X-CA001

I had a dream. A dream full of pain and experiments and training.

A dream so dreadful, so full of meaningless suffering, that I could never imagine undergoing such treatment.

The me in that dream didn't even have a real name. They were called X-CA001. They were taught military strategy, tactics and skills, and the only thing they were tutored on were how to efficiently kill. Brutal martial arts training, relentless marksmanship training and tests--every day was a fight to survive in one way or another.

X-CA001 killed a living human when he turned 10. He learnt how to torture and extract information from a target by the time he was 11.

He wasn't raised as a person - as a living being - he was raised as a weapon. A soldier.

How is it possible that he could do these things at such a young age? Because X-CA001 was special. He was the product of a super soldier program. I learnt this through a different section of the dream - a section where I observed talks between two men.

One was a Colonel, called Thomas Hyndfield, who was a decorated war veteran who'd ran with a very successful black ops unit during the cold war in Korea and then later in Vietnam for the US Government. He rose through the ranks and eventually ended up where he was currently - but he was unsatisfied with just better equipment. The idea one day occurred to him - why not produce better soldiers?

He started with advanced training, and it worked. But it only worked so much. So he moved onward to new ideas and new methods, being backed by the US Government. Performance enhancing combat drugs, genetic selection for certain traits that are good for soldiers, certain diets and exercises that promoted better physiques--all the ideas were successes...but not to Thomas. No, the colonel wanted more. He wanted the perfect soldier.

And it appeared to him that a mere human couldn't be the soldier he wanted. The very thought shattered him.

He saw the devastation in Korea. In Vietnam. In a hundred other places. Thousands--tens of thousands of people, dying. But if he could produce his perfect soldier, a squad of them could win wars before they even began. Before anyone died.

His cause was righteous...but his obsession was slowly unraveling him mentally.

But in a spark of luck, he came across a paper by a doctor. Called a genius by some, he was the other man in the dreams besides Thomas Hyndfield. His name was Frederick Ayers, a top-class geneticist, biologist and overall scientist who seemed gifted beyond compare. A paper of his was what caught Hyndfield's eye.

A paper that discussed the possibility of using animal DNA to improve humanity's quality of life. Thomas Hyndfield didn't even read passed that line, so lost in his own delusions he was, and he instantly reached out to the recent graduate, Frederick.

Naive as he was at the time, Frederick accepted the job offer that soon came.

And through trial and error, year after year, day after day, through the blood, sweat and tears of a group of brilliant researchers led by Frederick Ayers...X-CA001 was born.

A combination of human and feline DNA. A seamless combination. An appearance exactly like a human's, so he could be used in infiltration missions but his inner biology was vastly more advanced than an ordinary human's. The samples for both his human and feline DNA were taken from specific people and animals, and each thing was picked for it's purity and quality.

A hodgepodge of genetics, woven together by the brilliance of Frederick and backed by the funding brought to the table by Hyndfield.

This, this was it. The perfect soldier. The perfect killer.

The 'X' in his name was the series which he was from. 'C' stood for what he was, a Chimera of different animals and humans, put together to create something more. 'A001' was his unique designation.

He was the first, and there were to be many more. But first, they needed to know his effectiveness. So they trained him, tutored him in everything he would need to know.

They even field tested him, fitting him with a bomb collar and sending him off to complete a mission.

The mission was a complete success. X-CA001 killed everything he had to, not once was he spotted by the enemy, and he retrieved all the intel he was tasked with retrieving. He had raided a compound of over one hundred people, and he'd walked out the only survivor. He was the complete product. A soldier that could complete a mission that would've ordinarily needed squad after squad to do, alongside transport vehicles and other such expensive logistics.

He was the perfect soldier that Hyndfield had always dreamt of.

Physically superhuman, a brilliant and amoral killer, a natural-born predator, a tactical genius and an obedient soldier with the skills equivalent to a special forces operator.

Now all that mattered was replicating these results. Maybe even improving on them.

