I'd hate to say it, but I wasn't the first. I wasn't the first to be placed in this facility. I wasn't the first to be forced into combat. I wasn't the first to feel my eyes roast under the intense wavelengths. I wasn't the first to see nothing but a blurry red hue. I was, however, the most successful of his experiments. I had to be. My life depended on it. Everyone before me are nothing but corpses in the ground. It's a battle of the fittest here, and I am on top. I had to to live on. But am I really living? I have no control on if I walk or stand. I have no control of what I say, or what I do. I have no control of whose blood I spill. I don't have control of my hands or my own heartbeat. I don't decide when I eat or drink. I don't decide when I'm awake or asleep. I don't decide whether I live or die. I am just as lucky to take another breath as I am unfortunate to plunge my own sword into my throat. Because of this, in the one rare time I could move at my own will, I had to make the best moves. I had to be the best in my training. I had to be the best in my missions. I had to be the best in my assassinations. If I were to fail, I literally was as good as dead, just as my emotions and hypothetical heart is now. You learn to have no shame. You learn to not be attached to anyone. You learn that no one else matters but you, no matter how much you want to believe there is another way. There is no other way. Survival of the fittest is what keeps you alive in this facility. In this battleground. In this world. If you stumble…you are a goner. Some might be surprised that someone of my age, gender, and stature could be one of the best soldiers on the general's team. It's okay, I'm as surprised as you. Don't think I'm still alive just because this general is my father. He's the one who forced me into this world with no warning. With the push of a button I was locked away forever in this unforgiving hell. He has no mercy for me, as he does for no one else. You might be thinking how a man can do this to his own daughter. In fact, I'm still asking myself this question. Regardless, I'm here because of him. I have the wits, the skills, the blood on my hands because of him. It's my life, it's all I know about myself. I don't know if I'd have it any other way. What else is out there for me really? I'm better off in this shelter of my own insanity. The rush of adrenaline. The burning feeling of my brain frying as it begins to shut off. The stone-like state I feel when my hear my heart stop beating. My eyes unable to blink or look in any direction but forward, relaxes me. I can't go back now. The addiction is too strong. I know I'll go mad without it. Without that zap. Without that pain. Without that "fix". Without this way of being…I am nothing. Here, I am someone. What is that? A nightmare. I am your worst nightmare. And it won't be any other way.

It's as if I was picked to withstand this life from the start. Born into the Varmitech family, I was the existence of a vital lineage. My father, a scientist and inventor. My mother, a gentle and caring soul. Perhaps too caring for her own good. That's what my father used to tell me as she is now six feet below the surface of my own two feet. Only one picture remains of her within this entire experimental base, in my father's main office. From what I could tell, she was beautiful. Long curly copper-colored locks, and her smile wide and cheeky. Her hazel eyes were a spark and a twinkle, revealing her naivety. Perhaps it were these eyes that sealed her fate. She couldn't survive because she couldn't fight others for the life she had to keep for herself. It's rather as pitiful to say as it is to accept.

