The door of the metallic
cubicle creaked open, releasing copious amounts of cold gas with it. A man,
naked almost completely with the exception of his underwear, stood in the
cubicle with the help of red steel bounds covering his shoulders and his feet.
Two men dressed in the same standard green army attire unleashed the steel bounds. The man fell to the cold, rock hard floor with a heavy thud.
The lights on the ceiling appeared to be dancing as the man drifted back into consciousness; his eyes squinted against the gleam of the brightly glowing white lights.
"You're finally awake," a voice came from the other side of the room. An army general clothed in dark green khakis moved beside the bed on which the man lay.
"Allow me to introduce myself: I am General Carlton, veteran of the Iraq war and castellan of this base," the general introduced himself. The man looked at him with his dreamy blue eyes.
"Do you know who you are?" General Carlton asked inquisitively.
"No," replied the man sadly, in his deep husky voice. The general nodded. "Where am I; why was I in that cubicle?" The man asked suddenly.
"This might be hard to take in," the General with a receding hairline and a blonde stubble, rubbed his hands against his curvy round belly, while letting out a heavy sigh.
"The world was plunged into a global catastrophe and most of the people died, with the Earth becoming unsuitable for humanity." The General paused for a second before continuing. "In a desperate last attempt to ensure the survival of the human race, we, with an army compromising of two hundred soldiers, fifty of the best scientists and a few dozens of civilians attempted to fly to Mars. However, we crash-landed on this planet --Xenon -- instead. Now, we have found conditions adaptable and we hope to make this our home."
"Hope?" The man asked.
"You are witty and quick on your feet," admitted the general, with a hint of delight.
"We have found signs of extraterrestrial activity on the surface of this planet. We do not have enough labour to cope with their large numbers. As a result, we cannot leave the safe boundaries of this base. Nonetheless, this is no time for folk tales and stories. As aforementioned, we lack the numbers to battle with these extraterrestrial beings and so we have decided it would be best to slot you in our armed forces. This is not a request, but an order, and you will obey." The general departed from the room with his last words. Two armed officers stood near the door, one of them tossed an army uniform on the bed. There was a name-tag on the uniform, which said, 'Pvt.J.Atkins'. The man smiled.
Atkins walked into the training facility, which was located at the other end of the base. The walk was long and tiring. Atkins stumbled to his knees--grasping for breath-- as he observed the monumental facility with its white tiling. A crowd of soldiers watched a kick-boxing spar with excitement. In another corner, small groups of soldiers were busy working out--lifting weights in access of a hundred kilograms. Atkins watched, in marvel.
"Welcome to the training facility, Pvt.Atkins," rang a familiar voice through the facility. The general walked into the facility through the electronic metal door, two armed escorts beside him. Atkins raised his hand to his forehead to salute the General, who hastily reciprocated.
"I believe today will be the first day of your training. You seem to be in good shape, Pvt.Atkins. You're body is well built and your muscles are adequately toned." The General spoke after briefly assessing Atkins body. Atkins gently grazed his thick muscular neck in a state.of appreciation and satisfaction.
"My brother, General Cole will be overseeing your training regime, Private Atkins," the General informed before quickly hurrying off with his armed escorts.
A tall and well-built man of similar stature to his brother emerged from the cheering crowd of soldiers who were immersed in the kickboxing spar. He walked with his wide, firm chest leaning out. He appeared to command respect with every step he took. The man uttered not a single word and let his nametag be proof enough that he was indeed General Cole. The man dropped some equipment at Atkins feet and nodded. The man then scuttled ahead, with Atkins close in tow.
"We will practice the art of self defense, private." General Cole informed.
In the middle of the facility lay a large rectangle mat, plushy as a soft pillow and the colour similar to the fur of a panda.
The general took his place on one side of the mat and beckoned Atkins to do the same. He then proceeded to explain the rules.
