Chronicles of a Contrite Clonomancer

-Approximately 40 years ago-

In the early years of the Outback-Empire War for Independence, the Outbackian government began researching a means to create the perfect breed of supersoldiers. These experiments varied, and multiple techniques were attempted - sorcery, cybernetics, bio-engineering, and so on. All had their benefits, but just as many drawbacks. Progress was slow, and as the war raged on it became harder and harder to scrape together the immense funds required to maintain the war effort as well as the salaries for the top scientists in the country. In desperation, scouts were sent throughout the Outback in search of promising talents - which itself was a daunting task, as so many of the able-bodied were already drafted into the front lines.

Spreading out further beyond the main warzones of the Outback, in the remote and largely-untouched Sheep Country, seemed to be the best bet. Of course, Sheep Country was populated primarily by...well, Sheep. There were many small villages and tribes, but inquiring at all of them began to feel like searching for a needle in a haystack. Eventually, a scout team came upon a Beast village inhabited by humanoid catfolk. It seemed that the results would be poor as usual, as the village head noted they only had 3 mages among them, and all were quite young. Though the village didn't have the sort of formal schooling of the city, the three - two male and one female - were all comparitively 'high school age'...not nearly as experienced as the government would have liked, but times were desperate and the three were brought in to have their abilities tested. None of the three had any particular knack for magic, by their own admission - and the test results agreed. After all, it was primarily a farming village, as were most in Sheep Country, and they had little use to expand their talents beyond mere utility magic. One of the three, however - a boy of about 19 - seemed slightly more driven than the other two. Not to say he was particularly 'gifted' - his skills were as average as the other two - but from the moment they were brought into the testing facility, he seemed fascinated by the scientific studies taking place there. His eyes sparkled with a curiosity one wouldn't have expected from a simple peasant boy.

In any case, the three had failed the qualification tests and were to be dismissed back home, and the fruitless search would have to continue elsewhere. However, the curious boy begged to be given a chance. He had never experienced these sorts of intellectual pursuits before, and he knew he never would if he was sent back to his village, where he'd spend his life as a shepherd just like his father, and his father before him. He swore that he'd hone his craft and be able to be of some use, and begged on his hands and knees to be given a chance. Desperate as they were, the officials allowed it. And so the boy was moved to the barracks with the other soldiers, where he'd spend his days training and performing manual labor expected of new recruits. They couldn't exactly afford to house some upstart kid for free, after all...though he wouldn't be sent to the battlefield, the boy named Tim would from this point on be considered a soldier.

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Two years passed, and Tim had managed to get reasonably competent at his craft. His area of expertise seemed to be on the more scientific end of magery, dabbling in fields such as alchemy and medical magic, rather than flashier pursuits such as attack magic or summoning. During the two years he spent as a soldier, Tim's primary function was that of a combat medic, healing wounded soldiers brought back from the front lines. Ultimately, seemed that this was the extent of his talents, after all - not what the government had been searching for, but at the same time, they could never have enough healers on hand, so Tim was earning his keep well enough. The days passed by like this, relatively uneventful (unless you count the daily carnage of war, at least), until that fateful day...

The wounded were rushed back to the medic tents, as usual. Of course, while 'the wounded' usually referred to soldiers, it also included combat animals such as mounts and Tamer beasts. This time, Tim was called over to seal up some considerably deep wounds sustained to the 106th unit's beloved Battering Ram. Since most of the other combat medics specialized in healing HUMAN(oid) wounds, they often turned to Tim to help care for the animals due to his upbringing in a shepherding village...but even so, this ram's wounds seemed extremely serious. But Tim was determined to do everything he could to save it's life - he would have done so anyway, but the fact that it was a sheep made it even more important. Tim's village held sheep in high regard and had a great deal of respect for them - they provided the wool to keep them warm in the harsh winters (with temperatures often falling as low as a bone-chilling 60 degrees farenheit!!), gave them meat to fill their bellies and keep them strong, and their horns and bladders were useful in the crafting of all sorts of tools and impliments. That's why a sheep was a sacred animal...and Tim was not about to let this ram, who had served its country as well as any soldier, die on his table.

It had taken hours...the sun was already beginning to set beyond the horizon. The ram was in critical condition, and saving it at this point, after so much time had passed, and so much blood had been lost...seemed hopeless. But Tim refused to give up. He continued to pour the utmost of his medical knowledge and magical ability to saving the wounded animal. And that's when it happened - as he concentrated his mind towards closing up the wounds, a 'code' flashed before Tim's eyes, for just a split second. It was like a framework...the framework of life itself. He could see it unfolding behind his very eyelids, and suddenly everything seemed so simple. If he couldn't repair the ram's damaged organs...couldn't he 'rebuild' them as though they were brand new? Couldn't he unravel that 'code' of DNA he saw in his mind, and stitch it back together in the form of brand-new organs? Copy the code...build new cells. Let those cells shape new flesh and bone. Tim worked feverishly...sweat dripped from his brow, and his tail twitched in excitement as an unsettling grin spread across his face. It was on a small scale, but...bit by bit, Tim had learned how to create life. Tim had unlocked the secrets of one of the most forbidden magical arts - Clonomancy.

When the sun rose, the soldiers were greeted by the most unimaginable sight...it seemed the Battering Ram was as good as new. One of Tim's fellow medics ran up to him, astonished!! "How did you do it, man?! It's almost as though he was never wounded at all!!"

