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Remington Agnes's Blog Entry


Blog Entry
Tuesday, Sep 18, 2018
The Past
    August 19th, 1986

    "Doctors Agnes," the physician smiled at the joke, her eyes alight with the excitement of news, "the in vitro took this time. You're pregnant."

    Lizzie gripped her husband's hands, hardly daring to believe her ears. All those failed attempts, they meant nothing now, in the face of this spectacular gift. They were pregnant. Her tear-rimmed blues found those chestnut hues she loved so much. They mirrored her surprise, but also her love and admiration.

    They embraced.

    "Also, it seems it's twins..."

    September 16th, 1986

    "We work in a lab, they really wouldn't mind..."

    "Alan, love, it's fine. I'm fine. I'm sure it's nothing." Even as she spoke, her hand went to her stomach as she stifled a moan of pain. Each cramp, worse and worse as they got, heightened her anxiety, try as she might to hide it from her husband.

    By lunch, it had grown unbearable, and she weakly conceded to Alan's insistance that they get an ultrasound and see what was going on. They had waited for so long, Lizzie loathed to upend their excitement so early on. But pretending something wasn't happening only goaded the problem, and she was no longer able to deny that things were out of place.

    "It's really no trouble," the friendly physician reminded her for what had to be the fifth time. Lizzie gritted her teeth, feeling the reassuring hand on her shoulder offer a light squeeze. A smile was plastered to her mouth, hardly met in her electric gaze.

    A dollop of cold gel was applied to her abdomen, and she shivered involuntarily. The room was silent, until they heard the soft beat of a singular heart. Three sets of eyebrows pressed into hard lines, and no words were exchanged as the second was sought after.

    The physician produced a hum of confusion, scratching her head and pressing all the harder, as if pressure would find the second child. "It would seem that the baby has absorbed the twin. Not uncommon, especially for in vitro. What's important is that you have a healthy, growing baby inside you. So far, so good."

    Lizzie and Alan exchanged smiles, though there was a hint of sadness behind both expressions.

    September 19th, 1986

    "All I'm saying is it seems...unusual, right?"

    "It's really not, Lizzie. Plenty of studies have been done where in vitro fertilization is concerned. A lot of the time, twins will appear, and a lot of the time, one will be absorbed." It was three in the morning, and they were sat up in the kitchen while Alan prepared scrambled eggs and chicken broth for his wife's cravings. He had learned from the beginning that questioning Lizzie Agnes' preferences when it came to food only made her emotional. She didn't understand why she needed certain things, and for some reason, it was a touchy subject.

    His chestnut gaze would fall to the woman he loved, an unknown force seizing at his heart almost painfully. "Trust me, sweetheart, all is well."

    She smiled, blatantly unsure.

    November 10th, 1986

    Across the expanse of the bed, she spread herself, rubbing at her slighty swollen abdomen. Those waves of bloating, occasionally coupled with painful cramps, were tiresome and it showed in the lines of exhaustion on her face.

    "What have you been eating?" came the line of questioning from the bathroom, and worry laced every word.

    "You know what I've been eating," she snapped aggressively, instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry... I'm just tired. This is much harder than I thought it would be."

    The man paused in the doorway, worry creasing his forehead as his soft eyes took in her pained form. It broke him to see her like this, with no help for it. Though, ever the dutiful researcher, he found that it wasn't common to latch onto one food in its entirety, and she'd chosen eclectic variances of chicken throughout.

    He kept the nuance to himself, if only for the time being.

    December 25th, 1986

    "You want leftover fried chicken? For breakfast? Don't you get tired of chicken?" Alan tried to keep the exasperation from his tone, but just seeing how much chicken based foods she'd eaten lately had probably turned him off the stuff for good.

    "Please, dear? I know, but it just sounds so good." Lizzie knew her winning smile would get her what she wanted, and she only pulled it out on such occasions. That, and she was already changing the subject, in form of a flourished blanket she pulled out of a neatly decorated box. "Look, I made the baby a blanket, what with all that free time I have now..." The bitterness was cleared from her throat, and it was no secret that Lizzie's bedrest drove her mad.

    While the breakfast of champions reheated, the man traced the stitching in the corner. "R.A.A," he murmured fondly, brushing a threatened tear quickly from the corner of his eye, "So you're set on it then?"

    "Remington Alan Agnes. I think it'll do nicely, hmm..."

    January 27th, 1987

    Four in the morning found Alan wheeling his ailing wife through the quiet halls of the lab they worked in. Her fingers clutched at her dressing gown, the swollen stomach protruding oddly. There was something much more...deflated about it.

    His heart raced.

    There was no time to wait for an operator, he simply had to know now. He was trained well enough in its use, and as a doctor - of science, but still - he knew all the procedures. So the ultrasound was performed.

