Mortimer, page 25
part #6 of Everybody Loves Large Chests Series
The Foundation’s eggheads certainly needed all the resources they could get, because they had their work cut out for them. Even though the Republic government had also supplied them with an entire library’s worth of Tol-Saroth’s personal journals, data logs, and research notes, much of the information was fragmented, disjointed, or outright missing. Worse still, it wasn’t just the ravages of time that had caused these gaps in the information, but Tol-Saroth himself. While he was certainly an unparalleled genius in many fields, neither documentation nor organization seemed to have been among his strong points. He also had the rather worrisome habit of rapidly moving from one project to the next, leaving many of them incomplete. A number of his ideas never even made it past a hastily-scribbled note in the margins of a book, though that was perhaps for the better.
Suffice it to say, the Foundation did not believe the world was ready for amphibious sharks capable of emitting destructive beams of energy from their eyes.
Thankfully, only a small part of what he left behind sounded like the ravings of a madman. Developing his more practical, albeit morally ambiguous concepts often yielded fascinating results. One such outcome was Honoka’s Attitude Adjuster formula, which had arisen as a byproduct of her work on Project Third Autumn. That endeavor was aimed at replicating and recreating Tol-Saroth’s super-soldier serum, an aggressive body-altering compound that would, in theory, permanently increase a subject’s basic physical abilities by up to 200%. This immense power boost would then be further amplified by the individual’s Attributes, resulting in what was essentially a pseudo Rank Up. That made the concept exceptionally attractive and there was no shortage of funding or volunteers eager to turn it into a reality.
Unfortunately, reality rarely agreed with theory, especially when it came to Tol-Saroth’s unfinished works. Project Third Autumn was something that Honoka had been struggling with ever since the Foundation’s inception, and she and her bosses had pretty much given up on it at this point. Even though they’d been able to produce a serum that delivered on the promised body enhancements, it always came with crippling, sometimes lethal side-effects. One version of the serum put too much strain on the body’s cardiovascular system, resulting in critical heart failure after three to five days. The next iteration caused permanent paralysis of the right side of the test subject’s body, and the one after that royally screwed with a person’s brain chemistry in a way that sent them into a feral rage akin to a rabid animal. As horrific as they were, these failures were still not as bad as the serum’s earlier iterations. Honoka swore she could still see the horrific stains her first attempt left on her lab’s walls, despite the fact that every surface in that room had been replaced several times since that incident.
Perhaps worst of all, Honoka and her crew had no choice but to use their own kind as test subjects, as the serum was specifically tailored to work with elven physiology. At least, the Foundation had the common courtesy of subjecting only condemned bandits and unrepentant criminals to such vile experiments whenever possible. That still didn’t help Honoka sleep at night. At the very least, their suffering hadn’t been completely for naught. Project Third Autumn had given rise to multiple new venues of research, most notably the Attitude Adjuster. This particular compound had been created as a result of Honoka’s work with the iteration of the super-soldier serum that turned people into gibbering lunatics. Studying, isolating, and further refining its mind-altering properties had provided monumental insight into how one might use alchemy to permanently influence an individual’s behavior.
Depending on how it was mixed, Attitude Adjuster could transform the most vicious of monsters into docile servants or turn the meekest of herbivores into violent killers. While its potency was completely assured, it had two notable flaws. The mixture was highly unstable and lost its potency within minutes of being prepared, forcing Honoka and her assistants to prepare it on-site instead of bringing a ready-made dose. The second caveat was that prolonged exposure to Attitude Adjuster was necessary to make its effects permanent. The target had to be subjected to repeated doses at regular intervals, which required a not-insignificant investment of time and resources to prepare the necessary amount.
