"Oh man.." Kent groaned, rubbing his head. He opened his eyes, seeing he was in the better room. His head pounded terribly, and his biceps hurt. Then he remembered what happened. Right after he was injected, he felt a wave of cold rage through him. Then something took over. Like an uncontrollable insanity and anger. He had almost no control over it. He remembered throwing the guard against the wall, and he wondered how he had the strength to do that.

   Kent sat up slowly, reaching on his back, feeling a sore bump. He must have been shot with a tranquilizer or something.

The door opened, and Dr Willims came in. He stood by the door.

"I am surprised you reacted so quickly to that," he said. "I am also surprised at the negative effect. You had no control over it did you? I could see it on your face. I know you would never be stupid enough to try and escape." A threatening look came in his eyes. "I did notice the impressive feat of strength you had, which is one thing I had hoped for. Now I want to test it again. Come along." He turned and strode out of the room, leaving the door open.

  Kent looked after him, surprised. But he didn't hesitate, and jumped up, going out and following him. Dr Willims strode down the hall, then opened the door to the first room Kent had woken up in.

"Go in. There will be a test."

   Kent went in, and the door was closed behind him. Almost immediately, Kent heard a whirring, and one side of the room began slowly moving in. He widened his eyes and ran over, putting his palms on it and pushed. But he couldn't budge it. A clanking alerted him, then a big man in a breastplate came charging at him. He had a long dagger in his hand that gleamed dangerously.

"AHHH," Kent screamed, ducking right as the dagger slashed over his head. He ducked under the man, coming up behind him. He wheeled back and punched, then screamed as his hand basically crumpled, clanging off the metal breastplate. The room was getting increasingly tigher. Kent was distracted by both his throbbing hand and the closing in wall, when the man turned and slashed. Kent had just tore his eyes from the wall to see the blade come down. He moved and leaned back, but not fast enough as the blade caught his cheek, then tore across the top of his bicep. He stumbled back, falling on his butt. He just threw himself to the side, rolling over when the man's blade crashed on the ground, just a few inches from him. Kent leapt forwards, kicking the man's legs. But it did no good. He wasn't strong enough. Kent held a hand over his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. The man sneered down at him, raising his dagger, about to bring it down, when a loud, cold voice came from a speaker on the wall. The man froze, dagger held high, then slowly lowered it, putting it in its sheath.

"Lucky kid." He spat, trodding on Kent's free hand on his way to the door. Kent lay there, his teeth gritted, clutching his arm. The door opened, slamming against the wall, but Kent didn't even look up.

"Stupid boy, how did this happen?" Dr Willims voice rang out. "You had strength yesterday, where did it all go? You should have been able to at least hold off the wall from moving, and could have easily taken out the guard!" His voice was shrill.

"I don't have have the strength. You saw me hit the guard." Kent groaned, adjusting his fingers which were now sticky from the blood drying.

"Yes, I did, but how is it gone?!" He shouted, frustration in his voice. Kent didn't say anything, but listened to Dr Willims shoes pat back and forth across the room.

"We will keep trying." Dr Willims said after a moment. Then he left the room. The big man came in, and not to gently wiped Kent's cut and crudely wrapped a bandage around it. Then he was lifted and carried to his room. The man tossed him on his bed as if he were a doll, then slammed and locked the door.

+×+×+×+×+×+

The same process continued for two whole years. No, not the same experiment, but the failed experiments. Kent would be injected with something, react quickly and sometimes violent, showing the attributes Dr Willims wanted to see, but then when he was tested for them, he would find they were gone. Same with the strength, he lost the speed, the endurance, agility, even the heightened senses he was injected with. They just would be gone within hours. And Dr Willims was furious every time.

  The many tests they put Kent through hurt him. He achieved a broken arm, crushed foot, cuts and bruises basically everywhere, the worst serving to be a pretty deep slash across the chest. Every morning he just ached, but had learned to live with the dull pain. But through it all, he kept his resolution and never cried.

