(Chapter 1) Project: Taros

Enjoy.

Prologue

Time: 1400

Place: Area 51

The doors to the meeting room opened. A soldier in his army uniform ran in, panting. His eyes were traced with small glints of fear.

He stood at attention. “Sir, Operation Sword Breaker has failed. The squad has disappeared.”

“What?!” The general stood up in a fury and pounded his iron fist on the metal table.

“See? I told you this would happen. Or the more reason we should go ahead with my plan,” said a shadowy figure opposite from the angry general.

“Shut up! The only reason you’re here is because-“

“Because you need me. Your race is too primitive to win against real opponents on your own. So, you brought me in to do all the thinking for you,”

“I said SHUT UP! If it weren’t for us you’d be in prison,”

“True. But that doesn’t mean you don’t still need me,” The figure sat up and into the light. It was a humanoid lizard with tribal tattoos running from his left eye to the tip of his long tail, a huge scar ran down his milky, right eye and to the edge of his jaw, and two enormous scarred and red-inked tribal tattooed horns rose up from his massive head.

The general glared at him. He was right. They did need him. But the general refused to admit it to someone like him.

“What exactly is your plan, Deathhorn?” asked another man from the other end of the long table.

“It’s simple,” said Deathhorn and stood up. “We reopen Project USS,”

Murmurs of surprise cascaded throughout the meeting room.

“That’s insanity, Deathhorn! Especially after what happened last time!” exclaimed a cornel from across the room. A huge scar ran diagonally down his face.

“Ah, but you used humans last time, and that was your biggest mistake. Humans are weak and easily rebell. If my plan is to be successful, we must not make the same mistake twice,”

“What are you suggesting?”

A sinister smile spread across the evil lizard’s scaly face. He had a dark and dangerous look in eyes.

“We use humanoids this time. And not just any humanoids; we use the most powerful among them. Elite humanoids with raw power, humanoids with quick and clever brains, humanoids with unmatched skill,”

“So, your plan is basically reopening your experiments,”

“Not necessarily. But in way, I suppose you could look at it that way, yes,”

“Deathhorn, that’s the whole reason you were arrested. Your experiments went too far. If you think-“

“Now, hold on, I know what you’re thinking. But this time, it could work, because I know the first link to creating the Ultimate Super Soldier,”

“And what would that be?” asked the general, in almost a mocking tone.

“The werehog,”

“A werehog?” asked the cornel across the room with the huge scar.

“Yes, a werehog. The werehog is the apex predator. Its keen sense of smell can track a mouse over ten miles away. It can see and navigate in the dark of night; it can hear a rat’s heart beating a hundred meters away. It can run up to fifty miles an hour; lift up to seven hundred pounds. It is quick and clever; a single werehog can outsmart and kill an entire squad of your men without breaking a sweat or lifting a claw. They can heal and recover from a mortal wound in a matter of days. Not to mention their transformation, and that little extra power boost they get from the moon.”

Deathhorn smiled. “Of course, it depends on what kind of werehog we use,”

“What do you mean what ‘kind’ of werehog we use?”

Deathhorn chuckled. “There are many kinds of werehogs, Commander. Each Pack has its own strengths and characteristics that make it stronger or weaker than other Packs,”

Deathhorn typed in a file name on the touch screen in front of him. The Pack seal appeared on one of the large screened TVs is the wall. Deathhorn got up and stood beside it and everyone in the room turned to look at what Deathhorn had pulled up.

“One example of a type of werehog is a Garnet werehog,”

A picture of a mid-sized red werehog appeared on the screen.

“Garnet werehogs can navigate in rocky terrains and can endure and survive in harsh climates. They are swift and nimble, and can jump at heights of up to ten feet,”

A picture of a cobalt blue female werehog materialized on the screen.

“The Sapphire werehog, their Pack is made up almost entirely females. Sapphires are quick, strong, and tough. They are light on their feet and very clever. These females are built for stealth. They are strong swimmers and agile hunters,”

A picture of a huge dusty blue male werehog appeared on the screen.

“The Lapis Lazuli werehog is quick and ferocious. Their Pack is like a modern day Sparta. They are born and trained for battle. These werehogs can grow up to eight feet in height, and can lift up to nine hundred pounds. A Lapis will not stop fighting until it has either won the battle or until it is killed,”

Pictures of other werehogs flashed on the screen.

“And these are just a few of the many different types of werehogs. The Zircon werehog, Aquamarine, Gold, Cobalt, Sardonyx, Ruby, Peridot, Moonstone, Citrine, Tourmaline, Topaz, Bloodstone, Black Diamond, Emerald, Opal, Turquoise, Alexandrite, Pearl, Amethyst, and Diamond. And these are just the main types of werehogs; there are tens, perhaps hundreds of Packs with thousands of different types werehogs with their own special strengths and abilities.

“But the is one flaw in the Wereians’ design,”

Deathhorn pulled up a diagram of a muscular gray werehog on the screen.

“Silver, when it is combined with that special chemical produced in a Wereian’s tail what the Wereians call ‘moon blood’, creates a chemical reaction to it that makes silver like acid on a Wereian’s skin, making them very vulnerable to it,”

Whispers and murmurs weaved through the air, thinking over and considering everything Deathhorn had just shown them.   

“It will never work, Deathhorn,” criticized the cornel, leaning in his chair and his arms crossed.

Deathhorn smiled and shook his head. “Oh, Cornel. You of all people should know the power a werehog,”

The cornel frowned and touched the scar that ran down his unshaven face. He shook his head and glared at Deathhorn. “It still won’t work. Werehogs hunt in packs,”

“Then we simply create a pack,”

Everyone in the room stared at him. Unable to hide their surprise. Deathhorn smiled darkly.