But there was a problem - Hyndfield wouldn't let Frederick use this breakthrough in science for what the doctor really wanted to use it for. To cure diseases. To help regrow limbs and treat fatally injured people. All the colonel wanted to use it for was military applications, and while healing and medicine are a part of the military, Hyndfield was so obsessed with his idea of super soldiers that he thought medics were a waste of time. After all, the perfect soldier would no longer need to be treated for injuries; they wouldn't get injured in the first place.

And that's where the dreams were leading. The colonel and the doctor arguing relentlessly over what to do with the technology and science they'd developed. One was obsessed with war, and the other was obsessed with helping cure disease and bodily problems.

But neither could work without the other. Frederick was bound by contract and needed the governments funding to make his dreams true, while Hyndfield needed Frederick to make his perfect soldiers. No one else could understand it. So, they were put into a stalemate. Meanwhile, X-CA001 was actually contemplating his life in most of the dream sequences I had.

He thought about how he wished he could be more than what he was. He wanted to be acknowledge as more than just a weapon; a soldier.

He felt like a human. He had emotions like everyone else in the facility he lived and slept in.

He'd just gotten incredibly good at hiding them. After all, all that came for him when he showed emotions were tortuous punishments from Hyndfield because ''Soldiers don't need emotions''. So he hid them and acted indifferent.

...It was sad, watching those moments and knowing what X-CA001 was thinking. He was alone.

Yet no one cared. Frederick continued arguing with the colonel about how his technology should be used. The colonel continued to have other scientists crack Frederick's science and technology. X-CA001 continued to question his existence and his treatment from other people. He continued to be alone.

What I didn't notice at first but was quickly noticing now, was that the dreams were getting clearer and clearer, filling with an astounding amount of clarity.

I felt what X-CA001 was feeling. At times, the dreams weren't dreams--they were memories. I felt every sensation. Every training exercise. Every punishment. I had more and more control over X-CA001's decisions, like this was a lucid dream, which led to more and more punishments when I began acting erratically, thinking this was all quickly becoming a nightmare. But I soon realized that was only just beginning.

I became X-CA001. I was in control. The world around me was filled with clarity and a vividness that a dream, no matter how lucid, could never mimic. Because of this body's enhanced senses, I'd even argue that I saw in more clarity compared to when I was 'awake'.

I had all of X-CA001's memories. I had all of his skills. All of his power. But also the rest of his nightmarish existence.

Constant training drills. Constant lessons on new languages, or a new combat skill, or a new weapons. Espionage skills, disguise skills--every day, every hour, every minute--it was all the time. It never stopped. The only reason I didn't go insane from this sudden barbaric and very Spartan treatment was because I had X-CA001's memories and the conditioning that had come along with it.

I adapted.

I could've gone back into X-CA001's routine. Training, learning, killing--but I refused. Because there was one difference between me and this body's original owner:

I knew what I was missing out on. I knew there was a whole wide world to explore and experience, people to meet and talk to and not just people to kill. It was like X-CA001's need for more was passed onto me. As soon as that part of me knew more about the outside world that wasn't a part of some mission objective...it was all I could think about.

Escaping the facility, that is.

. . .

Opening my eyes, I looked to the side of my cell and brought my finger to the wall. Flexing a muscle that ordinary humans don't have in their forearms, my nail extended in such a way that the end result was a sharpened claw.

Dragging the claw along the wall, I marked the start of a new day.

The wall in question, from left to right, top to the middle right next to where I slept, was covered in these marks. It'd been approximately 129 days since I became X-CA001.

And today was the day. The day I broke free.

Slowly, I got up from my prone state and looked around the barebones room. It was, in all meaning of the word, a prison cell. There was a bed, a toilet and a shower. All of it was the barest minimum, the bed was awfully uncomfortable, the shower only had one temperature - boiling hot - and the toilet was flushed at set times out of my control.

But none of that matters right now. I focused my attention on the door and like clock work, the hatch opened and a tray of food was deposited.

