The Life of a Cadmus Experiment

No one will believe this, but that's okay. It's better if you don't. Maybe… maybe that's what keeps you sane. Not believing everything you see or hear. Not paying much attention so you don't get too attached. Avoiding things that bring pain. But I'm really getting ahead of myself.

Let's start at the first thing I can remember. I don't know where or how I was born. I don't know if I have parents and a family out there or if I came from a test tube. I don't even know how I got stuck in that lab. All I know is that I was, am, their property.

Pain. That's the first thing I remember. Pain as thousands of volts of electricity entered my three year old body. The oohs and awes of the scientists as they turned it up further, testing my tolerance to electricity. This amount would have easily killed a grown man.

My throat was raw from screaming when they turn the machine off. I was taken back to my room. My cell. It was about six feet square, just long enough to fit a bed. The bed was the only thing in the room. It was stark white.

I had grown up in this little room, looking through the clear wall that led to the hallway at other such rooms. They were never full long. I often wondered how long it would be before I was terminated like the others.

Sometimes they weren't terminated. Sometimes they expired. Small black numbers would appear on the back of their necks, indicating the day they would die. The scientists tested and experimented on them until they finally took their last breath.

Every day for a couple hours, I was let out in a larger room with the others so that we could exercise. It was important to remain healthy or you would be terminated.

I was designed to be a super soldier. I wasn't a meta like the other kids. Maybe that's why I survived.

I was physically enhanced to be stronger and faster than anyone else. My senses were enhanced. My immune system was created to be stellar and my body healed faster. They made me harder to defeat, and much harder to kill. And I was taught to be obedient. I was perfect in every sense, except I didn't want to kill anyone. They didn't care much about what I wanted, though, so they ignored that little part.

The days, the weeks, the months, even the years blend together after that. It was all days filled with tests and pain. Experiments and more pain. Trying to make friends with the others and pain as they all left. Everyone always left.

They loved tossing me in the maze. I had to run and find a way out with savage dogs chasing me, or burning gas raining down on me. Sometimes they'd inject me with acid to see if it would kill me. It never did. Every now and then they'd toss an experimental drug in the mix and see what it would do. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

I was about five when they brought the kids. There were four of them, all around the age of three. Project Smoke, Project Ash, Project Fire, and Project Ice. Fire and Ice were supposed to exhibit metahuman abilities. They failed. They were terminated.

Ash and Smoke became my only friends. I helped take care of them when they were hurt. I kept the scientists from terminating them. They would never leave me like everyone else. We were a family.

I took the two under my wing. I held them when they cried after being experimented on. I tried to entertain them when I could. Sometimes we just sat in silence, enjoying each others company.

Every day brought more experiments, but we had each other to fall back on. The pain of all the steroids and mystery drugs as they enhanced my body seemed less when I could see Ash smile, or hear Smoke laugh. We were so close, we didn't even have to say a word to know what the others were thinking. It was the best time of my life.

We often wondered why we were here. No person would willingly do this to a human, right? The scientists were crazy, though, and we couldn't tell whether they would hurt another human or not. Even though we might not be human. We could have been made in a test tube and grown in a pod. I'll never know.

But all good things must come to an end. Smoke lost control of himself. He wasn't obedient. He used his powers against a scientist. They gave him a week to gain control or he would be terminated. I taught him to stay calm. But I knew that I couldn't allow them to harm him again or he would lash out. He would be terminated. He would leave me.

So I volunteered. For every test. For every experiment. I took on everything I could so Ash and Smoke wouldn't have to feel the pain. Every needle I felt slide into my veins I knew was one I protected them from. And that's why it was okay.

I never let them know what I did for them. They knew I volunteered for the experiments, but I never told them exactly what happened to me during them. I held them as they cried after a session of tests I couldn't take from them, while my own body was racked with pain from the acid they poured in my system to see the effects. I soothed their fears as I wondered if the next test would be the one that killed me. I kept them safe and hoped I always would be able too.

