Sergeant John Hammond held his breath, transfixed as he observed the twitching mass of flesh inside that small glass chamber.
It was a piece of spinal flesh that had been torn off from Specimen C11's back in one of its feeding sessions, which was only about the size of your average American football.
Just like any other part of the Anti-Sea Dragon's body, it was still regenerating, even after being clearly separated from the rest of its body.
And yet, despite that, it only regenerated to a certain point, and never went past that hard limit, as if halted by some invisible almighty force.
Which was a good thing, John privately thought to himself.
Because if it could regenerate with no clear limits, wouldn't that mean that every torn piece would all eventually grow back into a new Dragon?
Take for example the starfish.
Not many people know this, but if you cut a starfish's limb and just... let it stay as is, the torn limb would gradually regenerate and become a new individual starfish completely independent from its parent!
Of course, not all starfish were capable of this, only some specific species, but that was beside the point.
The idea of a huge hybridized dinosaur possessing the same ability to rapidly multiply was unsettling to say the least.
It probably wouldn't take more than a decade for the entire surface world to be filled with these things if that was really the case.
Luckily, Specimen C11's regeneration came from his axolotl DNA, not starfish.
As for whether this hard limit existed in the main body of Specimen C11, no such observations have been made thus far. So it most likely wasn't there, and didn't inhibit the main body's regeneration.
The reason that the scientists came up with on why the chunk couldn't regenerate more than it had already had was the lack of 'material' that was required to heal.
After all, flesh and bone couldn't just be created out of thin air, right?
ELEVEN's biology allowed for the rapid metabolization of food to reconstruct his damaged body parts, something that was thought to be impossible for a separated chunk that had no additional protein and other such materials to work with.
It was a clear-cut conjecture that made perfect sense given what they knew of the Dragon.
At least, it should have been.
Because the more they experimented with the piece of flesh, the more it started to become apparent that this wasn't the case.
First off, the flesh didn't deteriorate.
By all intents and purposes, it was very much still 'alive' by the barest definition of the word, or at least in some kind of suspended animation.
Even after weeks of being left alone with no preservative materials to keep it from decomposing, it just never happened.
There was not even a single visible sign of rot.
John suspected that if they were to remove the chunk from its glass containment chamber, it probably wouldn't even smell bad.
How odd was that?
In addition to its 'immortal' qualities, when they tested it by damaging it again and then providing biological materials for it to regenerate with, it had no problem doing so until it yet again stopped at the hard limit.
So clearly, the reason it couldn't go past this hard limit wasn't because of a lack of material, but something else entirely.
They initially thought that, perhaps Specimen C11 was incapable of regenerating vital organs and this hard limit was due to the lack of a digestive system.
This was the one weakness that they had theorized ELEVEN to possess, but it has never been tested simply because it was too risky.
Although it possessed two sets of brains, one inside the head and the other within its abdomen, there was no guarantee that it could continue functioning with just one set of brains.
There was absolutely no way they'd risk killing their strongest specimen just to see if it could survive being decapitated or not.
However, that assumption came into question when they began testing other body parts.
Back in Specimen C11's combat trial against the first batch of Skullcrawlers, one of them had successfully damaged his eye, and the pieces torn off from that wound had been collected for research.
And it was then that the so-called weakness came under heavy scrutiny.
The eye is directly attached to the brain, after all.
After the pieces had regenerated back and fused into an eyeball, it gradually started to regrow brain mass and functional neurons.
The amount was small—minuscule, even—and it quickly reached its hard limit before becoming anything close to a full brain, but it was something that utterly shook the scientists working on it at the time.
Specimen C11 was potentially capable of completely regenerating even its most vital organ!
So what exactly was this 'hard limit' that had somehow been imposed on Specimen C11's biology, and what was the real cause of it?
No one knew for sure yet, and the scientists had been overworking themselves to try and figure out the answer to no avail.
Although there was one other question that was born from this discovery, a theoretical scenario that they weren't sure what to make of.
If Specimen C11's primary brains were destroyed, and then its body regenerated a new set of brains, would it be the same individual or an entirely new individual with missing memories of its past life?
That would be catastrophically bad if it was the case since this new individual probably wouldn't have the previous one's mental conditioning and relationship with other specimens.
