Installment #4: For Science

Super excited for this upload! I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while now and hope you like it!

      "Griffin Golamundii" said a resonating voice. Griffin slowly tore himself from his darkened state. Glancing drearily about the room, he saw a room with a disturbing glow to it. As his drugged vision dilated his situation became more evident, as what were nondescript blurs condensed into the bars of a cage. He breathed sharply at the fact that he was in the cage and that outside the cage crouched the Masked Man. 

     Struggling to the opposite side of the cage, "Where am I?" Griffin asked out of desperation.

     "This will be a place for you to remember," said the man wrapping his fingers around the bars of the cage "... for when you leave here you will be a scientific achievement."

     A studious looking man entered the room "I'm sure he's flattered, but I suggest that we get this over with as soon as possible." The Masked Man stood and turned to leave, "Will you be present for the experimentation?"

     "I'm afraid not. I have pressing matters and the such." 

     "Very well, I will inform you of the results." Pursuing the Masked Man out the doorway.  

     "I look forward to it." Said the Masked Man not turning his head in any way.

     The educated looking man turned back to face Griffin though never making actual eye contact "Do I really need to tell not to try anything smart?" Griffin merely glared back. "I thought you would say that. By the way, you can call me Milton."

     Griffin cocked his head "Milton?" he said dubiously. 

     Milton merely smiled. Two men entered the room and made way for the cage. Pulling the still half limp boy from the cage. Milton stopped pouring over his notes to examine the boy. Grabbing an instrument, he engaged it and began to wave it around Griffin. "Vitals are good considering what we sedated you with..." He said with a tone of humor as the child's head bobbed about "We will need to wake him up before the infusion."

he proclaimed. Turning back to his desk he returned with a syringe, and drove it into the kids neck. "Wait for it..."

     Griffin's perception all of the sudden blasted open as his adrenaline spiked and his senses purged like a crumble dam. The two men struggled to hold him still as he shook violently with incredible energy. "By the stars! What did you put him on!" Barked one of the men to 'Milton'. 

     "A preview." He answered simply "Place him in the device."

     "What device?" Groaned the other man in obvious exertion. 

     "The resonance chamber." Milton answered through a humored grin. "Don't worry we're not turning him to dust."

     The two men took Griffin down the hallway and into what appeared to be a large warehouse. In the middle stood a temporary medical booth, comprising of amber hued, sterile plastic sheeting, that hung from a metal frame. Medical equipment and monitors of every sort were set up outside. Long cables and tubing webbed out from under the tent like structure. The men entered as a lab assistant pulled back the curtain, and strapped him to a gurney like bed. Two lab workers then fixed a clear case over Griffin and the cot. Numerous tubes and cords hooked into the case. 

     'Milton' took his station at a large board of knobs and sliders and looked to the medical booth. He only his silhouette through the yellow barrier "Like a rat in amber." he mused. "Battle stations." He ordered, as he powered up the numerous functions of his device "Today we make history."

     Griffin saw the tubes light up and felt his skin tingle. He heard a scientist outside, "Resonance is calibrated to his frequency." he reported. 

     "Increase intensity." Ordered another "Continue until he enters a gaseous state."

     Griffin screamed as the pressure of the chamber pushed the air out of him, and as the air began to disassemble him at the molecular level. "He is in evaporative suspension." Said one of the white coats "Begin infusion?" 

     "Yes." 

     Green gas seeped from the tubes a into the chamber, slowly filling the chamber and sharing the same space of air with Griffin's body. 

     "Process is complete." Announced 'Milton' "Reconstitute him."

---

     

     Griffin was jolted out of sleep by the sound of the warehouse's gate getting smashed in. Scientists and thugs clamored for cover from scorching bolts of metal as they shredded through through the main garage. Unwittingly a bullet broke the seal on Griffin's container, he rolled out and jumped to cover. As he watched the warehouse get torn to pieces with a racing pulse, his senses accelerated. The world slowed down around him as his brain began to accelerate and process at superhuman speed. He knew he needed to escape and stood amongst the chaos. 

