Morbquest - Road to Hell

[] International waters.
-[] Invade the Principality of Sealand.
"Sealand.

Our small nation is based on the foundation of freedom and allowing people to live as they choose. This station was originally built and manned by the Royal Navy to repel Nazi invaders during the Second World War. In the years following, this Maunsell Fort, known as Fort Roughs, was taken over by 'pirate' radio hosts, seeking to reach their audience with material that would be otherwise regulated.

My father, Roy Bates, a major in the Royal Army and first Prince of Sealand, conceived the idea of Sealand when his business in broadcasting had been constrained by British laws. This led him to form the micronation itself in 1967, followed by the formalization of the nation's flag, anthem, currency, and passport in 1975.

We've had our share of tides both high and low, and always look to the silver lining. Today, while some question our nationhood, we nonetheless exercise our ability to rule as a nation. We have our history, and face the future with a smile."

The video pauses, its panning shots of the concrete structure making it look like a plug stuck into the sea. The faces of the Bates family are frozen on screen, smiling beyond the camera.

"But you're not here for a history lesson, yes?" Micah Bates, current Prince of Sealand, speaks over the voice call, the same voice that narrated the video. "You're here for the ah, experimentation."

You nod, taking in his mirthful, meaty smile over the call. As strange as talking to an unofficial head of state was, you feel quite casual in your conversation. Despite the request you are making.

"Yes, I believe Lucien had given you the rough outline, that we'll need a lab area to work in for a few days. If everything pans out, we could have a great chance to save a lot of lives." You say.

"And a small matter of royalty, if you catch my meaning?" Micah unfolds his hands as if handing you a plate. "You get your lab, we get a stake in the venture. A mutually beneficial exchange, I'd say. Not to mention having a scientist such as yourself working with us will provide a great amount of recognition internationally."

You nod. "Yes, of course. Glad to know we can count on you."

"Well, when I heard Thomas's son calling about an urgent matter, I just had to answer." His smile droops a bit. "Disease... is something that's affected the lives of those near and dear to me. It would be an honor to their memory to do better for the world and its people."

"A worthy cause. Glad we are of one mind on this." You reply. "All that's left is just figuring out the itinerary and the items and equipment we'll need for the lab..."

Micah smiles. "Oh, that can be easily arranged. We have the required medical equipment to accomplish what you need, if the young Lucien's outline was comprehensive. Some more... specialized materials can be airlifted to the Tower ahead of time, if it would ease your journey."

"That's mighty generous of you to offer. I don't suppose you already have genetic resequencing machines just laying around?"

"Oh, you'll find we're full of surprises, young Morbius."

You scrunch your face to scrutinize his own. "You look quite young yourself, respectfully speaking!"

"A healthy and active lifestyle does wonders, yes?" He clasps his hands. "Right then. Let's get your tickets booked and the lab set up. We'll be in touch, Doctor."

<><><>

Over the next two weeks, you checked your list of genetic samples, test results, and serum formulas. It had to work. The one healthy subject wasn't a fluke. All that remained was the voyage, and getting it done. On you.

You shudder. It's come to this. You chose this path willingly. You were going to walk it.

The ploy with Lucien consisted of checking with his lawyers, which found that Sealand existed in a state of "legal purgatory". The Tower was de jure in British waters and the government could take it over at any time, but de facto, it found legitimacy in its interactions with its surrounding countries and relatively peaceful interactions with the mainland. The political situation on the British mainland made Sealand also a much lower priority. Through some political maneuvering, the Bates had apparently been able to effectively run their sea fort as a principality.

That was the extent of their brief research, however, as the amount of lawyers versed in Sealand's laws were few, to say the least.

It was difficult to leave your lab on lock and key again, but you knew this was it. You thought about visiting your mother's for what you felt might be your last visit, but decided against it. Would be too suspicious, she'd sniff out this stupid plan too easily. You decided on just a video call instead, with less guilt and potential drama.

"Hey mom."

"Honey! It's so good to see you. Everything okay with work? You better be taking good rest and care of yourself after that... incident." Her voice is as stern as her face is, with a genuine grin underneath. "I've tasked Lucien with looking after you however he can, God bless that boy. And your other friends too. Emil, that kid knows how to take things easy; and Martine..."

