Genetic Wars 2121
“Return of the Wolf Man”
Based on Genetic Wars by Jonathan Coolidge and Thomas Weigel,
And Lycanthrope by Jonathan S. Coolidge
Additional characters based on concepts by Alicia Vogel and Heather Varley,
and the works of Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley

In a world devoid of color, a lone figure wandered through a dense forest of black and gray.  Overhead, a waxing half-moon guided him onward.  He swept his long hair aside, revealing a forward-sloping face.  Ahead, a colorless fortress appeared over a peak of rocky ground above the trees.  Beyond it appeared a sea of darkness, occasionally revealed to contain a chasm and a valley with mountains beyond, as flickering lightning transiently exposed the landscape.
A pair of massive iron doors guarded the entrance to the castle.  With an echoing rattle, the figure knocked via an affixed circular brass gargoyle.  Inside, footsteps quietly manouvered, followed by the rattling creak of chains as the doors reluctantly opened.
A gray-haired ancient figure with a broad moustache greeted the wanderer, holding up a small, hand-held lantern.  “May I help you?”
“My name is Jonathan Scott Gardener.  I have no knowledge of where I am or how I got here.  As strange as this sounds, I am even entertaining the thought that I am dead.”
The arcane figure smiled, evidently amused.  “If you are, then this old soul must confess a certain jealousy.”  His voice was surprisingly smooth and elegant.  “Please, do come in.  I am Vlad Dracula, Count of Wallachia.”

11.9 years earlier

A yellow-orange sun pierced the jagged peaks of the Freedom Mountains, illuminating a valley below.  A cluster of camps formed a small village, where a few more permanent structures were under construction.
“What do you think?”  A heavy-set, bearded man wearing red and white robes asked, pointing to a wooden sign, clumsily painted “Welcome to Christmas City.”
Ipanema sighed.  “It’s great that you want to share your neurosis with the rest of planet Utopia, but what about the Pagans?”
“Who do you think invented Christmas?  Everyone celebrates the Winter Solstice one way or another.”
“I’ll talk it over with Rhonda and Conus,” she muttered, walking over to a small black horse and climbing up a saddle.  The animal, a genetically modified variation of Arabian breeds, mumbled slightly, flicking his ears about.  Ipanema petted him and pulled out a handheld computer.  “Mental note: get together with council and hold emergency meeting on names to avoid.”  She shook the reins gently and her ride darted abruptly ahead.
As she bolted along, a large falcon swooped towards her.  The being landed in front of her, its legs stretching and elongating as the entity assumed an upright posture.  The wings retracted into arms, and the entity’s body shifted into a nearly human form.  “Mind if I borrow a towel or something?”
Ipanema stopped the horse and climbed down, handing Anderson Conus a blanket, which he wrapped around his waist.  “Is the back end of the Prometheus ready?”
“My ship will miss the extra weapons for a little while, but she’ll regrow them.  I’d hate to leave the colony unprotected.”
“Rescuing my brother will also be a perfect excuse to get some updates on what C.A.T. is up to.”
Ipanema’s horse bobbed his head as Conus tried to pet him.  However, he soon relaxed and let the man stroke his long, arched neck.  “We’re back to the basics,” Conus said.  “It’s going to be awhile before we can build a ship yard, let alone our own planetary defense fleet.”
Ipanema reached into a pouch, pulling out a sugar cube and feeding her mount.  “You of all people should understand thinking outside of the box.  Your son thinks he can engineer a sturdy material out of the local plant life.”

