*Years ago - Yokosuka Station*

?This augmentation will make you...the Ultimate Weapon.?

Bernard had a grin on his face like he?d just won the Super Bowl. ?Well I?m in,? he said. ?Just show me where I?ve gotta sign.?

?Eh, I dunno about that one,? Collins replied. This whole thing was sounding more and more wrong. They wanted to make his bones unbreakable? Why? So he could kill for them? So he could soldier for them? This wasn?t what he was here for. This wasn?t what he wanted to be a part of.

As usual, Ahdee?Khee was the one who remembered their original mission. Without making any commitment to the project he asked Jiganov, ?Is there any technical data that you might be able to provide us, Ms. Jiganov, so I can bring it back to my superiors??

Natashenka Jiganov continued to smile her perfect and oh-so-suggestive little smile at them. ?I believe your superiors already have the technical information they need.?

Collins and Ahdee?khee shared a curious look. Already had the information, did they? Then why exactly were they there?

Before either of them could ask, Bernard forced his way back into the conversation. ?That?s great. When can we begin??

?Immediately, if you?d like.? Jiganov?s smile never wavered. It was starting to creep him out a little bit. Then again, whenever that smile was directed at him, he found himself unable to keep from offering a little half-grin in return. She was beautiful, that was certain.

?Sure thing,? Bernard replied. He was almost feral in his grin. ?Count me in.?

?Hold on there, Wes,? Glenn interjected. Collins suppressed a grin. If there was one thing Wesley Bernard hated, it was being called Wes. ?We need to deliver that information back to our commanders.?

Bernard snorted. ?You heard the lady, Ahdee?khee. They got everything they need back at command. I?m in.?

?I?m not,? Collins said, simple as that. ?My bones are just fine the way they are.?

Bernard shot Collins a disgusted look. ?So? I don?t care about you. If you don?t wanna do it, fine. Like I said: I?m in.?

Ahdee?khee stood up a little straighter. ?We were given specific directives in our mission briefing, Corporal Bernard, and we are going to adhere to them.?

This wasn?t Glenn speaking. This was Corporal Glenn Ahdee?Khee of S.E.F.F. speaking. Even Wesley Bernard would think twice before questioning him when he talked like that.

Didn?t mean he wouldn?t question him. Just meant he?d have to think twice before doing it.

Before he could, however, Jiganov raised a hand, chuckling as if she were watching schoolboys in a brawl. ?Unfortunately, gentlemen, we would need all three of you for the Adamantium bonding process.?

?Why is that?? Ahdee?khee asked.

?The process we have set up requires three subjects for the Adamantium feed. The metal needs to be infused at one time, and once it?s in a liquid form we cannot reverse the process, nor separate it. If we were to attempt a bonding with only one, or only two individuals, we would risk the chance of overloading the body with more Adamantium than it may be able to handle. This may have adverse effects on the body?s organs and vital functions.?

?But you said it was safe,? Ahdee?khee began, but he was cut off by Bernard.

?So then only liquefy enough Adamantium for one person.?

?The Adamantium is already in a liquid state,? Jiganov said. ?As we were expecting three individuals. If you do not accept, then I will have to locate other volunteers.?

Collins had been remaining silent throughout most of this. As far as he was concerned, the decision was already made. He wasn?t doing it, and no amount of begging from this woman, even with her soft blue eyes seeming to smile at him whenever she looked his way, was going to change his mind.

But what did ?other volunteers? mean? How many more people with advanced healing factors were there? How many other candidates did they have? Was this the first step in what might someday be an army of soldiers with unbreakable bones?

He wasn?t sure how he felt about that. If the Neos ever came back, having soldiers who couldn?t break their bones might be a good thing. But what if the Neos got their hands on this technology? With their ability to mass produce soldiers, it might mean the end of the human race.

None of that changed his mind. He was out.

?Well, I accept,? Bernard said, glaring at Ahdee?khee and Collins both as if he could intimidate them into agreeing with him.

?Well, I don?t,? Collins said sharply.

?And unfortunately, neither do I,? Ahdee?khee said. ?At least not at the moment. I?d like some time to report to my superiors and weigh my options.?

?Very well then, Corporal. But I?d suggest you make up your mind quickly, as we do have other subjects in mind.? That beautiful smile flashed to each of them in turn, and when Jiganov spoke, it was with utter understanding and compassion. ?I?ll be on Yokosuka station for the next twenty-four hours.? Finally, her eyes settled directly on Ahdee?khee. ?If you change your mind, I?ll be waiting to hear from you.?

Bernard muttered a short growl and stormed out of the room. Collins rolled his eyes and followed after him, with Ahdee?khee following shortly behind him.

Ultimate weapon. He felt like that meant something. They weren?t trying to make the Ultimate soldier or the Ultimate guardian. They were trying to make the Ultimate weapon. He was enough of a student of history to know that he could never live with the guilt of an Alfred Nobel or a Robert Oppenheimer. He didn?t want to be responsible for anything that might be considered an ultimate weapon, as both of those men?s accomplishments had once been considered.

Self-defense was one thing. He had learned from Professor Xavier that there was nothing wrong with self-defense. He was skilled in hand to hand combat, he always made sure to carry a phaser on him (to hell with S.E.F.F. sidearm regulations, they could just try and take it from him) and he was violent when he had to be. But that was different from being a weapon. Much different.

Collins was still lost in thought when he rounded the corner and started heading down the hallway that would lead to the runway. He hadn?t noticed that Ahdee?khee wasn?t behind him; not until Bernard suddenly turned towards him, causing him to skid to a halt.

?What the hell is your problem, Collins??

?Do I have to choose just one?? Collins said, the flippant remark tumbling out of him before he could stop it. It might not be such a good idea to piss Wesley Bernard off even more. He was already in trouble for getting into one fight today. He didn?t want to make it two, and he especially didn?t want that second fight to be with Bernard. That fight was not one he was guaranteed to win.

?You?re a f***ing joke. That?s all you are. Weren?t you listening, man? We?d be invincible. They?re offering to make us invincible!?

?They?re offering to make us into weapons.?

?And you?re acting like they?re tryin? to spit in your face! Jesus, it?s bad enough I got Ahdee?khee slobberin? all over any woman I call dibs on, but then I gotta deal with you and your cowardly spacer s***.?

Collins fought the urge to laugh in his face. ?You called ?dibs? on her? How old are you??

Bernard snarled and shoved his palm against Collins? shoulder. It was fast; faster than Collins could react, and he was pushed violently against the wall from the hit. Pointing a finger in Collins? face, Bernard leaned in close to him. ?Don?t mess this up for me with your pacifist spacer crap, Corporal.?

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall made Bernard snarl again and shove Collins? shoulder one last time as he stepped back. Ahdee?khee made his way around the corner just in time for Bernard to give him the same angry glare he?d just given Collins before he started walking swiftly down the runway.

Collins shook his head slightly. Bernard was getting more out of control, and eventually either he or Ahdee?Khee were going to have to deal with him. He was about to bring that up to Ahdee?khee, but the look on his face made Collins pause.

?You all right?? he asked.

Ahdee?khee said nothing for a while. He looked slowly around the runway, eyes roaming the clear sky.

?Yeah,? he said finally. ?Everything?s... all right now. Let?s-- let?s just get in the air.?

?Lead the way.?