Stupid humans. They have no idea what they’re up against. Thought Deathhorn before he explained further details of his plan for Project: USS.

 

Taros

Time: 2000

Place: HAC Labs

Project: E-148

It had been nearly a year and a half since Project: USS was reopened. Soon after the Project was reopened, HAC was built, a top secret lab where the experiments for Project: USS were to be conducted. HAC stands for Humanoid Alloy Center, where scientists fuse the Deoxyribonucleic Acid, or DNA, of different types of werehogs with the DNA of the most powerful and skilled animals in the Animal Kingdom.

Dr. Lynx stepped through the mechanical titanium doors.

Inside the lab, a pair of scientists hovered above a control board. Dr. Lynx looked up at the capsule which contained yet another super soldier experiment.

The screen on the control panel beeped, and the scientist on the left, a middle aged woman with dark brown hair, scribbled something on her clipboard.

 “Well, how’s our little experiment going?”

The woman and the scientist next to her, a man in his late thirties with blond hair, jerked their heads towards Dr. Lynx, clearly startled.

“Dr. Lynx! W-we didn’t hear you come in,” stammered the woman.

Dr. Lynx chuckled. “I’m just dropping by to check on your progress,” Dr. Lynx steeped up to the control panel and peered at the screen. Nothing.

            Dr. Lynx sighed. “Nothing new I assume?”

            The woman sighed. “No, I’m afraid not,”

Dr. Lynx sighed heavily. It was the same every time.

“Which one is this?”

“Number E-148,” she replied.

She stepped up to the control panel and typed in a file name. “We’re trying out a new type of werehog this time,” a picture of a male Black Diamond werehog and a female Opal appeared on the screen.

            “Opal and Black Diamond, hm? That’s an interesting combination,” commented Dr. Lynx.

            “The Black Diamond werehog is for the strength battle instinct and the Opal werehog its keen senses and its unique instinct for survival,”

            “Unique? I thought all werehogs had an instinct for survival,”

            “They do. But an Opal’s survival instinct is very unique. You see, it’s not unlike an animal’s instinct for survival, even if it faced with impossible odds it will do whatever it takes to survive. Like a zombie’s urge to feed on human flesh, or a bird’s instinct to fly south for the winter. In fact, back in the early days of the Packs, Opal Wereians were known to eat each other in times when food was scarce,”

            “Ugh!” gagged Dr. Lynx, repulsed by the very thought of cannibalism.

            “Of course, now days, if something like that happens the werehog is sentenced to be torn apart,”

            Dr. Lynx gave her a disgusted look. “Wereians are such savage creatures,” he stared up at the capsule. “This is a waste of time,”

            The blond-haired man stared at Dr. Lynx as if he had just told a joke (which was very rare).

            “But, Dr. Lynx, why would you think this is a waste of time?” the man asked in a naïve sounding voice.

            “Because the Project was a complete failure last time! What makes this time any different? And besides, if a human was dangerous, imagine how much more dangerous a werehog could be! A Black Diamond werehog is at least 70x stronger than a human, fusing its DNA with another powerful animal’s DNA is only going to make it that much more dangerous! What if it turns out like Project: X?”

            “It won’t,” came a dark voice from behind.

            The trio of scientists jerked their heads around to see the familiar dark silhouette of Deathhorn as he stepped into the light. His wrists and ankles weighed down by trackers and restraints, and around his long neck was a thick restraint collar.

            “What do want Deathhorn? What are you doing here? Who gave you clearance?” demanded Dr. Lynx.

            “It’s my project, Dr, Lynx. I gave myself clearance,”

            Dr. Lynx was furious. “It is not your project Deathhorn! You merely suggested it. Now, what do want?”

            “Our little project won’t turn out like Project: X, Dr. Lynx. Project: X used that violence inducing chemical; I believe it was called Serum X, right?”

            A flash of fear skidded across Dr. Lynx’s amber eyes. He shook his head angrily. “How do you know about that, Deathhorn?” seethed Dr. Lynx.

            Deathhorn grinned sinisterly at the doctor. Dr. Lynx could have sworn he saw a glint of insanity spark in his one clear blue eye. “I have my ways. But there is another reason our little experiments won’t turn out like Project: X because the Opal DNA helps to stabilize the Black Diamond DNA,”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “I’m talking about a Black Diamond’s DNA can be very unstable on its own, if it is not used correctly, which I highly doubt you would have,”

            Dr. Lynx glared at Deathhorn, who brushed it off like it was nothing more than a fallen leaf in the autumn.

            “Opal Wereians are generally sweet and good natured, which counter acts the Black Diamond’s more. . . Aggressive nature, thereby neutralizing it down to a minor threat,” he paused for dramatic emphasis. “At least until just the right moment,”

            “How do you know that would work, anyway?”

            “Well for one, we used a lot more Opal DNA than we did Black Diamond,” Deathhorn stepped up to the control panel. “Now, let’s see what progress you’ve made so far,” he said to no one in particular.

            He analyzed the information on the screen for a minute or two. “Well, so far you’ve made overall good progress, but how come you haven’t given it any real life yet?”

            They were all silent for several heartbeats; the dark-haired woman was the first to break the awkward silence.

            “Well, it could become unstable, and quite frankly, we have no idea what could happen if we, um,”

            “Gave it a little more juice,” finished the blond-haired man.

            “Yes, exactly,” she said in almost a panicky voice.

            Deathhorn stared at them as if they had just said something extremely stupid.

            “Well, then, if you’re too much of a hatchling to ‘juice’ it up a bit, I’ll just have to do it myself,”

Deathhorn started typing on the keyboard and then pulled down a lever on his right. The capsule’s humming crescendoed, louder and louder, higher and higher until it sounded like it was on the brink of exploding. Sparks fell down from the ceiling like snow in the winter. The lights on the capsule grew even brighter as the capsule’s humming grew louder.

