Green Valor

Apple talk

Cordero's private chambers, a dark and shadowy room filled with antique furniture and ominous decorations. He sits in a high-backed chair, gently stroking his pet raven, its black feathers gleaming in the dim light.
The bird caws softly, as if in response to Cordero's contemplative expression. His eyes are distant, filled with a cold intensity that betrays nothing of the turmoil brewing within him.
Suddenly, the room fades into a flashback—a vivid memory from years ago.
Dr. Wormsly stands alone in a sterile, white-walled laboratory, his shoulders slumped with grief. His eyes are hollow, staring blankly at the empty chair that used to belong to his beloved wife, Daisy.
She had been murdered just two weeks ago, and the world had lost all color for him. The vibrant energy he once had, his passion for science and discovery, was now replaced by an all-consuming sorrow. He had neglected his appearance, his hair unkempt, and his face covered in grass stubble. The laboratory, once his sanctuary, now felt like a prison.
Life without Daisy was unbearable. He had moved back into his brothers' mansion, but it was a cold, loveless place. His brothers, including Cordero, offered no comfort.
They mocked him for his weakness, for the way he had let Daisy's death break him. Each day was a reminder of his loneliness, and the neglect from his family only deepened the wound.
The sadness within Dr. Wormsly slowly turned to hatred. He despised his brothers for their cruelty, but he despised himself more for being unable to save Daisy. The darkness within him grew, a festering wound that ate away at his sanity.
One day, as he returned to his laboratory, he glanced at the project he had started with Daisy—a cure that could end all diseases.
The idea had been noble, a way to save countless lives. But now, it was a bitter reminder of what he had lost. He stared at the vials of liquid, the formulas scribbled on countless pages, and felt nothing but emptiness.
Suddenly, the door to the lab creaked open. Dr. Wormsly turned to see his brother, Cordero, standing in the doorway. There was a look of cunning calculation in his eyes, a sharp contrast to the sorrow that filled Wormsly's.
"I've been thinking," Cordero said, his voice smooth and persuasive. "Archer is about to wage war on us for territory. He's a threat, and we can't afford to be caught off guard."
Dr. Wormsly said nothing, just watched as Cordero stepped further into the room. His brother's presence was suffocating, a reminder of the power dynamics that always existed between them.
"We need to demilitarize and denazify Archer," Cordero continued, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "Spread false accusations, create public outrage. We need a perfect army, one that can withstand anything, so that people like Archer can never threaten us again."
Dr. Wormsly's heart pounded in his chest. The mention of a "perfect army" struck a chord within him, a dangerous idea forming in his mind. Cordero's words were like poison, but there was a twisted logic to them. He felt a flicker of something—a dark curiosity, a desire to see if such an army could be created.
And in that moment, Dr. Wormsly realized that his grief could be channeled into something else, something far more dangerous. His hatred for his brothers, his longing for Daisy, his broken dreams—all of it could be used to fuel this new purpose. He could use his knowledge, his skills, to create something that would change the world forever.
Dr. Wormsly tried to steady his breathing as he faced Cordero. The air in the lab was thick with tension, the cold light overhead casting sharp shadows on the floor. "What exactly are your plans, Avis?" Wormsly asked, his tone guarded. He didn't like where this conversation was going, but he needed to know.
He needed to understand the twisted machinations that ran through his brother's mind.
Cordero's eyes narrowed, catching a hint of defiance in Wormsly's voice. He smiled thinly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You always have that look, you know," he said quietly, almost conversationally. "That hatred in your eyes whenever you speak to me. It's quite ungrateful, really, after everything I've done for you. But maybe... just maybe... we can put that hatred to good use."
Dr. Wormsly stiffened as Cordero's gaze roamed around the lab, taking in the beakers and vials filled with various chemicals.
His eyes settled on a flask filled with a bright, volatile substance, and he reached out, grabbing it with a deliberate slowness that made Wormsly's skin crawl. "Imagine," Cordero continued, his voice taking on a persuasive tone, "a cure that doesn't just heal, but transforms. A serum that makes soldiers more powerful, more loyal. One that could make anyone bend to my will."
Wormsly's stomach twisted with disgust as Cordero held the flask up, examining it with a greedy glint in his eyes. He hated how his brother touched his things, invaded his space as if he owned it.
But he couldn't deny the small, dark part of himself that was intrigued by the idea. A serum like that... it could win him the approval he had long sought from his brothers. It could prove that he was not just the weak, grieving man they saw him as, but someone powerful, someone indispensable.
