Train rides are always exceptionally boring, Dr. Hadjaz thought to himself, fighting hard to stay awake. He couldn’t quite bring himself to trust the man sitting across from him, his supposed partner in crime. They had both been hired by the same mysterious stranger, The Epitaph, but that bond was of little worth. After all, they had both been chosen because they were the most ruthless artisans in their respective fields.
Dr. Hadjaz’s traveling companion called himself the Dancing Hippo, and rightly so. The man was a true behemoth, a rippling monolith of a henchman. He looked as though he could eat literally eat a horse in one sitting. Dr. Hadjaz wasn’t sure about where the “Dancing” title came from and didn’t really care to know any details. The Hippo claimed he was wanted for murder in over one hundred countries, but Dr. Hadjaz wouldn’t believe him before he did a thorough background check and had some serious data points. Even if that rumor weren’t true, Dr. Hadjaz would have bet his first-descended testicle that it would be a terrible idea to cross The Hippo.
Their cabin was suited for four passengers, fitted with a pair of red, velvet-lined loveseats across from each other. The Hippo filled both seats on his side easily, with no room to spare. Despite being so monstrous, the henchman was dressed well in a white button up shirt and brown dress slacks. His tiny green bow-tie, speckled with white polka-dots, seemed intentionally ironic, but Hadjaz didn’t dare ask. The Hippo had combed his hair immaculately, gelling it in place with obsessive design and far too much fixative.
None of this really bothered Dr. Hadjaz; he’d worked with too many kinds of low-life to be put off so easily. He had led a vigorous, noble life of medicinal research until a few years ago, when he realized that his time was slipping away and he was yet utterly unfulfilled. So, he decided to play Anonymous, signing up as The Good Doctor. The opportunities for research offered by playing the game were much more satisfying than the offerings of academic pursuit. The Doctor had worked for a few low-level players before realizing just how high his powerful brain could fly. As his ambitions grew greater and greater, he left the organizations of his employers in flaming rubble and flew like a phoenix ascending. This current assignment with the Epitaph was his greatest achievement yet, though he was certain things would only get better. To protect his identity, he designed himself an insignia, a purple winged man, representing his love of the Daedalus and Icarus. Though his everyday life flirted with danger, Dr. Hadjaz used cold logic to make sure he never flew too close to the sun.
No, Dr. Hadjaz had spent too much time in the heart of the game to be bothered by the Hippo’s odd appearance and demeanor. What really dug at The Good Doctor was the silver briefcase. The Hippo held it tightly between his great hamfists, refusing even to store it in the luggage compartment. “The Hippo’s only letting go of this to The Epitaph his-self.” His commitment to completing his mission was admirable, if incredibly simple-minded.
Dr. Hadjaz had been hired specifically to examine whatever was inside the briefcase and he had no idea what it might contain. It could be a code for some ancient fortress, a weapon to melt the thickest armor, an elixir of immortality, or any number of other things. The Epitaph had given no clues, claiming only that it was “extremely entropic.” The Good Doctor tried to think of other things. He dreamed of women he had known, of projects he had completed, and of lands he had traveled, but the briefcase kept sneaking in at the edge of his thoughts. Hadjaz began to grow tipsy with anticipation; he was not a doctor known for his patience.
Before devoting his life to the game, Dr. Hadjaz had run several labs. He had hired grad students and other research technicians to perform his research; he was usually too busy brainstorming his next project to do any experimentation himself. If an assignment wasn’t yielding results within a few days, he claimed his staff was moving too slowly and the scheme was scrapped. He would replace all his scientists and start again on a new project. Luckily for his academic career, his strongest asset was creativity, so he had no shortage of alternate schemes to investigate. However, all his plots drove towards one ultimate goal, the betterment of mankind. The Good Doctor cringed to remember such a sterile existence; his life as a criminal genius was infinitely more intoxicating.
