Paper Molotov: Minnows

[Molotov]

(closed)

“The larger and more complex the organization, the more difficult it is to recover individual responsibility.”
- Michael Barnett, Eyewitness to a Genocide

[Molotov]

Mara was defeated. She hated to admit it, but she had been outsmarted so badly that she had essentially gift wrapped herself for her enemies. It hadn’t even required Molotov to catch her. That was, perhaps, Mara’s greatest shame. That even as a proxy, she was so incredibly predictable, that Molotov could leave it to his lab assistants to get her captured.

However, the shapeshifter had plans. Somehow, someway, she was going to escape. Once her escape was completed, Mara knew that she had the perfect revenge already planned. The lab did contain three rather large vials of Omega class serums, and Mara now knew there was little that Molotov feared more than them. When she had the chance, she would expose him to the most potent of them all.

“Perhaps even before this Cell he seems to be training for,” Mara thought. The advantage to being held captive in a lab was that she heard a lot of the idle chit chat that went on. Increasingly, she was being treated like a lab rat, which was fitting given that was what she was.

Mara hated it, the experiments performed on her were mostly humane, save for the fact that she had no choice but to be a participant. What really burned under her skin was the fact that Molotov was testing out experimental drugs to counter mutation on her. By the end of these experiments, Mara would be powerless. “Powerless against Molotov,” she thought. “What will he do to me then?”

However, she had little to fear on that front. Molotov was no longer vengeful. Mara wished he was, but she knew it was unlikely. Molotov was too clear headed. Vengeance was in many ways a disease, but it was not contagious. She could tell Molotov had trapped her not out of a sense of revenge but of necessity by the fact that he’d left a note in her cage. It was a short note, fairly polite, and offered her a good deal more information than he would have been obligated to share. The added information may have suggested a hint of arrogance, but Mara didn’t mind.

Somehow, someway, she was going to break out. Then, she would have her revenge.

[Molotov]

Dear Mara Jade,

I am glad you like my work. It is a bit surprising that you take such an interest in it. Finding sponsors for me has been particularly difficult. However, as flattered as I am by your interest in what I did in Rockford, I don’t want you coming any closer to my mutagens. You have been a menace, mostly a minor one, but I couldn’t afford to have you sneaking around me any longer.

As you probably know by now, I have developed new serums. Some of them are so bloody powerful, that a clever owner might be able to rule the world. That was never my intention. I gave up on that with Gisela, where I learned, just as you did, that it was a futile effort to control the world. However, instead of redirecting your better desires like I did, Mara, you decided to give in to your hate. You are angry and bitter, and that’s why you’re going to be locked away while I am free.

I don’t hate you, and mostly feel sorry for you. Still love, this is the best that I can do. Perhaps once your mutations have been wiped out, you’ll know why I did this all.

It took some soul searching, but I know now the flaw in mutagens is not because it gives so much power so quickly. That is a dangerous thing, but it’s what mutants make of it. The problem is that I gave the mutagen to children. Children who didn’t know enough suffering and were far too idealistic. Ideals are often good, but they’re bloody terrible if they come without compromise. Within those who know compromise, power is best in the hands of the idealistic.

That’s why you scare me Mara. You seem to have no ideals left but lining your pockets with gold. You probably deserve it more than most of the wankers out there, but you don’t care about how you get it. That bothers me Mara.

Jennie is here. It is far too complicated to explain how she got here, and I’ll let her tell you the story if you really want to hear it. She knows you better than I do, so I wouldn’t try to do anything particularly clever. I’ve made sure everyone knows how the poison mutation has effected you. You’re going to be here for a while, so I would make the best of it. The lab is working on some things to help you.

Regards,

Molotov

The letter angered Mara. Yet she read it every day. “Of all the self righteous drivel,” she muttered out loud. She especially took umbrage at the way Molotov talked about the Gisela Open, as if every last Mutant Misfit that died could be written off by him as a childhood mistake. “Such arrogance,” she thought angrily.

Still she continued to read the letter. Not only was it the only source of information that Mara had on her nemesis, but it kept her angry. Being trapped in a specially made cage gave her few opportunities to maintain her spirits, and a sense of vengeance was one of the only emotions she could cultivate.

As infuriating as Molotov’s note was, reading it was better than feeling numb.

[Workout Wonder]

Fieldeth-san,

We thank you for your payments. They have always been generous and timely, and we have come to rely on them. We wish you good health and fortune. I apologize that Molotov has not written to you, and that I must write in his stead. However, our work continues in his absence. We have identified two new mutagens according to his specifics, including the shapeshifting and poison mutagens that have escaped us for so long. We have also identified how mutagens manage to appear randomly in nature, and which types of mutagens will not emerge artificially.