Oh brother.

"Have you thought of a day yet?"

"I'm gonna regret this." You mutter, before speaking aloud and innocently. "What day, mom?"

"For marriage! I have eyes and ears, Michael, and I can tell when you've got those thoughts in your head. When was the last time-- oh yes! Back in fifth grade-"

"Mom!" You blurt out and cough. "It was just a crush. You just won't let that go."

"She was a great girl! I know you're not the best at putting yourself out there, but I'll always support you no matter what." She purses her lips in a long, knowing smile. "Even if it takes forever to see my grandkids."

"I am so glad I called you alone."

Her shocked face is covered by a splayed hand. "Oh, you don't mean that!"

"No, of course not. Sorry." You exchange grins, and then sigh. "Just... kids? The babysitter will be more of a father than I would be. I don't even know how much of a life I'll have with... this."

Her face warms with a warm smile while watching you gesture at your gaunt face. "Oh honey. I don't really mean the children thing. You're ready when you're ready. It's just these thoughts that crawl into my head these days, yes? Silly thoughts. It makes me happy to just see you well. You've grown so much, learned so much, and seen so much. I'd say that God gives His toughest battles to His strongest soldiers, but you've heard enough of that."

You share a chuckle.

"You... you are without a doubt one of his strongest, Michael." She sniffles. "The pain you went through... to rise up. My heart breaks every time, but you mend it by just being there."

"We both know that I didn't do all the work, mom."

Sophia sighs. "Of course. Speaking of work, it's nice that you're taking breaks with the others again. England is nice this time of year, I've heard. Thomas has been gallivanting around Europe recently, I've heard through the grapevine."

"Oh, right, that sounds in character for him." You try your best to not sound guilty. "It's also a partial work trip, there's a bit of new discovery that looks promising. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to live like the rest of you after this?"

"Michael." She has a furrow in her brows. "Perhaps you will, perhaps you won't. You've been morbin', think more on your journey. Whatever you do, I don't want you to do anything too drastic. I can't stop you-- you're a man now, but you know how I am."

"I do. And look, it's a treatment that's been reviewed by other professionals, and it's the best shot we have so far. I'll come back, I promise."

"You better. If I have to swim across the ocean to drag you home, I will." She points an accusatory finger at you.

You chuckle. "I don't doubt that."

"I mean it." Her brows soften. "I know things have been hard recently, but don't do anything too drastic. Rely on your friends. Just keep me updated, maybe visit when you have time. Let me know you're safe."

"I will, it'll all be well."

<><>

What seemed a daunting task was actually quite a relaxing trip, with you spending most of the private flight over to the Isles asleep, which your body thanked you for. Cargo consisted of all the equipment you needed, Lucien's personal caretaker Robert, his chauffeur Samuel, and the four of you who somehow made this possible. You considered enlisting Luke back into your employ for this task, but decided that this was technically a visit to a place where the only inhabitants would be a royal family, so the average amount of protection would be adequate.

Touching down in England, you all immediately hopped into the waiting van, loaded up, and set out to the harbor at the coast of Sussex. There, you met the man who you had seen over the screen, in a black business suit, dress shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top, welcoming you to the town. He had set up a few rooms suitable for your group to stay the night, which you quite enjoyed. The house itself was a quaint seaside complex, with his sons helping him run the family cockle business, his daughter studying at Oxford. Him and his current wife, Mai, provided a hearty english breakfast to fill you up before the trip to Sealand the next day.

To get to Roughs Tower, you had to take a private boat. Micah regaled you with tales of his youth which involved piracy, fighting other pirates, and beating back the Royal Navy. You were sure those were exaggerations, but you weren't there to confirm or disprove tall tales.

Equipment packed and people on board, the ride was considerably smooth, a nice hour's ride over the calm waves under the slightly cloudy England sky. Near the end of the hour, the concrete and steel structure you saw in images and videos grew to encompass your whole vision. The sheer size of the Tower was only diminished by the fact that this was somehow an entire nation, at least nominally speaking.


