Alpha Cell Complex: The Curse of the Fetidmire

[JA Wilders]

Opening scene - introduction of protagonist, setting, and tone, along with foreshadowing of the primary conflict (the "khrysos ubi vermis" was created by the antagonist, the Umbreytandis, or "King Fetidmire," to free his queen from the Alpha Cells, but of course Dr. Roth doesn't know that yet).

Dr. Eugene Roth was the last person to see the Head of Research alive. They stayed late at work on a Friday night in the Alpha Cell Complex, conducting tests on a new prisoner—a treasure-hunting monster composed of precious metals.

“You’re one spectacular little fella, aren’t you?” Eugene said, reaching into the experimentation tank and stroking the monster’s golden exoskeleton.

“The khrysos ubi vermis is nothing spectacular, Dr. Roth,” said the Head of Research, Dr. Hector Emmanuel. He shined a penlight down the arthropod’s throat, illuminating spongy turquoise tissue. “It’s merely a transformation curse—a product of an intelligent-grade monstrosity with malicious intent, likely from a gobilenus pedigree.”

Eugene’s mind whirled with theories and questions, as he sought to understand the purpose and origins of the creature. He feared that failing to prove himself useful might result in being relegated to menial tasks, such as mopping floors and shoveling troll crap. The new prisoner presented a golden opportunity—an opening to rise in the ranks at the Supernatural Research and Defense League and manage a major project. Looking into the monster’s emerald eyes filled him with a mixture of awe and dread. The banding pattern of its abdomen and the white pearl spots on its silver legs suggested it was once a monarch caterpillar, cursed by a goblin right before the pupa stage. The painstaking process of transferring gobilenus will and forging this exoskeleton required self-restraint, patience, and years to complete. The final product’s splendor was indicative of a master's power, leaving Eugene marveling at the sheer craftsmanship and malevolent brilliance.

“Mostly we define a monster’s intelligence based on their language capabilities, but is that really the best way, sir?”

“I’m not in the mood right now, Dr. Roth.”

Joining the league fulfilled a lifelong dream for Eugene, who grew up as an orphan, wrestling with an endless emptiness that fueled his hunger for knowledge and belonging. Impressing Dr. Emmanuel amplified his determination to prove himself worthy of being noticed, respected, and loved like a true son.

In recent days, Dr. Emmanuel carried a heavy burden. He lingered in the Alpha Cell Complex late into the night, temper frayed, his once tidy office now cluttered with garbage and unfiled reports; hushed murmurs circulated about him weeping in the supply closet. Weariness etched beneath his eyes, and an unmistakable pall of melancholy covered him like a shadow. Deep concern overwhelmed Eugene; something troubled his mentor—a secret concealed amid the enigmatic creatures of the Alpha Cell Complex, the mysteries of the supernatural intertwining with the complexity of his heart and mind.

Eugene’s attention returned to the khrysos ubi vermis. Pincers from slits in its labrum snatched a silver dollar and shoveled it down its gullet. It heaved and regurgitated it covered in mucus. Every valuable item placed in the experimentation tank met the same fate. Eugene timed each one’s disappearance as they fizzled and evaporated beneath mucus coats.

“Perhaps we can harvest this chemical,” Eugene said, collecting a sample of the acid mucus. “Our engineers might find some use for it.”

“They already do, unfortunately. It’s not an exclusive trait,” Dr. Emmanuel said. “The khrysos ubi vermis employs forchanitric, a corrosive produced in bulk by woodland goblins. It dissolves metals, gemstones, and other precious materials without harming living organisms or releasing noxious fumes.”

They needed to explore other avenues to demonstrate the new prisoner's value. If the cost of care outweighed financial gains, the Supreme Commanders of the Supernatural Research and Defense League would compel them to imprison the monster in a coma-tank—a death sentence that preserved the specimen for viewing like a trophy. Eugene was committed to preventing that outcome.

“I can't help but feel there's untapped potential within this creature. It's our responsibility to uncover its true capabilities,” Eugene said. “The goblin, or clan of goblins, who created it must have put tremendous effort into their work. We may have a far more dangerous situation on our hands.”

Dr. Emmanuel sighed, his weary gaze meeting Eugene’s tenacious eyes. “You've always been eager, perhaps too eager for your own good,” he muttered. “But your passion is admirable, and your logic is cogent, Dr. Roth. Let's explore further, shall we?”

The security footage from the Diamond Exchange played on an 80-inch monitor, displaying the chaos caused by the khrysos ubi vermis. With its glittering golden exoskeleton deflecting bullets and its silver legs skittering around the showroom, it vaporized a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of jewelry before HARP officers were able to immobilize and capture it.

