The Origin of the Infinity Soldier

This is the story to Domino's original personality: the Infinity Soldier.
In short, this is a prequel to Domino's story and tells of how the Infinity Soldier came to be and how it eventually assumed its' new identity: Domino.

Blackjack The Researcher:

Chapter 1

The Beginnings Of Infinity


The white, sterile lights where enough to cause a headache for a normal human, and the one that stood in the center of the room was no different. Wearing a darkened pair of goggles, the man looked at the containment pod which held a disfigured looking mongrel, then towards the chrysalis covered pod that lay dormant behind the glass of its' container. He then looked up at the cybernetic-humanoid that stood primly in front of him.

"You want me to do what?" The man asked, disbelief thick within the question.

"To make Us a weapon that fit the qualifications we specified. That is what We said, yes?"

The man shook his head. "Yes, it was, well I mean I thought it was...but how do you expe-"

"We do not care how you do it, We'll give all the necessary materials required to complete it,  but We expect it done."

An eye blink was his response.

After waiting only a split-second longer, the robotic hybrid did a heel-turn, and strode out of the lab, activating the locking mechanisms on the door as it shut.
The man sat staring at the door for a long while before he finally managed to move. He slowly walked over to a desk that sat cluttered and picked up a recorder. He then moved over to the rock-like chrysalis, and studied it.

"Specimen #208", the man said into the recorder,  "length: 1 meter, weight: 20.5 Kilograms, color: steel gray with a light shine. Status: Unresponsive."

The man walked to his desk, picked up a flask, and drank from its' continents.

He proceeded to the opposite side of the chrysalis, where the monstrous mongrel lay bound, mouth and feet, in the pod.

"Specimen #301, length: 3.78 meters, weight: 76.3 kilograms, color: blotched blue fur, with a single white streak down its' spine. Status: Unconscious."

He looked at the camera following his every movement, and the enormous clock that hung across the wall next to it. The timer had started. Six months. The deadline.

The man sighed, leaning against the frame. His stance exhibiting despair as much as his expression showed it.

"Well, my friends...my name is Dr. Fraijick, also known as Blackjack, and let me officially welcome you to hell."

He raised the flask to his lips and took another swig.

Chapter 2

The Road Into Hell


Blackjack awoke to the alarm going off, signaling the start for the day. He got off the cot in the corner of the lab, and yawned while rubbing his face. Looking towards his desk that sat parallel too the far wall, he saw his daily supply of food and hydration. Next to them, he spied the two objects that would be the real source of survival: a flask full of alcohol and an entire pot of coffee.

Stretching his numb legs, Blackjack trudged to the desk, and ate his breakfast and grabbed the flask and took a long draft.
Next he checked the statuses of the two specimens. #208, the chrysalis, still sat as it had when it had first came, three weeks ago. #301, however, was alert and eyeing him viciously. The eyes seemed to follow Blackjack as he approached the table, and it tried to move against the restraints. The strain only served to tighten against the mongrel, who, after a few minutes, stopped struggling.

"Hello," the doctor said while smiling grimly, "you are now property of the Galactic Defense and Weapons Development Corporation. The GDW."

The mongrel growled in response. Blackjack sighed.

"Yup. Exactly how I feel."

He moved over and studied the creature's eyes. Rather than having an iris and pupil, the creature's eye was one solid color, and looked as if it was constructed by some sort of mineral.

"Damn that looks as cool as it does freaky..."

The researcher made a note on his pad which sat on the side, then wandered over to one of the cabinets.

"Well," he sighed and rubbed his hair, "they tell me that you are an EVO: an Exponentially Variegated Organism. You were manipulated by nanites (which were constructed by a scientist on Earth) and it changed you into the being you are now."

He returned to the EVO, with a large syringe in his hand.

"The GDW wants to use that blood that you have, and convert it to something more to their taste. And, unfortunately, they aren't satisfied with just a small, single sample of your blood."
The doctor lowered the needle slowly, causing the mongrel to flinch.

"Don't worry," Blackjack said quietly, "you'll probably get used to it."

Chapter 3

Cellmates

Blackjack had slowly grown accustomed to talking to the mongrel and chrysalis like they were normal, rational, intelligent beings (though they of course never talked back, the EVO did growl occasionally). While it seemed like he had lost it already, it actually helped to soothe his sanity. He even went as far as to give them names. The EVO's name was Spoons and the  rock organism's was Chess (since it never moved).

