((Follows right behind the last posting in Cloned Warfare.))
He was leaning back in the leather arm chair that made up the generous seating area inside his expansive office. The long, lean legs of Mr. Crisp were stretched out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankles. His impressive six foot four frame was adorned in a fine tailored Brioni suit of the darkest gray, with a vibrant crystal blue dress shirt held together at the neck with a wine colored silk tie. His long arms extending to grasp the ends of the arms of the leather chair he was sitting in, salt and pepper locks on his head combed back to perfection without a hair out of place, was tilted slightly back, his lids closed.
It had been one of those days. He had spent the majority of it in meetings in front of the medical boards of three leading hospitals, pitching his science of regenerative cloning for genetic reconstruction for the sick and less fortunate. An endless day of delivering pre-scripted droll about his discoveries of the use of the stem cells in fat that could regrow muscle tissue, the viability of genetically engineered stem cells for patients with Alheizmers and bone marrow transplant patients. Endless pitching, endless questions, endless red tape. The stickiest part of his presentations were just how he was able to produce genetic matches for said patients. No more scouring through the short list of patients willing to donate tissue and organs and the like for only the few on longer waiting lists that were a match and needed them. He had discovered a way to give each patient in need the genetic match for whatever medical issue that could happen. No more waiting lists. That was always the question that finally got asked and that the answer to would always tend to sieze up and halt the conversation.
Cloning was the answer. He never understood why so many people would appear appalled at the idea. Yes, he was able to grow human flesh. Yes, he was able to reconstruct a perfect match of genetic material for anyone that needed it. Yes, he was able to take a few select stem cells and recreate that person in a petri dish. Perfectly synced in genetic code down to hair and eye color. A copy that could be used in any way a person could think of. Lose your arm in a wood chipper accident? An arm could be taken from the clone and attached. Get an eye gouged out in a bar room brawl? One would be on standby to replace it, functional and ready for implanting. Get burned in a house fire because of faulty wiring? There would be skin that could be taken to replace it. So few people wished to allow their body parts to be donated once they no longer had need of it and even fewer people who took enough care of their bodies when they were alive to be of any use to anyone after they passed. Endless medical personnel pleading to the family members of any patients that died in their hospital to allow them to save someone with the materials that could be harvested from the deceased only to have the sentimental connection of said corpse, refuse because they wanted them to look good in their coffin for the viewing.
There were so many objections once he explained the nitty gritty of how what he proposed was possible. Once the ball and been dropped and the silence fell, he would gear up. Ready for the objections with what he felt were sound arguments. The clones could be made with very little needed from the individual and that individual could have a complete duplicate made within days. No, the clone was not an exact copy with regards to thought, memories, reaction or feeling. While in order to sustain the viable organs and tissue and such, their would be brain activity but it's function was to merely be the battery used to keep the engine running until the parts were needed. The clone had no cognitive thoughts, no ability to form them with the minimal activity that was necessary to keep the body going. The clone would not dream, would not be able to talk or carry on a conversation or even walk around for that matter even though each of these parts would be fully funtioning if and when it was needed for the human counterpart. Human and yet not so.
He had been rejected by one of the medical boards and the other two had told him they would, "...get back to him." He already knew what that meant. He had been marketing the idea publicly to hospitals in the hopes of tugging at their want and need to help their patients in anyway they could. So far he had been unsuccessful. However, he had to keep the labs going and that was expensive. One has to have a supplemental source of income. Luckily he had such a source.
