Somewhere, deep in the ONI advanced robotics and space engineering facility in Sol New York, papers stirred; files were opened and a search was begun. Names were flung about like spit wads in a Jr. High band room as the lower workers scrambled to find someone suitable for the company's "Spartan II" project.

You might be asking, why "Spartan II?" and the answer is as simple as 'the first Spartan died'; He was struck down by the very man that now runs ONI. That man is being considered the core reason that Sol city is as big as it is now; sky scrapers, prestigious schools, and the headquarters to the most innovative robotics company known to man.

The Spartan II project is his attempt to create a "super-soldier" using technology developed by his ONI Company, their test subject being someone expendable and controllable, but as of now they didn't have any candidates. Everyone's head was in a blur as they rushed from desk to desk, cabinet to cabinet trying to find the perfect person to acquire.

Then they found him; top graduate from the Janus Military School at age 14, orphan since the age of six and currently boarding at a school partially funded by ONI associates. His credentials are top notch, not a smudge on his record, his ASVAB and SAT scores were flawless, but he doesn't have any living family to claim him; perfect prey.

An ONI agent was tasked with bringing him in for "questioning" before he could be fully involved in the project. So on a piece of paper the agent received, was written the name of the candidate and the room number of which he was currently bunking in.

John, 117.

Running, screaming, calling out, nothing.

John sprung awake as a piercing flash shown bright through the half closed blinds covering the window, shortly afterwards the low rumbling of thunder filled his ears. He rubbed his eyes as he looked around the room, forgetting the past week for a moment.

The room was bare except for the two suitcases that lay on the floor and the computers that were set up on the desks located in the far corners. The four walls reverberated the slow rythematic sound of Linda's breathing, and the offbeat tempo of the rain tapping on the window. John licked his lips and slid out from his bunk onto the carpeted floor.

Another piercing light caused Linda's silent sleeping pattern to stir. Her shoulders jerked throwing the blanket off of her body and causing her to turn and face the wall. John reached up and pulled the blanket back on to her body. She felt cold so he grabbed his blanket and tossed it over her, adding to the warmth. She'd need it more than he ever would.

He stood there watching her for a moment. Even outside of military school some people still couldn't sleep calmly. He could tell by the way her muscles were tightening and contracting and the way her shoulder twitched that something bad was going on in her head. There was a feeling of sadness inside of John and he almost wanted to wake her up and tell her it was all just a bad dream, that she's safe here. But he was never sure when he was safe himself.

Trying to be quiet and succeeding, John exited out the door into the hallway. It was barren and dark, reminding him of the many nightmares he'd had of a strange man chasing him down a never ending hallway. He felt a chill run down his spine that was as cold as ice and that's when he noticed the glimmer in the dark at the end of the hallway.

It was a person, whether it was a man or a woman was not clear. They were standing erect with their hands tucked deep into their pockets. The figure could see John, he was sure of that, but it had yet to notice that he saw it. John, being the clever man he is, kept his pulse low like he was still asleep as he shuffled toward the figure. Its eyes followed him every step of the way.

John didn't know what he was going to do. He felt that this might be a nightmare but even in nightmares you're not supposed to let the creepy figure get you. He looked over to where the figure was standing and it was gone. John let a sigh of relief realizing he was probably just being paranoid. Then he felt two gloves, one over his mouth and the other constricting his arms, before the needle entered his skin.

***

The dreams happened again. John was running, screaming, calling out and nothing was there to save him. He kept running with this unknown figure chasing him hoping that someone would save him but no one ever did. Eventually he'd get tired and the figure would get him. That's how it always happens. Luckily John wakes up before that happens.

This time waking up might not have been the best thing. He was alone, sitting in a chair in the middle of a wide open warehouse structure. He was sure that wherever he was he was underground, because the temperature was way below 'room temperature' and there's always that weird feeling when you're underground; almost like you're closer to death.

Well he had that feeling along with the feeling of a drug slowly wearing off, allowing his brain to take control again. Without even thinking he was able to get his hands out of the handcuffs the figure had placed on him, but he decided to keep them on. He was trained to do way too many things and intelligence gathering was one of his better subjects.

After a few moments no one entered, and John realized he was alone, left underground to die slowly. Unless whoever put him there knew he would get out of the handcuffs. That was up for speculation but John was almost certain that he wasn't supposed to die here. That would be way too easy.

The handcuffs hit the ground with a resounding 'clunk' noise and he was up in a flash, his eyes darting back and forth looking for anything that could be moving. There was nothing, so he bolted toward a slightly shaded over door with rust spots splattered across it like paint. Seeing the weak chain wrapped around the handles to the pathetic excuse for a door, John lifted his leg a moment before he would have slammed into it, allowing his leg to knock the door from its hinges and into the shadowy abyss that lay behind it.

