Category : Adult

Sub Category : Horror

Chapter One: Rebirth - Danielle 



"One day, we will discover the secrets to the mystery that is the human soul. And when we finally uncover it, we will have already lost ours."

Cold. Darkness.

It seems that this repulsive liquid will be my forced eternal security blanket, fluids being replaced every other week. Once again, the tube that runs down my throat is ripped from my raw windpipe and quickly traded for another equally loathsome scrap of hardware. This is all just seconds before my lungs can taste the fresh air that lies mere inches from my hauntingly gaunt face, but completely out of my grasp.

My weak hands brush against the smooth, slick 'glass' that separates me from the waking world. This cylindrical tube may very well be my perpetual prison; my future, so long as I'm proven useful, will be without end.

My name was Danny. Danielle Marie Parish. Since I was chosen, they do not call me by my given name anymore. I am now called J-80... at least that's what the chart beside the tube I reside in reads. Test Subject for the W.A.S.P. Project. Though the paper doesn't state what the Project stands for, the muffled ramblings I can hear through the thick acrylic tube suggests that W.A.S.P. stands for Weaponised Altered Stealth Persona. 

Whatever drugs they had been pumping my body with since I arrived in this god-forsaken laboratory is supposed to one day churn out a mindless killing machine. Considering how weak and frail my body has become... I can only assume that they have failed thus far. It is laborious for even simple respiration at this point, which is why this tube is constantly being crammed down my gullet. I can't even breathe on my own anymore, how do they expect me to take out... whoever it is that they want me to take out?

I slowly opened my eyes again; it was difficult to see through the fluid, since it was denser than water or simple saline. The scientists and other doctors seemed to be... agitated. Suddenly, the despondent attitude of the thick-rimmed glasses-wearing fiends is flipped, they are energetic, and even animated for once. They are murmuring to one another, some even shouting empathically. What has happened?

"K-80?"

"Yes... Can you believe it?"

"They are bringing the serum here now."

"Finally we'll get to see some results."

Results? Serum? This must mean that the formula had been perfected. That also meant that they would quickly use the correct formula on all of the subjects here. Whoever was left after the previous failures, that is. For a fact, I knew that the A through E subjects were dead, or were catatonic the last time I saw them in the yard. If my physical state was anything to go by, many of the others might have already wasted away and died too. I was a bit taller than some of the other female subjects when I was chosen, and had more muscle mass than even some of the smaller males. I had come to miss my figure a bit, since it was all I could really see in my tube. I watched myself wilt away like some dying flower in the reflection of a funhouse mirror. Honestly, it was anything but fun. Now, instead of the Amazonian warrior princess that I had been working toward resembling since I was 8, I looked more and more like a wrinkled old woman who neared her visit with the reaper.

A large, stalwart man wearing what seemed to be a bullet-proof vest barged in with a short, plump looking doctor at his side. The larger man held a metal briefcase to his chest like a life preserver, a hand-scanner on its front. The fat doctor stopped in front of my fluid-filled tube and stared into the week-old fluid, where I could only lazily stare back, uncaring of my lack of clothing. I had been here for years, naked and bare for all to see. This jolly-looking doctor could not change the fact that modesty had no presence in science.

"Bring her I.V. here... It's time for J-80's transformation."

His voice was as genuine as his receding hairline, and his kind green eyes staring into the tank were a tad unnerving, even to me, a floating science specimen. He placed his chubby hand on the briefcase that the bodyguard held with such care, it hissed and opened to reveal an unassuming looking syringe with cloudy, shimmering fluid inside.

"Serum K-80Y from subject K-80 will be administered..."

The scientist stuck the needle into one of the many I.V. tubes and pressed the plunger down gradually, his actions unhurried and deliberate. His hands did not shake, nor hesitate as the other scientist's hands sometimes did when trying a new serum. 

Burning.

My nearly atrophied muscles tensed, and the sharp involuntary movement felt like fire. My eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected pain, and the machines connected to the tube beeped loudly around the room. 

"Doctor!"

A startled lab tech jumped up from his seat in what would seem to be concern, though I knew the cause was only because he was worried about losing his job, not his subject. The scientist who still held the emptied syringe did not jump, did not react in any way.

He held his breath like all the others, but he didn't permeate worry in the slightest. The direct gaze he kept on me told me one thing. He knew exactly what he was doing, and unlike many of the scientists who had been working with me for the past few years, he knew what this serum would do, because it had worked before.

My curiosity was hardly distracting enough to calm the forthright feeling in my mind, the pain. I felt like I was submerged in bubbling acid, like the blood running, no, sprinting through my veins was eroding my flesh away from just beneath the surface. I tried in earnest to scream, to let the pain escape in some form or another, but this only led to choking on the device that had been forced down my throat to keep me breathing. I now gagged on the offending bit of hardware as my lungs seemed to gain a mind of their own. My body was trying to suck in air, even though my mind fought to keep myself from impaling own lungs with the breathing tube.

"Drain the tank to 50% capacity."

The scientist ordered, and the technicians clacked away on their keyboards until I could feel the fluid around me drop below my chest, my body only kept in place by safeguards that the doctors had strapped to my spine, arms and waist upon my arrival.

"Remove the breathing apparatus..."

The mechanical arm that swapped out the breathing tubes only minutes ago removed my only source of oxygen and I couldn't help but struggle. Fluid dripped from my mouth as the alternative liquidized oxygen was purged from my system and into the fluid around me. 

For the first time in years, I took in an actual breath of fresh air.

It was thick and tasted of hand sanitizer and the foul-smelling liquid I was currently waist-deep in, but it was air. I swallowed mouthfuls of it, probably resembling a dying fish, but I definitely felt more alive than I had in a long time. After only a minute or so, it became clear that breathing was extremely difficult and much different since the last time I had done so.

