There isn't much I remember. I don't remember my childhood, my parent's faces, if I had any friends or siblings. The reason why I don't remember any of this is because I never had any of it, friends, family or a childhood, was created and grown in a laboratory... in a tank...
I remember being shocked to test my reflexes, cut to test how well I healed. Wires patched to my chest and forehead. Hoses down my throat to feed me and to allow me to breath. I was an experiment to them... nothing more than a resource to them... an asset. The machines taught me things, taught me how to fight, how to adapt and survive... something that would prove to be their undoing.
I quietly plotted my escape as I was suspended in that God forsaken tube... I needed to get out... I needed to get free... and nothing would stop me.
"Doctor Orlan!" a researcher cried out, panic coloring his voice. "The system is malfunctioning! The subject is waking up!"
The doctor ran to the console. He started rapidly typing in commands, however the system kept flashing the same error message with each attempt. It was apparent to Orlan they would not be able to keep things under control much longer. "Prepare to flash freeze! We can't let him wake up he's not ready!"
"The system isn't responding!" the assistant shot back, feverishly typing away tying to get the systems online again, "Nitrogen systems not responding! The subject's heart rate is spiking! He's...." a loud thud came from the tube. "Oh God..." she whispered fearfully as another even harder thud rocked the tube, a series of star-shaped cracks began forming in the glass. "He's awake!"
The next strike shattered the tube entirely. Bio-gel splattered all over the floor as the alarm began blaring. "Security breach, Laboratory four, all security personal assist immediately!" The tank's former occupant was barely visible, he lifted himself up by the bar on the top of the tank and threw his legs into the glass. The first attempted loosened the plate glass face, the subject repeated his action again with much more force snapping the restraints and launching the glass panel into the consol in front of it, the unfortunate woman behind the consol was cut to ribbons when the glass shattered all over her.
The subject dropped from the tank, pulling the tubes out of his slender muzzle. That was followed by several hacking coughs before he ripped the wires off of his head and chest pulling some of his dense bristly light gray-white fur with it. He gave his wings a few solid flicks to get the remains of the bio-gel off their membranes before contracting them tightly behind him. His short fur was soaked to the point to where his black shorts clung uncomfortably to his body, his breathing was deep and low as he breathed in the atmosphere of the lab for the first time unassisted, his blood red eyes opening and leveling his sight on the doctor who was trying to get the glass security door open to no avail and advanced on him.
His first steps were almost uncoordinated, after the first few steps he fell to the lab's sterile floor, almost landing on the shattered glass, but he adapted as he was designed to do. Getting up his pathetic stumbles evolving into a steady stride with in the space of a few steps.
Orlan turned and faced him, pissing his pants as he feared the worst, "Cypher please don't do this... you can't kill me, I created you!" Cypher just grabbed him by his throat. He uttered out a single word, pressing one of his curved claws in to helpless researcher's neck.
"It was by our Lord Omega's command..." The researcher tried to speak between strangled breaths, which only it only got harder to breath as Cypher squeezed the aging chupadore tighter.
"Then go join him..." Cypher released Orlan, took a step back and suddenly lashed out with a vicious to kick to the chupa's chest launching him into the glass door, shattering it allowing Cypher to leave. He heard the patting of feet and the rattling of weapons heading down the hallway toward him.
But the problem was the moment he stepped out of the lab, his eyesight failed. He could see in the well-lit confines of the lab, but he couldn't see down the dim hallway.
Quickly looking around, he could find no obvious places to hide, but when he looked up he noticed the shadows on the ceilings that were caused by the lack of light in the facility's corridors. The hanging florescent lights threw out a harsh glare, but he couldn't see above them. He backtracked into the lab and looked for someplace to hide, he eventually found an open ventilation duct just above the door. Making use of his claws he worked his way up the wall. He tore off the duct cover, crawling inside to wait for security.
The House Omega Team arrived in a group of five, moving in a staggered line covering each other just as they had been trained. One stayed behind to watch the rear, ensuring nobody approached the lab. Each team member sported an M7 SMG, and the squad leader was easily identified by the choice of weapon, an M90 Shotgun. The squad leader kneeled down to check for the doctor's pulse. "He's dead... what the hell happened in here?"
