Morbius

by Brendan Deneen

  They were never in touch at all. None of them.

  Franklin fell into poverty. He begged his parents for help, and they would give him meager handouts, telling him to keep trying, that he needed to be his own man. Like his father had. Eventually, Franklin said things in anger. Bad things. Nasty things.

  They stopped returning his calls.

  The checks stopped arriving.

  Franklin lost his apartment. Began living on the street. Ate out of dumpsters—at least the ones into which he could clamber. He thought about killing himself. Was ready to try, and then he heard about a church that was looking for members. He had always shunned religion, thought it was ridiculous, but this one sounded different. Its name alone intrigued him.

  Demon-Fire.

  He felt like a monster, so that name felt right. His kind of place.

  The first meeting he attended was in an abandoned church in the South Bronx, which also felt right. He sat in the moldy pew with a scattering of other people, water dripping down onto him from the broken roof.

  A woman with a veil over the bottom half of her face stood in front of them and spoke quietly. She told them about the inequities of the world, about how the rich and the corrupt had perverted all of society, and how Demon-Fire had a plan to fix it. To fix everything.

  This was like no church he had ever encountered. Franklin felt as if he was the only person in the church, like she was talking directly to him. He saw more love and caring in her eyes than he ever had from his parents. As the woman continued to speak, he had to hold back tears.

  He was home.

  For the few who decided they wanted to hear more, the woman in the veil led them to a shuttle that was idling outside. As Franklin took a step up into the vehicle, he chanced a glance behind. He feared he would never see her again.

  She was standing there, close to him, and stared directly into his eyes.

  “I suspect that you are bound for great things, Mr. Lattimer,” she whispered. “Franklin.” She remembered his name, even though they had spoken for maybe thirty seconds within the church. Franklin was more confident than ever that he was making the right choice.

  He smiled at her, wishing he knew her name, wishing he knew what to say. But he’d always struggled for the right words, and instead he just nodded, then turned around and climbed with some difficulty into the shuttle, quickly finding a window seat. When he looked back out to the sidewalk, she was gone.

  * * *

  FRANKLIN PLUNGED headfirst into the world of Demon-Fire. He attended classes where they read ancient texts and discussed the failings of the modern world. They fasted. Then they ate huge meals that were nothing if not gluttonous. He made friends and realized that every single one of the trainees nursed deep emotional wounds.

  However, he was the only one with such obvious physical limitations. When their training began to encompass feats of dexterity and strength, he simply couldn’t keep up. Whenever he found himself alone, he would rage at his inability to compete with the other acolytes. He wanted them to like him so badly, but he could see the pity in their eyes as they advanced, as one by one they were given red robes of their own.

  Each of his friends graduated, and were sent off across the country to different sects. Then a new group of trainees would be brought in, and Franklin was still there. He became something like a pet to them, and he had to fight against the hatred that started to fester.

  Eventually, Franklin reached the point where he thought foraging on the streets of New York City would be better than being a joke within the cult. He was living in a small room at one of the cult’s New York headquarters, with only a bed and a sink. He shared a communal bathroom with the trainees, but had been given his own room after it was clear that bullying wasn’t always relegated to a person’s childhood years.

  Then, one day, there was a knock at his door.

  “Come in,” he said softly, standing up and adjusting his glasses, straightening his wispy hair. He’d never had a visitor before.

  A senior cult member entered, a bald man with a thick beard. Franklin recognized him. He was new, had recently joined the sect, and walked with an air of supreme confidence. Franklin looked down at the floor and mumbled, “Good evening, Brother.”

  “Good evening, Franklin,” the man replied, his voice deep and thick.