"Subject J-80... Can you hear my voice?"

My eyes opened and I quickly realized that they had been closed this whole time; I looked at the scientist who had spoken to me. I was too tired to speak, so I offered what little response I could with a weak nod.

"Can you understand my words?"

I wanted to say something smart, albeit sarcastic, that even years in a tube hadn't caused me any brain damage and that I wasn't stupid, but once again, my lethargic body wouldn't allow me the satisfaction. I simply nodded again.

"You survived the initial injection. You are going to be moved into another part of the facility for further K-80Y injections and diagnostics. You are going to live."

Something about the intimate way the doctor spoke to me made me feel like a person again. Instead of just telling the other scientists and assistants of his plans... He had told me. What a strange little fat man.

The next few hours were something of an annoyance. I really had forgotten how hard it was to get into those restraints, and getting out of them seemed like an even more impossible chore. The scientists handled my body like a fragile vase, cracked and easy to shatter into bits if they were to poke and prod me too hard. Even with the feather-light touches they had to give, I could already feel purple bruises forming on my skin. At this point, I was as delicate as a newborn babe, and considering how I was just pulled from this jelly-like fluid gasping for air, I practically was.

They showered me, water pressure not hard enough to further bruise my flesh but just strong enough to sting a bit and clean the gooey substances left from the tank. For once, I was gifted clothing, and though it was practically see through and was more of a plastic outpatient apron than an outfit, it was welcome. I couldn't manage to move any part of my body but my extremities. My fingers and toes seemed to be functional, if a bit slow to respond. My eyes stung from being in the open air, but my lids worked effectively to shield them from the bright lights they surrounded me with. I wasn't aware of how bright it really was in the laboratory, the cloudy fluid they kept me in must have had some sort of solar protection on me and my eyes, maybe to keep me calm, or reduce radiation levels.

New I.V's were put in place and I was moved onto a comfortable bed. Or maybe it was uncomfortable. I really couldn't compare it to anything else in my memory. I fell asleep within minutes of being hooked up to the machine, exhausted from the exertion. 

"J-80... how are you feeling?"

The scientist's voice woke me from a deep sleep; I pried my eyes open to see his face about a foot from my own. Honestly, it was a bit jarring. I thought he was attempting to hold back a smile, like he wasn't allowing himself to do so just yet. Perhaps he was waiting for something, like hoping my brain was still functioning.

I opened my mouth, but no sound wanted to escape. I hadn't gotten much practice since being released from the tube; I had passed out pretty quickly after all. I raised my thumb from the bed, letting him know that "Yes, I'm okay." He saw the movement and grinned, surprising me a bit. He had flipped from wary to joyous in little over a second. Was he really so surprised at my minute progress? Or had something gone wrong with K-80 and he was expecting me to be brain-damaged?

"If you could, I would like to try to have a conversation with you, to fully understand how you are feeling during the procedures. I will give you some time alone to work on your speech. I assume you can think, but cannot say aloud what you are thinking, am I correct?"

Again, I gave him a thumbs-up. I could think, but my throat was too sore and weak to try to speak right now. He smiles, not quite as frightening this time, an expression of quiet understanding.

"Good. I will return in a few hours to check on your progress. Once we get the language barrier broken down, we can start muscle therapy. We want to get you up and moving again."

I blinked silently, wondering how long it would take to get up and walking again. I felt like a dead fish, how was I going to walk with these limp flippers? I clenched my hand, frustrated at the thought of waiting longer. This drew the eye of the old fat man; he looked at my hand like it had just grown mushrooms. I honestly really hoped it hadn't, because I couldn't really see my hands in my current position or state.

"I know how frustrating this might be, but we all knew that this would take time. At least the formula has been perfected; we are nearly done with the monotonous part. You were chosen for a reason, and now the choice has not been made in vain." 

A stray tear fell from my eye and I fought to blink it away. God, to be able to walk around again, to say things that I feel; if only to let out my frustration... or kick a doctor in the shin. Being in that tube was worse than being dead. Being alive and unable to move, unable to speak or express myself was maddening. I gave the briefest of nods and he seemed satisfied that I had accepted his words.

"Rest, practice whispering. It will be far less strenuous on your vocal chords."

He left the room quietly, leaving behind a sense of finality. I started testing myself right away. I parted my lips and forced air from my windpipe, trying to make a sound stronger than simple breathing.

I thought of something I once did as a child, when I would sit on the bus by the window, face against the cheap, cool glass.. It was morning, so my breath would create little clouds in the air. I would breathe against the window and draw little hearts in the fog.

A 'Haahhh-', would suffice, just a shred of hope that my vocal chords could still vibrate and produce a sound. In minutes, I could make that sound, and could hear some semblance of hushed humming coming from my throat.

This road to recovery was going to be long, but step one was almost complete.





Chapter Two: Test subject K-80 - Tyler


"Fighting back is an incredible waste of time in this life. It is futile and tiring. It is also completely necessary."

Understanding why he was here was a lot different than accepting it. He understood why he was strapped to this table, tolerating the needles they shove into his skin. They needed him.

They crave a power that they themselves will never have; the power to decimate their enemies, to bring order to the world around them in the form of brutality. They need a soldier, or more practical, a robot. They need a cool, calculated being to sort out their problems and follow their every command, to carry out their directive without the need to get their own hands dirty.

He was not chosen to think. They would not expect it of him. No one would expect a soldier to ask questions or defy his commanding officer; they would expect him to run blindly into the fire simply because he was told to. To jump when they say jump, no "How high?"s necessary.

He had been a soldier once. Officer Tyler Samson, platoon leader in the military forces. When the war was still young and the government was still naïve about the people they sought to defeat, he proudly stood on the battlefield with little more than a gun and the word "Go". 