Tim closed his eyes and smiled back. His face was still streaked with dirt and blood from spending the whole night operating...that, combined with the next words out of his mouth, were enough to send his fellow doctor into a state of cold shock.

"That's right, this one WASN'T wounded!! Oh, but could you call the custodial crew over? I'm finished with that one, and it ought to be disposed before it draws flies."

There, lying on the table at the far end of the line of tents...was the corpse of the 106th unit's Battering Ram. There was no mistaking it - all of the officially-licensed battle animals employed by the military were given a brand to signify which unit they belonged to, in the event that it might run off unchecked in the heat of battle. The corpse had that brand...but the sheep standing in the field in front of the tent, grazing without a care in the world, did not.

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Tim couldn't understand why the other medics began to spew such hateful words at him...hadn't he done his job? Didn't he return a good-as-new Battering Ram to the unit, fit and ready to return to the front lines? Shouldn't he be praised for his great success? Yet somehow, he felt as though he was not brought to this cold, secluded room, beyond which only the higher-ups were usually allowed to pass, to receive congratulations.

He met with his commanding officer there, who reiterated the rumors that had passed around the barracks since this morning. Tim confirmed that everything he said was true - there was no sarcasm to his voice, no guilt or insincerity, only an even-toned indifference. When asked how he did it, Tim recited back the steps he had taken, careful to explain the 'code' he had seen, completely dispassionately - it was almost as though he were reading aloud from a textbook. When he finished, he and the CO sat face-to-face, neither speaking, for several minutes...the only sound that could be heard in the room was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Finally, the officer nodded his head, and spoke a single word:

"Come."

Tim was admittedly surprised...he thought for certain he'd done something to get himself in trouble, but the officer had only listened calmly and did not berate him the way his peers had. Though he wasn't praised, at least he wasn't scolded...what was more puzzling, however, was that his CO was leading him even deeper into the compound, into areas he'd never even heard about, much less seen, in the entire two years he'd spent living at this base camp. Finally, after being sworn to secrecy and lead beyond a very solid-looking metal door...Tim was lead into a fascinating room. Men and women of all races, some lying on high-tech tables, others covered in nodes and hooked up to bizarre machines...scientists in pristine white coats attended to some of them, administering strange injections and handing out fabulously-colored pills. Were these men and women soldiers? He'd never seen any of them before...granted, it was a reasonably large base, but after two years Tim was at least confident in his ability to recognize familiar faces. Though his mind wandered, he was soon snapped out of his reverie by a voice he'd never heard before.

"Cadet Tim. You've been recognized for your outstanding achievements in the field of medical magic. As a reward for your efforts, you've been promoted to the rank of Major General, and will henceforth be assigned to the Overman Project. Welcome aboard."

Tim was dumbfounded for a moment, and slow to realize that the strange man had stretched a hand out to him...Tim met his eyes, with an expression that said "what, me?!", before finally returning the handshake. He couldn't believe it...not only was he praised, but he was even promoted? He didn't understand what this 'Overman Project' was, but he immediately realized that it had something to do with the soldiers in this room - and judging by the security it took to bring him here, this was obviously something top-secret and of great importance. And they...wanted HIM to work on it...he couldn't believe it. His first instinct was to ask if he could send a letter to his parents and let them know how far he'd come. After all, he was just so excited, to think that a kid with no experience in anything but herding sheep could be of such use to his country!!

...that excitement immediately cooled...chilled, and froze, as he met the stern gazes of his CO and the man whose hand he'd just shaken. He felt like he was being trampled into the ground by those eyes...a clear, wordless threat to not breathe a single word of his involvement with this project to another soul, on penalty of...he couldn't even imagine. One look around this room, at the condition these soldiers were in...no, even more than that. The fact that they wanted to put HIS talents to use here...it told him right away that whatever punishment they'd have in store should he break the rules would be much worse than death. And he didn't think his own body would be as easily repaired as that of a sheep...

He took one last look around the room before nodding vigorously. He got the message. As though those eyes from a moment ago had only been a dream, the man in charge smiled warmly and offered one more 'congratulations' before turning to exit the room. Tim's CO - now his inferior, by rank - informed him that his belongings would be transferred to a private room in this wing of the building, and he needn't return to the barracks anymore. Tim didn't think he was reading much into it to interpret that as another warning against going back and letting this information slip out. With that as his final 'order' as Tim's superior, the former CO gave a silent bow before making his exit. Tim was left alone to take in the strange, sterile atmosphere that surrounded him...

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After a few weeks, Tim had acclimated to his new environment working on the Overman Project. The premise was simple, in theory. The Outback had thus far been the clear underdog in this war with the Empire, and the death toll was only rising ever higher as simple soldiers were plucked from their homes and thrown onto the battlefield with little time to train and gain experience. As it was, most of the Outback's soldiers were just patriotic youngsters with simple backgrounds, like Tim. This was understandably problematic when faced with Olaf "Konungur" Bones' Leprechaun Cavalry - a force with deadly efficiency on both land and sea. Of course, the Outback had naturally resorted to utilizing aerial attacks, for a time, but found that Bones had formed an alliance with the neighboring Blood Country after the Outback made the mistake of dropping bombs in their territory...once again, their ordinary aircrafts were no match for the Blood Kaiser's formidible squadron of Warbats. No matter what tactics they'd employ, the Empire's forces would continuously force them back to their own shores, broken and defeated. This was a problem that could not be solved by simply throwing more soldiers at it.

