia and the United States, as Russia claimed the island belonged to them because they had discovered Korsa first, while America insisted that it was theirs because of how close the land was to Alaska. As a result, the U.S President at the time, Gerald P. Gomez, eliminated power bills and gave big Korsa rocks to cities and towns, which helped garner support from his followers while losing support from power companies, while Korsakov used the rocks he had to upgrade the tanks and other machienery, which Gomez did immediately after. this tennis match of display of power would go on for 3 years, until that fateful summer day, when Korsakov had finally had enough.

On August 12th, 2008, Korsakov would invite Gomez to Moscow to discuss a deal in which they would divide the korsa on the island amongst themselves, one half for Russia, the other half for the United States. Gomez agreed to the deal and signed it in front of national television, believing that the bickering amongst themselves was finally over.

It was a fake document. No legitimate deal was made. it was a ploy to lure the rabbit Gomez from his safe little enclosure in Washington, D.C., and out into Korsakov's den in Moscow.

After Gomez signed the "deal", he and Korsakov sat in the Russian President's office to share a drink of liquor, only for Gomez' glass to be laced with finely ground hemlock. 3 days later, on August 15th, 2008, Gomez would arrange a speech in front of millions of supporters and officials to celebrate the agreement, when during the middle of the speech, Gomez would drop to the floor unconscious, leaving attendees to faint and scream for their President while secret service and guards rushed him to the nearby hospital. Unfortunately, neither the doctors nor the surgeons could save him, and Gerald Gomez would be pronounced dead at 4:35 PM. The cause of death? Assassination by poisoning. all flags throughout the country would be lowered to half-mast, and Gomez's Vice President, Christopher J. Morales, would be sworn in that very night. After the Oath of Office was taken, the first action Morales would take as President was declare war on Russia during an address to the nation, a war that would last decades.

But with this war, came scientific discoveries. newly invented chemicals, soundwave manipulation, wonder-pills that could replace meals, all of these brilliant findings were discovered within the labs scattered about the U.S in places like Dallas, Jackson, Raleigh, D.C, Halifax, but one lab hosted one project that could help the Military tremendously, and that was the Lab in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and the Project was codenamed Project Prometheus, lead by America's leading man in Robotics and Cybernetics, Fredrick Dell Johanneson. This project sought to upgrade soldiers with cybernetic arms, legs, eyes, whatever needed to be replaced in order to make them better after America's horrific defeat in the Battle of Baja in 2024, also known more accurately as the Slaughter of Baja, as more then 2,000 American Soldiers, 1,245 Civillians, and 986 Japanese Soldiers, whom were allied with America after a deal that they would support them, were brutally slaughtered by Russian soldiers, led by a man named General Ivan Sergei Malankov, known more commonly to civillians as the Russian Devil.

Project Prometheus would prove to be a success, as Americans would win the battle of Siberia by a landslide after these cybernetic upgrades were instated, helping the men both on and off of the battlefield. for the first time since the beginning of the war, things finally seemed to be looking up for the Americans as they won more and more operations to come, but what they did not know was that Russia was cooking up something within their own labs that would help them take out the rest of the soldiers and would-be's..

Spikers.

Spikers, named after the lead researcher Boris "Spike" Ivanov, were a horrific amalgamation of Jackal, Bear, and Mantis DNA, with fur as black as pitch or an oil slick, long pointy ears, piercing white eyes that glowed dimly along the treelines, pointed blood-stained teeth that could split an entire pig in half with one snap of its jaws, and claws as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, spliced and bred for one purpose and one purpose only: To maim, maul, Mutilate, and k1ll Americans and her allies, and on December 31th, 2031, these creatures would do just that.

They teared apart soldier and civillian alike where ever they were released, from the sandy beaches in California, the dry deserts in Arizona, the swampy wetlands in Louisiana, the snowy terrain of Wisconsin, to the snow-blanketed Washington D.C. No man, woman, or child was spared from the wrath and havoc that these horrors caused unless they hid and made not a sound. the Capital was hit the most by them, however, as they charged headfirst into the White House to eat its inhabitants. The Russians, seeing the carnage, were satisfied and confident that they had won the war, and that the island's precious resources were theirs for the taking. But no one would win, as in the moments before President Edward Wookfork and the First Lady Emilia Woodfork were eaten alive by the beasts, Edward would press the button that would launch the nukes towards Moscow and the other cities. Korsakov would attempt to retaliate, but to no avail, as the silos were inactive due to neglect. all that Korsakov could do now was to rush to his Fallout shelter and wait it out. 