Now, he was a test subject. They had stripped him of his name and his title and slapped a number on his chest just as quick. K-80. It pissed him off almost as much as the needles did, and that was saying a lot.

When you are chosen, there is always an option to decline. You don't have to become a lab rat simply because they say so. Keep in mind that saying no leads to the collective pariah treatment. Your refusal is printed in newspapers, put on the television and declared loudly over the radio.

Your best friends will hate you. Your mother and father will disown you. Your favorite high school teacher will spit on your grave after you are jumped and knifed in an alleyway on your way home by the Reverend's daughter. Hell, the Rev might even be in the wings recording it on his phone to put it online later.

There is an option to decline when you are chosen. You are just an idiot if you choose that option.

When the draft was made socially unacceptable and practically illegal to enforce, the government had to get their lab rats somehow. The poor, the crippled, and the publicly detested were chosen to join in a fantastic new study. You would become revered, you would be granted large sums of money, records would be expunged, and you would be provided amazing medical care.

Anyone who declined the opportunity was often seen as despicable, that they thought more of themselves than others, that by saying 'no', you were basically committing treason. The government assured everyone that treason was not something that a naysayer would be stamped with, they would not go to prison or be shot on site, but they knew damned well that the public would serve up its own justice; they would never have to lift a finger to eliminate a threat, the threat would be eliminated on its own.

"Two serums to test today, K-80, hopefully we can sort out some sort of recuperation period for you."

The pretty little brunette was back. Scientists were more often than not, male, but somehow K-80 had gotten lucky and there was a woman on his team. Well, luck actually had nothing to do with it. Any guy that jabbed the brute with a needle was met with a fist through those old-man glasses of theirs. One day, they got smart and put a woman into the mix. His father had once told him as a boy to never to hit a woman, so the tests went as planned from that day on. At least she's nice. The other chick was about 60, salt and pepper hair, tied back so tight that he was sure it had to hurt. Somehow, no matter how tight the bun was, her wrinkles remained. Her nearly black eyes vastly creeped him out, and her pointed nose made him think that she had to be a vulture or a crow in another life, picking away at men's rotting corpses on the side of the road somewhere. Her voice was oddly reminiscent of a screeching bird as well, sharp and as pointed as that damned beak of hers.

The brunette on the other hand, was much easier on the eyes. Short, around 5'6" in those cute little Lab-Tech flats. She wore glasses like all the others, but not nearly as thick as the lab books she read between treatments. She was the proud owner of big brown doe eyes that she kept behind those frames and little freckle dusted cheeks. Also, she had mousy dark hair that she kept short; it's always a little messy, as if she had just run her fingers through it in frustration, which was often the case when it came to this new serum formula. 

She was much nicer than the other Scientists, but he honestly had begun to think that her benevolence is only in place to make sure he didn't put her or anyone else through a wall one of these days if a particularly bad dose made him mad.

He didn't think they understood that he couldn't be any angrier about his current situation, but smashing the place to bits again wouldn't do anything more than stall their progress, stall and not stop.

"Yeah, okay. Just do it, Doc."

His mouth was dry from the last serum. Unfortunately he wasn't allowed any fluids during the treatments. They instead had him on a saline I.V. drip, but it really wasn't the same. He was sure that he could hock a dust loogie today if he tried.

"Three... two...one..."

The needle broke skin and he felt the fluid seep into his body. There was always a decided amount of pressure when they injected him with something. She pulled the needle while applying pressure to the tiny pinprick wound and sets the syringe aside, watching him, waiting for him to react.

They both waited in silence for what seemed like forever, before he sat up.

"Bucket."

It's in front of him as soon as the word leaves his mouth, and good timing too, because that wasn't the only thing that was fighting to get out of his mouth. He emptied what little remained in his stomach from his last feeding into the plastic receptacle, doing his best not to make a mess. 

"K-80X is a failure..."

She reports to her superior, who K-80 could only assume was watching through the two-way mirror on the wall just a little ways out of his reach. There's no response for a long while until a small buzzing sound reaches the lab.

"Administer K-80Y in one hour, run dialysis to clear K-80X from the subject's system."

It was enough to make him puke again. He retched into the small container, the thought of a blood dialysis sickening the subject to no end. He had only had to go through it about ten times in these few years, but it was never pleasant since they couldn't risk putting him under for it. But to do the next injection in an hour? He knew that there was something up with the experiment, they were rushing the procedure... That worried him almost more than the thing itself did.

"Understood. K-80, I need you to lie back down."

"Yeah, yeah... I know."

He still felt like puking, but unless his body felt like bringing up more stomach acid, it wasn't getting any more from him. He lay down and she quietly dabbed his face with an alcohol covered cloth. The sharp scent of sanitized fluid smelled better than puke, so naturally he was grateful.

For the rest of the procedure, he fought the urge to purge again, forcing his eyes shut to relax himself. The little brunette scientist stayed by his side and rubs his arm, perhaps trying to comfort the large man. Truthfully, he wished she wouldn't. It only succeeded in making him think that there were worse things in store for him. 

Oh man, did he hate being right.

"Begin the administration of K-80Y."

The doc's Superior's voice almost jolted him from the sleep that he didn't know he was falling into, and the brunette's hand jumps from his arm like he had burned her.

"Yes sir."

Another needle is pressed to his already bruised skin and the monitors beeped a little loudly beside him. They sent shockwaves of pain through his mind as a new migraine started for him. Usually he wouldn't worry about something as trivial as this, he had flat-lined more than once on their table before, but damn it all if he wasn't allowed to become a little irritated if he found himself being stabbed with a syringe during the first stages of a well-deserved nap.

The same pressure at the injection sight, then there's only intense burning. The pain shocks his system so bad that he rips through his restraints and shoves the brunette away from the table, knocking her into another one nearby. Beakers, pencils and pills of all shapes and sizes spill onto the ground where she lands.

