I quickly slid into the knee-long unstained lab coat. I hadn’t worn one of these since my freshman year of college when I took general chemistry. One by one I carefully button up the overcoat, making sure to not miss a hole. Taking a deep breath, calming my nerves, I look down at the poor unsuspecting lab intern I had just mugged. He laid on the floor like a heavy bag of rice. He looked dead but his heart was still beating, I’m no murderer.
I began to pick up his scrawny body and gently laid him on the back seat of his sedan like a bed. I started his car and rolled the windows down a smidge, enough to let cool air in so he doesn’t suffocate. I’m no murderer. I understand that I look rather suspicious right now, but I swear I’m the good guy here! My conscience continues to pierce my sensitive heart with its accusation, but I bury them deep into the recesses of my mind and fix my attention on his uncomfortable lab goggles over my fluffy curly hair and out my chiseled face. I pin his nametag over the left-hand side of my chest. Today I, Ben "Benjamin" Jaime Givvins, am about to perform the greatest conspiracy uncovering since John Marks exposed project MK-Ultra!
What am I about to expose you ask? And why is it so serious that I felt the need to beat up a nerd, steal his clothes, and leave him passed out in his car? If someone gave you a map that led to a treasure of untold riches that would secure you for life wouldn’t you take it? I recently graduated from the Rochester Institute of Technology with a degree in photojournalism. I have student loans to pay, and I have no real weight or reputation to my name. My fossil of a boss thinks I’m a naive child that doesn’t know what he is doing, and my coworkers think I’m a silly baby. Despite my numerous awards from my time in university, in the workplace, they are counted as rubbish.
I need a big story! Something so juicy I’ll be able to win their respect as a reporter. Recently I got an anonymous tip from a worker at a local lab detailing the inhuman practices going on there. It was a slow Monday morning, I was sipping my tall caramel cappuccino while scrolling through my email in boredom. I noticed an unusual email address had sent the Newspaper a message begging for help, and yet for some reason, it was marked as spam. I curiously opened it.
The writer wrote about how he had just been fired from his position. His conscience couldn’t contain it anymore, and he spoke out against his workspace. He wrote of how his employer, The Bradster Laboratory 20 minutes away from the city, had been kidnapping children and experimenting on them to create super soldiers for years! When I brought this email weirdly marked for spam to my higher-ups, they laughed in my face.
“I know you’re new to this and eager to get your hands dirty uncovering a story that’ll make you famous, but you have to realize that not every lead is trustworthy. This is just some disgruntled worker who got fired. He provided no evidence, just baseless claims. There’s a reason why it’s marked for spam” said Jones Goodmen, the head writer for the Paper. I walk about defeated to my desk. I know I know, I need more evidence than an anonymous email before I can make such a lofty accusation of this Laboratory. I was too eager to report on a real story instead of some mundane story on a fire department rescuing a local elderly woman’s cat. So if it's evidence they want, it's evidence they will get. That’s how I ended up here. I know, my motives aren’t exactly noble. But a lot of good will come out of what I’m doing! I can feel it in my gut!
I slide my small Sony mirrorless camera into the large pocket by my right thigh. On it I have an 18mm-70mm kit lens I own. I figured I’d need all the range I can get, I don’t exactly know what I’m going to be getting myself into here. I made sure to have my camera on silent mode so I didn’t blow my cover. I then grab my tiny tape recorder and press record. I slide it into my chest pocket. After a deep breath, I make my way down to the laboratory. I walked with my chest to the sky, if I allowed my body to display anxiety my cover may have been broken.
I am greeted by a short stubby scientist with bushy gray hair. He had thin circular black glasses over his eyes. He too wore a knee-length lab coat, only his wasn’t spotless. Rather it was a tie-dyed mess of various colors from various chemical reactions. His hand was gripping onto a thin wooden clipboard. He extends his boney arm to shake my hand. Our blue latex glove-covered hands lock and sneak as we firmly grip and shake each other's arms. I take a quick glance at his name tag, which is slightly tilted rightwards. Doctor Malvin Kontigo, Head Scientist.
“Are you ready to begin your first day Timothy Gallen?” he says in his old croaky voice. My conscience pinches me again as I look at my nametag, I wince internally and force my head to nod up and down. He walks through dark tinted glass doors and I follow him. The interior of the facility is a plain metallic gray, with blinding led lights illuminating the long lanky hallway. He led me down the corridor and I followed. I slowly reached my hand into my large pocket and grabbed onto my camera. I feel around it until I am certain I have my hand on the grip with my pointer finger hovering over the shutter button.
“Welcome to Bradster Laboratory!” he says enthusiastically. “I know it doesn't look like much, but that's because this is just for show,” she says as he gestures to the various doors and offices that populate the corridor. I'm starting to think that my coworkers were right. There's not much experimentation going on here, they don't even have a microscope or test tube on site. It's just a glorified office space. I'm starting to feel a little downcast, I went through a lot of trouble to get here just to be disappointed. Maybe I should be happy that they aren't conducting illegal experiments on humans and maybe I should be glad they aren't kidnapping children.