“A goblin would have loved to possess those jewels. If the intention was to rob the Diamond Exchange, the khrysos ubi vermis failed on every level,” Dr. Emmanuel said, chuckling at the creature’s stupidity. “It triggered the alarms, destroyed everything its master desired, and got itself captured.”

“I don’t think its purpose was mere theft, sir. I believe it was performing the task exactly as its master intended—destruction of property, vandalism, chaos. That is its power. Imagine if it swallowed an enchanted heirloom that held a dwarven clan’s collective memory or infiltrated an elven arsenal before a major battle. Think of the devastation it could cause...”

Dr. Emmanuel's eyes widened, a mix of apprehension and realization crossing his face. “You might be onto something, kid. We may have underestimated the magnitude of this creature's potential.”

“We need to act swiftly and decisively to prevent further harm,” Eugene said.

“No, we don’t,” Dr. Emmanuel said, closing the holographic 3D data display, signaling that he had seen enough for the night.

Eugene surveyed the main gallery of the Arthropod Wing, marveling at the enchanted vivaria replicating various natural habitats: deserts, tundras, river valleys, and tropical rainforests, complete with weather features. Phinocerous sponoclopsis, magical bees whose hives dripped a wide variety of stimulant drugs for engineers to harvest; camuto homme, giant butterflies with the ability to replay human memories on their wings; and biriti malosisto, cricket monstrosities that stridulated melodies capable of bringing humans to euphoric tears—these creatures were nonlethal and easily manipulated for specific tasks.

Behind hobsteel dungeon doors, accessible only to those with higher security clearance, lay the lethal monsters of the Alpha Cell Complex.

“Thanks for letting me stay late again, sir,” Eugene said, stepping closer to a hobsteel dungeon door, hoping to see inside.

“You've shown dedication and promise, kid. While the khrysos ubi vermis may not be the right fit, I believe it's time for you to explore what lies beyond this gallery. It’s late, but if you're up for it, we can venture into a lethal-level dungeon before we leave.”

Entering the dungeon of a lethal monster was a privilege reserved for seasoned lab technicians. With only four months’ experience, Eugene appeared younger than his twenty-eight years, slim from veganism and marathon running. His ear-length dirty blonde hair, usually wild during city clubbing, was now neatly combed behind his ears for serious work. Adrenaline surged through his system, making his palms clammy. This was the moment he had eagerly anticipated—a chance to delve deeper into the Alpha Cell Complex, unveil its mysteries, and leave a lasting impact on the world.

“That would be spectacular, sir,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

“I wish I could restart, kid. I wish I could see the Alpha Cells as novel again, to call this or that thing spectacular as you do.”

Face to face, Eugene saw a possible, terrible future reflected in Dr. Emmanuel's tired features—hunched shoulders, a problematic lower back, a wispy cloud of gray hair, heavy bags, grave loneliness.

“The truth is,” Eugene said, “I’m nothing without this place.”

“Me neither, kid,” Dr. Emmanuel said, patting Eugene’s back with a heavy hand. “Me neither.”

Forty stories below ground, the Alpha Cell Complex extended for over 5,000 acres; above lay Goat Head County, what employees referred to as the real world—the world of monotony.

Dr. Emmanuel rolled up his sleeves, revealing bracelets adorned with microchips. He placed his head into the eye and facial scanner next to the hobsteel door.

“This panel moonlights as a guillotine, ready to decapitate an imposter,” he said. “Let’s hope I don’t blink the wrong way.”

A red light flashed above the hobsteel door, and it slid open. The putrid stench of rotting flesh assaulted Eugene as he stepped into the dungeon.

 

#

 

In the middle of the dungeon, a towering vivarium seized Eugene’s attention. Bones entwined gnarled trees that thrived in swampy terrain, creating a haunting spectacle. Dr. Emmanuel beckoned him to a secluded corner, hidden by a billowing black wool curtain.

“Stay out of view, kid,” he urgently whispered.

The curtain stretched the length of the room, concealing the laboratory's workspace. Dr. Emmanuel retrieved a manila folder from a nearby file cabinet and handed it to Eugene. The first page displayed a photograph of the Lassorecluse—a supernatural arachnid with fifty pearl-white eyes, a scorpion stinger, and legs curving like scythes. Despite the vivarium’s size, the creature—with an abdomen measuring eight by six inches and legs spanning roughly a foot—appeared no larger than a golden retriever.

Dr. Emmanuel approached a cage filled with white bunnies and carefully lifted one into the cradle of his arms. He transferred the unsuspecting bunny into a feeding chute, prompting Eugene to peek out from behind the curtain. On the other side of the chute, the bunny landed in the waterlogged terrain of the vivarium, splashing mud onto its pristine white fur. From the upper branches of a cypress tree, the Lassorecluse swiftly launched silken threads; they sliced through the air with alarming speed and snapped like whips, ensnaring the bunny, coiling tightly around its midsection until its bones snapped.