Pain.

He rips the I.V's from his arms as he leaps from the medical table, saline, blood and god knows what else leaking from the bags and tubes and onto the white tile floor. Every muscle is tensing, but before he can rampage the place, he's curled into the fetal position on the ground by the two-way mirror. His teeth clenched together agonizingly, until he's almost sure that his teeth or jaw is close to shattering. Everything looks so... clear; excruciatingly clear, like going outside after spending the day indoors.

Everything goes black, but not before he could see a group of armored guards swarm him like ravaging ants.

"His muscle mass has grown exponentially, and it seems his mental capacity has been altered as well. We'll have to do some further testing, but I think you've done it!"

He worked to open his eyes, but it was a tiresome chore. After a while, unconsciousness released its hold on him and he could more easily look around. A short, fat scientist sat uncomfortably close to his bed.

"Doc, I'm gunna need you to take a few steps out of my bubble, if you don't mind."

The grin that spread across his robust face was more than a little bizarre, but he did move back an inch or two. Still too close for comfort.

"I'll need to ask you a few questions, K-80 If you don't mind."

"Uh... okay. Shoot."

As much as he didn't like playing twenty questions with the scientists, he was ready to know what the hell was going on, and was more than willing to cooperate.

"Your name is Tyler, is it not?"

"My name is K-80."

That was unexpected. It would have been a witty retort if he had actually meant to say it. It was as if his mouth had already figured out which smart-ass comment he would have made right then.

"No, your name is Tyler. Your Code name, your subject number, your handle is K-80."

Well, seems like this guy was going to stick to literal terms. He wasn't angry with his words, he wasn't at all upset or offput that he was trying to be rude with him. He still kept that uncomfortably calm smile on his face like he knew something K-80 didn't. And he knew the doctor did.

"You were just administered the K-80Y serum, yes?"

"Yes."

He nodded.

"I would like for you to sit up, please."

And he did. K-80 hadn't even really processed the mechanics of doing it. He had just sat up.

"Thank you. Could you get up and walk to the mirror located on the southeast wall for me?"

Once again, he found myself walking to the mirror. He just... knew that this way was southeast. He looked at himself, blinking at the monster he saw in the glass.

I was... Huge. The man had been tall before, and had a good amount of muscle on his bones to start with, but this was basically steroids on steroids. It looked like his muscles were tearing though his flesh, stretch marks lined the subject's skin and only then did he feel the pain.

"Your skin will heal rapidly; do not worry about the pain. You are growing into yourself fairly quick; your skin is working to catch up with the rest of your body."

"I'm going to burst out of my own goddamn skin if I sneeze, Doc. This is the opposite of good."

The fat man shook his head and stood, walking over to the same mirror the man was currently gawking at.

"Then do not sneeze."

I would have laughed if that creepy smile didn't wig me out so much.

"Tyler, you are a success. The other test subjects are being prepared for injections as we speak. They will take longer than you did to prepare... they were not strong enough to outlast some of their own serums; some have not survived their trials. You will start your training here when the others catch up. Until then... you will live comfortably. You are very special. We need you in tip top shape."






Chapter Three: Healing - Danielle



"Everything heals with time; it's the interlude that decides how the scar will form."

That night I had spoken with the plump doctor, his name was Dr. Allen, and was very impressed with my speech patterns considering how long I had been unable to utilize them. Though low mumbles and whispering was my only way of communication for now, I was aware that it should not have been as easy as it was to speak again. The medicines or mutating agents that were swimming around in that serum were quickly making me feel stronger, think with increased efficiency. I explained to my doctor that though the words I felt while I was restrained in that tube had never left my mouth, I still thought them quite loudly to assure myself that I was really still alive. Instead of worrying about my mental health after that statement like a normal doctor would, he seemed to only understand my plight.

It was safe to say that I was becoming more used to having him as a doctor, he was kind and though he never verbally acknowledged that he enjoyed working with me, it was his sympathetic smiling that had been the only real kindness I had seen over the past few years. The others were in this facility for a paycheck and a bit of credit; this man seemed to be personally devoted to this serum and what it stood for.

It made me wonder who he wanted dead.

For such a kind man to wish for something like the W.A.S.P. project to go as planned, he must have some sort of inner demon, or have a colossal score to settle.

In the previous weeks, the doctors on site were tasked with helping me move my arms. They took measurements after every set, which was just about every time I successfully raised my arms above my waist. Though the initial exercising wore me out, I couldn't help but feel like I would be able to lift them again, and again. The little instruments that they used to measure my muscles soon had to be adjusted and readjusted. The only thing I was truly worried about was how slow the process was. I knew that rehabilitating this weak shriveled body would take time, but... having read comic books and the like when I was a kid, I had expected faster results. Though I was tottering around and walking about the laboratory, I still felt like I had the motor skills of a small child instead of an assassin, or whatever the hell they were making my body into. Instead of growing larger, I seemed to only return to my original state, and not as heavy as I had been when I first arrived. 

It was my mind that worried me most. 

My mental skills were growing at an alarming rate, and faster than my muscles; I sometimes found that when Dr. Allen would ask me a question in our daily meetings, I would respond almost faster than I could think it through and still have the answer correct. Like some sort of animal instinct had changed the way my mind worked and simply let my brain do the talking. My verbal filter was no longer controlled by me, sometimes I said things I thought of and sometimes I didn't. There was no mental deliberation during our conversations. But then again, that was only when I was talking to Dr. Allen. It was like the honest and steadfast child inside me was completely dedicated to listening to the doctor, to obeying him.

---

"Are you ready to go into the yard?"

