The Wicked ways of Man

I suppose I could call this Creeper v.s Pinhead v.s Jason v.s Freddy v.s Myers, but I didn’t like the way that sounded.
The age is the 22nd century, forty years after the events of Hellraiser, Hellbound. Technology has enabled and enhancement in almost every part of human life, and a corrupt military is heavily funding vast enhancements in the field of human cloning. What made them great? Can it be replicated to serve the war machine? Even with almost perfected technology, no one could have predicted the lost soul may mistake the imitation body… for the original.

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Light…

Flickering, dancing…

Shades of yellow, green, blue… it was so… so very…

But the words weren’t there, the names of the colors passed back into the void about me. They were gone then, and I was bitter. I’d enjoyed it, the light. Damn it, it was gone again. Without it there was nothing to occupy my… what is the word? I don’t really care, but it’s a bitch not to remember…

Wait… what was that? Something was touching me, brushing me. But it wasn’t… was it? I was alone, I’d always been alone. I didn’t mind being alone, not really. Hell, I said always didn’t I? You get use to it before too long. Whatever was there didn’t seem about to leave, or to make more of an effort than it had already put into this. It floated on the edge of my thoughts, just close enough to be noticeable without invading my privacy. How polite of it, what a weird little shit.

A strange wave of feeling, almost indescribable, but there was a word for it…. Amused. The little shit was amused with me! I wanted to tell it to fuck off, think I did, can’t be sure. It stayed amused, still hovering in place.

(Who are you…?)

It was… speaking? I couldn’t hear a tone, a real voice, but that wasn’t my thought. I didn’t know how to answer, wasn’t sure if it deserved an answer.

(Who are you…?)

My teeth grit, this was starting to bug me. (I’m…)

I didn’t have an answer. Before now, I hadn’t needed to be somebody. I was me, in my own place, never questioned it, never thought more of it. Who am I? Does it matter? What the fuck is it to you? (I’m…)

Something faint lingered, deep in the core of me. A strange feeling… It almost hurt. That’s not right, I’ve never hurt before, don’t know what it feels like. Hell, what is pain?

Fire is pain… Fire hurts like a bitch. Fire…

(Who are you…?)

(I’m….)

It wanted a name, I needed a name. Dammit I have a name! I’m…

(I’m Freddy.)

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Lab facility Seven, named so for luck and not for chronological order, was built over a period of sixty two years. It was expanded upon as was necessary, dorms were added for the staff, a cafeteria was installed… It all seemed overdone to the average Joe. It’s just a lab, why the hell are people living there? Why the Hell indeed.

The lab was originally the setting of several cloning experiments. The barn was still outback, and the few surviving animals from the original experiments were monitored there. A horse, a cow, two goats… Of course once animal testing had reached the end of its span the researchers, enabled by a grant from the government, expanded to other things. Could you perfectly duplicate a plant? Could you force it to grow outside of its natural environment? Easily enough accomplished. Could you re-engineer animals to need less food and water? To live in the most inhospitable environments?

That was harder, but in the end it was also accomplished.
Great steps were taken for the bettering of mankind behind those walls… until the true intent of the government was made known. Having sufficient proof that the limits no longer existed, having gained the peoples compliance, the Government posed the question of human cloning to the scientific world. Shock and outrage followed, but after a time… died down.

Well… Just think of the advantages… You need never fear the loss of a loved one due to war… to dangerous occupations, If you could make generic humans, mass-produced soldiers, genetically enhanced males better suited for combat strain, physically and mentally. Men who would not be mourned, or missed, should they die. The great question, how to begin? You need surrogate mothers, willing to carry an experiment, you need human genetic material from which to extract the DNA, and the consent of that individual who might have a clone of themselves in the near future…

It was at this stage that things flagged badly, that the project slowed and, had it not been for some truly impressive funding, would have died in the water. Surrogate mothers were accepted into the compound, consent was given for genetic duplication. Both parties were well compensated for volunteering their aid, of course. Dr. Memphus who had been a member of the board from the moment the initial compound was built declared, in great pride, “A new scientific frontier has been reached!”

He would say that… he was better compensated than most.

…In truth, there was nothing new to this frontier at all. It had all been done before, many, many years in the past. In the past it had been carefully concealed from the public, which allowed them to conceal the disasters to follow. The failures, the wasted lives, hundreds of traumatized individuals… it had been a complete and utter disaster.
Problems with the animal clones had also occurred, and the projects had been canceled, abandoned, or gone underground. Mankind felt secure again, scattered on a variety of stations and worlds, finally managing to restore their own somewhat from the damage of time. It was time to begin anew. It was time to start afresh.

And the doctor had… questionable interests. He was involved in a second experiment that those in the army had a particular interest in. In the history of America, a once powerful nation that spanned a good expanse of continent, there were a few circumstances where both police and army had been powerless to stop individuals from wreaking havoc. What was the final fate of these individuals?