You ascend onto the platform the only way there was, by way of a pulley system, which Micah described as "don't fix what isn't broken". You closed your eyes for almost the entire way up. Even if you're securely fastened and know the strength of the cable that linked you, the height, which had to have been dozens of stories, made you not want to look down. You peeked down anyway, and immediately shut your eyes until the crew pulled you up fully and onto the deck. The rest of the equipment was lifted by way of what you see is a winch, and you all managed to scale the entire length safely.

"Well." Micah pats himself off, Mai beside him in an elegant red dress. "Welcome to Sealand! I know this might not have been what you were all expecting, but as the Prince here, I will do everything in my ability to have your needs met. I can provide a tour after unloading your items, if you so wish?"

You, still wobbly from the ascension, shake your head. "I'll be fine, just need a bit of a breather for the moment."

Beside you is Martine, who helps you stabilize your balance. "Perhaps I'll come with. Maybe check the lab and help set it up."

"I'll take up your offer, actually." Emil lifts his duffel bags. "Right after dropping these off at our rooms."

"Understandable." Micah nods, turning to Lucien with a slight bow and smirk. "How about you, Lord Crown?"

"That's... I almost forgot I had that before contacting you again, Prince." Lucien has a goofy smile on his face. "Think I'll take a look around, see if anything has changed since I last was here."

"It certainly has been a long time, Lucien. Your father was a good friend, and we've certainly kept you in our books all the meanwhile." Micah extends his arm over to Lucien, who accepts and they share a short half-hug. "We don't provide passports anymore, but honorary citizenship is still available. Titles are also available, if any of you'd like to become a lord or lady like your friend here."

Him and Lucien laugh, which you all join in. Robert and Samuel help with moving the cargo and aiding Lucien in walking. You follow Micah and Mai to your quarters first, making your way across the main deck of Roughs Tower. Taking note of the few guards on board, you see many were not visibly armed. You could, however, tell they had training and likely access to whatever armory a self-professed nation would have. Especially when you hear about Micah's exploits in his youth, fighting alongside his father against mercenary invaders.

You weren't sure whether it would make you feel more or less safe, but each guard looked friendly enough, with an average tacticool kind of dress, on the practical side. They gave waves and smiles, with Micah greeting each of them like someone would greet a neighbor in a small town, asking about their day and family. That made you feel slightly better, but something still felt off. It might have been the descent into one of the massive pillars you saw when approaching from the sea, which was nicely renovated from its original purpose as a naval base. Bright LED lights attached to walls, leading down into a staircase, with another being a large cargo elevator, which you all manage to fit in, along with the equipment being carted in a large stack. The elevator was brightly lit, the same LED lights shining and illuminating the 6 floors visible on the panel. Each was marked with a label like "Living Quarters 1" or "Dining Area". You quickly reach your living quarters on the second floor down, which you all gladly pour into. The hallway is still reminiscent of the wartime-era layout you had seen in textbooks, decorated with warmer sea-related tones and with little knick knacks like decorative anchors and paintings of ships.

In your room, you find an actually spacious place, explained by Micah to be part of his father's plan to turn the military-era barracks into more hospitable living spaces. It certainly did the work, your legs thanking you for the brief respite while the others unpacked their bags for a half hour.

However, what you were interested in wasn't the sleeping area. So, with unloading completed and Martine helping you roll the cart of suitcases to the lab, you follow Micah, who guides your group back up the elevator, across the deck, and into the second tower. This one looks more sleek and sanitized than the other one, and according to Micah, the facilities are more administrative in nature. This included the medical lab, of course, which with a turn of a key on his chain, Micah led your group down to the 6th floor. It looks about as you'd expect a medical bay from a military base to look like, with the bare walls a slightly brighter shade than your own lab at home. It seems that the renovations of the other tower didn't touch this part as much, though the furnishing and security definitely seem like a post-war addition. Your group is led to a metal door with a scanner above its knob, the door having a single peephole at about head-height.

"We have multiple places in this tower restricted to specific peoples, as it contains many... sensitive matters. You know, national secrets and such." He chuckles, placing a keycard on the scanner, the beeping and green light causing multiple clicks and clunks sound off, finally ending and allowing the Prince to push it open.