So, if battles couldn't be won with large numbers of inneffective soldiers...what about small numbers of hyper-competent ones? Not only would the Outback lose fewer lives that way, but the enemy would also be less likely to predict the attacks of a sneakier band of fewer soldiers. Of course, finding this ideal group of grizzled, battle-ready soldiers powerful enough to win skirmishes with the likes of the Empire was an obvious crapshoot. Such soldiers did not exist...thus, they had to be created.

This was the purpose of the Overman Project - to engineer a small battalion of ultra-powerful soldiers, surpassing the limits of ordinary Man and Beast races. For the past four years, this project had seen little in the way of significant advancement - there were various degrees of successes, but nothing that could be called a true breakthrough. The Project was staffed by a handful of teams with different specialties - magical enhancement, biotechnology, injections, cybernetics, nutritional supplements, and so on. Tim was assigned to team specializing in bioengineering. While he was never tasked with anything quite as large-scale as cloning an entire sheep, his abilities were useful in rebuilding and enhancing organs and tissues to be more resilient. His works were then transplanted into patients with...varying levels of success. In the beginning, Tim would watch in fascination to see how a body would react to the changes he'd made, and use that knowledge to tweak his formulas and try newer and better things. It was the thrill of scientific discovery that kept him going, even if the Project itself didn't seem all that promising.

As time went by, however, Tim's fascination began to dull...the excitement just wasn't there anymore, and his days were once again filled with the tedium of routine busywork. Fortunately the rotational shifts kept things somewhat interesting. When new soldiers were brought in to be subjects for the Project, they would be assigned to groups, which were then assigned to one of the Project teams. That team would work with the same group for two weeks, and then any subjects that were deemed promising (read: any who survived the experiments without becoming a vegetable) would be grouped together and given to a different Project team to see how they would react to THEIR testing, and so on and so forth. This rotation generally didn't make it through more than two Project teams before even the 'promising' candidates would cave under the combined stress of the experiments. It was understandable...the average body simply could not handle the tests these soldiers were put through. It didn't take long for Tim to become painfully aware of that fact.

This week was a bit different than normal, though. The teams had just switched groups once again, and Tim knew a lot of these faces would not make it beyond his team's testing. What was unusual was that there was one soldier in his group whose face still held that spark of hope and determination that was almost unheard of in this horrible place. He certainly didn't LOOK like anything special - he was a fairly skinny, lanky teenager who didn't seem like he'd seen any action on the field yet...were they getting that desperate to pull in test subjects for the Project? Then again, Tim surmised, it did make some amount of sense to save the 'capable' soldiers for fighting, and use the less-than-able cadets as fodder for the inevitably unsuccessful experiments...though if the higher-ups really had such little hope in the Overman Project, Tim had to wonder why they were still funding it.

Regardless, this kid had, miraculously, already gone through one other Project team...and neither his body NOR his spirit had been broken yet. Tim didn't generally try to get to know his subjects beyond the usual smalltalk, anymore - it made it easier to accept death when you don't feel a personal connection - but he couldn't resist his natural curiosity. He wanted to understand what it was about this boy that let him smile after being subjected to the harsh testing thus far.

"Hmm...I guess I've got a lot of resistance to strange chemicals? The doctors always used to say that I was weirdly immune to getting sick. Even if everyone else at home came down with the flu, I'd be feeling as fit as ever", said the boy named Bradley. He seemed to be just a few years younger than Tim, probably around the same age he was when he'd first become a soldier. "I know that physically I'm not that strong, and I'm not all that great with weapons, but..."

The boy looked up at Tim, with a determination in his eyes that shook him to his very core.

"I want to feel like...I can be useful. Like I can make a difference, too. Like my life matters."

It was a very...basic determination. Cliche, even. A young kid who joins the military because he wants to feel like he's making a difference. Tim wasn't really sure why such a simple reason moved him the way it did...but there was something about the boy's eyes that he couldn't explain. Tim found himself very intrigued by this Bradley, and the two would chat regularly during their sessions together over the next two weeks.

Apparently, Bradley's reason for joining was actually even sillier than that. While enlisting during wartime wasn't mandatory in the Outback, the military began feeling more and more desperate as time went by. They hadn't yet gone ahead with full-on forced recruitment...but their propaganda tactics had started to get bolder. Ad campaigns laden with a passive-aggressive, guilt-tripping attitude were becoming the norm, essentially saying the extent of 'we won't force you to join, but if you don't sacrifice your life to help your country in its time of need you are a horrible person and will be judged by your peers accordingly'. Certainly, it seemed to be working - more and more of Bradley's friends and classmates began taking leaves of absence to enlist. After a while, his classes dwindled down to 3-4 other students aside from him...and he felt like the eyes of the teachers and faculty were burning a hole through him just for being there. Saying, 'you're young and able-bodied, shame on you for not enlisting'. That feeling extended outward to his overall social life...it got to where he no longer even felt like going to the mall to grab a bite to eat, or walking through his neighborhood, because he felt that constant judgment eating into his soul. And then, quite frankly, boredom...

"After a while, I realized that all my friends were gone. They'd already enlisted, and I was still here. There was no one to hang out with anymore, and being alone and judged like that was pretty miserable...I felt like I had no choice but to join."

I see...so unlike me, who was eager to leave my village and get some worldly experience, this kid felt like he was being forced out. Tim thought it was kind of sad. It's not that he had a great deal of patriotism and was happy to serve for his country, so much as he was driven so far into a corner that it felt like there was no other path for him to take.

