The partnership deal with the Fourth District was soon coming to an end. Peck had forgotten to check up on him more times than not recently, content that the cash was flowing in and not worrying about the rest. Gil had gladly used this reprieve to divert resources towards his own research rather than focusing on one hundred percent production.
The assistants had finally lost their uneasiness at the doctor's methods. Their half troubled, half queasy faces contorted as each inhumane experiment was inflicted on their patients. Never before had the fishman had access to such a wonderland of a laboratory. He could follow his nose wherever it took him in regards to his medical research. As long as he was making money for the men at the top, few questions were asked.
One problem that had sprung up, were a dwindling number of volunteers to undergo treatments. They had tried reaching out beyond the district for people, increasing the payment and lowering the bar for health. He was beginning to scrape the bottom of the barrel. See, word had gotten out that this particular job wasn't exactly the best long term investment. Gilbard didn't intend to damage them, it just sort of 'happened' along the way. You couldn't expect him to turn down subjects that came knocking on his door and begging to be tampered with, could you?
This particular problem could have probably been avoided for the most part if Gil hadn't been so forward with his methods. Due to the particular place that he was on his story line, he was experiencing unchecked emotions brought on by stress. About to bubble over like a jug left on the stove top. Everything was coming to a head. The war against Mother was continuing to rage and the preparations for the attack on the World Government submarine was entering its final stages. It seemed like his whole life had been leading to this point. So when it came to his research, he couldn't help but push the boundary.
"Mrs... Hiddlestone. Lay down on the bed."
He was down in his laboratory below street level. He had a date to meet with Jackal today but he wanted to squeeze in one more procedure. With all the time he had been spending on his research and all that had been going on, the two had not conversed much even though they had been on the same ship a lot of the time. However today was a scheduled meeting in which he would rather not miss.
An aging woman hobbled over to the hard plastic bench that was no substitute for a bed and got up onto it. She was in a sealed room, away from the rest of the lab. This was the quarantine room, something that Peck realised was quite necessary once he realised that his business partner had been letting pathogens loose on the general public. However the quarantine room had been outfitted for a particular procedure. Today he was testing a new chemical weapon. One born from inspiration after meeting the two new recruits to the Calico Pirates. They had both not been keen on the idea of letting a virus wreak havoc on Mother and had instead wanted to take a head on approach. Gil had adapted his plan, albeit begrudgingly at first. The idea was for what he was developing today to be useful for crowd control. The Ball that was slowly approaching would surely be a grand affair. If he could cut down the numbers of the public and possibly any nuisance reinforcements through a product of his then why not.
"Masks on. Do not enter the room unless I say so." The assistants that stood by his side had learned by now that listening to the scaly doctor in these times was in their best interest. "Mrs Hiddlestone, how are you feeling?" She nodded and jabbered something incomprehensible. The old lady was some retired matron that lived in a run down apartment with her umpteen cats. She had tried telling Gil the tales of how Mittens was a wonderful cat that could fetch her slippers in the morning. She soon stopped once Gil had responded by producing a sewing kit with the very real intention of sewing her mouth shut for the sake of peace and quiet. Unfortunately for the old lady, her hands shook and her mind faltered now and then. She couldn't work any job and was left without an income. Without any family to rely on, the woman had sold whatever she could to keep food on the table for her and her kitties. But alas, she was no rich woman. And so with nowhere left to go, she had resorted to selling her body to the fishman doctor. Her eyes lit up and her toothy mouth crinkled into a smile when she recieved that first wad of beli. She would go down to the fish market to buy Mittens a special treat to celebrate, she said.
"Releasing chemical." Gil pulled a lever and a mist descended upon the old lady. Nothing happened for a second. The observers held their breath. Itch. Another. Two more scratches. The old lady whimpered a little. This gas stimulated the sensory organs present in animals. It stimulated them to such a degree that they were rendered incapacitated. Or at least that was the theory. She moaned and then hiccuped. The hiccup turned into a convulsion. She rolled from side to side, her eyes blinking as they turned blood shot. Her hands ran over her body as they tried to free her skin from the horribly peculiar sensation. She gurgled, her throat filling up with the gas. She wretched, expelling gastric acid up through her mouth. So far so good. This was it, he was sure he was onto something with this. Non-lethal yet impossible to ignore.
The experiment took a sudden turn. Mrs Hiddlestone screeched once about her eyes between convulsions before her fingers flew into her eye sockets. Gil noticed the irregularity straight away. He pulled another lever to suck the gas away through an air vent. "Stop her." He ordered his assistants. They scrambled into the room but they were too late. Still, they grabbed her arms, stopping her from doing any more damage. The old lady had suddenly felt something in her eyes. The gas had made her eyes itchy to the point that it was torture. In that moment, she had experienced a drive like none other. She wanted to satisfy that itch that lay behind her eyeballs more than anything she had previously wanted. So she relieved herself of that itch by driving her fingernails through her eye sockets and into her skull. Gil was amazed to say the least. It had all happened so fast.
... It looked like Mittens wouldn't be fetching any more slippers. He would have to wait on that fish dinner too.
"Thank you for your work. Clean up and we will continue tomorrow." Gilbard left the mess to his assistants. He continued to refine the chemical to rectify the issue until it was time to leave. Pleased with what was basically a finished product at this point, Gil headed out to meet up with his captain. He packed up the tools he had been using as well as a concentrated, liquid form of the chemical and stored it safely.
On the way back to the boat, he stopped. Then he changed direction. He found himself at the market, buying a freshly caught cod and returning it to Mrs. Hiddlestones residence. He opened the door and chucked it inside before leaving. He wasn't exactly sure why he did that, but he didn't bother to dwell on it.