The L.S.S. Conus One floated in orbit next to an object resembling a four-pointed star.  The predominantly Cozalien engine of the Prometheus was being rebuilt, while the damaged haphazard assembly of modules comprising the rest of the ship were being dismantled.  The undamaged habitat ring drifted nearby as a separate space station, while other portions had already been sent to the planet surface to dismantle into parts for use by the colony below.
Ipanema sat to Anderson’s right on the control deck of Conus One, while the lycanthropic engineer and psionicist Xau Zolan took his familiar station.  The black werepanther Elvedea strolled over to the navigation console towards the front of the open deck, and overhead, the main viewer activated.  On each side of the deck towards the back, two new cylendrical 3D display columns had been installed.  They both flickered on to life.
On the far left facing front, Selena Hawthorne appeared.  Her image of restored youth established her as a moderately built blond-haired woman with a fondness for royal blue Renaissance-styled clothing.  On the other end, Elodea also took advantage of renewed vitality, wearing an aggressively sensual outfit of black leather and vinyl, as well as her characteristic circular loop hair.
Conus had replaced Ipanema’s blanket with a more formal attire and jacket, though he allowed gray feathers to replace his hair.  As he sat back, he stated, “Elvedea, set course for Earth.”
“Just like the old Sci Fi,” Ipanema commented.  “A space ship and a mission.”
Xau looked out at the scattered parts of the Prometheus.  “We’re leaving them with the preliminary makings of a ship yard.  It may not be able to handle interstellar flight anymore, but we left enough of it in place that its refit as a defense ship should buy time.”
Ipanema looked over at the disassembly project.  “You know that C.A.T. will show up sooner or later.  I just hope that Rhonda and Alex can hold the fort while we’re gone.  All in all, it’s going to be twenty five years.”
“Twenty five point four,” Xau responded from his station.  “That’s taking into account a twelve point seven light year journey at high gamma, but ignoring time spent in the Solar System, which could be considerable.”
Selena smirked.  “To blazes with your logic, you pointed-eared Therian!”
Xau wrinkled his brow and flicked his right ear.  “What brought that on?”
Conus One took a sharp turn, diving towards the Sun, visible within the constellation of Cassiopeia, and accellerated towards it.  Soon, the stars behind them had retreated in an arc, creating a largening black void behind them.  As the ship approached the speed of light, the stars ahead shifted from white to blue, and then to violet before disappearing from the visible spectrum as the universe appeared to wrap around and fold in on itself before the ship.
Xau looked out at the command deck crew.  “We can monitor the transmissions from Earth, but at this rate, it will be difficult to sort through the data, as we’ll be getting twelve years worth of feed in less than a week.”
“Selena and I can keep an eye out for major headlines,” Elodea answered.  “We’ve got a lot of unused processing power on this ship open to us.”  Her human-shaped holographic form faced forward as she downloaded the flood of media content beaming towards them.

Gardener made his way deeper into the catacombs of the castle, seeking out a humming noise and sniffing the air.  A strange mixture of electrical ozone and raw flesh emanated from below.  He took a torch, its gray and white light illuminating the colorless path downward.  At the base of the stone spiral, he came upon a large, open chamber filled with exotic old scientific equipment.  Wires sent impulses to vacuum tubes, while glass flasks bubbled gray and white vapors.  Near a complex apparatus of brass machinery, a man sorted frantically through his notes and sketches of human anatomy.
“Good evening, I’m Scott Gardener.”
The man got up from his desk and reached out with his hand to shake Scott’s.  “Frankenstein.  Dr. Victor Frankenstein.  I’ve been working on an extended project concerning tissue regeneration.”
Scott shook his hand and then sniffed around him.  “Have we met?  I don’t recognize you, but your name is very familiar.”
“I’m afraid I’ve developed quite a reputation.”  
Gardener looked over at his notes.  “Perhaps I can be of some help.  I’m a bit of a biologist myself.”
“I’d appreciate any help I could have.”  He began opening up other texts and clearing a nearby table, moving it over next to his desk.  “Unfortunately, the controversial nature of my work has driven off more than one associate…  I lost my beloved wife over this.”
“Conus and Elaine,” Gardener thought out loud, a vision of someone familiar flashed through his mind.  “An old friend of mine—he experimented with some advanced technology.  His wife left over it.”
“Please sit down,” the doctor said, clearing a work bench.  “Would you like something to drink?  The Count has offered me access to a fantastic collection of wine—he doesn’t even drink the stuff himself.”
Gardener inspected a stockpile of gadgets on the bench in front of him, sniffing them.  He reached for a pair of electrodes, abruptly dropped one, gasping.  He retracted his hand.  “Sorry; I didn’t realize that they were still hot.”
 “They shouldn’t be.”  The doctor looked back at him and then walked over, testing the metal rods with the back of his hand.  Then, he picked them up.  “See?  These silver rods are cold.”
Gardener reached out and started to take one, but the stinging burn happened again.  “I seem to be…sensitive to silver.”  He turned his back and looked at his hand, which briefly took on paw-like features.  Outside somewhere a wolf howled.  Gardener looked around nervously.  “As a matter of curiosity, I’ve also taken an interest in astronomy,” Gardener added, pretending to change the subject.  “I don’t suppose you would know what phase the moon is tonight?”
“Well, stargazing may be a bit difficult tonight.  It’s a full moon.  Perhaps you would prefer to stay here with me and Count Dracula.”
“Count Dracula…Count Dracula is a vampire,” Scott mumbled to himself.  “And, I’m a…”

