The Beginning: Central Training Center

War was coming. Not just any war. The war of Earth's destruction. And they needed warriors. The CTC, a topic secret government organization, was then called into effect. Having no limitations or laws with which to follow, they collected DNA from the brightest minds and the greatest athletes, tweaking the DNA of the fetus for the sole purpose of creating ruthless and trained killers. At the age of five, they would be moved to the CTC facility that was housed on the west side of the compound to begin their combat training. In addition to combat in hand-to-hand, they were each taught the expertise of any and all weapons, as well as academic expertise.

Until the age of five, the children were left in the care of various employees who were specifically chosen to care for each child. Beyond a quarterly checking of nutrition, and any unforeseen sickness that might arise, they were largely left to the devices of their caretakers.

The babies, while human despite the gene manipulation, were grown in test tubes and then incubated until such time they go to their first caretakers.

The Advisors would watch each child closely, monitor all marks in combat training, expertise and leadership. Twice a year The Advisors grouped the children into a team of four, drawn from a lottery. Second to their loyalty to CTC, they were trained to operate as an impenetrable group. Once assigned they quartered together, ate together, trained together. Each team was one unit and never was one seen without the other three.

The boy looked at the names on each bunk of his new barracks. He was alone. A tall, muscular boy of ten put each name to memory. There was not much to look at on the bare walls and with no window to gaze from, the boy climbed onto the bunk that had his name stenciled to the side in silver paint. The boy's head suddenly snapped to the right hearing the door begin to engage. With fluent grace he landed on his feet next to his bunk and the empty one beneath it, snapping to attention just as the door opened.

A stone-faced guard escorted a girl of nine into the barracks. She was dressed in fatigues as was he, her hair cut two inches off her scalp as was regulation. The guard shut the door without a word and charted the lock into place, the clang echoing loudly in the silence. Once the guard was gone neither child spoke to the other, having orders not to involve themselves with chatter. The girl climbed onto her bottom bunk and the boy climbed back onto his. This was repeated twice more. When the fourth was brought in he was noticeably younger than the other three.

"For the next twenty-four hours, you will remain here. You will dine here. Shower here. Use the toilet here. Your order of silence is now changed," the guard went on. "Get to know each other. You are all the family you have. You are a team. If one of you fails, you all fail. Colonel," the guard barked at the eldest boy.

He took one step forward. "Sir."

"You are the team leader. It is your duty to protect your team. You are responsible for their lives, their failures, and successes. It is your job to lead them and it is your job to bring them out alive. It is also up to you to decide on a second in command. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" He took one step backward.

Without another word, the guard exited the room and appointed the lock.

The appointed leader spoke to his team for the first time, looking at each in turn. "In here, I want you to speak freely. In here we are equals. I will not give orders unless absolutely necessary to maintain order."

The girl smiled a slightly crooked smile. "I'm Maddox. Sam Maddox." She looked at each teammate with an acknowledgment of her introduction.

"Horrox Zimmer," was the next voice to speak up.

"Linx Cameron." Linx looked to the young boy standing to his right who had yet to speak, nor look up from his shoes. Kneeling so he was at the boy's height he said, "Hey, there."

The boy upturned his lips the slightest bit, his eyes finally coming upward to meet Maddox's gaze. "What's your name, kid?"

"Kiy," came the reply. "I wasn't given a last name."

Linx frowned slightly. The boy didn't seem like a troublemaker to him. A child without a last name was an unspoken dishonor typically given to those who suffered disciplinary problems in their first home, such as not following orders properly or at all. These children, once taken to the west side of the compound were typically given harsher punishments by their team leaders until shaped into a well-disciplined soldier. There were other reasons, of course, such as the caregiver more or less left the child to themselves without much care or guidance, essentially neglected in all things but basic survival. "Alright. Kiy. You'll be bunking with me, okay."

"Yes, sir," the boy answered.

"Speak freely, Kiy. It won't be the same here." Linx stood up. "Training starts in forty-eight hours. We have until then to better acquaint ourselves. The three of you can do as you please. Talk if you like. I, however, just came back from an all-nighter and need to recharge." With a thought, he knelt to the boy again. "Kiy?" The boy met his gaze. "Do you need to recharge also?"

"Yes, sir." The boy stood straight when addressed. His eyes forward.

"Take your bunk then."

It was several days later after lights out that Linx woke to small sounds coming from underneath him. He sat up, signaling Maddox to stay put as she was about to swing her legs off her bunk. Without a sound, he landed next to the bottom bunk in a crouched position.

The small boy was huddled against the wall of his bunk, quake-like sobs bubbling forth, his chest rising up and down to support the extra oxygen he required. "Hey, kid. It's alright." Linx touched the boy's shoulder, which only seemed to upset him more. He whimpered, his body stiffening as he tried to back away as if he could meld himself into the wall. "Easy, now. Easy, okay?" Linx held up his hands, palms out, before climbing next to the boy. "Whatever happened to you on the other side, it won't happen here. You don't have to be scared anymore."

Kiy wiped his eyes and took a shaky breath. He looked over at Maddox and Zimmer who appeared to be asleep. "You're not going to hurt me?"

Linx shook his head. "No. I'm here to protect you."

Kiy looked at him, his face red with tears. "Really?"

Linx smiled. "Really. The four of us...we're family now. Did...did your providers not prepare you for coming here?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Sir." His eyes met Linx nervously before looking away.

"Linx is fine." He smiled as the boy uncurled from his tiny ball and scooted a little closer to him. "You won't be hurt anymore. I won't let anyone ever do that to you again."

The boy looked away. "How do you know what was done to me?"

"I know. I can see it." Linx touched the boy's forehead gently before wiping away freshly fallen tears. "You're safe now."

"How? I mean...how do you see it?" The boy was genuinely curious.

"Well, each of us has a special talent. I see things in people. Their fears. Their past. I see it as they see it and experience it by proxy."

The boy nodded. "Do they know, too?" He looked over at the other bunk and back to Linx.

"No. Their talents lie elsewhere," Linx replied.

Kiy's eyes water and spilled and he sniffled. "Please don't tell them."

Linx slowly reached over and wiped his tears. "I won't tell them. And if you ever need to come to me, you can. If you're scared and sad or anything...I'm here for you, okay?"

Kiy nodded and rested his head against Linx's shoulder, his eyes falling closed. Linx sat there through the night as the boy fell into a sound sleep, ready to chase away any nightmares he saw forming.