Elfen Lied Fan Fiction ❯ Angel of Massacre ❯ The Best Laid Plans ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: I don’t own Elfen Lied nor am I making any money off of this. And isn’t that a shame.

Summary: Elfen Lied has ended with Lucy’s death. But the story lives on so long as the Diclonius Virus spreads. This is the story of Michael Mordare, the first Diclonius born in America. And more importantly, this is the story of the first male Diclonius born outside of captivity. This is the story of Michael’s decent into madness, and the beginning of Samael.

Warnings: This is rated T for bad language, intense dark themes, and gruesome murders.

Author’s Notes: You may notice that I’ll offhandedly mention the events of Elfen Lied once or twice. Remember that this tome occurs after the manga ends so whatever happened then is history today. There won’t be any cross-over with the established series so you don’t have to worry your little heads off. Let Michael take ‘em off for you.

Tee hee.

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Angel of Massacre

Chapter eight: The Best Laid Plans

Chaz Brown was the large thug that had accompanied the late Raymond Thorn during the beginning stages of Mission SIEGE. Just before he was going to give out Noah Brimstrome’s name, he was rescued. Unfortunately, he lost both hands in his encounter with Subject D-1. He was transported via an armored car to the drop zone. While en route he was given advanced medical treatment and his life was spared. Now he is waiting in the facility for mechanical prosthetics to replace his lost hands.

Technology for replacing lost body parts is in its early stages. It is highly unwieldy and clumsy at this point. Not to mention extremely expensive. With this technology many body parts can be replaced with robotic counterparts. The cyborg parts are wired to the body’s nervous system and monitors for electrical signals that the brain is trying to send to the missing organ. The biggest disadvantage of this technology is that the cyborg parts often break down from overuse. There are a few cases of successfully fusing humans who are invalids with robotic parts. One of them happened in Japan and involves replacing a man’s eyes and right arm.

Chaz was sitting silently in the infirmary. His broad back was slumped in depression. He couldn’t stop staring at the bandaged stubs where his flesh and bone hands used to be. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in frustration. But then he realized that he couldn’t clench his fists, they simply were not there. This drove him into deeper depression and he slowly spiraled down into darkness.

Suddenly the infirmary door slid open. The door itself disappeared into the wall and revealed a tall, brutish man with a foul snarl. The man was wearing a combat uniform. His dark brown hair was cut to military length. His brown eyes had heavy bags the color of a bruise. He didn’t look like he had gotten any sleep since the previous night.

As soon as his eyes landed on Chaz, the man stopped and looked like he was trying to suppress a scowl. Brown lifted his head warily and met the man’s stare.

The man spoke “You’re Chaz Brown, am I right?”

Chaz mumbled “Yeah, I am.”

“My name is Cole Hunter, I am- was the leader of the anti-diclonius squad the previous night. That is before that motha fucka killed every last soldier under me!” For a moment Cole’s face flushed an angry red color. Then he recomposed himself and spoke “I need you to come with me.”

Cole Hunter turned on his heel and began to walk the same way he had come in. Chaz stood up quickly and followed right behind the former squad leader. As he walked he tucked the bandaged stumps under his armpits. He felt irrational shame for his injuries. It was an odd sight, watching a very large man follow a shorter man meekly. Chaz Brown stood a full head taller than Cole Hunter. After a moment of walking Cole began to talk again.

“I was the only survivor last night, excluding you of course. Me an’ my squad were in a huge-ass forest for hours and hours searching for that slimy bastard. In the dead of night he got the jump on us and killed all of the men I have been working with for years. I hate that fucking bastard so much. I knew each and every one of those men personally. And now they’re gone…”

Again Cole was overwhelmed with anger. He stopped walking and lifted his right hand. To Chaz Brown’s horror, he saw that Cole’s right hand appeared to be a mish-mash of metal plates and sutures. Flesh had been peeled away and was now held together with metal. There even appeared to be cold metal beneath the skin, bonded directly to bone. Cole saw Chaz staring and chuckled grimly. “I myself didn’t get away without a scratch.”

And then they began to walk again in silence. Chaz followed Cole through many hallways and past many rooms. He had the vague sense of descending and realized that he was being led further and further down into the facility. He quickened his pace and walked right behind Cole.

“Hey, are we almost there? I don’t think this is the way to the hand-replacement room or whatever it is you’re taking me.”

Cole glanced back and gave Chaz a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry; I know exactly where you’re going.” Then he kept on walking. Chaz felt a little better but there was still gnawing concern in his stomach. “Surely this must be the way,” thought Chaz, “this is experimental stuff so they have to keep it locked away!”

He was so deep in self-assurance that he nearly collided with Cole. He had stopped in front of a huge metal door so large that an Abraham tank could have driven on through with room to spare. Before Cole was an electronic access panel with a ruby-colored eye. Cole bent down and held his right eye before the mechanical eye. At the same time he lifted his left hand and placed it palms flat against a hand-scanning machine. Two seconds later the sounds of heavy metal grinding and clunking filled the large hallway.

