Chapter 1

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Heart monitors sounded off as was their intended use, as did the respirator. Soft light filled the somehow mostly darkened room in the center. Scientists, equipped with precautionary gas masks, in lab coats crowded around a table jotting down more notes than there was paper.

Everyone stopped and looked up as the door hissed open and closed with someone entering with two armed guards equipped with shotguns and gas masks. The man that came in was a lean, muscular man with a lab coat and gas mask on, stopping to stand in front of the table. More than likely a military scientist, considering his build and how he looked over the files given to him.

"Alright, assuming you've had enough time to take notes, let's begin," he said with a gruff, but heavily accented voice. His accent was incredibly hard to place. It didn't sound like it belonged to any one dialect.

"What we have here is a 'special' case of sorts," he continued. "Notice the injuries on the subject. Some are infected but we've been able to get the infections under control. Small cuts that formed over time are not self-inflicted. It appears from what we gathered, that physical and mental impairment are inevitable, obviously with the state the subject's in."

It was harder than it should have been to try and place what language was being spoken. It wasn't Russian, Afrikaans, European, Mandarin, sure as hell wasn't English.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"As you can more than likely gather, the subject is very lucky to be alive. The small but plentiful pustules around the lungs and chest areas are evidence of that. Previous subjects have not lasted nearly as long as this one. Almost all have lasted less or more than a week, tops. A few had gotten farther, but gave out around the second week of experimentation." Very well educated, that much could be deduced. "I know what some of you are thinking, no human could survive this for this long without outside assistance."

Weird. Couldn't identify the language, but understood it fluently.

"You would be right, if the subject was ONLY human." That sentence had everyone looking up from their clipboards, puzzled expressions showed from underneath their gas masks. There were a few moments of silence before the military scientist broke it. "These X-rays will explain what I don't have to." X-rays were put up depicting very interesting, albeit disturbing injuries of the subject. The man pointed to each vital organ on the X-rays. "Liver. Stomach. Pancreas. Intestines. Lungs. All burnt to a crisp."

Who the hell were these people?

'How is that even possible?" one of the scientists asked in the mysterious language. The military scientist responded, "Well, the specific steps WERE above your pay grade, but all of you have been chosen specifically because of your skill set. You work for us now."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Can we ask what her background is, sir?" another one of the scientists asked. "I'm really glad you asked that," the military scientist responded, thumbing through a few pages.

What are these people doing here?

"The subject WAS one of the most impressively efficient soldiers the battlefield could offer. Top score in every field test. Impeccable mission success rate. Last known mission was to assassinate a target whose identity is classified."

Where the hell even was here?

"Mission: failure. Received third and fourth degree burns before falling out of a three or four-story window. Underwent certain therapy that was greenlit by a man that shall remain nameless, deceased now, but the therapy that revived the subject is what's interesting about her. Apparently, this "therapy" healed her on the outside, and kept her alive. The subject managed to find herself under the command of a man named 'Big Boss.' Made quite a name for themselves in Afghanistan."

"I'm sorry, you mean THE 'Big Boss?' one of the scientists asked. "Yeah, THE 'Big Boss,'" replied the military scientist. As soon as the legendary soldier's name was mentioned with the subject, there was an atmosphere of doubt and paranoia around the scientists. They wouldn't admit it, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that this was very dangerous ground they were stepping on. "What kind of therapy she underwent is what we've brought you all here to look into," the military scientist stated.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The heart monitors started spiking and beeping uncontrollably. Her heart rate increased drastically, her pulse rate was almost dangerously high, and her body temperature was at 105 Fahrenheit. Small lesions and cuts began to open up and bleed, spilling fresh blood onto the floor and table followed by a violent seizure causing her to cough up blood as she twisted in agony and the tiny gray/purple pustules on her chest began to leak a mixture of glisteningly clear liquid and blood. Blood began leaking out of her ears, eyes, nose and mouth as her eyes began to roll into the back of her head as the military scientist and the two other personnel tried to hold her down.

The scientists began to back away as the disturbing scene unfolded in front of them. The amount of blood on the floor and table, the violent, unpredictable convulsions, and the sight of the poor woman being helpless to stop it all was enough for anyone to experience for one day, if not a lifetime.

"I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this, this isn't what I came her for!" one of the doctors screamed, beginning to hyperventilate. The military scientist managed to get his sights on the doctor panicking while he was still restraining the subject. "Keep her under control before she does something stupid!" he said, taking the respirator out of the subject's mouth.

The other scientists moved closer in an attempt to reason with the female doctor. She caught them in her peripheral vision and swung wildly. "NO! NO! I have to get out! I have to get out now!" Without warning, she ran for the only door in the room. One of the guards reached out to grab her, but remembered he had to restrain the convulsing, bleeding woman on the table.

The female doctor ran for the door and slammed herself against the door in a fruitless attempt to open it. "Let me out! Let me out!" She turned back, realizing it was fruitless, just in time to see a huge amount of blood erupt from the subject's mouth. That was the final straw. The female scientist went wide-eyed and threw up inside her mask.

Panicking because of the sloshy, chunky liquid in the mask was restricting her breathing, she made her last mistake and pulled off the gas mask in an attempt to get oxygen. The rest of the other scientists backed away from her.

The military scientist noticed, "Ah, fuck! Get a sedative on the subject!"

Moments later, one of the guards pulled out a small syringe and pricked it into the subject's neck. She still continued to struggle valiantly, but the convulsions and bleeding soon subsided. The military scientist just stared at the floor of the room, which was practically coated with blood and vomit.

He then set his eyes on the female scientist gulping in air. Pulling out his sleek 9mm Beretta sidearm, he walked over to her slowly.

"What is your primary language?

The female scientist, confused, replied, "What?"

He raised the gun to her head. "What is your native language?" he said in a calm tone.

She hesitated, "English."

"Speak it. Now."

She replied in English. "I'm sorry, I-."

She was cut off by a bullet piercing her skull. "Yes…yes, you are," said the military scientist.

The other doctors could do nothing but look on in horror. The military scientist wiped blood off his gas mask, took the clip out of his gun and held it in his hand. "Anyone else care to have an emotional breakdown?" the military scientist said in the weird language, holding the clip up for the group to see. When no one replied, he put the clip back in the gun and holstered it. "Any of you breathe a word of what you've seen here, you better hope you see the inside of a prison cell," the military scientist threatened. "Get her body out of here," he commanded to the two guards.

The response from the doctors consisted of a lot of terrified glances at the bodily fluids on the floor and their dead colleague. "When conducting your research concerning the subject, you will have to have a label for her. There were a lot of names for her in Afghanistan, but just simply call her Tixij."