Every time one of them was taken, I cringed, knowing the pain those hands would bring. All of us were used to the pain accompanied with touch. That's why we shied away from it as often as we could. As soon as we were old enough to know better noise was punished, so we all turned silent to keep from experiencing yet more pain. Everything centered around pain.

But all the pain, all the training, all the experimenting in the world wouldn't have prepared me for what happened. I was around sixteen, at least, that's what I guessed. No one had ever told me when my birthday was, and it would be strange to throw your property a birthday party. But the scientists came, and they took Ash and Smoke.

I thought it was just for more tests. They enjoyed testing the two to see how their powers were progressing. Luckily, the tests weren't very painful. But I was wrong. I was oh so wrong.

They were terminated. They left me. I was alone. I am always alone.

I snapped. The next time I was taken out for testing I murdered every scientist in that building in cold blood. They begged, they pleaded for mercy, they promised anything and everything I could ever want. But they couldn't give me back my family. When I finally reached the head of the branch I tortured him mercilessly. He's stuck in Arkham now, completely insane.

I grabbed some information to sort through later and blew up the lab. Then I ran.

I was going to blow up every lab Cadmus had. They were going to pay for what they did to me. My mind was gone, all that was left was the anger. Madness overtook me.

Everything blurs together into blackness at this point. I'm not sure exactly what I did, or how long I was like that. The only things I can remember are blood and explosions. I think I took out a few Cadmus bases, but I can't be sure. But I know I killed people. I am a murderer. And I really don't care.

In my mind, there are three types of people. There are the users, there are the used, and there's me. I used to be one of the used, but I'm not anymore. I don't use people, so I can't join that group. I am a destroyer. I find where the users use people, and I do whatever it takes to stop them. I won't be used again, and I'll do my best to keep others from being used.

I'm free of the madness now, but it still lies at the edges of my mind, ready to take over again. I have to remain ever vigilant. I can't let myself slip back, or I won't return. I need to keep a grip on who I am. Maybe then I can be a better person, a person people won't leave.

But now I have to run. I have to stay out of my cell, so I run. They want me back, want their good little soldier. But I can't go back. I can't be theirs anymore. I am my own.

I keep destroying things out of need. I don't care that I kill anymore, because I kill those who deserve it. I kill those who use people like tissues, tossing them away after they're done.

New York. England. France. Germany. Russia. China. Hawaii. I keep running, and they keep chasing me. I'll never be free of them, but I have to try. Somehow they keep finding me, but I'm always one step ahead. I always escape.

Except for when I was running in a large city. I thought I was dying. That's why your life flashes before your eyes, right? I could feel the harsh grit of the concrete against my face from where I fell when they shot me. I could feel my blood leaking out as no one tends to my wound. I could hear the men around me, confirming that I, Project Shadow, had been successfully captured.

I didn't want to die. I had made friends, allies, all over the world. But I had left them, and I was still alone. Even lying on the ground while blood pooled under me I was alone. I felt someone flip me over and press something against my wound to stop the bleeding.

Maybe I wasn't dying then. But maybe they just wanted my body so that I could be dissected and they didn't want blood in their van. You could never tell with the scientists. I closed my eyes, hoping the end would be quick as they picked me up and tossed me in the back of the truck.

When I opened my eyes again, I was tied to a chair in a brightly lit room. I screamed threats as I tried to pull out of the chains, tried to escape. I was still alive, so I could still escape. I could still run.

A man appeared, he was bald, with a smug smirk on his face. I instantly hated him. He made me an offer. I could keep running, or I could join his little team. I was tired of running, oh so tired. And I really didn't want to go back to my cell, back to the pain.

I accepted his offer. I sold my soul to the devil to stay out of that small cell. To stay away from the pain. But I had to work with the people who made me this way. I was still their property. And I want to die to get away from it all. But still I live.

Now, now I have to be good. I have to follow orders. I have to kill and steal and hurt people. And that brings me even more pain. But it's good pain. It means I haven't given in to the madness. It means I still have some sense of right and wrong.

It means I am human.

Something a little different for y'all today. I'm working on updates for my other stories, but school and writer's block are terrible beasts.

Have a splendid day,

Shadow