Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

character, maybe. “Clean up the mess and start over with a new batch.”
    “I like this bug.” Ivar sighed, dark red brows furrowed behind the Oakleys. “I’ll give it a few more days.”
    Lothair wanted to shake his head. He didn’t dare. His friend would kick his ass if he thought for one second he wasn’t 100 percent on board. Not that he wasn’t. He hated humankind as much as, if not more than, Ivar, but…
    All the science stuff was above his pay grade. He didn’t understand it—wasn’t sure he wanted to—but Ivar loved the shit: playing with viruses that would scare the piss out of human doctors, never mind the best biochemical experts in the business.
    To what end?
    The extermination of the human race.
    Stupid insects. The assholes were killing the planet with their greed and neglectful attitude. Global warming. Entire rain forests laid to waste. The oil spills, nuclear power plant leaks, companies spilling toxic chemicals into lakes and rivers…into the fucking sky. Where he flew every night. If they didn’t wipe the humans out soon, there would be nothing left to save.
    “I’ll get another batch of humans together. Strong ones with healthy immune systems.”
    Ivar scowled at him.
    “Just in case,” Lothair murmured, not pushing his luck. His commander was touchy enough already. Ivar liked fast results and positive outcomes when his babies (aka superviruses) were involved. “I’ll get some low-energy females to throw into the mix too.”
    “Good idea.” Pushing away from the wall, cradling his injured arm, Ivar limped over to the bank of computer monitors. A couple of quick keystrokes and the screens went active, scientific data, spreadsheets as well as the video feed from the chamber, coming online. “Vary the ethnic backgrounds as well…Latino, Caucasian, Asian. You name it, toss it in there. I want to test exactly what kind of RO ratio we’ll get for both male and female.”
    Lothair frowned.
    “RO ratio?” Ivar raised a brow, enjoying the science lesson. “Rate of infection.”
    “The faster, the better.”
    “Not necessarily.” Fingers flying, his friend tapped a command into the keyboard. A spreadsheet complete with a pie graph morphed on the screen. “We need an infected human to stay alive long enough to spread the contagion to at least five or six other people. We want a global, systemic epidemic. An untreatable one.”
    “Deadly with a extra dose of kick-ass.”
    “Exactly.” Ivar’s mouth tipped up at the corners.
    Lothair grinned back, then turned his attention to the humans caged inside the chamber. Some were coughing. One was passed out on the La-Z-Boy recliner. Two were playing Xbox, a version of Halo. He loved that game. Would probably play some himself before he hit the sheets for the day. But first? Eats. He was as hungry as hell.
    Filching an apple from the basket, he bit into the red, juicy, and delicious. As the sweet taste hit his tongue, he glanced sideways at his friend. Jesus, even with his injuries half-healed, Ivar was in rough shape. He took another bite and murmured around the mouthful, “Two high-energy females are in the house, Ivar. You should feed.”
    His friend nodded. “You’re coming with me.”
    Without a doubt. No way would he let Ivar go alone. His commander liked killing females too much. Would drain one of the coeds dry if Lothair wasn’t in on the action. His balls fisted up tight as he swelled behind his fly. He could do with some action right now. Particularly after the goat-fuck his night had turned out to be.
    He tipped his head toward the door. “Let’s go now.”
    “Tell me about our other project first.” Turning away from the computer, Ivar ass-planted himself on the lip of the desk.
    Ah, hell. Here it came. His confession and talk of the breeding program.
    So not what he needed right now. He’d hoped to Zen Ivar out with an energy feed first. No such luck. The male was too savvy. Was reading his level of pissed off and making the right conclusion. The one that had shot-to-hell written all over it.
    Lothair sighed. “We ran into a snag tonight.”
    “Shit.”
    No kidding. Losing another high-energy female didn’t bode well. Not for him. Not for the breeding program Ivar wanted operational, oh, say…yesterday.
    Designed with one purpose in mind, the program was simple. At least in principle. Dragonkind males didn’t produce female offspring. Why? Something about a vengeful goddess and a curse, but…whatever.