The Aldric Anomaly

On the land of Concordia—humanity's only livable continent of the age—only one stood on the fine genetic line between man and humanoid reptile.

It was a bizarre world, a world of scientific marvels, new regions of land manufactured by ancestors, and of course, the threat of the reptilian humanoids that seemed to dominate every outlet of media. Far gone were the days of physical continents, gigantic individual countries, and the normality of oceanic travel. These days, Concordia was the only mass of land livable for humans, an expansive continent severed into several sections of cultural preservation—the American Colony, the British Empire, the United European Union, the Eastern Regime, and more. Many years had gone by since the reptilians revealed themselves to the world, woken by the polar shift that left the rest of the world devastated in its wake—every human stronghold, despite their issues with one another, had one common goal.

To repel the reptilian invaders that now threatened their great Concordia.

This motivation drove Aldric's father, much like it did everyone else in the British Military. Aldric's father was of high import in Cevron City, a brilliant genetic scientist working on various bioweapons and modifications in order to fight against the reptilian scourge. Alexander—Aldric's father—was a smart and quick-witted sort, someone who never bothered to weigh his mind down with the monotony of social graces. His brain was positively cluttered with science and all the possibilities attached, and he showed little care for anything else in the world—aside from his son, of course.

In fact, Alexander spent many of his workdays preaching to Aldric about the importance of science, progress, and using their superior intellect to diminish the reptilian threat in society. Today was one of those days; Aldric sat lazily on one of the many countertops inside his father's spacious workplace, a massive room on one of the top floors of the BMH in Cevron City—the British Military Headquarters. The room was extremely spacious with a tall ceiling, and thankfully so, as Alexander had hundreds of items all around—shelves of glass jars and beakers containing questionable substances, liquids, and samples of reptilian DNA, as well as experimental schematics for new weaponry and other old-world items of good use, like microscopes and such. Each time Aldric visited his father at work, he would spend his time wandering about out of boredom, examining the various containers of strange liquid and sighing heavily. When he was younger, he found it all fascinating—but nowadays, he was quite used to seeing it all, almost bored by it. The wall facing the sparkling capital city was made entirely of glass, giving both of them a spectacular view, though Alexander rarely paid mind to it, as he was always focused on his work. The countertop was elongated like a bar, and Aldric lay sprawled over it, his arms folded behind his head while his father fidgeted with a microscope two shelves away. The shelves containing all the bizarre scientific samples were tall and metal, every liquid, tissue, beaker, and jar on clear display like always. Aldric rolled his head to the side, just able to see his father's head between the jars and beakers. Both of them had a similar build—slender with somewhat narrow faces, though Alexander was visibly aged compared to his son. While Aldric had no wrinkles on his face, his stringy fohawk still a dark brown, his father's hair had faded into a sandier color over the years, invaded by graying streaks, his visage marked with laugh lines and clearly careworn. Another stark contrast between the two of them was their attire, Aldric was wearing a dark casual outfit—a navy blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as well as a pair of black pants—and Alexander was dressed in his white scientist getup, complete with an odd pair of goggles covering his eyes.

"Oy," Aldric called out after nearly half an hour of silence. "Whatcha doing?"

Alexander didn't reply right away. He stepped away from the microscope, scribbled down a few quick notes on his clipboard, then stepped around the shelves and approached his son.

"I did try to explain it to ya' an hour ago," Alexander snarked with a smirk. "And all you had to say in response was something about lunch."

"Which you never answered," Aldric laughed. "I asked if I could order some food…"

"Go downstairs to the cafeteria," Alexander instructed.

"Uuugh… but I'm sick of their food," Aldric complained, scrunching up his face and sitting fully upright. "Why can't I order a foldover?"

"Oy—here's a fun fact," Alexander grinned. "Did you know foldovers used to be called calzones? Back in the day—"

"I don't 𝘤𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘦," Aldric sighed, running hands down his face. "Can I order one or not?"

"You know the answer to that," Alexander said, sauntering away and collecting his clipboard. "They wouldn't let any fast-food delivery boys into this building even if it 𝘸𝘢𝘴 a good idea to eat lunch inside a room full of experimental materials."

Aldric groaned and tossed his head back, glancing at the gigantic windows and staring into the city for a moment. When he faced his father again, Alexander was standing just beside him, placing the clipboard on the counter and sighing deeply.

