There was an old truck sitting in a grocery store’s parking lot. It was so old that the cover was made of steel, instead of plastic like the new ones were. Its blue paint was fading away and some of it was peeling off. There was a wooden board on the bottom of the truck covering most of its surface. The wheels on the truck were tough, but old and would need to be replaced soon. But, overall, it was a good truck that was able to live for so long.

Two men, a father and his son, walked towards it, pushing a cart filled with grocery.

The father was larger and stronger than his son with large tough hands. His hair was graying and his large square glasses were thick. His gray shirt was half-tucked in his dark blue sweatpants, half blown to the side by the breeze. His gray shoes were old with the top of his shoes developing holes every day.

His brown hair had a tendency to cover his right eye and he had to brush them away so he could see. His yellow shirt was tucked into his loose blue jeans. The belt he was wearing was old, but his white shoes were fairly new.

They both reached the blue truck and they put in the stuff they got from the store. After they finished, the father handed the truck keys his son and went to put the cart back.

The son unlocked the passenger door and jumped inside. He then unlocked the driver door side and put the keys in the ignitions. He then waited, drinking his Diet Pepsi and thinking at the same time, until the father returned. There was something odd about him, but the son ignored it.

He turned the keys and then drove the truck out of the parking lot, onto the street and . . . passing by their home.

"Um, where are we going?" the son asked.

"To the hardware store," the father replied. "I just remembered I had to get a tool from there. OK?"

"OK."

So then he drove the truck to a hardware store, but the son noted that he wasn't stopping at the usual places he would go.

The engine stopped at one right at the edge of town and the son jumped out of the car, but before he could do anything, he felt a blow to the neck, making him lose control of his body and fell down. The last thing he saw was his soda can on the ground, spilling its contents, and a pair of brown polished shoes.

---- Three Months Later ----

There was a white building on the west coast. It was five stories high and it went deep underground, four floors below. It looked strong and far enough to prevent anyone from stumbling into it unless they were looking for it.

A green jeep drove by and stopped in front of a building as a man jumped out of it. His green shirt was covered in metals and stars.  His gray hat hid his balding head, and combined with his small glasses, gray goatee and oval, wrinkled face, made him look like a jovial old man. The steely gaze emanating from the blue eyes hiding behind the glasses, however, was anything but jovial.

The man walked into the building and passed by a couple of guards. There were several people he had passed by through a hallway, all staring at him, but none of them were the person he was looking for. So he turned right to another hallway and he saw the person by the entrance of a lab.

“Dr. Cygne,” he said.

Dr. Cygne was a little startled, but calmed down when she saw him, pulling her ginger hair softly and looking at him with her red-orange eyes. She was fairly nice in looks, with a round face and a thin body. She wore a white shirt that was button up with a white lab coat over it and black pants. Her shoes were high-heeled and polished black.

"Oh, general Bulhond," Dr. Cygne addressed. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"I came here because I heard rumors of experiments," general Bulhond explained with a hint of coldness in his voice. "Normally I would ignore those kinds of rumors, but this one is different."

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"These rumors," general Bulhond explained, "said that you were doing illegal human experiments."

She looked surprised as he demanded, "Well, is it true?"

Dr. Cygne hesitated then said. "Yes, it's true."

General Bulhond sighed, "You know what the public’s potential reaction would be they  learn learned about it. I mean, look at how they reacted when they learned what scientists were doing to animals! It may even kill your career! Why are you doing this? What made you do this? What is important enough to do this?”

"Because I was curious," Dr. Cygne answered. "The men who asked me to do it told me their hypothesis on the results. I thought what they believe is the outcome could never happen, but they told me otherwise. In the end, I accepted it. I had to see for myself."

"And did it happened?" general Bulhond asked.

"Yes . . . so far," Dr. Cygne replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Let me show you," Dr. Cygne said and led the general through the labs and hallways.

"Dr. Cygne?" general Bulhond asked as they walked side by side. "When you decided to become a scientist, was doing experiments on humans on your list on what to do?"

"No," she admitted, "especially not what they demanded. But I had to see for myself."

"Why did they hire you anyways?"

"Because they thought my studies on the DNA coding and what they mean would be vital on keeping it stabilized."

"Wha-"

"Here we are!" Dr. Cygne said.

They had reached a steel door in the middle of the building. It was very tough and a gel-based fingerprint scanner and retinal scanner were next to it. She used them and the machine recognized her eyescans and hand prints within the database, opening the door. Inside was a plain room with another steel door at the other side with more scanners as a guard went out and saw general Bulhond.

“He’s with me,” Dr. Cygne told him and the guard nodded and went back inside.

“He checks to see if I’m really the person it was scanning,” she explained to general Bulhond as they entered. “Very few people have the privilege to enter. I have to tell him that you’re with me or else you can’t enter.

“Now stand still and close your eyes,” Dr. Cygne advised him as some sort of machine starts above them. General Bulhond looked up and saw red lasers that were so close together that they looked like a wall. He quickly closed his eyes and they passed through all three of their heads. It had not reached their knees when the room was bathed in red light and some sort of alarm ranged in the room.

Dr. Cygne looked shocked as she nearly shouted to general Bulhond, “Unarmed yourself!”

General Bulhond was startled, but he saw the guard was walking towards him and he said irritably, “Alright!”

He then pulled out a small gun from his pocket and handed it to the guard, explaining loudly, “It was for self-defense!”

The guard then opened the door to the hallway and there stood a woman, who was somewhat jittery. He handed her the gun and closed the door, telling the general, “You can get it back when you are finish with the doctor.”

General Bulhond sighed impatiently as the red lights were gone and the red wall of lasers appeared again, this time on their waist. It then went down to their feet and it has disappeared.

“The lasers were designed to look for specific shapes in the body, like a gun, and see if it’s registered in the main computer,” Dr. Cygne explained as she went to the other steel door. “If it isn’t, well, you saw what happened. I should’ve asked earlier. Sorry.”

“But supposed if it’s just look like what it’s scanning for, like a toy gun?” general Bulhond asked.

“It’s designed to ignore them.”

“How?”

“By seeing if it have the elements or not? I don’t know. I don’t fully understand how all these security equipment work.”

She inserted her index finger into a DNA scanner and while it examined her blood, a robotic voice said, “State your full name.”

“Cygne, Ruth,” Dr. Cygne replied.

The machine scanned her voice and accepted it and, after a minute, accepted the DNA also. The steel door opened into a dark room.

"Behold, the next generation of soldiers!" Dr. Cygne declared as they entered the dark room.

General Bulhond was appalled at what he saw. There was a teenage boy within a tube of thick fluid, tubes snaking into his body and a gas mask placed over his face. There was a cord connected to the back of his head, but that was nothing compared to what was happening to the boy himself.

The boy seems to be changing into some sort of wereanimal freak. His face was forming a muzzle and his ears were becoming triangular in shape and moving up his head. There were patches of fur on him, but those were few and far in between. The palm of his hands seems to be thickening into pads and his fingernails were long and dark. His feet had the same thing happening to it soles and nails, but they were also lengthening into a shape of a digitigrades paws. There was also a tail forming, but it was furless and short.