Dr. Lynx fixed Deathhorn in a death glare. “What have you done?!”

“Finished what you started,” he said plainly.

Sparks began to fly from the control panel, Deathhorn backed away slowly and looked up at the capsule, realizing the damage he had just caused. The capsule’s humming was deafening.

“IT’S GONNA BLOW!” screamed the blond-hair scientist.

The ground began to tremor.

“HIT THE DECK!” yelled Dr. Lynx. Everyone dropped to the floor and the machine exploded with a blinding light and cascade of sparks and shards of glass and metal.

It stopped. It was like someone had pushed the off switch on a remote and silenced the explosion. The scientists looked behind them and gazed at the obliterated capsule. Wires hung from the ceiling with dangling glowing red tips and sparks cascading off the ends.

The blond-haired man sighed. “Well, I think we can consider this one a failure,”

“Look what you’ve done, you over-sized abomination! You destroyed the lab and the capsule!” Dr. Lynx yelled at Deathhorn.

“I thought you said this project was a waste of time, doctor,” answered Deathhorn in a sarcastic innocent voice.

“Why, I otta-“

Before he could finish his sentence, a small whimpering echoed through the air.

It was coming from the capsule.

The trio of scientists and Deathhorn slowly stood up without taking their eyes off the shattered capsule. The whimpering was the only sound in the air.

They cautiously stepped up to the edge of the shattered capsule and peered over the side. In the middle of the broken capsule lay an alabaster newborn werehog puppy with jet black wings. Its big ears were flat against its head and massive wings were folded close to its back and its eyes were sealed shut.

Deathhorn smiled. “I think we can consider this one a success,” said Deathhorn and reached for the squirming puppy with one of his scaly, clawed hands.

Dr. Lynx immediately lashed out with his claws at Deathhorn’s outstretched hand. Deathhorn quickly drew his hand back, cradling it and glaring at Dr. Lynx.

“I think you’ve caused enough trouble,” warned Dr. Lynx and reached for the pup. It mewled in protest at Dr. Lynx’s touch, but quieted down when the doctor cradled him in his arms.

“Well, everyone, it looks like we have our first successful GFW,” announced Dr. Lynx, still staring at the sleeping white werepuppy.

“Yeah, I think we do,”

“What? The lab exploded?”

“Yes, General, but you won’t believe what came out of it,” answered Dr. Lynx. He shifted his arms so the board could see the sleeping alabaster werepuppy in his arms. The board gasped and stared at the tiny puppy.

“How do you know the experiment worked? That looks like an ordinary werepuppy to me,” commented the Cornel.

“Maybe you better look closer, Cornel,” Deathhorn seemed to come out of nowhere, as if he materialized out of thin air. He emerged from the shadows, his ankles were weighed down by shackles and his scaly body was riddled with cuts and bruises.

Deathhorn reached for the pup with an outstretched hand, the puppy began to squirm and whimper in Dr. Lynx’s arms. He grabbed the helpless puppy by the scruff and held it up in the air. He pried the little creature’s wings open and forced it to spread them, the inside of the wings were blood-red. The tiny puppy squealed in protest.

The cornel just stared, speechless.

“Now tell me Cornel, does a normal werehog have bat wings?” Deathhorn smirked. The cornel glared at him and stared at the pup, his face was expressionless but his brown eyes betrayed his worry and a small glint of fear.

            The board was silent for several heartbeats; Deathhorn released the tiny pup’s wings and handed it back to Dr. Lynx. Dr. Lynx snatched it away from Deathhorn and glared at him, then looked down at the pup. It had stopped whimpering and settled down in Dr. Lynx’s arms.

            What does this pup sense? What does he know? Thought Dr. Lynx as the tiny pup fell asleep in his arms.

            “How do we know it’s safe?” asked a commander from across the room.

            “Well for now he’s perfectly harmless. Wereians puppies are near completely helpless until they are at least a year old,” the dark haired woman answered.

            “But what about when it gets older?” asked the cornel without taking his eyes off the tiny puppy.

            It was Deathhorn who answered. “Simple, werehog puppies aren’t too much different than children or dogs. If you train them correctly they turn out just fine. And besides, this pup is 70% Opal, so it should be fairly, sweet in nature,”

            The dark haired woman eyed Deathhorn. That was the most forced sweet she’d ever heard.

            “Fine then. What’s its number?” asked the General.

            “E-148,”

            “Alright then. Take it to Cell Block C,”

            “Cell Block?” asked the dark haired woman in an almost panicked voice.

             “Yes, Cell Block. We don’t know how dangerous this thing really is. I want to keep it under lock and key until we know exactly what we’re dealing with,”

            She stole a long glance at the pup. It was sleeping peacefully in Dr. Lynx’s arms.

            It. No, it is a he, not an it. She thought. That pup deserved better than a stingy old cell. It deserved to run through the woods and chase butterflies, or squirrels, or whatever it was werehog puppies chased. But no, it was condemned to the brutality of the government.

            And a number. The general didn’t ask what they should name it; he asked what its number was. Pups weren’t supposed to have numbers; they were supposed to have names.

“Should we shackle it, sir?” asked a soldier from behind.

Shackle it?! Thought the dark haired woman.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” said the general as he stood up. This man had to be at least six and a half feet tall. “At least not yet,”

 The soldier came up from behind Dr. Lynx and took the alabaster puppy. It whimpered and whined in protest at being ripped from Dr. Lynx’s warm embrace.

“As soon as it opens its eyes I want him fitted for a tracking anklet,” ordered the general as he walked over to the soldier to get a better look at the puppy.

The dark haired woman cleared her throat. “If I may sir, I would like to be the one to care for the pup,”

The general turned towards her. “Do as you like, Dr. White,” he turned to the blond haired man.”Dr. Dibs, do me a huge favor and send a clean-up crew to the lab, will you?”

