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Description
Darkness…

A deep endless darkness, black and lonely, yet so serene and peaceful. Michael knew this was a sort of trance; a drug induced high, but didn’t bother to fight it. In this place he felt completely at ease. No pain or worries. His body seemed to float in this nothingness as if he was weightless. His entire thought process was numb. All he seemed to be able to focus on was the sleepy happiness he felt, as if finely finding a bed after not having slept in days.

Still, even through the haze of sleep brought about by the chemicals pumped into his bloodstream he heard the approaching of footsteps. Why he heard specifically those footsteps was beyond him, more so as the painkillers derived him of any concentration. Still, the footsteps jerked at him in the blackness as if trying to pull him from his slumber. He winced, still keeping his eyes closed. Images where coming back to him.

He knew he was in the laboratory. He had been there a dozen times, sometimes consciously, others subdued, as he was now. He knew the room had a large hexagonal shape, rows of computers lined up against the wall, displaying bright green data on cold ink black screens. The ceiling was on big source of light, diffused and filtered, shedding an eerie mysterious glow on the dozens of scientists hurriedly moving about. The glow gave everything the air of a temple. The center of the hexagonal was dominated by a transparent containers of sorts, set unto a pedestal; the temple’s shrine. It was in this container Michael knew he would find himself, even without having to open his eyes. He had noted it every time he was in this lab, undergoing dozens of tests against his will. Preparations, he know realized.

The footsteps grew louder, drumming hard even through the shielding layer of liquid the paralyzed body of Michael was floating in. Each step resonated powerfully, as if heralding the coming of evil, and in a way Michael knew this to be true. The large reinforced metal doors of the laboratory separated and slid sideways into the wall, providing entrance to four men. The one walking up front, a middelaged man build small in frame and posture, was doctor Moriat, head scientist of whatever facility this was. The second figure, standing a firm two meters and dressed entirely in military power harnass was Lord Benedict, Grand Marshal of the third space fleet of the House of Alyassar. Behind this duo came two praetorian bodyguards, clad in an attire of full power armor.

The four came to a halt in front of the container, bringing a halt to the drumming footsteps that kept echoing still through Michaels secluded world. He heard their voices, even if they were warped and distorted.

“…ut why specifically this one?”

“…n’t just take… precise physic… nd mental conditions…”

He recognized the voice of Lord Benedict and the head scientist.

“…is work?”

“…ient, you can s… n action.”

The drug was wearing of. Or at least, Michael felt his brain pulling itself from this trance. Within the container he winced once more. If at all any of the scientist noted it they didn’t seem to care, moving about there business. Doctor Moriat moved around the container towards a large imposing control panel, dozens of illuminated buttons and displays shining back at him as he tapped his fingers across it with trained speed. Machines began to hum as pumps and filters shot into action. He turned to the grand Marshal once more, continuing his barely audible explanation.

“…ells too fast results in cance…. owth. To preven…. igent organisms that are pr… ifficly how we want t….”

A strange sensation washed through Michael’s body, uncomfortable but not much so. It served however to further pull him from his catatonic state. His eyes moved beneath his eyelids.

“This of cour…. nnergy, hence the host’s body ....apped within a container of enriched Bi-Cal…ite.”

The sensation intensified, now causing a minor irritation over his entire skin. The discomfort roused him but did not overcome the intoxications still being shot into his bloodstream.

“…ll influe…. chromosomes and the DNA of… The real dang… such quick mutat… owth out of contr… en death. The real affect sh… start right about,” A short pause. “Now.”

A pain shot through Michaels being like a bolt of lightning; A searing heat scorching flesh and bone from the inside out. His eyes shot open as his entire body contracted in a massive spasm. The only thing that prevented him from screaming was the metallic mask lodged tightly over his mouth and nose. Series of shivers ran up and down his limbs as pain consumed his mind. Still his body refused to obey his command to pull free the tubing. He watched in terror and agony as the effects of the mutation took place. From seemingly random points of his body his skin began to change color and texture, turning from flesh to a reflective blue. On his lower back his spine seemed to tear its way out as his tale bone deformed and warped to reassume its original purpose. The flesh on his back and arms coiled as fins began to take shape, causing the only piece of cloth still on him, his jeans, to tear open. His lungs burned with white intensity as they were adapted to suit their new purpose in this underwater environment.

