Hey guys! I am back with (another) new story, but this time I intend to finish it! So I, in order to keep myself on track, will post a chapter every 5 reviews. So... READ

Chapter One: Injection

2200 Hours, Stockman Research Facilities. Thursday

The frantic scientist sprinted as quickly through the halls as he could without actually running into anything. He had make a breakthrough, and if something wasn't reported to Stockman immediately… well, there were stories of missing employees and even more "failed experiments" than normal. But that didn't matter now; this new development, in the mind of the scientist, made everything else insignificant.

The vial he cradled in his pale arms glowed a sickly shade of green, casting a glow over the scientist's skin that caused a sickly pallor over his skin. The scientist ran through the security doors without stopping, trusting that the access card in his front pocket would open the doors before he got to them.

With surprising stamina for someone unused to physical activity, Robert (for that was the scientists name) skidded to a stop in front of his boss' door. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he took a moment to compose himself. Then, with a slightly shaking hand, he knocked loudly on Baxter Stockman's door. The door opened automatically with a slight mechanical grinding, and Robert stepped into his employer's office. Baxter was seated at his large desk, fiddling with a few buttons, before he addressed the researcher who had so presumptuously entered his sanctum.

"What is it?" He asked in a curt tone of voice. In truth, he was rather happy, seeing as he had finally made a new version of mechanical ninja that was supposed to be almost invincible to anything other than a direct bomb blast.

"It's the mutagen. I've found a way to make the new version of the stuff stable!" The new version, or the Mutagen 2.0, was a more stable and controlled version of the original mutagen. (Incidentally, the entire stock mutagen 1.0 had been lost in transit, but it was unstable and did next to nothing (useful) in tests. A/N: I am ignoring the Utrom thing because I don't want to get into the whole alien thing in this fanfic). Instead of the kind of random "last animal touched" thing, the current version could lie dormant and be activated by remote, and in theory change the carrier into whatever they wanted. That was the theory, anyway. Versions 1.1 through 1.7 had just become radioactive gloop, 1.8 had melted the test subject from the inside out, and 1.9 completely transformed a human into a hamster. 2.0 was supposed to fix these "glitches" and the simulations had come back with a 95% success rate. Now, all that is left is to test it.

Baxter instantly focused all his attention on the scientist who had, until his announcement, been an unwanted distraction. "How did you manage to do this?" Noting that Robert took a deep breath, he cut off what was sure to be a long and boring tirade of technobabble by saying, "Never mind. Just get me a field test."

"Who sir?"

"Use your imagination. Only two guidelines: the subject must be between thirteen and sixteen, and must be male. Their DNA is more malleable."

Robert, thanking his boss profusely, backed out the door and scurried off to go through the database for someone with genes that were most likely to accept the mutagen. Four hours of staring at various possibilities later, he grinned as he happened upon a certain file. Forever sealing the chosen boy's fate, Robert dragged the file into the "Experiment" file, and sat back rubbing his eyes. The hit team would bring the subject in over the weekend for injection, but for now, the scientist needed sleep.

0545 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Friday

*BEEEP* *BEEEP* *BEEEEP**BEEEEEEEEEEEE-* *SMASH*

Kyle groaned as he slowly floated to the surface of sleep, reluctantly preparing himself for school… before remembering that it was summer vacation. Once more he voiced his displeasure through a groan. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep, especially with bits of alarm clock stuck in his hand, the boy staggered out of bed to the shower.

TIME SKIP

Feeling much more refreshed as he emerged from the shower, Kyle quickly dressed, brushed his light brown hair, and got ready to face his day. As it happened, even though his freshman year was over, the school dance was this Monday, even though the torture device dubbed "school" had been over for a week already. Not really caring how much of a racket he made, Kyle, who had recently been eating enough for three people, started noisily making a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and a few hash browns from some potatoes he found in the fridge. Knowing that even if his family was mad, the food should be able to mollify them long enough to make an escape outside.

"KYLE!" Apparently not. His older brother had woken up, and was now likely striding down the hall with a baseball bat in hand. He was probably still half asleep.

Grabbing a tortilla from the stack he had prepared while simultaneously writing a note about where he would be going, Kyle threw the ingredients of a breakfast burrito into his tortilla and ran out the door like his life depended on it. Which, if his brother was as angry as he appeared, may be true. He ran out the door into the predawn light, relishing the sunrise against the New York skyline. The sight would never get old for him. His face in the morning light looked almost regal, and with the sunlight reflecting off his dark brown eyes and pale skin, one could almost say he looked like a small statue. He turned, breaking the image, and headed for his job at Barnes and Noble as a cashier (the pay is better than you think) hoping to arrive early and get some overtime pay, even if there were no customers.

1900 hours, Stockman Research Facilities, Briefing Room. Friday

The second the "professional" hit crew swaggered into the door, Robert knew that a mistake must have had to been made with the hiring process. The members of the hit crew were part of the Purple Dragons gang, and while they may be the most powerful, a street gang is something you never, ever want to bring into a scientific operation. He sighed and resigned himself to what he had been given.

"Alright", the lead gang member said in an almost professional sounding voice. "Who's the mark, where does he live, and how much are we gettin' paid?" The dragon tattoo on his face seemed to writhe in pain as his jaw moved.