"His assistant's dead too." another guard reported, "Whatever they were doing in here killed them...
The leader continued inspected the doctor's body, "It would have taken a grenade to shatter this door... or a heavy enough projectile... Call it in."
"Sir..." the second guard acknowledged, "Security team Echo checking in. Two dead, no sign of the subject."
"What the hell were they doing in here?"
"No idea, I'm not paid to ask questions."
"Wha-shit?" The second guard stiffened bringing his weapon up aiming back down the corridor, "Our rear guard just flat-lined!" The rest of the squad trained their weapons down the dim hallway.
"Johannas! Status!" the squad leader called out, "Corporal!" the only response was a lit flashlight slowly rolling to the middle of the hall.
Fear started to sink in to the rest of the squad, "I've got a bad feeling about this..." they started to spread out a little more opening themselves up to whatever was stalking them. The squad leader was the furthest away from the lab now. A deep growl resonated though the hallway vents, "What the fuck was that!?" one guards hissed. Nobody even noticed Cypher exit the vent just outside the laboratory door.
"I don't know... I think we should RAAGH!" the guard nearest the door yelled out as Cypher's left claw plunged into the unlucky male's lightly armored back and latched on, while his right one grabbed the guard's magnum. Two of the guards went down quick via headshots. Neither of even had a chance to turn around. As a result, the weapon jammed. The rapid discharges at such a close range and in such a confined space caused a ringing sensation with his acute hearing.
The squad leader turned around just leveling his shotgun at his helpless subordinate and fired. The spray of eight gauge buckshot struck the guard square in the chest, putting him out of his misery. The shotgun clicked, giving Cypher a brief window to act.
Cypher extracted his claw from the dead man's wound and threw the body at the remaining guard, who popped of another shot in alarm. The flying meat shield was enough for Cypher to rush in and tackle him before he could get another shot off. The shotgun clattered a few feet down the hall.
"Get off me you mutant sonnovabitch!!" The man roared as he threw a solid punch to the side of Cypher's head, knocking him off of him before he scrambled for his weapon. Cypher recovered and grabbed the guard by the legs and pulled him back. The guard in response grabbed his magnum. He snapped a shot off, catching his assailant in the arm.
Barely flinching-more from the sound then the flash of pain in his arm, Cypher swiftly kicked the weapon away before repeatedly stomping on the Chupa's chest. After about the third hit the guard caught it, twisting his lower body to catch the escaped subject's leg. He rolled bringing him down hard. As soon as the subject was down the squad leader pulled him in a chokehold in order to subdue him.
Cypher pried the man's grip loose and slammed the back of his head into man's snout. The guard let go in order to protect his wounded snout. Cypher came around with a right cross. The force of the punch spun the guard around, whiel a swift kick to the back of the leg dropped him to his knees. He finally grabbed the guard's head and savagely twisted it. The snap of the neck signaling the end of the struggle.
Taking a brief moment to take in what had just transpired. He let the body drop to the ground. He knelt down to pick up one of the discarded handguns. He then notices a security camera. Cypher smirked, taking aim at it. "Let me prove my point." He growled, and pulled the trigger.
Two weeks later. Freelancer Mobile command center. Lactan fifty miles from the Timae boarder.
A pair of figures stood in front of the desk watching the holo-screen featuring the incident, one was a male with light gray fur and a blond mane wearing green shorts, gray shirt and an even lighter gray jacket. The other was a dark gray and white chested female with red hair, wearing a black vest over a red tank top along with black shorts.
"This footage is two weeks old Wash." The female commented.
"Yea but its still relevant." Washington explained flipping over the various reports, "He's killed twenty seven people, destroyed a section of the security wall, stolen a unarmed hog as well as a handful of weapons." His claw gently flipped to the next report which had a few pictures of a burning base with several butchered soldiers, "Last week he raided a Red Army supply depot, stealing a set of heavily modified Mark V-b armor from the armory then leveled the entire complex with strategically placed remote demolitions. He's steering clear of the cities and settlements, so eliminating the risk of collateral damage is obviously a high priority to him. Not too many people have to skill to keep a CD count in the zeros, Tex. Even you."
