Blood. He tasted blood in his mouth. No chemical substance he had ever worked with could quite match that tinge of iron he tasted on his mouth.
Where was he? His whole body hurt, as if he had overdosed himself with muscle relaxant and his body was now fighting back with one of the few mechanisms it had. But no, that wasn’t right. He wouldn’t have bit his tongue if that was the case.
Letting out a slow groan, he managed to pull his head around from its side position to look straight forward. Right at the ruins of his lab.
With a jolt, and a low groan at the full-body tinge of pain that shot through him as a result, he remembered. Pharoah 90, which he had made a devil’s deal with to save his daughter. Kaolinite, who had come to him, also infected by Pharoah 90, working with him on his experiments, overseeing much of the administrative work of Mugen Academy. Even himself, made a host in his deal with the entity known as Pharoah 90, had succumbed. He laughed when Mistress 9 finally exerted dominance over his daughter’s body. He had laughed!
His daughter? Where was she? Her mere existence had given him the strength to live on in this shell since his wife’s death in that catastrophic explosion. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but with all the research he had done, he may as well have been. And he could self-diagnose himself. His prognosis was grim. He was pretty sure he was bleeding out, if the cold feeling creeping up his torso was any indication. Both femurs must be broken, if the angle of his legs was any indication, never a good sign. He hadn’t long to live, and the rejection of that evil, loathsome part of himself that had exerted itself for several minutes had been further tiring.
But that didn’t matter. He could inhabit this making of flesh and blood and bone for several minutes longer, if he could see his daughter again.
Hotaru. Where was she?
His thoughts were hyper-fast. Even as he approached death’s door, his body hadn’t yet given up the fight. Epinephrine was heightening his senses, slowly dulling the pain, easing him into the dark abyss. He could see the racks of chemicals that still lay undisturbed on the far wall. Odd. He had always needed glasses to see that far. Had his few minutes in that foul form, when he called himself Germatroid, done something to him?
No. No matter. He wasn’t going anywhere. Any theories he could come up with right now would never find themselves etched in paper, or typed up on a computer.
Instead, he thought. He ruminated on how it had come to this.
He already knew how it had started. It had started with his mother.
---
Most of the rest of this story will be presented in a series of flashbacks, which should be a given if you've read this first scene.
Some liberties may be taken with canon but not much. Of course, as Seiya and others may already notice, there is already one deviation from canon in here.
Where was he? His whole body hurt, as if he had overdosed himself with muscle relaxant and his body was now fighting back with one of the few mechanisms it had. But no, that wasn’t right. He wouldn’t have bit his tongue if that was the case.
Letting out a slow groan, he managed to pull his head around from its side position to look straight forward. Right at the ruins of his lab.
With a jolt, and a low groan at the full-body tinge of pain that shot through him as a result, he remembered. Pharoah 90, which he had made a devil’s deal with to save his daughter. Kaolinite, who had come to him, also infected by Pharoah 90, working with him on his experiments, overseeing much of the administrative work of Mugen Academy. Even himself, made a host in his deal with the entity known as Pharoah 90, had succumbed. He laughed when Mistress 9 finally exerted dominance over his daughter’s body. He had laughed!
His daughter? Where was she? Her mere existence had given him the strength to live on in this shell since his wife’s death in that catastrophic explosion. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but with all the research he had done, he may as well have been. And he could self-diagnose himself. His prognosis was grim. He was pretty sure he was bleeding out, if the cold feeling creeping up his torso was any indication. Both femurs must be broken, if the angle of his legs was any indication, never a good sign. He hadn’t long to live, and the rejection of that evil, loathsome part of himself that had exerted itself for several minutes had been further tiring.
But that didn’t matter. He could inhabit this making of flesh and blood and bone for several minutes longer, if he could see his daughter again.
Hotaru. Where was she?
His thoughts were hyper-fast. Even as he approached death’s door, his body hadn’t yet given up the fight. Epinephrine was heightening his senses, slowly dulling the pain, easing him into the dark abyss. He could see the racks of chemicals that still lay undisturbed on the far wall. Odd. He had always needed glasses to see that far. Had his few minutes in that foul form, when he called himself Germatroid, done something to him?
No. No matter. He wasn’t going anywhere. Any theories he could come up with right now would never find themselves etched in paper, or typed up on a computer.
Instead, he thought. He ruminated on how it had come to this.
He already knew how it had started. It had started with his mother.
---
Most of the rest of this story will be presented in a series of flashbacks, which should be a given if you've read this first scene.
Some liberties may be taken with canon but not much. Of course, as Seiya and others may already notice, there is already one deviation from canon in here.