"Did they ever finish that freaky laser rifle thing you were working on?" Aldric wondered.

"Sort of," Alexander sighed, sinking into the nearest chair, as he was clearly ready to take a break from his work. "They developed the prototype of the laser rifle, but they haven't taken it any farther yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a geneticist, not a mechanical engineer. They're probably wary of testing a weapon invented by someone who doesn't specialize in that particular field."

"That's dumb."

"Maybe, but it's not my call."

"If they ever get those laser rifles into mass production, you better get me one for Christmas."

Alexander cocked his head, peeling the goggles from his eyes and giving his son a long, thoughtful stare.

Aldric narrowed his eyes. "What…?"

"You'd have all the military's toys to play with if you joined the BM," Alexander smirked.

Aldric moaned out a sigh. "Ugh, with this again… I don't wanna join the military."

"Why not?" Alexander asked curiously. "Ever since you were little, all you talked about was making a difference somehow—"

"Right, but not in the military," Aldric said flatly, raising his brows and planting his finger to the countertop. "Not that way."

"𝘐'𝘮 part of this military," Alexander stated. "What's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing—it works for you just fine," Aldric told him, rolling his neck and lying backward over the counter again. "I just don't think it'd work for me. Too many rules."

"You can't just become a vigilante," Alexander told him. "That's not realistic."

Aldric turned his head, scoffing out a laugh. "Not realistic? We live in a world full of reptoid terrorists bombing random places in every major city—"

"And there're precious few superheroes doing anything about it," Alexander pointed out. "Which is what makes the military necessary."

Aldric folded his arms over his chest, gazing into the ceiling and wearing a conflicted expression. After a moment of thought, he spoke again.

"It just seems kinda… one-sided," he murmured. "You see it on the news, and in the papers… and it's all about how the reptilians are evil. But, technically… the reptilians were on this planet even longer than us. They've just been underground forever. When they finally resurfaced, and they found out that most of their world was destroyed… so... well… it's kinda natural for them to be mad, right?"

"Perhaps," Alexander said with a sideways nod. "But that doesn't excuse the shootings and bombings. Those are acts of terrorism, plain and simple."

"I know that, Pop," Aldric sighed. "But none of our militaries really distinguish between peaceful reptilians and extremist ones all that well. That's why I like the idea of doing things outside the rules… so I wouldn't have to kill 'em all on sight. God knows humanity's done that among themselves a million and one times. We oughta learn our lesson at some point…"

"I get it… believe me, I do," Alexander conceded. "But this is the best we can realistically do."

The two of them were silent for a moment.

"What is it you're working on today…?" Aldric muttered seconds later.

Alexander leaned back in his chair, releasing a cloud of breath. "Well… it's essentially… a combination of Project Alpha and the new substance we got a few weeks ago. I discovered I can combine the two, although… I'm unsure what the end result will be."

"So you're just throwing it together and seeing what happens," Aldric surmised, cracking a half-smile.

Alexander returned his snarky smirk. "Basically. It's not exactly orders from above, but… what can I say? I'm curious. Project Alpha was a mutant form of reptilian DNA, and the new substance turned out to be slightly radioactive and otherwise tampered with in ways I won't bother explaining, which lends itself to the possibility of further mutation. The two are mixing together as we speak, and I've been examining the leftovers…"

"What exactly is the new substance…?"

"It would take me forever to explain, like I said…"

"M'kay. What're you planning to do with the mutant DNA once it's done mixing together?"

"No idea. I dunno what it's gonna turn into. But hey—be nice to discover a new thing, wouldn't it? It might turn out to be useful. Maybe it'll make people more resilient. Or, maybe it'll be a toxic poison to us all. God knows."

"That ah… that sounds promising."

Alexander laughed. "Reptilians are fascinating. They are exactly what we would be if we took a coldblooded turn somewhere along our evolutionary lines. Not to mention, their scaly skin is more resistant to gunfire—so that'd be a nice thing to replicate, now wouldn't it?"

"That's a bit idealistic, Pop."

"Maybe so, but we know so little about their DNA. There's a lot to discover."

"You really think you're gonna invent some magical compound that can give humans new abilities? And you say 𝘐'𝘮 unrealistic…"

"It's possible, Aldric. Maybe not probable, but possible."

"There are some reptilians with venomous fangs, y'know that?"