The Count stood at the head of a long, formal dining table.  Though he placed for himself only a goblet of dark liquid, he had presented a hearty meal for both Gardener and the doctor.  Scott found the scent of Dracula’s drink disturbingly appetizing, as he knew it to be blood.  As the Count offered Gardener a section of roast, Scott responded, “forgive me.  I mean no offense, but I am vegitarian.”
The Count laughed.  “I find that hard to believe.”  He patted Scott’s shoulder almost affectionately.  “Maybe you would find it more pallatable if you hunted it yourself?”
Dr. Frankenstein courteously attempted to redirect the conversation.  “Mr. Gardener was just telling me this fascinating story about the Cozalien invasion—a story not unlike something by H.G. Wells.”
Gardener answered, “I would never be so presumptious as to compare my work to a master like Wells.  Influenced, perhaps.”
The doctor, after biting into his offering, answered, “never-the-less, the parallels are there.”
“Gentlemen,” Dracula interjected, “I would be most anxious to hear this story for myself some time, but I have a nobleman of high status I need to introduce, and it would be rude to keep him waiting.”
He walked over to a nearby bookcase and removed a book.  The case swung around to reveal a large, golden sarcophagus.  “Please do come closer.”  With some degree of effort, he lifted the great figure, to reveal a second golden coffin, bearing the unmistakably familiar portrait of a young Egyptian pharoah, no older than twenty but very regally and formally adorned.  The Count pulled open the mask and casing to reveal a figure, wrapped and shrouded.  The figure slowly arose as Dracula removed the wrappings to reveal a youthful brown man.  Doctor Frankenstein watched with great fascination, while Gardener shared in the sense of awe.  “Gentlemen, I give you his majesty, Pharoah Tutankhamen.”  The Count knelt down, adding, “In Egypt, he was considered a God.  Please extend him the courtesy of acknowledgement.”
Frankenstein bowed briefly, more as a formality than one of religious devotion.  None-the-less, he looked at the Pharoah with absolute fascination.
Gardener bowed.  As he looked back at the Pharoah, he noticed a nearby heiroglyphic depicting a pair of gods weighing a man’s heart against a feather.  A vision flashed in his mind; he found himself face-to-face with Anubis and Thoth, probing his mind and memories while scanning his heart with a featherlike device.
 “Thank you for your endorsements,” Tutankhamen answered.  “I understand that each of you seeks to know the secrets of life beyond death.  I know it to be a difficult journey, but I offer my guidance.”

Conus One continued decelerating as it approached Earth.  Most of the planets were stretched across the other end of the Sun, with only Pluto anywhere near the path to Earth.  The small twin-asteroid planet proved to remain unremarkable after 26 years.  Earth and the Moon, however, loomed ahead, and both Selena and Elodea had already detected a number of significant changes.  Though politics delayed deep space exploration, humans had colonized both Europa and Titan, establishing a presence deep into the outer Solar System.  Mars had grown from a simple cluster of outposts to two sizable cities, and the Lunar population was large enough to qualify as its own nation under C.A.T.’s united government.
“Active scans are looking for Cozalien energy signatures,” Zolan commented from his station.  They’ve intensified their scanning capabilities since 2096, but I think I can compensate and try to keep us from being detected.”  However, Zolan soon looked worried.  He brought an image of a probe orbiting the sun somewhere between Mars and Jupiter.  “I’m jamming its signal, but it might have spotted us.”
Elodea offered  from her projection cylinder, “Why not capture it?  Unless they’ve gotten a lot better at aiming their automated probes in the last few years, they should still be used to these things disappearing.  Remember how many probes got lost going to Mars alone over the years?”
A beam of light fired out from the ship, shining on the drifting instrument array and pulling it closer to Conus One’s triangular hull.  A pair of panels slid back on the underside of the ship, in front of the attachment site of its modular human-designed addition.  The probe floated through a force field, which in turn lead to an open cargo bay, along side numerous Cozalien-designed shuttle pods.

Gardener stood on the castle rooftop, gazing towards the graying sky and the setting sun.  Soon, the full moon would rise.  He was already hungry; the taste of blood and thought of human flesh had become extraordinarily appetizing.  He tried to shake the obsession, even as it grew within him.  Then, a strong presence approached.  It was the young Egyptian ruler Tutankhamen, dressed in ornate metallic cloth and wearing the headress of the combined Upper and Lower Kingdoms.  He carried with him a flail and crook, symbols of his status back home in some far away land.  “You seem troubled, my associate.”
“Forgive me, your Highness,” Gardener answered, “but, I may not be in the best of shape right now.  I am expecting something to happen to me, and I must go outside soon.”  He took a few deep breaths as he looked out a window to the forest below.  “I have met your gods Thoth and Anubis.”
 “Curious—my father would have had me believe the old gods were myth.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Gardener answered, clutching his left hand as tufts of fur began to enclose it.  “Your father—Ankhenaton?  Aton the one god?  Monotheism can be just as over-rated.”  He looked at his bloated fingertips as his fingernails twisted into claws.  “It shouldn’t be like this—full moons and silver bullets…those are old myths, and the Count and the doctor…characters from old novels.”
“This is not my world, either,” the young Pharoah responded.  “The land here is so much more rich and fertile, and yet I cannot find the life and vitality here that permeated my home along the Nile.  Perhaps we are between the worlds—perhaps we are in the transition realm between life and death.”

