Morbquest - Road to Hell

New York, 2003

Being in middle school isn't easy, and you, Mr. Michael Morbius, aren't an exception to the rule. It's been difficult getting through classes despite your brilliance when your peers tease you constantly about your paleness and the "walking like an old man". Teachers' reassurance that you have much more potential than the average student didn't assuage your feelings of being not "normal".

So, you trudged through school as best you could. Everyone else seemed healthy enough, playing sports without collapsing on the ground, or pairing up in activities without their partner sitting as far away as they could. You took more to reading and writing, preferring to not speak up as not to draw attention to yourself. Less taunting that way.

Reading became your habit, and quickly turned into your passion. The library went from a place you once couldn't figure out due to the language barrier to a world you could disappear into among the forests of bookshelves and behind the comfort of pages. You worked your way up from simpler stories of knights and damsels to introductions to various fields of sciences. It wasn't much, but the gears in your head started turning when you read about the human body, its various parts, and remembered the various topics the doctors said about your health.

"Unknown". "Incurable". "Like nothing we've seen before". Those words echoed in your mind, yet were strange to your tween mind. Weren't scientists and doctors supposed to have answers? They were smart, so why couldn't they just find an answer? Mom told you that the doctors in America would be the best of the best, and they'd be able to find answers, but so far, none of the doctors you've seen said much different. Your mother grew increasingly haggard as time went on, and that seeped into your own disposition.

You tried to not show it, but your mother, Sophia, placed a hand over your shoulder as you waited, trying to glean what information you could from the office's magazine pile. It had been a few minutes' wait, with this clinic being a more well-known one that you were referred to by the previous doctor. No one else was in the room, apart from someone who was already in the room before you both arrived. A hope for a cure wasn't really on your mind at this point, with how the previous visits have gone. You were just focusing on finding the "Latest Gossip!" from the magazine, seeing it as a challenge.

Not long before you found the disappointingly mild rumor on the next page did a frustrated grunt come out of the doctor's door. Audible footsteps approached the door, then a tall man with a handlebar moustache and wearing a navy blue suit pulled the door open.

"I take time out of my day to get my son to your clinic, and expect something more than 'I don't know' for an answer, sir." The man holds the door open, escorting what you assume was the son he mentioned out of the room.

The boy looked about the same age as you, supporting himself with a walker. He had a tired look on his face and slowly made his way towards the seats on your row.

The man still stood in the doorway, continuing to rant at the doctor inside. "How much do you charge, again, for a visit? At least if I go to a fast food joint, I can get what I order! Hell, if I paid as much as what I do here at a mom and pop store, they'd work head over heels for an answer, not just wave me off! You know..."

He continues ranting, and you start tuning him out. You gave the boy a wave, a gesture he returned. With a welcome from your mother, he plopped down beside you.

"Hello..." The boy says, sighing.

"Hello, I'm Michael." You hold out your hand, trying to do your friendliest smile, feeling that this boy wasn't the kind to make fun of your condition.

"I'm Lucien..." He looks back at his father, occupying the doctor's door. "... Sorry about my dad, we'll be going when he's done."

"Do you... Like books?" You ask, flapping the magazine in your hands.

He tilts his head to see the front page. "No, I like music, though!" He pulls out an iPod from his pocket, fiddled with the device before turning it to you, showing a collection of song titles. "I also have Legos at home. Dad doesn't let me bring them outside, though."

"Oh... Well, what song is that?" You point to a song and he explains .mp3 files and how he got songs from the internet.

"Dad has a computer at home, and I get to go on the web and find cool stuff, like these songs." Lucien articulates his words by mimicking a keyboard.

"I haven't used one of those before." You admit, mouth open and imagining how moving songs around would look like.

"I could show you! Though, we'll have to ask my dad first..." Lucien looks disappointed. "So what books do you read?"

You perk up. "Story books, mostly. Some fantasy stuff. But recently, I'm getting into science books. They're pretty cool, some talk about space, some about animals. I like a bunch of animals, and wanna see some of the cooler ones in real life someday!"

This went on for what felt like an hour, being the first time you had found a peer genuinely wanting to listen to your interests. In reality, however, time moved much quicker.