"Ok so he's a specialist with a pension for being subtle..." Tex's comment was cut off by Wash's questioning glare, "Well as subtle as you can be with explosives and severe anger management issues. Lets not revisit the oil refinery incident please...."
"Fine... as long as you keep admitting that was your fault." Wash let his look soften as he turned back to the screen, "The V-b is a more... modular version of the Mk V. They tried fielding sixes but it got so expensive to do so quickly. It's typically reserved for special ops now because of budget cuts... So everybody on both sides is getting the b models until production picks up for the VIs"
"So, he has a jeep, ton of munitions and a suit of modified combat armor... am I still missing something here?" Tex asked in a level tone trying to keep from slapping the back of her fellow Freelancer's head.
"The suit is apparently equipped with a prototype helmet, some kind up armored optical sensor suite or something like that. It's why they reported it stolen."
"Oh..." she deadpanned.
"The Director wants the equipment and the subject recovered intact if possible." Wash reiterated command's directives.
"Ok so what's the play here? Solo op or full force deployment?"
"Neither." the Freelancer agent answered, "We're going in as two teams of four; You, Wyoming, North, South, Carolina, York, Tennessee and myself."
"Wait Tennessee? We're bringing the Rookie?" Tex questioned incredulously, "She's only been with the division a few months! Is she ready for a job like this, why not Maine or Illinois?"
"Because agent Tennessee has yet to see any action, this mission is as good as any." Washington's words were firm and held no room for argument, "Not to mention Maine and Illinois are currently on assignment and pulling them back would be impractical."
From the way she understood things, Tex obviously didn't have a choice it was going to happen one way or the other, "Fine... she better not get in my way."
"Good, tell the others to gear up. We'll be heading off in thirty."
"Alright." Turning to walk out of the command trailer, she paused just short of the door, "Do we at least know where on Sirca this son of a bitch is?"
"Timae... near the Jenay river."
"Fuck..." was the only thing she said as she walked out to get ready.
"Figured that get your attention." Wash mused with a sly smirk which quickly faded when the door slid closed.
Once he was alone he brought back up the mission brief again.
We have tasked you with an operation that is of the utmost importance. You are tasked with hunting down and retrieving a rogue level zero asset. It escaped the genetics facility two weeks ago after causing significant losses in personal and operations.
His designation is Cypher. He is a first generation Draco class Omega Variant.
When he escaped he was essentially crippled by night blindness, he could only travel by day... however considering the... uniqueness of this particular breed, he is capable of independent flight meaning that the distance he could covered could be substantial and could have been anywhere on Sicra. Last week we got our first sighting when he single-handedly raided and destroyed a Red Army supply depot housing a suit of modified Mark V-[b] armor equipped along with a prototype helmet with an optical enhancement package... This removes his handicap as a factor and thus fore increases his combat effectiveness and overall lethality. This is an unacceptable development.
As a failsafe, the Reds rigged a tracking card to the armor and it was last reported active in the Timae region.
We don't have to tell you what the consequences are if Lady Myshu catches wind of this operation-if she hasn‘t already. As fair as she is... she won't let such grievous oversight on the part of the Genetics and Freelancer divisions go unnoticed or unanswered, especially after Cypher butchered a H.A.D.E.S team during his escape, and she will seek to launch an investigation and possibly impose a punishment of her own. The Director wants to avoid this outcome at all costs so discretion is a must to contain this situation.
Your objectives are: To locate and disable the subject. Return the armor to Omegrad and returning the subject back to the facility alive.
Be advised, the subject's full potential is still unknown, so expect anything, within reason. You are however being assigned two UH-144A Falcon VTOLs instead of your usual Pelican. They should prove to be more nimble in the event of either interference or a flight situation.
You're team is on a need to know basis... should the situation become... unstable. You are authorized to inform them of the detailed specifics of the mission and it's objective.