Xau twisted a screwdriver into another mechanical assembly of the captured satellite.  “It looks like they’ve solved the problems with biological neuron clusters and their high maintainance.”  He held up a panel of plastic plates holding translucent gel and complex shapes.  “Brilliant, actually.  It’s basically a miniature ecosystem of genetically modified bacteria, recycling the byproducts of the neural metabolism, using energy from a solar-powered…”
“That’s great,” Ipanema snapped back, “but what about the point of all this?”
“I’m going to need a little help from Selena or Elodea on this one.  I read a few articles on this stuff before the exodus, but these were just ideas back then.  They’ve introduced some new software protocols to utilize this stuff, and I’m having a hard time figuring it out.”
Ipanema picked up the cluster of gel plates and then looked down at the collection of parts, still transmitting wireless signals to each other.  “OK, satellite, can you teach Xau here how to work with twenty-second century technology?”
A small voice emanated from the assortment of components.  “I will be happy to locate a tutor program.”
Ipanema patted Zolan’s lupine head.  “When you’re done reinventing the laws of physics, we can play Frisbee.”
Elodea’s image, reflected on a nearby instrument panel, ducked down as if to get a closer look at the assembly.  “Can it handle older programs, like, say, me?”
“I imagine it would do so at a pretty phenomenal rate,” Xau answered back.  He reassembled a few parts, saying, “I’d like to connect to Internet Four.”  He then looked back at Elodea.  “I think I can get you in, but you’ll have to relearn how to hack the system.  What Shann and CyBRAIN have evolved into, I have no idea.”
Selena appeared on a larger screen at the front of the room.  “But, your remote viewing talents—can they crossover to the digital realm?”

Gardener ran further into the woods, panting as he looked towards a white light looming through cracks in the trees.  His face had already partially transformed, and pointed teeth had intruded into his mouth.  His feet were starting to become hindpaws, and a tail was tearing its way through his flesh, out his lower back.  The process had shredded his clothes, leaving rags that continued to fall off.
It hasn’t been like this since…since all those years ago.  He thought about how he first became lycanthropic.  He remembered seeing the full moon looming over him once before, seeing a figure approaching him.  At first he thought it was a large animal.  When it stood upright, he panicked, but he was too exhausted to resist.  The creature had cornered him.
But then, things changed.  He met that creature and grew to love her.
“Elodea!”  He called out.
Then, he discovered a village.  “No,” he mumbled.  “There must be other prey out here.”  But, it was too late.  In the clearing of the village edge, the circular white moon came into full view, even as people battened down doors and hatches to block out the things of the night—the things like Scott Gardener.  He felt the light of the moon burning through his skin, and he gasped and cried out as his lower face stretched into a beastial muzzle.
“The wolves!”  An older lady called out, guiding her grandchildren into a hut.  “We must hurry!”
The creature Scott had become crept closer towards them and their small sanctuary.  He could hear her councilling the children.
“Wild animals—all of them.  You must never catch yourself alone in the woods, especially on the night of the full moon.  The wolves are merciless monsters!”  Scott could hear her.  He could also hear his own thoughts.  He remembered that wolves were feral animals—no more, no less.  And they almost never attack humans—only out of desperation or disease.  Something had changed about his lycanthropy.  “And, you must be wary of any stranger whose eyebrows meet in the middle.”
The creature Scott lunged through a window, crashing into the house.  The two children screamed and ran, while the grandmother reached for a crucifix.  “Back to Hell, you monstrous demon…”  But, even as she gestured to protect herself, he pounced forward.  A splash of blood flew across Scott’s fur-covered body.

“I’m inside an advertisement,” Xau commented, fidgetting with open air while wearing a pair of virtual reality sensor patches and VR glasses.  “The evolution of virtual reality networks has gotten to the point that most people wear computerized contact lenses and earpieces, if not having bionic implants.  Even the homeless now have devices superimposing data streams directly into their day-to-day perception.  They seem to have solved the problem with these implants and shapeshifting, so even we therianthropes can get cybernetics now.  And, genetic engineering has gotten more sophisticated.  They’ve developed a cure for lycanthropy—it’s no longer a one-way commitment.”  He looked around a bit.  “I’m happy to report that Quest for Survival was cancelled after only four years…”
“Yes,” Conus answered, “we’re eager to find out all this, but we’re in a bit of a hurry right now.  Any sign of Gardener?”
“His archive is not in the LGFF trust; it was closed down a number of years back, and I’m having to chase off a bloodhound program spotting anyone asking about it.  The reserve site has been relocated to a second, more technologically sophisticated network—I think one using Cy-BRAIN’s architecture.”
“Damn,” Conus answered.
Elodea opened her eyes, having just downloaded some additional information herself.  “Selena and I can search for him much more quickly.”
Xau removed his headgear.  “I may be able to boost your processing speed even more—there’s a number of distributed computing networks using encrypted processes, supported in part by a hacker community wanting to keep a low profile.  If I do this right, you’ll be able to use billions of additional processors while we’re in range of Earth.  In short, you’ll be as smart as Shann himself.”
Selena smiled at the suggestion.  “I’ll be sure to put some thought into how astral projection fits into unified theory.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Xau replied.