"But you know, I decided something. If I was going to feel pressured into joining up anyway, then I may as well make myself useful...I've always felt sort of average. I was never bullied, or unpopular, and I know a lot of kids had it much worse. But I always felt like I was invisible."

Bradley was sitting up on the operating table, rubbing between his neck and his shoulder with a look of pain on his face. Tim had just finished extracting some tissue samples to work with. All things considered, Tim actually had one of the least gruesome jobs in the whole facility - very little of his work involved directly operating on the subjects himself. Once he got the samples he needed, he was able to work independently...though he still had to bear witness to the results of his labors being implanted into new subjects afterwards. It almost felt like cheating, being able to just chat so casually like this. Granted, Bradley was doing most of the chatting - Tim continued to listen, nodding along and saying things like 'I see', and 'of course'.

"After a few days of training, they pulled aside the cadets like me. You know, the weaker ones, the ones with less muscles and all that. So they pulled us aside, and they gave us a choice. We could continue to go through that training, every day, until our fragile bodies broke down and we were sent home on stretchers, or we could take part in some sort of 'experimental testing' that might be more agreeable to us. I don't know about you, but even the idea of being shocked with electrodes sounded better to me than doing pushups in the mud for 6 hours, haha."

Tim couldn't deny that the kid looked like he'd snap in half as easily as a twig were he to go through that sort of training every day. Even Tim had to endure the torturous hours of bootcamp when he'd first arrived, before his talents as a combat medic saw him put to better use. His body was already reasonably fit, though, considering he'd spent his life doing manual labor on a farm before that point - it seemed like it would be another story for this soft city kid. Then again, it's not as though this place was going to be any easier on him. It was amazing that he hadn't succumbed to it by now, but Tim knew it was only a matter of time - after all, he'd seen it so many times before that he'd become completely desensitized.

Two weeks had passed, yet you'd never know it from Bradley's face. It looked a lot more forced than it had when he'd first come to Tim's group...but somehow, he had still managed to smile. Aside from a few bruises on his body where various samples had been taken, Bradley was largely unscathed - but that was only because Tim's team was arguably the easiest. Tim aside, even the other scientists on the bio engineering team rarely exceeded the sort of testing you'd see in a more 'legitimate' medical testing program. The real test of that kid's perseverence would be very sudden, and very harsh...for the team he was headed towards was Cybernetics.

"Well, guess that's it, huh? Thanks for listening to me these past few weeks. You're a good guy."

Somehow, those words...stung. Delivered with an innocent smile and a short wave, Bradley walked into the arms of what Tim knew would surely be his Grim Reaper.

"A good person, huh..."

For the first time since he'd joined the Overman Project...no, even before, since the moment he first reveled in his discovery of Clonomancy...Tim began to wonder if there was a limit to scientific curiosity, and just how far beyond that threshold he had gone.

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Screams ripped out from the back room. Cybernetics, again. Of course, he was already used to this. Tim and his fellow scientists continued to crack away at their own projects as though the room was perfectly silent, not disturbed in the slightest by the gut-wrenching noises that filled the air. Tim briefly wondered if that voice belonged to Bradley, but it was almost impossible to tell...his gurgling howls had long passed the point of sounding remotely human. It was a shame that even he would be broken by the torturous experiments of THAT team, but it couldn't be helped. He'd signed his death warrant the moment he stepped through that imposing metal door. Tim tried pushing it from his mind and continuing his own work, but...try as he might, he couldn't get that kid's smile out of his head.

"This is why it's better not to get involved...", he muttered to himself listlessly.

After a few hours, the screams had finally stopped. No doubt, the subject had succumbed to the incredible strain of having cybernetics forced into their body...had rejected the transplants, and finally expired. Again, Tim thought of Bradley...he hoped that it wasn't him, but even if it wasn't, his turn would come eventually. There was no escaping this facility - you couldn't simply go up to the director and say 'I changed my mind, put me back in boot camp'. Their secrets were too important, after all - there's no way anyone could just freely walk away once they'd been taken to this room. Of course, that went for the scientists as well as the subjects. All they could do was continue dutifully working, regardless of how furiously the needle on their moral compass pointed them towards the exit. Tim remembered those threatening eyes that told him of a punishment worse than death when he'd first come here - and by now, he vaguely understood it. The punishment for any scientist who went against the order of things would no doubt be to become a subject themselves. Sorry, Bradley...seems like neither of us knew what we were getting ourselves into.

Eventually, night fell. There had been no more screams from the cybernetics room since. Most likely, the day's experiment was a failure, and further testing had been suspended until the mess was cleaned up. It was very important to keep the facilities in this lab clean and sterile, after all - you couldn't just throw a corpse off the operating table and toss another subject on there to pick up where you left off. That's why Tim was sure of it when the screaming didn't resume for the rest of the day, because testing would only have been suspended in the event of a death...and the need to clean up any resulting contamination before starting on a new patient. In any case, it was about time for light's out, and one by one the other scientists began filing out of the facility to return to their private rooms. The dormatory wing was, of course, part of this same laboratory building - as was the cafeteria, and any other facility the scientists may have needed in their day-to-day business. They really were just rats shut up inside a cage.