    A lot of searching ensued, in which the only thing that popped up on the screen was a strange, egg-shaped mass. "W-where is he?" Lizzie's question was frantic, and Alan had to stand to stop her from grabbing at her own pregnant abdomen and clawing it open. Over the course of the past few months, she'd grown more and more frantic, and while most of that could be attributed to the pregnancy itself... he wasn't sure all of it could.

    "Calm down, love, I'm sure it's fine. Let me just try again, okay?" His gaze, calm as ever, bore into hers, willing her to relax. And she conceded.

    An odd shift of her stomach ensnared both of their attentions, and Alan in particular couldn't meet his wife's electric blues again. She'd been complaining, especially lately, of strange movement, followed by cramps and painful stretching. It seemed uncommon, even for how the child progressed.

    Shaking himself, he would clean up and start over, if only to ease both of their minds. The second ultrasound was satisfactory, showing them their child who showed wonderful signs of growth and movement. Perhaps growing a little quicker than expected, but a healthy boy, nonetheless.

    Yet, Alan still couldn't shake the strange shift and the real panic in Lizzie's gaze...

    March 20th, 1987

    "Alan? Alan!"

    Stress had him running up the stairs, as they'd had quite a few close calls. This pregnancy had been extremely hard on Lizzie, who took it all in stride. Constantly, she reminded him that it was a small price to pay for their dream, and it would be over soon. Constantly, he had to force a smile and beat down the sense of dread that had taken hold of his very being.

    "What is it?" he demanded breathlessly, his frantic gaze searching her form.

    "Oh, darling, are you alright? I didn't mean to startle you. I'm just... I'm starving."

    He breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the doorjam for support. "Eggs? Chicken noodle soup?"

    "Actually," she would grin, almost sheepish, "steak. Rare as possible."

    The man blinked, confused. The entire pregnancy had consisted of chicken. Now, she wanted steak? Even before the pregnancy, it was never rare. Practically burnt to a crisp, in fact.

    "Of course. I'll have it for you in no time."

    March 21st, 1987

    A blood-curdling scream ripped through their home in the early hours of the morning. Alan leapt out of bed, heart rate beating a painful dance into his chest. "Elizabeth!" She'd fallen to the ground, doubled over, clutching at her stomach.

    "Something's wrong. You need to get him out. Now, Alan, now!"

    There was an unsettling calm to her demand, and though he felt a heavy weight in his very being, he obliged.

    Twenty minutes later, they were in the hospital, a team of specialists at their bedside. Lizzie's forehead was beaded with sweat, her skin pale, and she was barely present. "Something is killing her, Doctor," they explained as softly as they could, "we need to try and save the baby. It's what she would have wanted."

    A wracking sob courses through his body, but he nodded. They left him for a moment, allowing him his peace. A quick kiss was pressed to her forehead, followed by another sad, lingering one. Professing his love and adoration and devotion to their child, he resigned himself.

    A steely demeanor overtook him, and he marched into the operating room. "That's my child," he silenced the room before they could even protest, and not a word was uttered against him.

    "Doctor, you should know..." The nurse helping him prepare hesitated, considering his words carefully. "The child... There's something strange about it..."

    As if on cue, something shot into the lining of Lizzie's stomach, stretching the skin at an unseemly angle. The life having almost completely left her body, she offered no reaction to what would certainly have killed her resolve. A hush fell over the room as they all stared forward, and it was the father that would lurch forward and, stone-faced, take up a scalpel and cut around the mass.

    What came forth from the incision was remarkable, indeed.

    "Is that...?

    "A calf's leg!"

    Alan could only stare, bewildered.

    He was shooed out of the room, unable to be of functioning help.

    Hours later, they finally approached him with a bundle of apprehensive joy. The baby within cooed and stretched its tiny limbs, one leg securely wrapped in a cast. It was hard to gauge the collective atmosphere of the group that brought forth the child, but it was something similar to astonished excitement.

    "Born with chimerism," his higher-up, Doctor Heller, explained. "He absorbed the twin in your wife's belly."

    Alan blinked, holding the baby with a cautious grip, his stare full of questions. "His leg..."

    The observation was cut off, and Heller pressed on excitedly. "Another symptom of his particular strain of chimerism. It would seem... He's an actual chimera. We think it has something to do with what he eats. The calf's leg was his!"

    The tittering of the science community surronding him was drowned out by his own thought process. The man could only stare down at his child, his son. He'd promised Lizzie devotion, and he'd expected it to be hard to love the child that killed his wife. But the baby - Remington - stared up at him with a mismatched gaze, one eye electric blue, the other chestnut brown, and he felt his heart swell impossibly.

    April 14th, 1991

    "Because he's unpredictable and incapable, Doctor Agnes, and that's all I'll say on the matter."