As for your project, we have had limited success. A theoretical limb has been constructed, but we have little knowledge about the mutations necessary to make it graft onto you. An unrelated stroke of good fortune may have altered the priorities of some of our scientists, but we hope that the work on Project Jade will not make the preparation of your limb any less expedient. Molotov has is reservations on the theory behind our last design, so we are approaching with caution.

Best respects,

Sami Noreiyuki

Kedx Fieldeth was not amused. He had invested far too much of his money into Molotov’s genetic research for them not to find results. The vampire was surprised at first that they had been willing to take his funding. Molotov had turned down quite a few offers for patronage before. The vampire thought it was his appearance as a neko-jin that had earned him credibility. Unlike the other funders, most of the monks had considered him to be a native son. The fact that Kedx had spoken little of their language had failed to disappoint them.

For the most part, the vampire had been content to leave the science to people like Molotov and the monks at the monastery. However, the recent progress report he had received was unsatisfactory. He was displeased, and that meant that his bosses would undoubtedly be displeased. Kedx was going to have to remind them that his funding didn’t come out of some perverse desire for charity, but because he intended to see results. Kedx had only agreed not to take samples of the existing serums in exchange for a completely repaired arm. The fact that a new project called Jade had taken up valuable research time was completely unacceptable. As Kedx reread the missive he received, he could barely believe the arrogance of the lead researcher.

“And they tell me now Molotov isn’t even there,” he thought angrily. Kedx had hoped that he’d get his hand back by the Cell. Now, that seemed quite unlikely. He had no intention of tolerating it. Soon, he would be at the monastery, and he would take care of business there.

[Molotov]

Mara Jade didn’t quite know why everyone seemed to be particularly agitated lately, but the tension in the lab was quite unseemly for a monastery. Mara reveled in it, to see her captors running around the place like rats in a maze, it almost felt like their positions had been reversed with hers. Everything was so particularly brisk, they had even forgotten to take blood samples from Mara. “They’ll probably forget to feed me too,” she realized. It wasn’t too bad a price, the shapeshifter would have gradually sacrificed a days rations if it meant she could go without the incessant prods and pokes with hypodermic needles. They had taken a great number of samples, all to see if Mara’s genome had reverted back to what it had been before the poison mutation.

However, Mara was fortunate this day. Despite the hurried atmosphere, Jennie Stormer had remembered that Mara needed to eat. She brought a more simple plate than usual, this one consisting of nothing more than steamed rice and a banana, but it was better than Mara had expected. Jennie was too kind.

Mara watched now as Jennie used the little contraption that had been rigged up to feed her. Molotov had been particularly concerned about Mara using food as an opportunity to unleash her poisons on the lab. As such, he had installed a special box in the wall, one with air tight seals both on Mara’s side, and in the outside to the lab. Whenever the box was opened on the lab side, Mara’s side would suddenly be electrified at a fatal level. However, even before it could be open, Jennie needed to complete an initial scan of toxins in the air.

“Seems to check out,” the blonde declared.

Mara smiled snidely. “You’ve already died once, what should it bother you?” Mara really wasn’t sure where all her rage towards Jennie had come from. Jennie had been one of the nicest people to her during the Gisela campaign, and even here in the lab she had been quite kind. However, Mara couldn’t get over the thought that not only had Jennie forgiven Molotov, but that Jennie had sided with Molotov over her. “She even helped get me here…” Mara thought bitterly.

However, Mara still had a need for conversation. Her days were particularly dull without it, and Jennie seemed to be the only person in Shanleh who was even remotely concerned with treating Mara a captive humanely. Thus, she hoped her sarcasm wouldn’t drive Jennie away.

Mara was lucky. It didn’t. Jennie merely blinked in sadness and looked up at Mara like a long lost friend. “I thought you’d be happy to see me, even under the circumstances,” Jennie said. She then shrugged. “I suppose I thought wrong.”

That sent Mara into a wave of desperation. “Jennie no!” the former Misfit managed. “Jennie, I’m glad to see you, just under this circumstance…”

Jennie sighed and took a piece of paper out from her pocket. “Molotov wanted me to give this to you when he thought you were ready…” she said. “But I suppose I’ll just give it to you now…”

With that, Jennie left and turned off the lights. It would only be come morning that Mara could read the letter. In the meantime, the elusive shapeshifter would have to make herself content eating in the dark and pondering the mystery of the letter.

“Never thought you’d be so cruel Jennie… not you…” Mara rued.

[Molotov]

A few hours past midnight, it occurred to Mara that she could still read the letter. All she would have to do was adjust her eyes so that they functioned with less light. For a shapeshifter, that was an elementary transformation, requisite in so many lizardian and serpentine shapes that were almost essential in her routines.

