Evil Forces Walden

Chapter 2- What it's like p2

The air in the laboratory hung thick with the smell of ozone and burnt metal. Caligula stalked through the room, her boots clicking impatiently on the grimy floor. Two figures hunched over a tangle of wires and sparking conduits, their faces illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Why don't you fix it faster?!" she snapped, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. "Don't you know I'm going to practice my experiment?!" The word dripped with a sibilant hiss, hinting at the nature of her "practice."

One of the workers, a man with grease smeared across his forehead, straightened up wearily. "I don't think we can fix it in a day, ma'am. The power regulator is completely fried."

Caligula's eyes narrowed. "Then you better find a faster solution. I don't tolerate incompetence." She turned on her heel, dismissing them with a flick of her wrist.

She retreated to the hall, hoping to find solace in the book Stella had gifted her. Something by Machiavelli, disguised as light reading. But as she settled into a worn armchair, a new figure approached. He was tall and well-dressed, a stark contrast to the grime and disarray of the facility.

"Who the heck are you?" Caligula demanded, her hand instinctively reaching for the hidden pistol beneath her coat.

"My name is Rautha," he replied, offering a polite nod.

Caligula lowered her hand slightly, assessing him. "Hmm...it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rautha. Besides, I am very pleased that someone is a gentleman, probably like you. Sorry that this day wasn't the best—after we tried to invade Flendale's city called Pesota."

Rautha's eyes widened slightly. "I think we have to be careful when we are invading them. I told you, there are so many of them, now they have Task Forces to do their job, some police and soldiers there..."

A cruel smile played on Caligula's lips. "I will prove to them who they think I'm not. I will make sure that I can give them a big disaster that they are not going to expect, because I am a different person that they will ever realize."

"Because I believe in you, Caligula."

Caligula tilted her head, intrigued. "I didn't know that you're also one of the new members here. How come?"

"Oh, someone just recruited me. It was Vinse's father, one of your trusted henchmen."

"I know, and I'm so glad that you came here. You weren't mistaken to come here, I'm telling you." Caligula stood, her eyes gleaming with a renewed fervor. "Your insights will be invaluable."

"That's good to know." Rautha offered a knowing smile, and Caligula saw, in that instant, a reflection of her own ambition. He understood the game she was playing, the stakes involved. He was an asset, a pawn, and perhaps, something more.

Meanwhile, in Pesota, the mood was buoyant. Emily stood on a makeshift stage, bathed in the adulation of the crowd.

"I am so grateful that we are all safe!" she declared, her voice ringing with conviction. "The Walden family thought they were going to kill us, but we are better than them because we have better knowledge than them!"

The people roared their approval.

"I would like to let you know that I want to sort this problem out against Evil, and I am doing my whole responsibilities against them! I will prove to you that our home was always been protected and secure by us!"

Flendale stepped forward and shook Emily's hand, sealing a pact of mutual trust and shared purpose.

"Now I can guarantee her trust, and don't worry that sooner we are going to do this for the greater good and we will take down Evil Forces once again!!" Flendale announced to the cheering crowd.

But Caligula, hidden away in her laboratory, with Rautha whispering ideas in her ear, was already weaving her next scheme. The cheers of Pesota would soon turn to screams. The game had only just begun.

Stella paced the opulent, yet sterile, confines of her private quarters. The television screen, now black and lifeless, reflected her distorted image back at her – a woman consumed by fury and frustration. Outside, the world celebrated the triumph of... well, them. Flendale and his insufferable team. They had dared to succeed where she, Stella, had faltered.

"Look what they have done!" she spat, the words laced with venom. "They are enjoying their victory against us!" She hurled a delicate crystal paperweight across the room. It shattered against the wall, a small act of rebellion against the crushing weight of failure.

Caligula, ever the pragmatist, leaned against the doorway, his expression unreadable. "This is not as easy as you expected, Mother."

"Easy?" Stella whirled around, her eyes blazing. "Do you think I'm just going to be happy about their stupid success? This is... infuriating!"

"Mother, you need to relax..." Caligula's voice was calm, almost soothing, a stark contrast to the tempest raging within her.

"How can I relax?" she shrieked, her voice cracking.

Caligula sighed. "We have time. More importantly, we need you calm. I'd rather not deal with a medical emergency on top of everything else. It will take time to dismantle their victory, but it can be done."

"Caligula, don't you understand the implications of their winning?" Stella's voice dropped, fear creeping into her tone. "I don't want to lose everything! They'll destroy our laboratories... our projects! That's what's important to me!" Her voice rose in pitch again.

Mr. Techno, a wizened man with perpetually grease-stained fingers, entered the room, his gait slow and deliberate. "Stella, you need to calm yourself. Not all the laboratories have been compromised."

"No, I'm not going to relax!" Stella snapped. "Do you know what it's like to be a scientist, to have your life's work threatened, your equipment destroyed?"

"Don't worry," Mr. Techno reassured, his voice surprisingly steady. "This isn't the end. We can fix this. Flendale is nothing but a puffed-up peacock. It's no problem if one of our laboratories was destroyed, because we will improve our defenses which will soon enough allow us to continue what we already started."

Stella paused, her anger momentarily suppressed by a flicker of hope. "Good. And I want you to make an announcement, because it will take years to rebuild our hideout. It's now bigger than Flendale's main military base."

Soon enough, the announcement was made. Gertrude, a man known for his calm demeanor and strategic mind, addressed the assembled members from a podium. An unsettling alarm blared briefly, demanding attention before he spoke.

"I have an important announcement. Some of you will not agree, but in order to protect ourselves, we have to do this. Some of you will undergo intensive military training because of the recent loses, where a laboratory was destroyed. This is the only way to improve our defenses and continue on what we need to do."

The year was 1996. Inside the sterile, concrete walls of the facility, four young women, barely past childhood, were molded into weapons. Gertrude, Code 1, Anestesia, and Warden. Mr. Techno's policy was unwavering: training began at eleven, basic conditioning at six. Age was irrelevant; obedience and effectiveness were everything.

The air in the training yard vibrated with exertion. Today was strength conditioning. Gertrude strained, muscles screaming, as she hefted a replica of a heavy machine gun. Warden, stoic and silent, moved with an almost unnerving grace, her movements precise and economical. Code 1, ever the pragmatist, focused on her grip, her face a mask of concentration.

Next, they were in the bomb-making lab, a place that always smelled faintly of sulfur and ozone. Anestesia, usually the most buoyant of the group, seemed subdued, her brow furrowed as she carefully measured out chemicals. This wasn't her forte. She preferred hand-to-hand combat, where her lithe frame and quick reflexes gave her an edge.