The gigantic metal door began to open horizontally. Immediately after the first door was another identical door that slid open as well. Chaz noted that the metal doors didn’t fully retract into the walls. They must have been just too big, Chaz thought absentmindedly. Beyond the twin doors lay long stretch of darkness. It was impossible to tell just how large this room was, but to Chaz it appeared as though it were stretching forever. He felt oddly claustrophobic even though it was a wide open space. Cole indicated towards the room and Chaz shuffled his feet forward.

Suddenly Cole spoke, “There are two things I hate in this world. One is that fucking diclonius that killed all my squad-mates. But there is something I hate more.” Chaz turned to face Cole, but only saw the sudden blur of metal. Cole’s right fist swung backwards and impacted Chaz’s face hard enough to break his teeth and nose. Blood spurted out of both as Chaz reeled backwards. With a guttural cry the enormous man fell onto the floor. He seemed to struggle to lift himself up but without his hands he just couldn’t do it. Cole wasn’t going to let him do it anyways. The former squad leader lifted his heavy combat boot and brought it down on Chaz’s head. The sound of his skull cracking against the floor echoed in the darkness. Chaz was still conscious, but he couldn’t move.

“I hate traitors more than anything else in the whole goddamn world!” snarled Cole Hunter.

With his left hand he upholstered a 50 caliber pistol. He held the pistol in front of Chaz’s face and continued his tirade. “Its goddamn traitors like you that fuck everything up! You were about to give up our boss’s name just to save your own worthless life. You people make me sick to my fucking stomach; I want to puke all over your disgusting face!”

Chaz tried to squirm away but Cole’s combat boot pinned him face down. “Grovel on the floor like a pathetic crippled mongrel. That’s all you are, a mongrel without any value whatsoever!” Cole spat furiously. Chaz tried to speak but the words were barely coherent. “He may have a gotten a concussion,” thought Cole, “and it just so happens I have an instant cure for concussions!”

“It-it wasn’t ma fault you-your guys did-died.” groaned Chaz. Cole kneeled down and lifted Chaz’s face off the ground by his hair. Blood flowed freely from his face and puddle onto the floor. His eyes rolled drunkenly

“You and I don’t know that. Nothing changes the fact that you are a fucking gutless traitor.” hissed Cole vehemently “There isn’t any way outta this, you fucked up and now you’re dead.” He let go of Chaz’s hair and let him fall face down on his own blood. He wasn’t even going to let Chaz have the dignity of dying while looking upon the face of his executioner. Cole stood up and switched his pistol to his right hand. He held it in one hand then pointed it toward the back of Chaz’s head. Chaz began to weep miserably, making the blood bubble around his head. Cole squeezed the trigger and a deafening bang echoed in the darkness. As the thunderous echoes drifted away, the cavernous room fell into equally thunderous silence. Cole stared at the motionless body for a moment longer before fishing out an audio transmitter from his pocket. Cell phones didn’t work this far beneath the surface.

Grinning, Cole activated the shortwave transmitter. “Noah, its Cole Hunt. I’ve done the deed, the rat ain’t squeaking no more.”

A couple seconds of silence before an answer. “Good.”

Cole seemed hesitant before speaking again “Does this mean I’m on the team? I did what you told me to do after all.”

“Is the body disposed of properly?”

Cole looked behind him at the body and grimaced. “Ah, just gimme a minute. I led the guy all the way to the incineration and containment room, so he won’t be nuthin’ but ashes in a minute.”

“Perfect, just finish that up and I’ll add you to the roster. Welcome aboard Mr. Hunt.”

“It wasn’t a problem. After you told me what that rat did I was considering doing this anyways. I hate goddamn traitors more than anything.”

“That is exactly why I told you what Mr. Brown did in the first place.”

For a moment Cole seemed uncertain. He hadn’t realized he had been manipulated into murder so easily. “I’m gonna have to be careful around this Brimstrome guy” thought Cole. It didn’t matter in the end though. Cole was now part of the anti-diclonius squad that would be in charge of mission OVERTHROWTHEKING. He was going to have a second crack at splitting the head of that murderous diclonius that killed every friend he had.

Now just to finish with the body…

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Noah pocketed his own transmitter. He was standing in front of a normal sized metal door when Cole had called. Now with that piece of business taken care of it was time to check up on his ace in the hole. Even though Jeremiah Fontenot was a two parts genius and three parts stuck up, he was right about one thing. Noah Fontenot never did anything this big without a backup plan. A contingency plan if you will. Noah felt a smirk tugging at the ends of his lips and suppressed it. He reached out and pressed his palm against a scanner. A second later the door slid open and disappeared into the wall with a serpentine hiss. He stepped through the door and it closed noiselessly behind him.

The room he had just entered was a small viewing room with a large one-way window on the far side. The window gave viewers a safe vantage point to the neighboring room. There was already one man inside. The man was speaking into a radio microphone.

“Partner. Partner. Partner. Partner…” he repeated every three seconds in a monotone voice. With every word he spoke a shrill feminine scream of pain and anguish sprang from the adjacent room. The sound of delicate machinery was nearly drowned out by the agonized cries. The man seemed unfazed by the shrieks and just spoke that single word again and again.