General Bulhond’s mouth was agape, which Dr. Cygne noticed.

"I know what you feel. I was shocked too when it began to change him."

General Bulhond shut his mouth and shook his head. "I can't believe you'd accept to do this. If I was your superior, I would order you to shut it down!"

"Even if you were," Dr. Cygne said quietly, "I would argue to at least continue it until it is completed."

"What do you mean-?"

"The boy's now dependent on the fluids surrounding him," Dr. Cygne answered. "They are the reason why he has survived for so long."

General Bulhond looked at the tube again. "Explain please."

"You see," Dr. Cygne explained, "he was injected with viruses that are transforming him right now. Under normal conditions, he should have died by now since the human body isn't made to handle the stress of changing like that. But, thanks to a mixture of chemicals, it's now theoretically possible for the body to survive it."

"But it's just guesswork, right?" general Bulhond asked. "He could still die in the middle of it?"

"Yes, but it may be possible for him to survive it," Dr. Cygne replied.

General Bulhond was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, "Do you know what this boy’s name was?"

"No," Dr. Cygne admitted. "All I know is that they choose him because of his ancestry shows generations of soldiers throughout the ages. I don't even know if he volunteered to do this or not."

General Bulhond turned to looked at her. "You'd mentioned it being the next generation of soldiers and that he was the youngest in a long line of soldiers. What do you mean by that?"

"Well," Dr. Cygne began as she went closer to the tube, “the experiment was meant to create a soldier whose capabilities are much higher than an average soldier. A super soldier you may say. These viruses are not just changing him into a werecreature. They are increasing his physical capabilities and senses to a higher level. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if this would lead to the replacement of the human race.

"Also, if you look at this," she pointed at the cord behind the boy’s head, "that's called a Wiedzy. It's implanting skills that he would need to use his abilities efficiently. It's teaching him skills to use weapons and vehicles while teaching him languages. There is probably more information being implanted into him, but that's the general picture of it."

General Bulhond was quiet for a few seconds as he walked towards the tube. He pressed his hand on the tube, feeling disgusted about all this.

"Doctor . . . should this succeed . . . will they also do this to the soldiers in the military?" he asked.

"Yes," Dr. Cygne admitted. "But they wanted to do nine more first to see if there's anything different to this one. Then they'll show what they're capable of to the people at Washington."

"Do they know?"

"No. They thought it would be best to keep it away from the eyes of the politicians to minimize leakage, since they do have a habit of telling secrets."

General Bulhond’s face then  turned red with anger. "Even if they do accept it and we have the greatest army in the world, I'll not let anyone go through with this. Dr. Cygne, as soon as it's finished changing into that . . . thing, I want this to be shut down!"

General Bulhond then stormed out of the room with Dr. Cygne following right behind him. "But general, they will make sure that the other nine will go through with this and show it to Washington. Especially Mr. Consilium-"

General Bulhond stopped and turns to face her. "I don't care if this Mr. Consilium wants to show him off. No one in this country will accept that thing!"

"But sir-"

"This conversation is over! I'll make sure, after it's done, that no more will be victims of this, even if I have to shut down the whole damned project myself!”

General Bulhond then continued to walk as Dr. Cygne looked at the floor. She felt within her a feeling of guilt. Guilt at accepting to lead the experiments; guilt at changing the boy into a werecreature; guilt of knowing of the possible prejudice he would have to suffer through. But she knew that she had to continue this until he was finished, so he may walk again.

-----

<i>There was darkness all around the teenage boy. So dark he couldn't see himself. Somehow, the darkness felt familiar. As he had seen it before. As if he had touched it before. As if he was here many times before. Yet, at the same time, his mind told him that this was the first time in the darkness. How strange to have thoughts arguing each other on what was the truth in his mind.

Then there was a burst of light and he was standing in a steel room. There were doors at his left  and right side. He was holding a longsword in his left hand and, in his right, a Colt Peacemaker .45 LC. He could also see himself in the reflection below and he decided to see what he truly looked like.

There was a muzzle on his face at was acute in shape and covered in white fur. His brown hair was covering his right eye, which was green in color. His entire face was covered in white fur which looked fluffy. His ears were on the top of his head, triangular in shape.

He couldn’t see his chest since there was a dark suit that was clinging on deeply to his skin. The sleeves reached out to his wrists, where the white fur was exposed. His claws on his hand and his pads on his palms were dark.

His suit also extends to his legs, clinging tightly down to his ankles. His paws were digitigrades and tough claws extended from his toes and his tough pads felt cold from touching the floor. His tail wasn't wearing anything, showing an extremely bushy tail.

The werefox looked at the doors and felt an unexplainable urge to enter one of them. Looking at them, he decided to go to the door to his right. So he heads towards the door, which opened by itself, and went to the other side.

At that side of the door was what looked like a western town from those western films. The floor he was standing on was made of wood and the ground in front of him was brown dirt and rocks. At the other side of the dirt ground was a saloon made of wood, two windows on the ground floor, and saloon doors.

He turned around and saw a wooden wall behind him. He thought there was a door there, but his mind told him there had never been never a door there. So he decided to go into the saloon.

As the werefox walked there, he used his left hand to brush the hair away from his right eye. He then thought he was missing something, but his mind also told him he was missing nothing. So he let it slide and push open the saloon doors.

He looked around the saloon and saw no one was there. There were the round, wooden tables, the counter with shelves behind it filled with bottles of alcohol, and a stairway to the next floor, but no living thing here. Yet he could tell, with his nose and ears, that there was someone here not too long ago. So he stood there, waiting, until he heard someone was cocking their gun.

The werefox quickly jumped to the side just in time as the person hiding above him fired a shot where the werefox was standing. He looked up and saw a man there, wearing a button shirt, pants, and a cowboy hat, holding a revolver. He quickly cocked his own revolver and shot him before the man got a chance to try again. The man stumbled and fell onto the counter below.

Then another man, looking the same as the man the werefox killed, entered through the saloon doors, wielding a revolver also. He saw him and pointed his gun at him, but the werefox quickly got up and knocked it out of his hand. The gun fell down with a thud as he cocked his own gun and shot the man. The man stumbled back and collapsed on one of the table.

The werefox heard a crashing sound behind him and spun around, seeing a man crashing through the window. They aimed, cocked their gun, and fired, but it was the werefox’s bullet which found its mark. The man fell on the floor, tried to get up, but collapsed in the end.

The werefox then slowly walked through the place, his Colt Peacemaker ready to fire at a second notice. He was barely at the center of the room when, above him, another man entered, armed. He noticed the werefox and aimed his gun, but the other was faster and shot the man. He grabbed his chest as he fell backwards.

The werefox then heard someone coming behind him and turned around, cocking his revolver. The man entered the saloon, firing his gun wildly, but he missed and the werefox shot back. The man stumbled forward and went pass the werefox before he fell.

The werefox was looking at the dead man when he heard the last man entering the saloon. He pointed his revolver at the man, who was holding a lever-action rifle. His eyes were brown and sharp with black hair and a mustache. His shirt was blue and buttoned up with brown cowhide over it. His blue pants reached to his brown boots.