Fortunately for Honoka, neither of those things were much of a problem. The government footed the bill while her assistants handled the majority of the prep work, so all she had to do was perform the final mixing and administer the treatment. She also constantly fine-tuned the recipe in order to raise its potency and cut down the number of doses needed to make the effect permanent. Thanks to her efforts, the process that once took months could now be completed in as little as a week, maybe two or more if the subject was especially strong-willed. The mixture was, essentially, an assault on one’s psyche, and individuals with stronger egos were much more difficult to break.
The professor had every reason to believe this particular case would be a lengthy one, given who and what the specimen was. Boxxy T. Morningwood had revived much sooner than anticipated – well before her preparations were complete – suggesting a nigh-indomitable spirit lay underneath that mass of flesh and violence. Furthermore, the analysis of its corpse revealed it had obtained a staggering amount of Mental Fortitude (MNT), primarily derived from its Demonology-focused Warlock Job. Even if Resurrection Sickness cut its Attributes’ effects in half, that was still a lot of MNT for the Attitude Adjuster to work through. This debilitating condition would gradually lessen in severity as time went on, which was why Honoka felt it vital to begin the treatment as soon as possible. She assumed Specimen 68’s mind to be a fortress and wanted to get a few good assaults in while its walls were still cracked.
Thus, she was rather frustrated when Specimen 68 woke up so early. She needed an entire day to finish preparations, which gave its Resurrection Sickness enough time to lessen its Attribute penalty from 50% to 40%. It would go down to 32% after one more day, 25% the day after that, then drop to 10% after a full week as the forcibly reestablished link between body and soul gradually healed over time. It would still take upwards of twenty days for the shapeshifter to return to prime condition, which was plenty of time to facilitate its ‘rehabilitation therapy.’ Still, missing that early window was a significant setback to Honoka’s schedule. That didn’t seem too bad in and of itself, but it made Zilla’s concerns regarding the creature all the more worrying. This in turn made her feel strangely on edge, as if she was chasing a deadline that she couldn’t quite see.
Honoka shook her head to clear away such troublesome thoughts and started mentally preparing for the task at hand. She hated to admit it, but the thought of mixing volatile chemicals anywhere near that creature wasn’t an appealing one. That terrifying show it put on for Malon’s benefit had gotten to her too, though she did a much better job of hiding it. Intelligent monsters never failed to take advantage of their adversary’s fears and insecurities, so she had to be extra careful not to fall for its psychological warfare while performing her duties. That creature had a real gift for unnerving others, and judging from yesterday’s reports, it had continued to make strange noises for most of the day and well into the night. She was going to prepare the Attitude Adjuster just outside its holding cell, which meant she had to prepare herself to endure some constant screeching while she worked. It wasn’t the first time she’d be handling sensitive substances in such an environment, so she was confident she wouldn’t let those noises get to her.
Or at least that’s what she thought until she and her three assistants actually arrived at the holding cell. The atmosphere in front of the circular bulkhead was certainly abnormal, though in a completely different way from what she was expecting. It was quiet. Too quiet. Not only that, but the quartet of guards stationed outside the door seemed unnaturally tense when they saluted her.
“What’s going on here?” she asked with a hand on each hip.
“N-nothing, ma’am,” replied one of the men with a slight stutter. “Business as usual.”
Honoka eyed him up and down. His blue-tinted guard uniform and calf-high army boots were standard attire for the base’s security personnel, but she couldn’t quite place his face. She was never very good with faces, so she was unsure if the two of them were personally introduced, especially since all these grunts looked pretty much the same. On the other hand, the fact she didn’t actually know the man was important in and of itself, as it meant he was a nobody, much like the other three.
And therein lay the second problem.
“Why are there only four of you?” she asked in a nagging tone. “I told Simmons to triple the guard detail, and unless my math is horribly off, four times three does not equal four!”
Honoka’s demanding tone of voice made the man even more nervous. If it was Malon or any of the other stuck-up know-it-alls, he would brush it off without a second thought. However, the fact that it was this woman in particular made him feel somewhat awkward. After all, she was one of the good ones. She didn’t get mad or yell at people unless they really deserved it, so the way that she was raising her voice at him made him feel like a snot-nosed brat getting scolded by a tired mother. And judging from the uneasy glances from the lab assistants behind her, he was definitely not the only one who got that impression.
