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Viper and the Mandrill
JUNE...YEAR 5
The bullet smashed through the doorframe beside him, leaving a liquid residue. Owen eyed it warily. It looked like the bullet had melted in flight, which probably meant it was travelling at supersonic speed. Which probably meant electromagnetic propulsion. A Gauss pistol.
Right. Now he knew what was going to kill him. What he didn’t know was what he could do about it.
He and his lover had been working in the research complex as usual, that day. And they’d planned to unveil themselves as the world’s latest superhuman heroes soon. But a terrorist group led by a woman in green with a lock of hair always carefully over one eye had blown a hole in the complex wall and taken over the biochemistry research department. Then an ape had moved in as Owen and his lover, Chloe, tried to infiltrate. There’d been a fight, in which Chloe had turned on him. He suspected mind control, but that didn’t really help.*
And now he was being chased by the woman in green and Chloe was nowhere to be seen. And she had a gun; all he had was the ability to alter his gravity. He couldn’t use the nanites in his system to pin her to the floor, for example, or whisk the gun out of her hand - so he was a bit worried by the firefight. On the other hand, he was going to get Chloe back. And if possible, figure out what the hell was going on… but he’d settle for derailing the villains’ plans and getting life back to normal.
He figured that was heroic enough for a first outing.
Now, how did you win a firefight when your opponent was a good tactical fighter, a marksman and had the only gun involved?
His path eventually took him past the open ventilation plate he and Chloe had used to gain access to the piping, and he paused. The only real advantage he had in this firefight was knowing the complex, so he was going to have to use it.
A thought, and gravity sucked him upward and into the vent. Here’s hoping, now…
Viper gave the venting nothing more than a cursory glance. No way someone could be balanced in that without being visible, so she moved on…
… and Owen crashed out of the venting behind her, bearing her down and swatting her gun away.
No way someone could be balanced in that without being visible, unless they could meddle with gravity.
He reached up, locked his hand around her neck, and concentrated. If he could bring nanites to bear from enough directions - hence the grip - he could create gravitational fields of a tiny level to influence the area around him.
Something stalled the air in Viper’s windpipe, compressing it into a ball that just floated, not going anywhere, not so much as idling from side to side. She began to choke.
Owen gave her ten seconds, then released the field, bringing his other fist across and punching her in the face, knocking her out. That was due to the oxygen starvation as much as anything else, though, he reckoned. A good trick to remember, though. With the ape, he might just keep squeezing, after what the bastard did to Chloe.
He picked up the gun and figured out how to unload it, then hid the rounds in the ventilation shaft and sealed it up again. He wasn’t going in that way unless he could help it. Then he removed all the pouches on the woman’s belt that might contain ammunition, and dragged her along to the pharmacy section. After improvising some shackles to hold her in place, he got on the phone and called one of the chief pharmacologists, summoning him back to the complex.
“Sir?”
“Shipman.”
“There’s a guy here says he’s been invited in.”
“The invitation just got cancelled. Tell him to bugger off.”
“Sir, he knows about what’s going on inside. He says someone inside called him to help stop it.”
There was a pause.
“We have a man on the inside?”
“Someone does, sir.”
“He says he’s been told someone in there has a capacity for mental control, sir. Believed to be probably chemical-based, from observation made by his source. And he’s been asked to try and devise an antidote.”
“Oh, God…”
“Sir?”
“So, our mole reckons we’re dealing with superhumans, does he?”
“Looks that way, sir.”
“Bollocks. Still, I suppose that explains the WPCs…”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. Let the man through, Shipman.”
“OK, sir.”
“Good morning, Dr. Carpenter,” Owen said as the man entered the room. “I shan’t waste time explaining the situation again…”
He stepped aside and revealed the trussed form of Viper, now regaining consciousness and muttering a string of curses.
The good doctor got to work. Owen watched him attempting to procure a blood sample with a certain degree of grim amusement.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that we might get a pre-infection blood sample,” Carpenter grumbled, but Owen got the impression that was more for form’s sake than anything else. “Or some indication of how the chemical entered the subject… do we have a name for the subject?”
“If I’m recognising who I think I’m recognising, yeah,” Owen said. “Calls herself Viper. Terrorist.”
“Indeed?” Carpenter asked, mildly. “And you, sir - what do you call yourself.”