“Of course, sir,” answered the blond haired man.

The general nodded to Deathhorn. “Escort him to his cell. Just because the experiment was a success, doesn’t mean his actions will go unpunished. He didn’t have clearance or permission to do what he did,”

Three soldiers came up to Deathhorn, one on either side of him and one from behind. His clawed hands were locked in heavy cuffs and two of the soldiers grabbed him by the arms, the third pointed a gun at his bony back.

“You’ll thank me later,” said Deathhorn as the soldiers led him away.

The general scoffed. He hated that over-sized lizard.

He turned to the trio of soldiers who were supposed to be escorting the experiment to his hold.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Chinese New Year? Go!” he commanded, the soldiers quickly filed out of room with the puppy in the middle soldier’s arms. Dr. White followed close behind them.

The puppy whimpered and squirmed in the soldier’s arms, as if it sensed the soldier was taking him somewhere he didn’t want to go.

“Maybe I should hold him,” suggested Dr. White with a hint of desperation in her voice.

“No, ma’am, it’s for your own safety,” answered the soldier in almost mechanical voice.

My own safety? It’s a newborn puppy! Just because it’s a werehog with bat wings doesn’t mean it’s dangerous!

They turned left down a long hallway. At the end was a steel door. One of the soldiers pulled a security card out from his belt and slid it into the slot on the security lock. The light turned green and the door slid open.

The white barren walls were lined with cells that resembled solitary confinement cells, like in Cell Block D, except these cells had electric lights and no prison bars. And they were much cleaner and they were a little bigger than the D Block cells.

This was no place for an innocent puppy.

The soldiers stopped at one of cells on the left side and unlocked it. The walls were as white and barren as the hallway. On the right was a small bed with dull baby blue sheets held up by two cables and behind it was a bantam wooden dresser with drawers and by the far wall was a sink and toilet. The ceiling was lined with long bright electric lights.

The pup was whimpering even louder now, writhed and squirmed as the soldier set him down on the demine blue sheets. The pup made small yipping noises as it wriggled around on the small bed, trying to find someone who would comfort him.

The soldiers filed out of the cell, the last one paused at door. “Ma’am,”

“Just a minute,” she said and sat down next to the tiny pup. She set her hand close to his head. His little nose started to twitch, trying to find the source of the sweet smelling scent.

His little wet nose bumped into Dr. White’s hand, he sniffed it curiously, and then licked it.

            Dr. White smiled and gently pet him on the head. He seemed to settle down at her touch and nosed her hand.

            She knew what he wanted. She carefully picked him up by the waist and lifted him into her lap. He wriggled and squirmed for a moment then settled down and quickly fell fast asleep.

            Who could ever want to hurt such an innocent child, winged werehog or not.

            She gently stroked his soft downy head, then carefully lifted him up and laid him down on the bed. She got up and started to walk out the door. The puppy began to stir and whined for her to come back.

            With tears in her eyes she left the room and closed the door.

            “E, E! I hope you’re hungry, because I have a big breakfast for you!” called Dr. White from the other side of the cell door.

            It had been nearly a month since the alabaster pup’s creation, he had opened his eyes and his ears stood straight up on his soft, downy head, and frequently stretched his enormous black and blood-red wings. He had been fitted with his tracking anklet and his number was tattooed on his right arm. Dr. White had protested but the scientists had paid no attention to her. He was simply the cutest thing Dr. White had ever seen, and he had the biggest, cutest eyes, they were a shining amethyst purple.

            Dr. White hated that the pup still didn’t have a name, so she just called him E.

            “E,” Dr. White called again before opening the door. He was rolling on the floor, playing with a stuffed bunny she had given him. He looked up at her with curious amethyst eyes, then jumped up and ran to Dr. White and leaped up and down like a domestic puppy greeting his master at the door.

            Dr. White couldn’t help but smile. She knelt down and pet him; he jumped up and licked her hand. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of beef jerky. E backed away a little and sat down staring longingly at the piece of meat then at Dr. White. Dr. White held it in front of his face and E ate it gratefully.

            Dr. White stood up and set his breakfast tray on the small bed. She sat down and patted the seat next to her.

            E padded over to her, hunched down; preparing to jump, then leapt into the air and grabbed hold the bed’s edge. E began to slip and whimpered and kicked, trying to get a foot hold on something. Dr. White reached out and pulled him up by his scruff.

            He settled down across from her. She handed him a piece of bacon from the tray, and he wolfed it down like a starving Labrador. He bent down and sniffed the rest of the meat on the tray; bacon, ham, some turkey, and a chunk of raw steak.

            He reached down with his muzzle and took a chunk of ham in his mouth. Dr. White had taken a granola bar from her pocket and was eating it. She looked over at E; he stared at her with his huge amethyst eyes, the hunk of ham hanging out of his mouth.

            Dr. White laughed, werehog puppies were the cutest thing ever.

            Dr. White’s watch beeped. It was 10:00.

            She stood up and walked towards the door. E stopped eating and ran to the edge of the bed, his huge amethyst eyes begging her to stay.

            “Don’t worry E, I’ll be back later,” she reassured, and then closed the door.

            The next few days were the same. Dr. White would come in the morning and greet E, slip him an extra piece of beef jerky and give him his breakfast. She would leave at 10:00 for her other work, then come back at 12:30 and give him his lunch and play with him afterwards. At 6:45 she came in and gave E his dinner and tuck him into bed and turned on his nightlight (Dr. White found out very quickly he was afraid of the dark) and turned off the lights.

            The night before when Dr. White patted the seat next to her for E to go to bed, he had jumped up effortlessly and crawled into bed.