It was clearer for some than for others.
New weaponry had proved efficient where old weaponry failed. Years after a confrontation between two reportedly dead individuals, a Jason Voorhees and a Frederic Krueger, a fire broke out in a wheat field in Georgia. Apparently the two combatants had continued their battle on and off over the years, hunting each other and engaging in brief skirmishes that left the individuals who witnessed them disturbed and frightened.

Taking the situation seriously the police contacted higher powers, and the army was dispatched. Key in this skirmish was the use of a new weapon. It was missile launcher-esque in appearance, and designed to shoot rounds of instant freeze. Originally, it was designed to put out mass forest fires. Found to powerful for the task it was supposedly retired. Instead, it had been modified, re-calibrated to fire smaller rounds, to be worn over the shoulder. It’s funny how such things happen. Both combatants were captured, as well as a large part of the field that the ice clung to.

In this frozen state they were maintained several years. The government was unsure of how to dispose of two apparently dead individuals, so they were to be held in suspension indefinitely, or until a solution could be reached.

That solution came in the form of a world war, and the compound, as well as the area all about it, was destroyed by an atomic bomb. Both subjects are presumed dead.

Another famous individual was a Michael Myers, who hunted down and slaughtered his blood family, and anyone who hindered his progress. Several times he was reported as too injured to survive, and each time it was a mistake on the assessor’s part. Myers did succeed in destroying his family, and shortly after that vanished from the public’s site. It is assumed he died of his wounds, or perhaps even age. Considering the passage of time, it is safe to assume he has left, never to return.

Not at least of his own will.

There are two other beings involved in the experiment so carefully concealed from the public’s eye. Their names are unknown, If they have names, and so both are called as numbers by the staff.

The first of these is a bizarre beast, subject 94. It was recorded to rise from the earth in the spring, disappearing for twenty three years to appear for twenty three days. Carnivorous, it preyed upon humans who lived or passed through its territory range. It seemed unwilling to leave the mentioned territory, which lead to hunts for it within the area. How many it killed is unphathomable, an estimate has never been attempted.

It distinguished it victims by scent, taking what it pleased where and when it pleased. Occasionally it would leave survivors, though this was rare. Always these individuals were disfigured somehow, something was missing that should not be.
It flew on bat-like wings, it killed with a vast range of weaponry, most of it seemingly handmade. Apparently it also had a fondness for trucks, and possessed a knowledge of mechanics that allowed these vehicles to be enhanced. Locals referred to it as, The Creeper.

It perished in the first year of the War, after its territory was destroyed and irreversibly polluted by the radiation. Witnesses passing through the area, fleeing another strike, claimed they saw it rise into the sky screaming. It thrashed, then its wings broke, and it fell to the earth like a stone. Perhaps the radiation had killed it, perhaps the fall. Whatever the cause it was destroyed. Witnesses took pieces of the demon; some were still being used as decorations years later.

It was a close thing but enough of the creatures DNA remained for duplication, and the beast was grown in a support tank on the lowest level of the compound.

That floor also houses another curiosity.
The last member of the experiment is also unnamed, subject 95a & 95b. There have been painfully few reported sighting of this demon that can be considered more than the fabrication of a deeply disturbed mind. It has, supposedly, appeared from time to time throughout history. Oddly enough, not always with the same face. I has been spotted either as a British Army captain, or a pale, mutilated creature, a self proclaimed Cenobite. Video footage still holds his image from two different incidents. Security camera’s in a nightclub, and again, security cameras in an artistic building designed by a man named John Merchant.

His final appearance was captured on film forty years ago, upon the space station Minos. The video footage was the only thing that prevented the engineer of the station and its destroyer, Dr. Paul Merchant, from a life sentence of incarceration. Paul Merchant calls the creature, “A Demon.” And was unable to give any label beyond that. He claimed it originated in Hell, and was only able to enter the station through an ancient doorway called the Lament Configuration. Supposedly, the door has been destroyed.

The destruction of the station left chunks of debris been scattered over a good distance. As the salvage crews had patrolled, seeking the stations black boxes, they had come across a piece of shielding bent almost into a ball. Nestled within was a chunk of the demons shoulder, leather and all.

Upon reaching the lab the sample was already decaying, its structure breaking apart from the stressors. The DNA split, to their amazement, into two separate, individual, and compatible strands. They could not be re-fused in the lab, and so from one sample two beings were sprung. A human clone, housed on the upper level…

And a humanoid demon, housed beside the creeper in the high security level.

Six subjects in all, two tank grown, and the other four tank introduced after the nine month gestation. Their awakenings were not scheduled to co-inside, and the subsequent programming to follow was still being debated.
But it is often the best laid plans that go so terribly awry.