An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Posted a new chapter during nano because I needed a break. Full chapter at the link above.
Note: Strong language (generally the story is intended for mature audiences.)
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The scientific world did not miss Baxter Stockman. The point reiterated every time a former colleague was brought into his lab. His removal from the scientific community was not even worth mentioning in print or television, nothing on social media. But whenever the masked Foot soldiers ushered another down to his lab and saw him every single one said the same thing with the same disappointed tone.
“Baxter Stockman, I thought you died in the explosion at TCRI.”
Lab, that word was an exaggeration now. His small den in whichever abandoned building they occupied. He rarely had a window or saw the outside world. He was lucky to know the date and then only thanks to his computer. If he wasn’t staring at a computer screen, simulation, or lab tests it was the sea of black with the silent Foot soldiers. But still he was free, or at least more free than any scientist and doctor he beckoned for. That was something.
Well, these guys started off antagonistic. Quickly followed by becoming cooperative and even slightly enthusiastic. Finally, the most annoying of them were silent at the end.
“Dr. Singh, how have you been since the Army ostracized you? I heard you had every government fund pulled from every single one of your projects.” The best part of being in his position came next. Each of these colleagues, associates, formerly cutting edge scientists not having a word to say back to him. “Those who can’t do, teach. And you can’t even do that, can you?”
Singh had nowhere to go. His only exit barricaded by Foot soldiers, he tentatively stepped further into the room.
“Why am I here, Stockman? What have you gotten mixed up in?” They all flung accusations at Stockman before he started working for the Foot. Several of these so-called scientists calling his work unethical. Unethical, ha! He got the job done and made more advancements than any of them!
Stockman slid a file across the small table, his table. This was his lab, after all. Singh didn’t want any part of this and refused the folder until the realization dawned on how limited his options were. “I would read it, Singh. It’s that or them.” Stockman’s steepled fingers jutted toward the door and the soldiers.