Tim stretched his arms high above his head and let out a mighty yawn...today had been more exhausting than usual, for some reason. Most likely trying to force himself to work and keep Bradley off his mind had been pretty stressful...there it was again. Bradley. Why couldn't he stop thinking about that kid already? He had already been pretty sure that those screams were his. In that case, he was already dead, and no longer worth wasting time thinking about. So why couldn't he stop? Was it really a mistake to spend so much time chatting with him as he did? In this line of work, he should have known better. No, he DID know better. He knew even while it was happening that it would be a mistake. Once you get to know someone personally, you can't help but be emotionally affected by their death. Therefore, as a man of science, Tim had trained himself to stop seeing his subjects as human beings a long time ago. Of course, this stretched back to before he began work on the Overman Project - he'd already become desensitized to death by the time he came here, after seeing so many wounded soldiers never leave the medical tent. It was horrible in the beginning. You felt like a little part of your soul died every time you, or one of the other doctors, lost a patient. But like anything else, you got used to it. No, even more than that...hadn't he been used to slaughtering the family's sheep from a young age? Of course, as a child, Tim would grow attached to the fluffy creatures, who became part of the family...but when the season came, he had to butcher them all the same. He had already been used to that feeling for most of his life.

That's why you kill off that part of yourself that sees others as individuals, with hopes and dreams of their own. It's easier to treat them the same as livestock...you can enjoy their company for a short time, but all the while you're aware that, one day soon, you're going to butcher them. It's nothing personal, that's just how it is. That's how it was on the farm, that's how it was in the medic tent, and that's certainly how it was on this twisted waste of money known as the Overman Project. What's an 'Overman' supposed to be anyway? They can't honestly think this level of experimenting is going to yield some sort of Human-Beyond-Human, can they?! All this place is, is a tax-funded slaughterhouse. Tim's team sure hadn't made any noteworthy progress in the almost 6 months he'd been here, and, while he didn't interact with the other teams all that much, he was pretty sure it was the same for everybody. What was up with the cybernetics team, anyway? All the other teams had to work in separate 'stations' in this one, large lab room...but only they had a separate 'office' room to themselves. What were they keeping in there that was so special they got that kind of treatment? For them to lose so many subjects, they don't seem like they deserve it all that much!!

Tim felt a strange combination of anger, jealousy, and curiosity. By this time, all the other scientists had already gone back to the dorms. He was the only one here, so the job of locking up had been left to him. He glanced at the end table in the corner of the room - sure enough, they were there. It was customary to leave the keyring on that table and have the last scientist to leave for the night lock up. Of course, this involved more than just locking the door behind them as they left. You had to do a full sweep of the lab to ensure all machines were turned off, all chemicals were properly stored away, and there was no risk of something sparking a fire or explosion during the night. It was a tedious job, so most scientists tried to finish their work for the day by 9:55 PM at the latest, so they could be out the door before light's out. Actually, Tim was always pretty efficient, and this was the first time he'd ever been here later than that. Briefly, he was frustrated at his carelessness getting caught up in his thoughts and being stuck with locking up...but then he remembered what he had just been thinking about. This was the perfect chance, wasn't it? The keys were right there, and there was no one here to stop him. Aside from locking up, scientists were expected to keep to their own stations and not mess around with others, since they might not be familiar with the organizational system of the others and could accidentally leave things out of place and cause a hassle for another team. That's also why most teams were careful to perform their nightly cleanup by themselves, so whoever got stuck with locking up didn't have to spendm uch time checking their stations - it was, in part, common courtesy and consideration for the person with lockup duty, but honestly it was more a means to prevent having someone else mess with their stuff.

In any case, for that reason, the door to the cybernetics room was usually already locked up by the cybernetics team before light's out. Sure enough, Tim confirmed that with a turn of the knob - he felt the sturdy resistance of the lock. A last measure that said, 'you're not welcome in this room', which made him scoff under his breath again...like the other teams aren't working as hard, or producing as many results as the cybernetics team. That sort of entitlement and special treatment really upset Tim for some reason. Once again, that confirmed his resolve to enter that room and see what was so special about it that deserved its own office.

Searching through the bundle of keys, Tim's fingers found the one tagged 'cbr'. 'Cyber', no doubt. Sure enough, the key fit the lock perfectly, and with a simple turn of his wrist Tim was able to push his way past the door. It was a room he'd never been in, but common sense told him the light switch would probably be...yup. The wall right next to the door. *flip*. Bright, fluorescent light filled the small room. Tim's eyes took a moment to adjust - he'd been standing in the dark for several minutes already, and his catlike pupils already had no trouble seeing at that level of light, so the sudden brightness was a bit painful. After a moment, though, he should have been able to process the contents of that room without issue. Indeed, his eyes had processed it just fine.

It was his brain that couldn't reconcile what his eyes were telling him.

"Brad...ley...?"

If a normal person saw a body lying prone on their back, they may have a hard time telling whether that person was dead or merely sleeping without performing a proper inspection. But when you've seen as many corpses as Tim had, the different signs of life vs. death are extremely easy to notice at a glance. The coloration of the flesh, subtle signs of breathing, indications of rigor mortis...there were many telltale signs to differenciate the living from a corpse. That's why...Tim was so shocked. Because what was lying on the operating chair in this small office room, surrounded by a scattering of microchips and torn scrap metal was, without a doubt...

...a living being.

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"...ey. ......dley. .........Bradley!!"

It had taken several minutes, but Bradley had finally responded to Tim's voice. Slowly, and with some difficulty, he was able to move his body into a sitting position...his eyes still seemed a bit glazed over, and he was mumbling in a way that seemed he was unsure of where he was.

"Bradley, are you alright? Do you remember who I am?"

"Nnh...you're...Mr. Tim...right?"