He was aiming his rifle directly at the werefox heart with him doing the same with his Colt Peacemaker. They aimed their guns at each other, but then the man, who seems amused by this, lower his rifle. The werefox, confused, did the same thing, though was still prepared to fire it. When the man unloaded his rifle, he finally understood what the man wanted, did the same with his revolver. They then walked out of the saloon and on the dirt road.

They went to the middle of the road, ten feet apart, and they put their guns on the ground. They got up and they stared intensely at each other, waiting for the other to move first. After what seems to be a minute, they both moved in the same second and picked up the guns. With blinding speed, they reloaded their guns, but the werefox was a fraction of a second faster and aimed his revolver first. The then stared tensely at each other and when the man tried to aim the werefox cocked his Colt Peacemaker and shot him.

The man dropped his lever-action rifle and fell backwards to the ground and rolled around. He then struggled to get back to his feet, but was having trouble doing so. He then dragged himself to the wood floor and used it to try to get back up. He was able to stand up and look at the werefox in the eye before he finally fell down, dead.

The werefox the stood up, but then a flash of light and then nothing.

There was darkness all around the teenage boy. So dark he couldn't see himself. Somehow, the darkness felt familiar. As he had seen it before. As if he had touched it before. As if he was here many times before. Yet, at the same time, his mind told him that this was the first time in the darkness. How strange to have thoughts arguing each other on what was the truth in his mind.</i>

----Three Months Later----

Dr. Cygne was in her office, writing reports on her desk about the werefox (she had confirmed it to be an arctic fox) and how the stages of his transformation were going. She hadn't heard from general Bulhond since he had discovered the experiment and didn’t know if Mr. Tolle and Mr. Consilium had convinced him to not reveal the truth of the werefox when he was done changing. Regardless, she'd decided to leave it once the final part of the experiment on the werefox was finish.

She was writing down the current werefox description when one of the assistan ts entered the room, breathless.

"Dr. Cygne. . . .," She said between breaths. "The werefox-”

"What's wrong?" Dr. Cygne asked.

"The werefox . . . is awakening."

"What?!" Dr. Cygne almost screamed and jumped out of her chair. Her lab coat and ginger hair floated behind her as she rushed down the hall to see the werefox, her high heels clipping loudly on the marble floors as the assistant follows. She reached the door and, after giving out Dr. Cygne eye scan and fingerprints, they entered and let the lasers scanned them, though there was an air of impatience around Dr. Cygne. After what seems like hours to Dr. Cygne, she then gives her DNA scan and nearly flubbed up her voice scan before she calmed herself. After it had finished her scans, they entered and looked at the tube.

The boy in the tube was almost unrecognizable with fur all over his body and his muzzle and tail fully formed. The ears were little triangles on his head that looked cute with the chest having extra fluff of fur and the tail extremely bushy. The fingernails and toenails were replaced by claws and the feet were now paws that were fairly large.

Dr. Cygne noticed he was conscience.

"Get him out of there!"

As soon as Dr. Cygne ordered that, the scientists and assistan ts were working frantically to drain the fluid out of the tube. As soon as the tube was void of chemicals, they opened it up and pulled him out of there, disconnecting the tubes and Wiedzy from him. The werefox breathed air for the first time in six months and he was put on the stretcher to be taken down for recovery.

Dr. Cygne watched him get taken away as her assistan t asked, "Will he be alright?"

"I don't know," Dr. Cygne admitted. "We got him this far without his body dying from the stress. But will the body accept it?"

-----

The werefox was laying on a bed in a white room that was sterile and windowless. The bed he was laying on was a hospital bed, with a white mattress and white sheets. His body had tubes connected to him so they could give him nutrients. The werefox was looking up, but not seeing.

In the corner of the room there, the camera was ominously staring at the prisoner. The camera was hooked to a high definition TV with Dr. Cygne watching it.

As she was watching him, a man entered the room, which Dr. Cygne recognized as one of the two people who convinced her to accept the experiment. His hair was fair on his square face, though she noticed it was rather shaggy. His eyes were purple and she noticed he hadn’t sleep in a while. He wore a brown suit with a brown tie and she can see herself in his polished brown shoes.

He quickly looked around the room, at Dr. Cygne, and finally the TV. He went by her side, looking at the werefox.

"Dr. Cygne, I believe you had outdone yourself. Good job," he congratulated her.

"It's not over yet Mr. Tolle," Dr. Cygne told him. "We still need to see if he'll live."

"He looks like he had," Mr. Tolle pointed out.

"The chemicals he was submerged in prevented his body from getting stress from the changes done to him," Dr. Cygne explained. "But now he's not in chemical, we need to see what happen next. Will his body accepts the changes or will it kill itself, thinking it's the enemy?"

"OK," Mr. Tolle said and he went closer to the TV screen, looking at the werefox face. "Why doesn't he seem to see the ceiling above him?"

"That's due to the Wiedzy that was implanted in him," Dr. Cygne answered. "It  has given him the skills he would need to use his abilities and now he's recovering from it."

"Can you explain a bit more and try to keep it simple?" Mr. Tolle asked. "Mr. Consilium never did properly his plans to anyone. Always leaving out important details."

"I know what you mean," Dr. Cygne exclaimed. "Well, the viruses that were injected in him did edits to his entire body. Every five days in the first two months we would inject more until his all of his cells had been implanted the DNA. We made sure they only attack certain cells so he doesn't sprout a tail on his head. During the progress, the body would be knocked out by the viruses to decrease the stress levels until it finished changing.

"As you know, the chemicals he was covered in also make sure his body doesn’t collapse out of stress. But, since there was no way to teach them how to move with the body, we had invented the Wiedzy.

"It works by implanting skills and knowledges into his mind in the form of dreams. Endless dreams. Feeling like it has been a year when really a second passed by. It would eventually reach the point of muscle memories and even memories themselves. But it's all theoretical. We don't know if it would work."

"I think I understand now," Mr. Tolle said. "Do you think he'll survive?"

"I'm sure he will," Dr. Cygne replied. "The tests so far shows that nothing bad is happening inside of him that will kill him."

"Can it work if we use the other nine or will they died in the middle?" Mr. Tolle asked as he turn to look at her.

"I don't know honestly," Dr. Cygne confessed. "Maybe he's one in a hundred. Maybe everyone will live though that. It'll need to be tested more."

"Which you'll lead, I hope."

"Mr. Tolle," Dr. Cygne declared as she looked at him in the eye, " I refuse to conduct the procedure on anybody else.”

Dr. Cygne then walked away as Mr. Tolle followed. "But doctor, you and your team  have done a splendid job with the werefox. Even Mr. Consilium thought it was a great job. After all he was the one who recommended you-"

"It was nothing, but I can't bare to go though that project again, especially to nine more people."

"Dr. Cygne, you had accepted to take on the project, knowing what would happen if it was a success." Mr. Tolle pointed out as he moved quickly to be by her side.

"I took it because I was curious," Dr. Cygne explained. "I accepted it, going against my moral code, to  satisfy it. But, seeing it happen before my very eyes, I felt guilty of doing it to someone. Besides, my curiosity has been satisfied so I  feel no reason to stay here."