The droning sound of Lucien's father's tirade finally died down, and you heard footsteps coming towards you. "Come on Lucien, time to go." His voice had lowered in intensity by a lot.

"Dad, this is Michael and his mom." Lucien smiles at his father, fiddling with his walker.

Your mother holds out her hand. "I'm Sophia. Nice to meet you." The two shook hands, then the man helped his son up to his walker.

"Thomas. I see you've made a friend here, Lucien." He gives a gentle pat on Lucien's back. "Not often you see a friendly face around these parts."

"Can we go to their house, dad?" Lucien asks.

"Well, we'll see, son. These folks need to get to their doctor right now, though. Sorry for the hold up, m'am." He dips his head, puts a hand on Lucien's shoulder, and shakes his head, muttering. "The healthcare in this nation is going to the dogs, I tell you."

You give a wave to the duo, steadying yourself on your crutch to head towards the doctor's office. Your mother steadies you, waving to the tired-looking doctor who motioned you forward.

The sound of the father-son duo talking faded as you approached the door, step by step.

Before you could enter the room, Lucien's father called out, and you both turned around and saw him approaching. "Excuse me, but my boy, Lucien, wants to see Michael, if possible. Like, a play date, of sorts. Truth be told, my work doesn't leave me much time to spend with him, but please do consider it, it's rare to see him get along so well with a new kid." He pulls out a card from inside his jacket, passing it to your mother. "Here's my business card. We can hash out the details later, but I'll leave you to your appointment. Best of luck."

With a salute, the duo leave, with you and Lucien exchanging grins before turning around.

<><><><><>

You wave across the office, letting the door close behind you as the attendant leaves the room. Before you is a man sitting in his chair, his slick fade cut clashing with his dark blue suit, yet accentuating his angular facial features alongside a short professionally trimmed beard. He waves back, stretching his left hand at the empty seats in front of his desk. His other hand fiddling with the IV drip to his side.

"If it isn't the Doctor himself." His voice carries itself far despite his weakened look. It also sounds more British than you remember. "I'm honored to be in the presence of scientific greatness, good sir. Please, sit, sit."

This is what I get for telling him things. "Lucien, please, we've known each other for years. The award doesn't mean anything special." You pace yourself to the seat on the left, admiring the bookshelves covering the sides of the room. "Been making progress?"

He chuckles. "The books? You're free to borrow. For your request, though? Oh, yes."

You sit down on the plush chair, the back comfortably supporting your back as you slowly sink into the seat and rest your crutch on the side. Lucien presses something on an interface below the desk, causing the monitor in front of him to turn towards you, stopping so you both can see.

"Straight to business? Just like your old man, Luce."

His eyebrows twitch. "You're too modest, Michael. Yes, the prize doesn't mean much. That is, if you discount the prize money, the recognition for more potential help, and most importantly, the boost to self-esteem!" Lucien spreads his arms out, grinning. "Say, how are things with your... Partner?"

Your head recoils at the comment, holding up a finger to correct him. "I- You mean, my lab assistant. Martine. And she is doing fine. Our relationship is professional, and our private lives are none of your business." You flap your hand like a duck's bill. "I'd rather you don't publish gossip articles on your friends."

Lucien raises an eyebrow and the edges of his mouth. "I meant Emil, you goofball!" He watches you breathe in as much air as you can to filter out the embarrassment. "I'm just messing with you, that face tells me all I need to know. I get it, but keep it up, yeah? A lady so devoted to a cause... A rarity." He does a chef's kiss, causing your eyes to roll further back.

"Okay, sorry for comparing you to Thomas, sheesh. Let's just get back on topic, yeah." You recompose yourself, analyzing the portfolio you see on screen. "So who's this supposed to be?"

"This, Romeo," Lucien's grin doesn't fade away. "Is a contact I've met. Goes by the name 'Ennustaja'. They -- I don't know if it's just one person or a group, but they're a tech specialist who deals with various kinds of information, and heard my explanation for our condition."

The last word rang out, bringing the conversation back into more serious territory. You shuffle in your seat, squinting at the words on screen. "'Ennustaja'. Sounds European. So wait, why is this so vague? Information specialist... Trader... Crypto... Lucien, tell me you didn't..."