***

*Years ago - 30,000 Feet Above Sea Level*

The flight back was almost completely silent. What little banter the three of them had managed to keep up on the way there was gone now, mostly because of Bernard?s sulking attitude. Collins had managed to make his concerns known to both Bernard and Ahdee?khee, but the both of them seemed almost more focused on their rivalry than on the situation at hand.

Of course, that?s how it usually was. He was the worrier. Ahdee?khee was the the doer. And Bernard, well he wasn?t much of anything.

Collins sighed and glanced at his radar screen, checking for any signs of trouble. He was never able to just fly. Not in a fighter, anyway. When he was in the cockpit, it meant he was constantly checking his instruments. His instructors used to say he thought too much. That he nitpicked every little detail. They were right, but that didn?t mean he was going to stop. He might miss something.

Blip.

Something like that: an unidentified target on the radar. An unidentified target that didn?t respond with proper IFF transponder signals. An unidentified target that was moving in tandem with them.

Collins did a quick visual glance of the skies around them, noting the positions of his wingmen. It was a stupid response, because the blip on the radar was too far out for a visual confirmation. He cleared his throat and thumbed his comms.

?Venom five-zero-five to Venom five-zero-four,? he said, using Ahdee?khee?s callsign for the mission. It never occurred to him to alert Bernard directly. Let him hear it over the channel. ?Over.?

?Venom five-zero-four, roger, over.?

?Yeah, zero-four, I have long range radar picking up an unidentified aircraft bearing one-eight-niner and closing at seven-hundred knots.?

Ahdee?khee?s voice came back swiftly. ?Hmmm. Unidentified? So you?re not able to raise them on IFF??

?Negative.?

?Hmm, all right,? Ahdee?khee replied. There was a brief squawk as he switched channels and began hailing SEFFPAC to alert them of the situation. As he did, Collins and Bernard both pulled into a defensive formation. Whatever problems they?d been having, this wasn?t something to be dealt with cavalierly. A brief conversation with SEFFPAC revealed no known craft the area, as well as the permission to investigate the unidentified signal.

The three fighters banked as one, and in moments they were on an intercept course that would take them directly alongside the target. Collins kept a steady grip on the stick as he watched the blip slowly approach them. It was moving in a steady line directly along the path they had previously been flying. That, he knew, could not be a coincidence. It continued along that line until...

Bernard?s voice came over the radio. He sounded deadly calm. ?Target is changing course and increasing speed.?

And it was. It moved with the kind of abrupt speed that could not be matched by conventional aircraft. Collins pressed his lips tightly together and inhaled sharply through his nose, then quickly glanced over all of his instrumentation. Whatever this thing was, it was not going to be a fighter. He looked up. They should be in visual range any second now.

Suddenly Ahdee?khee?s voice broke in over the radio. ?Wing! Evasive action! Break formation! Tango is on collision course!?

Collins immediately slammed his flightstick to one side, slicing through the air in a barrel roll as something sleek and silver shot past them with more speed than a bullet. He grit his teeth as the collision alarm sounded, but there was no telltale reverberation to suggest he?d actually been hit. Looking around frantically, he could see a bright flash of light, followed by a short-lived fireball above him to starboard. Once it had dissipated, he could see one of what remained of the aircraft it had once been.

?Mayday!? Bernard?s voice screamed over the radio. ?Mayday! This is Venom five-zero-three! I?ve been hit! I repeat, this is Venom five-zero-three, I?ve been hit!?

Collins muttered a curse to himself and swiveled his head around. Whatever the thing was that had sheared a wing off of Bernard?s fighter, he couldn?t make a visual confirmation.

?C?mon,? he said in a quiet voice. ?Where are you??

?Ejecting! Ejecting!?

A puff of white seemed to explode out of Bernard?s cockpit as the canopy was blasted away. An instant later his ejection seat rocketed up into the sky, propelling itself and its occupant away from the doomed fighter.

?Goddammit, where the hell are you?? Collins said again. There was still no sign of the thing. He checked his radar again and smoothly adjusted his heading to try and catch it. As he did, Ahdee?khee?s fighter moved into position on his wing. They were both tracking the bastard, and as soon as they got permission...

?Venom five-zero-four this is SEFFPAC, your wing is authorized for batteries release.?

?Roger SEFFPAC,? Ahdee?khee said. His voice was calm, but there was iron in it. ?Moving to engage.?

?You bet your ass we are,? Collins muttered to himself. Then, thumbing his radio he added, ?I?ve got the tango on guns.?

It looked like nothing more than a silver streak in the sky, but he could see it, and that should mean he could hit it. He flipped up the gun?s safety and then gently placed his index finger over the trigger. It took him half a second to line up his shot and let his Vulcan cannon spew the kind of gunfire that could chew threw steel.

?I can?t tell if I?m hitting him!? he admitted angrily a few seconds later. ?It?s just so friggin? small!?

He continued to fire in short, controlled bursts, doing his best to keep up with the impossible weaving motions of the target. It might be avoiding the gunfire, but it was also slowing down. Collins blinked as the silver streak came into view.

?Glenn,? he whispered into the comm. ?You see that??

?It?s a...person??

?Or something,? Collins breathed. It looked like a man. A man made of pure silver. Was it some kind of personal anti-grav and propulsion suit? Was it a robot? An alien? A mutant?

?Whatever the hell it is,? Ahdee?khee said, breaking Collins out of his distracted thoughts. ?It?s friggin? dangerous. Are you able to see if you?re making any contact at all on guns??

?I can?t tell. If I am, it?s not affecting him.?

Not physically at least. Collins squinted as he tried to get a clear look at the hostile. The damn thing looked like it was turning its head to look back at its pursuers. Collins got the feeling that it was trying to decide whether or not to engage.

Ahdee?khee?s voice came over the radio once more. He spoke in a low tone, almost as if he were distracted. Collins knew that tone. It meant that this thing, this whatever-it-was, it had Glenn?s full attention. Bad news for the hostile. Good news for them.

?I?m going to take a shot with missiles,? he said. He was talking to himself more than he was announcing it to Collins. ?It?s gotta have...Yeah. It?s got a heat signature.?

So damn calm. It was like he was talking about the weather. Collins fought the urge to give a triumphant little grin. Time to teach this thing just who it was messing with.

Collins ignited his afterburners without a word. His aircraft blasted forward, making him grunt with the increased g-forces as he was pushed back into his seat. In the blink of an eye he was ahead of the hostile and banking hard to port.

Come on, he thought. I?m wide open. Hit me.

It took the bait, and it took it fast. Collins had to roll into an evasive maneuver faster than he expected as the silver man careened towards him on a direct intercept course.

Damn thing was fast.

Not as fast as a sidewinder though. With the hostile coming straight down his tailpipe, Glenn was in position for a picture perfect missile lock.

?Venom five-zero-four,? Ahdee?khee called over the radio. It was music to Collins? ears. ?Fox one!?

He didn?t see the missile. As soon as Ahdee?khee announced the launch, Collins slammed into a hard roll, maneuvering away from the hostile much more effectively than with his previous feint. For those few seconds, Collins thought about nothing else except getting clear from the hostile, ASAP.

Then he felt the explosion. It rumbled through the cockpit, and for a split-second he thought he was the one who was going to be hit. But as he turned his head frantically from side to side, he caught a visual of the tail-end of a sidewinder missile explosion. There was nothing on radar.

