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</div></div><div style="margin-left: 20px"><div style="margin-left: 20px"><div style="margin-left: 20px"><div style="text-align: justify">Suspicion naturally pervaded each enlisted man and woman in the military. It was embedded in every vein and bone of each soldier as a survival instinct for war. For plenty, suspicion saved their lives more than once on- and off-duty. But for some, like Mikhail Nazarov in this instance, it merely caused them to be warier of people more than usual.<br/>
<br/>
Outwardly, though, he was the portrait of disinterest inside the General’s tent. Not many could sprawl insolently on a seat that was stylized after the antiquated camping chairs back in ‘10s before Sugawara and get away with it but Mikhail did. He concealed his uncertainty about the situation he was in with the opposite of what he felt. After all, Commander Drennen was always the one who assembled them, not the General himself, exactly to avoid awkward circumstances like this. His ankle was propped atop his other knee and his attention was transfixed on the holomagazine he plucked from the desk nearby, his demeanor blasé, almost disrespectful, before Sugawara. Though to be fair, Mikhail lost all respect for him after the shitstorm that was Bloodmoon. As much as he wished to introduce his fist with Sugawara’s beady eyes, he settled on acts of passive aggressiveness, like being an all-purpose pain in the ass, that would get under the General’s skin but screen him from assault charges. Mikhail doubted his father could save him from the latter.<br/>
<br/>
Before Mikhail could fill the oppressive silence that weighed between them with a comment about Sugawara’s receding hairline, the Commander arrived.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#d81c25">“Commander Drennen.”</span> Mikhail stood swiftly, saluting the older man in a manner of respect he hadn’t exhibited towards Sugawara earlier. His amber gaze didn’t fail to note his commander’s state of undress, a facet he sorely envied compared to the full gear he wore sans his helmet, his black strands slicked to one side of his head. It had been awhile since he—and the entire team, in fact—was with the commander after Bloodmoon, and Mikhail couldn’t help the smirk that manifested on his lips upon seeing him once again. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#d81c25">“Woke up on the wrong side of the cot?”</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">“Commander Drennen. Officer Nazarov.”</span> General Sugawara interjected by way of greeting, extinguishing any chance of warmth that might brew between his subordinates. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">“I’d offer you both a seat but I want both of your asses out of here as soon as I’m done discussing this operation.”</span><br/>
<br/>
The furrowing of Mikhail’s brows were nigh imperceptible but it occurred all the same when Sugawara spoke. He stood across the General from the round table, pondering the whereabouts of the rest of the Commander’s ground team and why they weren’t a part of this meeting. His musings were interrupted once Sugawara activated the surface of the desk, ensconcing the tent in the cyanous glow of the holo. The DOD insignia flashed and faded before four words appeared in thin, minimalist font.<br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family:Assistant"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">SOL-SOON ADVANCED GENETICS</span></span>​</div><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">“Nothing worse than an unaffiliated faction in a war than an unaffiliated faction <i>with power </i>in a war.”</span> Sugawara sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose to probably alleviate the weight of his sins.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"> “Sol-Soon Advanced Genetics or ‘SSAG’… a pioneer in genetic engineering and biotechnology in humans, and now the only company who seems to have reached that marginal 5% success rate in the field. As far as I knew, they haven’t exactly produced any viable results before the Fourth War began. It’s all mainly just talks. But that was before…”</span><br/>
<br/>
With a wave of Sugawara’s hand on the holoscreen, the font was replaced by a smattering of photos and videos. One of which was a video clip that panned along between rows of nude humans in varying complexions and genders—or what seemed like it—akin to livestock. Beautiful and flawless livestock. Altogether, they looked lifelike yet lifeless simultaneously. The crease between Mikhail’s brows deepened when realization dawned on him, his lips pursing. Scrutinizing these <i>things</i> further, he discerned the subtle stripes, which reminded him of circuitry, that marred their skin. It gleamed with a muted prismatic sheen whenever light shone on it similar to the back of a salvaged CD from the 10’s a hobbyist tried to sell him.