     He took a step forward and watched as the cement floor cracked under the force. He weaved in and out of bullets and debris as they stood still, suspended in time. 

Installment #3: Playing God

WOO NEW POST

Sorry for the long wait busy schedule (Video games can't play themselves)

Be sure to leave feed back and be honest :D 

WARNING: If you haven't read any of the other posts be sure to! (chronologically of course)      

     When the aliens first attacked they brought the dragons with them, they used them for many tasks. The largest ones were used as steeds, the Howlers would ride them into battle sending fear into their foes. While the smaller ones were used by the aliens, in the way a falconer would use a bird of prey; couriers, reconnaissance, hunting, etc. Other kinds of dragons lacked wings and even others were serpents, the variety was huge but all were recognized as being part of the dragonic family. 

     It is theorized that the ancient tales of dragons that were popular prior to the invasion were derived from from the same dragons. That, before the invasion the aliens had sent scouts to reconnoiter and with them came dragons, and were thus seen by early civilizations. Thus it was logical that these large, reptile-like, and in some cases fire breathing aliens inherited the name 'Dragon".

     While most held held dragons as being filthy, unpredictable, or  just dangerous, others saw an untapped potential in the boundless flexibility of the dragon genome. Gaph Aldaro was the first to exploit this. His practice/lab sits perched on a fire-scarred mountainside along the earthland border, for this reason it is also a military base of operations. Aldero houses the soldiers, and provides his choice breeds in exchange for lucrative funding, and the protection that such a... risky science requires. 

     Gaph generally relished negotiating deals and other political banter that came as a reciprocation of playing god. But when his primary benefactor, a military man, inquired of his findings and progress, it sent ice into his back. Having recently received notice that said benefactor was again curious, he went into a fear induced frenzy to prepare the facility in preparation of the obligatory assessment. When he arrived he was a skilled man in hiding his true nervous nature. "I hope it isn't out of place for me to inquire of the reason for your visit?"

     "Not at all..." Began the decorated official "I'm hear to make what you may call a pitch, and perhaps a raise."

     Aldaro tryed not to look stunned as his funding was already generous as it was "A pitch seems out of place for a man like yourself." the man raised his brow. "... not that I'm stopping you that is."

     "Of course not." Grinned the man as he stared out the office's expansive window. "As you know I'm a man of war. I prefer to settle differences rather than sit idly."

     "The cold war must be torture." Gaph interjected.

     "Precisely!" The man exclaimed turning to face Gaph "... Mr. Aldaro, if and when the stalemate breaks we must be ready, only the side who acts the fastest will win. It will be a scramble to gain that upper hand and those freaks know that just as well as we do." 

     "And you have an idea that will give us that upper hand?" 

     "Yes! Consider this, what if humans could ride dragons? What if we could amass a whole cavalry of men and women who would leave nothing but ash's in their trails?"

     "Then that could very well even the battlefield if not give us the upper hand you speak of."

     "Exactly. I hereby task you with creating a breed receptive to being tamed. Along with that I'll provide a monetary incentive." The man made his way for the door.

     Gaph called after him "Sir. Your looking forward to this war aren't you?" he asked.

     He shrugged "I am a man of war."

     Gaph crash landed in his chair and reflected on what he just learned. compiling info, listing possible specimens and visualizing genes. All while subconsciously doubting, he knew he feared that man but never why, Perhaps this is why. Because he's a warrior with no war, a soldier without orders. He craves war, and has all he needs to get what he wants."  

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I feel I should encourage you to comment on what the blog has so far. If you have suggestions, pro's and cons, or other thoughts I would love to hear them. I'm no Frank Herbert so the feedback will come in handy. So comment away!

Installment #2: Death Reception

     I you haven't read the first installment please do so!