?Splashed one bogey,? Ahdee?khee said. ?Target destroyed.?


***

*Years ago - Nevada Desert*

He was glad to be out of the fighter once they had landed on the deserted highway. It wasn?t that he didn?t like flying. He loved flying. It was just that these old fighter jets couldn?t perform the way he wanted them for perform. Fact of the matter was, not even Starfleet seemed to have the kind of craft he wanted, but at least their stuff could pull double-digit g-maneuvers without turning the pilot to paste.

Definitely had to see about smuggling a Starfleet inertial dampener system, see if he could hook it up to one of these S.E.F.F. fighters. Maybe if he had some time he could work on modifying the intake valves on the thing too. And if he amped up the dampener?s subspace bubble he could probably over compensate the field, giving him insane maneuverability. Better than a starship. Better than a jet fighter. Better even then those bulky starfighters that were left over from the Neosapien war.

No, what he had in mind was something altogether different. It could work, assuming it didn?t liquefy the entire craft upon takeoff.

?You seem distracted,? Ahdee?khee said to him as the two made their way across the desert, straight towards Bernard?s landing site. ?Getting shook up by one little bogey now??

?Nah,? Collins said, a half-grin coming to his face. ?Just wondering how much longer I had to dangle him in front of your face before you were going to decide to shoot him.?

Ahdee?khee chuckled. ?Well, I figured you must be lonely, seein? as how you seemed so interested in dancing with the thing.?

?Hey, that?s not dancing, that right there was a lesson in how to fly in an evasive combat situation, my friend.?

?Bah,? Ahdee?khee said good-naturedly. ?I?d have shot you down in two seconds if you pulled that hot-dog s*** with me.?

?You could try, but as soon as you took the shot: Wham! I?d be somewhere else.?

?Except I?d have already taken the shot before you thought I was taking the shot,? Ahdee?khee said sagely. ?And who would be laughing then??

?Me,? Collins announced, gesturing to his chest with his thumb. ?Because you would be falling out of the sky.?

Ahdee?khee shook his head ruefully and then gave Collins a sideways look. ?One of these days, I?m gonna beat you.?

?Yeah?? Collins said, grin widening. ?Well someday I?m gonna beat you.?

They both chuckled while squinting out into the haze of the desert, searching for a sign of Bernard. Neither had said anything about it, but they had both silently agreed that they wouldn?t talk about the possibility of Bernard being seriously hurt.

?You know,? Collins said after a minute. ?We still hold the Academy record for most draws in combat simulations.?

?Next time we?re in San Fran we?re heading over there,? Ahdee?khee said offhandedly. ?I?ll mop the floor with you and take my top ranking.?

?You mean my top ranking?? Collins asked, tone friendly but teasing. ?It?s nice to have dreams and all, but don?t you think you should try for something a little more likely??

?What?s it like on your planet?? Ahdee?khee asked. ?Do they have unicorns and leprechauns there??

Collins laughed and was about to make his comeback when he spotted movement ahead of them. He paused and squinted. ?You see that??

?Yeah,? Ahdee?khee said. He waved both arms back and forth over his head, and the figure in the distance responded in kind. ?It?s him.?

?I?m not sure if I should be relieved or not.?

?You and me both.?

Bernard was looking better than Collins could have expected. He seemed hardly injured at all, although his flightsuit was torn in a few places. Even more surprising, however, was the look on his face. Collins had expected anger or disappointment. Instead, Bernard looked to be taking the whole situation in stride. Hell, the guy looked almost pleased. It was...suspicious.

?You all right?? Collins asked once they were close enough, voice pitching upwards slightly to indicate his skepticism.

?A little banged up,? Bernard replied. ?But I?ll be all right. Didja get ?em??

?Yeah, I got ?em,? Ahdee?khee said. ?We?ve got a helo in bound to pick you up, but we wanted to give you a hand.?

Bernard snorted. ?Yeah, more like you were ordered to.?

The three of them turned back the way Ahdee?khee and Collins had come and started to make their way back to the planes. Any hope that Bernard would make the trip with them in silence was shattered in less than a minute.

?So,? he said, a hard edge coming to his voice. ?Ya let them get me, huh??

?We didn?t let him get you,? Collins said. ?That could have been any one of us.?

?Yeah, well Ahdee?khee had to show me up by taking him out.?

?I wasn?t showing you up,? Ahdee?khee said through gritted teeth. ?I downed him, and that?s all that matters.?

Bernard looked like he wanted to argue, but instead gave a little grumble of agreement. After a few more moments he finally said, ?What the hell was that thing, anyway??

?Well it looked...?

A silver streak careened overhead and plowed into the ground just a few meters ahead of them. Sand kicked up all around whatever had hit the ground, and for a moment it was impossible to make out what it was. Then, as the sand settled, it became clear.

Standing in the center of a shallow crater was a large silver figure. It was humanoid, but it was impossible to tell if it was someone in a suit of armor, or if the thing was just made of metal. It had a face, but the eyes appeared to be entirely electronic in origin. That wasn?t Collins? immediate concern. The most important thing, the thing that screamed in his head, was that the silver skin of the seven-or-eight-foot-tall monstrosity was accented by sharp edges. This thing was built for combat.

?...Just like that,? Ahdee?khee finished.

The silver thing cocked its head slightly and looked at Ahdee?khee. As it did, glowing yellow light seemed to ooze from its hands like plasma. The energy crackled and sparked as the silver thing stared motionlessly at them.

?What do you want from us?? Ahdee?khee asked, making no sudden movements.

The thing said nothing. It simply stared back at them, the glowing yellow energy continuing to emanate from its hands. Five seconds went by. Ten. Collins felt his patience wearing thin.

?Look,? he finally said, breaking the uneasy silence. ?We?re not taking you to our leader. So either spit it out right now, or you let us go on our merry way.?

The head twitched ever-so-slightly. Collins felt a momentary surge of triumph at getting a response out of the thing, but that moment was short-lived. The robot leaped at him, moving with a speed that belied its towering presence. Collins dove to his left in an attempt to get away from the thing, but he was struck hard in the shoulder and went sprawling across the sand.

?Ah crap,? he muttered to himself as he spat out sand and rolled his shoulder. It popped loudly and he had to grit his teeth as he felt his tendons slowly pulling themselves back together. The sharp crack of semi-automatic gunfire caught his attention and he looked up to see Bernard and Ahdee?khee firing their standard S.E.F.F. issue .45 caliber sidearms at the robot.

Slightly dazed, Collins could do little more than follow suit. It was hard to think. He?d deflected some of the blow, but it had still hit him hard enough to jostle his brain around a little. If it weren?t for Bernard and Ahdee?khee?s responses, he might have simply remained there, sprawled out on the sand until he could think properly again.

Instead, he rose to his knees, and drew out his pistol as well, mirroring the actions of his wingmen. He ignored the feeling of warm blood soaking against his flightsuit, flipped the safety off, and began squeezing off carefully aimed rounds directly at the robot?s chest.

The bullets appeared to be having no damaging effect on the robot, but it was at least keeping it at bay as it held its arms up and deflected the shots. Lacking his right arm to steady his aim, Collins? shots were the least effective, but he forced himself to take careful aim. He had to make sure these shots counted.