You all ooh and ahh in honor of your host's generosity, but also in genuine appreciation that such a lab was able to be provided for you. Several long metal tables containing all the equipment and tools you needed to conduct bloodwork, sanitizing stations and supplies, and computer terminals that are actually of this decade. It truly felt like you were back at home, despite being a few miles off the English coast.

Lucien whistles, taking a gander all around. "Golly. I'm astonished you had all this available for our intrepid scientists on such short notice."

"Oh it was nothing, lad." Micah waves him off. "You actually are not the only researchers that visit here. A good country has its own R&D, of course. I've simply requisitioned the required materials you asked for, which was none too difficult. The medical bay is just the other way, so if you are in need of anything, we'll be able to provide it on short notice. I'll also provide you with a copy of the keys and cards to access the lab for as long as you are here, so you needn't look for me whenever the need arises. Just remember that it's a loan, so please do return them before leaving!"

You all say your platitudes and trade smiles, happy that it all is going exactly according to plan. Lucien and Emil leave off on their tour of the rest of Sealand with your hosts, leaving you and Martine to the lab, alone.

"So, Michael." Martine says, sipping on a thermos of aromatic tea. "How does it feel, being so close?"

"It's... I still question why we had to do this here, but it's safer among friends, I suppose." You shake your head. "Can't argue with those lawyer types, I swear. Also, that's not work-safe."

She swats your inquisitive finger away from her face, tilting her head in a most aristocratic fashion. "A lady shall consume her tea whenever she desires."

"Don't tell me you're buying a lady title or whatever Micah was peddling?"

"They're legitimate. I think. I didn't buy any, in either case." She hums. "Well, it's gonna be quite the week or so we're going to have here. Buried in work, enjoying the sea-nery, risking your life..."

You groan. "Firstly, that was terrible. Secondly, I've double, triple, I-- who knows how many times I've checked this over. It'll work. It has to."

"If you'd bet your morbs on it, then I can't convince you otherwise." She pokes your nose, causing you to shake your head involuntarily. "Boop. I'm sure Emil and I'll resuscitate you if anything goes wrong. I'd hate to have your mom and Lucien hunting me down with all that guilt."

"You're going to be fine." You flick her offending finger away. "I'll write it in my will that you get immunity from any consequences, how about that?"

"That's not how it works, but I appreciate the gesture."

"Maybe with all this over, and me on the road to finally getting this off my chest, I could just think about the rest of my life." You sit back in the rolling office chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. "Maybe create new cures. Make a fortune selling autobiographies. Maybe... us."

"Us..."

"Yeah. I haven't been the most attentive in our relationship, I'll be honest." You close your eyes and massage your nose, trying to force the words out. "I do recall people calling me a 'workaholic', which isn't undeserved. Really do want to do more with you, experience life. It's that this hunt for a cure has... consumed me, and it's taken this long to just see all the time spent, all the effort, could have been dialed back just a pinch."

"Is this some kind of apology?" Martine giggles.

You stop massaging and open your eyes back to the luminescent brights of the lab. "It is, partially. It's also me just getting this out of my mind before it makes me explode. It's also likely a way of me thinking about what might happen after I inject myself with the serum. No turning back, you know?"

"Scary stuff." Martine nods. "Anxiety, too. I'd say we spend quality time together, even if the quantity is lacking, as you say. Hey, we'll have plenty of time here, anyways. I know the work comes first, but if you want, I can drag you to do some R&R, for everyone's sake."

"That would be nice. I'd say, no more than five hours of continuous work? Whether I remember to take a break or you yoink me away. We could watch the sun set, enjoy a meal, chat... Whatever, just switching gears and not having the ol' noggin be too one-tracked."

"Make that four hours and we got a deal." Standing up and stretching, she extends you a hand. "We'll get through this together, Michael. To hell with doubt."

"Yeah. To hell with it." You grab her hand and stand up. It's time to get to morb.