      In the years of the Xeno Cold War, tolerance of crime was short. Treason was often a crime charged against criminals  despite probably having no association with the Howlers in the first place. As a result mortality of criminals increased with executions, and prisons shrunk in population as more and more convicted were also charged under suspicion of being Sqaukers (Slang for a human who spies on behalf of aliens). 

     The frequency of executions such as these made them a kind of norm, people took little notice but were still very aware of the dangers of crime. In this case though the criminal was a member of the Border Patrol. A division of brave men who's duty was to defend the Earth (Slang for human controlled land) from, primarily Howlers though most of their efforts are spent fighting off the dragons. Since this man was a former soldier his execution required the presence of ranked officials. Among the summoned officials was Vlandis Haltham a five star general strategic philosopher, and politician. 

     Vlandis was a tall man with a lean build for his age, his deep set eyes were old but still sparked with passion. His hair was a wolfish gray and was receding to show his well polished scalp. He wore a luxurious brown leather jacket with a quilted red lining, silver fur collar, and silver button brackets. A casual event in, relative respects, was catered with appetizers and beverages for the high men and women in attendance. While waiting for the proceedings of the capital punishment most of the attendees struck up conversation. 

     Vlandis approached the Border Patrol squad leader with which the criminal served. "Stoverin Padolski. Headman of the 279th border squad."

     The now perplexed looking Headman turned "General. Have we met sir?" His rough disposition curving off in the presence of his superior.

     "No. You may call me Vlandis. It's a shame that one of your men has been found a Sqauker, it's a tarnish to our forces."

     "Indeed it is a shame." He obliged.

     "I should hope..." Vlandis stiffened "... that none of your other men are of the same business, and that you find the source of this rebellious nature."

     "Sir, I should hope that you don't suspect me of condoning such behavior." said Stoverin losing his tact.

     "Are said suspicions wrong." Vlandis said in a concluding sense before dismissing the conversation. He made way to one of the politicians present in the small audience. "Allliezar."

     The man turned, his body brandished a protruding gut and overall he reflected an indulgent life. With an opulent robe of fine furs and silken pants he was no stranger to making his wealth apparent. "Haltham!"

     "It has been a long time hasn't it." Vlandis grinned.

     "Years in fact. How times have changed." Alliezar said looking up and down Vlandis.

     "And how they haven't it seems." Vlandis mused. The chubby man nodded. "The cold war has made sure that hasn't it!"

     "Of course. Neither Aliens nor humans want to end the world." he cocked his head "It makes you wonder why they haven't left yet... their are plenty of other systems to colonize aren't their?" 

     "Well as long as they're too stubborn to leave I'll be making sure we're ready to blow back to their star system."

     The man laughed shaking his goiter most obscenely "I wouldn't trust anyone else to it."

     "I hope to see the end of this standoff, whether or not we win, I just want it to end so we can proceed with a real war! And so I can feel the heat of battle once more before I'm too old." 

     The room in which they were in had a glass wall looking in to the killing chamber. The room was sterile of any life forms and had only a door and a large chair with straps and glowing probes. The door into the inside opened and entered two suited guards and the prisoner. 

     One of the governors nearby shivered "What a grisly way to die."

     Vladmir snorted "I haven't a shred of empathy for the man..."

     As the man was strapped into the chair more of the probes placed themselves on the key points on the man's body. The device once activated would send resonating frequencies through the body tuned at a point at which it would literally disintegrate the man at the atomic level. It was quick though not painless according to theory, and all that was left was dust.

     The two guards left the man in the chair and sealed the door behind them. The crimes of which he was convicted were announced over the intercoms built into the room. As the proceedings were carried out the men and women present gathered to respect the ceremonies. Vladmir was naturally farther back in the crowd being as tall as he was.

     "Empathy is for times of peace." Vladmir said stoically. The prisoner began to shake and froth at the mouth as the waves began to agitate the molecules of his body. The Criminal let out an agonized scream and vaporized, his remains swirling through the chamber.