The Lassorecluse hoisted the carcass to a branch and injected it with poison from its scorpion tail. The white fur sizzled away, dissolving into pale flesh, while a rash erupted, festering with welts and oozing pus. The pungent stench of decay permeated the air.

“This creature inhabited the Goat Head Mountains a few years ago,” Dr. Emmanuel said. “HARP discovered over five hundred different creatures in its cavern, all suspended in web cocoons, decomposing like forgotten relics of a sinister feast. Among the victims, twenty-six were human... twelve were children.”

Eugene emerged from the curtain, drawn to the grotesque yet captivating scene. The Lassorecluse had claimed a sixty-foot cypress tree as its morbid domain and decorated the swamp with intricate sculptures built from bones, using its webs as adhesive. One sculpture, on a rock pedestal, was an assemblage resembling Dr. Coffer, the renowned Head of Arthropodal Studies, complete with bulky glasses, dangling earrings, and a lab coat ingeniously crafted from bunny rib cages.

“The venom secreted by the stinger triggers a bacterial reaction that preserves the meat like jerky. Though the Lassorecluse requires a meager amount for sustenance, its insatiable appetite for gathering food knows no bounds,” Dr. Emmanuel said. “Driven by primal instincts, it stockpiles for survival. As it stands, there are enough carcasses hanging from these trees to sustain it for over a year.”

The creature's white eyes locked onto Eugene.

“If we were to introduce a hundred bunnies into the cell, the Lassorecluse would slaughter each one, dismember them, and play a twisted game of Tetris to efficiently arrange the grisly remains around the cypress tree,” Dr. Emmanuel said.

The Lassorecluse whipped its web at Eugene, striking the vivarium's glass with crisp intensity, relentlessly attacking and seeking to ensnare him like a helpless bunny. Frustrated by its failed attempts, it leapt into the air and hissed, venomous stinger poised and ready. Violet foam oozed from its stinger, splattering against the glass. When that failed, it crawled back onto a tree branch and gazed at Eugene with its piercing white eyes.

Riveted toward the creature by an unseen force, he touched the vivarium. He closed his eyes, attempting to break free from the enchantment, but found himself inexorably moving forward, pressing his cheek and arms against the cold glass. Just as he reached the point of no return, Dr. Emmanuel pulled him back behind the safety of the curtain. The cacophony of the savage lassorecluse—a symphony of poison shots, snapping whips, and furious hisses—reverberated throughout the laboratory.

Eugene’s mouth went dry, his nerves jangling. Despite successfully navigating the Supernatural Research and Defense League’s rigorous academic, physical, field, and surveillance tests, he found himself unprepared for the horrors concealed behind the dungeon door.

“Why do they keep it alive in a vivarium? What purpose does it serve?” Eugene said, panicking.

Dr. Emmanuel opened a nearby cabinet filled with sorcery-shooters and shelves of spell bottles. “We harvest its webs to capture monsters in cocoons. Mark my words, Dr. Roth, these webs come in handy. They immobilize enemies while keeping them alive.” His voice was shaky and weak. “Even colossals find themselves trapped in these unbreakable strands.”

As Eugene approached him, Dr. Emmanuel’s lips trembled, as if in agony, and his legs buckled. Eugene caught him by the arm, offering support.

“Sir, can you hear me? Are you hurt?” Eugene knelt beside him and checked for a pulse.

Dr. Emmanuel's heavy hand slid surreptitiously across Eugene’s chest, depositing an object into the inner pocket of his lab coat.

“Trust no one, kid,” he whispered, his breath labored and suffused with whiskey.

The weight of Dr. Emmanuel's warning echoed in Eugene’s mind: Trust no one, kid. The spell bottle, containing a lassorecluse web, felt solid and cool in his lab coat pocket—a tangible reminder of conspiracy. The collapse must have been a charade intended to fool the surveillance cameras.

With Eugene’s assistance, Dr. Emmanuel pushed himself back onto his feet.

“Sorry, Dr. Roth. I didn’t mean to scare you. I suppose I too succumbed to the hypnotic allure of the Lassorecluse,” he said, firmly grasping Eugene’s shoulders and guiding him toward the dungeon’s exit. “Let's depart this wretched place before it takes its toll on our sanity.”

[Brady Hart]

Absolutely love the worldbuilding here. Super cool creature ideas and good names, too! I love your ideas. 

[JA Wilders]

Thanks, Brady! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Dr. Roth and the monsters also say thank you!