“Where is Simmons, anyway?!” she asked, raising her hands in the air as if giving up.
“The Dec- I mean, Mr. Simmons, is currently off duty, ma’am. And, uh, he did actually post twelve of us here, as per your instructions, ma’am.”
“Did he now? And where, pray tell, are the others?!”
“Inside, ma’am.”
“They’re what?!” she shrieked. “Why?!”
“It’s, uh, hard to explain,” he said evasively. “Project Legacy should be in there with them, so I doubt the prisoner would act up if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“‘Should be?’ What do you mean ‘should be?!’ No, never mind, I’ll see for myself!”
She somewhat rudely shoved the guard aside and reached out to touch the security panel. After sampling her blood and confirming her identity, the vault door once more rolled open to the side. Honoka didn’t wait for it to fully open before she practically stormed into the room, ready to give everyone an earful. However, the words got stuck in her throat when she saw the scene before her. Within the cube of solid light that had ever-shifting arcane sigils crawling over it was an excessively large barrel. An almost identical barrel was sitting immediately outside the radiant cell. Eight armed guards huddled around a bit off to the side, one of whom was holding a large top hat upside down. He presented the headwear to his colleague, who reached inside and pulled out a piece of folded paper, which was promptly unfolded and read aloud.
“Volcano!”
Both barrels began transforming. Their shape became gradually more conical, darker, and distinctly more rugged. Sure enough, mere seconds later, both containers had transformed into imitations of volcanoes. The guards let out a low murmur as if evaluating what they were seeing. This went on until the one inside the Stasis Field suddenly let out a jet of flames in a mock eruption.
“Woooah!” cheered the men with a light round of applause.
“Winner!” exclaimed the hat-bearer while pointing at the impromptu firework display. “Alright, next!”
A second guard drew a different piece of paper, and read aloud another word.
“Trap!”
Yet again, both monsters began transforming. This time, however, they took on vastly different appearances. The one on the outside of the magical cage, obviously Zilla, rapidly took on a more humanoid shape and ducked inside its own Storage portal. On the other side, Boxxy decided to go with a more classical, rectangular look. It adopted its preferred chesty form, the wooden lid ever-so-slightly ajar to show off a set of irregular jagged teeth normally found on a dungeon mimic. Next, Zilla emerged from his private pocket dimension in the form of a lovely young girl in an unbearably cute, frilly yellow dress and a pair of short booties, allowing the flawless skin of her arms and legs to shine through. She had large, brown eyes and chestnut hair done up in a stylish ponytail, topped off by a wooden diadem decorated with painted carvings of marigolds and daisies. As usual, Zilla’s fashion sense was top-notch, evidenced by how this ensemble radiated purity and innocence.
As for the audience, they seemed understandably puzzled by this appearance.
“Uhhh, Zilla?” spoke up the ring-leader. “Are you sure you heard the word correctly?”
“It was ‘trap,’ wasn’t it?”
He answered in a deep, masculine baritone entirely at odds with that feminine appearance.
“Oh?” exclaimed the guard. “Oh! Ohhhhhh! Oh.”
He looked around at the others, all of whom were cringing at Zilla’s version of a ‘trap.’ At least they could understand Boxxy’s rendition with but a glance. After all, very few people could resist a splendid treasure chest’s allure. Even experienced adventurers sometimes fell victim to those devious mimics. Yet, the idea of an androgynous young lad cross-dressing just felt outright wrong, hence the twisted expressions on all their faces. Except for Rupert, but Rupert was always a bit of a weirdo, so they collectively ignored him.
“Winner!”
“Yessshhaaa!”
The hat-holder declared Boxxy the victor in this round of… whatever this was. It celebrated its win with a triumphant hiss accompanied by a little spider-leg-assisted jig while the audience let out a much-too-polite round of applause.
