And that's how I had my first Knock out.Well first one as the recently deceased Isaac anyway. But before I get too ahead of myself let me explain. I can tell that you're pretty confused at the moment. Your brain desperately trying to figure out the pattern of events that led me here from the tidbits I've told you.

You must pardon this poor drug addled soul.

I haven't spoken to 'someone' else in years after all. 2 years to be exact.

So now that I've laid down some checkpoints shall we fully explore the map?

My running away from home. Not some fear induced action or rage manifested feat. I was being tested. You see we talked about my inheritance ... or at-least I did.

What I didn't mention is that I never met my parents. I probably never will. They were merely the donors of the genes that make me who I am. An attempt at something superior. An attempt at forced evolution.

I was concocted in a lab and born in a machine. I was already being bombarded with all relevant information as they sped up my growth stage. They made me appear normal. Nothing too eye catching but not too hard on the eyes either if I do say so myself.

My dad was an athlete of some renown. He had broken more records in his career than most of his peers put together. Shame they later arrested him for violent behavior in a public space. Something about blackmail and physical enhancement drugs.

Guess that's three things we have in common.

My mother was a hunter. She used to hunt beasts in the wild as she grew up. Then she went on to hunt beasts on the battle field. She had a diverse skill set. She was a good tracker and she knew her traps. She was fearless in hand to hand combat preferring a blade to standard issue sidearms. The only time she preferred a gun was when she was hunting distant prey. She was one the greatest recorded snipers of the time. Her furthest kill was a target just shy of 3 miles sitting in between his two infant children.

Her eyes have served me well.

As for the ones who raised me I have my two 'grandparents' to blame for that.

An old veteran who was half Japanese and half American. A bad mix to be when he was young. But all the trials he faced left him stronger. Tough enough to stare the world in the eyes and spit back. He taught me many things. Well ... his memories did anyway. Remember ... the 'fed' me knowledge as I was developing? His experience was one of the many things they saw fit to bestow on me.

As for the lady I would always call 'granny', she was one of the head researchers of the program that birthed me. Usually distant from her experimental subjects she took a shine to me during my infancy.

By the time I breathed fresh air I was already 6 years old. My skin was like a newborn without the creases that 6 years of movement would impart on a normal boy. My skin was almost taut and seemed almost reptilian at the time as I recalled the information in my mind. My hands however were a different matter. Infants usually form palm lines in the womb were their fists are bunched up. Occasionally opening and closing them as they dreamed unformed dreams.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Not me though. My dreams were vivid. My dreams were structured. The ones of my grandfather especially so. They wanted to give me 'experiences' but they wound up giving me nightmares.

My granny later told me that I would thrash around like a fish on land so they had to bind me in the tube I was incubating in. All of me was bound as I was suspended in my nutritional vat.

All but my hands. They creased beyond belief. Any palm reader who saw them would have a conniption.

As for the rest of me ... I was perfect. Perfect memory. Perfect health. Perfect in every way they wanted me to be.

Granny proceeded to teach me more than what they could fit into my mind at the time why my grandfather taught me how to fight the demons they put in me by training my body.

This went on till I could compete in both fields with those 5 times my age at the time. But I wasn't ready yet. Not according to them anyway. They decided to further improve me. 2 years of drugging me with muscle enhancers that far outmatched the barbaric compounds my father 'supposedly' took. No drawbacks. Just returns.

They decided that I could take more. So they sent me into a virtual training program called ... the Nursery. My own personal hell. Even though I was tough... I was a big investment. A BIG EXPENSIVE INVESTMENT. So all training considered too dangerous took place here.

I cried the first few nights. Then granny came up to me as they were plugging me in. She told me that she had modified the program a bit. That it was now like a game. Each mission gave me points and these points could be exchanged for rewards in the real world. She gave a list.

Each mission was ranked. From E to A in increasing order of difficulty. They gave me 10 to a 1000 points.

E-10 D-50 C-100 B - 500 A-1000

To give you an idea of the mission types;

E- Locate a particular individual based on provided Intel and acquired information.

D- Escort an asset in a civilian environment without drawing attention in an enemy territory.

C- Lead your squad and complete infiltration and take out assigned target.

B- World war battle simulation. Recorded battles relived to produce better results than the original. Victory in the battle is not a requisite but additional points allotted for doing so.

... A- ... Nightmare scenarios. Face your fears. Lose human sensibilities.

The rank A missions were guaranteed death scenarios. A no win event where they would try to break me and I would try to minimize the damage. They placed me in the middle of an ocean on a planet with no exposed land mass. They left in a coffin in which I could hear the others than were piled around me.

No dirt. Only other coffins with 'people' banging on its sides. Each followed by the inevitable 'death rattle'. I would be unable to break the walls. Hard to do so when they've removed your limbs.

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One moment please. I have a headache. Just a moment.