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Since it was only a matter of time until SOMEONE wrote a fanfic, right?
I've got a fascination with the bad guys. The heroes are nice and all, but behind every villain, you want to know how they ended up the way they did.
I was thinking about Oosterhuis the other day and about his past, and I don't know how or why, but I felt inspired to write a fanfic for it. Finished it yesterday, and I felt like sharing it, so myeah. XD
Leave some criticism if you feel like it, but if not, just tell me what you thought, okay? Here goes.
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Nobody, Ever Again
by Gwen Smit
Oosterhuis had never been one for dramatics, but he had to admit that the weather suited the horror movie scenario in front of him. Thunder and lightning raged on while an innocent boy was strapped to a table (pool table, but either way) in the evil scientist's hideout. Though admittedly, the lakehouse was different than what one would picture at that.
The red-haired boy stirred slightly, face twisting in pain. He was waking up. The kid was going to be in a world of pain in a few minutes, if the test subjects were anything to go by. Then again, most of them had at least one disease running through their system before his tests – syphilis, HIV, hepatitis – so maybe it would be different for a healthy teenager.
Hm. Maybe he had to get a blocnote and a pencil, for future reference.
As he glanced at the boy, though, his thoughts weren't with the redhead (what was his name again? Jason?), wondering if he was allright. No, Oosterhuis was thinking of someone else entirely.
Erica. Dear, sweet Erica.
And the people who let her die.
It was a beautiful summer day. Temperatures were soaring. Both Søren and Erica had the day off, and Erica had suggested swimming. There was a lovely lake nearby, and the city council had created an artificial beach there for the people to go, since it was cheaper than building a swimming pool. Erica loved swimming, so Søren agreed quickly.
And yet... there was something off about Erica. Something clinging to what she was doing, for fear of letting her thoughts wander. It... frightened him.
“Søren...” Erica whispered. “I've got something to tell you.”
His heart sank.
“I've been to see doctor Kayson. He said...” Erica swallowed, staring at a patch of sand. “He said... the results came back. From the biopsy. The results...”
No. This wasn't happening.
“...the results were not good,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “Søren... I'm dying.”
Inoperable. It was amazing how doctors could say something like that without a sign of emotion.
Chemo round after chemo round, yet all they could do was slow the cancer down. Doctor Kayson said that only 15% of women with stage 3 cervical cancer survived.
Oosterhuis didn't need to hear the statistics, damnit. He was well aware of them.
No. This could not happen. He would find a way to stop this. He would.
“What do you mean, we can't test it?!”
Mr. Emera, the leader of Ovid's cancer research department, sighed. It had been only a matter of time before Oosterhuis came knocking on his door. After all, he'd talked to every other authority figure he could find.
“Oosterhuis, I'm sure someone has explained this to you before,” Emera tried. It was a futile attempt, he could recognise one if he saw it, but he had to try. “The serum is still new. It might cure cancer, but you and I both know what it did to the mice. If we inject it into anything, it turns the poor creature inside-out or worse. We need to think this through. Can we make serum 43 into a working cure or should we find another way?”
“And what good is that?!” Oosterhuis spat. “People are dying out there, people we could save if – if we figure out what's wrong with the serum, and –”
Emera sighed. “Oosterhuis, I know how you feel. Every last one of us here is desperate to find a cure for cancer. But you can't rush into testing just like that. Think about it, man –”
But Oosterhuis was already gone, slamming the door behind him. Emera stared at the door, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
The room was small, but completely clean. It had to be. Erica was so fragile now, she wouldn't be able to stand dust.
She was asleep. She slept a lot. She told him the chemo therapy was tiring, though he suspected that she was giving up. That's why he hardly ever left her side, why he'd brought her back home again. Remind her there were things worth fighting for. It wasn't working.
When the heartbeat monitor indicated that her heart had stopped, Søren just sat there, unmoving. After what seemed like an eternity, he let go of her cold hand, brushed the hair out of her face, which, though gaunt, still resembled the Erica he'd fallen in love with.
“Erica...” He took a deep breath. He had to tell her this, even if she couldn't hear it anymore. “Erica, I promise you. I'll make Ovid pay for what they did, letting you wither away.” He took a step back, giving the lifeless body one last look before calling the coroner. Oosterhuis murmured, “I'll find a cure for cancer. No one will ever have to suffer the way you did. I promise, Erica, nobody, ever again.”
Flying solo turned out to be more difficult than he'd imagined, though. The experiments went fine by himself. He knew exactly what he was doing, no discussions with teammates necessary. But when it came to stealing Ovid's research to advance his own, they had friends and family and if he as much as showed his face, there would be guards rushing up. Yes, he could probably kill them all, but there was still a risk of getting shot by someone while he was killing someone else. He needed allies. Someone to distract them, to fight them, while he quietly spirited away the serums and data and whatnot.
And Oosterhuis knew exactly where to find people he could mould into the perfect little obedient fighters.
He had found a job as a high school Chemistry teacher, masquerading as Richard Reynder. He would look for promising young students, excelling in some way or another, different from the rest. He had a few students that caught his eye, but he chose this boy – Jason Quinn – because he was a natural leader, intelligent, and (most importantly) he would fight for Reynder's cause if he wrapped the truth in a few layers of lies, phrasing the truth delicately and a healthy dose of creative storytelling.
The boy would be a lion, with control over the earth itself. He'd created the serum with that idea specifically in mind. Strong and regal, the characteristics a leader ought to have, and the boy would be a leader – the leader of the group Oosterhuis was assembling. Panthera. His own highly trained assault team.
Oosterhuis had waited for years, biding his time, waiting for revenge on Ovid. This was going to be the day his grand plan would unfold, and his medicine could be perfected.
Erica, the love of his life. He would do it in her honor. No one would have to suffer ever again because Ovid waited and researched and philosophised instead of acting.
On the table, Jason Quinn stirred, opening his eyes, murmuring something that sounded like, “Where am I?” Oosterhuis had failed to mention this when he told Jason about the Outing Club that 'Reynder' was organising. Oh, he'd learn soon enough. He'd learn.
Locking away his memories in a dark corner of his mind, Richard Reynder stepped forward to tell poor Jason all about Ovid and their evil tests on human subjects no one would ever miss and that he would have to fight to stop them. This was just the beginning.
I promise, Erica, nobody, ever again...
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My Tumblr account. Look at me, moving slightly with the times.
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