{*Editors Note*: This story occurs sometime after the events of Detective Comics # 37.} --Prologue: Outbreak—Somewhere near San Diego....The base more resembled a small fortress than a research lab, at least from the outside. It was halfway buried into a hill, Theoretically, that was part of the security.
Of course, theories didn't always work out in reality.
The base had thirty-seven personnel, not counting the volunteers for their little experiment.
Four men sat and watched in shadows. This was a bold, dangerous experiment into controlling the human psyche, one, all of them knew was dangerous. But all of them, each in their own way, for their own reasons, were determined to see it through. They could literally be deciding the future of the human race in this little lab.
“You're sure the genome is stable,” one of them said.
“The genome is not the problem,” another answered. “It never was.” He ran a hand over his blond hair. “It's using contagion as a delivery system that worries me.”
“You are all such worrywarts,” the leader of the group said. He stood up, smoothed down his high-priced business suit, and turned away. “Proceed with the tests, I will continue to insure our cash flow is undisturbed. Good day, gentlemen.”
The heavy steel door cracked open, slid sideways on its track, and let him out. It slid back into place behind him and the lock reset with an audible
clunk.
“That money grubbing Philistine has no concept of what we're doing,” one of the remaining men sneered.
“He is the only reason we can do it at all,” the blond man answered. “And please let none of us here pretend that any real sense of idealism guards our actions.” His voice hardened. “We are in the business of genetic research to control humanity. And some here have made more dangerous mistakes with our genome mutations and method of delivery than he has with our finances.”
None had an answer to that.
“So, since you are so bound and determined to begin the test, begin it we shall.”
He sat back down, and they turned their swivel chairs to face away from the door. A chamber opened, and several of their research assistants stood around a table, two volunteers strapped down. These two had been paid lots of money. But of course they hadn't been told exactly what they would be injected with.
“We are ready,” one of the technicians said through an intercom.
“Then begin,” the blond man answered.
The assistants injected the man first, the syringe of bright green liquid slowly delivering its payload into his veins. They were about halfway finished with him when they started injecting the woman.
At first everything went fine; both injections were completed and the scientists began monitoring the subject's vital signs.
Then an alarm began to sound as the male's vital signs suddenly became very erratic.
“Blood pressure's down!” one of the assistants shouted. “Heart beat is--” he never got to finish as the male started to have convulsions on the table. Two of the lab techs moved to hold him down.
The female looked over at him with concern, then suddenly she was screaming, rolling off her own table, the various monitoring wires being ripped free as she fell. Another lab tech moved over to her but before he could even begin to help her up, she grabbed his legs and yanked him down, and he shouted in panic.
Meanwhile the male had shoved one of the assistants away; he slammed into the glass separating him from the senior scientists. The glass was bullet-resistant; it shuddered but held.
“What is going on in there?!” one of the chief scientist shouted.
The male spat green fluid into the face of the remaining lab tech struggling with him. The man shouted and stumbled away blindly. The female was likewise spitting virulent green phlegm into the face of the tech she had brought down.
“Security protocol three,” one of the elder scientists said grimly, standing up. “Let's wrap this up.”
“Surely we should stay in containment--” the blond scientist began, but the other two opened the heavy door and dashed out. The blond man stared after them sadly, shaking his head, then resealed the door.
He turned and watched as the pair of them dashed into the lab. The two subjects were in the process of beating the remaining lab tech to death. The other two techs were slowly rising to their feet; they too had been infected by the experimental serum. As the elder scientists entered the lab, the two infected lab technicians turned on them. One of them was spat on, the other was torn apart.
Frantically the blond man began punching his keyboard to initiate a complete shut down of the lab; but that would take over five minutes. The infection would spread by then.
He hoped that they would catch the financier before he escaped, but he knew that slimy survivor would have made it out easily.
He sat down in his chair and blew out a sigh, then activated the exterior cameras and watched.
Sure enough, three of the infected escaped before the secret lab sealed itself. And not surprisingly, the financier was long gone before that.
The jig was up. He'd been running for a long time, and now he would have to fold.
He sat for a few minutes, listening to some of the maddened infected scurrying around outside, then he pulled out his cell phone.
*****************
--1: Information—Malthus was in a small, dirty workshop Waller and Steel had given him in the basement of Belle Reve, working on one of his robots, when his cell phone beeped.
He paused. So far as he knew, no one had this number. He used it for outbound calls only. It had been particularly effective as one of his tools for disrupting Batman's communications system, at least at first.
Irritably shoving aside that particular memory, he opened the flip phone and spoke into it. “Who is this and how did you get this number?”
He froze. “
Wilkerson?!? Where are you....
what
”
Malthus closed his eyes and listened to his erstwhile partner in crime yammer on for several minutes.
“Near San Diego? Yeah...okay...okay. Yes, I'll tell them. You really screwed up this time. Yes, I know I got caught first.” He listened for several minutes more as Wilkerson's voice yapped frantically in his ear, then finally snapped, “Okay, okay! Shut up! We'll come get you.” He closed the phone.