Thus, she felt a little foolish as she adjusted her vision and dug out the letter that Molotov had written for her. Carefully, she unfolded the paper, her hands seeming that much more clumsy the more anxious that she got. Mara didn’t know what the paper contained, but if it explained how Jennie had come back to life, then the shapeshifter desperately wanted to know of it. Already, she envisioned resurrecting the rest of the Mutant Misfits that hated Molotov from Gisela; Jeremiah Frost, Will Moore and the entire battalion of disfigured mutants that Molotov had just let die. Once she escaped this cage, she would revive them, take over the lab and make Molotov pay. With an army, it would be that much easier for her to collect her reparations.

Finally, Mara got the paper open. Like a hungry diner with a voracious appetite, she moved on to her note.


Mara,

You’re probably wondering about Jennie now, how she got here, why she’s with me and all of that stuff. No doubt you’ve looked through my books (or the ones you could find) trying to figure out how I brought back the dead. The fact is, I didn’t. It was done by a creature named Onyx Callico during an adventure we had in Salvar. We had stolen an ice shield from the forgotten ones, and for some odd reason, Callico took this as reason to vomit up Jennie’s soul. Now she exists as a ghost, corporeal enough to function in our world, though I’m not exactly sure if she’s real. Not that it matters anyways… none of us are real since the mutations.

Jennie may have wanted to tell you this herself, but I’m not sure what she thinks of you anymore. She’s different from the Jennie you knew, no longer dying, no longer affected by my serums. She’s happier now without you. She didn’t want you here, and she’ll probably be happier when you’re gone.

You’re cursed with my old curse Mara Jade. Everything you touch turns to ashes, and you won’t be able to fix it as long as the mutation is within you. You’re too stubborn with it, you think it entitles you. It doesn’t.

I suppose somewhere in here, you probably expect an apology. Thing is, you aren’t getting one. For all the bloody people out there who I’ve wronged somewhere, I never really did wrong you. You were the one who joined my army, and you’re the one that stole my serums. That’s why I’m never apologizing to you. There were mistakes made in the past, but if we want a better future, I’d just as soon bury those mistakes. Mine and yours.

Molotov

This letter was considerably less formal than the other. The last bit about the apology seemed more like an addendum to the previous letter than something that belonged here. “Or perhaps its some kind of message about how he wants me to treat Jennie,” Mara wondered. Anyways, the note was a huge disappointment. If what Molotov said was true, though she had no certainty that it was, then there was no resurrection serum.

Reading the note had been nothing more than a waste of time.

[Workout Wonder]

Kedx arrived at the monastery and seemed less than impressed. It seemed almost criminal that a research project of such importance would be held in a place that seemed so utterly antiquated and out of touch with reality. Instead of the smells of Alerar’s industry or Corone’s business district, the only things that Kedx smelled in the Shanleh air were rice noodles and incense. “This better be worth my while,” he thought grimly as he made his way towards the laboratory. A pair of monks had directed him, and after what was an overly elaborate show of gratitude, they had offered him an embarrassing cornucopia of herbs to dull the pain of his severed limb.

Naturally, Kedx had refused them all. His injury represented weakness, a weakness that he didn’t want to show. As the financier of the research, he had always fancied himself in a position of power. Even Molotov himself had been willing to offer a few polite words every now and then. His severed limb represented the exact opposite. It was a failure on his part, and Kedx hated to be reminded of it. That was why he had been financing Molotov’s research, it represented his best and only chance at some kind of revitalization.

When he had found Molotov had left the project temporarily, it was a pure slap in the face. To hear his own aspect of the project was being held in abeyance due to a recent development was just all the more insulting. Someone needed to make sure the people in the lab remembered who supplied them. That was why Kedx was there.

However, when he got to the lab, he found nobody. There were vials, test tubes, small burners and many multicolored liquids, but not a single person anywhere.

“Hello?” Kedx called out irritably. He kept his ears open attentively, but got no answer. “Hello?” he called out again.

This time, there was a rustle.

This caught Kedx by alarm, because he saw no one. He turned behind him, and no one had entered. Wishing that he still had his pistol, the vampire began to survey the room more cautiously. All the walls seemed solid stone, save for a portion that had been covered by a linen curtain. “Quite suspicious,” Kedx thought. He reached for his sword and moved towards the curtain cautiously. The rustling sounds were getting louder, only now they were beginning to sound more like a muffled beating, as if someone was on the other side of a sound proof cage.

Kedx’ curiosity was piqued. He thought back to the mention of a new Project Jade. The vampire had paid little attention to the name earlier, but now he couldn’t help but to notice that Jade was in fact a woman’s name. A smile appeared on his lips. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a dirty little secret,” he said out loud as he pulled the curtain away violently.

And there, confirming his suspicions stood a woman banging impassionedly against the glass. “Help me…” she mouthed.