Needless to say, my father was always busy while I was small and vulnerable. He would work with the men he hired, building the base I would soon call "home". He would invent in his spare time, long into the night, while I was left to my own devices in a crib or on the floor. If my mother were there to care for me, perhaps I wouldn't have the internal issues I do now. It's interesting how events you can't even remember make you the person you are. I would have turned out a lot worse if it weren't for one of my father's "defective" inventions. As people were too problematic to deal with, my father would rely on his own creations to help within the "family" circle that was us. How he managed to create these cylinders of metal to speak, transform, and perform tasks I'm afraid I will never know. They had computers hidden within, giving them the highest amount of human intelligence that any computer could withhold. Really, behind those interchanging cylinders of holograms, is just a lifeless box of flashing lights and buttons. This doesn't however keep them from simulating that of human capabilities, making them manipulate your basic human instincts of bonding. One of these cylinder robots was unlike the others. It's computer hologram malfunctioned, leaving him…or rather "it" to remain in a humanoid morphed phase. As it could not switch back, it was seen as defective by my father. If I weren't on this earth, it would have been scraped along with the rest of my father's failures. However, I seemed to worth something to my father, even if it was a rather low importance. My father decided to leave the robot turned on permanently to care for me while he was not around. This robot's humanoid counterpart appeared to take the structure of "male". Thus, I call it "he" at times. His build was thin, but slightly muscular. His hair was a dark brown color, which was slicked back to calm what seemed to be human hair like bangs that would stick up. The cut in the back was clean cut, as was his face. His eyes appeared to take on the color of brown, though lighter than his hair. The clothes my father decided for him was a red T-shirt with a black vest, along with black colored jeans and shoes. He looked more like a butler than a caregiver in my opinion. However, his face was the only thing I would smile to as he would pick me up, play with me, feed me. This inhumanoid took on the true role of my father. He was given a very nurturing emotional chip it seemed. I don't know if that was on purpose or it was inserted at random. Every night he would tuck me into my crib and gently play with my fingers as I would hold onto him. Before closing the door, every night, he would say, "See you in the morning. Toodles." It seemed to be his catchphrase with me. His voice was automated to a certain frequency, so it did not sound completely human. I didn't care. That automation was the sound that comforted me on those lonely nights without my father. "Toodles." He'd say that funny word every night like it was a key component in his programming. Pretty soon, as I started to have a voice of my own, I would say it back to him. It was like a secret code phrase for us. One day, when I was in this world only about a year, I pointed to him, saying "Toodles" Back at him. It was my first word, and it would become his name. Toodles. The name I have given my caregiving humanoid.

As the men my father hired started to complete the base that I would one day call home, we moved from the mansion in the city. I don't remember much of this city, and I will never have that privilege as it was destroyed in the war, along with everyone in it. That was the one idiotic thing I feel my father did. I was about three years old at the time when that transition began. I suppose I'll never know what happened to that butterfly doll I lost in the move. I dropped it while walking, but since I was holding my father's hand, I couldn't technically go back for it. I learned quickly that my father got very impatient with me if I were to postpone his plans or be any kind of hindrance to him. My father had these intensely green eyes that could pierce through you like a knife. They were lighter and icier than mine, and his jet black hair seemed to bring this out even more dramatically against his pale white skin. The only thing that carried over from him to me was my dark hair, and even then it's not as dark as his. My new room was small and dimly lit at first. Toodles was nice enough to bring in an extra lamp in storage. During these days, he always seemed to have a sad look on his face. I'd ask him what was wrong and follow him around, but he'd never tell me. Sometimes he'd even avoid eye contact. It was as if he knew what was going to happen to me, but he knew I wouldn't understand, being so little.

Slowly, my father gained notoriety within the media and the nation. His inventions had reached a level that even the highest scientists at that time could not comprehend. Most of his gadgets consisted of weapons. Weapons that made it easier and quicker to kill. Ray guns that could disintegrate every atom within the body. Knives that could melt any substance they came into contact with. Even bombs that shook underground in toxic waves, deadly enough to kill two hundred people on the spot. It was rather miraculous. He always had a knack for creating things to his advantage, and one day he wished humanity would one day approve and commonly use his creations. That day came when I turned three and a half. A media article swept through the country about his creations, intriguing weapon creators, combat artists, and armies alike. Unfortunately, my father didn't stay true to his word of manufacturing the weapons for the protection of our world, and instead went out to destroy it. With these weapons in hand, along with his own robot army he had created over the years, it didn't take long for him to overthrow just about every force that came against him. He didn't just overthrow the government, he destroyed it. Destroyed the buildings, the people, the families of the people, everyone. No one was safe from his wrath. He always dreamt of conquering and ruling the world. By the time I turned four, that's what he had done. His struck fear in anyone that came against him. Well, almost everyone.

Remember when I said about my father destroying almost everyone in his way? There is a reason why I said almost everyone. There was one group, one organization, that was almost on par with his ability of combat and skill. One group that also knew how to make inventions not just for combat, but to better the world as well. They would not only create weapons and give them to the armies, but they also created things to further research on the world we live in, helping those around them. While their group was less than half the size of my father's, they still were outrageously successful. Even after everything went to hell, they still remained in tact. Of course, since they were small, my father didn't see them as much of a threat. Perhaps, that was the one simple mind set mistake that he had. The leaders of the group were a strong group of five, and these people were the ones that gave out the secret orders of hundreds spread across the world. Some were innocent as children like me, others were fully fledged adults. In reality, there probably were more than we ever truly fathomed. Within this group of five were two that clearly were the leaders over everyone and everything else. They were both biological brothers, and their last names were actually a very peculiar name now that I think about it. It was Kratt. Thus, within the group, these two were considered the Brothers Kratt. At least that's what I hear people used to call them.