Owen nearly gave out his real name, but checked himself. He wondered what the scientist made of his hesitation as he said, “Bodyweight.”
“So?” Carpenter didn’t really appear interested, or, more accurately, he appeared more interested in his work on Viper’s blood sample.
“Hmm… Interesting metabolite. Should flush out of the system reasonably quickly, but it’s got some sort of von Neumann effect…”
“I, ah, I’m afraid I don’t follow your field, doctor,” Owen said, somewhat baffled.
“Of course not; my apologies. Essentially, whatever it is was introduced into her system - and it looks like this metabolite is the key to any mental control, if you are correct in suspecting that-“
“I’d lay money on it,” Owen said grimly, remembering the waterfist that had hit him just a couple of hours ago.
“Indeed. In any case, the metabolite should wash out of her system. But it isn’t; it appears to be replicating itself, and so staying in there… Hmm… Ah, no, this is a secondary effect, it appears. The metabolite’s constant presence stimulates production of the enzymes the blood requires to metabolise the original substance, but… good God, it looks like those enzymes are actually damaging to the human system, or could be in numbers. The body needs more of the original substance to dispose of the enzymes.” He looked up from the screen of the electron microscope. “That means addiction on a ridiculously short timescale; it’s actually physically deleterious not to have a supply of the original substance in your blood once it’s entered. I’d say the original substance is the mental control chemical, whatever that might be; this metabolite’s von Neumann properties are just a useful side effect from the controller’s point of view.”
“Pretty cold way of putting it.”
“Yes… But, sadly, accurate. I don’t suppose you were able to gather any idea of quite how the substance establishes subservience?” Owen was forced to shake his head. “Sorry. I just saw the end result.”
“Ah. Well, no matter. It will take longer, but it can still be done.”
“Pheromones,” Viper said, her teeth clenched.
“Sorry?” Dr Carpenter asked, startled.
“Pheromones,” she said again. There was real anger in her voice. “It’s the Mandrill. He… has this effect on women. We hit attraction then steamroller through lust and, somehow, onto a desire to do what the guy says. It’s not right. That’s why I came here.”
“What?”
“I came here to get a way of synthesizing the stuff. I figured if I managed, I could get away from him, fight the craving…” Her face curled into a snarl. “It’s addictive. I guess you’ve just told me why, even if I don’t quite get it. If you can get this stuff out of my system, gentlemen, I will be grateful.”
“I’m not surprised,” Owen responded. “Doesn’t stop you being a terrorist, though. Or is that all his fault, too?”
Viper tried to figure out whether they’d fall for it, and decided against trying. “No. But would I really hit some poxy little research lab in Scotland? I only came here now because this is the one time I really don’t need to get locked up in the middle of a mission… I need the pheromones. So I picked a place superheroes wouldn't be.”
“And you picked a time right after Glasgow got it’s own pair,” Owen said. “Myself… and Cascade. The real reason I’m having Carpenter work on you.”
“Oh, it’s not a question of ‘having’ me work on Viper here, not now,” Carpenter said, cheerfully. “Fascinating stuff, this. I’m indebted to you for supplying me with the opportunity. So… the control factor is hormonal. Interesting…”
And with that he was off, doing a hundred and one things Owen couldn’t quite make sense of.
But he did understand one thing. “So…the biochemistry division is working on synthesizing this stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Doctor… Wouldn’t it be possible to tap their research? That would give you a sample of the original substance, and some idea of how it breaks down.”
Carpenter paused in the middle of two computer simulations. “Why… yes, indeed.” He began fiddling about with a third terminal in order to do so. “Ahh… my congratulations to the biochemists,” he muttered as information began to fill the screen. “This is… Well, it’s actually surprisingly useful. I may have a partial antidote complete by nightfall.”
“And how long before they have a full synthesis, you reckon?” Owen asked.
“Probably longer,” Carpenter replied cheerfully. “They’re dealing with organic material. I just need something that purges the system of metabolite and original substance.” He smiled across at Owen. “That’s pharmaceutical. Much quicker.”
“So we’ll be in time?”
“That’s the theory. Of course, I’d be lying if I attempted to guarantee there were no side effects.”
NEXT ISSUE: The big finish. ‘Nuff said.