Lucien holds his hands up. "Hey officer, I don't have anything on me." He scrolls around with the mouse, pulling up an email conversation. "This was all they said through mail at first. Then, we had a voice call. This is legit, they're based in Europe, as you guessed. I mentioned you and they commented on how an in-person meeting would be perfect for us."

"You're going to meet them?"

"I could, but I thought that since you were going to the Nobel ceremony, that would be a good idea."

"Wait, you made plans for me, without my consent?"

"It's not like that. They... Already knew about your award. The whole thing. And some personal details of mine... Kind of creepy, to be honest. Probably got info on us when I mentioned 'medical acquaintance who shares my condition' over the mail... Oh." He pinches his forehead.

For the first time at this meeting, you felt a twist in your stomach. "You never were the critical one. I just pray this person, or group, doesn't do anything with that info. People who do this are bad news."

"Aw, I thought we were done with insults." Lucien holds his finger up, which then goes to do a zipping motion. "And yeah, I'll keep my lips tighter, as best I can. But, what do you think? They seem decent enough. Our bank accounts are still as they are -- at least, mine is, and there's no FBI chasing our tails. The meeting is up to you, though. If you agree, I can give them the go-ahead and we can plan out how to ask for the right information without getting held hostage by the Swedish Mafia or something."

"Let's not joke about that. I'd prefer not to think about crime lords and what they do to hostages." You lay back and try relaxing against the plush chair and ponder. Emil was already on the list, and Martine was going as your plus-one. The awards ceremony is held in just over a month, so there's still some time to prepare.

But who to have in the know?

Choose 1:
[] Meet with Ennustaja yourself, and keep it a secret from Emil and Martine. You'll have Lucien on the line, anyways.
[] Meet Ennustaja with Emil. Martine is more stubborn than you when it comes to legally dubious things..
[] Meet Ennustaja with Martine. Emil wouldn't keep his composure in front of the mafia, anyways.
[] Bring both Emil and Martine to meet with Ennustaja. There's safety in numbers, right?

<>

Before stepping out into the chilly street, you consider hailing a cab before being approached by a very familiar woman with blond hair and a long maroon coat.

"Michael!" She walks up with excited steps, her smile infecting you. "Not sure if you saw my text, but I'm ready to head over when you're ready."

You pat your pocket, forgetting that you put the phone on silent mode. "Ah shoot, my bad, Martine. Got carried away, you know how Lucien is."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "That's Lucien, alright. Partying it up, schmoozing up with questionable folk, if I recall what you've said about him?"

"Well I wouldn't say that's wrong. I'm sure he's doing something right at least, looking as well as he can be." You motion towards the lobby's main door.

She nods, walking alongside you. "Did you get what you needed, at least?"

"Yep. We can talk about it over dinner, though. That Italian place had a new vegetarian dish, you said?"

"Oh, and the artichokes are just divine! They're normally bland, but they put a little something delightful in that sauce, you'll love it." Martine feigns smelling the air as she holds the door open.

"I do love sauces."

"Speaking of sauces..." You could swear there was a twinkle in her eyes as you turned to her. "The samples you ordered have arrived, the ones for the next set of trials. Rats should arrive in a few days, just in time for Halloween." She holds her index fingers up to her mouth and makes a hissing noise.

"So morbid." You playfully wave her off, stumbling out the door. "Right before dinner, too?"

She follows you out the tower entrance, chuckling. "Just getting us in the mood. Less for you to worry about. Let's just say you get a little wrapped up in things. Really jumbles up your brain."

You begin shuffling faster down the sidewalk, spiritually pouting. "I have no idea what you mean, you've been working just as much."

"I believe in the work, Michael. In a cure." She puts a hand on your shoulder. "I believe in us."

"I know."

<><><><>

Update for my fellow morbheads! AKA Plaus Attempts To Write A Straight Romance On SV And Now Is Going To Get Cancelled???
The good Dr. Morbius finds a new source of information, courtesy of Lucien. How will he approach this individual or group? 🤔

One vote for this update, and voting is open from Jun 20, 2022 at 5:00 PM until Jun 24, 2022 at 11:59 PM ! Gonna see how this voting thing works out, haven't used it before...