The blast would destroy everything in its path. Windows were broken, buildings that could not withstand the nuclear fire were swept away along with their foundations or atleast broken in half, and anyone caught outside were either vaporized or burned, at the very least, poisoned by the radiation.

Two days would pass, and Korsakov would emerge from his shelter wearing a heavy radiation suit, making way to the town of Zelenograd to see if anyone had survived. When he finally arrived, he found that there were indeed people living there. He took the helmet from his suit off, expecting to be greeted with open arms by the survivors, but instead, he was grabbed by the strongest men, stripped of his radiation suit, and tied to two streetlamps, one wrist tied to each pole. the survivors screamed in pain and agony and rage at the man while children, with arms, legs, and even eyes covered in bloodied bandages walked up to the man, asking "Why?". Korsakov did not have an answer for these poor souls, and remained silent. the teens and younger adults, however, threw rocks at Korsakov, and kicked, punched, slapped, scratched, and beat whatever part of him they could hurt, while taking pocket knifes and tearing Korsakov's lavish deep blue suit apart for bandages for them and their young. after 7 hours, he would succumb to his injuries, and on January 2st, 2032, Alexander Korsakov would pass away, still tied to those streetlamps as a warning.

Two once powerful nations died as quickly as 2032 was born, and the world was forever changed. it would take 7 years for America to get back up and wipe the gravel from its face, but by then, no one was interested in becoming the united states once more, and instead, cities and communities governed themselves. in the end, all that the survivors wanted was a sense of normalcy, to have children, a stable job, food on the table. Fredrick Johanneson and the rest of the scientists were no stranger for this longing. In fact, after the war, he settled down in the town of New Arabi, Louisiana to take care of his 8 year old adopted daughter Olivia and to rest in retirement. For the first time since the spiker invasion, life seemed to finally be looking up for the man.

CHAPTER 2

“Friends and Family, We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Olivia Moira Johanneson, who was born on September 30th, 2023, and tragically passed away on January 1st, 2042, in the Woodfork Spiker Massacre. May we forever remember her smile and her willingness to help others, May we lift her name up to the heavens, and may we keep her memory in our hearts, lest she be forgotten. Let us pray..”

As Fredrick and the rest of the congregation of friends and survivors and family bowed their heads, he pondered his plan that he and Jonathan agreed upon that very night. When he first entered the funeral home’s gates, he surveyed his surroundings, as it would be imperative to remember where everything was for tonight. The only noise in the solemn graveyard now was the director reciting a prayer for Olivia’s soul, but such prayers aren’t needed, Fredrick thought to himself. After all, she will be back, better than ever, practically immortal to do whatever she pleased, to live the adulthood that was stolen from her at 18, to have a spouse or kids if she wanted. They rose their heads afterwards, clean-bandaged survivors and friends came up to read their eulogies and kind words about their friend, and after that, a final prayer was said for her, and her casket was lowered into a shallow grave and covered with gravel.

After the funeral had ended, the two men briskly walked back to Fredrick’s truck, a maroon 1998 Chevy Blazer, and as Fredrick approached the driver’s door, he felt a wave of drowsiness overcome him from his lack of sleep. He attempted to shake himself awake, but it was futile. Jonathan then tapped him on his shoulder, jolting him awake.

“Fredrick, are you alright? Maybe you should let me drive!” “No no, Jonathan, I’m perfectly fi-” Fredrick mumbled before getting cut off by jonathan, whose eyes were wide with worry. “I Insist! You look like you’re about to fall over!”

“...Agh, Fine. Heres the keys.” He muttered, handing him the keys to the truck before walking over to the passenger’s side and opening the door to hop in, to which Jonathan followed suit. 

“So, now we go to my place to get that ice-chest and the shovels?” Jonathan asked, making sure he was correct, to which Fredrick nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah, thats right. You still have that ice-chest in your garage, huh?”

