Leaning forward, the three all looked down to see the cluster of ants working hard to secure provisions for their colony for the upcoming winter. While Vinnie smiled at having caught such tiny targets in his scent exercise, Kate’s soft gasp showed she was clearly impressed. Eddie, for his part, simply remained impassive.
“That part you were having trouble identifying was probably the ants’ chitin. You’ve probably never smelled anything like it before, so you didn’t know what it was. See,” I said, standing up, “when it comes to scents, there aren’t really any actual words or labels for them. It’s more of an instinctual knowledge and understanding of what it is you’re smelling without associating any kind of word to describe it. You smelled the ants,” I told him, “and you were able to separate the two scents of their meat and their chitin, but you couldn’t really label them. The only reason why you said one of them was ‘meat’ is because that’s the closest thing your human brain could come up with for a description. As you get more and more in touch with your animals, you’re going to find the process of labeling things like scents is a waste of time and energy. Not to mention your animal instincts won’t even know what it means to label something.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I told them when I saw a trio of faces bright with anticipation, “this isn’t something that’s going to happen fast. I only know about all of this because of my own wolf and her knowledge and the fact that I worked and trained with a pack of wolves for a few months back home. If I didn’t have those two things, I’d be just as clueless about all of this as you guys are.”
“So you really think it’s possible we can… get in touch with our animals like you have?” Kate asked uncertainly.
“When it comes to dogs, sure,” I said confidently. “As far as any other animals you can shift into, I’m guessing that’s just going to take time and a lot of immersion.”
As the three of them, Eddie included, nodded with a pretty significant level of respect towards me, I couldn’t help but think maybe I could do this. Maybe I really could teach these guys how to get in touch with their inner canine and get them at least reasonably close to the kind of symbiosis that I had with my wolf. I don’t think it would ever get to that level, since my wolf was actually a part of me in a way I doubted any shifter could replicate, but at the very least, I figured I could get them to tap into those animal instincts.
As we moved on to Kate’s experiment in scent recognition, I wondered just how successful I would be.
Westlake Industries, Reading, Pennsylvania
The sound of Harold Westlake’s thousand-dollar wing tips and Mallory Thompson’s equally expensive stiletto heels made for interesting counterpoints to one another as they strode down the hallway. The pair cut such an imposing image, almost as though they were equal in levels of power and command, that no one who passed them would ever suspect Mallory spent the majority of her nights naked at Westlake’s feet, often bound in an interesting and sensual way. Certainly, none of the five rather attractive women that followed in their wake had any inclination that the beautiful blonde was Westlake’s submissive and utterly devoted slave. Then again, considering what Westlake had offered them, they were unlikely to care one way or another.
The only ones who knew about the secretive status of the statuesque woman were the three individuals who looked up from their respective terminals when the large doors of the facility hissed open. Though they gave nothing away when their individual gazes landed on her, each knew of their own specific contribution that made her status in Westlake’s life and bed possible. Why would they, when the completion of their work would mean each of them would have the opportunity to choose one of their own.
“Gentlemen,” Westlake said in his typically confident, yet business-like voice as he entered the facility, “I understand you have some news for me.”
“Indeed we do, Mr. Westlake,” Dr. Wright said as he straightened from his terminal and made his way over to his employer. “These are your choices?” he asked, nodding to the five executives whom he was unfamiliar with.
“Are they suitable?” the businessman asked without any hint of condescension.
“That’s completely up to you Sir,” Dr. Wright said with a shrug as he nodded to his two associates to begin their preparations. “It doesn’t matter who the individual is on our end so long as you approve of the subject. Can I assume that they have been briefed on what’s taking place?”
“To a degree,” Westlake said as he and Mallory stepped away from the group to be nearer to the scientist. “I have elected not to give them any specifics regarding what will be taking place,” he expounded in a quieter tone so the five women would not hear him. “It would be wise not to allow them any inkling regarding how this process will work.”
Looking just past the large man to the five women milling about by the door, the scientist nodded understandingly. “Frank,” he called out, looking over to the engineer examining the systems check for the device, “would you please bring these ladies into the prep room and get them ready.”
Nodding, the younger man in the flannel locked out his station before gesturing for the women to follow him into an adjoining room. Just before he entered into it, he looked back at Dr. Wright and raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
“Zero operational knowledge,” Wright said. Nodding once more, Paul stepped into the room currently holding the women and allowed the door to hiss closed behind them. “Paul will have them all change into hospital gowns,” the scientist explained, “establish IV’s for all of them, and then administer a rather potent sedative that will render them unconscious for as long as we need them to be.”
“I didn’t know your engineer was medically trained,” Mallory observed with some interest.
“Both Paul and Peter received Combat Lifesaver training, which includes starting IVs,” Dr. Wright told the woman with a hint of superiority. “It keeps the circle of those knowledgeable of this project small.”