Doctor Frankenstein inspected a remnant of Scott Gardener’s shirt, and several tufts of small, black fur.
“Journal entry, October 14th, 1892.  My original fears were that some wild beast had gotten ahold of Mr. Gardener, but I saw no signs of bloodshed—only a bloodless struggle evidenced in the form of tattered remnants of his attire, and a small assortment of mysterious hairs.  I sorted it into several batches and examined them one at a time with the aid of a microscope.  Of the first, their multilayered coloration pattern suggested not a man, but some other mammalian form, such as a cat or dog.  The second stack consisted of hairs which clearly belonged to Mr. Gardener—long, dark brown to black, and unmistakably his.  What troubled me was the third set of hairs, which combined the characteristics of the other two, almost to imply that all three collections stemmed from the same organism.”
The doctor sat up, thinking out loud.  “An aversion to silver….  Seems to me I read of that in the local folklore somewhere.”  He walked over to a row of books on a shelf in the corner of his laboratory, pulling one and scanning through it.
“Chapter XVII: The Werwoulves and Vampyres.”
He started thumbing through it, reading with great fascination, coupled with growing anxiousness.  “Good lord!  Could Count Dracula be one of them, too?”  He frantically put on an overcoat and began assembling trinkets and articles.  He opened the book back up and glanced at it.  He ran over to a nearby old, wooden table and broke its leg off, ripping several strips of wood off of it, until it formed a sharp point.  Then, he ran back to the book.  “I pray this cannot be true.”  The doctor placed the spike into his coat, and he searched the room.  It would be awhile before he could fabricate bullets.  He began sorting through his collection of wires and electrodes, setting aside those made of silver.  He checked his pocket and pulled out several coins, adding them to the stack.  Then, he took a small rod and wrapped the silver around it.  A stick with a silver handle—if worst comes to worst, he could hope it would suffice.  He then stopped to center himself.
There has to be a rational explanation.  He took a deep breath, talking to himself out loud.  “The case for Mr. Gardener as a werewolf—circumstantial at best.  Of the notion that Count Dracula is undead—then again, there is the fantastic resurrection of the Pharoah.  I must have more facts.”
The doctor hastily filed the splinters off of his makeshift wooden stake, and tightened the edges of his silver-wrapped staff, making certain not to injure himself with his own fantastic makeshift tools.  Then, he decided to make his way towards Count Dracula’s personal study, upstairs.  There was the one locked room—appearantly it held additional knowledge beyond the Count’s collection of historic documents left more readily accessible.
Doctor Frankenstein ascended the stairs, carrying his lantern to guide him through the darkness until he reached the levels of the fortress proper above.  Upstairs, as he approached the mysterious private chamber, he felt motivated to extinguish the flame.  Though the darkness around him was more unsettling than usual, he convinced himself that he was a grown man.  He started to try the lock on the door, but stopped when he heard a conversation inside.  It was the Count.
“I fear introducing Tutankhamen and the doctor to Gardener may have given him perhaps too much insight too soon about this pocket reality of yours, Mr. Shann.  They both are concepts based on the theme of resurrection and afterlife—continuing hints of his own state of being.”
“But I want him to discover himself,” a voice answered back.  It was smooth and deliberate, with each word chosen with great care.  “I cannot take away his free will—that would undermine everything.  But, you can guide and direct where he is going by gaining his animal form’s trust.  Take advantage of his wolf form.  He will grow to entrust in you intuitively.  While in that state, you can implant suggestions.  When you take away his heightened cravings for human flesh and forgive him for the people he kills, he will eventually see you as his savior.”
“Of course,” the Count replied.  “The crime—real or imagined.  I become his salvation from that offense.  I am very familiar with this trick.  I’ve lead armies under several different religions.”
“But, first, he will go to the others one by one.  Make sure he ultimately kills them.”
“Indeed—the more guilt the better.”  As the Count spoke, a mysterious color—green—permeated the colorless world, emanating out from beneath the door.  After it faded out, Dracula added, “I have my own plans for Gardener.”  Dr. Frankenstein heard the count head towards the door, so he ran down a corridor and hid as Dracula exited the room and ascended another stairwell, his long black cape billowing behind him.  “I will show Gardener the glory of what we are.”
The doctor ran up to the room and tried the door, but it was locked.  He took out a small metal wire from his lab and fidgeted with the lock until it came open.
It was a small study, filled with musty tomes.  A small crystal ball sat on a nearby table, emitting the faint green light.  The doctor placed his hand over it, seeing shapes form in the air—a miniature globe, a small cluster of stars, a book, an hourglass, and a small metal bin with three arrows pointing at each other in a continuous triangular cycle.  Each floating image was in a mixture of unfamiliar colors, a sharp contrast to the black and white of the world around them.  He reached out to touch the book, which came open and grew in size from a miniature form to a full-sized tome, floating from mid-air onto the study’s table.  It was opened to a section where blank paper awaited new entries.  The last entry was dated October 14, 2121.
“Of Scott Gardener, I shall not chain him with guilt as Thomas Shann asks.  Instead, I shall free him from it.  Let the wolf ravage this land; I shall teach him the lessons I have learned from the likes of the Hungarians—to be more ruthless, more relentless, and more bloodthirsty than they or anyone can imagine.  He in turn may very well hold the key towards freeing me from this wretched shadow realm of existence; and, if so, my dear Shann, I will come for you.”