Today was the four-week marker for my therapy sessions and the start of the K-80Y injections. One of my physical therapists, Thomas stood beside my bed, taking note of the machines beside me and removing my single I.V. He was a good doctor, if a little too formal at all times of day. His deep mocha colored skin was always a welcome contrast against the bright, clean white that the lab and the therapy rooms shared. Other than his name, he wasn't very open about himself or his opinion about the study. But something told me that he didn't like what he was doing or where he was. Just the way he stayed his hand before giving me another injection, the look in his eyes when he wrote his reports when he thought I wasn't looking. As much as he seemed to hate his job, I felt internally that he was a good man. Time would tell if I was correct in my assumptions.

"Dr. Allen has allowed you to look yourself over in the mirror, J-80. There will be other patients in the yard, and he thinks that a good look at yourself in the mirror would be beneficial."

I didn't see why it would be necessary, but I didn't see any harm in it. I walked to the mirror, still a slow walk, but after another week of therapy, I wasn't nearly as much of a waddling duck as I had been.

I was still as tall as I ever was.

I felt the same size, around 5'9", 5'10" maybe. I noticed that I still looked rather frail, but much better than the dried up raisin I had been in the tank. I looked much healthier than I thought I would. My hair had been shaved a few months ago, so a boyish length of hair hung from my scalp, I ran my fingers through it to slick it back, give it some sort of styling. I noticed that I had breasts, they had all but shriveled away while I was in stasis, but with the nourishing meals I had been provided since the procedure, they had returned a bit. I grabbed them, not caring if Thomas looked on. Instead of a prune's corpse, I looked like a woman.

"You're right... Very beneficial."

I told him, my voice still light and soft. I sounded more like I was telling him a secret rather than agreeing with his statement. I let go of myself and looked to the door.

"We have been instructed by Dr. Allen that the more mobile groups of the patients are to socialize. It is very important that we see how everyone gets on, since you will be seeing a lot of each other in the coming months."

I nodded, looking at Thomas, who was no longer looking at me. His dark eyes were glued to his notepad, scribbling something down onto it. Probably notes about my progress. If Dr. Allen requested socialization, there couldn't really be any harm in it. As he opened the door, I was met with a blinding light, and I had to shield my eyes.

"Everyone is being monitored by the security cameras. If, at any time, you feel uncomfortable or otherwise ill, please signal the cameras and I will come retrieve you personally."

"Thank you, Thomas."

The 'Yard' was just another room in the facility. Faux grass was rolled onto the floor and the whole place was surrounded by plate glass. No doubt, there would be no way to break the glass and escape... though the need to escape wasn't as... prominent as it had been four weeks ago.

Meandering around the grass-floored room were twenty patients, all wearing the same mental-ward looking garb as I was which consisted of lightly off-white hospital gown shirts and sweatpants. It seemed that the majority of the patients here were male, about 35% of them were female. It made me wonder what had happened to all of the other female patients.

"Subject J-80, reporting to the Yard."

An automated voice called over the intercom, and roughly all twenty sets of eyes turned to gawk at the newcomer instantly.

There were no two alike; every patient seemed to be taking the procedure differently. Some were building muscle in only their arms or their legs; some had grown to a considerable height as well. Most of them were... normal. Even looking exhausted, pale or weak, they weren't all turning into supermen and women yet.

"Danielle... Your name, right?" 

A thin beanpole of a man was at my side before any of the others. His eyes were a striking electric blue, which were almost as attention-grabbing as his large nose. The man was unshaven, and was the proud owner of a scraggly beard that grew sparsely from the edge of his bottom-lip to just below his wildly protruding Adam's apple. He was as pale as a ghost, though perhaps a bit jaundice; a burnt yellow decorated his eye sockets and the areas below his ears. I couldn't help but think that I had seen him before; perhaps we had crossed paths in the facility? No... I would definitely remember seeing another patient.

"Yeah, but I don't remember introducing myself."

I counter, curious as to how he knew my name from before all this.

"We went to school together... didn't hang out much. I'm Levi... AV club."

That sounded about right, though I didn't think I would have been able to come to that conclusion on my own, he hadn't really given me much time to process him or his appearance. 

"I don't think I remember your eyes being that color."

He nodded at that, his eyes shifting to the side, looking at the cameras briefly before bringing them back to me.

"Seems like this new serum doesn't work the same on everybody, and probably why they aren't dancing around and getting freaky in the labs yet. I've talked to everyone -personal curiosity- and it seems like everyone has part, and only part, of the equation."

He lifted his hand and gestured to all of the other patients, none of whom seemed to notice or care that they were being talked about.

"Strength, agility, smarts... Some of them have two of the three... the rest, only one. Right now, it seems that only three patients have all three, but have not met their full potential. You are supposedly one of them."

"Me?"

It felt like I had been hit with a 2X4. How would he make that assumption? And why? I still had to walk everywhere and whisper-chat with anyone who was worth talking to.

"You are J-80, the first test subject after K-80 who took the serum. Then there's I-80... No one's seen him yet. We were expecting him to come out of that door before you..."

He looked unsettled about that part. Had something happened to I-80?

"Maybe he wasn't ready for socialization. Maybe he can't talk yet."

He squinted, looking me over again.

"So you were a tuber. Me too. It seems that the majority of the girls and the smaller of us guys were tubers, the big guys and the ones who were too fat for the tubes are slabbers... Though, I'm sure there's a scientific reason for putting us where we were, this is how I'm coping."

I nodded, looking at him a bit more. He was fairly skinny, probably a side-effect of the tube. We couldn't work on any of those muscles if we were stuck in stasis the whole time.

"I don't think calling us stretchers and tubers would be good for the social experiment, Levi."

I mumbled, keeping my voice down, not that any of them could hear me before.

"Why not?"