            And to think that only a few days ago he could barely jump up without any help. Thought Dr. White as she tucked him into bed.

            The next morning seemed like any other morning; Dr. White prepared E’s breakfast of meat and bacon and strolled over to his cell. She opened the door casually.

            “E, I hope you’re hungry, because I have a big breakfast for you!”

            “Alright!” exclaimed E in a little kid’s voice and jumped up and down.

            Dr. White gasped. He was talking. He wasn’t supposed to be talking yet. Werehogs started talking when they were about a year and a half to two years old. E was barely a month!

            Dr. White dropped the tray and stared in horror at E.

            E tilted his head sideways. “Dr. White, are you OK? You look all whitish,” inquired E innocently.

            Dr. White was speechless. What was she supposed to say? That he shouldn’t be talking yet?

            And not only was he talking, he had grown. He looked like he was at least three years old!

            Behind her, a soldier marched through the hallways. He stopped when he saw Dr. White.

            “Is everything alright ma’am?” he asked, then he saw E, no longer a newborn puppy but a three-year-old.

            The soldier slowly lifted his gun and aimed at E. E tilted his head, wondering what the man was pointing at him.

            The soldier fired. A dart materialized, injected in E’s neck. E staggered, surprised by the impact of the dart. Suddenly, his eye lids became heavy and he became unusually sleepy. He staggered for around his cell for a few minutes, and then fell to the ground, fast asleep.

            The general burst through the door and into the lab.

            “What happened?!” demanded the general, his face red with anger.

            The scientists turned around in surprise. Above them in the capsule was E with wires stuck to his pelt and massive ebony and blood-red wings. Over his muzzle was an oxygen mask.

            Dr. Lynx was the first to speak. “We’re not sure. Somehow E-148’s growth has increased at an alarming rate. It seems that as a side effect to his creation was accelerated growth,”

            “Oh, that’s it? I thought it was his Black Diamond side had finally come out,”

            “No, and it is a good thing it didn’t,” commented a blond-haired man. “You see, when we fused the deoxyribonucleic acid of that Black Diamond werehog, oh what was his name?”

            “Um, Ebon I think,” replied the general.

            “Yes, Ebon, that’s it.  Well when we alloyed the DNA of Ebon with the DNA of Pallid the Opal werehog, there was, how should I say it; a chemical reaction between the two,”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, usually an Opal and a Black Diamond would never mate, because they’re so different; one is peace loving and the other is a warlord. The Black Diamond dominates the Opal, like with the colors black and white; it only takes a small drop of black to affect the white, but it takes a lot of white to affect the black,”

            “So you’re basically cross-breeding different werehog types with of animals?”

            “Yes that’s basically what Project: USS is; cross-breeding different species in order to create the ultimate super soldier,” said Dr. Lynx, annoyed by the general. “When we added the Flying Fox Bat, Strike’s DNA into the mix, it completely altered his genotype, giving him his wings, and they’re color comes from Ebon’s fur color; jet black, like most Black Diamond werehogs, except he had red streaks, imagine that! A Black Diamond with red streaks,” exclaimed Dr. Lynx.

            “What’s the big about a Black Diamond with red streaks?” asked the general, as if was no more interesting than watching grass grow.

             “Black Diamond werehogs fur and eyes usually range from pitch black to gray; any other colors are very rare in a purebred Black Diamond. His phenotype is entirely based upon the DNA samples from Ebon, Pallid, and Strike,” Dr. Lynx concluded.

            “I see, go on,”

            “Ebon’s fur color completely altered E-148’s wing allele, giving him his slightly demonic appearance. Pallid’s fur color gene was dominate over Ebon’s black fur and Strike’s brown fur, which gave E his alabaster fur. His eyes are very interesting however; we believe it was a combination of Ebon’s crimson eyes and sky blue eyes gave E his amethyst eyes.

            “We’ve also discovered Ebon’s, Pallid’s, and Strike’s inherited alleles; Ebon is one recessive and one dominate, and Pallid is two dominate. Strike’s inherited alleles are very interesting; both recessive,”

            The general yawned. “Yes, this all very nice, but what about his Black Diamond side? When will we see it come out?” asked the general eagerly.

            Dr. Lynx turned to the capsule containing E. “We’re not sure, and let’s hope it doesn’t come out at the wrong time,”

            “What about his transformation? Has he transformed yet?”

            “No, not yet, but maybe…” Dr. Lynx hesitated for a moment, thinking over what the general just said. Then it hit him. “Of course!”

            “What? What is it?”

            “His Black Diamond side hasn’t come out yet because it’s in his transformation,”

            “Are you sure?”

            “No, but there is a strong possibility, the probability is at least one in three chances of my theory being correct,”

            The general stared up at the capsule, his power hungry eyes ablaze. “Then as soon as you’re done with all this, send him to the Test Room and have him transform. Let’s see what happens,”

Two years went by, and Dr. Lynx’s theory proved to be correct. When E transformed, his Black Diamond side immediately emerged and his Opal side disappeared with his white fur. When he transformed, his white fur and amethyst eyes faded away and were replaced by jet black fur and crimson eyes. Not only did his appearance change, but his personality changed as well; instead of being a sweet, peace loving alabaster werehog with amethyst eyes, he became a mean, battle hungry jet black warlord with crimson eyes. And he could not be easily controlled.

He destroyed anyone and anything in his path, many scientists and guards barely escaping with their lives.

But despite his violent other half, the scientists gave him many privileges, and even had his room transferred from Cell Block C to Cell Block A (since the general refused to have E moved to one of the “guest” rooms in HAC), E was allowed to come and go out of his cell as he pleased and roam throughout almost every place within HAC.

One day in the middle of March, Dr. White was walking through the halls of Cell Block A, carrying a tray with a turkey sandwich, a cup of orange soda, and a side of potato chips.