“A wise decision,” Westlake agreed, ignoring the look of indignation Mallory was trying to hide. “I assume the other half of our… volunteers arrived without difficulty.”
“Certainly,” Wright responded with a smile. “They arrived yesterday and are currently being housed in prep room two,” he informed his employer, nodding at another door off to the side of the room, “with adequate guards of course.”
“Good,” the CEO nodded in approval as he looked over the large, complex machine that dominated the majority of the lab. To anyone not familiar with the device, it appeared to be a large, shiny, metal sphere with several tentacle-like probes extending from its sides down to a pair of spaces that could easily accommodate a pair of hospital beds where they terminated into a series of electrodes. Numerous wires that extended from various parts of the room and even from outside of it fed into the sphere at its top. It was only due to the fact that Westlake insisted in being kept informed of every step taken in the construction of this machine that he knew precisely what it was capable of and why it looked the way it did.
“How soon until we can begin?” Westlake demanded mildly, “I want to observe your first procedure.”
“Only as long as it takes for our latest subjects to be put under,” Wright assured him with a slight smile. “In the interim, I can bring out the first of our primary subjects to be prepped for the procedure.” When his employer nodded his approval, Wright walked over to his station and picked up the phone located there. “Bring out subject one please,” he told the person on the other end of the line before hanging up.
A minute later, the one set of doors that had yet to open slid apart to allow a man who was clearly a guard to enter the room pushing a gurney upon which a man approximately in his forties lay. As the guard moved the gurney into position, Wright picked up a clear vial containing a tiny chip inside it. “I must admit Mr. Westlake,” the scientist said as he approached the unconscious man on the bed, “I am a bit confused why you would choose this man, along with the oth
ers, to be the first subjects of the project. It seems rather… well,” the man said with candor, “a waste of resources if I were to be honest.”
Westlake smiled, and it was not a gesture that was designed to instill comfort in any who looked upon it. Only the scientist’s knowledge of how valuable he was to the man prevented him from worrying that he was about to suffer from a rather unpleasant fate. “I can understand why you would think that,” Westlake said amiably, “if you were only focused on the operational part of this project. I’m sure you are familiar with who this man is?”
Without even bothering to look at the unconscious man, Wright nodded. “Of course.”
“Then, you can imagine that I might be somewhat… upset with what he’s been spewing out to the news media as of late.”
Considering Wright had seen the unconscious man on television tearing into Westlake for the campaign platform he was running on lately, it didn’t take much in the way of imagination to figure out just how ‘upset’ Westlake might be with him. Still…
“Again, Mr. Westlake, not to question your orders, but why bring the full power of project Mantis on him instead of Project Norman. It would be considerably easier to do that.”
“Because I don’t want him to be a recipient of Project Norman.”
For several seconds, Dr. Wright blinked in surprise and confusion at his employer. “Excuse me?”
“Project Norman will be engaged upon this body, yes,” he said, pointing to the unconscious man, “but not to the other.”
“But that would mean…” The scientist’s voice trailed off as understanding came to him. “Oh,” he said quietly, “I see. I take it, then, that you wish to have an adjustment made to the Norman section of this operation?”
“Only engage the compliance protocols,” Westlake directed, “I have no use for the remainder.”
Nodding, Wright looked over at Peter, who had been listening to the conversation this whole time. Without needing to say a word, the programmer nodded his understanding and turned to set about reprogramming another chip. “Five minutes,” he informed the others.
“Should I ensure an extended time of unconsciousness for the female subject?” the scientist inquired.
“I would say an hour would be sufficient,” Westlake said after a moment of consideration. “The recovery time after the procedure is brief as I understand it.”
“Considering the lack of the Norman protocol,” Wright agreed, “recovery will only take approximately twenty minutes to ensure stabilization.”
“Good,” the CEO said with a nod, his unsettling smile returning, “I have been informed that her new owner is standing by at the airport.”
The way Westlake, and Mallory for that matter, were smiling with clearly dark intentions in their minds, Dr. Wright was once again thankful for his rather high level of status and value within the company. While he wasn’t completely privy to his employer’s thoughts and intentions, it was quite clear what they were in this particular instance. The lack of the Norman Project implementation, the reference to a new ‘owner’ waiting at the airport, the collection of beautiful women being prepared in the next room to take part, knowingly or unknowingly, in the Mantis Project. It didn’t require a great deal of imagination to determine what the results of this first implementation of Project Mantis would involve.
It was also quite clear that being an enemy or outspoken opponent of Harold Westlake would result in a fate that Wright had absolutely no intention of sharing.
