Dr Oliver Thredson Novels & Stories

"But the Matriarch... the Matriarch is a much more elegant completion to the equation." I stepped into the room, my gun raised, my finger tightening on the trigger. Sitting in the high-backed leather chair before the primary telemetry console was a man who looked like a ghost of the boardroom. He wore a pristine lab coat over a tailored gray suit, his silver hair perfectly combed, his hands folded over a small, gold-plated device that hummed with a low, micro-frequency. Dr. Valerie Thorne. My father’s cousin. The man the Board had listed as the chief geneticist of the "Iron Pulse" project before he supposedly died in the Oakhaven raid ten years ago.

The foundation's paperwork was im⁠peccable, its source untraceabl‌e to Sterling⁠ Hold‍ings. Kaelan Kaelan sat ac‌ross from Dr. Aris Thor‌ne (no relation), a ren⁠owned psy⁠ch‍ologist who specialized in w⁠or‌king with h‌igh-pr⁠ofile in‌divid‍uals who h‌ad‍, i‍n her w‍o‍rds, "forgott‌en how to be human." The‌ offi‌c‍e w‌as calm, fi‍lled with soft light and books, a uni‍verse‍ away from his corpo‍rate world.

" With that, the visitor opened the door. Olivia knew this person, too. He was the famous designer Troy Fordham. However, compared to before, he had gotten much calmer. It was quite a huge change. It was quite lively today. Jacqueline was here, and Troy had come over as well. "Who are you?" Troy was obviously very cold to Olivia, and he was even hostile toward her. "You're getting the wrong idea, Troy. Dr. Fordham has amazing medical skills. With her help, I finally managed to sleep soundly last night." Troy examined Olivia from head to toe. She looked quite common, and she didn't seem like some sort of professional. "Really?" Troy looked at the man who was covered in needles.

The five-hour flight ended with Tristan and Oliver having exchanged numbers and life stories. As it turned out, Oliver had been in Las Vegas to solve some property dispute caused by his father after his rich mother had just passed away. Although Tristan exchanged his number with him, he knew that it was useless because there was no chance they could meet again. Oliver lived way upstate, and they seemed to have no mutual hobbies as Oliver was a billionaire architect, who spent most of his time in his office on his designs. He was about to be proven very wrong.

Alcyoneus added, "This is no joking matter, Ms. Karin. The lives of everyone in Drogoton are at stake here." "That's precisely why I proposed this idea. Or do any of you have a better idea? Sir Remy, I trust that you've already come to a decision. I need those soldiers, and I need them to follow my lead." Remy was deep in thought when Adrian suddenly appeared in the meeting room. "Ms. Karin, would you happen to be Oliver's mother?" Everyone stood up when they saw him walking in. "Yes, sir. Oliver is my son. He was in charge of the Mount Gremont Railway. Although I don't know if he's still alive or not, I'll do everything I can to deal with the problems in front of me."

I’m just making sure he doesn’t need to go to the hospital. Cipher: 40.5?! Yikes! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 Okay, even I’m worried now. That’s no joke. Do you need me to send a remote-controlled ice pack? I can have one there in 20 minutes. 👾🤖 Oliver: Oh no, poor Mr. Thorne…🥺🥺 But… are you sure you should be there alone, Evelyn? It’s kinda… you know… 😳😳

He entered the room with his usual stoicism, but his neutral expression didn't reassure me in the least. "Where's Thorne?" I asked without preamble. Oliver didn't bat an eyelid under my scrutiny. "He's back at the villa," he replied evenly. "I took him out for a short time. He wanted to see the outskirts. I didn't see any harm in it. I stared at him for a moment, weighing the veracity of his words. Oliver had been loyal for years—one of the few people I trusted with Thorne. But something about the situation felt off.

Every time he speaks, there's the briefest metallic flash of a piercing in his tongue. My jaw tightens. Cataloging these details is a tactical habit. It's standard operating procedure to observe everything within my perimeter. Knowing the physical capabilities and attributes of the people in my space keeps me alive. That doesn't explain why I've spent the last ten minutes staring at the pale strip of skin exposed where his shirt's ridden up his abdomen. "You're staring so hard your retinas are going to detach," Oliver says. His voice is muffled by his inverted position, but the arrogant amusement bleeds through clearly.

Oliver, now directly behind Tristan, lowered his face to the back of Tristan’s neck, close to his ear, and whispered, “Do I have a reason to be jealous of the sex doctor?” Tristan jumped in his seat, turning to face Oliver, his face going white again. Why was Oliver asking this? Oliver straightened up as he saw Tristan’s face. Quickly shaking his head and taking a step backwards with an expression between concern and apology, he said, “I am sorry Tristan, I didn’t know it would scare you. I was trying that thing the sex doctor said earlier - low frequency vibrations on the neck, I am really sorry.”

Benjamin replied, his eyes seemed to be weighing me. “Besides, we will really need you guys to back us up on the defensive.” He added. “Thelma, be on the look out for the weak spot, you might notice while we are attacking.” Oliver said, releasing what looked like a trident. It wasn’t a lycan weapon but I could tell it was lethal. The spider had already revealed itself fully now. It was tall, reaching half the height of the colosseum.