"Splitting people into separate groups often leads to disorder... Could be one of those scientific reasons you were mentioning before. And I can see that these 'slabbers' are physically stronger than us 'tubers', which means that their mental abilities aren't as developed as ours, which also means they may get aggressive if they think they are being made fun of. No need to create bullies for ourselves here, I remember high school just as well as you do, Levi."

He looked as if he were about to argue, then a light flashed in his painfully blue eyes.

"See! I told you that you were brilliant. Alright, I'll keep the nicknames to myself... But still, you need to talk with the other... ones like us, okay? As far as I can tell, it's a better social experience. It doesn't seem like the other guys were intelligent at all before their stay here."

I nodded, thinking to myself that that was a good thing to know. Levi, or as his nametag stitched to his button-down read, 'X-20' scurried away, lightning quick and out of my sight before I could get another word in.

"X-20..."

I said aloud to myself, hoping to remember his patient number and his real name alike. I looked around at the other patients and sighed, it was supposed to be time to socialize, I suppose now was as good time as any.

"'Ello, Danny."

I nearly wet myself at the sound of a little accented voice behind me. I jumped, up and away from the sound to see the shortest patient on the grounds.

"I get that a lot."

I caught my breath, feeling about five years older by the scare. I peered down at the patient, seeing an extremely short girl, and her height was making me doubt the age I could guess she was.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people; some of these guys are strong enough to squish you like a bug."

"But def'nitely not as quick."

I smirked at that, looking her over. She was maybe 4'9", but the sheer tininess of her limbs made it seem as if she was even smaller. Perhaps she had dwarfism before the serum?

"I should get the 'liminaries out of the way. Name badge says Z-10, that's what I p'fer. No, wasn't as small as I was when I came 'ere. Guess the serum had a different task for me th'n you."

"Different task?"

"Big guys 'ere are obviously in the facility for muscle... the weaklin's 'ere are usually some sort' a smart... Me, I'm fast and 'ard to see."

She looked almost gray; her hair was a dry shade of blonde. Actually, her entire appearance was... dull. She was small, unassuming... if you weren't focusing directly on her, it would be easy to lose sight of her.

"So, you're the stealth part of the W.A.S.P. Project, then. Makes sense."

Before she could respond, a loud buzzing drew everyone's eyes to the door.

"Subject K-80, reporting to the Yard."

The door slid open and revealed the largest human being I have ever seen, even larger than the man who had carried to the briefcase with Dr. Allen.

Dozens of gasps erupted around the Yard, amazed at the sheer size of the man. So, this was 'K-80'. This was the subject who first tasted the effects of the K-80Y Serum, thus the name.

He ducked through the doorway, marking his height at, well at least around seven or eight feet tall. The muscles that covered his body were monstrous, and it seemed that his skin was having a hard time keeping it all inside. Little hairline stretch-marks covered the areas around his neck, visible joints and ankles. It seemed they hadn't been able to find him a suitable sized show, as he was barefoot right now.

"That's a big guy..."

Z-10 disappeared from my side and went god knows where, probably avoiding the situation and scoping out the place somewhere where the others couldn't see her.

As the man lumbered through the yard, it seemed he was walking quite well. There was no hesitation in his step; it seemed he was used to walking around in his new skin. He huffed, running his large fingers through his hair and slicking it back.

No one dared walk up to him or try to make conversation. Even Levi was staying far away from him; probably afraid he would take a false step and get crushed by those massive bare feet. 

He walked to one of the benches on the far edges of the room, rested his hand atop it, and then thought better of it before taking a seat on the grass against the glass barrier.

I had to talk to him. He had been on the serum far longer than any of the rest of us... He had to know something. I walked over to him, trying to stay calm. I tried to imagine him as a large teddy bear, or a dog. Anything but the gigantor he actually was. It didn't work.

"Hey."

I sat in front of him, giving up my barely superior height and sitting with him on the grass. 

"Hi."

His voice wasn't as menacing as his stature was, but it was still rumbling and deep. He didn't sound like he was going to go on a rampage and smash everybody... but there wasn't much I could tell with a single syllable.

"I hear that you may possess the three skills this project was made for."

I said, hoping he would elaborate on my words.

"Maybe."

Never mind. 

"You're J-80."

It wasn't a question, he knew who I was. I nodded, deciding it was best to keep everything honest with this guy.

"Yeah, and you're K-80. I was the first after you to take the serum. I hope you had more fun than I did."

"No. Not really."

He retorted quickly, looking me over. This guy looked like a superhero, how on earth was he supposed to be a Stealthy anything? If his size wasn't attention drawing enough, his footsteps were basically thunderclaps.

"At least I can walk now. Were you on a slab or in a tube?"

"Tube? Why the hell would they put people in a tube?"

I pointed to myself to let him know that I was one of the people who were put in a tube. I couldn't help the slight tremble my body at the thought of that slimy chamber.

"I don't know. It seems that the smaller of us were put into tubes... That's why it probably took so long for the 'social experiment'. None of us could walk. I still find myself tripping over my own feet sometimes."

He shook his head, the front-most strands of his hair seeming to fall a bit from their place atop his head. He seemed unhappy to hear that, and the tinge of red forming on his ears suggested... guilt? Maybe anger, I really couldn't tell.

"Do you know what they are training us for? They put me in that tube and gave me the silent treatment for years..."

The sharp downturn of his lip suggested that he hadn't liked something I had said. His expression quickly melted back into indifference before I could get a better read on him.

"Do you know what the Project is called?"

"W.A.S.P. project... Weaponised Altered Stealth Persona..."

He shook his head.

"My W.A.S.P is Strength. Yours is Stealth. Someone here must have Sense. They, the scientists, are looking for the subjects who show the most promise. I'm not sure what they have planned for us... but-"

Another loud buzz interrupted K-80's train of thought.

"J-80, report to the therapy wing immediately."