Thank goodness, he doesn't seem to have lost his memories at least. He could remember Tim's face, which meant he knew that he was in the military's laboratory facility. And aside from his haziness, he didn't appear to be particularly injured. ...actually, that made this situation all the more surreal. Tim had opened the lab door expecting to find a corpse, so it wouldn't have surprised him to see one. He'd only entered because he wanted to take a quick look at what sort of facilities the cybernetics team had been granted their own room for, anyways. And truthfully, the room wasn't nearly as extravagant as Tim's wild imagination had been picturing. It was really just a small office space that had been converted into a lab, with an operating chair and a few shelves with disassembled computer parts lying about. Actually, it looked a lot like a dentist's office...that's what the operating chair reminded Tim of, anyway. It had been set in a position that was almost completely flat, and Bradley was lying on top of it. Tim didn't want to mess around with the other team's equipment too much, so he hadn't wanted to try moving the chair into an upright position to make Bradley more comfortable...instead, he lent his shoulder while the boy rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, as though his head still hurt after waking up.

That was when Tim first took notice of it. At first, he was just so shocked to see that Bradley was, miraculously, ALIVE after whatever ordeal had caused those sounds this afternoon...and wanted to make sure he was at least still in his right mind. So, he hadn't noticed it, even though looking at it now made his mind scream 'are you blind? There's no way you could miss that!!'. That's because...Bradley's hand...wrist...no, his entire arm, up to the shoulder...both of them, in fact...were gone. To be more accurate, they had been replaced. And in their place were two very expensive-looking proesthetics. They looked very 'naked', with lots of strange wires exposed, and a steady electric blue pulse running through the circuits. Bradley held his forehead in one of those cold, metallic hands...though he didn't seem to react any differently than if it were his own flesh-and-blood hand. Had he not noticed it yet? He seemed like he was still adjusting after waking up from whatever sort of induced state he had been in. So, it was perhaps a mistake for Tim to just blurt it out as quickly as he did, without giving the kid a proper chance to wake up.

"Your...arm..."

He regretted it the instant those two words passed his lips. That's because he saw Bradley visibly wince when he did. Perhaps he did notice it, and it was a sensitive topic? No, what am I saying...OF COURSE it's a sensitive topic!! His arms were just torn off and replaced with prosthetics, weren't they?!

"M-my..."

Bradley removed his hand from his forehead and held it in front of his face for some time. Staring down at it, as though there were some sort of blurry, out-of-focus insect crawling...across his fingers, onto his palm, up his wrist and further, that was what it felt like to Tim, watching the movement pattern of his eyes. He was trembling slightly as he continued to stare at his strange hand, with a wide-eyed mix of confusion and terror. Finally, his eyes settled on one spot, and he seemed to be analyzing the situation. He clenched and released a fist, one time, two times, three times...wiggled his fingers, at first randomly, and then in sequence, from pinkie to thumb...flexed his wrist, then his elbow. Certainly, despite their fancy shininess, the prosthetics seemed to behave remarkably like a real, human arm. Tim's scientific curiosity rose again, fascinated at the display...admittedly, he was more of a 'science guy' than a 'tech guy', but he couldn't help but be impressed by the incredible range of motion in the prosthetic. Whoever designed them...he had to concede. They deserved this room.

(I'll have to give the team my sincere congratulations tomorrow), Tim thought briefly, still so busy marvelling over the craftsmanship of the arm that he'd once again made a pretty significant oversight. No, maybe it's because Bradley was holding his face in his hand earlier that Tim didn't notice it until now. This time, however, he was careful not to blurt it out and startle him. It didn't take Bradley very long to notice it himself, however...because when he'd finished confirming that his hand worked, he reached for it, ever so carefully. His finger...grazed...the smooth glass plate that had been fitted over his eye. And then, he looked at Tim, his face still fearful, with a nervous smile.

"Hey, can you tell me...where this is? What am I...what I'm doing, at it? Here...?"

He was tripping over his words, so Tim tried to speak as clearly and calmly as he could.

"You're in the cybernetics room right now. You were lying in the chair when I opened the door and found you. That's when I came over and--"

"No", he said curtly, interrupting Tim. "This...place. What is this place? This...nngh..."

He grabbed his face in his hands again. He seemed to be having some difficulty with his memory, after all...but, something about that rubbed Tim the wrong way. Because, after all, just a moment ago...he recognized Tim's face, didn't he?

"Um, earlier...", Tim said, cutting right to the chase. "You hear my voice and woke up, and then, you looked at my face. At that time...you seemed to remember who I was, and even called my name, didn't you? Are you still not sure...where you are...?"

"Y-your name...I knew it because...because..."

He stammered a few times. Tim couldn't tell if he was having trouble forming a sentence with those words, or if he was just confused about what he should say...but he did his best to remain patient and allow the kid to gather his thoughts. As much as he was dying to pry that information out of him, because at that moment, he was feeling about as confused as Bradley looked. Finally, the boy spoke, tapping a finger on the glass panel over his eye. As he did so...it shone. Was it some sort of display...?

"I knew your name because...when I looked at your face, it showed up...on here..."

Bradley was staring Tim straight in the eyes at this point. His face was so close that Tim could feel his ragged breath against his bangs. So, he was definitely close enough that he, too, could read the words on that display. It was mirrored, but there were only three short letters there, so it was pretty unmistakable. After all, he was familiar enough with that word that whether backwards, upside down, or thrown into a blender, he would have been able to recognize it.