"We'll miss you, especially Mr. Consilium."

"Don't worry about it."

They walked into Dr. Cygne’s office and she sat behind her desk with Mr. Tolle sitting down too. She then handed a folder to him, saying, "Here are the notes and reports written by me about the werefox while he was being transformed. By the way, had you heard from general Bulhond?"

"Thank you and yes," Mr. Tolle answered, taking the folder. "He made quite a fuss when we were trying to convince him otherwise. But Mr. Consilium was able to find a way to convince him to not shut this down until we finish these experiments."

"Mr. Tolle," Dr. Cygne demanded, "let’s be honest. I know that you were the one who recommended that boy, who's now a werefox, to experiment on. Tell me, did he volunteer to go through this or not?"

Mr. Tolle hesitated and admitted, "We . . . took him from his family. But Mr. Consilium and I knew that no human . . . would be willing to volunteer to have this happen to them."

"So . . . what you are saying is," Dr. Cygne said, with her voice becoming colder and angrier by the word, "that I was working on a boy who was kidnapped from his home, and made sure there's no way for him to come back!?"

"Yes," Mr. Tolle answered sadly. "I didn't want to do it, but he convinced me that this is the only option we can use. I still feel that there's another way and, ever since we took him, I'd been regretting it ever since. Even though I did it for my country, I knew it was wrong. I was there, watching our men as they kidnapped the boy on the spot. I watched him lose conscience. If I could undo it, I would. I swear to you, I would."

Dr. Cygne looked at him coldly and demanded, "Leave my office."

"Very well," Mr. Tolle said quietly and he walked out of the office, with the folder in hand.

Dr. Cygne covered her face, feeling a mixture of emotions throughout her body. Regret . . . sadness . . . and anger. She wanted to leave this place, go as far away as she  could, but she knew that she could not. She agreed to stay until the experiments were completed. So she instead silently cried.

-----

The werefox lay on that bed for a few days, looking up at the ceiling unless he was sleeping. He hardy says anything or did anything except think and even then his thoughts were limited. Even brushing his hair out of his eye was too difficult for him. All he could think about were those dreams . . . or were they real? They felt real.

Dreams of walking through a desert with little water and trying to find a cienega; Dreams of being in a foreign country for what feels like years, using the time to learn their language; Dreams of fighting in wars and battles using a variety of weapons. Those and more were flashing through his eyes.

He remembered the pain in those dreams, but he knew he shouldn’t feel pain in a dream. He remembered his mouth and throat being so dry and how his body felt weak after using what little water he carried in the desert. He remembered days of starvation and getting beat up and not understanding why since he didn’t speak their language. He even remembered the cuts and shots he endured in those fights, and he even thought he had died in some of them.

Oh how he wished that they would go away and leave his mind in peace! He wanted to get up and, with what little strength he had, cut his head off if it would give him peace. But he couldn’t since there wasn’t anything he could cut himself with and, even if there was, his guts told him it was wrong. He didn’t understand why killing himself is wrong, but he knew he shouldn’t do it.

The werefox heard the door open and he knew who came before he saw her. She was Dr. Cygne and she would check the equipment hooked onto him and make sure that they were working properly and even replace a fluid bag if it was empty. He couldn’t see her properly due to the dreams flashing in front of his eyes and distracting him, but she seemed to be a nice person to him.

“Hello there sir,” Dr. Cygne said and then she checked the equipment. “Hmm. Looks like you’ll need to replace the nutrient bag. Let me do that for you.”

With quick speed she had took out the old empty bag and replaced it with a new full bag.

“Well, everything else seems to be OK. I also brought you a little gift.”

He felt her smooth hands go through his hair and brushed his hair out of his eye. He felt something clip onto him as she said, “That’ll keep your hair out of your eye. I’ll see you this evening.”

Dr. Cygne began to walk away, but stopped when she heard the werefox whisper.

“Thank you.”

Surprised, she had looked at the werefox, who was still looking up, and replied, “You’re welcome.”

Dr. Cygne then continued to walk out of the room quicker than usual. The werefox could only guess that she wasn’t expecting him to speak. He wondered if this means that the dreams will go away. He could only hope that it would be soon because he was sick and tired of it.

-----

Over the next few weeks, the images had faded into memory and the equipment was removed from the werefox. He was able to get out of bed for the first time in months. He was tired when he paced around the room for a few minutes and felt embarrassed about it. Since he wasn’t allowed to leave the room, he had decided to use the room as his training area in order to build up his strength. He did pushups and crunches and ran around the room and eventually the strength he had lost returned.

He was given real food again by Dr. Cygne three to four times a day. She at first only gave him food and left, but after a week, the two talked to each other. He would have her do most of the talking since he didn’t know anything about himself, not even his name. She was surprised when she had found out.

“How come you don’t know about yourself?” Dr. Cygne asked. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t know,” the werefox sighed. “Every time I try to remember, the dreams flood my mind.”

Dr. Cygne had left for the time, thinking deeply, leading the werefox to wonder what was she thinking about. When she had returned later, she just gave him the food and left. All through the night, he wondered if she was thinking of a reason on why he couldn’t remember. In the next morning, she looked saddened.

“What’s wrong?” the werefox asked.

“I had been thinking about why you can’t remember,” Dr. Cygne answered, “and I think I know the reason.

“What happened,” she explained, “is that, when you were connected to the Wiedzy, that’s the machine that implanted those dreams you were having,” (the werefox’ eyes widened at that part),”it caused a side effect I didn’t foresee. What happened was that it caused you to forget your memories and replace them with your dreams. In a way, your dreams became your memories.”

“So . . .  will I regain my memories?” the werefox asked.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Cygne admitted. “Maybe they will in a week, a month, or a year. Or maybe they’ll never return.”

The werefox was silent for a few seconds then asked, "Well, since I can't remember, can you tell me about myself?

"Sorry?"

"You know, like why I had sign up for having these dreams in my head in exchange for my memories? Where is my family and did they know about this?  Were my mom and dad an arctic fox like me? I mean, they can't be human, are they? Or maybe my mom's an arctic fox and my dad's a human. Or is it the other way around? Can I meet them when I'm done?"

The werefox then noticed that Dr. Cygne looked upset. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied and she told him about how was her day. He had wondered why she was upset that day. Every time he had asked, she would change the subject, so he gave up trying. But he had never stopped thinking about it and hoped that, when the time was right, he would ask again.

One day, while the werefox was doing his pushups, a man had entered the room and he sprang up in attention. His hair was brown with blond highlights and the werefox saw that his eyes were dark and cold. He wore a brown suit with a blue bow tie. His shoes were black and so polished that it hurts the werefox eyes when he saw them.

"Hello there sir," he said calmly which almost hid the glee in his voice, as if he had wanted to meet the werefox for a long time. "I'm Mr. Consilium. I've heard that you unfortunately lost your memories. I'm very sorry."

“It's OK sir," the werefox replied.

"I'm sure you are tired of living in this room for a long time," Mr. Consilium examined.

The werefox nodded, to which he continued, "We had made a new room for you, which, I assure you, gives you a weight room right next to it, will help you more at gaining muscles than doing pushups and crunches.