The doors slid open and Thomas was waiting, a grim look on his face. He beckoned me to come with him and I gave an apologetic look to my companion.

"Do not tell them what we've been talking about."

He gave me a stern glare before turning his head, obviously done with the conversation. I frowned and got up, walking back toward the doors. They hadn't really given me much time to 'socialize'. 

Thomas closed the door by way of the panel on the wall, a hand on my shoulder to lead me to the therapy wing. But... it seemed he was leading me in the wrong direction.

"Thomas... The therapy room isn't down the South hall..."

He didn't answer me; he didn't even look at me. His hand stayed on my shoulder, pressing me to walk faster. It was only after we passed through the door that I remembered to lead to the south wing, that he broke his silence.

"Stay quiet. There's something you need to see."





Chapter Four: Social-Butterfly - Tyler


"If two men speak, they will not hear one another. If two men listen, they will only hear silence."

He had little to no idea why the scientists thought that socialization would be necessary or helpful at all. Why on earth would they need a bunch of trained killers and/or spies to be friendly with one another? Tyler had dozens of possible ideas... but no assurances for any one of them. For all he knew, it was only for the simple purpose of seeing if the subjects could understand that the other patients in this room had the same purpose? Maybe it was to see if they could handle communication at this point, if they could speak properly. Would they eventually break down and start tearing apart people that tried to talk to them, since they were made to be so autonomous?

Whatever the answer was, it it gave Tyler a uncomfortably tight headache, so he decided to drop it with himself for the time being. There was an ample amount of distraction in this room for now anyway.

No one spoke to subject K-80, the stares he had first received upon entering the Yard were short-lived; those eyes soon fought to avoid him. In his new skin, he felt like the warden, someone to be feared and collectively hated in secret for no other reason than some sort of self-ordained sense of superiority. Perhaps they were correct in assuming this, who knows how their own transformations were coming along... Were they getting as kind of treatment as I was? 

Only after finding a decent spot to park it on - the floor - , did anyone try to go forward with the Socialization Experiment with him.

A woman, a bit younger than him, at least in appearance, approached. She was a great deal shorter than he was in stature, but still had a decent few inches above even some of the guys who had been put into the program. She had boyish dark hair, and an angular face. The stern look on her face was only marred by the obvious fear she had for the karge man sitting on the ground before her. Her eyes stayed put on the ground, like she was debating whether or not it was a good idea to give conversation a try, until one side of her mind eventually won the battle.

"Hey." She had a small voice, like she wasn't accustomed to speaking at all. Hell, maybe she wasn't, doctors weren't a very interesting or friendly bunch, especially the nerdy few he found himself accompanied by.

"Hi." K-80 honestly didn't know what to say, he was more than eager to get back to his own superiorly comfortable room that Dr. Allen had given to him. There wasn't a television, since the group wasn't allowed to view current events and whatnot, but there was a decent sound system for him to relax and listen to. There wasn't much else to do other than physical training for Dr. Allen's records for Subject K-80.

"I hear that you may possess the three skills this project was made for..." So, this is how this little chat was going to be. Information mining. She really was as smart as she looked. Like a stern librarian, but not nearly as craggy and bitter. More like the one who would glare at you for talking aloud to someone else, instead of outright chucking a book at you from across the room.

"Maybe." The look in her eyes told his brain not to give her too much information about the project, not that he knew anything more than the basics myself. But something inside of him fought the urge to share even the tiniest detail. Was this part of the program's security? Maybe it was in their code now, to keep secrets.

"You're J-80." The girl who got the serum right after he had. Dr. Allen talked a lot about another test subject who was really showing signs of improvement. And honestly, she was the only one here who didn't look completely goofy, himself included in that statement. Her tone seemed level and calm.

"Yeah, and you're K-80. I was the first after you to take the serum. I hope you had more fun than I did."

Never mind. She was definitely bitter. Her eyes were remarkably cold for small-town. She needed to work on her conversational skills, though he kept in mind that the Yard was for exactly that.

"Not really." He shot back at her. There was that brain battle again, she had those gears turning. He took the extra time to give her a longer look. She was really well put together, if a bit thin. Geez, didn't they feed her? Poor thing looked like a stick with a face.

"At least I can walk now. Were you on a slab or in a tube?" Tyler made a face, looking at her like she had spoken some other language to him. It was jarring.

"Tube? Why the hell would they put people in a tube?" He noted that she herself turned a little green when he repeated the word back to her, even though She had been the one to bring it up. Her eyes looked soulless at that moment, like her body was empty and only the husk stared back at him.

"I don't know. It seems that the smaller of us were put into tubes... That's why it probably took so long for the 'social experiment'. None of us could walk. I still find myself tripping over my own feet sometimes."

He shook his head at her words, his stomach twisting as she spoke. The thought of being so... emaciated, it was terrifying. 

"Do you know what they are training us for? They put me in that tube and gave me the silent treatment for years..."

Every word out of this woman's mouth made a dagger pierce his chest, deeper and deeper. He wanted her to stop talking, he forced himself to block out the uncomfortable feeling that was trying to overtake him. Maybe... talking to someone about the project would be so terrible...

"Do you know what the Project is called?"

She answered quickly back as soon as he asked, probably fighting her inner instinct for secrecy with speed. "W.A.S.P. project... Weaponised Altered Stealth Persona..."

He shook his head. She was mostly correct, but W.A.S.P stood for different things for different people.

"My W.A.S.P is Strength. Yours is Stealth. Someone here must have Sense. They, the scientists, are looking for the subjects who show the most promise. I'm not sure what they have planned for us... but-"

Another loud buzz interrupted K-80's train of thought. He growled internally, hating the grating sound in his ears.

"J-80, report to the therapy wing immediately."