“Amazing. Simply amazing.” Lord Benedict muttered to himself. “How long before we can emply this new science in military tactics.

Doctor Moriat’s eyes seemed to sadden a moment as he turned away from the marshal. About to reply his voice failed him somewhat and he coughed, starting over again. “As I’ve said, sir, for now this science can only be applied to only a very few and select individuals, who as you can see often don’t meet the requirements to be trained as soldiers.” He signaled at Michael’s floating body, still contracting under the spasms of pain.

“How long will it take to perfect this technique.” The marshal seemed distinctly uncaring for the massive preparations that went in just this one mutation.

Again the doctor hesitated, looking up at the container in which Michael endured the last contractions before going limb once more, eyes shutting as stress send him unconscious. The doctor’s eyes seemed to grow wet, but his voice remained stable. Still, he didn’t dare to turn to the marshal. “It could take years.”

“You have six months.” The marshal turned on his heels, marching out of the lab with the same drumming paces as he had entered with, his bodyguard turning and following behind him in perfectly synchronized unison.

The head scientist swallowed a pain in his throat and let a tear run down his face. Remorse, sorrow and pity struggled within him. He had tricked the creation of god. His retribution would be terrible.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I love scientific transformations over magical ones, as it gives me something to relate to more. Magic is and always will be fantasy. Science could, even as unlikely, still be. Scientific mutations however are a lot harder to pull of story wise. Cells growing and changing so rapidly will always grow in a completely haphazard random pattern, resulting in cancerous growths and mutations. For something to mutate so specifically one would need extremely super intelligent organisms, meaning cells that have within their genetic codes a sort of construction plan that tells them where and how to react in the host body. Furthermore, a transformation so sudden requires massive amount of energy unlike anything the body could produce. So I came up with Michael being suspended in a container filled with enriched something, from which the body could get its energy externally. Don’t take my word on anything I just said. These are just a few of the things I discovered on the web. My advice, Google it up. You might learn something, and if you’re a role-player (or writer) you can come up with great and realistic sounding stories.

Description
Darkness…

A deep endless darkness, black and lonely, yet so serene and peaceful. Michael knew this was a sort of trance; a drug induced high, but didn’t bother to fight it. In this place he felt completely at ease. No pain or worries. His body seemed to float in this nothingness as if he was weightless. His entire thought process was numb. All he seemed to be able to focus on was the sleepy happiness he felt, as if finely finding a bed after not having slept in days.

Still, even through the haze of sleep brought about by the chemicals pumped into his bloodstream he heard the approaching of footsteps. Why he heard specifically those footsteps was beyond him, more so as the painkillers derived him of any concentration. Still, the footsteps jerked at him in the blackness as if trying to pull him from his slumber. He winced, still keeping his eyes closed. Images where coming back to him.

He knew he was in the laboratory. He had been there a dozen times, sometimes consciously, others subdued, as he was now. He knew the room had a large hexagonal shape, rows of computers lined up against the wall, displaying bright green data on cold ink black screens. The ceiling was on big source of light, diffused and filtered, shedding an eerie mysterious glow on the dozens of scientists hurriedly moving about. The glow gave everything the air of a temple. The center of the hexagonal was dominated by a transparent containers of sorts, set unto a pedestal; the temple’s shrine. It was in this container Michael knew he would find himself, even without having to open his eyes. He had noted it every time he was in this lab, undergoing dozens of tests against his will. Preparations, he know realized.

The footsteps grew louder, drumming hard even through the shielding layer of liquid the paralyzed body of Michael was floating in. Each step resonated powerfully, as if heralding the coming of evil, and in a way Michael knew this to be true. The large reinforced metal doors of the laboratory separated and slid sideways into the wall, providing entrance to four men. The one walking up front, a middelaged man build small in frame and posture, was doctor Moriat, head scientist of whatever facility this was. The second figure, standing a firm two meters and dressed entirely in military power harnass was Lord Benedict, Grand Marshal of the third space fleet of the House of Alyassar. Behind this duo came two praetorian bodyguards, clad in an attire of full power armor.