“I should, Last time we ever used it was when we had that barbeque back in July…” Jonathan replied as he started the engine to the truck and began backing out of the parking lot and onto the road. No more words were said, as Fredrick leaned onto the door, looking out the window and into the vastly varying scenery, between graffiti-abundant ghost towns, abandoned farmlands void of animals and crops, and woods and swamps abuzz with rabbits hopping along ditches, and foxes leaping across logs. As he gazed upon the everchanging environment moving by, he allowed himself to close his eyes and relax as his breathing slowed. After all, he was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, maybe a little nap would help him…

…

When we finally awoke from his dreamless sleep, he found himself in the dark interior of his truck, parked in front of a house , with dark blue and white paint, flowerbeds on either side of the door, and a statue of the Virgin Mary in the front yard. He then sat up in his seat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looked out the window once again to find that it was nighttime now. Where was Jonathan, he asked himself, but it was quickly answered by Jonathan opening the driver’s door, visibly sweating, and out of breath.

“H-Hey, Fredrick! You’ve been out for quite awhile! I finally found my shovels and ice-chest! I… Oh god.. I thought i would never find it- I need to clean my garage out!” he huffed, leaning on top of the seat.

“Well why didn’t you wake me up? I would’ve helped you!” 

“You hadn’t slept a wink since last night! You would’ve probably passed out while standing and fall into some of the bullcrap I have stashed in there and lose an eye!” 

“Yeah, thats probably true!” He chuckled, stretching his back. “So, wheres the chest and shovels now?” “I went ahead and put them in the trunk while you were asleep!” “Well good! Now, we just need to pick up some ice from the gas station and head on back to the gas station! ….What was that gas station called again?”

“Elbertsons.” Jonathan pipped as he hopped back into the truck and started the engine once again, setting back out on the roads. “Hopefully they’re still open!” “I hope so too! Ugh, I hate time changes..”

“Me too..”

After 10 minutes of driving along, they finally arrived at the Elbertson’s Gas station, a homely little mom-and-pop buisness in the middle of an old community, with old-fashion gas pumps, and a big “ICE-2-GO” Ice machine to the front-left of the lot. Jonathan parked the truck in front of the building, and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Alright, I’ll be back, i’m going to go ask if they have change for a dollar. Need anything?” “No, not at the moment.”

Jonathan nodded, and hopped out, and made his way towards the establishment. When he made it, he attempted to open the door, but it only rattled, as the door was locked. He then checked his wallet to see if he had any change, and he felt his chest tighten when he realized that he had no change, and had to ask Fredrick. What kind of moron doesn’t have change nowdays, he panicked to himself. ‘Now I’ll look like an idiot in front of my best friend!’. He then trudged back to the truck, red in the face, and opened the door once again.

“Hey.. Fredrick? They’re closed, and i just checked, and i…. Uh..” “Don’t have any change?” Fredrick asked, confused on why he was so visibly embarassed about something as trivial as a lack of change.

“....Yeah.” “Hey, it happens. I got some here in the center console.” He chuckled as he opened up the center console and gave him four shiny quarters and an oxidised penny. “Here. let me know if you need more.” “Thank you Fredrick. I’ll be back!” He said with a slight grin as he closed the door once again, grabbing the ice chest and swiftly sprinting to the ice machine, which was lit with a singular streetlamp hanging above jonathan’s head. He then put the coins into the slot, and within minutes, the ice poured into the ice chest, filling it up halfway. He then picked it up, the weight of it almost popping Jonathan’s shoulders out of place, but instead of crying out in pain like he oh so wanted to, he sucked it up, and slowly made his way back to the truck. Afterwards, he popped the trunk open, and pushed it in, huffing and puffing, clutching his chest to feel his heartbeat. He opened the door to the truck once more, his face as red as a can of strawberry soda.

“I… I got the ice!” he wheezed.

“Jonathan, Are you alright?!” “I… I’m okay, i think! I… I think you should probably drive now, I can barely move my arms, I-I’m sorry, Fredrick!”

“Hey, don’t apoligize, you’re doing a lot- take a rest!” Fredrick said as he hopped out of the passenger’s seat, allowing Jonathan to take his place as he jumped into the driver’s seat, starting the truck once again, and finally driving back to the graveyard, passing by the same landmarks that he fell asleep watching.

…

When they finally reached the graveyard, Fredrick found that the area was silent. Eerily silent, with the only light being the full moon above and the headlights from Fredrick’s truck-- which were quickly turned off after they had parked as to not bring attention to themselves.

