Weekly-ish challenge #16 - Curiosity

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Welcome to another week, and the first announced by the calender. Its time again for me to haul out the challenges for you. This week looks limiting at first glance but I can think of dozens of possible subjects (if I can't write about it I don't post it) so lets have at it.

Just a paragraph thats all you need to write, and if you can't then just write what you can. Its all for fun.

This week's challenge: The experiment.
 
I fucked up, I really really fucked up. I tried to tell my supervisors and they don't understand. He's gone, the subject that we've been keeping in that tube, locked away in cell block 5, gone. I looked away for just a second when I was analyzing him, and when I looked back up, he wasn't there anymore. He's somewhere still in this building, I know it. I locked the place down, but they still don't understand, they want to open the place back up, but don't they understand? He'll escape! We don't even know a thing about him!
 
...And I was struck at a young age, with this sort of blinding curiousity for the human body. Any type of body really.
You want me to explain it but I really can't.
The deep, dark feeling in the pit of your stomach when you see blood.
The strange, sort of lingering thrill as more is revealed to you.
Its a like an artist's work or an archeologist finding. You want to see more.
And the scalpel is my paintbrush, or my trowel.
It shows me the wonder and the magic of the human body.
It digs deep into sinew.
Into collogen.
Into bone.
Oh, excuse me. I seemed to have started salivating. My apologies.
But, back to the topic, Detective.
This feeling is akin to a base jumper's high. A something that exhilerates you.
This is as best I can explain to you, Detective.
Please, stop looking at me like that. Its rather rude, you know.
"Jail?" Why ever would I go to jail?
They were criminals, outcasts of society. No one would have missed them.
Some are actually happy, they're gone.
"How many?" Shouldn't you know the answer to that? You're the detective here.
Well, I guess I'll tell you. 63
Don't look so shocked. I've been doing this since before you were born.
 
Processing...
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>1847jqw77y
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Access Granted.
Welcome, Colonel Maxwell.

Message Received. Sender: Doctor Samuel Radcliffe
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-URGENT-

It started as an urge. An urge to find out more, an urge to see what their frail bodies held beneath the skin. Specials, we called them. Why? Well...they were special, that's why. All disabled. Blind. Deaf. Crippled. But they mutated.

And it wasn't the normal mutations. They didn't just get better senses in all other aspects, no.

They grew...abilities.

Take Subject Z, for instance. One of the last to be found, and by far the most impressive. She was blind. Formerly a normal teenage girl, Subject Z mutated doglike senses. She could hear things with almost perfect precision and her sense of smell was far greater than any normal human. But that was far from it. Z could create ice.

Yes, you read that right. It was strangely beautiful, in a deadly and cold way. And she didn't much appreciate being dragged away from her family. That's where it all started. She was very intelligent, which, in hindsight, was apparent from the get-go. And she was not complacent. Z often demanded to be taken back to her loved ones, despite the fact that they had been the ones that had called her in. Maybe she didn't know.

Anyway, we put her off and continued our testing. The eye surgeries didn't quite work the way we hoped, and her blindness became unfixable thanks to a mixup of chemicals. It's not like we could send the government a defective weapon, anyway. So we scheduled to implant her with mechanical ones.

Then we started to notice that her abilities were growing, but we ignored it. That was our mistake.

It happened suddenly.

The cameras went out...and then she was gone. Escaped from her cell, the door busted open with ice shards decorating the floor around the twisted metal. She wasn't the only one, either. All of the remaining Specials had gotten out- with her help, no less. And they had banded together behind her.

It was a bloodbath- I can still hear the screams of our soldiers as they attempted to stop them, but it's no use going into detail over that. The whole point is, I need your help. They're still here. All of them. I have attached a file detailing all the Specials we had contained here. Please, help us...I don't know how much longer we can hidakSJHDfnm,adsnbv

/;QMWKDu823r

aqklwdf;-

ASD,G≥VG4 ,KNABFS

Hello. This is Areon. Or, otherwise, your precious Subject Z. I'm coming for you next. You should have never taken us.

We never got the chance to grow up.

You will never have the chance to grow old.

Message Ended.
Reply?
 
"I need a science experiment Mom," I said in that exasperated tone of a preteen at their wits end.

"Ok..when is this due?"

A deep groan left my throat as she looked at the floor, "Friday."

"Constance Denise Pottle...how may times have I told you not to let these things go til the last minute?"

"Probably forty-five but MOOOOM...I am desperate. I can't think of anything."

She smiled indulgently at me and patted my head, "You could do what I did. The Soda test."

"What's the Soda test?"

"I put a ball of raw hamburger into a cup of soda of all different kinds and then recorded the results. It was also why I never drank it again. Get your coat, we will go grab a bunch of bottles and a package of hamburger."

So the thing was decided and I watched in horror as the Mountain Dew ate that hamburger in less than five fifteen minutes. Gone as if it never was put in there. The Pepsi wasn't far behind. The Orange soda never actually ate it all even though I left it sit overnight. It was a very enlightening experiment, and I ended up getting an A on it. Sometimes Moms are the greatest.