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Post by Quatum on Sept 8, 2021 6:43:43 GMT -5
Deep beneath the bowels of Tuffle City, Quatum was hard at work inside his sub-lab, injecting his latest DNA specimen into a very particular stasis pod in the center of the room! It was a MASSIVE pod, commanding the whole center of his lab, the hum of the machine becoming a sweet, calming noise to Tuffle's ears. He tapped at a console connected to the pod, inputting strings of information as his Data-servants milled about behind him, completing the more simple-tasks he couldn't be bothered to attend to at the moment. One servant was feeding the captured animals he had lined against a wall in their own terrariums. Another was throwing a failed test-subject in the incinerator. Another-still stood behind Quatum, holding a series of syringes labeled Syrum's A-D with the 'B' one in already in the scientist's hand.
"Projections indicate you will be complete in a matter of months." Quatum mused to himself, his reflection bouncing off the round glass-face of the pod. Inside, a small, red embryo floated, its form resembling that of a humanoid... but with its head elongated and these green crystal-like protrusions lining its digits. "As much as I loath to admit it, we are losing this war. It seems as if the number of their most seasoned fighters grow by the day... while we lose ours by the hour. We cannot keep fighting as we have been and expect favorable results." Quatum withdrew his syringe from the machine, giving it to the data-servant. He watched as the embryo slurped up the fluid he had injected inside, the creature writing and squirming lively as its genetic code mutated and changed!
"You, one day, may be the last of the Tuffles, my creation. For reasons beyond my understanding, the sayains are forging new alliances with powerful beings encroaching on our land more and more every day. Our borders will soon shrink to that our our cities... and then into the cities themselves. We are out of all viable options other than you..."
The creature opened its eye as if it had heard what the scientist had said, a blank, yellow ocular organ staring back at the cold, black shades of Quatum.
"...Hatchiyak."
With that, Quatum would tap one final command into the console and a metal shielding would fold over the glass of the stasis-pod, the master and creation staring at one another until it had closed over completely. The Tuffle would turn on his heels, fold his arms behind his back and make his way back upstairs, his servants still working dutifully as he left. Entering his ground-level lab, Quatum would shed himself of his lab-coat and toss it on a nearby empty table, the man sitting himself down at a massive half-circle desk covering his face in his hands. He could feel the pressure of the war closing in around himself, his age... not doing him any favors when he needed to bounce-back from the pangs of hopelessness that hit him from time-to-time. His people were dying... and there was NOTHING he could do... CURSE IT! All those bodies... people he used to know. People... he might've even liked.
Dead.
"Blasted sayains..." He muttered, his weariness overtaking him... as he fell asleep.
WC: 538
"Projections indicate you will be complete in a matter of months." Quatum mused to himself, his reflection bouncing off the round glass-face of the pod. Inside, a small, red embryo floated, its form resembling that of a humanoid... but with its head elongated and these green crystal-like protrusions lining its digits. "As much as I loath to admit it, we are losing this war. It seems as if the number of their most seasoned fighters grow by the day... while we lose ours by the hour. We cannot keep fighting as we have been and expect favorable results." Quatum withdrew his syringe from the machine, giving it to the data-servant. He watched as the embryo slurped up the fluid he had injected inside, the creature writing and squirming lively as its genetic code mutated and changed!
"You, one day, may be the last of the Tuffles, my creation. For reasons beyond my understanding, the sayains are forging new alliances with powerful beings encroaching on our land more and more every day. Our borders will soon shrink to that our our cities... and then into the cities themselves. We are out of all viable options other than you..."
The creature opened its eye as if it had heard what the scientist had said, a blank, yellow ocular organ staring back at the cold, black shades of Quatum.
"...Hatchiyak."
With that, Quatum would tap one final command into the console and a metal shielding would fold over the glass of the stasis-pod, the master and creation staring at one another until it had closed over completely. The Tuffle would turn on his heels, fold his arms behind his back and make his way back upstairs, his servants still working dutifully as he left. Entering his ground-level lab, Quatum would shed himself of his lab-coat and toss it on a nearby empty table, the man sitting himself down at a massive half-circle desk covering his face in his hands. He could feel the pressure of the war closing in around himself, his age... not doing him any favors when he needed to bounce-back from the pangs of hopelessness that hit him from time-to-time. His people were dying... and there was NOTHING he could do... CURSE IT! All those bodies... people he used to know. People... he might've even liked.
Dead.
"Blasted sayains..." He muttered, his weariness overtaking him... as he fell asleep.
WC: 538