Noah approached the man and cleared his throat. The man didn’t stop repeating right away but instead pressed a button on the microphone. Then he stood up to his full height, picked up a bottle of water, and lifted it to his lips. Noah saw that his lips were parched. He drank heavily for almost a full minute before expelling a satisfied Ahh! All the while a recorded voice continued repeating the single word, “Partner,” over and over. Each time it was accompanied with a fresh pain scream. Then at last he turned to acknowledge Noah’s existence.

“What can I do for you Mr. Brimstrome?” the man asked with a heavy Chinese accent. Noah strode past the man and looked down into the bordering room. Bright green lights splayed across his blue eyes. Then he turned to the man and answered.

“I was just checking on my patient Dr. Suchong.”

The man, Dr. Suchong, smirked wearily “Subject Amber is strong spirit, it will take long time to break her.”

Noah returned his gaze down into the room. The interior was light with bright green lights that casted a soft light every horrific detail. There was a modified operating table in the center of the room. Hanging above the table was a large 42" High-definition 1080p 240Hz LCD TV. The television was playing a disorienting hypnotic video that flashed countless images and numerous subliminal messages. Of course, Noah had written all of the messages himself.

There were seven small robotic arms poised over the table, each one attached with a surgical knife. The knives were dripping with blood. The blood belonged to a nearly naked woman strapped down by steel bands that bound all her limbs and across her chest and pelvis. Each time the word “partner” was spoken the mechanical arms dipped down and pierced the woman’s flesh with the knives. Her small mouth opened with a scream of pain and grief. Then the knives would lift back out of her body and wait for the next word. Sweat ran down her body and mixed in with her blood as she panted for air. Tears poured out of her beautiful yellowish-brown eyes. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, which was swept around her head like an angelic halo.

Down came the knives.

She screamed.

Up went the knives.

Noah watched with unsympathetic eyes. She looked like a human being, but two long horns poking out of her skull said otherwise. She wasn’t a human, she was a diclonius. Officially, she was Subject S-148, but her name was An-Mei, she had been transported to the American facility from Japan. Upon arriving to the States she was given a new name to fit her. And so An-Mei became Amber. This name was attributed to her blonde hair and amber eyes.

Down came the knives.

Am- Subject S-148 screamed.

Up went the knives.

Yet it wasn’t like all diclonius at the facility was treated in this manner. The American diclonius facility branch thought itself much more humane than the Japanese branches and much more so than the Russian. At least here, the diclonii were clothed. This particular specimen (Noah thought of them as specimen, not individuals) was being prepared for the special mission under Noah Brimstrome. She was his ace in the hole, if all else failed he would have her. And if she wasn’t needed after all, then she was easily disposed of.

The only problem was that she wasn’t broken yet. Despite all the pain she has been put through for the last twelve hours, Amber hasn’t broken down. In fact, Dr. Suchong had to replace the knives because her blood was dulling the blades. He wasn’t worried that she would die from blood loss, her kind healed unnaturally quickly. And if she did happen to die, there were over a hundred other candidates to choose from. Noah wasn’t too picky on which diclonius to send, but he had chosen Amber for a number of reasons. For one thing, her hair was blonde instead of purple or red. This means if she was sent on the field she would easily blend in with the humans. The most important reason was because of her powers. It wasn’t that she had incredible powers that would dwarf the powers of Subject D-1. Her powers were in fact nearly perfectly equal to his powers. She had thirteen vectors with a range of 2.3 meters. Each vector was strong enough to render limb from limb as well as deflect mid-low caliber bullets. Fortunately for Noah, she couldn’t use her vectors while in excruciating pain. Overall, she was stronger to Subject D-1, but only slightly so.

Noah knows that if an overpowered diclonius were to defeat and kill her objective, she could get loose in the city. But because Amber was only slightly stronger than her objective, which means that she would be most likely too injured to escape. The hypnosis spell that was being etched into her brain from the television set should give Noah complete control over her. Still, this alone left far too much to chance. Noah had to be prepared for anything. It occurred to him that he could just implant bombs inside her body. Planting bombs inside a diclonii’s body to ensure obedience has been done before. Yet it seemed too barbaric and there were too many problems associated with bombs. Yes, hypnosis was a much better and cleaner method.

Down came the knives.

Subject S-148 screamed.

Up went the knives.

“Well, it’s mostly cleaner.” thought Noah Brimstrome. He walked out of the room in silence. The tortured screams followed him until the sound-proof door locked in place. The screams of the diclonius were cut off like a guillotine victim.

Everything was going according to plan.

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End Chapter Eight: The Best Laid Plans

This was so much fun to write. I just couldn’t contain myself so I just typed and typed until this baby came out clean. Just don’t get used to quick chapter updates like this. I got lucky this time and it may be a long while until the next chapter comes out. Next chapter will return to Samael. How is he adjusting to his new life and what exactly is he planning on doing next?