He had been a young man of twenty four when he had opened his first textile mill. Having come from a wealthy family, most of his inheritance had gone into this venture. Within two years, he had as many as fifteen. His business savvy was uncanny. He seemed to have it all, a thriving successful business, shortly after a young beautiful wife and even shorter after, a handsome little baby boy. Only a handful of years later, the majority of the worlds textile products were being outsourced and he had been forced to shut them all down, losing a lot of his monies when that had failed. Pooling his resources, he had begun to experiment with genetics and cloning, an idea in science that had always fascinated him. Never one to be reminded of his own mortality, he was surprisingly opposed to using his own DNA for his testing. That's where his son had been most helpful. Since the boy had been but 10 years old, he had been using various sources of DNA from his son, blood, hair, and skin cells. His wife had objected to the use of their son from the start, once she discovered what he was doing, threatening to take his son from him and report what he was doing. He had no clearance nor contract nor approval to do the experiments he was doing in the attempt to further his research and perfect it so needless to say, his first marriage made him a widower. The police had never been able to substantially prove the cause of her death but her inheritence left to him in her will helped him continue on his course.
As his son grew older, he began to rebel as most youth do and ran off to join the Navy SeALs. Magnus had to find another source to use so he turned to the lowly and forgotten dregs of the city. This new source gave his sadistic mind new ideas. No one would miss these banes on society so aside from using their DNA, he began to experiment with them. Manipulating their DNA in attempts to improve their minds, their strength, their speed but when you work with subpar material the end results are never what they should be.
It was after his son returned from his eight year career, metals adorning his uniform for his superior skills in combat, weaponry, and covert operations, that Magnus realized just what further uses his son could be. He had finally perfected his method of genetic regenerative cloning amongs other things and had managed to secure the legal backing and government sanction having marketed it to them as a way to help the sick and dying. Those signed hefty checks of the wealthy backers and the approval to go public had made Magnus legit, so to speak. It also gave him the funds needed to keep up the front as he continued his experiments.
He welcomed his son home with open arms and promised a fresh start, a bond worthy of a father and son. It was during those next few months that he became aware of just how skilled his son had become while he was away. The missions he had been on were always successful. He was appointed to lead the team of SeALS that were assigned the most difficult marks and targets. His success rate was the highest as was the return rate of all of the team members. What was even more impressive to him was that his son had developed a darker side. The things he had seen and done had made him cold and calculating. Both characteristics that are vital to someone trained to kill. He began to realize that his son had not only developed a tolerance to the assignments given to him to take life from those he was ordered to, the glint and joy in Jacob's eyes as he spoke about them proved he had actually enjoyed it. The bond between them began to grow and that was when "Sicariorum" was born. With his son by his side, they searched for more trained killers willing to better their circumstances and become a member of "Sicariorum".
The contracts they were able to get were huge payoffs and it was on one such mission that Jacob had taken on himself that he had met..her. Her name was Julianna Frostbite and apparently she had been given the same contract. She was one of the most impressive specimen of intelligence, stealth, and skill that Jacob had ever seen. She was deadly and he had to have her on the team. His father had been hesistant to allow it, given that he could detect something growing between them but she was a very impressive individual so she had been added to the small roster of trained killers.
His gut had been right, the relationship between Julianna and his son grew. Magnus knew it would only lead to disaster. He needed his son to stay focused and having that woman around was having Jacob doubt his path in life, wanting and planning a life with her away from the group, away from his father. They fought about it and a rift was started between the once very close pair. Magnus knew he had to do something. He had sent someone to deal with her. But there had been a hitch. The killer had not managed to actual kill the target. She was made into a vegetable, her body kept alive for over two years now by machines. He had hoped that this would have been as effectual as if the killer had succeeded however Jacob wouldn't give her up and move on. It was then that he came to his father, asking for him a favor. A favor he was convinced would give him his Julianna back. He wanted Magnus to create a copy of her.
Magnus tried to explain to him that it wouldn't be the same, that he should move on and forget her. The fought even more, the rift growing wider between them. Not wanting to lose his son nor give up the secret organization they had built together by losing the deadliest weapon on the team, having lost the second to a coma, he obliged. The copy he made of her was a mindless, comatose version, as were all the ones he had made previously save the ones he had experimented on which no one knew about save him and the small team of scientists that helped him. Nothing but a picture perfect copy with no free thought nor memory of who Jacob was. It was then that he saw the change in his son. The thought of never having his love back again was slowly driving him mad. He refused to pull the plug on the original Julianna and was holding constant vigil at her side. He was barely eating and would allow no one in with him as he kept watch over her, hoping for any signs of life.