Results are in! Looks like Martine will sit this one out; I'm sure it'll all turn out fine.
In the meantime, you still have to get some trials done. Award shows and meeting random people isn't your job, after all!

[X] Meet Ennustaja with Emil. Martine is more stubborn than you when it comes to legally dubious things..

Martine.

Perhaps it was fate when you met her. Working as a resident following your doctorate was a demanding task even for your brilliant mind, no thanks to your frailty and the taxing nature of the job. Thankfully, at the age of 22, you managed to get the prerequisite work out of the way. Research was your passion, and the hectic schedule of the hospital did no favors for your deteriorating health.

Needing regular transfusions and blood thinners, your movements were confined mostly to the hospital, but training under Dr. Rivara made the process easier. She made sure you were able to requisition the materials you needed, while hurrying between patients. Working in the hematology department allowed you an insight to the various ways blood diseases affected people, and the ways to treat and cure them.

You found that your condition made it easier to relate and understand the patients you met. It also made it more disappointing when you found few patients with the same disease. Even more so when you couldn't find a cure, merely able to stave off the inevitable.

Swapping your focus between residency and research became easier for you as time went on, and you gradually moved from analysis of medicine and blood to animal testing. This culminated in Martine joining you as your assistant, while working on her own medical degree. The relationship between the two of you was professional at the time, with being overworked and tired the main bonding activity you had.

Martine was there for her specialization in animal-human diseases, attending to the conditions of the lab animals, making recordings, and analyzing them, under Dr. Rivara's care.

Though trustworthy, she was -- and still is -- a stickler for the rules. Each experiment was preceded by all the protocols that were required of you, which you often forgot. In fact, you were thankful that she prevented you from just rushing into multiple experiments, as the results would have needed redoing at best, and a waste at worst.

That's why you didn't want to get her involved in... whatever this is.

"I think I'll meet this shady figure with Emil. He's a good friend, and can talk his way around a room. I figure you'll be on the phone, too?" You say.

Lucien drums his fingers on the table. "Should work. Don't want to bring Martine along? She is arguably the real brains of your operations, from what I've seen."

You try to ignore the smirk covered by his hand. "Just a hunch, but I don't want to bring her into this. It's just a short meeting, right? She'd never even go to meet some shady guys. I mean... can you just make sure these aren't dangerous criminals we're dealing with? I just don't know who or what we're dealing with, or if it's worth the hassle."

"I've already said, Michael, if they wanted to hurt us, they would have. We currently have an opportunity here! A mutually beneficial partnership, even." He looks deep into your eyes, the sternness sinking in. "I get it, you think this is me being my stupid businessman self. That is part of it, yeah. But we both know that... we only live once. And we got to make the most of it."

He rests back into his chair, letting the words sink in.

"Have you looked in a mirror recently, Michael?" Lucien sighs. He waves a hand in front of his face. "This is the face I put on daily for people. For the public. It's makeup, but also up here, in the mind. It's the same for you, you put on the face of the great doctor Michael Morbius, but it's others who decide that for you, in your case. Underneath all that, we're just sick people. If it weren't for my privilege or your brains, we wouldn't survive in this world. If it weren't for those things, we wouldn't have met the people that made us the men we are today. We wouldn't have met each other. We wouldn't have had this opportunity. I'm just asking you as a friend, not as a media producer. It's like that corny friendship shit, but in reality, we owe it to the people we care about. You've already done so much for me, so please, just let me do something for you. Please, trust me."

Realizing you were staring the whole time, you tilt your head down in ponderance. "I... okay. It's just a lot to take in, and I guess I'm a bit too paranoid at times, so sorry if that came off as dismissive."

"I might have rambled a bit, but I do mean it. I wouldn't tell you this unless it was important. I'll work on being less of a blabbermouth, and you keep on being your best, yeah?"

"Yeah, that I can do."

<><>

"No matter how many times we do this, I still can't get used to it." Martine says from behind the monitor. The lab's fluorescent lights hummed softly in the background as the three of you watched your workstations surrounding the rat.