They too had tried once or twice to take on my father themselves. While they had many small connections with hundreds of others, these two in particular liked to pick their own battles. I remember the first time I saw them in person. It was not under good circumstances. I was in my room, playing with the small doll that Toodles had gotten for my for my fifth birthday. It was a cute doll with yarn hair in a reddish tone, and her mouth was sewn into a sweet smile. I was pretending to brush her hair when I saw a red flashing light appear above my head as a loud alarm began to sound. It was so loud, I had to cover my sensitive ears as I heard so many robots filing down the hallway in hot pursuit. The lights flashed frighteningly and the ringing in my ears made my heart race. I couldn't figure out what was going on until I felt familiar arms wrap around my middle and hoist me up. Holding onto my new doll tightly, I looked around the flashing hallways in Toodles arms as he rushed me outside of the main base's living quarters. Before the tall black brick walls was a large bush that still hadn't been excavated yet. Toodles sat me there gently, looking around frantically. He told me not to move a muscle and to stay put. I nodded, even though I could feel tears wetting my face. He gave me a small smile before kissing my forehead and rushing back into the large base. Four large black walls, sturdily planted themselves to the ground, with a high rise stainless steel fence blocking out any and all intruders. The watch towers on each point of the four walls had robots on lookout. It was them that sounded the alarm as it rang throughout the base and into the echoes of the air. Hugging my knees, I rocked myself back and forth, waiting for Toodles or even my father to come pick me up. Why was there so much noise? Why hadn't the robots escorted my father out? Was he okay? Was Toodles okay?

I heard firing from the robot's ray guns built in their arms from outside. One even broke the window on my side of the wall. I ducked my head below the bush, my inner fears telling me to remain unseen. The lights from inside the base were flickering in and out between white and red as I began to see figures begin to move and create shadows. They weren't the robot silhouettes I thought them to be. They didn't float above the ground the like all the other robots did. It was clear they were walking. Surely they would not humanize themselves. There's no need as they were not scouting in public. It was then it dawned on me. Someone had broken into the base. How?! Dad told me it was impossible. Surely lots of bad things would happen now that someone was inside. They could find my father's secret office room and steal supplies or papers. They could destroy all his inventions and ruin his name. They could kill him if they so preferred. I covered my ears and hid my face in my knees, starting to cry and fear the worst.

I only lifted my head when I heard a grunt above me and the ground vibrate as boots made contact with the ground. I looked up just as quickly as the intruder of the base looked down at me. I wanted to scream, but my body and vocal chords would not cooperate. I sat there, frozen in place, as if if I didn't move he wouldn't see me. His eyes looked down at mine, as if in surprise and shock. I could only see his eyes as the rest of his face was covered by a metal helmet. His armor was black as night with tiny accents of bright green. His boots were large and heavy with waterproof leather. His body was very tall to me, his build thin but muscular. It reminded me a lot of Toodles. Even his eyes looked like his synthetic ones, but these were more intense with a serious pierce into the soul. He brought his arm to his face, speaking something muffled in his helmet. His arm held an electronic box. It was used for communication for sure. Were there more around the base? I trembled at the thought, along with the wind blowing through my hair. He must have seen this as he knelt more to my level, slowly to not alarm me. I still closed my eyes, not wanting to see him, frightened with tears in my eyes. He pressed a button on his helmet, allowing me to finally hear his voice.

"Who are you?"

His voice was surprisingly gentle, as if he had dealt with kids before. It wouldn't surprise me, considering what his organization did before everything went to hell. I trembled in my spot, not knowing what to say to him.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you. I want to help you." He reassured.

I still shook my head. I didn't know what he was doing here, but I knew it couldn't be good for my father.

"Y-you came to hurt Daddy, didn't you?" I remember asking him, looking away from him as I asked.

