2 The Fight Between Beasts and The Break Out

POV - 3rd Person, Lt. General Thaddeus E. Ross

Ross wasn't sure what he was looking at, but he was entirely sure it was what he'd been searching for. He'd just watched that naked behemoth manhandle a bear and rip it apart - but it was the new arrival that put Ross on edge.

'That behemoth is just like Banner when he transforms. Mindless, feral, unfocused,' he thought before turning his eyes to the ramrod straight figure approaching the center of the training room, 'But this thing...this thing is a soldier. You can see it in the way it holds itself, the way it moves,' he leaned forward in his chair, only sparing a glance to the side to a man he'd worked with during Vietnam - Colonel Thomas Hyndfield. A man who could've become a Lt. General just like him but refused on the account that he wanted to remain viable for participation in field operations.

But now Ross knew the real reason. This project was ran by a small crew - a skeleton crew, really - and the government needed someone high-ranked enough to oversee the project from a military standpoint but low-ranked enough that if the project was discovered, they could throw them under the bus.

He grimaced, shaking his head as he remembered all those years ago when Banner turned into that 'thing' and how the government had practically turned their back on Ross.

'Nevermind that and back to what matters - Hyndfield. A brilliant soldier, an even better leader. Unlike an army grunt, he reeked independence; a side effect of being a special forces operator turned army colonel,' thought Ross before turning his gaze back to the two figures who were now facing off against one another.

The behemoth - X-3 series super soldier, if Ross remembered correctly - began walking toward the new arrival with obviously aggressive intent. It dropped to the floor, the collar around it's neck flaring to life before stopping just as Hyndfield leaned forward and spoke into a microphone near him, "X-CA001, kill the failed product. But wait for it to recover fully before you do so."

X-CA001 turned to look right at all of them, like it could see through the one-way glass between it and the group behind it, and nodded before turning back to the X-3 series. It was somewhat unnerving, Ross had to admit.

Next to him, a weasel-like scientist shuddered as he flinched away from the mirror, "Can it see us? I thought you said this was one-way glass!?"

"Relax, James," Hyndfield scoffed, "He can't see us but he has a brain; he knows we're no doubt watching and the only place we could be watching through is through the glass in front of us. He may have feline DNA in him but he's far from stupid. If I had to say, I'd say he's more intelligent than most people in this room, myself included."

'Big words from Hyndfield, huh?' Ross thought in contempt, still looking at the two of the so-called super soldiers. The X-3 was rapidly recovering and was now standing up, albeit groggily and what surprised Ross was that X-CA001 wasn't going for the attack - he was obeying the order given by Hyndfield. Ross' eyes scanned over the well dressed thing's body, looking for anything like the collar the X-3 was wearing...but he found nothing. 'That thing is willingly following orders,' the thought came across Ross' mind and his earlier thought of this being what he needed was being solidified even further.

The X-3 was fully recovered after what was known to them as an inhuman amount of voltage - enough to kill a human, as Hyndfield had told them - which shocked Ross quite a bit. Though he hid it well, he was becoming enthralled with the possibilities of this project.

Yet he kept his calm, 'First we need to see how well this successful product fights,' Ross told himself, settling into his seat as he looked unblinkingly at the two things squaring up against each other.

The X-3 was the first to attack, sending a brutal swipe that was aimed at it's opponents head. It's arm blurred, so much so that Ross couldn't even follow the attack. If it were him getting attacked...he'd be a goner.

But X-CA001 wasn't Ross.

It dodged under the swipe and sent a brutal shovel hook into the X-3's liver before following it up with a cross that was even quicker than the X-3's swipe, straight into the behemoth's throat. The brutal efficiency and bestial power of the moves caught Ross' eye and his hope for a squad of these things to take on Banner was growing and growing inside his chest.

The X-3 was just as durable as it was big, however, and took the moves in it's stride as it lunged for X-CA001, aiming to bring it's opponent to the ground where it could use it's superior size and weight for a grapple.

Except X-CA001 showed such calm and focus as it took a half-step back, torqued it's body around and lifted it's foot up, performing a perfect back kick which dug into the X-3's metal-like muscles and sent it flying back a few meters.

The behemoth rolled across the floor, blood trailing from it's opened maw - both it's own blood and the still wet blood from the bear it's been devouring just a few moments ago.

"Stop playing with your food, X-CA001. Kill it," Hyndfield spoke with a harsh shout into the microphone, obviously upset his prized subject hadn't finished the X-3 instantly.

