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Asking questions about splicing was a dicey operation. People got edgy thinking you were either trying to screw with your own DNA, or worst in their minds, structure your own splice and likely using one of your teammates to do it. That meant finding some information on whatever the hell weird wolf puberty it was Caine was going through from some less than reputable sources without bringing attention to the pup, or Stinger finding himself snapping someone’s neck because they got the wrong idea.
So while the rest of the team was sleeping off a week long job with barely any sleep, Stinger was bolstering himself with some man made endorphins to keep him going for a few hours longer while he could be alone. He had his wings hidden beneath his jacket, but he’d be damned if he’d go into a place like this without his boots, which meant anyone taking a look would know exactly what he was, if not who.
He couldn’t think about that now though. He finally had a unit he could rely on, one with the resources and manpower they needed to get through any mission. If he lost the pup, they would be screwed. No one had his instincts, and he had yet to see anyone spliced that could pick up a sound like he did… even with larger ears. It wasn’t just the splice, it was the boy himself and he was needed. Even if he had been radical the last couple of days, irritable and snapping - sometimes literally - at those around him. Stinger thought he had it all handled making sure the boy got time where he was shown he was wanted and belonged, but apparently it wasn’t enough. Stinger just wasn’t sure what would be enough… and if he was willing to help with it even if he found out.
Course he waited any longer for this supposed expert to show and he wouldn’t be fit for conversation. The designer endorphs were doing well but eventually they’d wear off, and the only thing keeping Stinger from making his way to the bottom of a bottle was the knowledge that he needed to be back before the others even realized he was gone.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep (And blinking a bit too long for his own good), or maybe it was some other genetic sleight of DNA but one moment Stinger was alone at that corner booth and the next there was a slight man in a natty suit that was out of place for the dive sitting there across from him.
“It’s my understanding you’re having trouble with a splice.”
“No,” he growled, his frown etching his face with heavy lines. “We ain’t having troubles with him. I just need to know more about his kind.”
The suited man nodded, folding his hands on the table before him and staring at Stinger as if he could read his soul. “Not many of his kind are separated from their own. Likely for exactly the same reasons you’re looking for answers. You know that part of the splicing means that the genetically modified has, if things go right, some of the better traits of their genetic partner. Often these are for the sake of being a better soldier. Such as bees,” he said, lifting a hand to gesture. “Or wolves.”
“Yeah. I know all that. I also know that I have a unit full of splices and not one of them has ever shown signs like that. He’s cranky and irritable. He won't’ move but five paces from my flank unless I give him a direct order. It’s like having a damn kid except this one keeps snarling at everyone and I’m waiting for him to rip their throat out.”
“And he may likely do it,” the man admitted. “As for his attention to you, that one is easy. He sees you as his alpha, and he’s reacting in kind. For some the spliced instincts are stronger than in others. Some barely show them, while others embody them. It would seem your friend is one of the latter sort.”
Stinger didn’t like it but the shit made sense. Not that he had a clue what to do. He’d thought putting himself in that position would help Caine but he just seemed to be getting worse.
“So what? He’s constantly going to act like this? I didn’t think wolves always did.”
“Without seeing the behavior first hand, I would have to guess that he’s approaching maturity in his wolf DNA. I assume if he’s a soldier he’s passed it in human puberty, but those timelines can be different depending on the designer, the way they’re sliced and whatever prohibitors were used. At a guess, I would say he was likely inhibited to make him a better soldier, more solid and less prone to testosterone fits of aggression and violence as some lone wolves might give into when introduced to a new pack and said inhibitor is no longer working.”
Again, it made sense but Stinger wasn’t liking what he’s hearing.
“So what? We send him to the medbay to have this doohickey fixed and he’ll be back to normal?” For the value of what passed for normal for Caine.
“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple, Mr Apini. This doohickey as you refer to it is part of the splice, and genetically modified into his DNA. For him to have broken it, for lack of a better term, it means that either he has evolved beyond his genetic makeup, or something in his splice was handled poorly. If you return him to med, they are going to put him down. His body will be tested and explored, seeing to find out what went wrong so that the next model is better handled. “
“They’ll kill him? Because as a soldier he’s aggressive?”
“If he’s unmanageable, what use is he to them?”
“Right so, no taking him in. What can we do about it? His unit and not the government?”
“I admit, I’m not entirely certain, Mr Apini. It could be that he will outgrow it with time. Perhaps he just needs to find a mate and get the urges out of his system. There’s a reason though that wolves rarely work alone, Mr Apini. They need those pack connections to keep themselves grounded in the life of a soldier. Alone they tend to go one of two ways. Either they continue on until there is no choice but to put them down, or they withdraw. They fight their own urges, withdraw until they are nothing more than the killing machine that was desired. Heightened senses, hyperfocus, and nothing there but the urges to finish the job by any means necessary. They become fearless because nothing matters anymore. You can be assured this is why Mr Wise was put with your unit. They were looking to push him that to that edge and see if he survived the fall into nothingness but the mind of a soldier, and a killing machine.”
“Yeah well, they put him into my unit. We’ll find a way to help him.”
With that he pushed away from the table. The man held up his hand.
“If you somehow manage to do that, Mr Apini, I would appreciate that you contacted me. It would be helpful to know if there is a third way such splices may go.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Number one priority,” he added with a roll of his eyes, moving through the crowd and towards the door. A buzzing in his ear brought him up short just as his boots hit the sidewalk. Stinger practically slapped the side of his head.
“Stinger here.”
“Where the hell are you, Commander?”
“Private business. Why do you sound panicked?”
“Because I am. Get your ass back here. NOW! We need you.”
Already he was shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it aside and figuring he’d find another. His wings unfolded, delicate seeming, with the oblong shape of a dragonfly as they unfurled behind him, fluttering to as he started to run, boots glowing as he gained speed.
“What the hell’s going on?”
“It’s Caine! He’s bitten an entitled. I think… I think he’s killed him.”
Stinger’s curses were caught by the wind as he launched himself into the air, heading for base.