[Molotov]

Mara had no idea what to make of this stranger before her. He looked nothing like a rescuer, or even one that might be capable of such an action. This man who had somehow stumbled into the lab had feline traits, but also seemed different from most of the cat people on Shanleh. Instead of bright wide eyes and a smile, this one seemed hollow and tired.

“And he’s even lost an arm…” Mara noticed. She didn’t say anything, sound was barred. Unless someone was to open up her food slot, there was no way that she could have any kind of communication. The shapeshifter thus waited, curious how long it would take this stranger to figure this fact out.

After fifteen minutes, she lost her patience. She began to pantomime the actions. It took another five minutes before the feline understood her. Finally, they were able to have conversation, and the trouble that it took getting to this point made Mara a bit more attentive than she might have normally been to a stranger for whom she had no plans for.

“Good you finally figured it out,” she quipped dryly. “I’ll skip the obvious question first by answering it. Yes, I’m kept in prison here, and yes I would reward you any way you want if you got me free…”

The feline’s response particularly surprised Mara. “Don’t know if you’re of any use,” he said bluntly. “So why would I want to rescue you.”

Mara blinked. “Do you like Molotov?” she asked.

“He has his uses,” the feline replied.

Mara didn’t miss a beat. “I have more.”

There was a pause before the feline replied.

“Well then, since you have more uses, tell me how he’s locked you in this cage.”

That struck a nerve. Mara shuddered reflexively before replying. “Because he got lucky,” she said angrily. She took a deep breath, contemplating whether or not she should create some kind of a ruse that would let her poison this annoying creature. Yet, she refrained, because he seemed like her best hope of escape. He was the first person she’d seen in a long time whose loyalties to Molotov seemed uncertain. With no other plan, it was truly a sellers market for the captured shapeshifter.

Knowing she’d have to change her tone, Mara swallowed a bit of her pride as she continued. “Well look…” she said. “this isn’t really fun for me in here, but trust me, you’ll find out how useful I am soon enough…”

The feline smirked. “Are you project Jade?”

Mara nodded. “I’d assume so. That is my surname.”

“Kedx Feildeth,” the feline said, introducing himself. “I suppose then there are deals that can be reached.”

Mara smiled.

[Workout Wonder]

Kedx had been a bit surprised by the girl. It was clear just from her demeanor that she had deserved to be locked up. Any little bit of sympathy she may have accrued through the direness of her plight was quickly washed away by her attitude. However, the feline vampire had been particularly clever in his responses. He’d given nothing away, and even his pledge to help was cryptic. Kedx didn’t doubt for a moment that this Jade was a mutant, and that her powers were likely to be quite dangerous when released. Until he knew more information, he had no intention of letting her go free.

“If there is anything you need, please let me know,” the vampire said. With that, he shut the food slot and drew the curtains back. He then sat down at one of the lab’s benches and waited impatiently for someone else to arrive.

Eventually a messenger arrived. Kedx could tell that it was no one important from just a mere look at the boy. The messenger was a native child, and seemed to glance furtively at all the beakers and liquids as if looking at them too long would anger some kind of invisible spirits.

“Can I help you?” the vampire asked coldly.

The boy gulped. It was clear his tradespeak wasn’t particularly good. He stumbled through a few words that were either gibberish or his native tongue before putting the paper on one of the lab tables and leaving. Kedx grinned. He had thought that he’d caught the word “Molotov-san” somewhere in there. This was either a letter for, or from Molotov. Either way, the vampire doubted he would have been wanted to have read it under most normal circumstances.

That just made him all the more eager to read.


Noreiyuki-sensei, Jennie,

I’m not really happy as I’m writing this. I was training for the Cell, but then I heard rumors about an insurrection in Vainta. I went to help, thinking that I had really put the Gisela Open behind me. I thought that all the training I’d done here and all the talks I’ve had with you were going to mean something. They didn’t. In battle, I froze, I lost men, went on crazy suicide missions and was ultimately unsuccessful. The only difference now is its Haidia and not the Misfits paying for it.

I just feel so numb, but I’m going to have to compete in the Cell anyways… If Mara doesn’t come to the lab, I’m going to have to bloody draw her out somehow. There are also too many bloody nobles I’m going to have to get off my back before I can work on anything in peace. Thing is, I’m starting to wonder just how much I bloody care. I’m beginning to think sometimes that because I’m so far from perfect, nothing I’ve ever done matters all that much anyways. Not that anything anyone’s done ever mattered, least of all me.

I could use some good news, so if you have any, please send letters to the Broke-thorn inn. I’ve registered as Jay Bentley, so that’d be who you’d want to send it to. In the interim, I’ll be surviving, because that’s what people like me do. We bloody survive, whether or not that’s a good thing or not is a matter of opinion.

Hopefully the Cell goes better. I'm just so damned sorry about all the bollocks with Gisela.

With love and respect,

Molotov