The chrysalis remained in a dormant state, though Blackjack noticed that when he felt increasingly high levels of stress and depression, Chess seemed to grow smaller, as if condensing itself for an impact of some type, though the computers noticed no brain waves. Although it was intriguing, it didn't provide any new or useful data.

The EVO, however, was a different story. It always tried to move against the restraints and wanted to attack Blackjack whenever he came to acquire another blood  sample, but became a little more relaxed (if by only a fraction) when he fed the essential nutrients to keep the mongrel alive. He constantly kept talking to Spoons, with jokes and riddles, stories and reports, even pretending that the grunts and growls were real responses with meaning.

The Chairman constantly wanted updates and reports. Never coming in, just demanding it over the speakers, and receiving it through the opening in the cell door.

The real trouble was, however, was that the factors that the researcher had been given, the EVO, the chrysalis, and the weapon design, were all unknowns and constant variables. They wanted a miracle out of science.

It takes time and luck to create a miracle, and Blackjack knew that time was one thing he knew for certain he didn't have.

Chapter 4

All In The Same Boat


The only positive thing was that, somehow or other, he had managed to tame the EVO. It wasn't easy, but after constant feeding, it finally stopped growling towards him and even allowed him to get comfortable enough to pet it.

After a while, he took a gambit and unstrapped it. It jumped off the table immediately, and ran in various directions, ramming walls, knocking over the movable furniture (the desk, computer, and lab equipment were bolted so as to provide a direct and clear view for the camera), and even knocking Blackjack over a few times. Once it calmed a bit, it turned and stared at Blackjack. After a few tense moments, in which the researcher actually thought he might be eaten, the EVO turned away, disinterested.


 After the mongrel had positioned itself in a corner, the Chaiman called in, demanding to know why the subject was allowed free and roaming. Blackjack, quickly explained that the active blood of Spoons might provide a more reliable and responsive source of nanite samples. Reluctantly, the Chairman agreed, under the understanding that some significant improvements were to be made.

It took a little while for him to get close to Spoons again, as the EVO was still weary of being put back on the table. Blackjack shared his own food with it, since the Chairman only allowed enough nutrients to survive, not to be active. Blackjack often told Spoons about the progress on the project, both the good and the bad, and it seemed that the mongrel was actually understanding what was being said. What a weird thought.

It took a while for Blackjack to register why Spoons left the researcher unharmed. He had stabbed, poked and prodded it multiple times, and yet it never even took a threatening stance at him. Perhaps it knew that they were both in the same boat.
Spoons became a source of comfort for Blackjack, allowing him to relieve tension by petting and talking to it. It was rather funny what a small amount of living space can do to the mind, when differences can be put aside, even if only for survival.

Chapter 5
Dying Light


"We are patient, Mr. Jack, but, We will not tolerate failure. It is a very simple concept, one you should be able to understand as a man of intellect: Success and live or failure and extended death await you. Simply do as you wish." 

The Chairman's words continued to bounce off the walls like balls, slightly attributing to the half empty flask in Blackjack's hands.

He had hit rock bottom.

Spoons also seemed to sense this, as it had become more sluggish, now not even getting up, but just sitting there in its' corner shivering occasionally. The EVO hadn't even flinched in the slightest yesterday when Blackjack took yet another blood sample from him.


Even the chrysalis was now a constant solid mass, condensed to the point where it could be mistaken for just a normal hunk of space rock.

Their rope was waning.

It had seemed that, for all three living organisms trapped in the tiny lab, they would all meet the same fate: obliteration. After days of constantly manipulating the nanites in the mongrel's blood to the chrysalis' hardened shell fragments ending in failure, Blackjack had begun to despair. Working late into the night, running and rerunning the scenarios, drinking, throwing random equations left and right to get some sort of positive outlook, nothing worked. The end seemed like a very real possibility. The Chairman wanted the project finished in the allotted time, or else the researcher would be experiencing a very painful, prolonged death.

He didn't know what else to do. He had taken this job because he was so deep in debt with his own company, they practically sold him in order to make some sort of income on him. If he had known what that would entailed, he might have ended his life right before the contract was signed, that way he would have spoiled someone's day before departing life.

He took another swig, then slowly sat up and hobbled towards the bed. If he was going to die, he might as well get some sleep first.