Inside a ventilated glass box was a rat, body sparsely furred. It sniffed around, feet carrying it around the bottom of the box covered loosely in straw. Its breathing was quick and shallow. One of the few you've managed to acquire thanks to some of Martine's acquaintances in the pharmaceutical industry. The cost was within your budget, and the immunocompromised state of the creature meant it was useless for the company's project, but a solid fit for yours.

Emil sits across from you, checking on the box's various implements for resuscitation and electrotherapy in case of any emergencies. His tinkering of the cords and monitors made him flit to and fro, making sure each section functioned as it should.

You check over the glass vial in your hand, the inside filled with an opaque crimson liquid. The culmination of a few weeks' work, getting the right sequencing, the exact materials, as well as funding and approval from the institute. This wasn't the cure for your condition, but it was another step, and a crucial one at that. Finishing up your perusal of the anticoagulant and antibody results spread out all over your desk, you turn your head to Martine to your left.

"I try to reassure myself that I'm helping them. To me, they're no different from another patient, though intellectually... I know that animals aren't capable of consenting to being a patient in the first place." You wave in the air. "Alright, I shouldn't be so depressing here. Let's get on with the experiment. All good on my end, ready to begin?" You move towards the trolley beside the rat's box, putting the vial in a holder.

Martine gives a thumbs up, rising up from behind the screen. "Yep. Emil, got the equipment ready?" She moves the mouse a bit before moving over towards the box and the two of you, picking up a pair of rubber gloves on the trolley.

"Yeah, let's get started. Do the honors, Mike?" Emil lifts the cover of the box, letting Martine work on calming the rat within while attaching the IV to the subject's side.

You nod, filling up a syringe from the vial, attaching it to the tubing Martine passes to you. As the liquid makes its way to the rat, you slowly observe to make the transfusion proceed steadily.

"Vitals are looking stable." Martine reads off the monitor.

"Good. We'll just need to observe for the next few days and see if there's improvements." You finally lay down the rat and detach the cumbersome equipment from it, allowing it to roam within its box.

"We should get a bigger container." Emil comments.

"Been looking those up, but we'll need to pass it through the department. New equipment, budget, rules. You know how it is." Martine replies, scribbling on her notepad.

A ring sounds from the intercom next to the lab entrance, drawing your attention towards it. Emil turns around. "I'll get that."

You continue monitoring the rat, seeing its movements start to calm. It might finally be this one that works out, nights of frustration and calculations of the sequence of a composition that would fit this rat specifically. "If this turns out to work, we'll have a possibility for further trials, and perhaps move onto humans."

"Oh, that's a whole different legal beast we'll need to tackle." Martine shakes her head. "And don't nominate yourself as the subject. One thing goes wrong and poof." Her hands mimic fireworks.

You fake a betrayed look. "I'm careful!"

"I've worked with you for years, Michael, don't make me pull out the records again."

Before you could continue the banter or figure out the results, Emil calls out to you and Martine. As you raise your head, you see a woman in a deep red business suit and skirt trail behind Emil, followed by a slightly taller woman dressed in a black suit and sunglasses, her hands covered by brown gloves of a smooth material. You look to Martine, who nods at you, accompanying you to meet the trio halfway.

"Hey guys, these are..." He turns to the woman in red. "From MOST, correct?"

The woman, with shoulder-length brown hair, had eyes that seemed to pierce directly into you. "Indeed, Dr. Nikos. We are representatives from MOST Solutions, on behalf of one of our benefactors." She holds out her right hand at you. "Mrs. Leslie Stroud, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You approach and accept her handshake, balancing next to a desk with your left arm. There was something about her that seemed off. It wasn't just the creepy stare. "Dr. Michael Morbius."

She turns to Martine, who similarly to you goes to immediately take the handshake.

"Dr. Bancroft. Pleased to meet you." Martine says, pulling back after the firm greeting.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I'd like to direct your attention to the following proposal." Leslie opens her hand to the other woman, who provides her with a file, which is then passed to you. "Feel free to refer to the accompanying documentation. Simply put, our organization has kept a pulse on many aspects of various industries, seeking the best of the best. So, a Nobel-prize winner such as yourself garnered the attention of our superiors. Think of this as a once-in-a-lifetime offer..."