"But, before you go into your new room, follow me please and we'll do a test to see if the experiment works."

Mr. Consilium led the werefox out of the room and through the hallway. The werefox looked at the people they passed by with curiosity and noticed that they were surprised whenever they saw him. One woman gave a gasp, a man pointed at him with two of his friends, and another woman gave a disgusted look to him.

"What's with the people here?" the werefox asked.

"Don't worry about them," Mr. Consilium reassured. "The people here are a bit jealous of you doing this. Ah! Here we are."

They were in front of a door, which the werefox looked at with wonder. "What's in here?"

"Your new clothes," Mr. Consilium answered. "It it made especially for you. Go ahead and put it on."

The werefox looked at him for a couple of seconds before going inside. Mr. Consilium waited outside while the werefox was changing his clothes. After about five minutes, he exited the room, wearing similar clothing to the one he wore in his dreams except it had a belt on it too. The werefox felt confused, thinking about how they duplicate it from his dreams, and unease, since they reminded him of the dreams he had.

"What do you think?" Mr. Consilium asked.

"Felt stiff," the werefox replied in annoyance as he moved his arms with some difficulty. "Isn't there a looser version of this suit?"

"Sorry, but we believe a tight suit will increase combat abilities," Mr. Consilium told him. "If you'll follow me."

He then led the werefox through the hallway again with him asking, "Sir? I understand this suit is for combat, but why am I wearing it? It's not like I'm going to fight, am I?"

"You'll be put in a life or death fight," Mr. Consilium explained. "Since you have volunteered to join our experiment, we need to see if it really did create the next generation of soldiers."

"Me?" the werefox asked.

"Yes," Mr. Consilium answered. "We had implanted those dreams to see if they could raise your combat abilities to a higher level than usual. And the only way to prove that they work is to put you in a battle situation where you can die."

"So I really have to fight?"

"Not fighting. Killing. We need to see if you have what it takes to be our next generation of soldiers."

"And I have to kill my opponent?" 

"Yes, for a true soldier never lets them live or else they'll come back for revenge."

“I see," the werefox said. "Will I get a gun?"

"We'll give you a katana we had specially made for you," Mr. Consilium told him.

"Why? I mean, a samurai sword is cool and all, but a gun is definitely mightier than a sword."

"Because we feel that a sword will show your strength much better than a gun since anyone can use the latter equally while the former shows who's stronger."

"Great. . . . First, I'm wearing a suit that limits my movement and second, I'm fighting with a sword. What else that will make the fight tougher?"

"You'll fight ten people," Mr. Consilium answered, which made the werefox stop walking.

"Ten!?" the werefox protested. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

Mr. Consilium turned around and looked at the werefox. "No. We're trying to prove that you have what it takes to be the next generation of soldiers. By putting you in a position that few people had survived, we'll see if we have made you one of the few. If you aren't, oh well. Now, follow me please."

The werefox followed, though he still looked at Mr. Consilium furiously, and they went to door, which Mr. Consilium opened, and entered the room. The room was small and empty except for a table with a glass case that held a katana in it. It was still in its sheath with the hilt covered in green shagreen.

Mr. Consilium opened the glass case and picked up the katana. He then handed it to the werefox, who noticed it was rather light in weight. He then slowly unsheathed it and carefully swung it around.

"It's good that you are careful with tools like that," Mr. Consilium remarked. "With a good swing, one can cut a person in half vertically."

The werefox sheathed the katana back and discovered that the scabbard was able to connect to his belt. So he connected it there and they walked out of the room. They then traveled down the hallway and down the stairs to a couple of floors, at least underground to the werefox senses, and though that floor hallway until they came across a steel door.

"Though this door," Mr. Consilium told the werefox, "is where you'll test your skills and see if you are worthy of being the next generation of soldiers. I cannot enter the room with you, but I'll watch you from above. Good luck and God speed."

Mr. Consilium then opened the door and beckoned the werefox to enter. He did, but not before he gave Mr. Consilium a dirty look. Though he could have known what he was signing up for when he joined this experiment, he had a feeling that he didn't know about having to fight someone he didn’t know. After the werefox had entered, Mr. Consilium closed the door and locked it.

The werefox looked around the room and saw it was a big cubed room, at least a million cube feet large. The floor and the ceiling of the room give out heatless light, making it safe for the werefox to walk on. On the other side of the room there was another steel door that was three times wider than the door he entered through. The walls were painted white on the lower half while the upper half was painted black.

After a minute has passed, he heard, from the upper half to his right, a voice he could not identify clearly said, "Is Mr. Consilium coming now?"

"Yes, general Bulhond. Hello Mr. Consilium."

"Hello Mr. Tolle. General Bulhond. Dr. Cygne."

The werefox’ ears perked up as a voice demanded, "Mr. Consilium, why am I here? You know I-"

"I know general, but I feel that you must watch it and maybe you'll change your feelings. Doctor, are the lights ready?"

"Yes, they'll be ready to be turn off."

"What? Wait a minute Mr. Consilium! How can we see him when the lights are off? Heck, how can he see his opponents if the lights are off?"

"The glass we're looking through, Mr. Tolle, has been designed to let us see the other side in heat vision, letting us see their body temperatures. As for our foxy friend, you'll see his abilities soon."

"Um, OK. How about his opponents? How did you get them to fight for us?"

"By offering them seventy thousand if they fight him and half a million for the one who kill him. We only give them the money after the fight and if they die, we keep the money. They are too mesmerized by the amount they could get that didn't think of a possible chance that they all might die, especially if the experiment was a success."

The werefox was a little confused since couldn't believe of a chance that he might live, but a voice there said, "Let's begin."

The door on the other side of the room slowly opened and ten people entered. Three of them were women while the rest were men and they all wore the same suit: black with a black tie and black shoes with  trifocal night vision goggles on their head. They were all holding hand to hand weapons; four of them were holding katanas, five were holding longswords, and one was holding a pair of throwing axes.

They seem to be surprised by the werefox, as if they weren't expecting him. He wondered why that it as they surrounded him, each pointing their weapons with the one man swirling the axes around. He unsheathed his katana, which caused them to take a step back, and wielded it with two hands. He lifted it in front of his head horizontally, looking at the people behind him with the reflection of the blade, and waited for the first one to strike.

The lights then turned off, making the room pitch black, yet the werefox could still see. All the colors were gone and were replaced with black and white coloring. The green on their goggles were glowing in a gray color. He didn't understand why he could still see them as clearly as he could, but he could and was ready to take advantage of it.

So he stood there, waiting, until the man on his left swung his longsword at him. The werefox reacted immediately and blocked the attack. He then quickly counterattack and struck him from his right shoulder to his left hip. The man screamed in pain as blood sprayed out of the wound and stumbled backwards until he fell on the floor.

Another man with a katana tried to strike the werefox from behind when he was busy with the first one, but the werefox quickly spun around blocked the attempt. He then cut the man’s throat at the Adam's apple. The man grabbed his own throat, gurgling, until he collapsed on the ground, with blood pouring onto the floor.