   Kent became different to. His personality and emotions became hard and demeaning. His attitude was dulled. He no longer cared for anything. Even the thought of his family didn't matter to him anymore. He became snappy with the Doctor and guards, and he didn't care if they punished him. Pain became a thing he could deal with pretty well. He kept pushing on, no matter what. Even the doctor said he was amazed Kent was still alive. But Kent could tell the doctor was getting annoyed and impatient. Two years of study, injections, and tests, proved futile as Kent developed none of the traits. He heard the doctor screaming about how it should have worked, how it should have not failed, but again and again, they did.

  Kent sat up, pushing his hair from his eyes. It had grown long, and only once had they hacked at it when it came to just above chest length. Now it fell just above his shoulders, uneven and dirty. His eyes to, changed from over time from a light blue, to a flat, dark, and emotionless grey.

   The door opened a crack and a plate of food was shoved in. It was scant, as it had been for days. And for days they had left Kent in this room. That was not a good thing either. For the past two years there wasn't a day where they hadn't taken him out and did some sort of experiment. But it had been three days without so much as a word. And the food had gotten worse and sparse. As much as he hated to think about it, the truth came like a punch to the stomach. He was a test subject, but nothing was working. So he was essentially worthless. And they were going to get rid of him. How, he didn't know, because they could have just starved him. They must be getting something ready.

  Kent stood up, yawning. He was now taller than before, but the majority of his growth was stunted due to all the strains on his body, so he stood at a height of 5'8. He went over to the window, looking out onto the warehouse below. It was dark. No lights were on except for the lab behind the glass window. Peering at it, he could make out a person standing behind a table inside. Dr Willims presumably. Kent could make him out mixing something. A lightish liquid in a beaker. Then suddenly, he shouted, and hurled it at the glass wall. The beaker shattered, and the liquid ran down the glass, sending water streaks running down it. Then he marched over to a cabinet and pulled out more stuff. He slammed them on the counter and began mixing them. This time is was a black mixture, which looked thick and sticky.

   Kent walked away from the window, bewildered. What was he making? It didn't look so good. Neither did Dr Willims. He was angry, by the way he threw his beaker at the wall showed he was.

  Kent lay on his bed, staring in thought at the ceiling, when his door slammed open. Kent sat bolt upright as Dr Willims came to stand right beside the bed. The white lab coat he was wearing was stained with who knows what, and he had a mad look on his face. Worst of it all, he was clutching a scary big syringe in his hand that contained the black liquid.

"I'll tell it to you straight," he spat. "You've been no good. We've used you for two years and bought many expensive resources hoping you'd be the perfect candidate, yet you are useless. Nothing has worked on you, and proving from our data, nothing ever will. This-" he shook the syringe, "this is your final injection. It will end you." He gave Kent a crazed smile.

  Kent's eyes widened, and he went to stand up, but Dr Willims was faster, and smashed his palm into Kent's face, forcing him back down onto his bed. Then he grasped the syringe like a dagger, jamming it down into the center of Kent's chest. Kent screamed as he felt the needle puncture, then he felt the substance seep into him. It felt like lava, burning as it went in, and burning as it began to slowly spread over his body.

"Good bye Kent." Dr Willims said, in a haughty tone, running out the door, locking it behind him.

  Kent rolled off the bed, screaming in pain. This was the worst injection yet. Even worse than the first one. The substance seeped into his bloodstream, slowing it. It felt like fire in his body that kept burning and burning. He fell onto the floor, his body racking in spasms. It felt like his muscles were tearing, and his bones were cracking. Waves of immense heat and chills ran flashed over him, one then the other.