His face turned to one of surprise and sternness, looking back at the base that had just finished being completed. He knew something I didn't at the time. I only wish now that I would have listened to him. In the glint of the moonlight I could see something glimmer on his chest. A small ribbon with a bear paw like print encased in metal.

"Listen, kid, you don't know who your Daddy is. He's hurt a lot of people and families. He's dangerous." He told me.

I covered my ears, shaking my head. There was no way he could be correct about this. No way this was how Dad was. Or so I thought at the time. I was young and so naïve to the world around me. Perhaps even by then my father had began brainwashing me from the truth. It was hard to accept.

"Lying! You're lying! You're a bad man here! You shouldn't be in our house!" I screamed at him. One thing my father did teach me to do in this situation. If I were ever in trouble, scream so someone would hear and help me.
The man clearly was on edge, looking all around to ensure no one was coming for him. With that I screamed louder.
He clenched his jaw, before turning back to me.

"He has no right to bring a child into this. His creature experiments were bad enough…" I could hear him mumbling to himself, talking into his arm communication device again.

He said simple things like "But the kid's here." "Why not?!" "Dude, she's in a bad enough situation already." He soon then let his arm fall, looking back at me.

"I know you can't understand now, but if the time comes, you'll be safe. Understand?"

I didn't know what to think. Of course I didn't believe him. I still had my ears covered, tears starting to stream in my eyes. I wanted to run, but my legs were still too frozen to move.

It didn't take long for me to hear the engines of many robots coming towards us. The man looked behind him at the army coming towards him, their ray guns ready to blast him to smithereens. He gave one last look at me before firing a gadget in his belt, sending a rope flying up to the top of the fifteen-foot metal wall that was meant to protect this place. Before I knew it, he was at the top as the gadget reeled in the rope and he disappeared to the other side, leaving only his footprints in the mud next to me. This would not be the last time I'd see him. That was for certain. I whimpered hearing the robots begin their programming to fire.

"Hold your fire!"

I peeked over the bush, breathing a sigh of relief. Looking at me, his hands out to signal the robots' halt, was my father. His dark brown leather coat was slightly singed and he had a small bruise on his forehead. He either was attacked or he was injured trying to ensure the safety of his facility. I cried, getting up from the bush, running to him, hugging his leg. I was so frightened; I didn't care about his response.

I was surprised. With a slight snarl, he knelt down and picked me up, looking over my body for any injuries. Thankfully, I had none, only covered in a bit of mud from the ground.

It wasn't long before we went back inside to the maze of walls and metallic flooring of the base. Some doors were fine, but the ones holding my father's experimental substances was dented and caved. Clearly, that man, or maybe another, tried to get in there. For what? Why would they want to hurt us? I was too young to understand… but I would soon learn what that man meant by my father being dangerous.

I never should have trusted him. I never should have tried to give in to his change of tone towards me. I should have listened to that man. I should have listened. Of course, what could they do? There was no evidence at the time that could take me away from my father and any evidence that there was was probably highly paid to keep its mouth shut about. But I digress. I still remember what happened that night in June. I still remember waking up in that clinical yet stale dark room. I still remember the hard metallic chair and its sharp but clean smooth edges. The iron cuffs forcing my wrists in place. Some cuffs were on my ankles too. My whole body ached too. They say kids usually start to get roughed up a bit when they become more aware of the world around them. Even my body was saying it was almost too much. Wasn't my fault though. It was because of those… dastardly ill-minded Zachborgs that I got those evil looking bruises and cuts on me. I screamed I'd go back, but they didn't listen. Clearly Dad sent them to be ruthless for some reason. Of course… I guess I didn't help the situation. After all, I did get into an argument with him about why that man had broken into our base months earlier. My father said something about them wanting to shut him down and then waved me off to go away. Of course I wanted to more. I just had to know more. Thing escalated quickly, and I could tell talking about them brought up the worst in my father. What all had they done? Basically…they thought differently than us, and that made them dangerous. They believed that we didn't have the right to control the things we wanted to. It went way beyond my father's experiments at this point. His ability to make deadly weapons had clearly scared them enough to act. I always did feel bad for our test subjects. They always were either disappearing, dying, or not coming out of experimentation properly. They would bang their heads or spin in circles. It was all rather unnerving now that I think about it. Actually, some of them walked out of the base and never came back. Even those that were just fine… were suddenly gone.