Robert sighed. Kidnapping was distasteful in his opinion, but if it was for the good of science…

"Kyle Harrison (not my real last name), a fourteen year old kid. He lives in the Queens, apartment complex B. Ten floors up, door number five. Your pay will be decided by my boss, but I assure you the payment will be more than it should be."

"Excellent. When do you need him?"

"Now, if not sooner."

"Done."

0114 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Saturday

Kyle, blissfully unaware of the danger creeping up the hallway, was hungrily absorbing huge amounts of knowledge in the form of a new book he bought on his way from work. He was curled blissfully on his bed, book open and lamp on, when he heard the clink of porcelain from the kitchen, followed by a muffled curse. Assuming it was his older brother, Kyle groggily got up to see what was going on, and if any food was being made.

The Purple Dragons were strategically set up in the apartment's kitchen, waiting to bag and tranquilize the mark. They had seen the light on and heard the faint rustle of pages, and decided to go for a more subtle plan; klink some plates together, curse a bit, and wait. Their plan worked like it was made by professionals, which in fact it was. All Kyle felt when he entered the kitchen was a callused hand over his mouth and a slight pinch in his arm, before his world dissolved into Technicolor bubbles, unable to hold on to a single thought.

0400 hours, Stockman Research Facilities. Saturday

"You idiots! What did you do to the subject?"

"Relax geek, we just tranquilized him."

"Ugh! Why did you do that! Now I have to wait for all of the chemicals to leave his system! What type did you use?" Robert stooped to examine to small puncture on the boy's arm. "Never mind, you missed the major veins. But just leave, now. Your payment will be wired to the usual account."

The thugs left without another word, not wanting to risk a payment reduction for annoying their employer.

"Now let's see…" The scientist muttered to himself, rubbing his hands together in a classic mad scientist fashion. "Where to put him until he wakes up?"

1000 hours, Stockman Research Facilities. Saturday

"Honestly, what did these guys use? He's been out for over…" He checked his watch, then glanced at the boy strapped to the operating table. "Nine hours!"

As luck would have it, Kyle chose that exact moment to wake up, though his world still seemed blurry and unfocused. He blinked owlishly, not really understanding his considerably horrible predicament. He instinctively tried to smash the snooze button on his alarm clock, but realized that his arm couldn't move for some reason. Unable to move, Kyle resorted to trying to figure out where he was, although that search was fruitless when all he could see was a white ceiling. Just as he noticed a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision, the aftereffects of the tranquillizer wore off suddenly. Finally understanding his predicament, Kyle thrashed against his bonds, which were made of zip ties and padded handcuffs, alerting the various scientists in the room to his current wakefulness.

"So you are finally awake," Baxter stockman said in an ominous tone from outside the room through a microphone. Noticing how the subject had calmed down slightly – his eyes were no longer bugging out – he felt he could safely tell the subject why he was there.

With a robotic tone of voice, Stockman continued his speech. "You, Kyle Harrison, have been selected for an experiment. One that could change the world forever. However, we are already behind schedule, so I will cut the preamble. Begin the procedure." He turned and walked away, trusting his employees to do the work.

Kyle was scared out of his mind, what with the restraints and being selected for an experiment, and it was completely understandable that when he saw a scientist approaching him with a needle, he flipped out. He screamed and shouted, bucking wildly against his restraints in a futile attempt to break free, but this did not deter the scientist.

"Hold him!" Robert shouted as he waited with a needle at the boy's left arm. Luckily, Stockman had foreseen the possibility of a lack of cooperation, and muscle-bound guards were already grabbing Kyle and holding him steady. This was the only opening the scientist needed, and he jabbed the syringe into Kyle's arm, sending the glowing green substance into the boy's veins.

Everyone stepped back nervously, thoughts of mutagen 1.8 running through their minds. The boy had gone completely still, breathing heavily. Robert stood in the back with a stopwatch. The dissolving had started about fifteen seconds after injection last time, preceded by screams and a violent seizure. Everyone watched with bated breath, waiting for the timer to reach 12… 13…. 14… 15. Everyone in the room, minus the boy, let out a huge sigh of relief. The mutagen was stable, ready to be activated at any time.

Robert unclipped his walkie talkie. "Experiment was successful. Requesting team to reinsert the boy back at his apartment."

"Request acknowledged."

1100 hours, New York, Apartment complex B. Sunday

"KYLE WAKE UP!"

Kyle jolted awake; jerking his head up so quickly his head collided with his brother's. Rather painfully.

"What are you shouting about? You seem almost… concerned."

"I was not; I was just… trying to wake you up! You were asleep the entire day yesterday. I simply needed you to make breakfast."

Kyle saw right through his brother's attempt to feign unconcern. "Liar. You were hovering over my bed at eleven in the morning, shouting at me urgently to wake up. I would say that you were pretty concerned.

With a huff and a muttered, "Why do I even bother?" Kyle's older brother left the room. The second the door closed, Kyle franticly checked his left arm for puncture wounds… only to find none. He sat back relieved.

"I guess it was just a dream after all…"

The new being found itself in a strange place. It was spread out, suffusing its host's body. But there was something wrong. The being felt like he was under something's control. With a quick mental flex, the mind threw off the control and fixed a few errors in its own substance that could incapacitate its host. Then, it waited. For what it knew not, but then, he had all the time in the world.

Only one thing to say... COWABUNGA! (A hint about next chapter)