Chapter 6
The Bitterness Of Success

The alarm went off, causing the migraine to pulse throughout Blackjack's skull. He struggled to shut it off while covering his face from the harsh glare that emitted from the ceiling. After he managed to quiet the noisy device, he reached out and grabbed the goggles off the floor, and shifted them over his eyes.

He looked over and saw everything as he left it: Chess in the container, Spoons in the corner, and the computer monitor still running since yesterday. He got up groggily, the room spinning slightly, and walked towards the monitor.
He rubbed his face and glanced at the screen, and seeing all the flashing green check marks, shook his head and reached for the pot of coffee.

"Even my hallucinations and dreams like to torture me with success..." He said, pouring the coffee into a thermos. He stopped suddenly, slightly upsetting the coffee, and slowly looked towards the monitor in realization.

Green. All the simulations. Correct. The tests. Ready. Everything...matched up.

He dropped the coffee pot and thermos, smashing the glass and spilling its' contents across the floor.

Refusing to tear his gaze from the screen, the researcher proceeded to refresh the page, and reran the statistics again.

Still green.

He felt his body tense, and he jumped out of the chair with victory cry, leaping to and fro from the desk to the bed and dancing all about. He went to the analysis apparatus and pulled the successful formula from it. He kissed it gingerly then placed it in a small refrigerator.

He then trudged over and collapsed on the chair, chuckling with relief. He stared at the sterile, white ceiling, a slow and probing question coming to mind: what had changed?

He sat up and flipped through the statistics. Chrysalis fragment? Check? Bio-enhancer? Check. Inhibitor formula? Check. EVO blood sample? Che-

He stared closer at the screen. It was indeed marked off, but the computer noted that the composition had changed slightly from any of the previous samples, suggesting that the source material had been tampered with. He then glanced over at the corner where Spoons sat, undisturbed from when the last time the researcher had drawn its' blood.

Standing up slowly, Blackjack walked to the corner, knelt down, and put his hand on the EVO's skull. It felt cold. He pushed Spoons on its' side, and put his ear up to its' chest.

There was nothing but silence.

Blackjack slouched over, leaning against the wall. The EVO had shown no signs of fatigue or weakness until only a few days ago. Whatever Spoons had done to its' blood composition had ended up killing it. In the end, Spoons had given Blackjack a way of completing the work needed, almost as if it had wanted to give him a chance.

With one hand hand on Spoons, the researcher pulled his knees to his face and cried.

Chapter 7
The Advancement of Two-Steps


The days were a blur. 

The tests. The experiments. The alcohol. It caused Blackjack to become a stationary target in a whirlwind of bullets. Deadline. 
That's all that ran through his head now. He woke up. Ate. Drank. Programmed. Morphed. Ate. Drank. Mutated. Tested. Rested. Repeated.
Chess the Chrysalis had been taken apart. Piece by piece. While at first, Blackjack had some reservations, the daily practice of routine slowly drained him of those reservations. Human desire for self-preservation became his drive. 
The emotional ties to Spoons didn't apply to the chrysalis.

The nanites (which were embedded within the EVO's blood) were originally non responsive to the integration of the fractured chrysalis. But eventually the combination of the serum, along with a strange substance provided by the Chairman, the nanites had finally enacted to latch onto the fragments. Several days after that, the computers had been able to etch an uninterrupted signal between the mutated nanites and a temporary signal from the computers to input commands.

After weeks of modding and programming, Blackjack eased his fingers off the console and looked towards the bay that was built only a few weeks earlier, when the prototype needed more space. The figure stood a little more than 7ft tall, towering over Blackjack. Its' frame consisted of slates of a mysterious plated armor that had developed as the project began to take form. Its' massive arms spanned a longer length in proportion to its' body. The head was still forming, however, as the nanites were restructuring themselves according to the level of coding Blackjack had imputed. He had no control over the design of it.

He sat. Staring blankly at the project. He then took stood quickly and, taking a hammer from the tools that sat sprawled about, strode over to the project and laid into it with a hammer. Swing after swing, he battered at the chest. After a few minutes, he stopped. Looking at the chest plate, he say the faint outlines of cracks, and after a few moments, they faded away. He looked at the hammer in his hands and saw the dents within the fine steel. 

Looking again at the prototype, he whispered "What are you?"

The lights of the prototype's eyes flickered on in response.