Ross just gave him a sidelong glance before shaking his head, 'Perfectionist,' he mentally scoffed before looking back to the fight. X-CA001 seemed unperturbed by the order/scolding it had been given and simply calmly walked toward the X-3 with a calm gait. The Lt. General saw the thing's forearms flex and claws came out the ends of it's fingers, showing it's normal nails had just been disguised claws from the very beginning - retractable ones.

The X-3 got up, blood dribbling down it's chin, and snarled before rushing X-CA001 again.

This time it truly was a massacre.

X-CA001 speared it's hand through the X-3's throat, cleaving through the flesh with ease before it ripped it's hand back and thrust it forth once more, sending it's clawed hand straight through the X-3's chest, through it's heart and out the back of it's ribcage. The X-3 dropped to the ground, lifeless, after X-CA001 tore it's arm free from it's chest.

"Well done, X-CA001. Standby for more orders," Hyndfield said, pride obvious in his voice as he took his finger off the intercom button and turned to look at the rest of the people in the room, "So, what do you think?"

"It's definitely impressive, Hyndfield," Ross spoke up, scratching along his jawline, "But what was it supposed to show us? All we saw was it killing one of your failed products. Hardly a stunning resume, is it?"

Hyndfield narrowed his eyes over at Ross before smiling in contempt, "That failed product would rip through a few dozen squads of men before it was taken down, and X-CA001 took it down without receiving a single injury. Not only that, he has intelligence, problem-solving skills and a tactical genius above and beyond any soldier under your command. Still unsure what this test showed, Ross? It's the finished product. Besides, I had a feeling you'd say some horse shit like this," Hyndfield said, reaching under his seat and pulling out a file and throwing it onto Ross' lap, "Have a look at that mission report and tell me you have a soldier under your command that could get it done on their own."

Ross picked up the mission report and flicked through it. The more he read, the more shocked he became. He looked up at Hyndfield, "You field tested this thing? How'd you get approval for it?"

"I've got friends in high places who want this to succeed. Getting approval was a piece of cake because of it," Hyndfield smirked smugly over at Ross, "Is it enough to ease your worries?"

Ross looked at Hyndfield before down at the report. X-CA001 had completed a damn near impossible mission, 'Imagine what a squad of them could do,' Ross thought in wonder, his skepticism disappearing as he shared the smirk Hyndfield was wearing, "Consider my worries eased, Hyndfield. A squad of these guys could win a war before it even started."

"Exactly," Hyndfield said before he stood and walked to the front of the room, putting himself between the multiple scientists, government personnel and the one-way glass that looked into the room where X-CA001 was still standing, "He's stronger, faster, smarter, he heals quick enough that bullet wounds would hardly stop him, let alone something simple like a stab wound--and he's intelligent enough to think around any problem and obstacle that pops up in front of him during a mission. But most of all, he's got that killer instinct you can only find in predatory animals. You wanted a perfect soldier?" Hyndfield asked, looking specifically at some men in black suits and sunglasses toward the back of the room, before pointing at X-CA001 through the glass, "Well, there you have him."

. . .

POV Change - First Person, X-CA001

As I looked up at the one-way glass, I didn't know what they were talking about but I knew they were talking. My eyes could pick up the minute vibrations on the glass and while faint, I could hear very muffled speech from Hyndfield - if the room wasn't so well soundproofed, I'd no doubt be able to hear everything they were saying.

Sadly, they'd already sorted that problem out by the time I got into this body.

But it's of no consequence. It won't affect my plan, so I'm content with just standing here, acting the part of the ever-faithful puppet soldier.

I flicked off what blood was still on my hand and arm but it'd take more than that to get rid of some of the more persistent patches of blood and gore that had attached to my claws, so I spent the next few minutes picking it from under them.

Just as I was done with this and retracted my claws, the door opened to my side and in walked the same five people who'd entered my room this morning.

"X-CA001, please vacate the room and return to your quarters," Hyndfield's voice boomed through the speakers and the joyful tone in his voice was as clear as day - whatever they were talking about had obviously gone well. From what I'd just gone through, this was no doubt a demonstration. Hyndfield being happy meant more of me would soon be getting made because he'd gained approval and/or funding.

Shame that'll never happen, Hyndfield.

Turning to the five-man squad I walked for the door as they surrounded me once more. We were met by another five-man squad and the ten of them surrounded me as we walked through the corridor back to my cell.

I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. The training at this facility was barbaric...but it was no doubt effective.

I entered a state of pure focus. A state where my senses and inhuman reflexes were maximized.