"If one of the participants is knocked off the mat, they lose. If they are pinned on the ground for more than seven seconds, they lose. If one of the participants is engaged in a submission lock and the participant either faints or gives up, the participant loses. Low blows will grant the victim the victory. Are we clear?" Cole explained in his calm, authoritative voice. Atkins nodded nervously. One.of the soldiers acting as a referee motioned the participants to begin. Cole launched forward, incorporating the style of boxing and Wing Chun in his attacks. He moved as fluidly as water, his movements precise and his attacks effective. Atkins struggled to evade the swarm of blows that Cole had launched upon him. He ducked as one of Cole's overhead kicks missed by an inch. Atkins movements himself were clumsy. He had failed to land a single blow and was struggling to defend himself alone. Cole leapt at Atkins, throwing heavy punches and low kicks at him. Atkins found himself cringe back to avoid being hit.
Cole leapt into the air, his right dominant leg aimed right at Atkins chest--who was clad in light protective armour.
Atkins sidestepped him, however, before he could move, Cole -- with his superior speed and quicker reflexes-- threw an underhand jab at him. His punch connected with Atkins right jaw, and Atkins found himself fall back, suffering immense pain. Atkins felt a rush of anger channel through him as blood slowly gushed out of his mouth. Atkins leapt at Cole like a fearsome tiger with his newfound strength. Atkins aimed his kicks at Cole's rib cage; Cole, however, responded by swiftly blocking them. The fight began to become more balance as Cole started to tire out and Atkins attacked, fueled by pure rage. Atkins went for Cole's head with a long blow. Cole fell to his knees. Atkins struck out a leg and caught Cole on his calf. Cole almost toppled over as he lost his balance. Atkins went in for the final blow; he caught Cole with a powerful and swift strike to the chest, sending Cole flying off his feet. Cole landed more than 20 feet away from the mat, clenching his chest as he cried out in pain. Atkins stood there shell shocked just like his fellow soldiers over his superhuman strength.
A team of medics rushed to help Cole as he coughed up copious amounts of blood. Atkins rushed out of the facility.
The general’s door burst open and Atkins ran through, tears bursting through his eyes. The General looked up from his paperwork, startled.
"Who am I, and why do I have superhuman strengths?" Atkins shouted aloud as he banged his hands against the general’s desk. The wooden desk broke into half and fell to the ground with a loud noise. The general appeared to measure Atkins for a moment before he finally spoke.
"You were Project X. You were a test subject for the US Army." Atkins's face twisted in horror.
Two men dressed in the same standard green army attire unleashed the steel bounds. The man fell to the cold, rock hard floor with a heavy thud.
The lights on the ceiling appeared to be dancing as the man drifted back into consciousness; his eyes squinted against the gleam of the brightly glowing white lights.
"You're finally awake," a voice came from the other side of the room. An army general clothed in dark green khakis moved beside the bed on which the man lay.
"Allow me to introduce myself: I am General Carlton, veteran of the Iraq war and castellan of this base," the general introduced himself. The man looked at him with his dreamy blue eyes.
"Do you know who you are?" General Carlton asked inquisitively.
"No," replied the man sadly, in his deep husky voice. The general nodded. "Where am I; why was I in that cubicle?" The man asked suddenly.
"This might be hard to take in," the General with a receding hairline and a blonde stubble, rubbed his hands against his curvy round belly, while letting out a heavy sigh.
"The world was plunged into a global catastrophe and most of the people died, with the Earth becoming unsuitable for humanity." The General paused for a second before continuing. "In a desperate last attempt to ensure the survival of the human race, we, with an army compromising of two hundred soldiers, fifty of the best scientists and a few dozens of civilians attempted to fly to Mars. However, we crash-landed on this planet --Xenon -- instead. Now, we have found conditions adaptable and we hope to make this our home."
"Hope?" The man asked.
"You are witty and quick on your feet," admitted the general, with a hint of delight.
"We have found signs of extraterrestrial activity on the surface of this planet. We do not have enough labour to cope with their large numbers. As a result, we cannot leave the safe boundaries of this base. Nonetheless, this is no time for folk tales and stories. As aforementioned, we lack the numbers to battle with these extraterrestrial beings and so we have decided it would be best to slot you in our armed forces. This is not a request, but an order, and you will obey." The general departed from the room with his last words. Two armed officers stood near the door, one of them tossed an army uniform on the bed. There was a name-tag on the uniform, which said, 'Pvt.J.Atkins'. The man smiled.