<>

Over the next day or two, you sleep, eat, work, and occasionally are dragged off onto the deck to get some fresh air from the lab. The environment seems almost welcoming, despite being in the middle of the sea. The salty air tickled your nostrils, gulls cried overhead, and clouds constantly threatened rain that didn't come too often.

Emil's calibrations bore fruit as well, as machines were hooked up to the cushioned patient's table you'd be secured to shortly. Wires and tubes of varying sizes went to and fro, in a manner that bewildered Micah and Lucien, but which made complete sense to you.

Finally, the day had arrived. You, groaning after your most recent blood change, feel a soreness in your neck, turning left and right to try and get it out.

"Oh well, can't win 'em all." You shake your head in a doggy manner. "Let's just get this over with."

Martine helps you up onto the table currently tilted to allow you to step onto it and be fastened easier. "Let me know if any of these are too tight. We need to make sure you don't shake or jerk to injure yourself, but also not have them strangle blood flow."

"Not my first time, Doctor." You wink at her, coughing when you try to chuckle. "I'll let you know. Just bring on the needles."

"Best not rush treatments." Emil checks over the monitors while Martine finishes securing you. "Alright, so all the fluids are prepared. I'll let Martine take over, and stand by for now."

He presses a button that lowers the table, slowly letting you down as the ceiling meets your eyes, filling them with light and dull concrete.

"Breathe, Michael." Martine's voice sounds before her comforting face peeks over into your field of view. "We'll follow your instructions to the word. Stay calm, and you know the alarm if you need it."

You nod, seeing her face dip away to the controls and tools, as clinking and clacking noises ring out, indicating various needles being moved and keys being entered on the computers.

As seconds turned to minutes and you start losing count of the time, you close your eyes as the respirator mask is placed over your mouth and nose. An IV is attached to your right arm by Martine, who calms you with a latex gloved hand to your forehead.

"Ready? Injection one." She readies a syringe into your arm's IV, which you feel rustled around. Soon, the fluids slowly empty inside, nothing but the noises of breathing and beeping as everything seems to go as well as it could.

Then, you feel it. A twitch in your left leg, which you couldn't quite see, but felt a need to jerk around. It buckled against the restraints, followed by the right leg, traveling up your body until your whole body started involuntarily shaking. Trembling. The lab seemed to be engulfed in an earthquake, fear in your eyes radiating out as Martine and Emil's frantic voices grew more and more distant. The machine's beeping elevated, rapidly matching your vibrations, yet you felt no pain apart from the restraints themselves, digging into your skin. Your head tries to bounce against the pillow and belt holding your head still, rattling what perceptions you have.

"Michael--" Voices become echos, becoming background noise.

Fading, fading, fading into the dwindling light, until all that is left is the familiar feeling of suffocating stillness.

Cosmos. Asunder. Blood. Countless. Drowning. Immersion.

Floating endless, you find yourself... somewhere. Perhaps this is death. Instead of perceptions, you find concepts shifting and carrying you along, going from struggling against the respirator after your run-in with Big Johnson, to scrambling on all fours away from Tyler's middle-schooler fist, to digging into a fresh steak, on a romantic dinner with Martine that you had planned for several weeks in advance. Aromatics wafted into your nostrils, taste and texture flooded your mouth. But it all twisted into a stinging in your throat, piercing and raw. You convulse, but without a body to contort. Creeping up is the corruption of your limbs and organs, tearing at your sinews and vessels, the inevitable crawl of death once more reignited.

SO YOU HAVE AWOKEN.

Pain.

Again, nerves shooting up and down your body, clawing, gnashing. You fall forwards, eyes opening as you hit what must have been the floor.

THEN BEHOLD REALITY AS IT TRULY IS.

"Mmm..." You gurgle, staring at the floor, stained and sticky all along your contact with the floor. Pushing up, you lift yourself up and blink, trying to piece together where you were. The lights are off, but you feel your way up to a standing position, clutching a nearby wall for support. The drip-dropping of something in the room you were in sounded annoying to you, causing you to involuntarily swipe at the source, bumping your hand against a lumpy, hard... fleshy thing.

Jumping back, you yelp. The thing there didn't return any noises, however, and you could sense that it was a familiar shape and size. Human-sized, even.