Ahdee?khee was the first to empty. Every one of his shots had struck the target squarely in the chest, but it didn?t seem to matter. He expertly retrieved a fresh magazine while ejecting the first, then slammed it into his gun and primed the weapon. Taking careful aim, he called out to the others, ?The jets! Get to the jets! I?ll keep ?im busy!?

Bernard stopped firing and whirled on the spot, sprinting towards the highway. Collins, watched him go while he, Collins, took several slow steps backwards, still squeezing off one careful shot every second or so, left arm held straight out. His right arm hung limply at his side.

?Glenn!? Collins shouted as he squeezed off another round. ?I?m not gonna leave you alone with this thing!?

Ahdee?khee was already out again, but as before, he had reloaded in the blink of an eye. Collins only had a few more shots left himself, and he would not be able to reload until he could move his arm properly. He grit his teeth angrily, trying to will his healing factor to work faster. Work harder.

It had never been reliable. Sometimes he healed barely faster than the average man. Sometimes he could heal a gunshot wound in less than a minute. Sometimes he lingered in pain for days, sometimes it was over in seconds. If there was any time he needed it to be seconds, today was that day.

His arm hung limply at his side.

?You?re not!? Ahdee?khee barked as he began to unload more bullets into the robot. ?Take this thing out with a sidewinder the second you have a shot!?

Collins already knew that. The second his best friend had yelled about running to the fighters, he?d known what he?d had planned. That was what had made them such effective wingmen in the Academy simulation tournaments. They didn?t have to tell each other the plan, they just always seemed to know what the other was setting up. It was the reason why there was no number one ranked combat pilot at Starfleet Academy, only two number two ranked pilots. The same talent that made them perfect combat partners made them each the other?s most formidable rival.

The problem wasn?t whether or not Collins understood Ahdee?khee?s plan. The problem was whether or not Ahdee?khee could survive long enough to enact it.

If things had gone differently, if Collins? arm could heal faster, then it would be him who would stay. The robot thing had some kind of energy powering it, and Collins might be able to siphon off some of it in order to fight the thing. With his arm half dead, that was not going to be a good idea. The last time he?d tried to absorb energy while seriously injured, he?d nearly given himself a stroke.

No. It had to be Ahdee?khee. It could have been Bernard, but he was already gone.

Collins fired his last few shots into the robot?s chest. With one final look at Ahdee?khee, he reluctantly made his retreat.

He just hoped he was fast enough.

*Years ago - Undisclosed Location, Monitor Room 1A*


Doctor Cornelius smiled wanly to himself as he looked at the monitor. The feed for the WOLVINATOR subject was proceeding exactly as planned. If anything, the subject was exceeding his expectations in how quickly his body was adapting to the Adamantium. Yes, they had certainly made the right decision with this one. He would be the perfect weapon to use against Wolverine.

He was less certain about the other two projects: SABERWULF and the SPOR-man. All three of the projects had been tailored to the individual strengths of the subjects. The SABERWULF project was to be designed with a similar goal to that of the WOLVINATOR project, namely the capture and/or killing of the rogue Weapon X subject, Sabertooth. Of the three projects, it was the least important. SABERWULF was more of a personal goal of Cornelius?, and not one that he would worry on too much if it didn?t work.

That was why he had chosen Corporal Collins to be the SABERWULF subject. The man?s poor excuse for a healing factor meant he would not waste him on the more important WOLVINATOR project, and certainly not on the SPOR-man project. The latter project was the future of the entire program. No, he had decided very early on that Corporal Bernard would be the best candidate for that project, and he had been confident in that decision up until twelve hours ago.

Twelve hours earlier, Doctor Cornelius had viewed the video logs from the almost completely decimated SHIVA retrieval robot that had been so instrumental in bringing him his three candidates. There had been nothing in any of the briefings to suggest that Corporal Collins was anywhere near capable of holding his own against a SHIVA, let alone completely obliterating it.

His healing factor appeared to have spiked tremendously during the course of the battle, and he had exhibited what could only be construed as superhuman strength.

It had made him rethink the entire program. If Collins could exhibit that level of potential before any augmentation, perhaps he was a better candidate for SPOR than was previously thought.

It was a gamble, but he?d decided to take it, switching the two subjects at the last moment. Bernard would be relegated to the SABERWULF project, receiving minimal upgrades and augmentations. They would need to alter the programs on the fly, particularly the more detailed SPOR project, but he had no doubt they could succeed. If he could harness the kind of destructive power that Collins had exhibited, combined with the incredible durability of an Adamantium-augmented individual with a healing factor, he might well be the greatest triumph of the Weapon XII project, and would ensure all the funding Cornelius could ever dream of.

The door slid open. Cornelius glanced to the newcomer, a nervous young man with thick glasses and a white labcoat that had more than a few coffee stains on it. The man pushed his glasses up his nose as he stared at a clipboard. ?Uh, D-doctor, I have the status reports.?

?And??

?The WOLVINATOR subject is proceeding according to plans. The Adamantium feed was successful, and bonding has been completed. His claws are already manifesting, and mental reconditioning has been initiated.?

Cornelius grinned triumphantly. Two down, and the most important two at that. All that was left now was the SABERWULF project. In truth, it would be rather anti-climactic compared to the SPOR and WOLVINATOR projects.

?Excellent,? he said, looking back up to the monitors. The WOLVINATOR subject?s vital signs seemed clear and strong, proving the excellent nature of his healing factor.

?Um, t-there?s more, sir.?

?More? What more? We haven?t started Saberwulf yet.?

?I-It?s Spor, sir. There?s a complication.?

Cornelius rounded on the man, eyes narrowing in anger. ?What complication? I was told his feed was completed hours ago.?

?W-we thought it was, sir. But, i-it, um, there was a b-bit of a c-c-c--?

?Complication,? Cornelius spat. ?Yes. What is it??

?It?s the Adamantium, sir. It?s cooling too much before it can fully bond with his bones. His body keeps rejecting it. I-I?ve never seen anything like it. His healing factor jumps far above his baseline indicators and he winds up physically rejecting the Adamantium before it finishes the bonding.?

?That?s impossible,? Cornelius said. ?Those calculations are perfect. We accounted for every variable. There?s nothing to cause the molten Adamantium to cool.?

The young man looked everywhere but at Cornelius? eyes. ?W-we have a theory, Doctor.?

?Well??

The young man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before glancing down at his clipboard. ?Y-you?ve seen the surveillance videos of his fight with the SHIVA robot??

?Of course I have,? Cornelius snapped. ?Why do you think we put Collins into the SPOR project in the first place??

?W-well, I?ve been studying them carefully, sir. It appears to me that not only is Corporal Collins expelling some form of explosive energy, but we have reason to believe that he actually, um, absorbed the bleedoff from the SHIVA?s mini-reactor core.?

Cornelius felt realization wash over him. ?He absorbed it??

?I think so, sir.?

?Think so, or know so??

?I-I?m not sure, sir.?

?Well be sure!? Cornelius snarled. ?Take Corporal Collins and strap him into a circuit. Find out how much energy he can absorb, what kinds of energy, and how quickly he can do it. We need to determine how much thermal energy he?s absorbing from the Adamantium, then we can calculate the necessary increase in temperature we?ll need in order to properly bond it to his bones.?

?Sir,? the young man said. ?There?s another problem. We?ve attempted three bonding processes on Collins so far, and each of them failed. Our Adamantium supply is, um...?

Cornelius grit his teeth. ?How much do we have left??

