Justin Kemppainen - The Legend of Ivan

“What have you done to me?” Ivan growled, stepping towards the surgeon.

Ymarin held out his hands and shook his head. His mouth worked up and down, but the surgeon’s terrified mind found no words.

“What have you done to me? ” Ivan repeated, looming over Ymarin.

Trembling, the surgeon’s voice cut loose in a rapid babble. “Please, I didn’t, there was nothing- I couldn’t, I don’t know what the problem, certainly wasn’t my fault—”

A massive hand thrust forward and closed around the surgeon’s throat, cutting off the frightened stream of nonsense. Ymarin’s eyes bulged, veins throbbing on his forehead as Ivan effortlessly pulled him to eye level. “It hurts,” he hissed.

“Not… fault…” Ymarin gurgled, face purple and pulling weakly at the hand which strangled him.

During this, Calloway cowered, huddled beneath the workbench and too terrified to assist his colleague. The colonel was already unconscious or dead- the doctor couldn’t tell -bleeding on the ground with the reactor device embedded in his chest. The energy pistol lay at his side. Trembling, the doctor crawled forward, grasping the weapon.

A shadow loomed over him.

Calloway let out a scream as he was seized by the collar and dragged up off the ground. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease!” he babbled. “I didn’t do it; it wasn’t me!”

Ivan slammed him face first onto the center table. Calloway’s forehead rebounded off the hard metal, sending a burst of stars into his vision. Consciousness clung by a thread as Ivan turned him over, grasping his lab coat with both hands. Warm blood rushed out of the doctor’s forehead.

“What am I?!” Ivan screamed.

The doctor’s awareness swam far beneath reality. There came the muddled blaring of computerized warnings and some very loud shouting nearby, flashing red lights, and blood spilling down his face. Calloway held a vague awareness of the bone-rattling shaking of his body as Ivan demanded answers to questions.

Calloway’s vision had fallen to a complete gray, and it took several moments for a random thought to tell him Ivan had released him. Half-conscious, Calloway rolled over and fell to the ground. Nausea roiled up from within, and he braced himself on all fours while overcome with hideous retching.

Reality flashed in occasional pulses, like a time-lapsed recording. Banging and screeching metal resounded as he heard Ivan tear through the walls. Flashes of yellow came along with screaming as soldiers failed to stop him. Calloway noted vague emotions of horror as the twisted body of the former surgeon lay upon the ground, eyes wide and sightless. Calloway stumbled outside the gaping hole in the lab wall to see more broken, unconscious, and dead bodies. Trevors lay sprawled near the break room, blood dribbling down a head injury.

The elevator doors yawned open, but only sparking cables appeared where a comfortable car should have been. Calloway tripped and sprawled to the ground. Coughing, he rolled over. Sweat and blood stung his eyes, nausea crawled over him. Incessant pounding in his skull filled his every sensation, and the doctor wondered what possibly could have gone wrong.

“And so?” I asked as the madman standing next to me ceased speaking, staring at one of the glowing green diagnostic lights on the wall.

The man blinked, breaking out of his deep thought. “Erm, yeah. Uh, Calloway was dragged outta there by soldiers and medical people sometime later. They patched him up and questioned him to no end.” He tugged at his scraggly beard. “He was one of the folks shipped out to deep space exploration detail: not a soul to talk to for hundreds, thousands of light years.”

Frowning, I responded, “Were they able to find out what happened?”

“There were a lot of guesses, but they figured that Dr. Ymarin had screwed something up when putting the implants in the brain tissue.” The man shrugged. “Something to do with the pain receptors. It drove Ivan crazy when they woke him up. His brain believed that every nerve in his nonexistent body was bursting with agony.” He chuckled. “It’s kinda funny. Without the boosted architecture in his brain, he probably would have shut down and died from the shock. ‘Course, if Ymarin hadn’t messed it up, there wouldn’t have been that pain response in the first place. Ironic, huh?”

“Not really. What of the others?”

He tossed up a hand. “Ymarin and Pierce were both dead, as were most of the soldiers. The ones who survived couldn’t explain much besides the meat grinder of Ivan tearing through them.”

“And you?” I asked. “What business and fascination drew you to this great conspiracy?” A small amount of mockery lay in my tone.

The man threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, my my, he hasn’t figured it out. Isn’t it obvious?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Dr. Trevors, of course, and I saw the whole damn thing from conception to cover-up.” He puffed out his chest, posturing an air of importance. “I knew those itty-bitty pea shooters they had wouldn’t do a blessed thing to Ivan. I saw in the testing what he could do. I knew they wouldn’t stop him, and I wasn’t even going to try. Even so, he gave me a few lumps too, just for being there. I was lucky he didn’t kill me.”

Skeptical, I said, “Yet you weren’t shipped out along with Calloway.”

He grinned, again revealing the hideous, rotten teeth. “I didn’t let them find me. I’ve been hiding, waiting, trying to dig up the proof I need to blow this whole thing wide open.”

“Indeed,” I replied, turning towards the ladder. “Well. I appreciate your time, Dr. Trevors,” I said with hints of sarcasm.

The grin widened, and I could barely keep from grimacing at the sight. “Oh, my pleasure. You just make sure the right people hear about this, okay?” The smile faded. “It’s important that people know the truth about Ivan. Keritas has to be held accountable for all the things he’s done since they let him escape.”

Gripping the ladder, I said, “Thanks again,” and started to climb.

I glanced back down, remembering a small detail, “One last thing,” he raised an eyebrow, “you mentioned that the reactor was code-named OLGA but never elaborated.”

“Didn’t I?” He scratched his nose as I shook my head. “Oh. Well, it wasn’t really important. It was something like Onboard Logistics Generator Array, or something like that. I don’t really remember.”

I nodded. “Very well, thank you again.”

As I lifted the hatchway that lead into the alley, I saw him plugging a tap into the data lines, keying in his neural link.

He looked up at me. “You gotta tell the people, man. The Garden’s gotta be avenged.” His eyes went blank, and he lost himself in the stream of information. I slipped through the hatch.

After squeezing through the tight gap between buildings, I walked back to the port and settled into my vessel Minerva. I gave a moment’s consideration to my next destination, and I was on my way shortly after.

Assignment: Seeking information regarding the truth and whereabouts of Ivan.

Location: Ethra

Report: Located individual claiming Ivan as a fabricated offensive prototype created by Keritas Interests.

Probability : 17%

Summary:

Direct inquiry with Keritas suggested some information archived about Ivan [Afanasi Sergeyevich Lukyanov]. Suggestions about conspiracy from the contact [Dr. Trevors?] most likely fabricated via hallucination/paranoia/brain damage. Ivan’s rumored physical prowess suggests something more simple: he utilized Keritas services for an augmentation [strength, speed, sensory] package. Unit’s inquiry with company most probably rejected due to confidentiality agreement with Keritas clients. Dangerous incident or cover up doubtful.