That's when your other senses suddenly turn back on. Throat, clogged, coughing. Nose, soaked, overwhelming. Ears, sensitive, listening.

Morbius.

You retch, struggling to hold back before your body just takes over and unleashes the contents out before you. Every pitter-patter sounded against your ears, leaping to the skin on your legs and feet. Metallic tastes register on your tongue for the first time since you opened your eyes, hitting your head, causing your head to reel back before hurling again.

Fuck.

Your eyes adjust more and more to the dark, meekly tracing outlines of the room that was a lab you were sure you had been strapped securely to previously. The profile of a jumbled mess of limbs lies in front of you, and that's when the pieces link together, and you sputter.

No, no, no...

"Morbius." A woman's voice comes over the loudspeakers, of which you weren't aware of to begin with. "Doctor. There's been an... incident in the lab. We shall monitor the situation while making sure everyone and everything is accounted for. Please remain calm and await further instructions."

"M-Morbius..." That was the only word you could muster at the moment, thoughts consumed by the implications of what happened while you were under. Thoughts raced by, tailwind sweeping up any cognitive power you could muster.

Martine? Emil? Lab? Who was that? Who was this? All questions that bore hypotheticals, only serving to further heighten your anxiety.

Who were you?

You need to do something... right? You can't stay here. A dead body is a health hazard, and you need to get cleaned up.

"Morb..." You reach about for the wash station nearby, stepping over whatever fallen containers and computers laid strewn about the floor. When you reach the wash station, one pull of the handle showers you in cold, chilling water. Yet it doesn't faze you as much as you'd expect. Wiping your face and other parts of your bare body that were dirtied by substances you block from acknowledging, you start thinking.

Can't just stay here. I need to know what's happening. Perhaps pirates? Government? Micah did mention mercenary invaders in the past. They're keeping me with the dead bodies. Yes, that must be it. Maybe things aren't so good out there. I need to do something.

Then it hits you. You don't have your crutch. You blink, looking down at your barely clothed self, barely making out details apart from the fact that your hands were in front of you and you weren't leaning on anything. It felt alien, the sensation of putting strain on your left leg after so long. It didn't hurt, either. The pain of what you felt was the progression of the virus seems to have disappeared from your legs.

Silver linings.

What is your purpose now? All you can think of is to get out. But how? Walking out might be an option, but a pat of your pockets shows a distinct lack of pants due to your procedure. Perhaps you could search around, look for the keys, or just try to get the door open somehow. Or maybe just do nothing. You've already done God-knows-what, and some of your mom's meditation and prayer tips might help calm yourself down.

However you decide, the others are still out there. The voice on the speaker didn't sound familiar at all. It had a... monotone, strict sunday school teacher's tone, which didn't match any other woman who you had met in Sealand. Could she be a friend? Foe? Her words sounded somewhat concerned for safety, which was fair considering...

You shake your head. The anxiety will swallow you up if you keep going down that train of thought. Now's the time for action.

Choose 1:
[] Morb out. I must leave this room at any cost! Who knows what's going on out there! You can't negotiate with strange voices that come on the speakers!
[] Don't Morb. Staying where we are and waiting sounds good. I just had a horrible experience, and don't feel ready to screw things more than they already are.
[] Morb directly. Maybe a more direct approach is warranted. I could try to get the woman or her associates to come over and talk it out. I have pretty good people skills, I've given a speech in front of a live audience!
[] Write-in? A spark of morbin' brilliance hits and you get an idea...



><><><><

Welcome to the end of Act 1! It's finally morbin' time, and we have had little success "invading" Sealand, as it is, seemingly trapped in a lab of our own work. Could Morbius turn things around? Take the initiative, or wait for the right moment? It's all up to you!

The mysteries of Sealand, if you so choose, can also be in your grasp. How has this place lasted so long under British dominion? Why is the Bates' family so eager to let you into their ranks? When is it morbin' time? All questions can be answered, and more.

Updates are taking a bit long cuz of irl, so sorry for slow updoots 😔 Hope this all makes up for it! The pacing will be going down to a more granular level rather than week/month timeskips, so should be interesting with how it pans out!