While she droned on, you open the file, with Emil and Martine looking over your shoulders. The documents contained a letter, addressed from the recruitment department of MOST Solutions, with its trademark swirly compass symbol stamped over the top, seeming to glitter in the light. Other documents included educational material on the organization of the company, as well as department details regarding personnel and roles.

As Leslie's pitch winds down, you find an opportunity to get a word in. "So, you're a recruiter, then? Want to get us and our work before some other big pharma company snatches us up?"

"Affirmative. It's of grave importance that you consider this offer, doctor. Consider this offer a limited-time one." Her expression doesn't change, the tone staying eerie and constant. "Of course, the benefits to being 'snatched up' will be much greater than any other organization can provide. Our company has the facilities to provide you with all the materials you'd need, all the personnel and contacts you request, and a wide array of allowances to expedite any experiments you may conduct."

"You mean, there's an obvious catch. Also, questionable wording." Martine furrows her brows. "So, we've only just met. When would a reply be expected?"

"Whenever it suits the doctor. We understand the importance of this work to the longevity of many, so it would be up to him. Expect to begin as soon as you accept. Any relocation arrangements can be handled by our department. Just follow the contact on the brochure and the process can begin."

"So this is just for Michael, then?" Emil says.

"That would be up to you. The primary subject is Dr. Morbius himself, but your importance as his associates will also prove valuable to our organization, and to the potential projects for all the knowledge you possess."

"Alright, well, we'll let you know when we've come to a conclusion, thank you for visiting, m'am." Martine says, proceeding to lead them to the exit. The footfalls of the visitors sounded throughout the lab all the way, leaving you to discuss among yourselves.

<>

"It just feels like everything is revolving around me, you know? The awards, the people, now companies." You huff, slowly spinning in your office chair, the fluorescent lights humming. "Feels overwhelming, and I've already been through hell."

"Let's see." Emil picks up the folder Leslie gave you, inspecting the logo that seemed to glow faintly. "Well, my uncle has worked with MOST. Granted he mostly worked in their logistics department, so he didn't get to see the R&D side, but it's a fair place to work. You get what you put in, and they have good benefits."

Martine scoffs. "It's called being paid, Emil. Just because they don't enslave you doesn't mean you can just go off signing every contract you see. They scouted Michael out. They likely researched and made portfolios for all of us. Hell, they might be monitoring us right now, from the kind of tech I've heard they've made."

"Yeah, they are a defense contractor, at the end of the day." Emil says, poking at a paper on the desk. "They didn't mention it in these documents, but I have a feeling this might be related to their Protector program, considering that those people definitely aren't naturally that strong or fast."

You turn to your monitor and look up the company. "Those are the ones I see in the posters, right? The guys making the news. 'America's Protectors' or something cheesy like that."

You find the posters and various news articles on the topic, all promoting the positivity that comes with superpowered peacekeepers. Masks, costumes, gems, the stupid looking background designs. The screen showed shows and movies you hadn't bothered to watch, more interested in the books, which were just better plot-wise in every way.

"I've never really paid much mind to them, the media they put out might be a more popular thing with kids. From the articles, though, they do actually offer their 'services' to various state entities, for threats beyond their pay grade, it seems." You mutter, trying to make sense of how this could be related to your work.

Emil comes up behind you, hand on your desk. "Well, whatever the actual opportunity, the choice is still yours. You still have time anyways. If anything, this visit from those agents might ward off other headhunters!"

"Always the optimist." You snark.

Martine joins you on the other side. "The decision is ultimately up to you, Michael. I've said my part, but know that I'll support you no matter your choice. Someone needs to keep you out of trouble."

Want to join up with MOST?
[] Accept the offer. Progress demands sacrifice! What's a little signature for a big help?
[] Refuse the offer. We mustn't miss the forest for the trees. If they get mad, so be it!

<><><><>

Michael Morbius is but a smol fish in a sea of big fish 🐟, and business interests are always looking for the next Big Thing to control the market!

Hope y'all are enjoying the backstory bits interposed in the updates, and that my interpretation of Morbius's backstory makes enough sense. 🦇

We'll be ramping up into more action-y and intriguing bits soon, as the months tick by quicker than you think! Your choices now will have ramifications in the future updates, of course.