?Enough for one more attempt. I-if I could make a suggestion, I think we should abandon the SPOR project and begin Bernard?s SABERWULF enhancements. The chances of success would be much higher.?

?No,? Cornelius said. ?No, we won?t be doing that. The SPOR project is too important to our future endeavors, and we?ve already performed the pre-bonding surgeries and enhancements on Collins. How soon before we can requisition more Adamantium??

?Months, sir. Maybe years. You know how difficult it is to acquire.?

?Then Bernard will have to wait. Start testing Collins? absorption ability. If he?s to be the SPOR-man, then we?ll need a full understanding of his capabilities anyway. Once we know what he can do, down to the last hundredth of a joule, we?ll finish his bonding. No more mistakes, understood??

?Y-yes, sir.?

Cornelius sighed and steepled his fingers as he stared up at the monitor. The WOLVINATOR bonding was proceeding perfectly. That much was good news. His eyes shifted to a different monitor, this one displaying the former Corporal Glenn Ahdee?khee, soon to be the tailor-made assassin, WOLVINATOR. The man -- the weapon -- was twisting and writhing in the chamber, fully conscious during his bonding process. No doubt the feeling of liquid hot metal seeping into his body and coating his bones was an exceedingly painful one. Luckily for him, he would never remember this hellish experience.

?Make sure the restraints on WOLVINATOR are holding,? Cornelius said. ?We don?t want a repeat of Weapon X. We can begin the memory erasure and implantation while Collins is under testing. I want something to show our backers by the end of the month. If it can?t be SPOR, then WOLVINATOR will suffice.?

?And SABERWULF?? the young man asked.

Cornelius shrugged. ?That can wait. If Bernard causes any trouble, we?ll fit him with the pre-bonding enhancements. At least that way he?ll be in surgery so often that he?ll be unconscious more often than not, and I won?t have to listen to his idiotic prattling.?

?Yes, sir.?

Looking back to the monitor, Cornelius nodded to himself. His gamble on the SPOR project had just become more of a long shot, but it was one that he had to take. If this worked, if they could harness the destructive power and regenerative capabilities that Collins had shown, however briefly, then he might soon have the perfect template for what would someday be the strongest military force in the world.

?Dismissed,? Cornelius said, not bothering to look back at the man. ?And keep me informed.?

?Yes, sir.?

***

*Years ago - Undisclosed Location, Holding Cell*

They thought he was stupid. They thought he was just a dumb fighter jock. They thought he was an animal. They pretended that they didn?t despise him; they pretended that they respected him, but he knew the truth. To them, he was a laboratory rat.

He had been forced to live in this small, windowless room for almost two days now. He had a handful of books, a bed, a toilet, and a computer with a very restricted access. They brought him food three times a day, but the door was locked at all times, as if he might somehow try to escape.

Escape. It was ridiculous. This was what he wanted. This was what he deserved.

It had taken Wesley less than four hours to break the encryption codes on the computer they had given him, and he had spent the last two days reading everything he could about the Weapon XII projects. He was more convinced than ever that this was where he belonged. This was where he would gain strength beyond reckoning.

This was to be the beginning of his legend.

Because even though these people thought of him as a lab rat, they had still recognized his superiority. He was the true embodiment of Homo Superior. With his superhuman strength and unparalleled healing factor, he was the ideal candidate for the next generation of super soldier.

No. Not super soldier. Weapon XII was moving beyond soldiers. He wasn?t going to be some grunt on a battlefield. He was going to be something more. He was going to be the first ever one-man police force. He was going to be the first ever one-man army. He was going to be the template for what strength truly was.

Wesley?s eyes traced over the words on the screen for the thousandth time. He had read the report over and over again, each time relishing the potential of what he would be.

The Soldier, Police, and Operational Reconnaissance Man. The SPOR-Man. That was going to be him. He was going to be the next generation of soldier, policeman, assassin, spy, warrior, and infiltrator. One man for any problem. One man with the strength to survive where others could not. One man who would always get the job done.

Why would he ever try to escape? It had been his cunning and quick wits that had tricked Ahdee?khee and Collins into the project in the first place. It had been his understanding of what the future should be that had led him here. He was that future. He was the SPOR-man.

Or he would be, soon enough. Just as soon as they were done testing the bonding process on those two gimps, Collins and Ahdee?khee. He had read their files too. They were going to get exactly what they deserved. They wouldn?t be soldiers. They wouldn?t be a one-man police force. They wouldn?t be spies or infiltrators. They would be assassins with but a single target.

It made him grin just to think about perfect little soldier-boy Ahdee?khee being turned into the mindless killer outlined in the WOLVINATOR project. His only job, his only purpose, his only reason for existing would be to kill the failed experiment they called Wolverine. God, he wanted to be there when Ahdee?khee completed his mission and Weapon XII flicked his kill-switch. The arrogant bastard deserved nothing else.

And Collins. That was even better. That twitchy f*ck wasn?t even going to get the full treatment. The SABERWULF project was similar to the WOLVINATOR project, only it was obvious that nobody really cared about its success or failure. If Collins survived the bonding process, then he?d be turned into a second assassin, this one designed for the sole purpose of killing a different failed experiment: Sabertooth.

Just for fun, and because he?d already read the SPOR-man project files a thousand times, Bernard called up the SABERWULF project files instead. He felt a grin spread onto his face as he read about the meager little enhancements they would surgically and genetically install into Collins? body. It was nothing compared to the WOLVINATOR project, and compared to the SPOR-man project, it was a goddamn joke.

Part of him wished that the two of them would still have their minds intact when this was all over. Bernard wanted to stand in front of the two of them, power and strength flowing through every aspect of his body, and show them once and for all that he was the best of them. Xavier?s two little prot?g?s couldn?t hold a candle to the power he would have.

Wesley leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair that was bolted to the floor in front of the computer terminal. His fingers moved easily over the keyboard as he brought up the restricted real-time monitoring for current experimentations. The image of Ahdee?khee opened on the screen. He was floating in a large clear cylinder, a red-visored helmet covering his head. He was thrashing and twitching. His newly implanted claws were extending and retracting every few seconds. Every so often he lashed out, apparently in an attempt to slash his way free, but he was trapped in the center of the cylinder and even his claws could not reach the edge.

Ahdee?khee?s various vital signs were on display below the image. Heart-rate, brain activity, blood pressure, white cell count, oxygen level, even a numerical representation of his accelerated healing factor. Bernard found himself growling slightly as he stared at the numbers. They were slowly ticking upwards. It seemed like the genetic treatments had worked. Ahdee?khee?s healing factor was now much stronger than his own.

He clenched his jaw and reminded himself that it was temporary. He was going to get so much more than just a genetic enhancement of his healing factor. He was going to get the entire X-factor re-sequencing of the SPOR-man project. It wouldn?t just be his healing factor that got stronger. His supernatural strength, his intelligence, everything about him would be greater. Better.

Better than Ahdee?khee.

Calming himself, Wesley tapped a few keys, switching the monitoring to the other current project. Collins? image replaced Ahdee?khee?s. He wasn?t floating in a cylinder, but was instead strapped to a metal table. Electrodes had been fixed to key points on his body, with several connected directly to his recently shaved head. Like Ahdee?khee, he was twitching and thrashing, although much more violently. His entire body seemed to be straining against the thick metal restraints that held him to the table. His eyes were darting around wildly, and they were wide and nearly bugging out of his skull. There was no sound for Bernard, but it was clear that Collins was screaming.