     "These are times of war." said Vladmir eyeballing the back of Stoverin's head, but in a scrutinizing way.  

Installment #1: Griffin's Enrollment

     This is the first installment in what's for now dubbed the Spitfire Chronicles. I think I'll next write a political short next to establish the major conflict of humanity!  

     The neighborhood children enjoyed playing runeball in the sunny afternoons. forgetting the world, the Xeno War, and the dragons that patrolled and harassed the human borders. The children squealed and hooted delightedly as they attempted making hoops with only their feet. Being lower income citizens they didn't have particularly nice cloths, patched jackets with cheap respirators from the Moabel Commission which made it mandatory for minors to have breathing protection after the Neurotoxin Raids of 453. Grimy and smugged, life expectancy for children like these was low, and few high class humans were adopting. 

     One of the children, named Griffen, noticed Rhoj III purging over the horizon and new that that was his curfew. He began to head home at a brisk pace, a healthy specimen for the degraded state of his district, with a spry build, Scusian complexion, and hair short he always had his hood up to cover his face. Taking his favorite route to the roofs of the run down suburban, he turned down the alley next to the Dragon's Growler Pub. 

     Being street smart he avoided eye contact by keeping his head down. He had often heard about the men who attended such places, scumbag robbers, raiders, and scavengers. When he was far enough down the alley he looked up just in time to see a man running at him from behind a waste atomizer. Griffin quickly avoided the man's lunge and took flight to a ladder. After recovering the attacker reached the ladder by the time the boy was several rungs above his head. When the man tried to grab Griffin's leg he planted a glancing kick to the man's masked face. 

     Griffin ran from roof top to roof top, ducking and weaving through makeshift squater camps and air vents at a break-neck pace. He rounded the corner of an air disperser to find the same man leaning relaxedly against the rusted side panel. The man wore a black mask with a built in respirator and visual augments that made the eye lenses glow an alien shade of blue. His jacket was weathered but well fitting with a military design. 

     "So surprised?" he said as he stepped forward with his hands up inquisitively "You didn't think I could outrun a little cheeper like you did ya!" in an instant he was inches away from Griffin's face with sharp tendrils protruding from one of his gauntlets. 

     Griffin was pinned to the side of the air pump and squirmed mightily. "What do you want freak!"

     "No! What do you want!" the man corrected. After pausing he said "You want to live of course, you want... a normal life, friends, family and a place to call home. Thats what any normal kid wants of course, but those are luxuries that I am denying you."

     Griffin stopped and realized the weight of the man's words "To dragon dump you are! You isn't my boss!" he cried defiantly.

     Ignoring the phrase the man got closer "By the time I'm done with you... you will be no normal person... you will be special."

     Griffin could almost see the man's ambition through the concealing mask, the excitement of a madman. "What do you want."

     "You can get around pretty smartly can't ya? Take this," the man handed him a small metal case the size of a pocket notebook. "There's two men in the Dragon's Growler who need this... get the picture?"

     "What of my mom? I'll be late cuz of you!" Griffin asked.

     "Don't worry." he said with a silly tone "That won't matter."

     Griffin nodded and made to go were he had came from. Back over, and under piping and valves, through the squater village, and down the fire escape. He slowed to a walking pace as he neared the pub and opted not to put his head down for fear he might look like a pick pocket. He entered with wary slowness. The bar's activity slowed down with his arrival. He slowly made way to the bar since it was the only action that came to his mind. He began looking from man to man, some were higher class pressed suits and ties, others were industrial workers and then others who fell in between. Then two men made way to him tugging their jacket seams as they got up.

     One had a jacket with styling similar to the masked man's but it hung lower. His face held three scars like a claw had slashed across it, and stubble. The other man did not wear the same style jacket but rather wore a flamboyant vest that was bursting at the seems with exotic furs. Both had firearms strapped to their legs. 

     The flamboyant one took the lead "Come outside kid..." Griffin obliged.