Dr. White turned at one of cell doors and opened it. Inside the mid-sized white room with a twin bed with blue sheets up against the wall on the right, behind it was a bantam wooden dresser, and scattered across the floor were random toys scattered throughout the white floors given to him by Dr. White.

“I hope you’re hungry E, because I got a big breakfast for you!” Dr. White repeated her usual morning greeting. E was lying on the floor, staring at a bird he drawn on a piece of paper on the floor. He flashed a weak smile then returned his attention back to the colorful pencil bird.

            Dr. White set his breakfast on the bed and knelt down by E. She put her gentle hand on his back; he had the body of at least a ten-year-old now.

            “E, what’s wrong?” asked Dr. White concerned. He was never like this.

            He stared up at her with his huge amethyst eyes. “Dr. White, why don’t I have a name?”

            Dr. White just stared at him, a little taken off guard. He had just asked the very same question she had been asking herself since the very first day of his creation.

            “Um, I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Why would ask something like that?”

            “Because everybody else has a name, you, Dr. Lynx, everybody,” his amethyst eyes seemed to get even bigger (if that was possible).

            Dr. White tried to look away from those innocent amethyst puppy eyes, but she couldn’t. How could she say no to a face like that?

            “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go talk to the rest of the scientists and we’ll come up with a name for you, sound good?”

            E nodded his head eagerly. “Uh-huh,”

            She pet his soft head. “Alright then, I’ll be right back,” promised Dr. White.

            She stood up and walked towards the door, she stopped and looked back at E, and he smiled. She smiled back and closed the door.

            “He wants a name?”

            “Yes sir, he asked why everybody else has one and he doesn’t,” replied Dr. White in a calm voice.

            The general groaned and put his powerful hand on his forehead. “Don’t we spoil this thing enough? It’s bad enough he’s allowed to wonder the hallways, and now he wants a name?” the general snarled.

            “Ungrateful little brat,” muttered the general under his breath.

            “Oh, come on, it’s just a name. What’s the harm?” asked Dr. Lynx.

            “Yes, he’s so sweet, a name wouldn’t do any harm,” agreed a female blond-furred humanoid cat named Tammy Drame, a new scientist at HAC.

            “I have a name suggestion,” said Prof. Ash, a male (humanoid) Wolfian with dark brown fur and grey eyes.

            “What?” asked Dr. Dibs, curious.

             “Tarkamos,”

            The cornel raised one of his thick eyebrows. “Tarkamos?”

            “Yes, Tarkamos, it’s Decorian for ‘artificial spirit’. General, what do you think?”

            “Fine. But don’t come back to me for anything else concerning E-148,” the general growled.

‘Artificial spirit’? That’s no better than E-148! Thought Dr. White. Why do they have to be so cruel?

Dr. White closed the door to Tarkamos’ room. She hated the name the scientists had given him. He didn’t know any Decorian and Prof. Ash didn’t seem real eager to teach it to him (Decorian was one of the main languages within the Packs).

So until she could come up with a better name for him she just called him “Tar” for short.

At 2:30 they were going to have Tar try out his transformation again in the Test Room again, but this time they were going to be a little more prepared this time around.

“Ah, Dr. White, how is little Tarkamos doing these days, hm?”

Dr. White froze. It was Deathhorn.

Dr. White’s narrowed her eyes. “What do you want Deathhorn?”

“I just want to see how our little experiment is fairing,” said Deathhorn innocently.

Dr. White took a step back defensively. “He’s doing fine,”

“Good, good,” said Deathhorn, slowly making his way towards Dr. White.

Dr. White tensed. She had never been this close to him before. Never been so close to a cold-blooded predator.

“You should leave. You don’t have clearance to be here,” Dr White said in a shaky voice.

“True, I don’t have clearance,” answered Deathhorn calmly. He pushed his face into her’s; Dr. White took a step back. He was but mere inches away from her face.

“But if it wasn’t for me Tarkamos wouldn’t exist,” hissed Deathhorn.

Dr. White gulped. She knew he was right. He always was. It was a game to him. He was like a demon; he took your worst fears and shoved them in your face, slowly taking control of your mind and your sanity. How could such a sweet creature little like Tar be created by a cold-blooded monster like this?

Deathhorn sulked away down the long white corridor. Dr. White was frozen in place.

Now I’m starting to realize why Deathhorn was locked up in the first place. Thought Dr. White grimly.

 From what she knew, Deathhorn had been arrested because his experiments had gone too far. But Dr. White had known it was much worse than that; the government was trying to hide their mistakes, like with Scourge Shard. The newspapers said he was nothing more than a petty thief living on the streets and went a little too far when he stole a senator’s wallet. But Dr. White had done a little research and found out they arrested him because he had somehow gotten a hold of the deadly chemical known as Serum X from a group of local black market liquor sellers. As a result, Scourge had become a blood-thirsty relentless killer; striking down and savagely slaughtering anyone who dared to defy him, and killing them in the most gruesome and painful way possible: ripping out their organs out with his bare hands. Serum X also had a nasty effect on Snipps, Scourge’s pet chao, and had turned her into a Wolfian and just as dangerous and savage killer as Scourge. To hide the truth about Serum X and the effect of their lethal experiment, they had him arrested and bribed the newspapers to make up a story about him stealing a senator’s wallet. Of course before Scourge had ever gotten a hold of Serum X, he really was just a petty thief, but there were so many gangs, rouges, and thieves in that area of town that the police never bothered to catch them all. And they paid the price for it.