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">“As you can see, Sol-Soon was beyond successful. They have manufactured ten of these genetically-engineered supersoldiers, and they call it the “Avoxxis.” A biological weapon disguised as a human.”</span> Sugawara enlarged an anatomy map of a male and a female Avoxxis, their images rotating clockwise to showcase the barcode tattooed on the base of their neck and the lack of imperfections—and souls, possibly.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff"> “Drennen, you were extracted by a prototype during Bloodmoon if you recall. Now, Sol-Soon refused to impart the exact extent of their capabilities over the phone so I sent Officers Basche and Nazarov—your sister—to them at dawn if you’re wondering why they’re not present. They’ve been briefed and sent ahead. Both of you will follow shortly after this meeting. Sol-Soon has managed to keep its project in the dark until well into the War. When word had got out about these weapons, Sol-Soon caught the attention of the superpowers like moths to a flame. Can you imagine if the Fourth World War became genetically engineered bioweapon warfare? We’d be on the highway to hell.”</span> Sugawara exhaled his exasperation. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">“Fortunately, the company avoided siding with anyone and remained neutral all throughout. So far, Avoxxis prototypes were only dispatched for extraction purposes. Sol-Soon refused to have its experiments used by humans against one another even if it’s for reconnaissance missions. Instead, their efforts focus solely on interplanetary defenses against extraterrestrial invaders.” </span><br/>
<br/>
Apparently, while the world was warring in 2094, Sol-Soon was already in mid-2100.<br/>
<br/>
Sugawara once again dismissed the images before him to reveal a headshot and an anatomy map of a female Avoxxis. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">“This is your next assignment: Operation AXS-062.” </span>A portrait of a woman with the lightest blonde hair and the iciest blue eyes stared at the men within the tent. While her features radiated with purity, there was also a detached coldness about her that Mikhail found inhuman. The young officer found it difficult that she was a bioweapon. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">“It’s the first advanced and developed Avoxxis with more models of its kind in progress. Again, Sol-Soon wasn’t keen on disclosing more about it over the line but the scientists and the rest of your team are already there if you have more questions about it. In any case, Sol-Soon enlisted the DOD’s assistance to oversee the enhancement of the bioweapon with regards to hands-on military tactical and strategic training. They claim that the reasoning behind this is that the simulations they uploaded to the Avoxxis are still incomparable to real-world exposure. Experiential learning and all that shit. This is where your team comes in, Drennen. AXS-062 will be assigned to your team for as long Sol-Soon wants to run this experiment and deems the weapon fit for combat or for deactivation. Delegation of tasks and assignments to your officers depends on you. I believe Officers Basche and the Nazarovs are equipped to handle this with their skill sets and specializations. It’s a walk in the park, isn’t it?” </span><br/>
<br/>
In the dull glow of the holoscreen, Mikhail concluded one thing from this briefing as he stared at the stony gaze of AXS-062 before him: they were on glorified babysitting duty.<br/>
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</div></div><div style="margin-left: 20px"><div style="margin-left: 20px"><div style="margin-left: 20px"><div style="text-align: justify">If an egg was drained of its yolk and the inside of its shell was used as a villainous lair, Sol-Soon Advanced Genetics was it. The architecture of the facility was a cross between contemporary and minimalism styles designed by someone who either had little understanding of the concept of waves and curves or absolutely hated it. Each aspect of the building was composed of blunt angles and varying lines amid the stark whiteness and glass structures of it all.<br/>
<br/>
Everything about it gave Langdon Basche the creeps.<br/>
<br/>
For a company subtitled with <i>Natura nihil frustra facit’</i>*, their image mainly projected sterility and mad science. Housekeeping robotics here must be as advanced as his military equipment if they managed to keep this place immaculate. Though he had to give it to them, in spite of the discomfort he felt, the place looked impressive as it was intimidating, and the azure accents he noticed here and there was a nice touch. Basche recalled General Sugawara’s advice to behave themselves once they were on location; and so far, none of them broke anything yet given the fact that Sol-Soon’s choice of furniture seemed to fall into the spectrum of breakable at the slightest touch.<br/>
<br/>