>[ T I M ]<

"Um, not to be pushy, but...", Bradley continued. For some reason, his voice sounded very far away to Tim right now. "I'll ask it again. Mr. Tim...can you please tell me where this is?"

Tim felt like he was sucked underwater. Bradley's voice began to grow distant, and garbled. He wasn't really sure what he was saying anymore, but his expression was getting more and more demanding for every second Tim didn't respond. But he couldn't. How could he? What was going on?! Bradley had truly lost his memories, and he knew Tim's name because it magically showed up on his face plate? No, that's no it. Calm down. You're a mage yourself, even if it was magic that shouldn't be surprising. This is the cybernetics team, of course inventing a machine that can tell you a person's name when you look at them isn't TOO farfetched, right? No, but how does that work?! On what scientific principle does a glass display know someone's name at a glance? Even if it were just an eyepiece with internet access and some sort of information database, could something of that level truly grab a person's name just from a look at their face?! Moreover, moreover!! His arms!! They replaced his arms too!! They seem to function well enough, but that's not the point!! And maybe, maybe I was distracted. Distracted by that...THING, on his face, by that thing, by his eyes, by his fear, maybe I didn't notice it, was there another thing there too? Did I imagine it, was there or was there not something else strange about his body???? No, even more important than that!! All that screaming, and then the silence, and he survived it all?! This goes way beyond the level of having some 'disease immunity'!! WHAT IN THE WORLD ELSE DID THEY DO TO HIM?! WHAT *IS* THIS ROOM?!

In all honesty, Tim shouldn't have been so confused. He'd been working in this facility for several months now, and seen things far more gruesome, AND far more scientifically amazing, than a boy with metal arms. But somehow, the collective shock of all these strange occurrences at once...coupled with his slow-growing disgust at the sort of work they've been performing here...it hit him like an ice cream truck to the face. His vision blurred, and he felt like his ears were popping after getting out of a swimming pool, and his body was pulsing like when you have a fever and your body is burning yet the temperature feels too cold and you can't stop shivering...this time, it was Bradley who snapped HIM back to his senses, grabbing hold of his shoulders and giving him a good few shakes.

"Hey, hey!! Are you alright?!"

"A-ah...s-sorry, I'm fine...sorry, sorry..."

Bradley sighed. "Look, I know where we are. This...this thing told me. I just had to look around a bit and it...told me."

Tim felt himself going limp again, but Bradley's sharp voice made him sit up straight.

"Look!! This is...a very dangerous place!! They've been carrying out human experiments here, using people as guinnea pigs in their sick attempts at 'research'!! So many...many are already dead!! It doesn't look like they've operated on you yet, but you'll die too if we don't get you out of here!!"

"I-I'm--"

"HURRY!!"

Tim didn't even have a chance to collect his thoughts, let alone explain that Bradley was mistaken. The boy grabbed his arm tightly. It hurt. As he stood up, for the first time, Tim yet again noticed something he hadn't before. Bradley was already tall, but he was skinny as a rail. His human arms, may they rest in peace, may well have been twigs. But now, it was more than just the metal arms...his entire body had filled out to an unbelievable extent. It was as though he'd gone through 3 months of training camp in less than two days. Tim's head was spinning, trying to ponder over whether that muscle was natural or if he was all metal underneath that fitted black tanktop, but his train of thought was broken by a thick sound.

THUNK. The ceiling above them...caved in. Bradley stood over Tim, shielding him as the rubble crashed unceremoniously to the floor. A hole the size of a watermelon had been opened...how was it opened?!

"Not enough...hah!!"

That was how. Bradley raised his hand and something shot from his palm, blasting into the ceiling and widening the hole. More rubble crashed to the floor...Bradley continued to shield Tim with his body. By this time, Tim thought he had a light ringing in his ears...first, he thought it was just that 'underwater ear popping' feeling from earlier, but he soon realized it. Alarms had begun sounding throughout the compound. I see, of course. Security was breached from the moment he destroyed the ceiling...

"Come on, we've got to hurry!! If they catch up to us, they WON'T let us get away!!"

Tim couldn't exactly argue. He had scarcely gotten the words out before Bradley hoisted him over his shoulder like he was no more than a bag of cheap flour. And then, he...jumped. No, flew?! Before Tim could process what was happening, they were already in the sky. The fluorescent light shone through the collapsed ceiling of the cybernetics lab like the tiniest glimmer of a star in the distance...

As they continued to move, Tim took notice of more lights, of different colors this time. Flashes of red, and blue...there was quite a scene going on down below. Were they made that the cybernetics lab had been destroyed? No, of course not...Tim began to feel his rationality return a bit at a time, even with such an unbelievable situation still unfolding around him. Two of their valuable subjects had just escaped...a scientist privy to a LOT of government secrets, and...Bradley. No, that's not it. It was suddenly very obvious to Tim why they were causing such a fuss over Bradley escaping. And in the instant he realized that, the other pieces fell into place, too. The arms, the glass display, the sudden musculature, the ability to shoot missiles from the hand and jump through the sky effortlessly. They couldn't have cared less that a lowly scientist like Tim had escaped at this point. What they were after was far more valuable.

After all, the Overman Project had been a rousing success.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

He didn't know how long it had been. He was 'sleeping' for a long time, he knew that much...because he'd been half-conscious the entire time, anyway. It would be pretty hard to sleep for real after something like that...