That cheered him up. Part of him wished he could have seen this part of Ahdee?khee?s treatment, but he hadn?t broken into the system in time to witness it. He was happy to settle for Collins though. If he closed his eyes, he thought he could almost hear the screaming.

Bernard sat in silence for a few moments, dreaming about when they would come for him. There would be pain. He knew that. But it would be worth it. He wouldn?t scream and fight like these two pussies. He was going to embrace it. He was going to seize it!

His eyes slid open, and he looked down to the vital signs below Collins? image. It was all very similar to Ahdee?khee?s, although Bernard noted with smug satisfaction that Collins? healing factor representation was pathetically small compared to his own.

He frowned then, noticing a new field right next to the healing factor monitor. It read: ?Joules Absorbed? and was currently at 15.3 megajoules.

?What the hell does that mean?? Bernard whispered to himself, leaning forward to stare at the monitor. The number was slowly ticking upwards. 15.4, 15.6, 15.9, 16.3...

Something red flashed on the screen. Bernard looked over to see Collins? heart-rate shooting up rapidly. His blood pressure was skyrocketing as well, and his brain activity was approaching dangerous levels of heat. Red warning lights were flashing in almost all of the monitor fields. Bernard felt a tiny thrill of excitement as he realized he might be witnessing the moment where Collins died on the table.

The red warning lights continued for two more seconds before they suddenly shut off. Collins? heart-rate returned to acceptable levels. His oxygen levels remained slightly elevated, but his blood pressure lowered. His brain activity had lowered as well, although there were odd spikes that would flash into the yellow zones of barely-acceptable levels every few moments.

It took him a few seconds to figure out what had happened. Aside from the energy monitor, it was the only one of the vital signs that had not flashed into red.

Collins? healing factor had just tripled. Bernard stared at the number for a long moment, unable to believe it. It was still far below him or Ahdee?khee, but it was higher than it had been.

And then it dropped. Just like that, and it was down so low that it was hardly a healing factor at all. Three more seconds went by before it spiked up again, this time so high that it was several orders of magnitude higher than Bernard?s own level, but within another heartbeat it was back down to pathetic levels. It stayed that way, fluctuating by less than a tenth every few seconds.

?What the f*ck??

That didn?t make any sense. Bernard had read up on the treatments, and none of them were getting the healing factor enhancements until after the bonding process. The Adamantium bond would help trigger an overreaction on the parts of their healing factors, assisting in the genetic manipulation that would make them heal even more quickly than usual.

But Collins wasn?t bonded yet. Bernard quickly checked the updated project notes. It was true. Collins didn?t have the Adamantium bond yet. They had tried to bond him, and he?d failed.

?Subject?s energy absorption capabilities may have led to a premature cooling of the liquid Adamantium,? he read to himself, not realizing he was muttering the words aloud as he did so. ?Combined with subject?s naturally erratic healing factor, Project Head has ordered further testing of subject for eventual participation in the SPOR-Man project.?

Bernard?s blood went cold. His throat tightened and he quickly scrolled up on the page. He had missed it when first looking at Collins? monitor status. There, on the top of the page, were the letters S.P.O.R.

?No,? Bernard said. ?Hell no.?

His fingers stumbled over the keys as he quickly pulled up his own file. His eyes scanned over the familiar reports that had classified him as the perfect candidate for the SPOR project. He was breathing heavily by then, a low growl echoing in his throat as he went to the end of the report. There were new entries since the last time he?d read it, which had only been a few hours ago.

14:33: Due to the unexpected viability of candidate Collins (File: XII-1006), candidate Bernard has been downgraded to SABERWULF subject. Procedures will begin once SPOR project is completed on candidate Collins.

16:26: Complications in the bonding process for the SPOR candidate (File: XII-1008) has depleted our Adamantium reserves, necessitating the indefinite postponement of Adamantium bonding for candidate Bernard. The remainder of the planned SABERWULF upgrades will be administered to Candidate Bernard at 18:00 hours, sans Adamantium bond.

?No!? Bernard roared, rising to his feet as he grabbed the monitor. He threw it angrily against the wall where it shattered into dozens of pieces. He grabbed onto the back of the chair with both hands. His muscles bulged and he bellowed in mindless rage as he tore the chair free of its bolts. The sound of screeching metal was drowned out by his animalistic roar.

?It?s mine!?

He swung the chair against the heavy metal door. It clanged against it loudly, but even with his strength there was only a tiny dent in the door?s reinforced surface. He snarled at it and slammed the chair into again. ?Cornelius! It?s mine! It?s mine!?

Over and over again he slammed the chair against the door. The dent began to grow even as the sturdy metal chair was being twisted and mangled into slag. Bernard?s hands were bleeding and he was drenched in sweat as he bashed the chair against the door over and over again. He would kill them. He would kill each and every one of them. They didn?t know who he was. They didn?t know how strong he was. They didn?t know how smart he was. They didn?t know that he was superior. He would show them. He would show them!

?CORNELIUS! IT?S MINE!?

Wesley Bernard never heard the slight hiss coming from the vents in the ceiling. By the time the door was beginning to warp enough that he might be able to squeeze his fingers out and attempt to tear it from its hinges, the room was almost completely saturated with a clear, odorless gas. Most human beings would have fallen into a dreamless sleep within seconds of breathing it in.

Wesley Bernard breathed it in for a good three minutes before he dropped to his knees. The door was bent partway outward by then, and he was straining with all of his might to tear it open. He didn?t notice his vision narrowing, and he didn?t notice his strength fading. The only thing he knew was that he was being cheated out of that which was rightfully his.

?F*ckin? kill you,? he mumbled as his hands dropped to his side. ?Gonna f*ckin? kill you all...?

He collapsed onto his side. His eyes never closed.

***

*Years Ago - Undisclosed Location, Surgical Theater*

He was on his back. His arms, head, and legs were strapped down. There was a mask over his mouth, and a sickly-sweet smelling gas was flowing into his mouth and nose. Bright lights were shining down on him. His head felt heavy, and his thoughts felt slow.

?Wher?mI?? he croaked. His throat was dry. His lips were cracked. He couldn?t think.

No one answered him.

?Is he conscious?? a distant voice asked.

?Does it matter?? another replied.

A blurry image of someone in a surgical mask leaned over him. The surgeon lifted a powered bone saw.

?I guess not,? the surgeon said. ?Start recording.?

?Recording started.?

?This is SABERWULF surgical enhancement procedure number one of a planned eleven operations. As the subject will not be receiving an Adamantium bonding, procedures six, twelve, and thirteen have been eliminated. We will be installing the initial neuro-coatings in this procedure. Estimate time of procedure is two hours.?

Wesley Bernard?s lips moved weakly.

?Gnnakillyooo,? he groaned.

?We?ll begin with a temporary severing of the spinal cord.?

Bernard?s eyes rolled back as he heard the sound of the saw whirring to life. Pain shot through him, and it did not stop.

Saberwulf.

The character of Alystrianna is used with permission.

*Years Ago - Undisclosed Location, Hallway*

Her heels clicked a swift rhythm on the cold linoleum. Her every stride was careful and controlled as she made her way to the secondary monitoring lab. Her hair was tied back into a utilitarian bun, and there was not a single strand out of place. Her face was cold and impassive. With her stark white labcoat over her dark purple-and-black pantsuit, she was the perfect image of a professional scientist.