“What the fuck are you people doing?!”
The ongoing festivities ground to a complete halt as Honoka loudly and succinctly enunciated each and every word of her extremely valid complaint.
“Oh, hey Honoka!” responded Zilla with a casual wave, still in trap form. “Didn’t see you there!”
The color drained from the eight guards’ faces so fast that the elven researcher found herself momentarily worried if they might faint.
Only momentarily, though.
“Out! All of you!”
The guilty partly rapidly filed out of the holding cell while the violent tempest of a box waved goodbye at them with a severed arm held up by a wide, fleshy tongue. Whether that appendage was real or one of its tricks was definitely a valid question, but not one Honoka wanted to think about. Whatever the case may have been, she quickly had all the guards line up in a single row outside the chamber. The professor stood directly in front of the one most likely responsible for this debacle, crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow, and began questioning him in front of the others.
“So. Zilla. Care to explain what you were doing in there?”
The former house mimic had slipped back into his Jones Alexis persona and was currently standing on the far left side of the rank and file.
“We were just playing a friendly game of shaperades. I was winning thirty-six to thirty-one, by the way.”
“Shaperades?” she muttered in disbelief.
“Oh, it’s like charades, but for shapeshifters. Boxxy taught it to me.”
“That’s not what I-! Look, you were the one that said we needed to be extra vigilant around that thing, right?”
“Indeed.”
“In fact, I distinctly remember you warning us repeatedly to be extremely careful around it.”
“That I did.”
“And yet you were in there… playing games with it?”
“That about sums it up, yeah.”
“Why?! Why would you ever do such a thing?!”
“Because I got bored just standing there, and shaperades is an entertaining way to practice my shapeshifting while keeping an eye on my prisoner. It’s a win-win-win, if you think about it.”
“Did Specimen 68 talk you into this?!”
“… Maybe.”
“I don’t believe you! You should know it’s just trying to study your weaknesses!”
“Honoka, that’s a Ranked Up mimic in there. It has command over one of the most advanced Mana Locator Glands in existence, second only to a beholder’s. I should know, I use it too. That and it very nearly killed me before it went down. Believe me, it already knows exactly where to hit me to make it hurt.”
“But what if it tries something while your guard is down!?”
“You of all people should know I never let my guard down. Besides, it won’t dare try anything when I’m around.”
“How can you be so sure?!”
“Because, Honoka, I know for a fact it’s not stupid. Sure, it was almost a match for me when we fought topside, but things are different now. I know all of its tricks, and I still have a few of my own up my sleeve. It also doesn’t have the support of its familiars and lost all of its items and supplies. It stands no chance of winning a rematch, and that’s without factoring in the Resurrection Sickness. It’s fully aware the odds are stacked against it and wouldn’t dare force my hand.”
“Uh-huh. Sure it won’t. I mean, genocidal abominations are always such bastions of logic, reason, and common sense.”
“They are?!” he responded, genuinely surprised. “I never would’ve guessed!”
Honoka let out a heavy sigh, allowing her hands and head to dangle off her torso like wet laundry off a clothesline. She had momentarily forgotten that Zilla never quite got sarcasm.
“No, they’re not,” she groaned. “They’re actually quite vicious, and you should never trust any of them. Especially that one.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. I knew that.”
“Right, so, promise me you won’t indulge that thing anymore, okay? Just don’t interact with it if you can help it.”
“Alright, I won’t.”
“Good,” said Honoka with a nod. She pointed towards the edge of the metal tunnel. “Now go stand in the corner and think about what you’ve done.”
“Oh… Alright…”
The dozen guards who had witnessed that entire exchange watched with bemused expressions as the pompously designated Project Legacy was sent into time-out like an unruly child. Moments like this made it somewhat difficult to keep in mind that Zilla was without a doubt the most lethal individual in the facility.