A woman with a katana also attacked the werefox from the side, but he grabbed the arm holding the katana and he cut it off. She screamed in pain as she fell down to her knees, grabbing the stump of her arm. He then stabbed her on the chest and through before pulling it out, causing the woman to collapse to the floor.

A man with a longsword tried to stab the werefox from the front, but the werefox quickly moved aside while grabbing the man arm and forcing him to stab another man with a longsword behind the werefox. The man looked up to the werefox moments before his head got cut off by the werefox’s katana. Blood sprayed out and the two men bodies collapsed to the floor.

The man with the axes threw one of them directly behind the werefox’ head, but the werefox sensed it coming, spun around, and caught it with his left hand inches from its target. The man threw the other one and the werefox moved to the side and watched as it struck another man with a longsword who was going to stab him from behind. The werefox then threw the ax back to the man and it hit him squarely in the chest, causing him to stumble and fall backwards.

A woman with a longsword jumped up above the werefox, hoping to strike him. But the werefox saw her and quickly cut her in half with the katana. The woman fell down on the floor, with her lower half next to her.

The last man there with a katana swung it in an attempt to cut the werefox’ head off, but he ducked, causing him to instead cut off the last woman’s head off. The werefox then swung upwards, cutting the man in half vertically. The man’s halves then collapsed onto the floor, with blood pouring out profusely.

The battle ended and the werefox hadn't broken a sweat. There was some blood on his clothes and fur from his opponents, but otherwise he was unharmed. He shook off the blood off his katana and sheathed it. He then waited for the lights to turn back on as he listened to the people above him talking.

"My God! He slaughtered them all and hasen’t got a scratch on him!"

"Exactly as I'd planned, Mr. Tolle."

"Shall we turn the lights back on?"

"Yes."

The lights turned back on and the werefox had to cover his eyes for a few seconds before they adjusted. When he was finally able to see again, he saw the red blood on the ground in great quantity. Some of the people he had killed were still pouring out blood. It sickened the werefox, yet at the same time didn't affect him.

"Amazing. . . ."

"That's what I believe is in everyone’s mind now, Mr. Tolle."

"Not me, Mr. Consilium."

There was a sigh. "When will you let your prejudice aside general?"

"When he's no longer a freak of nature!"

The werefox was surprised at such words. How could he be a freak of nature?

"General, you know that a regular human doesn't have the senses of a werecreature."

"True, Mr. Consilium, but they don't need it if they got skill."

"Which is why we use him general:  to have both skills and senses."

"You mean changing  this teenage boy into that thing and giving him so many skills that he may never regain his memories Mr. Consilium!?"

The werefox was stunned. No, he could not have been a human before this experiment. He was a werefox and always will be one. He must have heard it wrong. . . . But something deep inside told him that it was true.

"The boy's dead general. He's now a werefox now."

"Which makes you all murders. You, Mr. Tolle for kidnapping him against his will, you, Dr. Cygne for changing into that thing, and you, Mr. Consilium, for planning all of this!"

"He's still alive, general. He's just different now. Besides, we can't change him back. It's permanent. Now, general Bulhond, we'll continue this experiment with the nine others I had planned and I would like it if you don't interfere, or else I'll make sure you'll lose your job as a general."

There was silence.

"Good. Dr. Cygne, you'll be helping us with the other nine."

"What? Mr. Consilium, I'd thought I'd told you that I'm resigning from this experiment!"

"And I'd rejected your resignation. You cannot resist since the guards are here to not only let most people out of this place, but also to make sure few people like you leave without my permission."

"But-"

"My plan must not fail, Dr. Cygne. I need you to make sure my plan is a success."

Silence.

"Good, now that everyone knows their role now. I'll go and take the werefox into his new room now. Good day."

The werefox didn't know what to think. He thought he was always a werefox and not a former human. He thought there were more, but it seems he was the first of the ten. He could not believe it all, but then he remembered Dr. Cygne’s reaction when he asked her questions about himself and his life before this. If he was a human, it would explain why she was upset: she knew he could not return home. He then recalled the people he passed by and the reactions of the people he'd killed when they saw him and he understood why that was so.

The door opened and Mr. Consilium opened the door.

"Nice job. But now it's time to go to your new room."

The werefox wanted to kill him right there, but he understood that there were guards here and they were sure to have guns. That must be part of a reason why he was given a katana: so he would be an easy kill if he ever resisted. So instead he replied in a defeated tone, "Yes sir."

-----

Dr. Cygne was looking at the screen connected to the werefox new room. The blue walls contrasted with the white bed, and the werefox’s gaze was pulled in the corner of the room, where a door opened on a training room. But she noticed that, ever since he had entered the room, the werefox had been sitting on the bed. Though his face was expressionless, she knew he was upset about something. It couldn't be about killing all those people since the Wiedzy effects removed any emotional response of killing someone. So what was he upset about?

Dr. Cygne heard someone enter and turned around to see general Bulhond, looking somewhat angry. He walked next to her and glared at the werefox.

"How could we let this happen?"

"Curiosity and the strived to be stronger," Dr. Cygne answered, sighing. "I have to ask. How did Mr. Consilium and Mr. Tolle get you to not reveal this to Washington?"

General Bulhond hesitated and admitted, "Apparently they had found out that I had covered up a death of one of the soldiers in my command when I was a colonel. Doubtless that, if they revealed that the death was a result of friendly fire instead of enemy forces, I'll be demoted."

"That was his idea to cause a scandal if you did not comply, not me nor both of us," a newcomer said.

Both Dr. Cygne and general Bulhond turned around and noticed Mr. Tolle by the door.

"So, Mr. Tolle, what do you have to say now?" general Bulhond demanded.

"Nothing but an apology," Mr. Tolle answered. "I didn't want to force you to stay silent by blackmail. I thought that we could convince you to willingly stay quiet and, if not, we'd  reveal this to Washington early, but Mr. Consilium insisted that we must show them ten and make sure you will be hushed without fault. I also didn't want you, Dr. Cygne, to be a prisoner here and be forced to work, but he won't accept another and decided to make you stay."

"Too late now," Dr. Cygne coldly responded.

"Understandable," Mr. Tolle said. "I admit I felt unease  at what Mr. Consilium was planning, but he has his ways of getting people to agree with him, as I'm sure you know too well."

"So why were you brought in and how?" Dr. Cygne asked.

"I was brought in," Mr. Tolle explained, "because of my great wealth and influences in the US. He knew it would be vital for this experiment to run efficiently. He convinced me to join so that, if his plan succeeds, then the US military will be able to really be second to none. He told me that, in recent years, this country has gotten weak; weak from the people’s wishes that we help everyone, weak from the brave dying and the cowards taking their place, weak from the lack of will to fight anymore. He told me that his plan will restore the US great military again."

"I guess kidnapping people, changing them, and seeing them slaughter a bunch of people changed your mind," general Bulhond remarked in a disdained tone.

Mr. Tolle nodded. "Even if it does succeed and we become the greatest military power, I feel it's best to stop the plan."

“And how do we?” Dr. Cygne demanded. “Because, from the looks of it, Mr. Consilium has got us all.”