Deathhorn wasn’t much different. Based on the rumors and what she had been able to find out so far, Deathhorn had kidnapped innocent children who wondered too close to his secret lab and shackling them from the bottom of their feet to the tops of their heads, throwing them in a filthy rat-infested, gloomy cell, and were fed next to nothing and the food that was given to them was near inedible. They were meant to be Deathhorn’s test subjects for his experiments. She had even heard rumor that he beat and whipped them whenever they misbehaved or tried to escape. Many never made out alive. Some never made it out at all. The “subjects” were subjected to cruel mistreatment and sometimes near fatal experiments, once Dr. White heard a rumor of a child who had been mutated into something nearly as dangerous and as ugly as Project X, almost like a super induced Frankenstein. And Deathhorn’s most infamous subject; a Gold werehog from the Gold Pack. Rumor has it that the young male werehog was the son of the late Golden Alpha, Oak Hedge. The young werehog was kidnapped when he was hunting in the forest not far from Deathhorn’s lab, only a few days after the Gold Pack was raided and Oak was killed and the Packs scattered at the beginning of the Carnage (also known as the Wereian Holocaust). The little werehog was only eight at the time of his capture. The young male was taken by surprise by a pair of Deathhorn’s guards and taken to his lab where he was kept as a subject for over four years, where he endured cruel mistreatment and whippings and experiments. And according to rumor, Deathhorn had unleashed his fury on the pup and tore his huge claws into the young werehog’s chest, nearly killing him, them subjected him to a special cell to be severely chained from head to toe and imprisoned there until his near fatal chest wound healed. A little over four years after his imprisonment, he escaped. Some say now he lives up in Oak Field, Minnesota with a beautiful wife and enough kids to make a small Pack. But he is forever scarred by the memories of Deathhorn’s cruelty, the images of his massive claws raking his soft chest. He is eternally scarred, both emotionally and physically. And he says he has the scars to prove it. About a decade after the young werehog escaped, he had exposed Deathhorn for what he had done to him. After it started getting in the papers, the government immediately arrested him, because the government had done business with Deathhorn before because he was such a brilliant scientist and his formulas were ingenious, and the government didn’t want word getting out in the public that the government did business with a cold-blooded child killer. So for years the government paid millions of dollars to keep the press quiet and Deathhorn out of the paper. And they succeeded. But not before some word leaked out into the public. And the young werehog, the only known subject to escape Deathhorn’s grasp, refused to keep quiet to a government that had tried to kill him, a government that had killed his father. After all, it was the government that had started the Carnage in the first place.

Tarkamos casually wondered through the dark corridors of HAC, it was “closing time” as Dr. Dibs said. It was almost time for Tarkamos to retire to his room and go to sleep, but first, he wanted to see if Dr. White would sneak him and extra piece of beef jerky. She always snuck him extra pieces beef jerky and other treats. She was his best friend in all of HAC.

Friend was a new word he had just learned and felt smart using it. Only, he still wasn’t really sure what a friend was yet, but he guessed Dr. White was one.

“Ah. Tarkamos, is it?”

Tarkamos stopped and turned his head towards the sound. Behind him was a humanoid lizard with tribal tattoos running from his left eye to the tip of his long tail, a huge scar ran down his milky, right eye and to the edge of his jaw, and two enormous scarred and red-inked tribal tattooed horns rose up from his massive head. His scalely body was littered with bruises and cuts and around his arm was a white bandage with the blood soaking through. His hands were folded behind his back and his back was hunched over ever so slightly.

“A-Are you talking to me?” asked Tarkamos in his high-pitched, innocent-sounding voice and pointed to his chest.

“Yes. Tarkamos is it?”

The young winged werehog smiled brightly and turned towards the stranger. “Yep! Prof. Ash gave me the name!”

“Yes, yes, I know. Now tell me, have you ever thought of running away?”

Tarkamos’ smile disappeared and he stared the strange lizard with huge shining, naïve amethyst eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked innocently.

“I mean have you ever thought of leaving HAC?”

Tarkamos paused for a few moments and put his hand on his chin and looked down at the floor and scrunched up his eye brows in deep concentration.

He looked up at the strange lizard again and shook his head. “Nope,”

“Well you should,” he replied curtly and stared down coldly at the small snow white werehog.

He tilted his head to the side. “Why?”

Deathhorn bent his head down to Tarkamos’ height and stopped right in front of his face. The young werehog took a step back and stared naïvely back into those cold, menacing eyes with innocent, curious amethyst eyes.

The stranger’s face grew solemn and his eyes softened. “Go down the hall. You should pass by three doors. At the third door stop and listen in on the conversation,”

“You want me to spy on people?” exclaimed Tarkamos, completely bewildered at the very thought of spying. “But Dr. White said �" “

“I don’t care what Dr. White said!” snarled the stranger.

Tarkamos took a step back and seemed to have shrunk; his ears lowed at the stranger’s harsh words.

He had hurt him. Great. He would be even harder to convince now.

Tarkamos gulped and took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

“I won’t spy. Spying is wrong. Dr. White said it’s not good to go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he said in his firmest voice.

Deathhorn had to resist the urge to laugh. It was so naïve sounding. He may have the body of a ten-year-old, but he was acting like a four-year-old. Doing exactly what people told him to do. Well, hopefully he could get him to change his mind before the moment came for him to die.

He straightened himself to his full height. “Very well then. Suit yourself,” he said and passed by little Tarkamos like he wasn’t even there. Tarkamos stared after the mysterious stranger as he disappeared down the hall.

But before he disappeared completely from sight he called over his shoulder: “Just don’t come crying back to me when they lead you to your doom!” he put an extra dark emphasis on the word doom. And then he vanished down the long corridor of HAC.

Tarkamos stared after him, confused about his words. “Just don’t come crying back to me when they lead you to your doom!” What did he mean? Who was gonna lead him to his doom? What was a “doom” anyway?

He stood there, staring after the strange lizard and contemplating his even stranger words. What did he mean?

He shook his head and continued on towards Dr. White’s office to see if she would sneak him and extra piece of beef jerky.