"This is what we want to show the media when they come to investigate supposed 'illegal activities', can you believe the accusations they make against it." I'm starting to feel a little ashamed of myself. "Well, they are right!" He says smugly. My eyes beam up as he says it. "The Governments of the world are having another historical arms race. Only this time it is a race to see who will develop the strongest super soldiers the fastest. Here at Bradster Labs, we were using somewhat ‘unconventional’ methods to produce truly high results.” We reach the end of the corridor and start pushing buttons on what appears to be a thermostat. “You might want to get a little closer to me buddy,” he says with his eyebrows raised a smidge. As I step onto the same tile as he, the ground we are standing on begins to sink into the ground. “Welcome to the real Bradster Labs!” He gestures to the various labs and rooms.
“Here at Bradster Labs, we are highly inspired by the biological marvels of mother nature. Mother Nature has produced creatures of incredible strength and feats. Take for example the panther.” He leads me to a glass panel cell. On the other side of the panel is a muscular, fair skin man. His biceps were bigger than his head, and he was covered in silver spots on his arms. “Capable of running up to 50 mph, leaping up to 18 feet off the ground, and capable of great feats of strength. Imagine having a soldier capable of those very things. The enemy troops wouldn't know what hit them. This subject we are currently beholding is the pinnacle of Bradster Laboratory Biological Engineering!” The man on the other side began to growl. His pointy ears twitched, and he turned around and looked at us. His teeth were sharper than the average person, and he had a furrial look in his eyes. “This is Commander Panther, we have been engineering him since he was a young orphan. He has the same capabilities as Mother Nature’s panther. He is a killing machine” says Doctor Kontigo with pride. “Now follow me this way, I’ll show you your first assignment” The doctor walks away and heads back into the main hallway. I quickly grab my camera and snap a picture of the beast of a man. He snaps and leaps onto the panel. I jump a bit back and give a little high-pitched shriek. I hide my camera and run after the Doctor.
He leads me to another room. This room is a huge indoor track. The ceiling resembles a bright morning sky and a gentle breeze runs throughout the room keeping it cool. “This is our current project, Subject C, C for cheetahs. Imagine having a soldier who could outrun a vehicle, and had enough stamina to last for days.” As he speaks I notice a yellow blur running circles around the large football size track. "I know you're new here but I am placing Subject C in your hands. She will do exactly as you say. The Subjects here know there are drastic disciplinary actions for disobedience. Escort her back to her cell, she knows the way back. In a few minutes or so someone will pick you up and escort you to the dining hall." I nod. I'm a little nervous to be alone with her after seeing how the last subject wanted to eat my head. But I'm not going to lose my clue, I'm not going to blow my cover. I turn my attention back to the blur on the track. I can hear it screaming with shouts of joy.
“Subject C is very fast, I can barely keep track of them” I finally mutter.
“Yes, she is! She too is a biological engineering marvel here at Bradster Labs! A super soldier capable of running at speeds up to 70mph, jumping up to 35 feet far and 15 feet high, and has heightened senses. Take good care of her, I have to go attend to some business” he then summons Subject C and leaves the room.
In a blink of an eye, I am hit with a rush of wind. I wince again. The gush takes me back and bit and I shield my eyes from the debris. As I place my hands down I am standing face to face with a woman about 5’3. She is clothed head to top in a skin-tight reflective metallic jumper that was covered in black spots. She had a metallic tail that seemed to have a mind of its own and a narrow helmet with wide goggle-like eyes, a small pink cat nose, and pointy ears protruding from the sides of the cheetah-like helmet. She pushes a button on the back of her helmet and you can see air leak out. She then proceeds to take the helmet completely off, and I am about to see her face. She has dark caramel skin and dirty blonde hair that stops gently at her shoulders. She had similar markings as Commander Panther on her forehead. She looks significantly less intimidating than him despite having the same pointy ears and teeth. She looks sad that her fun is over. "Subject C right? That's what the doctor calls you. Do you happen to have a real name?" I ask her with an inviting smile.
"A real name? Not that I know of. No one has ever cared to give me one. Why do you ask this?" Her eyes start to come to life as if she has been dumped in ice-cold water. She tilts her head from side to side and I can tell she is examining me. These people never thought to give her a name. Makes sense, is it easier to perform cruel acts on a person if they are just an object to you? This is not right.
"Because you are a person, and people have names. Mind if I can you Charlotte?" She starts looking flushed as I ask her.
"S–S-Sure." She manages to say. I can tell by the look in her eyes that this is the first time she's been seen and treated as someone more than a test subject.
“You don’t act like the other scientists, what’s up with you?” She asks suspiciously. I looked around to make sure the other scientists weren’t around.
“My name is Benjamin Givvins and I am a Reporter. I got a tip that this place was performing illegal experiments on people and I came to investigate and blow the lid off this place."