A while later, he was aboard and waiting for Jackal to arrive. He leaned against the railing, staring out at the salty expanse.
The assistants had finally lost their uneasiness at the doctor's methods. Their half troubled, half queasy faces contorted as each inhumane experiment was inflicted on their patients. Never before had the fishman had access to such a wonderland of a laboratory. He could follow his nose wherever it took him in regards to his medical research. As long as he was making money for the men at the top, few questions were asked.
One problem that had sprung up, were a dwindling number of volunteers to undergo treatments. They had tried reaching out beyond the district for people, increasing the payment and lowering the bar for health. He was beginning to scrape the bottom of the barrel. See, word had gotten out that this particular job wasn't exactly the best long term investment. Gilbard didn't intend to damage them, it just sort of 'happened' along the way. You couldn't expect him to turn down subjects that came knocking on his door and begging to be tampered with, could you?
This particular problem could have probably been avoided for the most part if Gil hadn't been so forward with his methods. Due to the particular place that he was on his story line, he was experiencing unchecked emotions brought on by stress. About to bubble over like a jug left on the stove top. Everything was coming to a head. The war against Mother was continuing to rage and the preparations for the attack on the World Government submarine was entering its final stages. It seemed like his whole life had been leading to this point. So when it came to his research, he couldn't help but push the boundary.
"Mrs... Hiddlestone. Lay down on the bed."
He was down in his laboratory below street level. He had a date to meet with Jackal today but he wanted to squeeze in one more procedure. With all the time he had been spending on his research and all that had been going on, the two had not conversed much even though they had been on the same ship a lot of the time. However today was a scheduled meeting in which he would rather not miss.
An aging woman hobbled over to the hard plastic bench that was no substitute for a bed and got up onto it. She was in a sealed room, away from the rest of the lab. This was the quarantine room, something that Peck realised was quite necessary once he realised that his business partner had been letting pathogens loose on the general public. However the quarantine room had been outfitted for a particular procedure. Today he was testing a new chemical weapon. One born from inspiration after meeting the two new recruits to the Calico Pirates. They had both not been keen on the idea of letting a virus wreak havoc on Mother and had instead wanted to take a head on approach. Gil had adapted his plan, albeit begrudgingly at first. The idea was for what he was developing today to be useful for crowd control. The Ball that was slowly approaching would surely be a grand affair. If he could cut down the numbers of the public and possibly any nuisance reinforcements through a product of his then why not.
"Masks on. Do not enter the room unless I say so." The assistants that stood by his side had learned by now that listening to the scaly doctor in these times was in their best interest. "Mrs Hiddlestone, how are you feeling?" She nodded and jabbered something incomprehensible. The old lady was some retired matron that lived in a run down apartment with her umpteen cats. She had tried telling Gil the tales of how Mittens was a wonderful cat that could fetch her slippers in the morning. She soon stopped once Gil had responded by producing a sewing kit with the very real intention of sewing her mouth shut for the sake of peace and quiet. Unfortunately for the old lady, her hands shook and her mind faltered now and then. She couldn't work any job and was left without an income. Without any family to rely on, the woman had sold whatever she could to keep food on the table for her and her kitties. But alas, she was no rich woman. And so with nowhere left to go, she had resorted to selling her body to the fishman doctor. Her eyes lit up and her toothy mouth crinkled into a smile when she recieved that first wad of beli. She would go down to the fish market to buy Mittens a special treat to celebrate, she said.
"Releasing chemical." Gil pulled a lever and a mist descended upon the old lady. Nothing happened for a second. The observers held their breath. Itch. Another. Two more scratches. The old lady whimpered a little. This gas stimulated the sensory organs present in animals. It stimulated them to such a degree that they were rendered incapacitated. Or at least that was the theory. She moaned and then hiccuped. The hiccup turned into a convulsion. She rolled from side to side, her eyes blinking as they turned blood shot. Her hands ran over her body as they tried to free her skin from the horribly peculiar sensation. She gurgled, her throat filling up with the gas. She wretched, expelling gastric acid up through her mouth. So far so good. This was it, he was sure he was onto something with this. Non-lethal yet impossible to ignore.
The experiment took a sudden turn. Mrs Hiddlestone screeched once about her eyes between convulsions before her fingers flew into her eye sockets. Gil noticed the irregularity straight away. He pulled another lever to suck the gas away through an air vent. "Stop her." He ordered his assistants. They scrambled into the room but they were too late. Still, they grabbed her arms, stopping her from doing any more damage. The old lady had suddenly felt something in her eyes. The gas had made her eyes itchy to the point that it was torture. In that moment, she had experienced a drive like none other. She wanted to satisfy that itch that lay behind her eyeballs more than anything she had previously wanted. So she relieved herself of that itch by driving her fingernails through her eye sockets and into her skull. Gil was amazed to say the least. It had all happened so fast.
... It looked like Mittens wouldn't be fetching any more slippers. He would have to wait on that fish dinner too.
"Thank you for your work. Clean up and we will continue tomorrow." Gilbard left the mess to his assistants. He continued to refine the chemical to rectify the issue until it was time to leave. Pleased with what was basically a finished product at this point, Gil headed out to meet up with his captain. He packed up the tools he had been using as well as a concentrated, liquid form of the chemical and stored it safely.
On the way back to the boat, he stopped. Then he changed direction. He found himself at the market, buying a freshly caught cod and returning it to Mrs. Hiddlestones residence. He opened the door and chucked it inside before leaving. He wasn't exactly sure why he did that, but he didn't bother to dwell on it.
A while later, he was aboard and waiting for Jackal to arrive. He leaned against the railing, staring out at the salty expanse.