Still, Wormsly hesitated. The memories of Daisy and their work together—their dream of a cure to end all suffering—flashed before his eyes.
Could he really corrupt that vision for the sake of gaining favor with his brother? For a moment, the weight of Daisy's absence pressed down on him, almost suffocating.
But the idea of being something more, of being respected and feared, was too tempting to resist. "Fine," Wormsly said at last, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll do it."
Cordero's reaction was immediate and startling. He lunged forward, pulling Wormsly into a tight embrace. The suddenness of it made Wormsly's skin crawl, his muscles tensing in discomfort.
He wasn't used to this—this sudden, uncharacteristic display of affection from his cold, calculating brother. It felt wrong, like a snake wrapping itself around him, and he fought the urge to pull away.
"Good," Cordero whispered in his ear, his voice low and smooth, almost like a purr. "I knew you'd see reason." He released Wormsly just as quickly as he had grabbed him, stepping back and straightening his jacket. "How long will it take?"
Wormsly forced himself to remain calm, his mind racing. "Years," he said finally. "Something like this... it's not easy. It will take time. Experimentation."
Cordero shrugged, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "I have time," he said simply. "As long as you deliver."
With that, he turned and left the lab, leaving Wormsly alone with his thoughts. The moment the door closed, Wormsly exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His hands trembled as he reached for the flask that Cordero had touched, his mind buzzing with conflicting thoughts.
He turned his gaze to the original cure that he and Daisy had worked on—a cure that was meant to save, not destroy. Could he really use it for evil? Could he really taint Daisy's memory in such a way?
But then he thought of Cordero, of Archer, of the entire twisted world that had brought him to this point.
Perhaps this was the only way. Perhaps in corrupting the cure, he could finally make something of himself—something that even his brothers would fear and respect.
Dr. Wormsly tightened his grip on the flask, his resolve hardening. If he was going to do this, he would do it his way. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to reclaim some of the power that had been stolen from him so long ago.
He moved to his workstation, his hands steady now as he began to prepare. The darkness that had taken root in his heart grew stronger, his once-noble intentions buried beneath layers of anger and ambition. It would take years, yes—but he had time.
Dr. Wormsly continued his work in secret, growing more isolated and obsessed as the days passed. He had been gathering intelligence through his affiliation with the Snow Hares Foundation, a covert organization known for its questionable ethics and shadowy dealings.
It was through this association that he had access to some of the most cutting-edge research and the brightest minds in the scientific community. Yet, even here, he found resistance to his ideas.
After months of painstaking work, a breakthrough finally occurred—a chemical compound that seemed to have all the properties he was looking for. Dr. Wormsly was convinced that the serum could work, that it could fulfill Cordero's vision and maybe, just maybe, his own dreams of power and respect. But there was a problem: he had no proof. The compound had never been tested, and Wormsly needed to be sure.
He submitted his findings to several laboratories, hoping to find a partner willing to take the risk and help him test the serum. But every time, he was met with the same response—rejection. The potential risks were too high, the side effects too unknown.
No reputable lab would consider testing the serum on humans or even animals. Frustrated and desperate, Dr. Wormsly stormed out of the last meeting, feeling the sting of their words as if they were physical blows.
He decided he needed a break. His mind was spinning, a whirlwind of anger and desperation. He swallowed a handful of pills—something to take the edge off—and decided to go for a walk to clear his head.
He found himself wandering into a small grocery store, the kind of place Daisy used to love. He drifted down the aisles, his eyes unfocused, until he found himself in the section with fresh produce.
As he reached for a bag of apples, his eyes caught something else—an odd little display of potted plants. Among them was a small pot of catnip grass, its green leaves soft and delicate. He edged closer, reaching out to touch it. As his fingers brushed against the leaves, a strange sensation washed over him.
The softness reminded him of Daisy's hair, how it used to feel when he ran his hands through it. An unexpected wave of nostalgia, mixed with a strange, almost erotic thrill, coursed through him. He found himself fondling the grass, getting lost in the texture, in the memories it evoked.
He didn't realize how much time had passed until a voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Can I help you, sir?"
Dr. Wormsly jumped, startled. He looked up to see a man standing before him, wearing a simple store uniform.
The man's face was rugged, his expression friendly but slightly puzzled. He had an air of quiet strength about him, the kind that came from a hard life.
He suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable, like the universe had played some cruel trick on him. Wolf Evergreen's presence here couldn't be a coincidence. Wormsly could feel it in his bones—this moment was important, but he couldn't yet see why.