“Are you ready, Jonathan?” Fredrick asked, getting out of the truck to fetch the Ice-chest and shovels.

“Yeah, i am. but.. What what if people notice the gravel got moved around or something? I don’t think graverobbing carries a light sentence, Fredrick!” “Relax, Jonathan. I don’t think they’ll notice- theres hundreds of graves here! And besides, sometimes spikers dig up the gravel sometimes and eat people- thats why Chris Morales had to be creamated! they’ll just think that a spiker tried to get in… Don’t worry, no one will notice a thing..”

Jonathan nodded, wanting to believe what Fredrick was saying.

“Here, you take the shovels, they’re lighter.”, Fredrick said as he handed Jonathan the shovels while he lugged the Ice-chest out of the trunk. They then slowly entered through the gates of the graveyard, silent and cold as death itself, in fact, it felt like the spdead were scowling at them as they made the walk, judging them from beyond the grave. Fredrick however, shook off the feeling. He was already so close, and he wasn’t about to let the feeling of paranoia overtake him. After a minute or so of passing the quiet mausoleums and shallow graves from years and decades before, they finally made it to Olivia’s gravesite once again. Jonathan looked up at Fredrick as he handed him a shovel, and finally, he asked in a hushed voice:

“Fredrick, I know I have asked this countless times, and forgive me, but are you sure you want to do this? After we start digging, theres no going back.”

Fredrick Nodded.

“Of course. We’re already so close.. But when we get her, we’re not going to immediately start working on her… No, we need a subject, maybe two, because if I mess something up and i can’t get her back, I won’t forgive myself.” He explained. They then prepared their shovels to dig.

“On a count of three… one… two.. Three.” They then began digging, with Fredrick doing most of the heavy lifting while Jonathan routinely checked to see if there were any strangers or spikers about. 15 minutes would go by, and when all was said and done, the grave would be uncovered, revealing a polished wood casket with Olivia’s initials engraved into the upper lid. Fredrick held his breath, preparing himself for what he was about to see, while Jonathan looked away. Fredrick noticed.

“Jonathan, are you alright?”

“I-Its just that… well, she’s your daughter, and uh.. I thought you might like some privacy.” he mumbled nervously. Fredrick shook his head. “Jonathan, You were like an uncle to her, this is your moment too!” he whispered, briskly looking around to make sure no one overheard them. Jonathan said not a word, but nodded, taking a glance at the casket. This would mark the very moment that Fredrick’s project would start. A project that would test his hypothesis of whether the dead can be brought back.

“Jonathan… I’m going to open up the casket.. And when I open up the casket, we’re going to gently pick her up and put her in the ice-chest, and rebury the casket, understand?” Fredrick instructed as he crouched to grab a hold of the heavy lid.

“Got it.” “Good.. now on a count of three… One.. Two..”

And on the count of three, he opened the lid, closing his eyes tightly. After a minute or so, he finally opened his eyes once more, and within the casket was none other than Olivia, cold and lifeless, yet she looked like she was sleeping, with her arms draped over her stomach, cane in both hands, still wearing her new-years outfit , except for her blouse, which was replaced with a black blouse. As Fredrick looked on, he found every emotion one could experience rushing towards him like a freight truck. Rage, sorrow, guilt, disgust with what he was doing filled his thoughts as he clenched his jaw together. He wanted to scream, He wanted to cry. He wanted to dig his own grave beside her and plunge his shovel through his heart and never feel anything ever again, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Not to Olivia, and not to Jonathan. He looked up at Jonathan, and even though shadows were cast over his eyes and glasses as he stood above the crouched Fredrick, you could tell that he too was processing the sorrowful sight. Fredrick then picked Olivia up gently, as if he were handling a delicate flower with white gloves, cradling her in his arms.

“....I’ve got her, Jonathan…” He whispered through tear-choked vocal chords. Jonathan nodded, not saying anything, and opened the lid to the frigid ice-chest, where Olivia would rest until they got to the lab in Baton Rouge. Afterwards, they closed the lid to the casket, and reburied it, making sure not to leave a single piece of gravel out of place. Now, all they have to do is put the ice-chest in the back seat, and make way to Baton Rouge. 