Sirens were blaring in the not-so-distance, but it wasn't the alarm of their pursuers this time. That's because those pursuers were no more. Bradley had destroyed the entire facility. Somehow, his shoulders had opened up and...some sort of cannon with unbelievable destructive power laid waste to the entire laboratory. No, the entire compound. The lab, the dorms, the barracks, all of it. Every last trace that there had been a military base in that spot was erased in the span of minutes, and what remained was nothing more than a massive, flaming crater. Not even all the destruction from the war so far combined could match the raw, destructive power that Bradley had just displayed.

Tim's head was still fuzzy. Even pulling his body into a sitting position took some effort. He had never truly lost consciousness, but after they were flying in the sky and Bradley started shooting missiles...Tim's comprehension of rational thought overloaded, and his brain went dark. He could remember bits and pieces of what happened after that, but it wasn't clear, like the feeling left by a fleeting dream. Bradley had managed to dodge their pursuers and land here, atop a secluded, broken down building. He told Tim something about how he'd be safer here than down below, where they would be searching...it seemed like he still misunderstood and believed Tim to be a fellow subject. Then...he left. He had said something that Tim couldn't remember, but he at least recalled the strained look on his face. He was clutching his arm, and...was he trembling?

He was...furious, wasn't he? Of course. Tim understood that. He had vented his rage by destroying the lab already, but...would that really be enough to satisfy his rage at being forced to undergo such a painful transfiguration? But with the lab gone, who else could he get revenge on? The facility had been fanatical about security, and understandably so. As such, it was very unlikely that there was anyone on the outside who knew anything about the Overman Project. Anyone except for Tim, at least. At that moment, Tim was extremely glad that Bradley didn't realize he, too, was a scientist on the project...but surely, he'd get his memories back eventually. When that happened, he would remember Tim...and come for him. Of that Tim was certain. Whether he had directly aided in Bradley's transformation or not, Tim was still involved in those horrific experiments, and there's no way he would escape with his life...

But if that were to happen, he at least wanted to clear some of his guilt. Better to come clean about his true identity and suffer the consequences than to wait, wondering every moment for the rest of his life when his death would come. It wasn't that Tim felt particularly guilty about his own experiments, though...it was a complicated emotion, wanting to condemn the ones who did worse things than he did, as though turning a blind eye himself wasn't worthy of blame. Even after all he'd seen, all he'd done...Tim was a man of science. He wanted to believe in the necessity of sacrifice for the sake of scientific progress, even if he had to draw the arbitrary, somewhat hypocritical line at turning an idealistic young boy into an unstoppable killing machine.

Once again Tim turned his eyes to the still-smoldering crater where the lab had once been, its fire and great plumes of smoke in the darkness visible to his catlike eyes even at this distance.

"The horrible things we did in there...are better off forgotten."

Bradley now had both the power to unleash that sort of destruction , as well as the willingness to do it. He would surely turn the tide of war, just as planned...but it wouldn't stop there. After all, it was the Outback government that did this, not the Empire. Tim didn't really see him obediently fighting for this side. He would kill indiscriminately until he was satisfied, and who knows how many lives it would take for that to happen? Tim may not have been on the team that created him, but he knew he had to accept at least some of the responsibility for turning a blind eye...and as, most likely, the last survivor of the Overman Project scientists.

His entire life for the past two and a half years had been in the place where there was now nothing but a smoldering crater. However, it wasn't as though he had any important material items, or made any friends. He had simultaneously lost everything, yet had nothing to lose.

"Alright, then...it's decided."

Even if he had no hope of stopping Bradley, he knew he had to find him. He had to at least confess the truth to him...no. He WANTED to. Even if he was killed before he could get a word out, that would be okay. If the government found out he was still alive and harboring their secrets he'd be captured and killed anyway. If he could just talk to him, maybe, even if the chance was microscopic, he could stop his rampage and save......no. Tim shook his head once again, knowing he wasn't being honest with himself. He wasn't so foolhardedly righteous that he was going to sacrifice his life to "save millions of people" or something as lofty and impossible like that.

The only one he really wanted to save...was Bradley. Even now, he couldn't get that kid's idealistic smile out of his head. Tim felt like it was his fault for sending him off to his cruel fate without so much as a warning, and let him get turned into...THAT. He had to at least try and make him remember who he was. Even if he still wanted to kill Tim. Even if he still wanted to rampage until his heart was satisfied. Tim didn't care about any of that. If he could just get that boy to smile one more time, then he would be able to die with no regrets.

Tim rose, shakily, to his feet, dusting himself off. He took a look down at his dirtied white lab coat...and with a flourish, tossed it aside. He wouldn't be needing that anymore, nor, quite frankly, did he want it. White was SO not his color anyway.

"I'll need to stop by the cloak store and pick up something in red later", he mused, before focusing his vision on the flames in distance.

Bradley left a devastating trail of destruction behind him so far, and there was no doubt that would only continue. Fortunately for Tim, that made him easy to track. He would travel by night, using his enhanced feline vision and senses to aid him, while hopefully avoiding the pursuit of any government agents. Bradley had instantly recognized his name at a glance, which shocked him at the time...but thinking logically, Tim realized that the government almost certainly had a database with information on every scientist working on the project. Which meant that, even with the facility destroyed and most of the scientists no doubt dead, there would still be agents to whom his face was known. He would have to move carefully...but if he was TOO slow, he'd never catch up to that rocket-powered superman.

"Looks like I'm in for a baaaa-d night."

Clasping a hand over his mouth for slipping into his old habit of speaking like a sheep, Tim got down on all fours and began to sprint through the darkness...