  A moment of silence ensued and Franklin finally looked up, finding the man’s dark eyes locked on him. Franklin forced a smile. He knew what was coming. Luckily, he didn’t have much to pack… didn’t have anything, really.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” the man said, and Franklin nearly jumped out of his skin. What did that mean? He hadn’t done anything which would have generated any kind of talk. Franklin spent most of his days in the cult’s mostly unused laboratory, attempting to create potions based on old occult texts, and analyzing strange fluids that were labeled “demon’s blood.” He’d always assumed that was a euphemism, but the deeper his research took him, the more he wondered.

  “Whatever I’ve done…” Franklin said, his voice strained, “I’m sorry.”

  The man laughed. In the small room, the sound seemed deafening, and Franklin fought an urge to cover his ears.

  “You have no reason to apologize,” the man continued. “My name is Thaddeus. I’ve been keeping track of your work… quietly… and I’m impressed. I’ve been brought to this sect from San Francisco to help exploit the incredible resources that can only be found in this city. The amount of supernatural activity here is unprecedented, and I want your help, Franklin. So does High Priestess Lark.”

  The man extended his hand, a cruel yet inviting smile slipping onto his face.

  “Will you help us? Will you help us save the world?”

  It was the moment Franklin had been waiting for his entire life. When someone powerful sought him out, wanted what he had to offer the world. He felt as if he might cry, but marshaled himself and remained composed. This was no time to show weakness.

  Franklin reached out and slipped his malformed hand into the cultist’s.

  “I would love to,” he said as boldly as he could.

  “Excellent,” Thaddeus responded, squeezing hard enough that pain shot up Franklin’s arm. “Come then. There’s no time to waste.”

  * * *

  THE DAYS blurred.

  Under Thaddeus’ watchful gaze, Franklin was given sole control of the laboratory. Anything he wanted, Thaddeus made sure he had it. He was given bizarre fluids that had highly unusual properties. When he asked too many questions about the source of such arcane materials, Thaddeus would simply shake his head and his dark eyes would say, Just do your job.

  Indeed, Franklin knew enough to do his work, and to create formulas based on what the cult told him they desired. At first, he tested them on rats, helpless creatures whose eyes bulged when he stuck them with needles and plunged the strange-colored liquids into their writhing bodies.

  Many died.

  Dozens, probably hundreds.

  But Franklin didn’t give up. More and more strange liquids were brought to him, every color of the rainbow and more. He knew now to never ask questions regarding their origins. And then, one night, at God knew what hour, he was successful.

  He injected his latest formula into what must have been his tenth rat of the day and then put it back into its cage. Sitting back, he waited for the small animal to die a violent death, like all the vermin before it.

  But it didn’t die.

  Instead, it began breathing heavily, screeching, and ran around in circles within the small cage. Franklin sat forward, his eyes widening. Before his eyes, the rat’s back suddenly split open, dark red blood spurting out, but the creature stopped screaming. Instead it bared its teeth, a low growl coming from the back of its throat.

  Four boney appendages burst forth out of the jagged hole in its back, then bent and curled down to the floor of the cage. The rat raised itself up on the new limbs, shaky at first, but then seemed to find its balance. I
ts head turned and it saw Franklin, drool falling from its mouth. The rat leapt at him, causing him to fall out of his chair in terror, but the creature just slammed violently against the metal. Throwing itself against it again and again, a high-pitched shriek accompanying each thrust.

  Franklin picked himself up off the floor and stared at the thing that used to be a rat. Its fur was falling off and its skin was blackening. It stared at its captor with absolute hatred in its eyes. Franklin smiled, and laughed.

  Then he ran to tell Thaddeus.

  Word of Franklin’s success spread like wildfire through the cult. They had been attempting this kind of arcane breakthrough for years. He was quickly moved out of his small room and into a luxury penthouse in Katz Tower, given new clothes that perfectly fit his small body, and was assigned as many assistants as he needed.

  The laboratory, which had been a run-down, dreary affair, was outfitted with all the best equipment, including refrigerators in which Franklin could store his successful formulas, alongside blood from the hybrid creatures he was creating. High-level cult members would often visit to pay their respects and watch him work.