It was then that Magnus told him that he hadn't been completely honest with him. While he could do nothing for the original, he could breathe life into the copy but it would be dangerous and compeletly experimental. Jacob only heard that there was a posibility to bring her back. Using questionable means and science, Magnus was able to boost the brain activity and the clone was awake and alive. The clone was then put into training in hopes that the stronger more advanced DNA from such an impressive doner would give Magnus back his trained weapon. After only two months the clone deteriorated and the body was useless. Jacob refused to give up and insisted they keep trying, Magnus relented, only this time, having such an advanced and skilled specimen in Julianna, he was able to manipulate the DNA as he had before with lesser specimens but the results were more successful. Each copy made was even stronger and faster than the previous versions. The bodies were lasting longer with each new clone but would eventually fail.
It wasn't until the tenth version that it was a success. This particular clones ability to learn and grow in training was off the charts. She adapted to every environment, her reflexes were insanely honed and she was definitely deadly. Magnus had his weapon back, a better, stronger, faster weapon...but Jacob didn't have his Julianna back. This clone didn't know him, didn't know anything outside of the training she had been put through and recieved. He was angry with his father, accusing him of only going through with this, not for him, his son...but for his precious "Sicariorum". Jacob decided to take matters into his own hands and found a way to extract the memories of his love and implanted them into the clone. When the clone was once again awakened...there was definitely a difference...
"Mr Crisp."
The nasaly female voice coming from the intercom on his desk broke the silence of the office and snapped him from his memories. He opened his eyes and peered over at the desk before bringing his gaze back to the windows in front of him, the scene having gone dark as the city lights were brightning the night sky. How long had he been sitting there? He pinched his thumb and pointer finger to the bridge of his nose and took a deep, thought-clearing breath.
"Yes Jackie?"
"Mr. Pander is on the phone for you sir. He says it's urgent?"
He was leaning back in the leather arm chair that made up the generous seating area inside his expansive office. The long, lean legs of Mr. Crisp were stretched out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankles. His impressive six foot four frame was adorned in a fine tailored Brioni suit of the darkest gray, with a vibrant crystal blue dress shirt held together at the neck with a wine colored silk tie. His long arms extending to grasp the ends of the arms of the leather chair he was sitting in, salt and pepper locks on his head combed back to perfection without a hair out of place, was tilted slightly back, his lids closed.
It had been one of those days. He had spent the majority of it in meetings in front of the medical boards of three leading hospitals, pitching his science of regenerative cloning for genetic reconstruction for the sick and less fortunate. An endless day of delivering pre-scripted droll about his discoveries of the use of the stem cells in fat that could regrow muscle tissue, the viability of genetically engineered stem cells for patients with Alheizmers and bone marrow transplant patients. Endless pitching, endless questions, endless red tape. The stickiest part of his presentations were just how he was able to produce genetic matches for said patients. No more scouring through the short list of patients willing to donate tissue and organs and the like for only the few on longer waiting lists that were a match and needed them. He had discovered a way to give each patient in need the genetic match for whatever medical issue that could happen. No more waiting lists. That was always the question that finally got asked and that the answer to would always tend to sieze up and halt the conversation.
Cloning was the answer. He never understood why so many people would appear appalled at the idea. Yes, he was able to grow human flesh. Yes, he was able to reconstruct a perfect match of genetic material for anyone that needed it. Yes, he was able to take a few select stem cells and recreate that person in a petri dish. Perfectly synced in genetic code down to hair and eye color. A copy that could be used in any way a person could think of. Lose your arm in a wood chipper accident? An arm could be taken from the clone and attached. Get an eye gouged out in a bar room brawl? One would be on standby to replace it, functional and ready for implanting. Get burned in a house fire because of faulty wiring? There would be skin that could be taken to replace it. So few people wished to allow their body parts to be donated once they no longer had need of it and even fewer people who took enough care of their bodies when they were alive to be of any use to anyone after they passed. Endless medical personnel pleading to the family members of any patients that died in their hospital to allow them to save someone with the materials that could be harvested from the deceased only to have the sentimental connection of said corpse, refuse because they wanted them to look good in their coffin for the viewing.