  Then suddenly the worst pain he had ever felt came on. It started from his chest, slowly searing out in all directions. When it reached his head, he felt like it was going to explode. It throbbed, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Then he almost blacked out, his body going completely limp. He even stopped breathing for a minute. Then, gasping, his breaths came large and heavy, his chest heaving up and down. The pain somewhat went away, and he opened his eyes. Something was different. He felt a new, almost sense of power. A smile for whatever reason crept on his lips, and he laughed, a haunting, insane laugh. The pain was almost welcoming, like a power burning through him. Kent slowly pulled himself up, grabbing hold of the edge of the bed. The metal post of the bed bent towards him, and Kent looked at it, surprised, yet a part of him looked at it like it was natural. He looked at it, a smile stretched on his face. He pulled himself up the rest of the way, going to the mirror and gazing at himself. His face was calm, a smirk set on his face. His eyes, normally dull, now had a certain sheen to them. He laughed insanely, punching the mirror, and it shattered into a hundred pieces of glass that flew around him and clattered to the floor. He had punched the mirror so hard, he had broken through the back, and left a fist shaped indent in the wall. He pulled his hand back, expecting it to hurt, but it felt fine. Indeed there was some cuts from the glass, but he didn't even feel them.

   Kent wheeled around when the door slammed open. Three guards rushed in, pointing guns at him. Dr Willims came and stood behind them, a fake smile plastered on his face. Kent stood there, his chest still heaving, feeling the burn of the chemical race through his body.

"Kent, Kent!" he said in a cheery tone, clasping his handsin fron of him. "How you've improved! That substance did wonders! Why, I thought it would kill you."

"Oh you didn't think, you intended for it to kill me." Kent growled. "You didn't want me anymore so you created it. Don't think I didn't know you wanted rid of me. Barely feeding me, keeping me in this room for days, then injecting me. I know the thick stuff was meant to shut down my blood flow, wasn't it?" He spoke so sharply that Dr Willims flinched, then returned it with a look of hatred.

  That look came on Dr Willims face came to quickly for him to hide.

"Insolent boy," he spat. "It doesn't matter. You have improved. Now we will do with you more than we ever have. You are a soldier. You will bend to our will." A greedy gleam came over his face.

"I will not!" Kent shouted. He launched himself at the doctor, but he had just enough time to slam the door shut. Kent grabbed for the handle, but it was locked. Slowly, he turned to look at the three guards that Dr Willims had abandoned. They looked at him, a small flicker of fear in their eyes. One had his gun trained at Kent.

  Kent looked at him, and let a snicker out. "You wouldn't dare shoot me." He taunted, taking a step closer. "I'm to valuable. Dr Willims wouldn't be very happy with you."

  The guard trembled, but didn't say anything. Kent took another step closer, his hand resting on the post of his bed. He bend the post downwards, then squeezed it together, the metal creaking. The guard made a choking sound in his throat, then fired. Kent found that he had expected it. He ducked forward and down quickly, rolling onto his kneee right in front of the guard. With one quick movement he sprang up, lauching himself into the guards chest, and both of them went sprawling to the floor. Kent grabbed his gun from him, squeezing it so tight it snapped. Then he rolled on his back, sprang up, and grabbing the guard by the collar, thrust him up, and slammed him against the wall. The wall had cracks running in all directions when the guard fell to the floor, unconscious or dead, Kent did not care.

   Kent ducked down as a gunshot echoed in the room. His hand brushed on a chunk of glass that lay on the floor. Quickly, he grabbed it, standing and hurling it with all his might at the guard. It sank deep into his neck, and the guard reached up, clutching it, a gurgling noise echoing in his mouth. Kent looked towards the last guard, and he trembled, dropping his gun and running to the door. He beat on it, begging for someone to help him.

"There's no help for you." Kent said darkly, grabbing a thin piece of glass. With all of his rage mustered, he threw the glass, so hard, it shot through the man's chest and clear through the other side, burying itself into the door as the guard fell backwards to the ground.

   Kent looked at the door. He had heard pattering of footsteps and realized guards must be lined up in the hallway, waiting for him to come out. But he wasn't coming out. That way at least. He ran over to the window. Grabbing a bar with both hands, he planted his feet and pulled it with all the might he had, the muscles burning in his arms. The bar bent a good distance to the left. Then he took a step to the right, grabbing the bar next to it, and pulled it. This one bent to the right, creating a pretty good sized gap. He stuck his head out, peering to the ground below. Hard concrete, about ten feet down. But that or either who knows how many guards. Kent took a deep breath, and jumped.