Soldier 17 sprang from his sleep into a crouched position, muscles tensed and ready, only to face nothing but deep silence. After a brief scan for any threats, the conditioned trainee relaxed back into a seated position. For the last 2 weeks, he had experienced the same dream. That was the word the doctors used: dream… They felt like memories with blurred edges. 17 smoothly pivoted from a seated position on the bare mattress by swinging his legs out ninety degrees and stood up.
As usual, he neatly arranged covers and sheets on the mattress in less than a minute. The soldier stood perfectly still as the diagnostic machinery in the barracks performed its daily full-body scan. A small chime rang as a feminine Doctor’s voice spoke over the intercom in a clinical drone. The voice was pitched down a bit and slightly distorted to keep the identity of the practitioner confidential. It was a necessary security measure specifically put in place for him.
During an assessment in the past, it was discovered that 17’s hearing could be amplified enough to accurately ‘feel’ the contours of a person’s face based on vibrations in their skull. As usual, the machine scanned his basic outward features first. He pulled up a real-time layout of the scan on a floating digital display. A simple gesture with the eyes enlarged the screen in front of him. Dark almond-colored skin wrapped around a 6’1” frame looked back at 17.
His black hair had a very light oily sheen to it as the machinery cleansed it of impurities. A short buzz cut faded on the sides of his head and his physique was cut and lean. At first glance, one could easily mistake him for a well-conditioned US Marine in their prime. That was only at first glance though. The soldier’s eyes were an empty black devoid of any light, occasionally appearing to shift into a rolling sea of shadows. He had been told by superiors that they seemed to glow a faint gold when he killed someone.
Unfortunately, he had yet to find willing participants to test the theory. After running through chemical and nutrition information, the readout completed the scan with one final read of all of his current traits and skills.
“Subject 17 recognized.
Age: 23 [Age based on biometrics: 20]
Date of Birth: [Redacted]
Origin: [Unknown]
Status: Alive
Race: Human [Special]
ID scan......complete.
Biometric scan......complete.
Strength: B-
Speed: B+ (var.)
Defense: B+ (var.)
Dexterity: A-
Stealth: S
Energy: C+
Mana: None
Affinity (Innate): None
Affinity (Inherited): Authority of Shadow
Threat Level: A-grade Tier II
Risk Assessment: Green
Current Skills and Traits: Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Speed, Enhanced Reflexes, Rapid Cellular Regeneration, Shadow Manipulation, Shadow Coalescence, Adoptive Muscle Memory, Shadow Memory Extraction, Aura manipulation (assessment pending), Ki sense (assessment pending), Full Body control (Eval. Pending: Upgrade to Total Body Control)
ID scan......saved.
Biometric scan......updated.
Medical Assessment Complete.”
He tapped the wall next to the door and a panel slid back revealing a small closet. The young man retrieved clothes and utility harnesses from the closet then closed the panel. The soldier’s room was entirely unremarkable and clear of any clutter. The light grey walls, perfect coloring for exposing the shadows of hidden assailants, were completely bare outside of one set of small, adorned hooks to rest his katana. Like most places in the barracks and facility at large, the room was modular.
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As he got dressed, his bed lowered under the floor and was covered with a grey panel that seamlessly blended in. With all morning rituals complete, he strapped his Steel Katana to his back. Once he secured the clasps to his black Facility-issued uniform, he performed a final once-over. The thin layer of Kevlar beneath the uniform fabric was durable but flexible enough to allow free movement. The kinetic Kevlar could absorb most standard caliber rifles without the need for bulky padding.
With his assessment finished, the intercom overhead hummed to life once more, choking out a static-filled facility-wide broadcast, “Subjects 15, 16, and 17 report to the training grounds in Warehouse 7.” Hearing his assigned credentials called, he slid his poly mesh mask over his face. A simple black mask, standard issue, excluding the modifications applied by The Director. The plain fabric was perfectly form-fitting, completely absorbed light and could instantly inflate into a rubberized gel when faced with blunt force.
One of the main features of the mask was that it was highly adaptable. When in combat, his heightened senses were attuned so sensitively that assailants could try to take advantage with bright lights or sounds. The mask could instantly block any senses on the head with a less than 3 picosecond delay.