It was a lie, of course. But then, so much of her life was a lie. The face she wore, the cold and impassive visage, that was a lie. The truth was that she wanted to scream.

She had just killed a man.

Alystrianna Illenia D'Vaustaival came to a halt in the middle of the empty hallway. She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm her breathing. It was happening right now. The Morditol would be working its way swiftly through his veins. She had studied the compound carefully. It would do the job, even on a man with a healing factor.

This wasn?t how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to be helping these men. That?s what Doctor Cornelius had assured her. They were all of them suffering, all of them victims of circumstance. They needed the treatments in order to survive. In order to live.

She believed that. She had to believe that.

Then why had she killed him?

Alystrianna pressed her lips tightly together as she breathed in deeply through her nose. She had to pull herself together. No one must know about what she?d done.

It was happening right now. She knew it. The Morditol would move quickly through his body. Before long, his vital signs would start to fluctuate. Blood pressure would hit redline first, followed by oxygen level. That would trigger the emergency draining of the tank, in preparation for standard resuscitation protocol. He would drop to his knees, crumpling down to the floor. His legs would already be paralyzed by then, the Morditol working swiftly on his extremities. With his arms strapped down, he would be unable to remove the helmet. He would die in the darkness, never knowing what had happened to him.

Never knowing that she had killed him because she could not bear to see anyone suffer like that.

Cornelius had said they were helping these men. He had said that they were volunteers, that they had begged for this assignment. He had said that they would wipe out the memories of their pain, and that they would suffer no long-term effects from the process.

She knew enough about the brain to know that for that the man who was the Spor-Man subject, that could not be true. The testing of his abilities had gone beyond the ability of the memory wiping and reconditioning. That damage was permanent. He would remember it forever.

She?d tried to tell Cornelius. She?d begged him to stop, to let the treatments end. The Spor-Man project was a failure. The subject could not handle the testing that Cornelius insisted was necessary.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The treatments had continued. The screams went on and on and on.

Now the screams would stop. Cornelius would lose his Spor-Man. She had killed him. She had killed a man whose name she did not know and whose face she had never seen. She had killed him because she wasn?t strong enough to watch him suffer any longer.

It was happening right now. She knew it. His lungs would try to collapse, but the hose down his throat would keep that from occurring. His body would convulse, but the restraints would keep it from being violent. His heart would slow. His veins would constrict. The blood flow to his brain would slow. It would stop.

Alystrianna opened her eyes and looked down at her watch. Yes. It was happening right now. He was dying. He was probably already dead.

Steeling herself, Alystrianna took one more deep, cleansing breath, and then continued on towards the monitoring lab. By the time she strode in the door a few seconds later, she was every bit the calm, cool, and confident scientist.

Cornelius was already there when she arrived. He didn?t offer her so much as a grunt as a greeting. He was too busy staring out the viewport and into the next room. In it, the project named WOLVINATOR was hooked up to the VRRC-unit. The Virtual Reality ReConditioning unit would smooth away the awful memories they had subjected him to. He would be reborn.

The WOLVINATOR subject was wearing only a heavy face-concealing helmet and a micro-fiber mesh of sensors. Not for the first time, she felt herself fighting a blush as she examined his almost nude form. WOLVINATOR. Him, she would save. He needed her. She wasn?t sure how she knew, but she knew. He needed her.

?Subject is proceeding ahead of schedule,? Cornelius said. This was the way he usually spoke to her. Never small-talk. Never chit-chat. Always business with him. ?He?s already gone beyond level fourteen. Makes me wonder if I shouldn?t have made him the SPOR-man after all.?

Her stomach tightened at that. She thought of the horrible image of watching WOLVINATOR screaming in utter agony as they subjected him to torture without end. She spoke without thinking, ?I?m glad you didn?t.?

Cornelius looked over his shoulder at her. ?What was that, Doctor??

Her eyes widened slightly and she fought to explain herself. ?I-I just mean that he?s such a perfect candidate for the WOLVINATOR project. I?m glad you didn?t, um, ch-choose him for a different project.?

Cornelius let his eyes linger on her for a long moment. Then he looked slowly down her body, eyes trailing the curve of her form. She fought the urge to shiver in disgust.

?Yes, well. He was the most qualified for this position. Just as you were most qualified for your position, my dear. If WOLVINATOR were the SPOR-man candidate, I would have no need for your services, now would I? Your skills as an assassin would not be nearly so effective against him if his mind were incapable of recognizing your...? he grinned at her, eyes leveling on her chest. ?Charm.?

Alystrianna lowered her eyes. ?You promised you wouldn?t bring that up anymore.?

?I wouldn?t, but you continue to exhibit an unprofessional attachment to these subjects, Doctor. It?s bad enough to have you whining about the SPOR-man. I don?t need you drooling over WOLVINATOR all day as well. Now get to your station. I want a status report on WOLVINATOR?s developmental progress within the hour.?

?Yes, Do--?

An alarm klaxon shrieked over her words. Alystrianna jumped slightly, genuinely surprised at the sound. She had momentarily forgotten what she had done. On the other end of the facility, the SPOR-man was already dead. They wouldn?t be able to hurt him any more.

?What now?? Cornelius muttered. He tore his eyes from Alystrianna and stalked over to an intercom. Depressing the button he barked, ?This is Cornelius. Status report!?

It took several seconds for a response to come across the speaker. ?The SPOR-man, sir! His vital signs are dropping rapidly! He?s been injected with something. Morditol, I think. A massive dose!?

?What? That?s impossible! Who accessed the lab last??

There was a brief pause.

?U-unknown, sir! Records have been wiped clean!?

?Send in a security team! Secure the body and rush him to surgery.?

Cornelius snarled and let go of the intercom. He stood there for a few seconds, chest heaving, vein in his forehead throbbing, and fingers clenched into fists. He was shaking with rage as he slowly turned his head towards Alystrianna.

?Where were you?? he asked, each word slow and deliberate.

?Tertiary monitoring room,? she lied coolly. Inwardly, her stomach felt as if it were going to twist inside out. Outwardly, she revealed nothing. ?I was overseeing SABERWULF?s latest implantation.?

He stared at her eyes. ?There is proof??

?Yes,? she said. And there was. She had been careful to forge it.

Cornelius took a few slow steps towards her. He pointed to the viewing window, and at the man on the other side who was slashing at invisible foes. ?I expect you to be soft when it comes to him. That?s why you?re here. I want you to breathe him in, to know him better than anyone, so that if the time comes and I find it?s necessary for him to be neutralized, then you will be in the perfect position to do so. But if I find out you are interfering with my other projects...If I find out that you ruined my life?s work...If I find out that the SPOR-man project is dead because of YOU!? He roared at her, grabbing her by the collar of her labcoat. ?I will not. Be. Merciful.?

?I have nothing to do with this,? she whispered.

He growled and shove her away. She stumbled back a few paces. It was difficult to fight the urge to attack him. It would be easy.

She needed him, and so she did nothing. Cornelius went back to the intercom and pressed the button. ?Status report. What?s his condition??

Static was the only reply.

?This is Cornelius!? he shouted into the intercom again. ?I want a status report! Is he dead? Is he alive??

He was dead. She knew it. She had killed him.