Inside the laboratory’s testing zone, he and Ylona stuck out like a sore thumb garbed as they were in their standard issue uniform, its shades of black and gray making them appear like specks of dirt to be cleaned in Sol-Soon. They lounged on the cushy seats by a desk behind a glass divider that bisected the room from a spacious area meant for displaying physical feats. The scientist who accommodated their arrival and briefed them with a concise history of their company, their purpose, and their creations had just left the room to fetch the model they were dispatched for.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f47319">“When do you think Commander and Mickey will arrive?”</span> Ylona yawned from the seat adjacent to him though her eyes were transfixed on the Sol-Soon holotablet on her lap. Her surroundings didn’t seem to bother her unlike it did with Basche but that always seemed to be the case with the older Nazarov. Basche could stick her into one of the most hostile planets in the Milky Way and she would still be as conversational as ever. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f47319">“I wanna see our Avoxxis already. I’ve tons of plans for her. It’s about damn time there’s another girl in the team after…”</span><br/>
<br/>
<i>…after McDermott died.</i> Basche knew what Ylona left unspoken. The death of their First Lieutenant struck the team hard, and every one of them coped differently at her passing. He drowned his grief in tech—or the building of it—while isolating himself in R&amp;D for the first few weeks before he was conscripted to other squads for special missions. This would be their first time back working together with Commander Drennen. And he was relieved. That relief was also reflected on Ylona when he saw her in the General’s tent earlier.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#775288">“If your plans involve braiding her hair and gossiping in the middle of the night, you’re delusional.”</span> Basche shook his head, dry amusement lacing his tone, his lazuline irises shifting from his teammate to the Sol-Soon holo-tablet in his grasp. AXS-062’s profile was visible on the tablet’s screen, displaying its details like a machine. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#775288">“Have you even seen AXS-062’s specs? It’s supposed to be apathetic and analgesic; yanno, to compensate for our flaws as an emotional and sensitive animal in modern warfare. It’s more machine than human, Ylona. I doubt you’ll get her to be your ‘girlfriend’ anytime soon.”</span> As soon as his remarks tumbled out of his lips, Basche feared he might have been too frank with Ylona, his hand raking through his dark brown mop of locks. It was a trait that often spurned people away, and one he sought to curb. He cleared his throat before backtracking. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#775288">“<i>But</i>, y’know, I’m also looking forward to the data Sol-Soon uploaded into it. It’s supposed to be quite raw so it’d be up to us on how to make use of it. Might learn something from it in the long run.”</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f47319">“Okay, first of all, <i>it’s</i> a <i>she</i>, Basche.”</span> Ylona corrected as she rose to stand before him with a disgruntled expression on her face, the holotablet, which showed AXS-062’s headshot, shoved into his face. Classic Ylona maneuver for intimidation. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f47319">“Listen, you may have bought into their whole ‘bioweapon’ pitch but this right here,”</span> a manicured finger tapped into the screen, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f47319">“is as human as any of us. Were you listening to the same thing I heard from the ol’ lady? They were still—”</span><br/>
<br/>
To Basche’s luck, Ylona’s tirade was interrupted when the door to the room on the other side of the glass slid open to herald Dr. Won’s return. Unlike before, the scientist wasn’t alone. Trailing after her was a pale, tall, and sveltely woman clothed in a body suit, which seemed like a second skin that clung to its curvatures, in Sol-Soon Advanced Genetics’s colors of white and blue. How it looked in person was incomparable to the image in Ylona’s holotablet. It—<i>she</i>—did look as human as he was.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#775288">“AXS-062.”</span> Basche breathed as he too stood, albeit rooted in place, but Ylona had already been defused and forgotten him.<br/>
<br/>
While Basche preferred a more cautious approach, Ylona traipsed towards the bioweapon audaciously, inundating both the scientist and the supersoldier with inquiries. The older Nazarov circled the experiment like a creator meticulously inspecting its invention, poking and prodding at her form. Eventually, the scene transpired into a poorly funded slapstick comedy show in late night 3V where Ylona contorted her body, her gymnastics training emerging, and coaxed AXS-062 to follow suit.<br/>
<br/>
Basche took comfort in the fact that the Commander or the General weren’t present to witness this.<br/>
<br/>
<hr class="bbc-hr"/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#404040">*T/L: Nature does nothing in vain.</span>​</div></div></div></div>