He moved at an efficient pace, mentally running through the five animal forms combat techniques he learned yesterday. The footfalls of his boots quietly echoed lifelessly in the access hallway connecting the barracks to Warehouse 7. As he rounded the corner to the training grounds, subject 15, a tall muscular behemoth of adrenaline, stood in his way. Subject 15 was the product of the latest iteration of the Adonis Project. It was an experiment where they hardened the muscular tissue, rewired the regeneration of bone cells, and overcharged the adrenal glands.
The end result was a massive hulk of a man. The downside to the experiment was due to the constant fuel of the adrenal glands, the subject usually developed an unnaturally short temper and lower margin of intelligence.
Subject 15 was the poster child of these downsides. Standing overbearingly at 6’7”, 15 had the default physique of a lean Olympic weightlifter. He sported amber eyes with a small shock of blonde hair atop an otherwise basic buzz cut with no eyebrows. Clothed in a similar uniform to 17’s, the only two major differences were the distinct lack of sleeves and the silver device on his waist. The thin silver belt was inconsequential, if there was no need for re-education. Most subjects wore variations of the hardware as a piece of clothing. Though most were visible in the lower ranks, Subjects in positions higher than Sergeant were given a dermal implant instead.
“The Proctor says you have to go to the…. Uh… infirmary… for a checkup before the training grounds.” As 17 listened to the faint quiver in 15’s voice and the slight rise in his heart rate, he was instantly aware of the lie. As 15 rambled on, 17 watched the tension in his shoulders ebb and flow. Without a word, 17 stepped around him and continued towards his primary objective. 15 growled behind him, “Hey! Don’t turn away while I’m talkin’ to you!” He said more but 17 filtered the dialogue away for review later. Suddenly, 17 felt the sudden spike in 15’s body temperature and smelled the dense and musky smell of adrenaline in the air.
A split-second rush of air and movement behind him and suddenly 15’s hand, like coarse granite, was on 17’s left shoulder. As 15 began to tighten his grip, 17 let the momentum turn his shoulder back and flicked his arm out. By the time 15 realized 17 had punctured his stomach with his fingers, they were already removed and being wiped clean. 15 folded a moment later and fell to one knee clutching his stomach. “Ugh! You shouldn’ o’ done that, you're going to regret it!” 15 strained to articulate the sentence as the localized internal bleeding was reversing, the muscle fibers already knitting together and regenerating. Cellular regeneration was an attribute that all subjects of their generation had, although 15’s was the most augmented.
As he got ready to run towards 17, 17 turned and began to walk towards the training grounds. Just as 15 began barreling forward and 17’s muscles were primed to knock him unconscious, Subject 16 emerged from a door between them.
Seeing the anger seething from 15, he quickly and smoothly stepped in the way and waved his hand in a stop gesture. As 16 lifted his palm and 15 ran into it, he stopped as if hitting a brick wall. No, more accurately, he simply stopped. It was as if 15 had never been in motion at all, kinetic energy completely drained. Outside of his records within the program, very little is known about Subject 16’s origins or genetics. Despite very little genetic history for testing, 16 was the pride and joy of the MK II Benthos project. The Project augmented his natural ability to manipulate gravity and kinetic energy. The ability was extremely versatile and could even simulate super strength, speed, and mock telekinesis, although more limited.
The only side-effect of the Benthos project was hyper-accelerated cognition. This often led to Anxiety, Paranoia, a Superiority Complex, and eventually Psychosis.
Subject 16 wore heavy military combat gear alongside two black holsters attached a bit below his arms. Various pouches on his vest were filled with Pistol magazines and throwable weaponry. His weapon of choice was usually pistols or throwing knives. 15 stood stock-still as he struggled to free himself from the phantom grip that had him tightly pinned to a wall. “C’mon, 15, we’ve done this dance a thousand times before. You can’t struggle your way out of a wet paper bag right now. The more force you apply, the tighter it's going to get. Personally, I suggest you calm down.” His voice was layered with an echo and rhythmic pulses.
As 16 continued to speak in a relaxing drone, 15’s heart rate slowly lowered. “I’m…going…to calm down…” 16 said drunkenly as his muscles lost a bit of their fill and he changed from a gigantic overly toned behemoth to just a tall weightlifter once more. “That’s it...just calm down…” After one final glance at 15, 16 turned towards 17 and rolled his eyes. A wide and arrogant grin spread across his face and his voice was laced with condescension, “You like that little trick? It’s something I’ve been working on. Anyway, we need to hurry up and get to the grounds, 17. I’d hate to see you ruin that attendance record of yours.”