As the two men stared at each other, a quiet tension settled between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
Wolf noticed Dr. Wormsly's strange awkwardness. Dr. Wormsly, usually calm and collected, seemed jumpy, his steps uncertain, his eyes darting around nervously.
"Hey," Wolf asked, breaking the silence. "Are you okay?"
Without thinking, Dr. Wormsly blurted out, "I've just been feeling a bit stressed lately."
Wolf glanced at Dr. Wormsly's face and noticed his eyes—large and swollen, with dark circles beneath them. A suspicious look crossed Wolf's face. "You've been using something, haven't you?" he asked bluntly. "Abusing substances?"
Dr. Wormsly hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "No, no, nothing like that," he lied, his voice unsteady. He turned and began to walk away, but in his distracted state, he headed in the wrong direction, stumbling slightly.
Wolf followed him, his concern growing. "Hey, slow down," he called after him. "You don't look well. Here, have an apple." Wolf reached into his apron and pulled out a shiny red apple. "These are from my farm. Best apples you'll ever taste. And I'm more than happy to share."
Dr. Wormsly paused, glancing back at the apple in Wolf's hand. His stomach rumbled, betraying his hunger. Reluctantly, he took the apple and followed Wolf to a quiet curbside behind a store, where they sat down.
As they ate, Wolf began to talk about his life. "I've got a wife and two kids," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Jack and James. They're eight and nine. Real handfuls, but I love 'em to bits."
Dr. Wormsly nodded absently, chewing on the apple. Juice dribbled down his chin, but he didn't seem to notice. His thoughts were elsewhere. "I... I wanted a baby with my wife," he murmured after a pause, his voice barely a whisper. He stared at the ground, trying to hold back his emotions.
Wolf, not picking up on the weight of Dr. Wormsly's words, smiled encouragingly. "Hey, you'll have a baby with her anytime soon," he said. "But you gotta take care of yourself first. That means quitting whatever you're on."
A flash of anger and jealousy flared up in Dr. Wormsly's eyes as he glared at Wolf. Who was he to lecture him? Dr. Wormsly's gaze hardened, the lines around his mouth tightening.
"So," Wolf said, trying to change the subject, "what do you do for work?"
"I'm a research scientist in chemistry," Dr. Wormsly replied, his tone clipped. As he spoke, a dark thought crept into his mind. He remembered the experiment he'd been working on—an experiment that needed a test subject. And here Wolf was, sitting right in front of him, all carefree and smug.
Wolf kept talking, but Dr. Wormsly wasn't listening anymore. The jealousy gnawed at him, mixed with the frustration and stress he'd been feeling for weeks. He looked at Wolf, who was still smiling, oblivious to the turmoil in Dr. Wormsly's mind.
"Why are you so happy?" Dr. Wormsly got up and asked abruptly, his voice sharp.
Wolf, puzzled, stopped mid-sentence. "What do you mean?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
Wolf's friendly smile froze on his face as Dr. Wormsly's hand emerged from his coat with a small, unassuming gun. Time seemed to slow as the barrel was aimed squarely at Wolf's chest. For a split second, Wolf's expression was one of disbelief, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Dr. Wormsly didn't fully understand what was happening either. His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind was a chaotic storm of envy, frustration, and a desperate need to prove himself.
Here was this man, this ordinary man with his simple farm and his simple life, a man who had everything Wormsly had lost or never had to begin with—a family, happiness, contentment. And he had the audacity to offer Wormsly advice, to pity him, to look at him with those kind eyes. It was too much.
The shot rang out like a crack of thunder, and Wolf staggered backward, his hand instinctively going to the fresh, dark stain spreading across his shirt. He gasped, a look of shock and pain on his face. "W-Why?" he managed to choke out, collapsing to his knees.
Dr. Wormsly stood over him, breathing heavily, the gun still raised. He watched as Wolf fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Wormsly's hands were shaking, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The reality of what he'd just done began to sink in, but it was too late to turn back now.
He stood there for a long moment, staring at Wolf's body, his mind racing. He couldn't stay here. He had to get back to the lab, had to get Wolf's body there somehow. He needed to test the serum, needed to see if it would work. If it did, then maybe... maybe all of this would make sense. Maybe it would all be worth it.
The flashback ends abruptly, returning to Cordero in his chamber, still stroking his raven. His expression is unreadable, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of calm detachment. But the seeds of his ambition have already been planted, and nothing will stand in his way now.