There were so many objections once he explained the nitty gritty of how what he proposed was possible. Once the ball and been dropped and the silence fell, he would gear up. Ready for the objections with what he felt were sound arguments. The clones could be made with very little needed from the individual and that individual could have a complete duplicate made within days. No, the clone was not an exact copy with regards to thought, memories, reaction or feeling. While in order to sustain the viable organs and tissue and such, their would be brain activity but it's function was to merely be the battery used to keep the engine running until the parts were needed. The clone had no cognitive thoughts, no ability to form them with the minimal activity that was necessary to keep the body going. The clone would not dream, would not be able to talk or carry on a conversation or even walk around for that matter even though each of these parts would be fully funtioning if and when it was needed for the human counterpart. Human and yet not so.
He had been rejected by one of the medical boards and the other two had told him they would, "...get back to him." He already knew what that meant. He had been marketing the idea publicly to hospitals in the hopes of tugging at their want and need to help their patients in anyway they could. So far he had been unsuccessful. However, he had to keep the labs going and that was expensive. One has to have a supplemental source of income. Luckily he had such a source.
He had been a young man of twenty four when he had opened his first textile mill. Having come from a wealthy family, most of his inheritance had gone into this venture. Within two years, he had as many as fifteen. His business savvy was uncanny. He seemed to have it all, a thriving successful business, shortly after a young beautiful wife and even shorter after, a handsome little baby boy. Only a handful of years later, the majority of the worlds textile products were being outsourced and he had been forced to shut them all down, losing a lot of his monies when that had failed. Pooling his resources, he had begun to experiment with genetics and cloning, an idea in science that had always fascinated him. Never one to be reminded of his own mortality, he was surprisingly opposed to using his own DNA for his testing. That's where his son had been most helpful. Since the boy had been but 10 years old, he had been using various sources of DNA from his son, blood, hair, and skin cells. His wife had objected to the use of their son from the start, once she discovered what he was doing, threatening to take his son from him and report what he was doing. He had no clearance nor contract nor approval to do the experiments he was doing in the attempt to further his research and perfect it so needless to say, his first marriage made him a widower. The police had never been able to substantially prove the cause of her death but her inheritence left to him in her will helped him continue on his course.
As his son grew older, he began to rebel as most youth do and ran off to join the Navy SeALs. Magnus had to find another source to use so he turned to the lowly and forgotten dregs of the city. This new source gave his sadistic mind new ideas. No one would miss these banes on society so aside from using their DNA, he began to experiment with them. Manipulating their DNA in attempts to improve their minds, their strength, their speed but when you work with subpar material the end results are never what they should be.
It was after his son returned from his eight year career, metals adorning his uniform for his superior skills in combat, weaponry, and covert operations, that Magnus realized just what further uses his son could be. He had finally perfected his method of genetic regenerative cloning amongs other things and had managed to secure the legal backing and government sanction having marketed it to them as a way to help the sick and dying. Those signed hefty checks of the wealthy backers and the approval to go public had made Magnus legit, so to speak. It also gave him the funds needed to keep up the front as he continued his experiments.
He welcomed his son home with open arms and promised a fresh start, a bond worthy of a father and son. It was during those next few months that he became aware of just how skilled his son had become while he was away. The missions he had been on were always successful. He was appointed to lead the team of SeALS that were assigned the most difficult marks and targets. His success rate was the highest as was the return rate of all of the team members. What was even more impressive to him was that his son had developed a darker side. The things he had seen and done had made him cold and calculating. Both characteristics that are vital to someone trained to kill. He began to realize that his son had not only developed a tolerance to the assignments given to him to take life from those he was ordered to, the glint and joy in Jacob's eyes as he spoke about them proved he had actually enjoyed it. The bond between them began to grow and that was when "Sicariorum" was born. With his son by his side, they searched for more trained killers willing to better their circumstances and become a member of "Sicariorum".