  Once, Thaddeus asked him if there was anyone in the world upon whom which he wished to visit justice, and he handed over his parents’ address. From that day forth he never asked any questions about what had followed. He hated them, but he didn’t want to know any details.

  Then came his first human subject.

  They brought him to the underground facility. Franklin didn’t know where the cult got him, was reluctant to ask, but the man clearly hadn’t volunteered. Several cult members dragged his unconscious form into the lab and placed him on an operating table, securing him there with thick leather straps. They nodded at Franklin and left the room. A moment later, Thaddeus entered.

  “It is time,” he said.

  The cult’s illicit scientist had known this day was coming, but still he felt ill-prepared. The experiments on the rats had become almost commonplace, and on occasion he’d graduated to larger creatures. There’d been rumors that they wanted Franklin to try with humans, but he had convinced himself that such talk was just theoretical. Now, however, that theory was lying on a table in front of him, slowly waking up.

  Thaddeus said nothing more, just stepped back and waited.

  The subject’s eyes blinked open, focused, and then landed on Franklin.

  “Please… help me,” the man choked out through chapped lips. A black eye was forming on his face and Franklin noticed multiple welts and bruises across his body. He had definitely not come peacefully. As quickly as it arrived, Franklin forced this realization out of his mind.

  This was the next logical step. Unlocking the potential of the human body, and perhaps eventually the human mind. Thaddeus had told him over and over again that they were going to rescue humanity from its own excess, and that sacrifices would always be necessary for progress to occur.

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” Franklin said to the man, walking over to him. He placed his hand on the subject’s shoulder in an effort to calm him, but the man’s entire body jumped at the contact.

  “My… my wife, she doesn’t know where I am. Can you—?”

  “I said everything is going to be fine!” Franklin suddenly shouted, interrupting his patient. He had never yelled like that before, not in his entire life, not even when his parents had belittled him. God knows he wanted to.

  Then he heard a chuckle behind him. Thaddeus. The sound should have angered him, but it didn’t. It only made him feel more powerful. Franklin pulled away from the subject and walked over to his table of instruments. His hands were shaking as he picked up the syringe. At first, he thought it was nerves. And then he realized it was excitement.

  He turned back around and approached his patient. The man’s eyes bulged when he saw what Franklin was holding.

  “Wait… please,” the man begged.

  “Shhhhh…” Franklin responded, smiling, and it was a genuine smile. Franklin was, on many levels, envious. He had offered to test the formula on himself, having no affection for his current form, but Thaddeus had categorically refused the request, saying that Franklin was too important. That made him feel powerful, too.

  “This will barely hurt at all,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “And then, I think, you will thank me. For unlocking what has always been inside you.”

  The man thrashed against his restraints but they were pulled tight against his body. Franklin very carefully pressed the syringe to the man’s vein and then plunged the needle in. The man screamed, more from fear than pain, Franklin knew. This part wasn’t painful. Not yet.

  “Franklin…” Thaddeus said, cautioning him with a single word.

  “I know, I know,” Franklin responded. He had explained this part to Thaddeus and his superiors on more than one occasion. “I’m only giving him enough to jumpstart the process, not fully engage it. This will be enough to see if the formula works, but it won’t allow the change to engage in its entirety.”

  “Might that small amount possibly kill him?”

  “Well, of course,” Franklin scoffed.

  “Wh-what?” the man on the table said, breathing heavily. He seemed about to ask more questions when an unearthly sound erupted from his lungs. Franklin took a step backward, grinning nervously.

  Here we go.

  The man continued to fight against his restraints, his screams hitting a crescendo and then fading away. Just when it seemed as if he was done, they started up again. Franklin could hear Thaddeus behind him, breathing heavily. It all came down to this. If it failed, Demon-Fire would throw Franklin out. Of that he was certain.

  Peering at the subject, he swallowed nervously. The man on the table didn’t look so good. Sweat had broken out all over his body, and his skin had turned a dark shade of pink.