Atkins walked into the training facility, which was located at the other end of the base. The walk was long and tiring. Atkins stumbled to his knees--grasping for breath-- as he observed the monumental facility with its white tiling. A crowd of soldiers watched a kick-boxing spar with excitement. In another corner, small groups of soldiers were busy working out--lifting weights in access of a hundred kilograms. Atkins watched, in marvel.
"Welcome to the training facility, Pvt.Atkins," rang a familiar voice through the facility. The general walked into the facility through the electronic metal door, two armed escorts beside him. Atkins raised his hand to his forehead to salute the General, who hastily reciprocated.
"I believe today will be the first day of your training. You seem to be in good shape, Pvt.Atkins. You're body is well built and your muscles are adequately toned." The General spoke after briefly assessing Atkins body. Atkins gently grazed his thick muscular neck in a state.of appreciation and satisfaction.
"My brother, General Cole will be overseeing your training regime, Private Atkins," the General informed before quickly hurrying off with his armed escorts.
A tall and well-built man of similar stature to his brother emerged from the cheering crowd of soldiers who were immersed in the kickboxing spar. He walked with his wide, firm chest leaning out. He appeared to command respect with every step he took. The man uttered not a single word and let his nametag be proof enough that he was indeed General Cole. The man dropped some equipment at Atkins feet and nodded. The man then scuttled ahead, with Atkins close in tow.
"We will practice the art of self defense, private." General Cole informed.
In the middle of the facility lay a large rectangle mat, plushy as a soft pillow and the colour similar to the fur of a panda.
The general took his place on one side of the mat and beckoned Atkins to do the same. He then proceeded to explain the rules.
"If one of the participants is knocked off the mat, they lose. If they are pinned on the ground for more than seven seconds, they lose. If one of the participants is engaged in a submission lock and the participant either faints or gives up, the participant loses. Low blows will grant the victim the victory. Are we clear?" Cole explained in his calm, authoritative voice. Atkins nodded nervously. One.of the soldiers acting as a referee motioned the participants to begin. Cole launched forward, incorporating the style of boxing and Wing Chun in his attacks. He moved as fluidly as water, his movements precise and his attacks effective. Atkins struggled to evade the swarm of blows that Cole had launched upon him. He ducked as one of Cole's overhead kicks missed by an inch. Atkins movements himself were clumsy. He had failed to land a single blow and was struggling to defend himself alone. Cole leapt at Atkins, throwing heavy punches and low kicks at him. Atkins found himself cringe back to avoid being hit.
Cole leapt into the air, his right dominant leg aimed right at Atkins chest--who was clad in light protective armour.
Atkins sidestepped him, however, before he could move, Cole -- with his superior speed and quicker reflexes-- threw an underhand jab at him. His punch connected with Atkins right jaw, and Atkins found himself fall back, suffering immense pain. Atkins felt a rush of anger channel through him as blood slowly gushed out of his mouth. Atkins leapt at Cole like a fearsome tiger with his newfound strength. Atkins aimed his kicks at Cole's rib cage; Cole, however, responded by swiftly blocking them. The fight began to become more balance as Cole started to tire out and Atkins attacked, fueled by pure rage. Atkins went for Cole's head with a long blow. Cole fell to his knees. Atkins struck out a leg and caught Cole on his calf. Cole almost toppled over as he lost his balance. Atkins went in for the final blow; he caught Cole with a powerful and swift strike to the chest, sending Cole flying off his feet. Cole landed more than 20 feet away from the mat, clenching his chest as he cried out in pain. Atkins stood there shell shocked just like his fellow soldiers over his superhuman strength.
A team of medics rushed to help Cole as he coughed up copious amounts of blood. Atkins rushed out of the facility.
The general’s door burst open and Atkins ran through, tears bursting through his eyes. The General looked up from his paperwork, startled.
"Who am I, and why do I have superhuman strengths?" Atkins shouted aloud as he banged his hands against the general’s desk. The wooden desk broke into half and fell to the ground with a loud noise. The general appeared to measure Atkins for a moment before he finally spoke.
"You were Project X. You were a test subject for the US Army." Atkins's face twisted in horror.
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