Said food were nutrition blocks - no flavor, terrible texture, but they were packed with super foods and enough nutrients to feed my superhuman physique. I got up, picked up the tray and sat back down on the damn near rock-hard bed before I began digging into the food.

Dry. Too dry. I wanted water but today wasn't a liquid day.

My enhanced physique was made for surviving the harshest environments, after all, which means I can go without water and food for considerably longer than a normal human. To keep me used to that, Hyndfield has made it so I can only get water every two weeks and even then it's only a small plastic cups worth. Luckily, I could survive on that amount. Didn't mean it was an enjoyable experience, however.

I'd waited until today so I could eat and have the vital energy I'd need for my break out of the facility.

Once I was done eating, I stood up and alternated between jumping jacks, running on the spot and burpees. After I was warmed up, I began stretching, using my superior muscle control and flexibility to get myself into a combat ready mode. This wouldn't arose any suspicion as I'd fit it into my morning routine for the past few months and when asked why I did it, I nonchalantly explained that it helped me prepare myself for the day's training.

Some were suspicious to an extent that I started doing this out of nowhere, but Hyndfield and his fanatical cronies all got the wrong idea and thought I was finally getting on board with their goals. Just like I'd wanted them to think.

That got me a free pass, and it was all for today. So I could be ready for today.

Done with the warm-up and stretches, I stood up and removed my underwear before stepping toward the shower. As the boiling hot water hit my body, I looked up at the shower head and wondered to myself about what I was about to do today.

Fighting. A lot of fighting. Killing. A lot of killing. Some of the people I'd be killing...were people just trying to do their jobs.

Don't get me wrong, there are guards in this facility that I would love an uninterrupted hour with so I could pay the sadistic bastards back for some of the torment I've endured in the last few months - but there are also guards who are kind, to an extent. More than that, they have wives or husbands. Families. People who rely on their income to survive--

I closed my eyes, pushing away those thoughts.

Every cell and fiber inside of me was ingrained with a simple phrase: Survival of the fittest. I was the best humanity had to offer, mixed with the best feline kind had to offer. I was trained by the best, to be the very best.

So, I had to survive. I had to grab hold of a chance to live outside of this facility; outside of this cage. Both the present me, an ordinary guy from an ordinary Earth, and the past X-CA001, the government made super soldier, wanted freedom. The ability to experience the world in all it's glory.

I couldn't afford to falter here. I couldn't afford to give up. I couldn't afford to give up my future because of my morality.

The only thing I can do for those who don't deserve it...is to give them a quick and painless death.

...Though such a thing is not much of a consolation to either the people dying or my conscience.

Opening my eyes again, I lathered myself up with soap, washed my hair, and got any spot of grime off of me before rinsing my body off one final time and then turning off the shower.

Stepping out of the small compartment, steam rolling off my body, I walked over to the door and bent over to pick up the towel that had been deposited through it once they knew I was in the shower. Going back to the center of the room, I began drying myself off before I placed the towel to the side, neatly folded. Then I got down on my knees and put my hands behind my head.

Within moments, the door was flung open and five armed guards burst into the room, rifles raised and their NODs down and activated.

Oh, did I forget to mention that the room I was kept in is near-pitch black? Well, it is.

Luckily, as per my feline DNA, I could see perfectly well in the dark. Unlike these guys in front of me, even with their night vision, who couldn't really see with any real clarity in the darkened room. It was a dangerous job and the reason why there were about twelve armed guards situated in the hallway outside, ready to jump in if anything bad happened to the guards in here with me.

The group of five in here with me, fanned out, their rifle ends all trailed on me. I could smell the anxiety in the air. It never got easier for these guys; getting in here with me, that is. Especially knowing that I could bisect them without much trouble.

"X-CA001, get dressed and follow us for your daily training," the guard in the middle of the five spoke as he reached to his side and unhooked a package before tossing it just in front of me.

Not once did he lower his gun, even as he reached for the package. His eyes were always on me.

And mine were staring right back through the darkness.