“I’d been thinking about it,” Mr. Tolle answered, “and I think I  have a plan.”

Both general Bulhond and Dr. Cygne were surprised by that.

“What it is?” Dr. Cygne demanded.

"First, since you're considered too valuable to the experiment’s success, we'll smuggle you out of this building Dr. Cygne," Mr. Tolle explained as he walked to their side. "It would slow down  the experiment’s progress, but it will not stop it. You made enough notes so that it can still continue, according to Mr. Consilium, but with some trouble. We need to destroy them."

"So how do we destroy the notes?" general Bulhond demanded.

"Doubtless that he'll keep the notes close to him, but with all this security, it'll be difficult to get them, so we need a diversion. Plus, with all the machinery here, it can help Mr. Consilium continue the experiment without you and he could have copied it into a computer here. So, to do both, we need to set this place up to explode."

"What!?" both general Bulhond and Dr. Cygne nearly shouted.

"It's the only way we can create a diversion big enough so that everyone, even the guards, will be distracted enough to get Dr. Cygne to escape and for us to get the notes from Mr. Consilium. It'll be a small explosion at the labs and, after we are far away from the building, we'll destroy it completely."

"And how do we cause an explosion without causing attention?" general Bulhond demanded. "Last time I heard, an explosion big enough to destroy a building makes a huge noise. No one can ignore it."

"We're far away from the nearest city and road, so the chances that someone can hear it is rather little," Mr. Tolle answered. "And even if someone did report it, whether if that person was a drifter or was working here, this is my building and I can choose to not have people investigate here and I have enough money if they need a little persuading."

"That's good and all, but what will happen to him?" Dr. Cygne pointed out, looking at the camera filming the werefox, still sitting on his bed.

Mr. Tolle sighed and said, "I had thought of two things. One is to euthanize and burns his body and the other is to take him with you Dr. Cygne."

"I think it's best to put it down," general Bulhond declared.

"But that's murder!" Dr. Cygne pointed out.

"You mean changing a person into that thing wasn't?"

"I admit that it's trickier to take him along too," Mr. Tolle said. "I think putting him down is the best plan."

"But-"

"Dr. Cygne, we had kidnapped, destroyed, and rebuilt  him into a werefox. I think, even though he doesn't knows it, he has  suffered more than enough and it's time to give him peace. Besides, with him looking like that, there's no way he can fit back into society. He would be ridiculed for looking like a beast (which wasn't his fault) and euthanizing him is the best case scenario. Worse case: he'll get murdered or commit suicide. Where will he go? The woods or the deserts?"

Dr. Cygne, who had her mouth opened, closed it, swallowed, and said, "I . . . understand. I don't like it, but I understand."

"Good," general Bulhond remarked. "I think I'll be the one to do the job. When shall I do it?"

"As soon as we can," Mr. Tolle answered gravely. "Mr. Consilium is already looking at our lists of recommended people for the experiment. It won't be long until he chooses nine of them."

"Then I might as well do it now. Dr. Cygne, the sodium, pleases."

Dr. Cygne, rather reluctantly, left the room and, after five minutes, she returned with a syringe filled with sodium. She then gave it to general Bulhond, who left with it. Dr. Cygne and Mr. Tolle then watch the screen, waiting for the general to appear.

After five minutes had passed, general Bulhond had entered the werefox room, looking rather stern and perhaps a little nervous. They watch tensely as he talked to him and prepared to inject the sodium in him, but the werefox then said something to him. Something that caused the general to move the syringe away from the werefox. Dr. Cygne and Mr. Tolle looked at each other in surprise.

"Why didn't he do it?" Mr. Tolle asked.

"I don't know," Dr. Cygne replied.

They looked back into the screen and saw the two there talking to each other. Dr. Cygne noticed that, by the second, general Bulhond looked more fatigued. Finally he said something to the werefox that made him looked surprised. The werefox seemed to ask a string of questions to the general, who only replied once. The werefox then stood up and raised his hand for a shake, which general Bulhond surprising did. The general then left while the werefox went to the gym there.

When general Bulhond returned to the two, he looked like he was ready to collapse.

"General Bulhond, what's wrong?" Dr. Cygne asked as she and Mr. Tolle took him to a nearby chair.

"Just . . . stunned," general Bulhond replied as he sat to a chair. He then held out the syringe and let it slip off his fingers and falls onto the floor.

"What happened in there?" Mr. Tolle demanded. "We saw you about to do the job, but didn't do it."

"I told him that we had decided to end this experiment and destroy every evidence that it happened," general Bulhond explained, looking tired. "But since he himself was evidence, he must disappear either by death or be in hiding for life. I told him that, in a two to one argument, we had decided to kill him.

"But then he talked when I was about to inject that stuff in him. He told me that he understands now since he now knows that he was once a human and, in a world like this, he would be made a mockery, like what I did to him during that combat test."

"H-he knows?" Mr. Tolle stammered. "But how? We made sure he wouldn’t know the truth."

"Perhaps he overheard us and Mr. Consilium talking when he was being tested for combat," Dr. Cygne suggested. "Foxes do have much better hearing than humans."

"Is that how he was able to kill him them all without having to see?"

"Well, that would help him sense an attack that was out of his sight, but I had his eyes set up so that, in the dark, his eyes are able to see, but just in black and white."

General Bulhond nodded and said, "After he said that, I held off. I sense something . . . human about him now. So we then talked and as it went on, I realized that, even though he's no longer human, his heart's still is. I . . . could not do it. So, instead I told him that I changed my mind and that we'll instead smuggle him out of here. I also told him that we'll help him live even if society wouldn't."

"He agreed, right?" Dr. Cygne asked.

General Bulhond nodded.

"So we'll smuggle him out too," Mr. Tolle remarked. "That'll mean that we’ll have to take him where people have a minimal chance of finding him. Good thing I have an ideal place for him to be since I'll be going there once this is over."

"Can we leave it till later?" general Bulhond asked. "I'm too exhausted now."

"Sure."

So general Bulhond was able to stand up from his chair and walk out of the room, much stronger than he was.

"Why was he so tired?" Mr. Tolle asked mostly to himself.

"I guess it's because of operational stress reaction," Dr. Cygne answered. Mr. Tolle looked at her as she continued, "It's like combat stress reaction, but affects military leaders like him. In fact, all of the symptoms are the same. It makes them unable to kill since taking a human life is heavy to one soul. I guess, seeing all the people he had to kill with his men and all the men that died under him, makes him unable to take a life that's so human to him."

"I think I understand. Thank you," Mr. Tolle said. "So, shall we leave for now?"

"Yes."

-----

The werefox was lying on the bed, waiting for the signal.

He had been told, a week earlier, that they were going to destroy one of the labs with a bomb and, in the ensuing chaos, Dr. Cygne would take him and they would escape in the least secure exit. He knew that, if one of the guards saw them, they would be sure to shoot to kill and he hoped that his skill with a katana was better than their skill with guns. It would also help them since they would have a gun themselves, leveling the odds a bit.

He then heard an explosion and he knew it had begun. He got up and took a glimpse of the camera watching him before he ran to the door, katana in hand. The door opened and Dr. Cygne was there, looking a little tired.