But that was a question for the future, and for now, the scientists were satisfied with safer experiments.
During these experiments, John was merely an onlooker or 'guard', if you could call him that, not an active participant.
As a sergeant, his rank wasn't high enough to be in the know for these things, but people tend to overlook the guard at the corner, so he actually received a front row seat to these experiments.
Of course, he was meant to be there so that he could help in the case of emergencies. Yet the thought-provoking concepts that these great men of science discussed with each other were a pretty cool bonus for the curious guard.
But alas, they would still talk carefully with him and the other soldiers around, so he had to fill in the gaps of missing information with his own theories.
The subject of Organizer G1 remained a quiet constant, one that tingled at his brain every time he heard about it.
What was it anyway?
What he had gathered by eavesdropping so far had been far from concrete.
It was frustrating and he was even almost tempted to sneak around the lab just to look for the answer.
But he didn't since that would be utterly stupid. Just the thought of his big frame hiding behind a few cabinets and trying to take a peak at the scientists' reports made hin chuckle internally.
Organizer G1 seems to be a type of 'miraculous' substance with 'ridiculous' effects, as well as the secret to the Dragons' creation.
This substance served as the metaphorical glue that bound their genetic structure from completely breaking apart due to how unstable it actually was.
After all, each Dragon possessed the DNA of more than a hundred creatures, with the majority of their gene donors being completely unrelated to one another.
It should have been impossible to create them with today's level of technology.
But with the presence of this Organizer G1, playing god became significantly easier for humanity.
When he put it like that, John couldn't help but agree that it was indeed ridiculous.
As for the specifics of how it was used in their creation, he wasn't too sure.
In addition, he knew that it was also somehow related to the Dragons' shared trait of regeneration from the first time he heard about Organizer G1.
They experimented with all of their flesh, and whilst the others also shared the trait of not decomposing, their regeneration was noticeably much slower and less potent than that of Specimen C11's.
During one of the experiments in which they exposed the pieces of flesh to certain external stimuli, such as electricity and intense temperature fluctuations, the scientists discovered another unusual trait shared by all the Dragons.
When blasted with controlled rays of gamma radiation, which had high enough radioactivity levels to cause immediate adverse effects on humans and most animals, the opposite had occurred.
Instead of rapid cellular collapse and cancer, the cells had somehow greedily taken in the gamma radiation and made use of it as an energy source, much like how plants 'feed' on solar radiation.
Not only did their rate of regeneration increase by leaps and bounds to what was thought possible, the flesh itself seemed to bloat and overcompensate in comparison to their original mass, which was indeed a side-effect, but one far less debilitating than what the scientists had been expecting.
This was a significant discovery.
After all, the Seattle Project's Dragons were meant to be used in conjunction with the nuclear weapons developed by the Manhattan Project.
If the Dragons could truly tolerate high radioactivity levels without being too greatly damaged, that meant they could still be deployed in contaminated zones saturated with radiation that was too dangerous for humans to venture in.
Something that the military would find great use for and thus, potentially expand the Seattle Project's budget even more.
However, John was clever enough to figure out that this must also be one of the properties of Organizer G1.
Which raised even more questions than it did answer them.
For example, was this substance manmade? Or did they discover it from somewhere exotic like Skull Island?
Personally, he felt that it might be a bit too mysterious to have been made by human hands, but there was always the possibility that it had indeed been the genius invention of some famous chemist.
In that case, it could probably also be used for medicine, or even to create super soldiers like the ones shown in those propaganda comic books.
Ah... it really would be quite handy if he could just ask.
Setting these thoughts aside, John glanced at the clock hanging from the far side wall.
It should be any second now that someone else would replace his post.
Although being in this laboratory was exciting and enlightening for his mind, the sergeant did not want to miss the main event of the day just because of his crappy luck.
And luckily, it soon came.
His walkie-talkie blinked to life.
"...Sergeant Hammond, report to Zone G immediately." The voice of his superior resounded in his ears as John could barely suppress his excitement.
Today marks the first deployment of a Dragon into the battlefield.
The war was at its peak and it was shaping up to indicate that nuclear weapons would be the definitive end of it. As such, unlike previously planned, they weren't going to use the Dragons during the war anymore, at least, not out in the open.