"Of course I do."

"Well… what if your new substance ends up making humans grow poison fangs?"

Alexander chuckled and shook his head. "Poison and venom are two different things. Poison is any toxicity that can be ingested or absorbed, but venom specifically refers to a toxicity that comes from a bite—"

"Stop turning everything into a bloody lesson," Aldric whined, snickering and cradling his skull. "God 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥 me, my head hurts…"

"Aldric," Alexander said, a tone of seriousness in his voice now. He slowly stood, his eyes fixating on his son's. "You are so brilliant. Your IQ is bordering genius, and you've got a heart of gold. You'd do a world of good here… if you could just get past your aloof-as-ever attitude."

The two shared an intense stare, Aldric feeling suddenly spotlighted.

He'd had this conversation with his father many times before, but he'd never grown accustomed to this feeling of pressure that always arose—the unsettling sense of obligation, as if his father insistently expected him to follow in his footsteps. Aldric always entertained the notion of joining the causes of humanity and making a real difference, but just as he'd told his father, he hadn't yet found a way of doing so that he felt comfortable with. So, naturally—just like all the times he spoke to his father about this in the past—Aldric could think of no real response.

In this moment—a moment that had occurred between the two of them numerous times before, inside the spacious enclosure of Alexander's workplace—Aldric felt a deep sense of dread, inhaling a heavy breath and wondering why such a feeling had strangely dawned upon him. So many times, he talked to his father about this—and so many days, he'd spent in his father's workplace. There was nothing new about this moment, nothing dreadful or alarming, nothing that should warrant such a bizarre sense of doom.

This conversation, this environment, this routine—it was completely commonplace to him, the unchanging normality of Aldric's relatively ordinary life.

But then, something happened that would shatter the routine forever.

A blaring alarm sounded above their heads, echoing throughout the room and grasping their attention. Aldric wore a confused face and covered his ears, but Alexander appeared to be utterly mortified, gazing up at the intercom in absolute horror.

Just when Aldric opened his mouth to ask about the awful noise, something else happened that froze him to silence.

The floor gave a slight tremor—as did the walls, and all the metal shelves containing Alexander's many experiments.

Aldric gulped, his heart beginning to pound.

Alexander wheeled around and glanced at his shelves, then faced his son again. Before he could speak, a voice began speaking over the intercom system, merging with the deafening emergency siren that was wailing throughout the entire BMH building. The voice was girlish and robotic, and it repeated two words on repeat.

"EMERGENCY EVACUATION. EMERGENCY EVACUATION."

The floor gave another shake—this time much harder, making one of the jars fall to the floor and shatter. A distant booming noise echoed from somewhere outside, and Aldric and Alexander exchanged frantic glances, their heads going light as their hearts raced.

Their eyes locked onto the glass wall—spotting the source of the urgency.

A monstrous burst of fire had erupted two blocks away, decimating every building nearby as a wicked mound of dust and debris arose rapidly from the source of the explosion, the quick billowing mounds sweeping up and outward—engulfing everything in sight—approaching the BMH building at an alarming rate—

Alexander realized the severity of the situation much too late; there was a bombing happening in the heart of Cevron City, and the BMH building was directly in the blast zone.

Aldric's body went rigid, steeped in sheer shock as he watched the decimation pummel toward him—rocketing forward and shattering numerous windows—

Alexander dove over Aldric, shielding and tackling his son just when the blast collided with the building—the windows exploding—every jar and beaker shattering instantly.

Aldric's arms were outstretched, unprotected from his father's heroic move—the glass slicing his arms up and down as the two of them hit the floor with the force of a cannon ball. Dust and hot air filled the room as all of Alexander's work was thrown about—many items smashing into the wall behind the father and son—liquids and strange substances splattering across the walls and floor.

Aldric didn't feel the liquid splashing onto him—his eyes snapped shut, his mind blank and his body primed with adrenaline as his father lay motionless overtop of him.

Eventually—after many offices and workrooms were destroyed, and after the explosion had ended—a grim, awful silence loomed over the decimated aftermath of the attack, and Aldric fell victim to his shock, the world fading black as he lay sprawled beneath his deathly still father, his arms bleeding profusely and burning from the liquids that had seeped into his wounds.

As the shock and pain set in, his consciousness abandoned him entirely, and he knew no more.