Behind the viewing window, WOLVINATOR continued to snarl and slash at the air, doing battle with attackers that existed only for him. She watched him as he moved. She watched the way his muscles bulged and contracted, the way his movements were swift and sure, the way his strength was evident in every strike. It felt like watching poetry.

?Goddammit! Someone answer me! What?s going on dow--?

The world exploded.

***

*Years Ago - Undisclosed Location, Darkness*

?Vital signs are negative. Sec-team Beta is moving in. Perimeter is secured.?

Darkness.

?Target is non-responsive. Beta team is moving to secure target.?

Oblivion.

?Everett, get his arms. Johnson, take the legs. I want him trussed up like a turkey before we move him.?

Icy numbness.

?Arm-restraints secured, sir.?

Life.

Spornan gasped as consciousness flooded back into him. His heart thudded powerfully in his chest and his skin buzzed with electricity as he stared wildly around. Warning lights flashed and klaxons blared.

?Commander! Vital signs off the charts! He?s alive!?

Assess the situation.

His eyes darted around as he rolled onto his back. He was nude. His hands were bound behind him. There were twelve men in combat armor standing in a tight circle all around him. Twelve assault rifles were trained on his chest.

Energy and agony burned through him. The ice was gone. Only Spornan remained.

Enemies. Can?t be trusted. They?re out to get me.

They were enemies. He couldn?t trust them. They were out to get him.

The Ultimate Weapon. Doctor Cornelius. The robot. It had all happened. He wasn?t crazy. They were out to get him. He couldn?t trust them. They were enemies.

?Don?t move,? the man directly in front of him said. His grip was steady on his rifle. ?Just stay where you are.?

Spornan stared back at the man. Power and pain flooded through him. He had never felt anything like it. His mind struggled to remain intact in the waves of energy crashing over him. They were out to get him.

Twisting his body slightly, he looked over his shoulder and at the thick manacles cuffing his arms together. He frowned and then looked back at the man who?d spoken.

?T-series duranium prisoner restraints with electronic lock and eighteen digit passkey? These are expensive,? he said. His voice was hoarse, and there was a vague image in his mind of two feet of hose being yanked out of his esophagus.

The man with the assault rifle cocked his head to one side. ?I said don?t move.?

??Course not,? Spornan muttered. He looked everywhere but at the guns. ?Crazy thing to do.?

Twelve Krijer model assault rifles. Belgium made. Fifty round detachable box magazine. Seven-hundred and fifty rounds a minute. Times twelve. Six hundred rounds altogether for a total of one hundred and fifty rounds a second. Blue tape on the magazine. Probably armor piercing. Five hundred milliseconds to charge the leader. Three hundred milliseconds for the average human to react. Figure two hundred for trained soldiers. Thirty rounds before he could take down even the first of twelve. The second would take much longer than five hundred milliseconds. They would spend their cartridges before he got that far. Five hundred and fifty two and a half bullets ripping him to shreds.

?You?d have to be crazy,? Spornan mumbled to himself. ?Crazy to do something like that. Have to be crazy. Have to be--?

It took him one hundred and fifty milliseconds to spring to his feet. It took him fifty milliseconds to charge at the leader. It took him fifty milliseconds to slam the front of his Adamantium-reinforced skull into the nose of the leader. It took fifty milliseconds for him to pivot on one foot. It took him one hundred milliseconds to lash a kick out towards the leader?s Belgium-designed Krijer model K1-X assault rifle. It took two-hundred milliseconds to leap over his own arms, getting his hands out in front of him.

It took the first soldier two hundred and sixty eight point four milliseconds to fire the first shot.

They weren?t men. They were demons, and he was the righteous hand of God.

They weren?t men. They were shadows, and he was the light come to purge them.

They weren?t men. They were aliens, and he was the last hope of humanity.

They weren?t men. They were animals, and he was the hunter who would feast on their flesh.

He wasn?t a man. He was a monster, and he was going to hurt these innocent children.

He wasn?t a man. He was the devil, and he was going to corrupt these righteous men.

He wasn?t a man. He was a robot, programmed to kill and destroy.

He wasn?t a man. He was an animal, evolved to hunt to survive.

He wasn?t a man. He was Spornan. More than.

Bullets ripped across his skull, slicing across his skin like scalpels. Blood streamed into his eyes. Dime-sized holes ripped through the soft flesh of his body, pinging against his invincible bones and ricocheting into vital organs. Bile and toxins flooded into him as his kidneys, stomach, liver, and bladder were torn to shreds. Tendons snapped as his lungs exploded.

Power and pain. Energy and agony. Spornan was more than could be contained.

The K1-X assault rifle was dropping from the air as its owner stumbled backwards, blood streaming from his nose. Eleven others spat hot death at him from every angle. He was screaming. Maybe they were too. Reality ticked away at the speed of light; too slowly for him to think, and too quickly for him to dwell.

He snatched the rifle out of the air. His blood-soaked hands gripped the weapon by the barrel. Bullets pipped and popped into his body as he swung the weapon in a wide arc that connected with the face of the next soldier. Blood and teeth sprayed across the room, and the man?s gurgling scream was lost under the cacophony of gunfire.

His body was fire. Blood evaporated into steam as his body expelled excess heat. His organs slid back into place. His lungs sealed their punctures. The surgical slices across his skull stitched themselves back together. He healed. He healed too quickly.

There was power in him. With every strike against the soldiers, the smell of burning flesh began to fill the chamber. Steam rose from his body. Static electricity buzzed in the air just in front of him. It was his armor. He could feel it. He could see it. He could...

Control it.

Spornan cast his hands out towards the closest soldier. A blue arc of electricity sparked across the distance and exploded with a thunderous reverberation. He pointed to a second, and the lightning came again. He pointed to a third, and this time it was a beam of concentrated plasma. It was easy. There was so much inside of him, and it was so simple to tell it what to do; what to be.

Phased energy erupted from his hand, and a concentrated beam of nadion particles struck another soldier. The red beam seemed to dissipate into the man?s body, spreading through him and causing him to drop dully to the ground.

They were all screaming. He wasn?t. Not anymore. He was laughing. He was crying. Power and pain. Energy and agony. It was too much. It was too wonderful. It was too horrible. It was too everything.

There were more soldiers. Men poured into the room, shouting and screaming and cursing and shooting. More and more bullets thudded into his body, forcing him to use more power and pain to heal the damage. The air was rippling with the heat rolling off of him. The transparent aluminum of the tank began to warp. The soldiers fell back, but maintained a perimeter around him as they fired round after round into him.

Hotter and hotter. Power and pain. Energy and agony.

Something clattered at his feet. He paused from his manipulations of the energy around him and within him to look down at it. It was a green cylinder, roughly six inches long. Concussion grenade.

It exploded at his feet. Power and pain. Energy and agony. It was too much.

Spornan lost control of it. Where before the energy was his to master, now there was too much to hold. He did not have time to scream. Nobody did.

The power exploded out of him. The men firing into his flesh were vaporized. The tank was vaporized. The room was vaporized. The walls beyond the room crumbled into dust. The walls beyond those rooms shattered into pieces. The walls beyond those rooms shook and shuddered and crumbled as the sphere of energy cracked through the entire facility. Metal screamed as it was torn and twisted. Concrete exploded into tiny fragments. Men and women died.

Spornan did not die.

Spornan slept.