    Alan's jaw set, his clutch on the four-year-old in his lap tightening protectively. The child looked up at him with his mismatched eyes, his mass of impossible air acting as a pillow against his chest. "Daddy, it's okay. Visit tomorrow, okay?"

    "Every day, Remington, you know that."

    They rose from the chair in Heller's office, and though he tried to hide it from his small son, he was growing more and more apprehensive about their demand to keep the kid there. Yes, he was unstable, even unpredictable. But his diet could be adjusted, he would argue. There could always be adjustments.

    Bitterly, he wondered if they were looking to help Remington adapt, or simply see how far he could be pushed.

    Later that night, he tucked the boy into bed, pressing a kiss atop his head.

    "Some people here say I'm a monster, Daddy, but monsters are bad. Am I bad? Is that why I can't go home with you?"

    Tears pricked at the man's eyes, and with no allowance for regret, he scooped the child up and stole away with him.

    October 13th, 1994

    "I hate when you call me Remi, Dad. It's not my name."

    The boy's arm twitched violently, and Alan watched as he forced it down with a gritted expression. His own eyebrow c0cked. "That's new," he muses, closing the distance between them immediately.

    "Remi is just a shortened version of your name." Another violent twitch followed that observation.

    The boy glared. "It's not. my. name."

    "But you don't mind when I call you Rem?"

    "That's my name." Remington was plainly exasperated, his hand coming up to press at his temple. Lately, as Alan had observed, he'd been doing that, especially after a tough transformation.

    "Why not Remi." The same arm twitched.

    "Because it's her name."


    " sister."

    "You don't have a sister, Remington..."

    "She lives in my head. And when you say her name," he waved his arm limply, "she gets excited."

    The scientist is flabbergasted.

    August 9th, 2002

    "Rem, you can do it."

    What the f*ck do you know. You're barely an afterthought.
    I didn't mean that... I'm sorry.

    "Rem, you can do this. Why do you doubt yourself?" Alan sat across from his son's somewhat haggard appearance, though he'd really grown into his own. The massive amounts of hair were untamable, though the kid did his best to keep it tied back most of the time. "This is something we have to master..."

    "Yeah, Dad, but that's so much easier said than done, isn't it?" The man waved apologetically, ceding to Remington's anger.

    "...what does Remi have to say about it?"

    The teenager stiffened, casting another mismatched glare his father's direction before focusing all his energy on his arm not moving. He didn't do this all the time, as it took a lot out of him and made him feel incredibly guilty. But he was proving a point.

    Successful in his undertaking, he barely offered a smirk of accomplishment. "She seems to think I'm capable, too." He frowned. "Dad, I can inconsistently control two, maybe three thought processes at a time. Adding a fourth is just... I don't think I can manage."

    "We've already ruled out veganism, as you can't subsist on plant matter alone. Do you really want to suject yourself to one animal protein at a time?"

    Even the thought had Rem cringing; so much of his life had been spent with a lack of variety in the food department, and as an aspiring chef, it was less than appealing.

    He finally nodded his consent.

    February 3rd, 2003

    "You're really getting the hang of it. You can remain in control for a few minutes now."

    Rem was splayed on his back, chained to the floor of their soundproof basement, trying desperately not to move. Everything hurt after such an abomination of a pairing; chicken and beef, leading to a horrifying beast with large, raptorish legs and a pair of grisly horns shooting out of skull.

    The headache that ensued was obliterating.

    "Proud of you, brother."
    The soft voice chuckled in his head, and in the face of the pain, he would grin.

    His shackle was unlatching, and he sat bolt upright, his body protesting angrily. "Dad, what are you doing? We agreed on fifteen minutes, I'm not stable!"

    Remington's maddening father shrugged, his smile full of pride. "I have reason to believe you're not as unstable as you think."

    And, taken aback, Rem faltered.

    His subconscious ripped in four, leaving the helm open to anyone as the physical form split. His DNA was constantly shared with his sister, Remi, but she hardly had the ability to wrest control from the one who absorbed her cells. But now, it was split with the DNA of a chicken and a cow as well, and that left things a little more strenuous and tedious. If Remington couldn't force them into tangent, he lost any semblance of control.

    He blacked out.

    When he came to, everything was destroyed; his father's equipment, computers, the walls had taken incredible amounts of damage. But in the mass of all the chaos, right in the center, his father's gored and trampled corpse.

    Remington sank to his knees, all processable thought gone from his mind. Not even the ghost of his sister's voice could break through the silence.

    February 6th, 2003

    They came for him.

    It was never devolved how he was found, as his father had taken strict precautionary measures to keep them hidden. But when they found the young man, sat against the wall ten feet from the man's three day old corpse, he was gaunt. His eyes were sunken pools of sadness, and it was clear he hadn't eaten in days.

    "You are a monster."

    He nodded.

    "You are not fit for the outside world.

    He nodded.

    "We have a place for you."

    He nodded.

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