The general’s face contorted into a mask of rage, one which she directed at the man on screen. “Well Marcelle,” she said, her tone even but full of venom, “that’s at least thirty American soldiers that you just dropped an atom bomb on.”
“A small price to pay for the safety of all of our people.” Corden’s voice lacked any hint of remorse.
“That’s if it worked,” MacPherson spat back.
“Diane—”
“That’s General MacPherson to you,” she said icily.
Corden’s face darkened. “General MacPherson,” he growled, “the American military is the most powerful force in the world, answerable only to God himself. The bomb will work.”
“And my soldiers?”
“A sacrifice well within the acceptable bounds in regard to destroying that creature.”
“And the now displaced citizens of San Francisco?” MacPherson asked, searching for any hint of concern in the man’s wizened face.
“That is not my concern.”
No, MacPherson thought, of course it isn’t. “Get this son of a bitch off of my video screen,” she ordered. The screen froze on Corden’s offended face then blinked black. “Can any of our drones get live feed out of the city?”
“None. Anything we send in immediately succumbs to the radiation,” the comms officer said. “It’ll probably be a day or more before the effect clears up.”
“God damn it!” she roared. “We don’t know the status of our squadron, we don’t know the status of the enemy. Is there anything we do know?” She scanned the assembled soldiers with a furious eye. As her gaze ran across each of them in turn, they averted their gaze. A silent, and unanimous, “No”.
She kneaded her forehead. “Fuck this,” she muttered, “come get me when we have any new intel. I’m going to go check on those two headaches and their monster.”
The two headaches were all aflutter when she entered. She pretended not to notice the sudden drop in energy as she entered the makeshift research station. She also pretended not to notice the heat-fused hole in the floor and the gaping hole in the hangar ceiling. General MacPherson was here for any form of good news, and neither of those things leaned in that direction.
“So,” she said, spreading her arms, “what have you learned?”
Skylar cleared her throat. “Well given the resilience of the hybrid’s DNA and cellular makeup—”
MacPherson held up a hand. “English, please.”
“When Akuma grows up, he’ll be more powerful than both of his parents,” Devonte said. “He’s already capable of discharging plasma in the form of a directed energy beam. It’s…actually relatively weak right now despite how it may seem.” He gestured awkwardly at the damage the general was trying so hard to ignore.
Akuma had watched her as she entered. He gave no indication of threatening behavior. But he watched her. An idea sparked in the general’s mind on this observation. She stormed over to Devonte, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the nearest workstation.
“You mean to tell me,” she shouted, “that you’ve been raising this thing, knowing damn well that it is an even greater threat than the thing out there that we’ve yet to succeed in killing?” Guns didn’t hurt it, she thought. She caught sight of a syringe on the desk. Right. Still holding Devonte in place with one arm, she snatched up the syringe with her other and jabbed it toward his neck, stopping just before contact. The boy let out a panicked shout, and then she heard it. She spun around, syringe still at Devonte’s neck, and faced Akuma.
“General, what the hell…” Devonte started.
“Shut up,” she hissed in his ear.
Skylar spoke in a pacifying voice, “General we were going to report back, and…”
“Hush and look,” she said.
Akuma had risen from his lounging position and now stood at full alert. His reptilian hackles were fully raised, and his frill was extended to full, crackling with electricity. A menacing hiss seeped out of his throat, and his eyes were narrow slits. He was primed to attack, and his eyes were fixed on the general.
“The damn thing didn’t just not eat you,” the general said, “it thinks you’re its family.” She slowly released Devonte from her grasp and backed away from him. Akuma hissed and tracked her every move. MacPherson placed the syringe back on the desk and held up her hands in a placating manner. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I threatened him.” She moved to the other side of the room, opposite Devonte. Akuma stared her down for a long while, but eventually relaxed.
“So wait,” Devonte said, glancing back and forth between Akuma and the general, “that was all a test?”
“An experiment, yes.” MacPherson crossed her arms. “I suppose I owe you an apology as well.”
“That’s…brilliant,” Skylar said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “He’s like a guard dog.”
“So that means he’s not a threat, right?” Devonte asked.
“No,” MacPherson said, “he is quite distinctly a threat to anyone who would threaten you.” She eyed the creature warily. “But he didn’t immediately attack me, which shows quite a level of self-control.”
“Akuma is exceptionally smart. He is able to respond to simple commands like a dog, but he also shows a reasonable level of problem-solving ability.” Devonte swelled with pride, like a parent boasting about their child.
He’s attached, MacPherson thought with a heavy sigh. “You realize that once the government at large gets wind of…Akuma…we won’t be able to keep him here. He’ll likely be given to a professional team of researchers…” she trailed off as she watched both Skylar and Devonte visibly deflate. “It’s not a pet you know,” she continued, “but as of recent, I’ve seen the…competence of our government in a stark new light, so all I will say is this: if no one finds out, no one finds out. Take that as you will.”
“General,” Devonte asked, “what do you think we should do?”
“I believe the most effective safety precaution for any weapon is for it to be in the hands of a reliable and
