To Whatever Gods May Be

Chapter X-1: (Concept 1: Grandfather/initial preview)
Wilson sat, hunched over a little table sat in the middle of his darkened lab, sipping wine from some manner of large, simple cup. He was a very old man, quite clearly, with white, slightly thinned hair and a severely wrinkled and sagging face. All around him were odd contraptions and experiments. Almost all of them gave off light in some fashion: a natural glow, status readouts, some electrical or chemical reaction, .... But the lab's overhead lights were off, and the entire massive room was much darker as such; the background lighting congealed together into little more than a faint bluish-whitish glow coming from all directions.

He sighed and look at the remaining portion of the delicious liquid. "In vino, veritas," he muttered. "Mmh," he leaned back and held the glass out up and off to the side, shaking it a little. "Y'want shome wine? Th'othersh aren' e'en here. Jush' an ol' man 'n' 'ish ... great-great-great- ... I f'rget how many it ish now. ... grandshon. Yer ol' enough now, y'know."

There was complete silence. No response at all. "Tha'sh--... tha'sh you, kid." Still no response. "Dah--... Dammit, now he'sh gone too." He took a deep breath, and shot it back out in a disappointed huff. He let out a low, crackling grumble, and muttered in an annoyed voice, "If I knew I'd outlive m' kids, gran'kids, 'n' down th'line 'cause of 'em all bein' carelesh, 'n' get shtuck wi' th' youngesh' 'uns o' th' bunch, I'd o' prayed like 'ell to wha'ever godsh may be t' save 'em f' my sake."

Huh....

Why huh?

I don't understand all of this... That's why.

Well, of course you don't understand. I posted a more or less completely plot-divorced bit of story from an undeveloped original work by me, that I've never put anywhere before, and therefore you've never seen. That's literally the only thing in all of existence written down about this story so far. And it's the equivalent of a video game concept art. But, here's the basic idea of the plot in my head right now:

• Aliens attack and completely devastate Earth, oh noes!
  
• 6(? Maybe more or less.) individuals, all descendants of the "Grandfather" character above, are all but killed in the initial attack.
  
• "Grandfather" is a master scientist and engineer, with all the experience granted by being several hundreds of years old. He rebuilds all of them with little more than bits of brain, with whatever tools he can pull together from the wreckage. He makes them super-soldiers on a scale of power never before seen to man and they, natch, agree to help fight the aliens.
  
• As it turns out, being rebuilt into a top-of-the-line super-powered killing machine when one's brain isn't even fully intact, the missing spots being effectively filled with off-the-cuff "best guess" data, whether the memory of what one had for breakfast, the knowledge of how to speak, or the memory of one's first kiss happened to be in a given blank spot, thanks to being subjected to one of the high-powered weapons used in a planet-wide, infrastructure-crushing attack, and then immediately after, being one of the only six people fighting an endless, monstrously evil, and ruthless alien military isn't exactly good for the human psyche. Oh dear, I wonder what will happen to the poor character's fragile minds? I'm sure they'll be okay. I mean, it's not like they're in a fictional story where they're intentionally being put through hell by the (monstrously sadistic!) author for the sake of good storytelling. ... Oh wait. Yeah, about here is where the shit hits the fan, and not only do I not know the slightest bit about what will happen after this point just yet, telling it if I did would be spoiling the adventure.