He buried his face in his hands and felt old. Very, very old.
*****************
--2: Briefing—The Squad was scattered about the briefing room, some of them still nursing injuries. None of them very happy. The whole clash with Batman in Gotham had been an utter disaster, especially for Killer Frost, who had remained after the mission was over and clashed with Batman still further. She was once again back here, having had her membership deal renewed, but now everyone was twice as suspicious and hostile towards her as they had been before, except of course for Electrocutioner.... and perhaps not surprisingly, Enchantress. What June thought, she did not say. She had gotten quieter and quieter, recently, speaking only when spoken to, or talking to Mitch.
“Some of you will remember when we defeated Malthus and his old friend Wilkerson,” Waller said briskly.
There were several knowing chuckles. Malthus looked like he wanted to tear his hair out.
“Yes, well, appears Wilkerson called his old buddy for help. He's trapped in a secret bio-weapons lab near San Diego, and apparently they've had an outbreak of one of their viruses.”
Abruptly the room went dead quiet.
“We don't know exactly what form the virus takes, except that it is extremely contagious, and is spread by fluid contact.”
“What's so dangerous about it if it has to be spread by fluids?” Manhunter wanted to know.
“Apparently the hosts aggressively spread it by spitting,” Malthus said in a low voice.
Everybody looked at him. He didn't seem his usual snarky confident self. Instead he seemed withdrawn and shaken, maybe even depressed. Waller had chewed him out, of course; but he had just sat there and taken it. It wasn't like him at all, and everybody knew it, Waller not least.
“Right,” Waller went on. “So we'll need protective gear on top of everything else. The incubation period is also very fast. Stay sharp, people, biohazard work is no joke.”
There was a distinct absence of the usual groaning and criticism. Everyone was taking this seriously. The Hurricane woman had been an all-consuming terror; this was much more....quietly insidious.
Even Enchantress and Erinyes thought so.
*****************
--3: Strategy—“We are going to have to divide up the team,” Manhunter said on their new (slower, cheaper) plane.
“What?” Malthus jerked his head up. “We can't risk losing containment!”
“The powers to maintain containment, we have,” Manhunter said. “The rest of us will be focused on finding the financier. You will, of course, be on the team handling containment, yourself.”
Malthus was only slightly mollified. “I appreciate that, but if the infection reaches San Diego--!”
“Yes, I know,” Manhunter said. “I haven't forgotten. We can do this, and we will.”
Malthus sat down and shut up.
Vixen's voice drifted into her lover's ear. “What if it does reach San Diego?”
Manhunter's mouth tightened into a thin line. “Then we will do whatever we can.”
*****************
--4: Containment—Enchantress, Frost, Vixen, Malthus, Knockout and Parademon headed towards the base.
Wilkerson had given Malthus directions. The base was hidden in the Anza-Borrego desert state park.
It was, of course, not enough to have prevented the infection from having spread beyond that area.
Only one was still near the base when they arrived. From its ragged garb, it had once been one of the researchers. It turned lurid green eyes on them and spat.
Fortunately they had brought protective gear as Waller had directed. The virus-infected phlegm spattered uselessly against the plastic shield of Vixen's helmet. She and the others were wrapped up in special action biohazard suits designed with supers in mind.
With a snap of her fingers, Frost froze the infected on the spot. No one wasted any time chastising her; they knew there would be more subjects to come that they could analyze. In her own way, she had helped maintain the quarantine.
The research base was over the next rise. From the outside it looked like more of a fortress than a base, which was appropriate. Unfortunately, it hadn't been enough to keep the infected in; and now it was keeping them out.
Malthus' robots would see to that problem, of course.
“Be ready,” Vixen said. “Some infected may try to break free when they open the doors.”
Nobody pointed out that Knockout or Parademon could have done the job of breaking in even easier; everyone understood that Malthus took this as a personal responsibility. And besides, if he hadn't, they probably would've forced the duty on him anyway, given the circumstances of his ex-partner's involvement.
Sure enough, three infected came out of the destroyed doors, burbling and spitting. Malthus was disquieted at how inhuman they seemed, with their bulging livid green eyes and the drool from their mouths. Even their movements were inhuman.
The robots tore through two of them easily, but the third showed unnatural strength and shoved the robot away. Knockout leaned in and punched him—gently, for her. That still meant, of course, he went flying back into the lab and lost most of his teeth.
They followed it inside. Nine more infected awaited them, slobbering and drooling. They moved so fast....
“How many personnel did they have in this place?!” Vixen shouted as she knocked one down.
“Wilkerson didn't say,” Malthus said grimly.
“You know we're going to take him down,” Vixen said as she shoulder-charged one infected.
Malthus directed three of his robots to kill another. “At this point, I think he would almost welcome it.”