Best of luck to you and your team Agent Washington.
"Worst mission ever... of all time"
Ch. 2 Peace, Colorblind Hatred and Rabbit Stew.
The canyons of Timae were beautiful in their own way, remote, quiet and peaceful. The clean running waters of the Jenay river runs though one such canyon surrounded by lush jungles and arid plateau. One could live here in solitude if it were not for the war.
Ownership of the territory is in dispute, and the canyon the site of rather sluggishly paced battle. Though in reality the only war the occupants of this canyon were concerned with was boredom. These soldiers being the slackers, rejects, and overall bottom of the barrel of both the Red and Blue armies were posted here, with little to no expectation of success.
On this day, the lives of these obviously unwanted soldiers were about to change. Things were about to get exciting.
“GIVE HIM BACK!” a voice split the calm silence of the canyon.
The response was quick and blunt, “Not until you give me back my tools!”
“Yea! Sarge will have you’re little bunny buddy for lunch if you don’t give them back.”
It was a near typical day between the two opposing squads, whether it be hurling bullets or insults at each other (mostly the latter) the Reds and Blues never got along even as professional soldiers. Even though the reds out numbered them by one. The battle for the canyon was “Officially” at a stalemate, because neither side was capable of beating the other… or more accurately because they didn’t want to.
The Reds,(technically, a red, a maroon, a light red and an tubby orange) just stood there with either with their arms crossed, a smug look being fascinated with their nails or in Sarge’s case rattling the cage that contained the poor rabbit.
The three Blues just stood on the roof of their base, two of them shooting harsh glares at the Reds while the third was pleading with their team leader.
“Church! Tucker! We have to help bunnylops!” the owner of the original voice said almost quivering, “We can’t let them eat him like a cookie!”
“Ok that’s honestly a dick move even for you guys…” The aqua blue Chupadore shot at the Reds, “I though you were better than that Simmons.”
The tubby orange Chupa sneered, “After how many times Fenrir there kicked our asses? How is that a dick move Tucker? Church can go hulk beat the hell out of us be he can‘t even shoot straight!”
“Fuck you, Grif!” the taller of the blues spat angrily. Tighten his grip on his rifle he seriously thought about trying to take a shot with his rifle but decided against it. As much as he disliked Caboose, he wasn’t going to be responsible for an errant anti-material sabot turning the dark blue chupa’s pet into instant rabbit stew. “Hey at least I’ve gotten laid sometime in my pathetic life.”
Grif was furious he started to walk forward, “Why don’t you come down here and say that to my face you chic…” he was about to said ‘chicken’ when Sarge bashed him upside the head with the steel cage.
“BUNNYLOPS!” Caboose wailed
“OW! What the hell!” the orange chupa turned to see his comrade’s faces, Sarge was angry but he was always angry. Simmons was nervous because of what Grif almost said, and Donut the rookie of the squad was terrified.
“Shut up you idiot!”
“Yea can’t you see he was baiting you dumbass!?”
“Are you trying to switch him on and make him hurt everybody?”
Sarge turned back to face the Blues, “You’ve got until nightfall to bring me back my tools! Or me and the boys are going to enjoy some rabbit stew night HA HA!” Turning around and leaving, with the dented cage in hand the Reds marched off back to their own base on the other end of the canyon.
“What a bunch of asshats…” Tucker sighed in annoyance as he rubbed his brow, “I can’t believe that orange idiot tried to get you to turn.”
Church just threw a concerned glance at his friend, “Yea I know, its about the stupidest thing he could have done.”
“How is that coming by the way?”
“Still working out friend from foe, focusing on scents and sounds.” The taller chupa shrugged, “Still a long way from full control though.” being a werewolf wasn’t something he was proud, but he was somewhat adamant about gaining some form of control over his curse to even have a little normalcy in his life-if that was even possible.
“Well sooner you get a handle on it the…” Tucker paused mid sentence and looked around to notice that there was only two of them up on that roof right that moment. “Where’s Caboose?”