Maybe Dad thought I was one of those experiments that ran off, and he did want me to come back unlike the others. Regardless, I don't think he put those that escaped back into this room. I didn't mean to cause harm. I just ran off to clear my head. Of course, I was angry he was yelling at me too. I had had enough of people just yelling at me all the time. But that desire left me here, with a throbbing black eye.

"Hello?! D-Dad! Can anyone hear me?"

I shouted into the room, but no one seemed to answer me. I wanted to buckle down and start crying, but just as my eyes were about to shed a tear, I heard the doors open to my right. Dim light cascaded into the room, mixing with the one light over my head. I saw a familiar tall figure walk in along with two cylinder shaped hovering beings.
"D-Dad! Please! Get me out of here!" I cried, shouting at him, my little body shaking as he came closer. It was only now that I realized just how cold the room actually was.

"Really? And why should I? Do you know what could have happened to you out there? You could have been snatched by thugs or ripped apart by wolves! Worse yet, that Alliance could have found you! You know how debilitating it would be for our armies if they did?! Losing my top subje- … daughter would have been devastating to the project!" He shouted in my face, inches from my nose, his teeth glistening in the little light that was in the room. At this point, tears started rolling down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble." I cried, looking in his eyes for any chance of mercy. I had a feeling though, that wasn't going to happen. He had already ordered his borgs to clearly teach me a lesson and not handle me gently like before. I must have really made him angry at this point.

I saw him press his fingers against the bridge of his nose, before looking at me again.

"Well, what you did was very dangerous, and very jeopardizing to our project. I can't let something like that go. But at the very least, I can have you repay me for your wrongdoing instead.

"Dad, I never meant any harm. I'm sorry. I don't know how I can pay back something like this…" I started crying harder, moving my wrists in the restraints seeing him look at me, almost in a demonic way.

"There is a way you can. Not to mention it will make sure you don't run away from my side again. I'll not have any person on my side rebel to the other. You know that."

"But I wasn't going to-"

"Shut up! I'm talking!" He shouted at me, pulling a small remote control box out from his coat pocket. "Or do I have to silence you now instead of later?"
"What is that!?" I asked, looking at the box. I had seen him pushing buttons on it before, but he usually did it for the Zachborgs. Somehow, I felt myself beginning to sweat, and my heart pound. Something was very wrong here.

"Dad please! I'm sorry! I won't do it again. I won't even leave my room if you don't want me to." I cried, even though I knew he couldn't stand the sound of it. He hated hearing me cry, or scream, or talk loudly, or anything that truly raised any sound.

"It's too late for sorry now, Lindsay. You know the rules of the base. I can't have you breaking those rules. So, I'll have to keep you busy."

"Busy? Doing what?" I glanced at the controller, then back to him.

Turned out my intuition about something being wrong was certainly right. Just as I said those words, the harshest slap in the face in my life came across my head. It wasn't from my father though. It was more intense than any hand could muster. It was surging and electric, sending what felt like bad burns through my veins all leading to my head. It felt like someone had set fire to my head on the inside. I wanted to scream and wait for my head to explode, but I couldn't. I didn't have control of my vocals as they sputtered and cracked against my will. My neck snapped back against the chair and my arms, legs, feet, my entire body shook uncontrollably as they started feeling numb. My eyes rolled into the back of the my head, feeling they were made of flames. My sight was going white all around me. Voices sounded as if they were muffled underwater. Everything was soon turning red like the sun. I don't completely know what happened next, as I had passed out. According to my father's records, "it" had been successful. I hadn't known what that meant until much later. That truly was the worst day of my life. Not because of the pain or the betrayal of my father. Not because of the straps or the traumatizing experience of being in that dark room. It was the worst, because it was truly my last day. My last day of breathing freedom. My last day deciding for myself to sleep, play, eat, and such. It was the last day… I truly believe I was human. Yes. I had died that day. My physical husk was still there, but my mental soul had been fizzled out. Or so I thought.