*****************
--5: Infection—There were now fourteen infected who had passed out of range of the base before the Squad contingent arrived. Some had escaped the base itself, some had been infected as they went. The desert park was sparsely populated, of course. But the infected knew how to find new hosts relatively quickly.
They weren't aware of one another, exactly; except perhaps on a basic, instinctual level. They did not, properly speaking, work together; but neither did they ever interfere with each other. They stayed in relative proximity to each other, searching for victims.
All they knew was the nervous, burning energetic need to spread their infection to others. Though they did not think of it in those terms, of course. Properly speaking, they did not think at all.
Slowly they spread out. Thankfully, they had no memory of their human lives, nor any recognition of where the nearest town was. So they began gradually searching....for meat.
*****************
--6: Investigation—Manhunter, Electrocutioner, Cavalier, and the Resurrection Man attempted to hunt down the financier. Admittedly, there weren't many clues to go on. Not for the first time, Manhunter missed Catman's tracking abilities.
“Wilkerson doesn't know the financier's name. They kept their identities from each other; it seemed safer that way.”
Electrocutioner snorted.
“Yes, well. The financier was known to have set up an offshore account, of course. But apparently he traveled frequently to Oakland and back.” Manhunter said.
“That's all we have to go on?”
“That and the fact that Wilkerson knew him to be a former employee of LexCorp, before Luthor's fall and that whole Fero mess.”
“I thought the man didn't talk that much?”
“He didn't. But apparently it was the funds he acquired from previous LexCorp employment that enabled him to have startup capital for their lovely little lab in the first place.”
“How charming,” Cavalier said dryly.
Manhunter shot him a glare, reminding him of the embarrassment in Gotham. Cavalier shrugged. “I didn't say I wouldn't do my part.”
“Then do it quietly,” Manhunter said.
“Is that even possible for him?” Electrocutioner asked, and Resurrection Man laughed lightly. Mitch seemed more animated away from June. Something to think about. Later.
“Enough banter,” Manhunter said. “On to Oakland.”
*****************
--7: Analysis—The flight to Oakland was relatively short, which was a blessing.
“Okay fearless leader, so how do we find him?” Electrocutioner asked.
“First there was LexCorp. Then there was Fero. Now former LexCorp holdings have been bought out and renamed Ross Industries. I don't think our quarry would be welcome there anymore, they're liable to still have employment records.”
“What, so you want us to go in and ask, in costume?” Cavalier stared.
“Not in costume, no. Resurrection Man and I will dress down, as it were. You and Electrocutioner keep watch, he may be expecting to be followed.”
“You think he knew the experiment was going to fail?” Resurrection Man asked.
“I think he was prepared for the contingency.”
“Suddenly playing Sherlock, aren't you?” Cavalier asked.
“I'm doing what's necessary,” Manhunter said. Then he nodded to himself; this was right. For too long now, he had merely been reacting to events, and fighting on the battlefield. A manager and coordinator rather than a leader. It was time—past time—to truly step up and lead again.
*****************
--8: Research—They entered the office as private investigators attached to Checkmate, which was not so great a stretch of the truth as one might imagine. Apparently the new administration wanted to cut all ties to the old Luthor and Fero days, and was only too happy to provide access to them without examining their forged credentials too closely.
It didn't take too long for the appropriate record to be found.
“So his name is Nathan Creed,” Mitch mused. “Had some trouble with various businesses in Metropolis both before and during his time with LexCorp. Officially departed when Fero took over.”
“Probably wanted to advance his own agenda by that time,” Mark reasoned. He turned to the receptionist, an athletic redhead who had been very helpful so far. “We'll need access to his office, please.”
“You'll understand if I insist on coming with you,” she said, rising from her desk.
Before Mitch could say no, Mark said, “By all means. In fact, bring a security guard or two with you,”
Her eyes widened. “You expect trouble?”
“Let's just say I'm covering all the bases.”
“Remember, this guy was in good during the Luthor 'Administration',” Mitch pointed out, following Mark's lead. “No telling what nasty surprises he's left behind.”
She nodded. “What specifically do you suspect him of?”
The Squad members exchanged a look, then Mark said, “We think he's tied in with some illegal biotech research. It was after he left the company, or so we believe, but that doesn't rule out him having left something behind. If he hasn't snuck back himself.”
She didn't protest that their security system would have detected him; instead she called security on her bluetooth, murmured a few words, then said, “They'll meet us there. Let's go.”
The office was on the third floor. It was locked. Mark's first instinct was to bash it open, but he wisely held back and let security arrive and unlock it with a key. Even so, he was excited, nerves tingling, keyed up. He felt like a real vigilante again. This must be what it's like for Electrocutioner all the time, he mused, but the larger implications of that thought disquieted him, and he pushed them away.
The office was dark and clearly their target was not here; an empty room feels different than a room with a person in it, even a person in hiding. There was no such sensation here.
But there was, was darkness and a horrible stench...
*****************
--9: Epidemic—Three of the infected stumbled over a hill, and came within sight of San Diego.
Even from here, they could smell meat....
”