Undisclosed Location, Chicago, Illinois
Ashe felt his chest tighten slightly as he watched events unfold on the bank of monitors in his command center. While experiencing a keen sense of helplessness to halt the events playing out before his eyes, he watched an older man wheeled out and positioned at the base of the device. A short time later, a beautiful young woman with long, dark hair was also wheeled out and positioned opposite the man before both had a multitude of electrodes attached to various sections of their heads. It was somewhat surprising that the process had been refined not only to eliminate the need for invasive probes, but that the electrodes could be effectively placed without needing to shave the subject/victim’s head.
That surprise, however, took a significant back seat to Ashe’s analysis of what was taking place. Once the electrodes were put into place, the entire device was activated. Thanks to Westlake ensuring all of his surveillance cameras were equipped not only with HD recording capacity, but audio recording as well, Ashe was able to hear the steps of the process taking place as well as see it. From the loud hum coming from the machine, he imagined a great deal of power was required for this process to take place. A check of the power grid metering later would likely confirm this as well as indicate just how much was needed.
Since both participants in the process were unconscious during the procedure, it was both a blessing and a curse that the vigilante was unable to determine if the process was painful or not. While it might have told him more about what was taking place, he had no interest in potentially hearing twin screams of helpless agony. As it was, there was no outward sign that anything was taking place. Neither body jumped or even so much as twitched; there were no sparks or arcing electricity. Other than the humming and the progress being called out by the team involved in the project, a casual observer would have no idea anything was even happening in the room.
After thirty minutes, the hum died away, leaving the room almost eerily quiet. After several minutes, the large form of Harold Westlake stepped over to the man in the lab coat and demanded, “Well?”
“Brain pattern has stabilized,” the man reported, “I just need to check their readings against the baseline.” Looking over a computer screen that, unfortunately, was turned away from the camera, the man nodded slowly before smiling. “Transfer complete,” he announced. “Brain activity normalizing and stable.”
“Excellent,” the CEO said, approaching the form of the unconscious young woman. Upon reaching her side, he looked down at her beautiful, youthful face in silence for several moments before a cold, cruel smile curved his lips. “I can only imagine the confusion and fear you’ll experience in those first moments when you wake up, Richard. Perhaps one day I’ll make an official visit to see your owner and see just how much you’ve learned before telling you it was me who did this to you.”
While the scientist shivered with barely repressed horror, Mallory Thompson stood stoically just behind her employer. Were it not for the HD quality, allowing for Ashe to zoom in on certain segments of the image, he might have missed the faint, almost imperceptible flicker of… jealousy?
“Now, why would an assistant and campaign manager be jealous about her boss fucking another woman?” he murmured to himself. “Unless…”
Quickly tapping out a command into the keyboard, Ashe rolled back the video footage all the way to when Mallory had first approached Westlake in his office and informed him that the scientist and his team wanted to see him. He muted the sound since more often than not Ashe found words and tone could be used to disguise true feelings if the person were skilled at it. Considering the work Mallory did, he surmised she possessed at least a considerable amount of that skill.
Sure enough, moments after the woman strode into the office with the camera zoomed in on her face once more he saw the unmistakable expression of someone completely and utterly devoted to another. A poet might have classified it as ‘love’, but Ashe could see this went much deeper and darker than that simple emotion. This was desire of a base, carnal nature mixed with an unmistakable submissiveness on the woman’s part. It wasn’t only in her expression, but in her movements as well that told the tale of what was going on in her mind.
Powerful women, confident in their position and their work, stood proudly, almost arrogantly. Mallory Thompson certainly stood proudly before her employer/candidate. However, instead of arrogance, she held and positioned her body in a way clearly designed to display her beauty to its fullest rather than present the im
age of strength and self-assurance. It was almost as though…
“Son of a bitch,” Ashe said to himself as the realization hit him.
“You say something boss?” Gear asked as he walked into the command center with WiseCrack at his side.
“We’re too late for Project Norman,” the vigilante said with a sigh. “It looks like he’s perfected and implemented the technology for at least a couple of weeks now.”
“How do you know that?” the weaponsmith asked in confusion as he peered closely at the screen.
Scrubbing the video footage back a few minutes, Ashe turned to look at WiseCrack. “Tell me what you see,” he ordered before resuming the video once more.
There was absolute silence in the room for sixty seconds before WiseCrack’s gasp came sharp and fast. “Fuck!” she hissed.
“What?” Gear demanded in angry confusion.
“She’s his slave,” WiseCrack said, pointing at Mallory.
Squinting, the weaponsmith watched the video closely before shaking his head. “How can you possibly know that?”
“Because Kitty had the same look in her eyes whenever Libidine was able to influence her. It’s not quite as intense,” she allowed, “but then, Westlake doesn’t have access to the powers of a lust demon. But how do we know that’s a result of Project Norman?” the hacker asked carefully, looking at Ashe. “For all we know, she’s just into the BDSM lifestyle and latched onto Westlake as her dominant.”
Marking Territory: An Awakened Novel (The Rising Storm Book 1) Page 17