“You may want to take a look at this,” Elvedea advised Conus on the control deck.  She pulled up a display of a long, rectangular object nearly the size of Conus One, pulling away from the Moon, towards Tau Ceti.  “It seems we may have been spotted.  Worse yet, C.A.T. may have realized that as long as we’re gone, Utopia could be defenseless.”
“Then we’d better hurry,” Conus answered back.  “Maybe we can catch up to it, but we dare not take more than a few days out here.”

Scott Gardener woke up in a small monestary, as a hooded, druid-like figure offered him a serving of soup.
“No, thanks.  I think I have already eaten.”  He dreaded the thought of what or who was now in his stomach and beginning to disseminate through various metabolic pathways throughout his body.
The figure pulled his cloak aside, revealing a short, bearded, black-haired man with the presence of perhaps a poet.  “I found you out there, naked, alone.  I could only assume some sort of malady had afflicted you, so I brought you here to protect you from the things out there.”
Gardener shuddered, curling up in a set of sheets until the man offered him another set of robes.  “What sort of things?”
“A wolf broke into the Martins’ home.  The children escaped, but the old woman—I hate to think about it.”
“Wolves should not be so savage creatures,” Gardener answered back.  “They’re wild animals, but it’s not like them to attack people.”
“You don’t seem to know very much about wolves, Mr. Gardener,” the man answered, stirring his small pot of food.  “Around here, they are vicious creatures, who will stop at nothing to rend and kill merely for the enjoyment of it.”
Gardener looked back at the man, taking in his scent and inspecting his features.  “Tim?  Is that you?”
“Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone you knew.  My name is Leonard.”
Scott looked around at the colorless room around him.  “You reminded me of Tim Franklin.  An old friend of mine.  We worked on stories together.  This world—it so much reminds me of something he put together once.”
A knock filtered through the monestary, indicating a presence outside.  Leonard and Gardener both approached the entrance, where another monk greeted a young Egyptian man, who was looking for Scott.
“This way, Mr…”
“Call me Tut.”
Gardener nodded and bowed slightly.  “Your High…”
“Please—for now I’m a wandering peasant,” he said quietly.  “Now may not be the best time to reveal ourselves.”
Gardener nodded and introduced the man to Leonard.  “My friend Tut.”
The Pharoah then added to Scott in another aside, “I’ve learned of a Nubian warrior woman seeking you out.”

Scott Gardener and the Pharoah passed through the center of the village, taking care not to draw too much attention to themselves in spite of their unusual appearances and attire.
“Hopefully Elodea will be looking for me,” Gardener answered back.  However, as he and Tutankhamen looked up, they noticed a gathering crowd of people.  One of them pointed towards Scott.
“That’s the man they found at the monestary.  He must be the werewolf!”
Tutankhamen glanced at Scott.  “Run.  I’ll protect you.”
“From all of them?”
“Trust me.”
Scott turned around and tossed his robe aside, running naked through the streets, towards the forest beyond.  He felt his feet instinctively becoming hindpaws, and soon he dropped to all four members, running in animal form.  It was starting to come back to him.
As the crowd closed in on the Pharoah on their way to Gardener, he held up his hand.  The ground rumbled, and then abruptly it cracked open, forming a gap between him and the angry villagers.  They stopped, some narrowly missing falling to a depth more than thirty meters deep.  Then, he raised his arms out and threw himself into a tight spin, disappearing as a whirlwind blew across the forming mob.

Scott ran back to the castle, finding the gates open for him but closing behind him.  He stood upright, struggling to shed his animal form but finding himself unable to do so completely.  He gave up his efforts, loping along on hindpaws deeper into the castle until he came upon the Count, greeting him.
“They would brand you a monster—and so, you must become one.  Bear in mind that it is at their insistance.  Feel no pity for them, for it is what they ask of you—to rend them of their flesh and blood.”
Gardener growled back, baring his teeth.  But, Dracula simply smiled.
“Trust me; right now I am by far the greater monster.  You are still hampered by guilt and compassion.  I can help you remedy that.  It’s much easier than allowing time and experience to serve that purpose.”
Gardener tried to shift back to human form, but he felt something emanating from the Count, holding him back.  He attempted to demand of him to release his spell over him, but he could only generate a series of barks and growls.  None-the-less, Dracula appearantly understood.
“Yes, your human form.  It will return shortly.  But, there is another full moon tonight.  In the mean time, we must both rest.”
Gardener tried to attack, but as he lunged forward, something within him prevented him from striking.  The Count then simply turned away and walked down a corridor.  “Trust me, Scott Gardener.  There are those who would reduce you to puppetry, but I feel you have much greater potential.”