“Alright, next stop, Baton Rouge.” Fredrick grunted as he picked up the ice-chest, using his chest and stomach to carry it as Jonathan carried the shovels back to Fredrick’s truck. Afterwards, they popped the trunk and set the shovels and the chest containing Olivia in the back seat, and they both got back in the truck, started the engine, and headed on the road towards Baton Rouge. 30 minutes would pass where they did not say a word to each other, and instead gave each other quick glances, and listened to the radio. It was only after a commercial for Aximin, a meal-replacement pill turned highly addictive drug, came on the radio, that Jonathan spoke up.

“Hey, Frank Kemper was the guy that made Aximin, right? Whatever happened to him?” “Well, they say that he was getting reports that when you bit into the pill, it released a sort of smoke or steam that made you… well, h1gh, and he didn’t believe it until he tried it for himself, and got addicted. According to some people who knew him, he went insane and ran into the woods!” Fredrick huffed, keeping his eyes on the road to make sure no spikers or robbers would grab them. “Its a dang shame, too! He was a good guy, we worked with him! “Oh yeah, thats right! He wasn’t really all that involved in Prometheus though, was he?” “No, not really. He knew more about medicine and brains than cybernetics anyway.” Fredrick shrugged. A couple of minutes later, Fredrick saw a sign riddled with bull3t holes that read:

Baton Rouge      2

“Hey, We’re almost there!” Fredrick beamed as he looked over at Jonathan, to which he also smiled.

“Good! I hope the power is still on there!” “It should, it’s powered by Korsa! No power bills here, Gomez made sure of that!”

Two miles later, they arrived in what was once Baton Rouge. Icicles hanged from abandoned houses and buildings, rubble scattered every which way, the city was barely recognizable. Now all it was was a place for rebellious teenagers to group up and chew Aximin, raiders to rob people or for wild animals to hunt for prey.

“Are you sure the Lab is still here?” Jonathan whispered as he looked around the place, to which Fredrick nodded.

“Yes, of course it is! It has to be! See? There it is!” he announced as he pointed to a grey building with a flat roof, high windows, and scuffed paint, most likely from rocks hitting it or shrapnel. Jonathan raised his eyebrows, surprised that the building was even standing after all these years.

“Wow, you were right! I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Fredrick!”

As they pulled into the parking lot and got out, Fredrick scanned the locked building, noticing a broken window that was just out of his reach, and even if he could get up to that window, he wouldn’t be able to fit, as the window was a bit too small around for man to squeeze through.

“....Hey Jonathan!” “Hm?”

“You think I could give you a boost and you could go through that window and unlock the door?” “Hell, Probably! Looks big enough!” Jonathan pipped as he walked towards Fredrick and the window. Fredrick then found a stick to break the rest of the glass so that Jonathan would not get cut, and afterwards, Fredrick boosted Jonathan up to the window, to which Jonathan successfully crawled through, entering the same building he used to work at all those years ago.

“Do you see anything, Jonathan?” Fredrick called out through the other side of the window.

“Thats the thing- I can’t see a thing!” Jonathan yelled back, choking down a cough as he looked around for the power closet.

“It should be somewhere near the door, I think! Glass Doors, can’t miss ‘em!”

Jonathan then made his way into the lobby where sure enough, the glass doors were, and next to the doors-- or more accurately, adjacent to the doors, was the electrical closet.

“Which ones do i flip?”

“You flip all of them!” Jonathan then flipped all 10 of the switches, and within seconds, the flourescent lights lit up, revealing white tables, shelves with solutions of every kind, and dark malachite tiled floors, riddled with dust. 

“Got it!” As soon as Jonathan got the words out of his mouth, he heard a low gutteral growl from farther into the facility that echoed off of the walls..

“...Hello?” Jonathan called out, which would soon prove to be a mistake, for as soon as he finished his sentence, two spikers lunged out of the darkness towards Jonathan, sending him running back toward the window he came out of.

“SPIKERS! SPIKERS! FREDRICK, THERES TWO SPIKERS IN HERE!” 

Fredrick froze when he heard Jonathan’s scream the name of those monsters. No, No! This can’t be happening again, He thought to himself frantically. He tried his best to jump through the window to help him, but it was no use. It was then that Fredrick remembered that he had his favorite p1st0l with him in case of raiders or spikers, and he immediately drew it out of his holster, trying his best to aim it through the window, sending a few sh0ts towards the spikers that unfortunately missed. Realizing that his position would only result in him wasting amm0, he threw the p1stol to Jonathan, who caught it mid-air.

