Mortal Weapons (working title)

Fallon is fifteen, though not entirely normal. She lives in a government base somewhere in the United States, probably. She doesn't have parents, she never has. Made from altered cells, she was grown in a test tube. She doesn't know if there are others - maybe there are, maybe there aren't. Maybe one day she'll find out.

Prologue

Everything happens for a reason, that's what they said. They told me it was meant to happen. I never questioned them. I never actually thought about what it was they had done to me, I didn't want to. At least there was one person I could trust. Then again, you didn’t really get much chance to mingle if you live your entire life in a government laboratory. All I could do was be grateful that I hadn’t ended up like the others, dead because of something in which we had no say.

I’ve always gone by many names, as well as none at all; there weren't many who got the 'privilege' of seeing me, whatever that was supposed to mean. In my mind, I was nothing special. I didn't know there was any other kind of life to live. Naïve as I was, I did so wish for something... Different; the same scene gets rather boring after watching it for the fifteen years of your life.

Some would call me a monster, a freak, an abomination. Those people have no imagination, that's what I was told. An oddity, a mutant, a monstrosity; call me what you will. I know of no others like me, but that doesn’t mean there aren't any; I know there are secrets that corrupt my 'family', and that there’s no lack of them.

The result of a government experiment; there I was, trapped by the very ones who created me. 'Shadows lurk in the hearts of men', I read that somewhere, but never had I considered the truth in the statement.

For fifteen years, they trained me in a hidden facility and I wasn’t allowed outside. I’d never seen the sun. I didn't actually know my location in the world. In that large room they trained me. I never noticed how realistic the scenarios were. They were training me to be a soldier. In a remote outpost they were creating a warrior to save the human race when a different kind of soldier was needed..

Twenty seven years ago, a scientist had an idea, as they do. It was one of those 'what if?' questions. What if we could rewrite the human genome? What if we could create the greatest weapon of all time, but could blend it into society? After twelve years of failed experiments, I came along; the answer to their prayers. The weapon they wanted was the weapon they got. But then, you have to be careful what you wish for, don't you?

The End

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