There are too many hours left in the train ride, Dr. Hadjaz started to shift anxiously in his seat. Not knowing what was in the briefcase, not being able to plan, expand, and extrapolate, and not getting his way was driving him stir crazy. His brain was on fire! He needed to initiate a plan to get his hands on that briefcase. He leaned forward, put his hands on his knees and stared directly at his associate.
“So, my dear partner, Mr. Hippo, are you ready to let me have a peek into that case yet?”
The Hippo didn’t bother to look back at Dr. Hadjaz. “The Hippo already told ya, you’re not going to get a look. The Hippo’s only going to give it to the Epitaph. Stop asking before ya get The Hippo upset, sah.“
“Now, listen to me,” Dr. Hadjaz said, getting quickly annoyed, “We’re supposed to work together, and it is my job to work with whatever is in that case. You must give it to me immediately!”
“Do ya think The Hippo cares? The Hippo only answers to the boss. The Epitaph is the boss, not ya, sah.”
The Good Doctor rolled his eyes and sputtered a sigh through his tight lips. Extreme loyalty, tremendous strength, and simpleton intelligence. All these things made the Dancing Hippo a perfect henchman; they also made him an intolerable partner.
The Hippo had searched The Doctor before allowing him onto the train, on the Epitaph’s orders. However, he had only been ordered to search for weapons, which Hadjaz did not usually carry. He packed a much more dangerous variety of items of his own invention. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and began to nibble on its end.
“Hmm. You see, that attitude is going to be quite a problem. If we’re going to get along, we need to trust one another, right? I don’t feel very much trust in this cabin.”
The Hippo refused to reply; he simply stared at the bit of air directly behind the Dr. Hadjaz’s left earlobe.
The Good Doctor smiled impishly. If that was how it was going to be, then he could play along. Dr. Hadjaz didn’t like to put his cards down before it was absolutely necessary, but the situation was driving him up the wall. He took the pen from his mouth and stuck his arm out towards the Hippo. He closed his eyes and clicked the pen’s button three times. A light at the tip of the pen emitted a flash of green light, rapidly followed by flashes of pink light and green light in a highly complex pattern.
“Good Hippo,” Dr. Hadjaz commanded, “You will give me that briefcase and you will be happy about it. You will work with me from now on, instead of against me. It is in your best interests to do so. For all intents and purposes, I am your boss now. Got it?”
The Hippo’s expression hadn’t changed. His typically serene face looked exactly the same. Dr. Hadjaz was worried; his brow twitched and leaked tiny beads of sweat. Had something gone wrong? Was this massive monster immune to his hypnosis device?
The Hippo extended his arm, briefcase still attached, to the middle of the cabin. “Yes, sah, The Hippo obeys.” He dropped the case onto the floor.
The Good Doctor smiled a genuine smile, like a child on his birthday, and quickly scrambled to pick up his treasure. “Thank you very much, dear friend. I think we’ll be getting along just fine from now on.”
He opened the case while short of breath; his heart beat quickly, pitter-pattering with excitement. Inside the case he found six syringes, all containing an unknown clear liquid, all labeled BioMod36B. The vials piqued the scientist’s interest; his Faustian soul was yearning for knowledge about this strange solution. An insatiable urge to explore the serum’s magic filled his very fibers. In a day or two, he would have a lab to himself where he could experiment to his heart’s content. On the other hand, he had a willing test subject sitting across from him.
“Hey there, Hippo. To celebrate our new friendship, I have a little game to play. Are you interested?”
“Yes, sah. The Hippo likes all sorts of games, but especially chess.”
“Ah, well. Very good then. This is going to be just like chess. Just sit tight and close your eyes, alright?”
The Doctor took one of the syringes and checked it for bubbles. There was no use killing off his patient before he got his data. After he was satisfied the injectible was safe, the Doctor walked over to the Hippo and placed the point of the needle against the Hippo’s neck.
“Bon voyage.” Dr. Hadjaz inserted the needle into the Hippo’s jugular and pressed on the plunger until the entire contents had been administered. Dancing Hippo sat through the process with little more and an uncomfortable grunt. Dr. Hadjaz wasn’t concerned about the dosage; his patient was big enough to require a whole flask of cough syrup to see any effect.
