No Hope for the Lost

Dr. McGuffin sat back in his chair, old tired and beaten. He looked dimly at the 5 pods, the ones with Matt, Natalie, Lance, and Anna in them. By this point he had started thinking them as his own children. Then his gaze drifted to Sam, asleep on the couch, the boy that reminded him of his own son. How sad it must be for him, to have his childhood taken away, replaced by the evils of war. There wasn't much more the doctor could do now, but point them in the right direction.

"Computer start recording, Entry 37, day 82. Recording is top priority and should be repeated upon next start up," Dr. McGuffin said as he turned to the computer solemnly," Samuel, my dear boy, I am afraid that this is our last time to talk together. I am too old and taking too many resources now, I must leave in order to insure that you will have enough food to last you the rest of the scenario. The rest of Project EBF is now terminated. All that matters now is Matt and his friends making it out of their pods and leave Nazi territory safely. Please be careful, you kids are the only thing that can help us now. Just know that I always cared for you, good bye my so- good bye Samuel, make me proud. And do not try and wake me up. End Recording"

Dr. McGuffin stood up, turned off the computer, and pushed in the chair. He walked over to the couch and sighed, "good bye my boy." He then continued to walk down the lab, past rubble and ruined equipment, to the 3rd pod. Subject 3 was painted on the side of it. The old scientist opened the pod, and stepped in. He put the helmet that connected the brain to the scenario. And finally, he closed the door.


It was an hour until Samuel woke up. He was a tall boy with a tan completion and black hair. He picked up his glasses that were resting on the table and put them on. First thing he should do was check on the subject's vitals, but his bladder said otherwise. He stole a quick glance over to the pods; none of them were smoking or zapping, so that was good enough for him at the moment. He didn't see the Doctor anywhere, figuring he might be in the bathroom too; Sam got up and walked out the door.

After he had cleaned up and splashed water on his face, Sam walked back into the lab. He was a little worried as he looked around the lab again. The doctor wasn't in the bathroom or in the hallway, and Sam wasn't seeing him in here either. As he looked over at the lab equipment, he saw a sticky note on a computer screen that hadn't been there before. He walked over and picked it up.

The note read, "Username is Dr. Guffins, Password is Litgano Motscoud. Select Audio Files, and open journal Entry 37. – Dr. McGuffins," Sam did as the note said and listened to the old and tired voice of his mentor. Sam sat there for a little while, dumb founded, unable to accept the fact that the Doctor had left so that he could live. "Do not try and wake me up…"

"Wait a minute… don't wake him up?" Sam mumbled to himself," Oh no, he didn't do what I think he did!" Sam jumped out of his chair and ran over to the pods. "No no no…" He stopped in front of the 3rd pod, the one that used to be empty. Now, it had the corpse of the Doctor in it.

"NO, damn it, no…" Sam sobbed, "Even you? Even you had to leave me? You can't just leave me to finish your work; I can't take care of all four subjects on my own!" After he finished crying Sam got back up, wiped his face off, and checked on the rest of the subjects with a determined face. The Doctor was dead; nothing more Sam could do about that. He just had to keep moving forward, ignore the pain and loss. All that mattered now was that the subjects complete the final scenario and be ready to fight back the Nazis, and he would do this, with or without help.


And there goes this chapter. To be honest, i'm not sure If I want to continue this. I kinda like having this fan fic end here. Only explaining how this started, not how it ends. Maybe I'll pick it back up after Matt finishes Epic Battle Fantasy 4.

And Again, if any of you have thoughts of how I could improve, go ahead and say them.