He didn't waste any time as he continued running into the growing darkness, his eyes adjusting slightly faster than most normal human's would. He could make out shapes, which meant seeing doorways and adjoining hallways, so he continued running at a quickened pace hoping that someone didn't lay a trap in front of him hugging the ground.

The hallway split off in many different twists and turns, and using his intuiting John picked the paths that seemed warmer, meaning they were closer to ground level, or maybe that they were just heated by some sort of machine. Either way it meant he was getting away from the desolate part he had awoken in or closer to a possible exit.

Two doors, both looking sleek with their chrome exteriors, gleamed in the seemingly no light of the hallway and caught John's attention. He stopped at them for a moment, listening and waiting. His hand went out and touched it and it sent a wave of cold across his body making the goose bumps standoff of his skin. Pressing it open, a piercing light shone through onto his face.

With his eyes clenched he walked into the slightly ajar door and into a room fitted with highly advanced-looking technology. There were wires crisscrossing and computers buzzing and beeping all making calculations of different variety. John's eyes adjusted quickly and he was able to take in the full effect of the room. The walls were steel, like that of the door, and it retained a circular shape as it raised high in to the air like a cylinder. He imagined himself at the top of it, breathing in the fresh air; hopefully the sun had risen so he would feel the heat on his chilled skin.

His eyes caught something as he gazed around in wonder. In the center of this cylinder there was a container, a large box shaped container with tons of wires running into it and monitors screwed on to the sides, showing logistics and several other bits of information. John stepped closer to it, looking for a way to get it open; curiosity always got the best of him.

Reluctantly one of the computer monitors mounted on the outside of the container had a keyboard attached to it, and the screen itself read "ENTER PASSWORD". John reached his hand out and placed his fingers on the proper spots of the keyboard, his mind racing for a password to try out on this container, hoping that it would open on his first try.

"117." He said it aloud as he typed it. A large hissing sound filled his ear as steam shot from the sides of the container. His eyes went wide as he realized he had actually gotten it right on his first try, and with his room number. He'd ponder that later, right now he just wanted to see what the container in question was holding in its confines, its air-tight confines.

Green, shiny green; the first thing he saw when the steam mixed with the air was the gleaming green of it all. It was magnificent, all of it. The shape, the molding, the architecture of it all made his knees quiver under his weight. It seemed like a pinnacle of something, that something he was not sure of though. It was green though, and oh was it a captivating green.

It looked vivacious and ferocious as it stood unmoving in the now open container. John starred at it, his jaw brushing the floor, hoping that it would move on its own. The bends and curves of it made it appear to have been forged by Thor's mighty hammer, and the green seemed to be painter by none other than Vincent Vaughn Gogh himself.

"Suiting protocol enacted." A computerized voice filled John's head, almost making his ears ring. His body tensed up as mechanical arms tore the suit to pieces and brought it slowly towards him. All while the arms were picking it apart, a black latex-looking liquid was being poured onto John. It began to solidify as it reached his torso, covering everything chin down in a skin tight, weightless material. He could feel the air through it as if he was naked, but he also felt the comfort of it almost as if someone was hugging against him.

The mechanical arms took the suit, which was in pieces by now, and began placing it upon John's body in the appropriate locations. First the shin guards, front then back, then forearm gauntlets which expanded out before locking back in tightly against his now covered skin. Next came the thigh shielding, followed by bicep and upper arm.

The pelvic casing came next, fitting to John's form in a surprisingly comfortable way. As the hand armor was being placed, the ankle guards were secured and expanding into his sturdy, clunking boots. The chest and back exterior were placed at the same time as two steel fastenings setting on the ribs, secured together with a pop, click and hiss.

Last came the helmet, which was placed slowly, temporarily rendering John's eyesight completely useless. There was an all encompassing blackness that filled his vision as several more pops, clicks and hisses filled the surrounding. The visor became translucent as several beeps and drones came in through the helmet's speakers, representing the multitude of diagnostics that were being run on the suit before it could become fully operational.

John's heart was beating vicariously and he was sure that any minute he would awaken back in his new dorm room, Linda still breathing quietly and the lighting still cracking in the sky. He took a deep breath and remembered when those special operatives had jumped him in military school. Suddenly his adrenaline induced fear convulsed and changed into adrenaline induced excitement; a trick his old drill instructor had taught him.

"Mjolnir Powered Assault Armor fully operational." The computer voice hummed in again, this time through the armor. "Have a nice day." Its voice was scarily cheery.