The Doctor returned to his seat to watch his experiment in motion. Nothing happened for several minutes; the Hippo blankly stared at that same sector of empty air he loved so well. After about a quarter of an hour had passed, the Hippo silently conked out.
Perhaps the dosage had been too great after all? Maybe the specimen was dead! The Good Doctor panicked for a second-and-a-half; the Epitaph would surely be upset that he’d killed a fine henchman. He quickly shook off the worry and began to think rationally. The Doctor didn’t believe the serum was just meant for killing a foe or for making someone pass out; there was too little chaos involved in either act, though they were both quite villainous. Even so, one vial might have been too much for the Hippo to handle.
Just as Dr. Hadjaz was making a mental note of the failed experiment, the Hippo sat straight up, stiff as a board. His eyes were bestially wild, entirely opposite from their usual tranquil-pool state. A strand of drool began to run out the corner of his mouth; his whole body was quaking rapidly, as if he were being electrocuted. He shuddered and quivered and made quite a racket. He whooped and hollered, shouting out sounds only vaguely reminiscent of words. A small, spherical growth appeared on his neck, at the point where he’d been injected with the serum. It grew rapidly, inflating like a fleshy water balloon. When it was the size of a tennis ball, the tumor detached from its host and bounced to the center of the cabin; the Hippo passed out once more.
Dr. Hadjaz stared at the small lump of flesh with terrified eyes, fascination locking his vision in place. This was unfamiliar territory for the scientist; he was witnessing a miracle of sorts, something that didn’t make sense. Things were happening before him that bent the laws of science in ways he had not imagined possible. The ball of cells continued to grow, changing shape as it expanded. It slowly morphed its shape, taking on the features of a small child. After a half an hour, it looked like a young man, distinctly overweight. As it continued to expand and mature it looked more and more like the Hippo asleep behind it.
A bifurcation serum! Dr. Hadjaz couldn’t believe it. It was a serum that could replicate the test subject. It seemed unreal. He closed his eyes and shook his head, planning to wake up from a mad dream. He though this must be the product of some long-dormant dementia. When he opened his eyes it confirmed that he was living in a nightmare. The cloned Hippo was prodding the original, trying to wake him up. The original begrudgingly regained consciousness and was surprisingly calm about what he saw.
“Hello, The Hippo,” said the newborn clone, “Are ya feeling all right?”
“Oh yes, The Hippo,” spoke the original doppelganger. “The Hippo was just napping! The Hippo feels much better now.”
Dr. Hadjaz was contemplating jumping out the cabin window when a wayward fist rapped at the door. Hippo Number Two opened it to reveal the train car’s attendant. The stiff young man pushed a pair of thick-rimmed glasses further up his nose before trying to speak.
“I’m sorry to bother you but I heard a commotion. Um, weren’t there only the two of you before? Hey! Are you trying to scam us?” He took a noble stance and puffed up his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to alert my boss.”
The two Hippos shared a quick glance before grabbing the attendant’s arms and pulling him into the cabin.
“No, sah. That won’t be necessary.”
They picked the boy up and swung him as hard as they could through the cabin window. The attendant disappeared with a crash and a scream, and Dr. Hadjaz decided he was glad he hadn’t gone through the window; the train was moving quite rapidly, after all. The cabin was stiflingly silent for several moments afterward; the only sound came from wind whistling through the broken window.
The new Hippo put his finger to his lips, wrinkling in his chubby brow to indicate deep thought. The Good Doctor realized that this clone wasn’t under his hypnotic spell and it worried him. The air in his mouth turned exceptionally dry.
“Hmm,” the doctor said, laughing nervously, “There isn’t enough room in here for all us, is there?”
Dr. Hadjaz spent the rest of the train ride nestled in the lap of Hippo Number Two, wishing that he could be back in his old university lab, performing research on the mundane and uninteresting.