  “Franklin…” Thaddeus intoned again.

  “Give it time!” Franklin barked, a bit more belligerently than he intended. He almost apologized, and then thought better of it. The experiment was either going to work, or it wasn’t. They’d gone past the point of apologies.

  Suddenly all was silent, and the man’s head flopped to the side, eyes closing. His body went entirely still.

  “God damn it,” Franklin whispered. Behind him, Thaddeus sighed.

  With a jerk, the subject suddenly screamed, as fur began to push through reddening skin. Short claws stabbed out through the tips of each of his fingers, causing existing fingernails to crack and be pushed away. Multiple wounds opened up, and odd-colored blood poured to the floor. It came from his mouth, as well, where several of his teeth had elongated and sharpened to points. His screams continued, but they were garbled.

  Then the transformation slowed down. The man—or whatever he was now—stopped screaming and thrashing against the restraints. Slowly, he turned his head and locked eyes with Franklin. The half-human, half-creature stared with a startling mix of confusion and rage, an evolutionary halfway point between man and beast living in a single body.

  “How much…?” Thaddeus asked, appearing next to Franklin but staring at the thing on the table. Franklin didn’t answer. He couldn’t seem to look away from the creature’s eyes. A large tear rolled down its face and was absorbed by the thick fur that had just recently appeared there.

  “How much?!” Thaddeus bellowed.

  “Only… a quarter of a dose.”

  Silence filled the cavernous laboratory for a long moment, then it was finally broken by something Franklin had only heard once before. Thaddeus’ laughter, still deep and booming. He placed his hands on Franklin’s shoulders and smiled. Franklin wasn’t sure if Thaddeus had ever touched him before. It was the kind of gesture he would have loved to have received from his father, but never had.

  Franklin reveled in the moment, despite the fact that it was being witnessed by some kind of monster.

  “You did it, Franklin. You did it. High Priestess Lark is going to be so happy. Do you know what we can do with th
is? The applications? The financial gain? This is a game changer, my friend. Yes, she is going to be very, very happy with you.”

  Franklin’s chin trembled slightly and he willed himself not to shed any tears. This was the greatest day of his life, but he had to remain professional. This was the only job he’d ever had, and even though he often questioned himself, sometimes wondered if he was doing the right thing, ultimately he believed what Thaddeus told him. They were going to make the world a better place.

  “Thank you,” Franklin whispered.

  “Prepare a full dose.” Thaddeus clapped him painfully on the shoulder and then walked toward the exit. “I’ll send some men down to transport him to the arena. Once he’s there, you’ll give him the rest, and we’ll see what that ugly bastard is capable of.”

  Franklin nodded, even though Thaddeus was already out the door and down the hallway. He could feel the creature’s eyes on his back, but didn’t have the heart to turn around. A low rumble came from the monster’s mouth, but at first he couldn’t make it out. The subject seemed to be attempting to say something—which was incredible, considering what it had just experienced.

  “What’s that?” Franklin said. He was distracted, though, still staring after Thaddeus, reveling in the moment.

  “My name… is Jake…” the thing on the table finally uttered, and then it went silent. Unconscious, most likely.

  The words punched a hole in Franklin’s gut, however, and finally the tears fell. There was a still a man inside that mutated lump of fur. Someone who had a wife, who had clearly been kidnapped and dragged to his fate beneath the earth. Franklin looked down at the floor and watched as a couple of his tears plummeted to the tiles.

  He clenched his teeth and reminded himself of the importance of their mission. Thaddeus was counting on him. Demon-Fire was counting on him—as was High Priestess Poison-Lark. Their methods might be extreme, but they were trying to save a planet that was spiraling toward destruction. How many innocent people died in Noah’s flood? It took moral courage to do the necessary things in order to bring about change. That’s what he had been told, and that’s what he believed. Had to believe.