“This is the justice they understand,” a man called out in the local tavern, loading mullet into a primitive shotgun.  “I say we find that monster wolf and his wizard friend!”  Several others cheered, rallying with him.  One of them began handing out torch rods.
“We can use these to burn them and their sanctuary!  I saw them headed towards Castle Dracula!”
The room became silent as a mysterious black woman entered the pub.  Her glossy attire creaked slightly as she circled around, her chest only partially hidden behind vinyl, and her shape clearly visible through her leather waist, against its chainmail accents.  Thick, blocky heels lifted her and accented her strut.  She approached the man with the torches.
“Castle Dracula?”  She looked at the torches and smiled mischieviously.  “You do realize that Dracula is a vampire.”
The crowd members murmured among themselves, and then the man with the shotgun blurted out, “you expect us to believe that the Count is one of the living dead?”
She stroked the weapon suggestively, briefly, before ripping it from his grip and tossing it to the ground.  “You don’t stand a chance against him.  No holy water, no crucifixes, and not even so much as a little silver mirror.”  She strutted in front of one of the others, demanding, “Now, where is Scott Gardener?”
“I don’t know,” he answered back.  With one hand, she grabbed his shirt and lifted him above the ground.
“Are you sure?”
“He’s back at the castle,” the bartender answered.
Elodea looked at him, nodding.  “Thank you.”  She opened her mouth, and a wolf’s muzzle burst out.  The wolf peeled its way abruptly out of Elodea’s skin, folding her inside-out.  Her aggressive attire soon sank to the ground as the newly formed black wolf lept out a window, darting into the forest beyond with considerable speed.  The crowd of people backed away as Elodea’s leather and vinyl armor dissolved into smoke.

Scott panted heavily as the gray sunset unfolded.  Across the other end of the sky, the first slivers of moonlight were appearing.  He looked at his hand, feeling a sharp, tingling sting as the metamorphosis again began to consume him.  As the sun disappeared, the Count emerged from the castle depths to the balcony where Scott stood.
“It’s time to be what you were meant to be.”
“No,” Scott called out, running downward, into the fortress.  He made his way through a series of corridors, hoping to find a secluded room.  However, as he moved, he came upon the sound of footsteps and the scent of sustainance.
“The Count and this Shann individual are at odds with each other, but clearly, they are both drawing up plans against us.”  It was Doctor Frankenstein, talking with the Pharoah.
“Get away while…”  Scott started to call out, before his transformation disrupted his voice.  Then, only a series of growls remained.
Gardener still stood upright, but his features were entirely bestial.  He turned a corner to find the two other guests of the Count, standing together, looking back at him.  The Pharoah stepped forward first.  “This is not the way of your kind, Scott Gardener.  A malevolent spirit named Thomas Shann has…”
Gardener growled and lunged forward.  The young Egyptian grabbed him as he reached, tossing and deflecting his blow.  He pulled forth his flail, pointing it towards Gardener.
“I am no stranger to political manipulation.  Horumheb usurped my place—murdered me.  He tried to banish me, my family, and the name of Aton.”
Gardener struck out again, striking his arm with his teeth.  But, Tutankhamen thrust his arm into the bite and jolted Gardener back.  He raised his other arm and flail, and a wind blew against Scott, pushing him back into a nearby wall.
“The things we do to each other for the sake of power—fear, gods, demons…”  Gardener charged back, pummelling the Pharoah, hurling him down a flight of stairs.  Then, he stormed towards Dr. Frankenstein, who clumbsily took out his silver-wrapped rod, dropping it.  Gardener tore into his shoulder and clamped down as the doctor gasped.  The Pharoah ran back up, towards his aide, but another figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
“The things we do, indeed,” Dracula answered.  He pointed his finger, and a bolt of lightning threw the young Egyptian across the room, into and through a stone wall, crushing the surrounding stone blocks and collapsing that portion of the room.  Gardener eyed the doctor, ready to deliver a fatal strike.  However, he stopped to sniff the air.
Two swirling vortices of energy appeared, and two women emerged from them.
“Elodea, distract them,” Selena called out.  “I’ll transfer Gardener.”
Elodea’s clothing vanished into smoke, leaving her visible before the others.  Gardener started to charge towards Elodea, who levitated upwards and kicked him back.  She shifted to hybrid animal form and jumped over him, biting into his left shoulder.  Sparks of energy bolted from her jaws into the bite wound, which abruptly closed.  She stroked his head briefly, whispering, “remember.”
As Gardener stood up, Selena stood next to a computer panel visible where stone had been moments before.  “I’ve uploaded and deleted the master copy.  This is the only version of Gardener actively running.  I’ve almost transferred him.”
Dracula then fired a series of bolts at Selena, who raised her hands reflexively.  The bolt deflected back, striking the Count and destroying the stairs underneath him.  As the ground broke up, he rose and transformed into something resembling a giant, monsterous bat.
Gardener could speak again in hybrid wolf form.  “Transfer the doctor and the Pharoah!”  He ran over to Selena, who worked frantically as Elodea lept upwards and punched back the monsterous bat barrelling down towards them.  Doctor Frankenstein and Pharoah Tutankhamen both flickered briefly.  Then, they, the two women, and Scott disappeared from Dracula’s castle in a blazing sparkle of light.