Slowly, I brought my arms down and opened the plastic package. New underwear and some military clothes to put on. A green tank top and some camo cargo pants. I soon put it all on and returned to my kneeling position.

My forearms ached, begging for me to release my claws and just escape now, but I kept my patience steady. If there's one thing this place has taught me, it's how to endure things.

The leader of this little squad, the man in the middle of the five of them, reached to a radio on his chest, "X-CA001 is ready, Eagle. Sparrow on route to nest now," he let go of the radio and with a crackle I could hear clearly, he got an 'Solid copy, Sparrow' from whoever was on the other side.

I restrained myself from narrowing my eyes at this. This...this didn't usually happen.

Without saying anything more, the leader gestured for me to stand with his rifle barrel and I complied, standing up nice and slow, still holding my hands behind my head, fingers locked with one another. Slowly, the squad fanned out in front of me moved to the left and allowed for me to make a way for the door to my cell.

They kept a constant distance between me and them. All so they could try and get a few shots off if I charged at them.

'Like they'd be able to react' was what a more predatory side to me thought but I kept that arrogance under tight lock and key. Arrogance can spell your downfall in anything but most of all when you're about to fight someone.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I entered the pale grey concrete corridors this place was full of and I turned to my right to the place I knew I'd need to go.

Today was marksmanship training. The best time for me to get access to a gun.

But in front of me were a line of people who raised their weapons, fingers on triggers, as soon as they saw me turn to them.

"X-CA001! Turn around or we will shoot!" one of them called out, her voice clear and calm, but I could smell the fear at the thought of having the face me. I could hear her heart blasting in her chest. Most of all, I could see how the pupils in her sunken eyes constricted till they were barely big enough for a needle head to fit through. All telltale signs of fear. All of them the result of prey meeting a predator.

I stared for a second longer than necessary but I still complied and turned around.

...Plan A goes up in flames, onto Plan B then.

I walked down the corridor and quickly realized where I was going. Close quarters combat training room. I could work with that.

I revised some parts of the plan in my head and quickened my pace ever so slightly. Before long, we were in the expansive room filled with training equipment - or at least, it usually was. Mats, training dummies, sandbags, sparring octagons--but all of that was no longer there. It made the room feel even bigger than it was before.

None of the squad followed me in and I quickly realized why.

The room wasn't completely empty.

In the center of the room, almost thirty meters away from me, was a massive wall of muscle, hunched over the corpse of a dead brown bear, eating it. Blood pooled around the figures feet and I saw what this was and instantly knew what to do.

I walked calmly toward the figure and the bear and it soon noticed me, turning around and standing to a rather impressive height of 2.2 meters which put it around 20 or so centimeters taller than me. Much broader as well. It looked like an impossibly tall human but even that comparison was inadequate as I saw it's face.

It's brow ridge and facial structure was completely different to mine or a normal human's. The part that connected the nose to the forehead was particularly more pronounced, giving it a very feline-look. It was easy to see all it's teeth were sharpened fangs, as well.

Unlike my own claws, it's claws didn't seem retractable but instead seemed permanently out.

I knew what this thing was; it was my predecessor. Super soldier X-3 series. I was the first of super soldier X-5 series. I was the first product deemed 'successful' but that didn't mean I was the only product. Prototypes and failures were abundant, from what I could understand from the dreams I'd had and memories I now possessed.

It charge at me but it soon stopped when the collar around it's neck buzzed to life, pumping enough electricity into it's system to cripple it but not kill it. It crumbled to the floor and a voice boomed through the speakers.

"X-CA001, kill the failed product. But wait for it to recover fully before you do so," the voice said, the tone of the voice sounding like a colonel to it's soldier - which it was.

That voice belonged to Thomas Hyndfield, the colonel.

I looked to the left and saw a window of one-way glass. And I nodded to the man who'd spoken and was no doubt behind the glass, before turning back to the X-3 series. I'd finish this training session, because it was needed for the plan, and then I'd break out of this shitshow.