“SH00T, JON, SH00T! AIM FOR THE EYES!” He yelled, his voice momentarily distracting the spikers as Jonathan aimed into their cold unforgiving white eyes…

POP! POP-POP! POP-POP POP!

The spikers let out a horrid wretching scream as they collapsed to the floor, twitching as their last nerves die out. Finally, the two spikers that would’ve likely made Jonathan their meal were dead.

“I… I Got them, Fredrick! Thank you!” “Don’t mention it- Now, are you gonna open the doors?” Fredrick laughed nervously as he scanned the rubble to make sure no other spikers were lurking about.

“Of course! Let me go open the doors right quick!” Jonathan huffed as he ran back into the lobby to open the doors, finally letting Fredrick in.

“Wow… this place has been virtually untouched! I’m surprised that no-one has broken in besides those spikers!” Fredrick exclaimed as he noticed all of the dust and cobwebs on the shelfs and in the corners. 

“Yeah, I’m amazed that this building is even standing after the cluster-bombings and for how long its been here unmaintained!”

Now that the two men were safe and sound, Fredrick brought the ice-chest containing Olivia inside, and gently placed her into a cryogenic pod for safe-keeping and preservation.

“Alright, now that she’s safe, we should clean this place up! If we’re going to be doing any science in this place, the last thing we want is dust and spiders getting in our work!” Fredrick declared as he picked up a broom from the closet and began to sweep the dust and dirt off of the floor. Jonathan agreed, and picked up a cloth to dust the rest of the things, like the beakers, the machinery, the tables, and any other things that need cleaning. 2 hours later, the lab was finally clean and presentable, and a wooden board was put over the broken window so that neither cold nor spikers would get in.

“Ha…. now this is a lot like how I remember it..” Fredrick sighed as he set down on one of the roller chairs next to the testing tables.

“Yeah, We did Project Prometheus in this very lab, didn’t we?” “Haha! We sure did! We were a lot younger, and I was a lot skinnier!”

“Fredrick, thats because you barely ate anything during the entirety of the project! You look a lot better now then you did back in the 2020’s!” Jonathan chuckled nervously as he brought out two cots out of the back room that were to be used in the event the lab became a fallout shelter.

“I forgot we even had those cots back there!” Fredrick exclaimed with a smile, to which Jonathan smiled back.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d wanna sleep out in the cold truck, huh? I even found some blankets and pillows.” “Well good deal! Here, i’ll get the other one!” Fredrick offered as he took one of the cots out of Jonathan’s arms and began unfolding it, snapping the bars that held it open in place. They then unfolded the blankets and put them over the cots, finishing the job by putting the pillows in place.

“Its not much, but its better then sleeping on the damn floor, eh Fredrick?” Jonathan laughed. Fredrick chuckled and nodded, stretching his back until it made a quiet pop.

“It sure is, Jon! It sure is. Y’know, it kinda reminds me of the sleepovers we used to have as kids!” Fredrick reminisced as he undid his necktie and unbuttoned his dress-shirt and took off his belt and shoes to get ready to go to sleep, leaving nothing but his tank-top undershirt, pants, and black socks. 

“Oh, I remember those days! I remember we would hang out in your room playing video games, watching cartoons, and eating cheese balls and drinking root beer!” Jonathan said with a smile as he also took off his shoes and belt, trading in his periwinkle turtleneck for a baggy black t-shirt that he found while searching for the cots. Afterwards, Jonathan turned off the overhead lights, leaving one table lamp on so that he could see, and the two scientists entered their cots.

“....Hey, Jonathan?” Fredrick whispered to Jonathan as he stretched out on the cot, letting his forearms dangle on each side while his tired pine eyes looked over to him.

“Yeah, Fredrick?”

“...Thank you for helping me with this project so far. You’re probably one of the only people I can trust right now, and you being here to help me is just.. It helps more than you know.” He whispered, his voice nearly being choked over by tears. 

“Hey, thats what best friends do. I want you to be happy again, and if it means that we go back to doing science in this old lab, then I’m gonna be with you each step of the way.” Jonathan whispered back with a warm smile. Fredrick smiled, and looked up at the ceiling as Jonathan pulled the covers over himself.

“.....Goodnight, Fredrick.”

RTAR: The Visual Novel WIP #1