Conus One abruptly swept away from Earth and the Moon, propelling itself back to the Tau Ceti system.  Soon, the distortion of near-light-speed travel began to occur again.
Gardener stood next to Elodea in one of the projection cylenders on the control deck, while the other housed Selena Hawthorne, the doctor, and the Pharoah.  Conus and the crew of the control deck looked back towards the virtual entities, satisfied.
“I remember everything now,” Scott said.
“We were able to reassemble the rest of your memories,” Conus explained.  “A part of your memory archive survived the attack on the Prometheus.  It was simply a matter of integrating that archive, your master archive, and the one active program inside the Dracula simulation.”
Xau walked over to the projection of Selena and the two new virtual passengers.  “We do have with us some interesting new philosophical questions.”
“I had the opportunity to read the novel upon which I was based,” Dr. Frankenstein said.  “Ultimately, I’m sorry to say, I would appear to be an argument against what you are accomplishing even now—re-engineering the code of life molecules, or transcending death, let alone creating wholly artificial beings such as myself.  My desire for continued existance is a paradox.”
Conus interjected, “you have as much right to exist as any biological entity as long as you have consciousness.  As for Mary Shelley, it’s too late to put the genie back in the bottle now.”
“But,” Ipanema added, “you should be careful how you phrase your wishes.  Give Shelley some credit.”
“No, doctor,” Tutankhamen answered.  “It is I who must pass on.”
Scott and the Doctor both looked back at him, and soon the others joined in.  Xau asked, “why do you say this?”
“To each of you, this is your rightful place.  To me, this is only a transitional realm.  Yes, you have fulfilled the dreams of my people—you have made immortality possible.  But, my place is with the Aton.  Conus One, execute program Anubis.”  He began to sparkle with energy as his form broke up.
Conus turned to Xau.  “Quick!  Override protocol alpha one!”  But, Xau threw up his arms soberly.
“Too late.”  The Pharoah was gone.  Xau looked around, as though sensing an astral phenomenon.  In the Pharoah’s place, Selena found a scroll.  She opened it up, pausing for a moment to learn how to read later kingdom Egyptian.
“To Gardener, who is Anubis, to Selena, who is Isis, to Conus, who is Amun-Ra, and to all of you, who are all the gods.  Farewell.  Wherever I am, know that I still do believe in you.  It is only the will of a few women and men that your images be corrupted into the tools of their quest for power.  To those who follow in my wake, I shall wait for you where all paths eventually may lead.”

Conus One continued to decelerate as it headed towards the second planet.  All weapons were primed and ready to fire as they closed in on the trail of the ship that came before them.
Elvedea turned towards Conus and Zolan.  “I’m detecting weapons fire near the planet.”
“Scott and I are sensing it, too,” Elodea stated from her projection column.  “I don’t think it’s from either the Prometheus engine—it could be the C.A.T. ship.”
The werepanther entered a few gestures over her instrument panel, and the overhead display zoomed in on a small section of the planet Utopia ahead.
The angular, blocky C.A.T. battleship was dog-fighting an unfamiliar ship, vaguely similar in appearance to Conus One.  However, instead of the angular, crystalline edges of the reverse-engineered Cozalien vessel, this new ship had more curved, organic lines.
Conus entered a series of strokes on his own console, and then spoke out.  “Conus One to C.A.T. battleship and unknown vessel.  You are in L.G.F.F. space.”
“Incoming signal,” Zolan answered.
“This is Captain Planar of the L.S.S. Orion.  Welcome, Conus One, we would appreciate any assistance.  Use plasma weapons at close range; their magnetic shielding deflects conventional artillary.”
“Conus One acknowledges,” Conus answered.  They soon joined the other ship, firing beams of light at the C.A.T. warship.  It fired back a few more times at both League ships before retreating, rocketing away towards the Solar System.
“Let them run,” Conus said.  He then punched his control console.  “Conus to Orion: we have Scott Gardener.”
Cheering could be heard in the background as a voice responded, “affirmative that, and on behalf of the L.G.F.F. League and the Utopian Provisional Government, welcome back.”