She looked at Tyler with a sad, "I'm sorry" look. He felt himself tangle inside with frustration, he wished he had sought her out instead of waiting like a log, maybe tried to have a longer conversation. Anybody but the goddamn doctors. 

"Do not tell them what we've been talking about." Was all he could muster as a goodbye, hoping that his words would plant the seed for her to return to him with more information about the project.

While he relaxed in the yard, met a very 'intriguing', and when he thought intriguing he meant completely uninteresting and bland, person by the name of Rad. His nametag read H-90, but his actual name had to be Bradley, considering the government wouldn't choose a man named Rad to work for them unless they wanted a simple grunt. He had military training, but it seemed to be the only thing he talked about, or even alluded to know. He had a decent musculature, but wasn't taking to the serum like Tyler had been. But then, he probably wasn't the size that he had been to begin with either.

"I'm not even sure how long this serum is supposed to take, you seem to have gotten a full dose!" He sounded extremely jealous, and the red tint that was currently spreading through his face made Tyler wonder if he wasn't also on 'Roids. He had no idea why the doctors would allow him medication like that in the program, so it had to have been mental. That temper was flaring, and The bigger man of the two didn't want to have to knock the poor bastard out.

"Calm down. I'm K-80, Rad. I just got the dose first." Tyler mumbled, suddenly really not in the mood to talk to a man-child. This was only successful in making him more angry than he already was; Rad quickly stood and tried to shove him. His shove was pathetic to say the least since he only managed to move himself further away by the push. His own weakness only enraged the little bull and he cranked back his fist for a swing at Tyler's face. Self-preservation went out the window while Tyler's curiosity reigned, as he simply let the man's fist connect with his face. The resounding crunch, the horrified and agonized face the smaller man made signaled that either his knuckles or his wrist was broken. He squealed a moment before he leapt at the offending beast, actually knocking Tyler back from his seated position and onto the faux grass floor. With his good hand, he proceeded to attempt to wail on his 'victim', but other than the minor irritation he was causing with Tyler's stretched-tight skin, he wasn't doing any damage to anyone but himself.

"Freak! You probably aren't even human! Soldier, my ass!" He screamed, and it set off some sort of trigger in Tyler's brain. The condescending tone of his voice was like a mad buzzing in the large man's ear, and the sight of his face connected red lines between the two, Tyler felt his blood boil. On instinct, one that had only briefly crossed his mind, subject K-80 lifted his fist into Rad's face. It connected like a freight train and the crunch that his nose and jaw made was exceedingly louder than the snapping of his hand.

Sirens went off all around faster than Tyler could hear an echo and many of the other subjects fled into different corners of the room, cowering like beaten mutts. The way they hid sent a flare of ache into Tyler's chest. What were they afraid of? Were the scientists beating them? Torturing them? Or even worse... Were they afraid of me?

Surely the force of the punch had broken the man's face, but Tyler was hoping that there wasn't going to be a severe punishment for it. The little shit had asked for it, and I'd be damned if I wasn't hospitable.

Several white-scrub-wearing orderlies swarmed the yard, each one finding their own subject to reassure or comfort, but there was a whopping total of three orderlies to get the little bull onto a gurney and take him back through the door K-80 had entered from not too long ago. A few minutes went by and the only thing that bred eagerly in his mind were the possible reasons why there hadn't been a team to take him back to his room yet. Looking around at the other subjects, it was clear that they were thinking the same thing. I had just gotten away with breaking someone's face. That couldn't be right. That alone wasn't even legal outside the facility, how did it fly in here?

After another hour or so, though he wasn't exactly sure how much time exactly had passed because of the lack of a time-keeping device anywhere in the room(that he could readily see anyway), when the other subjects had begun to go back to their rooms, escorted by their orderlies, Tyler only waited. He felt the need to be the last one on the yard. What he was waiting for, he wasn't sure, but the gut feeling that was gnawing at his insides protested any time he thought about getting up and signaling to the cameras that he was ready to go.

The artificial grass felt cold. Like the temperature room had been given an extra burst of cold to get the stragglers off the yard. Tyler refused to move. Curiosity struck again and he wondered how far they would go to get him out without actually sending out an orderly? His curiosity was not sated, because as he thought that, the little fat doctor emerged from the door to walk to his side. Man, how he could move around as easily as he did astounded me. He was like a little pig, waddling around the yard toward me, wiping his sweaty brow every few feet or so.

"Having fun out here, boy?" There wasn't any anger or annoyance in his voice, he was merely asking a question. Best to answer honestly.

"Sort of, I bloodied my hands up a bit." Tyler said, looking down at the evidence of his  previous very one-sided fight. His knuckles were rather bloody.

"Yes, I witnessed that. Why did you choose to strike the man?" He asked, much like a kindergarten teacher would ask a child why he pulled a little girl's pony-tail.

"He was being disrespectful." Tyler said, furrowing his brow when he spoke, finding that though he had not chosen those words, they rang true.

The man nodded slowly, a thoughtful look crossing his face and he smiled. 

"You are a leader, Tyler. Your mind is telling you to weed out the ones who will not follow. It's alright. I agree. I also witnessed you speaking to Miss Danielle." He had taken nearly three pages of notes on their body language alone. 

"Who?" Dr. Allen smiled at my failed feigning of ignorance. He chuckled, circling something on his paperwork. 

"Miss Danielle will be a wonderful aid to you... Or perhaps your competition for leadership. She surprises me every day." J-80? Competition? Tyler had to admit that she was smart, but he wasn't sure about leading. He wanted to see her again to talk about this project further. 

"She's doing some training right now... Perhaps we can arrange more Yard time for the both of you when she is done." Tyler would have been happy to hear it, except Dr. Allen seemed unhappy for once at the mention of training. If anything, he looked worried. 

Somewhere close to the south lab, Tyler swore he heard the sound of screaming.