THE WEREWOLF PROJECT Jon Hartless One year ago, Lady Roslyn Foxington and Tamara Kelly, a working-class steamship courier, stumbled on a secret project to scientifically augment men into vampiric creatures. Though they survived an all-out assault by the creatures and their creator, Doctor Mortimer, they knew it was far from over. Now Mortimer desires revenge and he has a new experiment lurking in the dark, waiting just for them.
Dark Alley Press
CHAPTER ONE Inside a secret laboratory lit by spluttering gas flames that barely illuminated the dank interior, three figures studied a hybrid creature fastened to the central operating table. Scalpels and surgical saws were piled in a dirty heap on a wheeled trolley next to the table. Above, the more sophisticated machinery — electronic probes, scanners, DNA modifiers, and even a Mark IV Babbage Analysis Machine — stood quiet, all splattered with dark blood, their work done. “Is it ready?” demanded the tallest of the men. His eyes burned in the darkness with fanatical determination. “It is, Doctor Mortimer, though again I must warn you that this specimen is very unstable and primitive,” said the small man with the chunky glasses and wiry, ginger hair. “Will it be able to perform its task? I want this to succeed, Algernon.” “Well, the exoskeletons on these prototypes have all proved to be a weak point,” replied Algernon, polishing his glasses thoughtfully. “Will it transform, Algernon?” demanded Mortimer, impatiently. “As long as the system receives no shocks, as long as no external factors interfere, then yes, it will transform, successfully and completely.” “Excellent,” grinned Mortimer, his face twisted in success and hatred. “More than enough to deal with one girl.” “What of subject 912?” asked Algernon. “He has exceeded all our expectations. The DNA has been stabilised by the use of heat therapy on the genes, and the Support Coils have been successfully
implemented under the skin, into the very bone itself, unlike our primitive specimen here, so 912 can pass unnoticed by everyone. And given his location, it would make sense to use him.” “912 is under the direct control of the board, as are all the perfected lycanthropes,” explained Blackwood, the third man, to Algernon. “We cannot use any of them without the board’s knowledge or consent. That’s why we have been using these lower laboratories and the earlier, unstable lycan prototypes.” “So this experiment has not been authorised by the board of directors?” interrupted Algernon, simply seeking — as ever — exact information. “The board does not need to know,” snapped Mortimer in reply. “It is done on my authority. That is all the authority you need, Algernon.” “But why the secrecy from the board?” asked Algernon in puzzlement, his eyes bulging behind his thick glasses. He was, in a strange way, an innocent in the ways of the world. “If Tamara Kelly and Lady Foxington are a danger to the experiment, surely they need to be dealt with?” “The board feels that as the women know nothing of consequence and can prove nothing; they are not a threat,” explained Mortimer, indignantly. “I, however, disagree with that. They know of my identity and that I am connected to the Vampire Project. For that reason alone, they should be eliminated.” He didn’t add that he burned to revenge himself on the two young women for disrupting his project and making him look a fool. It had become an obsession. “Which is why this unauthorised experiment had to be done down here in these older, unregulated laboratories,” repeated Blackwood, making sure Algernon understood clearly. “That did not make my task any easier,” complained Algernon. “The power needed to transmute the DNA is considerable.” “You had the back-up generators,” replied Blackwood. It was impossible to tell in the darkness if his face showed any impatience with Algernon. His voice merely hinted at it.
“It would have been better if I were allowed to tap into the main power grid,” said Algernon. “That would have given us all the power we needed.” “That would also draw attention,” snapped Blackwood. “We are secure down here, aren’t we, Blackwood?” interrupted Mortimer, suddenly looking worried. “We are, Doctor Mortimer,” replied Blackwood, gloating at the need for reassurance in Mortimer’s voice. After a year of strain, a year of brooding and hiding his activities from the board, the doctor was finally falling apart. “We must do nothing that could get back to the chief directors of the board,” said Mortimer, his voice shaking, his hatred of Lady Roslyn and Tamara Kelly balanced against his fear of the board, of losing his position and standing. He stared hungrily at the surgical table. This would help give him the power he craved and the revenge he yearned for. “No,” he continued. “We must remain anonymous. That is why I have decided on two separate lines of attack. We will use this specimen as no one will miss it. It can be easily released into the warehouse and the whole area can be sterilised afterwards. The other attack will be written off as a tragic, fatal mugging on the streets of London.” “In London?” asked Algernon, perplexed. Mortimer smiled, feeling pleased with himself. “Yes, Algernon. Even now, a seemingly random attack is about to take place on Lady Roslyn Foxington. With my men on the surface and this specimen in the warehouse, 912 will not be required.” “And what of the board?” asked Blackwood, turning the knife with quiet glee. He found the sight of Mortimer, caught between his desire for revenge and his fear of the board of directors, to be rather amusing. “The board will never know,” hissed Mortimer, his tone rising into hysteria. “I will destroy those females and all will be well!” “Yes sir,” replied Blackwood, keeping his voice passive. Inside, he grinned. Mortimer’s plan to release a lycanthrope into the
warehouse would surely end in disaster, and once the doctor had been removed, the board would be looking for a good man, who knew the project, to assume control. The future looked good for him, if not for Doctor Mortimer. Or Lady Roslyn and Tamara Kelly, added Blackwood as an afterthought.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jon Hartless is the author of several fantasy, sci-fi, and steampunk books, some written under the pen names Arabella Wyatt and Barnabas Corbin. His Vagabondage Press, LLC. titles include Jack the Theorist, a satire on the excesses of Ripperology, and two books (so far) in a young adult steampunk horror series that examines concepts such as cultural conditioning, the nature of rebellion, and the inequalities of society. His other concern with the series is to make vampires and werewolves scary again.
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