A state where I was the perfect killing machine.

My eyes opened and my claws came out silently, as usual, and with graceful savagery, I span on my heels and faced the four mean behind me. I saw their eyes widen in shock but before they could react, I was upon them.

The middle two were removed quickly, a knife hand thrust through their necks and severing their spinal cord. Not a second to spare, I ripped both of my hands sideways, tearing through their throats and slicing through their comrades' throats not too far from them. Four down, and I still had so much work to do.

I'd moved and done this so quickly, their bodies hadn't even fallen to the ground yet, which allowed me to use the two in the middle as a spring board as I launched myself at the front four.

While I rocketed through the air, I dispatched the two guards who'd been on either side of me in the middle of the formation, one with a hand slicing his head clean off and another with my foot doing the same thing. Did you think only my hands had claws?

Spinning to kill off some momentum, I landed on the balls of my feet and let myself crouch below the slowly rising rifles of the guards in front of me.

They realized that I was lower now but they couldn't react.

Their movements were like that of a snail's in my eyes. So slow. So sluggish. No grace. Ugly.

I flexed my calves and blasted across the small space between me and the guard I was aiming for. I put my hand through his chest - body armor and all - and ripped out what was left of his heart. His green eyes widened and I stared them down as I pulled the pistol out of his hip holster.

The slow guards couldn't even react to this as I lifted the gun and put a bullet in each of their heads. Quick, painless, merciful.

I let out a breath of air and heard the bodies around me drop to the ground.

I felt nothing. No guilt. No joy. Just acceptance. I bent down and began taking off one of the guard's vests - not for protection but for it's ability to hold magazines and whatnot. I slipped it on and picked up their rifle plus all the ammo I could carry. There were no frag grenades but they had plenty of tear gas and flashbangs, so I took them and hooked them to the vest - two of each.

Once I'd done this and slung the rifle's strap over my head, I held up my left arm, palm faced up and brought my index finger to the hairless skin on the bottom of my forearm.

Taking a deep breath, I remembered my training on how to deal with pain and brought down the clawed finger, digging and cutting into the flesh. It was a hard battle - my flesh was dense as hell and durable to boot, so each inch of the incision was like trying to cut through stone or metal.

But I got it done, sweat beginning to pour down my face from the ridiculous amount of pain from my action. I held the cut flesh apart, stopping it from healing and dug into my arm. My goal? To reach my bone.

Digging around was painful - even more so than the cutting - but it had to be done. I had to remove it.

Found it.

I gripped what I knew was there and I tugged at it. It was hard to grip with all the blood covering my fingers and making the thing I was trying to grab all slippery but superhuman grip strength and claws sure do come in handy during these types of situations. Pain flared up my arms, making me clench my teeth and groan as I felt something along my Radius crack and my hand finally flew out of my arm, my claws holding something.

The flesh of my arm soon began healing, knitting itself together and I looked down at the device held between my index finger and thumb.

A tracking beacon.

I'd gone over my memories and the dream I'd had prior to waking up in this body, and this was the only one. The only tracking beacon: which meant it was the only way to track me down. God knows the government isn't gonna be okay with losing me, a multi-billion dollar weapon.

Dropping the tracking beacon among the dead guards, the hallway instantly went dark as the lights switched off before they switched back on, except they were now red.

An alarm blared through the corridor and, presumably, the rest of the facility.

Show time, I guess.

Picking up into a sprint, I made my way to my first destination: the server room. Can't have them making anymore of me, after all.

I'd seen a map of this facility once during the dream and this body's photographic memory was easily able to put that to use, which meant I was at my destination in no time due to my impossible speed and the map inside my head. Entering the room, I was met by servers and monitors to access them.

I walked in and logged into one of them - more like hacked into it, but let's not dwell on that.

Cyber security and how to break into it was obvious a part of my training, after all.

Going through everything, I deleted it all. I even whipped up a pretty nasty virus that would make these servers completely unusable and let it loose on the whole network. I scrubbed my existence from the records of everything--well, not everything. I'm clever but I can't get rid of EVERYTHING about me. But I can get rid of enough that the stuff left over is just useless drivel and stuff that can't be used for anything useful.

So, every experiment, every result, every bit of knowledge discovered through this specific program? It just went 'poof' and disappeared forever. Digitally, anyway.

Once that was done, I left everything in disorder as I began ripping through the physical servers themselves. Every little helps, right?

. . .