The contracts they were able to get were huge payoffs and it was on one such mission that Jacob had taken on himself that he had met..her. Her name was Julianna Frostbite and apparently she had been given the same contract. She was one of the most impressive specimen of intelligence, stealth, and skill that Jacob had ever seen. She was deadly and he had to have her on the team. His father had been hesistant to allow it, given that he could detect something growing between them but she was a very impressive individual so she had been added to the small roster of trained killers.
His gut had been right, the relationship between Julianna and his son grew. Magnus knew it would only lead to disaster. He needed his son to stay focused and having that woman around was having Jacob doubt his path in life, wanting and planning a life with her away from the group, away from his father. They fought about it and a rift was started between the once very close pair. Magnus knew he had to do something. He had sent someone to deal with her. But there had been a hitch. The killer had not managed to actual kill the target. She was made into a vegetable, her body kept alive for over two years now by machines. He had hoped that this would have been as effectual as if the killer had succeeded however Jacob wouldn't give her up and move on. It was then that he came to his father, asking for him a favor. A favor he was convinced would give him his Julianna back. He wanted Magnus to create a copy of her.
Magnus tried to explain to him that it wouldn't be the same, that he should move on and forget her. The fought even more, the rift growing wider between them. Not wanting to lose his son nor give up the secret organization they had built together by losing the deadliest weapon on the team, having lost the second to a coma, he obliged. The copy he made of her was a mindless, comatose version, as were all the ones he had made previously save the ones he had experimented on which no one knew about save him and the small team of scientists that helped him. Nothing but a picture perfect copy with no free thought nor memory of who Jacob was. It was then that he saw the change in his son. The thought of never having his love back again was slowly driving him mad. He refused to pull the plug on the original Julianna and was holding constant vigil at her side. He was barely eating and would allow no one in with him as he kept watch over her, hoping for any signs of life.
It was then that Magnus told him that he hadn't been completely honest with him. While he could do nothing for the original, he could breathe life into the copy but it would be dangerous and compeletly experimental. Jacob only heard that there was a posibility to bring her back. Using questionable means and science, Magnus was able to boost the brain activity and the clone was awake and alive. The clone was then put into training in hopes that the stronger more advanced DNA from such an impressive doner would give Magnus back his trained weapon. After only two months the clone deteriorated and the body was useless. Jacob refused to give up and insisted they keep trying, Magnus relented, only this time, having such an advanced and skilled specimen in Julianna, he was able to manipulate the DNA as he had before with lesser specimens but the results were more successful. Each copy made was even stronger and faster than the previous versions. The bodies were lasting longer with each new clone but would eventually fail.
It wasn't until the tenth version that it was a success. This particular clones ability to learn and grow in training was off the charts. She adapted to every environment, her reflexes were insanely honed and she was definitely deadly. Magnus had his weapon back, a better, stronger, faster weapon...but Jacob didn't have his Julianna back. This clone didn't know him, didn't know anything outside of the training she had been put through and recieved. He was angry with his father, accusing him of only going through with this, not for him, his son...but for his precious "Sicariorum". Jacob decided to take matters into his own hands and found a way to extract the memories of his love and implanted them into the clone. When the clone was once again awakened...there was definitely a difference...
"Mr Crisp."
The nasaly female voice coming from the intercom on his desk broke the silence of the office and snapped him from his memories. He opened his eyes and peered over at the desk before bringing his gaze back to the windows in front of him, the scene having gone dark as the city lights were brightning the night sky. How long had he been sitting there? He pinched his thumb and pointer finger to the bridge of his nose and took a deep, thought-clearing breath.
"Yes Jackie?"
"Mr. Pander is on the phone for you sir. He says it's urgent?"