He kept walking down the seemingly endless metal corridor as he passed by one door and then another and then another…

“Shut up! I knew we should’ve gotten rid of him while we had the chance!”

Tarkamos stopped. That was the general’s voice. And he sounded angry.

Tarkamos slowly crept up to the doorway where the general’s voice had come from; peering through a small crack in the door (the door wasn’t closed all the way). Dr. White always told him never to poke his nose where it didn’t belong, but he was curious, and besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

The general and Dr. Lynx were talking in hushed voices so Tarkamos leaned in closer to listen to what the general and Dr. Lynx were talking about.

"He has to go. You saw what he did to the Test Room, he completely destroyed it! When that , that, weredevil is transformed like that he's nothing but a complete, mindless monster, a demon! An angry, carnage drunk DEMON! It took five sleeping darts just to get him to calm down! Not to mention what it took to get him out of his transformation and into his cell. It's just not worth it!”

“But sir-“protested Dr. Lynx.

“But NOTHING! Tomorrow I want a team of elite guards to bind him in heavy restraint cuffs and escort him straight to the Abolition Chambers to be decommissioned. I believe it's time to put an end to Project: E-148, permanently." commanded the raging general.

Tarkamos staggered back, panicking. Decommissioned. He shuddered at the thought. Then he realized that that weird stranger had been trying to warn him. He turned in the opposite direction and bolted down the long, endless corridor, went past the row of labs and the steel doors leading to the endless row of cells. He stopped in front of a tremendous steel door and stood on his tippy-toes and typed in the code to open it. A low hissing sound filled his wolf-like ears and then the door slowly slid open. He ran past the rows of planes and jets and trucks and other strange vehicles he didn’t recognize and ran as fast as he could to the exit. He skidded to a halt in front of it. He turned his head and looked behind him, his amethyst eyes shaking with fear, checking to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He shook his head and took deep breathes to try and calm himself. He typed in the code to open the enormous steel door. It opened with a loud hiss and then slid open without another sound. He bolted out of the hanger as soon as the doors opened wide enough for him to fit through. Tarkamos flapped his huge black and blood-red wings, briefly lifting off the ground before he fell back down. Despite his huge wings, he didn’t actually know how to fly.

He raced through this thick grove of plants that he thought could only be a “forest” as he thought it was called. Tarkamos tripped over a tree root and scrambled to get back up again, running into a tree branch as he got up and scratched his face. Tears were streaming down his face as he left the place he had once called “home”. This continued until he reached the top of a large hill and stopped to rest. He was panting hard and bent over and pressed his hands against his knees. He turned his head back to look back at HAC.

He looked back at HAC. Why...? He thought. What did I do wrong...? How could you do this to me? He looked away and kept running.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a storm was coming.

Up ahead, Tarkamos spotted a shed or a small hay barn in the distance (he couldn't really tell) and scrambled to it for shelter from the approaching weather, the first trickles of the rainstorm chilled him to his bones.

He quickly crept behind a small stack of hay in the corner and sat, with his enormous wings wrapped around like an egg shell, shielding him from the outside world, and wept.

It had only been a few minutes before the door to the hay shed (or whatever it was) creaked opened.

"Now where did I leave that stupid bracelet, maybe I left behind the hay...? Oh!" Cherry gasped when she saw Tarkamos, cowering in the corner behind his huge wings, his amethyst eyes wide with fear.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in our shed...?" she stared at his giant, ebony wings, hiding his face and the rest of his body. "What are you...?" Tarkamos scooted farther in the corner.

Cherry reached out for the young, frightened werehog.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you," Tarkamos' muscles tensed as he stared in horror at Cherry's out-stretch hand reaching for him.

She stroked his wing gently; Tarkamos relaxed a bit and let his wings fall a little so she could see him, enough to tell he was a werehog, and to get a better look at her face. She was a red humanoid bunny with dirty blond hair and shining lavender eyes.

“Who are you anyway?” asked the scarlet bunny.

"I'm Project: E-148, at least, that's my number, but my name is Tarkamos. I'm a winged werehog from HAC," Tarkamos stated and paused. "You’re not gonna take me back, are you?" he asked, his amethyst eyes filled with alarm.

Cherry folded her arms and leaned against the stack of hay. "Well that depends, why did you leave HAC?"

"I overheard the general and Dr. Lynx talking about me, and the general said I should be..." he gulped.”Decommissioned."

Cherry stared at him with concern and sympathy. "Geez, no wonder you left, and, if my Decorian if correct, you do know Tarkamos means 'artificial spirit', right?"

"What?!" Tarkamos stared in disbelief and horror at this news.

"I guess not, well, I guess we could come up with a new more 'suitable' name for you. How about Taros?"

"What does it mean?"

"It means 'free spirit', and friend," she took his hand in hers.

"You don't need to run anymore, you're not alone, I…" Cherry hesitated, fighting the tears that threatened to stream down her wet face. “I know what it’s like to be alone,”

She squeezed his hand a little. “And I want to help you in any way I can,”

Taros’ wings unfolded and he stared at this mysterious red bunny and gazed into her sweet lavender eyes.

“You, you would do that for me?” asked Taros in complete and utter surprise.

Cherry smiled warmly at him. “Of course! That’s what friends do for each other!”

Taros smiled at her, he never had a friend before, well, and he guessed Dr. White was a friend, but he wasn’t really sure. Taros only vaguely knew the meaning of the word ‘friend’, but he knew it was a good thing. "Thank you. What's your number?"

She smiled warmly at him and chuckled at his question. "You're welcome, and I don't have a number, I have a name, it's Cherry, Cherry Starclaw.”More..

Author's Note

This was originally a science project, so ignore the extra science tid-bits. Be honest, what do you think?