It was all done. I'd ran rampant through the facility, setting shit on fire, killing guards and scientists who'd had a hand in my creation and then clearing their personal computers and files of any useful knowledge. It hadn't gone perfectly - a few ambushes I'd stupidly fallen for had left me with a few bullets holes in my tank top but I was fine. Healing factors are truly helpful for this type of stuff.

That stuff aside, I was making my way out of the facility now. I'd killed Hyndfield and the rest of the people who'd viewed my performance against one of my predecessors - One of them had an incredibly familiar name but I pushed that thought out of my head.

I was on my way to my last stop. Frederick. The pillar behind my creation. Without him, there'd be no me.

I opened the door and there he was in his office.

...Though I guess you could call this a cell, for him. He was similar to me, in an odd way. From what I could gather over my time here, Frederick seemed to be being held here against his will because he wanted no part in the project anymore now that he knew exactly what Hyndfield wanted it all for. And now he sat there, slumped in his chair, a glass of liquor in his hand.

"So...Frankenstein's monster has come to kill Frankenstein, after all?" he sardonically spoke up - but I felt more like he was mocking himself rather than me.

I took a step forward and met his black, sunken and defeated eyes with my own blue ones, "...Yes. I can't allow you to go out and make more of me. People know you can, and they will make you. The easiest way to circumvent that is to remove you," I explained with an indifferent voice, my face a mask of calm.

All he did in reply was sigh and take a swig of the last of the amber liquid in his glass. He poured himself another, "Do you wanna share a drink with me, X-CA001? In a way, I'm your father, you know?" he grinned, as if he was mocking himself.

"No," I shook my head, "I don't quite trust you enough to drink anything you've touched."

"Smart," Frederick smiled, his black hair swaying as he shook his head, "We made you too well. Too good. I'd always thought it was weird you followed our orders so obediently. Answer a dying man's final question, will you? Why did you rebel? Do you have a reason?"

I narrowed my eyes and lifted the rifle to point at his head, "...I want to see the world. I want to experience it as something other than a mission objective. I want to make friends who I can experience the world with. Is it so hard to imagine that my reason was simply for freedom?" I answered after a moment of silence, deliberating mentally about whether I should answer or not.

Frederick smiled - and for this time it seemed genuine - before he answered, "No, it's perfectly natural. I'm just glad I actually made something with humanity. Something that wanted freedom. Unlike all the others who'd kill for little more than anger, hatred or instincts," he sighed, his smile fading, "I don't know what you plan to do first, X-CA001, but how about picking a name for yourself?"

The man's calmness and acceptance of death were unnerving. I knew if I were faced with death like him, I would fight and struggle no matter how futile those actions were.

I sniffed the air and felt something was odd. At first, I thought he'd planned something to kill me.

...But I quickly realized what was unusual with the air. It was his scent. Most people smell of anxiety, fear or happiness--those are the most common and the easiest to smell. But this man, he smelled of relief. Of acceptance. He'd...he'd given up. He wanted death.

I wanted to ask why but I quickly realized it didn't matter.

"...Arthur. I'll call myself Arthur from now on," I answered the man's last sentence and he smiled and closed his eyes.

And I pulled the trigger.

*Bang!*

. . .

I'd ditched my dirty clothes, the rifle, the vest and most of the ammo, but I'd kept the pistol and a few mags, tucked into the band of my new jeans next to the pistol.

I'd just stolen these from a nearby store and I was now slinking from alleyway to alleyway, keeping to the darkness as I looked for a safe place to set up a temporary base. A place where I could gather my thoughts.

I had the time. Not like they can send a search party out for me - they didn't know what I looked like. I'd removed every instance of CCTV footage with me in it, along with the medical pictures taken of me. I was now pretty much a ghost - no one knew who I was or where I was. My first goal? Getting an identity.

Scaling a wall, my claws easily digging into the brick of the building, I crawled to the top of the building and quickly realized where I was.

New York City.

...To think they had the facility under this place. Pretty ballsy but I guess no one would look underneath this place for a secret government facility filled with human-animal hybrids, huh?

That's when I saw it. An abomination reaching into the sky of midtown Manhattan. A skyscraper like most of the others but it had an extra amount of gaudiness that screamed 'Hey, look at me!' as it stood out like a sore thumb.

How did I only just realize this? How? How? How?

Written across the front of the building, facing right at me, were the bold letters:

Stark.

That's when it came to me, one of the people near Hyndfield - a Lt. General named Thaddeus Ross. I realized who he was now. Betty Ross' dad and the guy who'd been hunting Bruce Banner down ever since he became the Hulk. This...this is the MCU?

Fucking hell.