"Let's get out of here!" she told him.

The werefox nodded and they ran through the hallway with a lot of people there running too, not caring about the werefox nearby. There were a few close calls with the guards, but they were able to avoid them, some of them didn't notice them. They then reached the door out of there and they exited the building with no opposition. They ran to Dr. Cygne’s car, a blue Dodge Charger, which was a hundred yards away and they were about to enter it when-

"Hold it!"

Mr. Consilium was there, waiting, with a M1911 pistol in his right hand, pointing he muzzle at them, and a briefcase in his left. There werefox and Dr. Cygne looked at each other and, defeated, went side by side, raising their hands and looking at him.

"Very clever of you to blow up one of the labs as a distraction for your escape," Mr. Consilium remarked as he went close to them. "But I happen to be by the exit, talking to the guard, when it happened. I knew immediately what you were planning to do, so I waited here while taking the notes with me.

"I was hoping, Dr. Cygne, that you would be our architect for the next generation of soldiers that may or may not replace the human race. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but it's clear that you'll never help me now."

"When I became a scientist, one of the things I wouldn't be is a God of a new species," Dr. Cygne said.

"But you did create a new species, in our image too," Mr. Consilium pointed out, looking at the werefox.

"True, but I did it out of curiosity’s sake. But, seeing what I had done, learning what you would do to get what you wanted, made me realize that there are some things that shouldn't be learned."

"Learning how to evolve our species to a higher level?"

"There's no reason to. Our species is the dominant one on earth. Why evolve now in our peak?"

"So the strong can become stronger and the weak can become weaker. With this, we can finally be free of sickness, build muscles for doing little and much more."

"But then we'll be too dependent on it! Don't you see? If we get too dependent on something, then we'll die without them! If we take away the cars for one month, millions will die worldwide and the smallest impact will be to the people who drive them little or not at all! If we get too dependent on our ability to evolve, then we'll be stuck on whatever form we are in if that's taken away!"

Mr. Consilium sighed. "It seems we'll never get you to see eye to eye. At least we can continue if you're gone. I'm sorry, but you're fired."

The werefox realized what he was about to do and unsheathed his katana, but it was too late. Mr. Consilium fired one shot and it hit her squarely on the chest. He would have done the same to the werefox, but Mr. Consilium felt his blade on the skin of his neck. Mr. Consilium knew that, if he made any motion to shoot, he would be killed.

The werefox’s eyes were filled with rage, his breathing was fast, and he wanted to kill him so badly. His eyes looked at Mr. Consilium, whose face was filled with terror, and to Dr. Cygne, who was struggling to stay alive on the ground. Though he wanted to kill him, he decided to hurt him by cutting off his right arm.

Mr. Consilium realized too late and he dropped the briefcase as the arm fell onto the ground. He used his left hand to cover his wound as blood was spraying out of the stump of his arm, screaming. In his pain he fell to the ground, squirming.

The werefox kneeled to Dr. Cygne side, lifted her slightly, and asked, "Dr. Cygne?"

"I'm sorry . . . for changing you . . . into a werefox," Dr. Cygne said, struggling. "I'm sorry . . . for destroying . . . your old life. I-"

"It's OK," he interrupted. "I forgive you."

Dr. Cygne seems to be more peaceful now that he said that.

"Thank . . . you. . . . Now . . . run. . . . Run . . . away . . . from . . . this . . . place."

Her eyes closed and she breathed no more.

The werefox stared at her body for a few seconds and, after casting a murderous glare at Mr. Consilium, he picked up the briefcase, sheathed his katana, and took the car keys from her pocket. He then opened the door, put the briefcase in the back seat, and drove away.

---- Six Months Later ----

The werefox was sitting on his chair, reading a book called <u>The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers</u>. The home he was living in was a dirty when he found it, with dust all over the place and some parts falling apart, but it was cleaned up. The place was made of wood along with the furniture and the bed. He wondered when it was built and what happened to the original owner, but wasn't able to find out.

As he put his book on the table next to his broken hair clip and his revolver, a Colt Peacemaker .45 LC with wolf grips on it, he remembered what happened six months before.

After the werefox had escaped, the building he was experimented in had been destroyed. All evidence, except for the briefcase he still had, was lost. Because of this, there was no way to continue the experiment and only Mr. Consilium suffered.

General Bulhond and Mr. Tolle then smuggled him out of the country and into the outback of Australia. The nearest town was 30 miles away and this gave the werefox privacy. Mr. Tolle, who was staying there, visited at least once a week with supplies and was the one who helped repair the house and gave him the revolver. He would also give him new clothes and books to read.

The suit the werefox wore at the building was thrown away and instead he wore new clothes. He wasn't wearing his brown hat or his poncho at the moment and was instead on his chair, he wore a pale blue shirt with dark blue jeans and a sheepskin vest.

The werefox was picking up his book again when he heard footsteps outside. He knew it couldn't be Mr. Tolle since he came only yesterday and instead grabbed his revolver and put on his poncho. He had barely covered his gun with the poncho when the door swung open.

It was Mr. Consilium, with the same gun he used to kill Dr. Cygne in his left hand. His face was unshaven and he had a tan hat on.  His white shirt and brown pants were covered in dust and had a duster over it. His boots were also tan and covered in dust.

"I have been tracking you down for several months, with my missing right arm reminding me of what I had lost the day you escaped," he said, walking to him and pointing his M1911 pistol at the werefox, with a smirk on his face. "But now I have you exactly in the position that I wanted . . . and I had lots of practices shooting my gun with my left."

"I bet you have," the werefox replied and quickly lifted his Colt Peacemaker, cocked it, and fired.

Mr. Consilium stumbled back to the wall behind him as the werefox shot him four more times.  Mr. Consilium fell to his knees and struggled to get back up as he looked up at the werefox. The werefox stood up, cocking his revolver one last time, and shot him  in the head. Mr. Consilium fell onto the floor, dead.

"When you want to shoot, shoot," the werefox remarked to the dead body. "Don't talk."

He put the Colt Peacemaker on the table and put on his hat. He then went to drag the body of Mr. Consilium outside and left it about twenty feet away from the house, on the hot ground. Around the place were thin bushes and more dirt, spanning up to hundreds of miles (in every direction). He went back inside and, after a minute or two, he went out with a shovel and the briefcase.

The werefox then, for a few hours, dug a hole to put Mr. Consilium in, taking breaks to drink water. He dug deeper and deeper, thinking that he should leave him to be eaten by the wild dogs, but decided not to. He feared that, should anyone find the remains,  they could be traced back to him and it would be awkward to be confronted when he's a werefox. No, it was safer to keep it close and buried rather than away and on the surface.

Finally he dug a hole deep enough to put the body in. He jumped out, sweaty and hands covered in blisters, and went to Mr. Consilium’s body. He then dragged it into the hole and it fell with a thud. He went to get the briefcase and threw it into the hole too. Finally he buried them under dirt.

The werefox went inside, with the sun fading from view, and closed the door behind him. He washed his hands and took a drink of water while wiping off the sweat from his head. He then took off the hat and poncho and sat down on his chair to pick up the book and read more.