But they would be essential for post-war operations as America now held ambitions to become the world's most dominant super power with the Truman Administration at its helm.
Something that John felt internally conflicted about since he wasn't technically a true American at all.
Existential dread aside, he was nonetheless excited to see how Specimen C11 would fare out there.
Of course, he wouldn't be there to personally see it, but today he would be one of the men assisting in its deployment.
With that, he should be able to rightfully brag to his little daughter back home about working with actual Dragons.
He smiled slightly at the thought of her before moving on.
They were going to use the previous method of gassing the entire containment zone with Spirit Tiger spores to render the Dragons temporarily unconscious for transport.
Although one might consider that too much and say that the Dragons could fall ill from overdose, it was simply what they had decided on.
They couldn't take any foolish risks.
As for John's personal duties, he was there to watch out for and make sure the others didn't wake up as they transported Specimen C11 out of Zone G.
This would be the first time he would personally interact with the Dragons, and he was ecstatic, if not a bit anxious.
What if they woke up? A voice whispered in his mind.
Well, hopefully that wouldn't happen. John wasn't sure he'd survive to see another day if they did.
He made his way across the facility towards Containment Zone G. It was the shared zone of Specimen A7, Specimen B9, and Specimen C11.
The reason why they had been moved out of their original zones was to foster back the social bonds that might have withered away from their time apart.
It was also to see if their social dispositions as juveniles made it all the way to adulthood or if they had changed to a more solitary lifestyle.
Although the Dragons maintained their own separated living spaces, they regularly interacted with each other and had no territorial disputes to speak of, which was excellent news for all parties involved.
In fact, they seemed to be cooperating most of the time.
"So what's the situation looking like?" He heard General Thatch ask the nearby officer as John entered the viewing deck that was situated above the feeding platform.
As John settled into his station, he glanced over down below from behind the reinforced glass at the artificial savannah that had taken upwards of a few months to create.
It was incredible how much money was spent on the Seattle Project. Just the excavation alone had cost an enormous fortune that the sergeant doubted he would ever have in his entire life.
But well, that's just how the world worked. If one desired to play god and bring Dragons into existence, all that one needed to have was enormous wealth and the know-how to use it.
...Why is it so foggy down there? John's brows furrowed as he gave the lights that illuminated the containment zone a second glance.
They were bright and radiant, yet their reach was minimal now with the heavy fog that had covered the better half of Zone G's terrain.
It almost looked liked it was going to rain, which was ironic considering it was indeed raining up above on the surface.
"Well, sir. It appears that the fog is a direct result of Specimen C11's recent feeding session." The officer, whom John recognized as Abel Jones or AJ for short, answered curtly.
If that was the case, then it made sense.
After all, one of Specimen C11's special abilities was to create a foggy mist, which was a direct result of its boiling breath.
They had ensured that the transporting operation would be right after a feeding session with Skullcrawlers so that the specimens would be knocked out more easily due to their fatigue.
Still, John felt an eerie sense of... wrongness crawl up his back. He grimaced internally as he swore he saw a winged shadow flying in the fog.
"I see..." General Thatch considered the matter with a heavy gaze. "But I'm rather concerned that this fog will interfere with the efficacy of our Spirit Tiger spores, are there any measures to prevent this?"
"That's a valid concern, general. However, it's entirely baseless." One of the scientists, the same one that John remembered had accompanied them during the combat trial, said as he approached.
General Thatch raised an eyebrow at that, clearly skeptical. "How so?"
"We've tested it numerous times, and although strong wind updrafts can indeed impede the spread of the spores, Specimen C11's steaming fog cannot." He explained with a grin. "In fact, it might even help with the spread..."
"Is that so?" The general hummed. "Then that settles it. Let's not waste any more of our sweet time and proceed with the gas."
And so they did as the ventilation system connected to the containment zone quickly began to pour out with huge volumes of invisible hallucinogenic spores.
***
Thick chapter here, longer than usual cause I felt like it. What are your thoughts?
Comments and reviews will be appreciated! And don't forget our goal, we're close. Just need a few more Power Stones to beat those shitty ass AI stories.