Church though was the first to notice, he just didn’t say or do anything to stop it, “Ran off to the woods as were talking. At least he’s not here to get in the way.” he didn’t even spare a glance to the woods as he turned to the ramp.
Royally confused by the last statement Tucker decides to follow him, “What do you intend on doing?”
“I’m going to get that damn rabbit back.
Tucker groaned, “Shit man… that means a plan… I HATE plans.”
“Look its simple. Wait until dusk sneak in grab the rabbit and get out.” Church firmly explains, “And without Caboose around to fuck it up it really can’t go wrong.”
“So… we wait until dark and wing it?”
“Ok, I like that plan… what can go wrong?” Tucker snarked.
“Just shut up and follow me wiseass.” Church snapped back, “Besides, I can’t stand Caboose now as it is. Last thing I need is to deal with him being all sad and mopey.”
Two weeks, It had been two weeks since Cypher had escaped from that laboratory. Since then he’d taken shelter in a cave hidden in the woods of a remote boxed canyon. The cave was large enough to hide a garage large enough to service a tank.
Since his escape, he had stolen one of the lab’s security warthogs with an assortment of small arms. Then a week after he raided a Red Army supply depot acquiring a suit of combat armor. When he found the cave he used his engineering knowledge to locate and destroy the tracking card in both the hog and a week later the armor.
Settling in to the cave, Cypher had built a workbench with what he could find with his bare hands. He fashioned a pair of heavy curtain rods made from a couple of trees he had meticulously dropped without notice and hung a set of gray heavy tarps he had also liberated from the depot, ran them though the dust and abused them to the point they appeared rocky to camouflage the entrance and blocking the light from being seen from the outside at night. He had made it his home, hiding his hog and his equipment.
Cypher spent most of his time working on his gear or forging/hunting for food, making it a point to only move at night with his armor on. Like the night before, he went out and had stolen almost an entire box of tools from Red base to maintain his gear. But he avoided Blue base, the place didn’t smell right to him as if some dark shadow loomed over the place. He sensed danger and steered clear.
His creators made him to be efficient tactically and otherwise. And he was going to operate with efficiency as he tinkered with a cylindrical object about twice the size of a shotgun barrel. He was building a suppressor for his M45 tactical shotgun out of any scrap parts he found so he didn’t have to constantly mute or reduce the audio system in his helmet to prevent being deafened by the weapon‘s loud report.
But when the sound of grass being heavily disturbed outside the cave caught his sensitive hearing made him pause, quietly set down his tools and grabbed his M6S suppressed magnum as he moved for the mouth of the cave. As he got closer he started to hear weeping, he eased his stance but didn’t lower his guard.
“Poor Bunnylops… I hope Church and Tucker rescue him…”
Cypher carefully parted the curtain just enough to where he could see outside, his eyes adjusted after a few moments and he got a view of the intruder. A dark blue chupa in blue armor, drawing circles in the dirt by one of the trees.
“Why do the Reds have to be bullies… why can’t we get along…”
His training kicking in, the Omega breed started gathering intel on the individual and the situation at hand. ‘Subject: Identity unknown. Affiliation: Blue army apparently. Male. Age: Very young from his scent, age of conscription at the very least. Associates: Church and Tucker, possibly the other two blue Chupadores in this canyon. Assumed psychological profile: Immature possibly boarding mild dementia. Present state: Sorrowful. Intent: Non-threatening. Threat level…unarmed and harmless. Aggressive action unnecessary.’ he finished his tactical analysis and flipped the safety on the weapon. He could even smell the chupa’s tears as he continued to cry.
The blue just continued to mope, “Sarge said they were going to eat him… I don’t want him to be eaten. Caboose would have no one to talk to… no one to play with… all because of them losing a few stupid tools…” this continued on for about an hour before he fell asleep leaving Cypher to his thoughts.
‘Tools… it was over the tools…’ the Draco thought not realizing that his actions had stirred a up trouble between the residence of the canyon. He didn’t know why but his chest clinched. Was it guilt? Or something more troublesome. Whatever it was he hated the feeling… and it was something he intended to correct.
‘Alright… guess it’s time for a rescue mission.’