The four came to a halt in front of the container, bringing a halt to the drumming footsteps that kept echoing still through Michaels secluded world. He heard their voices, even if they were warped and distorted.

“…ut why specifically this one?”

“…n’t just take… precise physic… nd mental conditions…”

He recognized the voice of Lord Benedict and the head scientist.

“…is work?”

“…ient, you can s… n action.”

The drug was wearing of. Or at least, Michael felt his brain pulling itself from this trance. Within the container he winced once more. If at all any of the scientist noted it they didn’t seem to care, moving about there business. Doctor Moriat moved around the container towards a large imposing control panel, dozens of illuminated buttons and displays shining back at him as he tapped his fingers across it with trained speed. Machines began to hum as pumps and filters shot into action. He turned to the grand Marshal once more, continuing his barely audible explanation.

“…ells too fast results in cance…. owth. To preven…. igent organisms that are pr… ifficly how we want t….”

A strange sensation washed through Michael’s body, uncomfortable but not much so. It served however to further pull him from his catatonic state. His eyes moved beneath his eyelids.

“This of cour…. nnergy, hence the host’s body ....apped within a container of enriched Bi-Cal…ite.”

The sensation intensified, now causing a minor irritation over his entire skin. The discomfort roused him but did not overcome the intoxications still being shot into his bloodstream.

“…ll influe…. chromosomes and the DNA of… The real dang… such quick mutat… owth out of contr… en death. The real affect sh… start right about,” A short pause. “Now.”

A pain shot through Michaels being like a bolt of lightning; A searing heat scorching flesh and bone from the inside out. His eyes shot open as his entire body contracted in a massive spasm. The only thing that prevented him from screaming was the metallic mask lodged tightly over his mouth and nose. Series of shivers ran up and down his limbs as pain consumed his mind. Still his body refused to obey his command to pull free the tubing. He watched in terror and agony as the effects of the mutation took place. From seemingly random points of his body his skin began to change color and texture, turning from flesh to a reflective blue. On his lower back his spine seemed to tear its way out as his tale bone deformed and warped to reassume its original purpose. The flesh on his back and arms coiled as fins began to take shape, causing the only piece of cloth still on him, his jeans, to tear open. His lungs burned with white intensity as they were adapted to suit their new purpose in this underwater environment.

“Amazing. Simply amazing.” Lord Benedict muttered to himself. “How long before we can emply this new science in military tactics.

Doctor Moriat’s eyes seemed to sadden a moment as he turned away from the marshal. About to reply his voice failed him somewhat and he coughed, starting over again. “As I’ve said, sir, for now this science can only be applied to only a very few and select individuals, who as you can see often don’t meet the requirements to be trained as soldiers.” He signaled at Michael’s floating body, still contracting under the spasms of pain.

“How long will it take to perfect this technique.” The marshal seemed distinctly uncaring for the massive preparations that went in just this one mutation.

Again the doctor hesitated, looking up at the container in which Michael endured the last contractions before going limb once more, eyes shutting as stress send him unconscious. The doctor’s eyes seemed to grow wet, but his voice remained stable. Still, he didn’t dare to turn to the marshal. “It could take years.”

“You have six months.” The marshal turned on his heels, marching out of the lab with the same drumming paces as he had entered with, his bodyguard turning and following behind him in perfectly synchronized unison.

The head scientist swallowed a pain in his throat and let a tear run down his face. Remorse, sorrow and pity struggled within him. He had tricked the creation of god. His retribution would be terrible.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I love scientific transformations over magical ones, as it gives me something to relate to more. Magic is and always will be fantasy. Science could, even as unlikely, still be. Scientific mutations however are a lot harder to pull of story wise. Cells growing and changing so rapidly will always grow in a completely haphazard random pattern, resulting in cancerous growths and mutations. For something to mutate so specifically one would need extremely super intelligent organisms, meaning cells that have within their genetic codes a sort of construction plan that tells them where and how to react in the host body. Furthermore, a transformation so sudden requires massive amount of energy unlike anything the body could produce. So I came up with Michael being suspended in a container filled with enriched something, from which the body could get its energy externally. Don’t take my word on anything I just said. These are just a few of the things I discovered on the web. My advice, Google it up. You might learn something, and if you’re a role-player (or writer) you can come up with great and realistic sounding stories.