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[B]The Weapon X Facility, Canada
The Summer of 2018[/B]

The men at the controls wound up their tenth marionette
And ground his gears against their second,
who fought more viciously than the first had
but had come up short a bit more than a tad.
His howls rang in the ears of Weapon X's third,
who was by far the stronger man, though less learned.
Their third fought like a lion, though his shortcomings
were long enough that Ten snatched him out of the running.
The third would've drowned in his own blood if not for the fact
his lungs were taken to be used as a sanguine wine sack.

Doctor Cornelius was amazed that the fourth
had an enviable path compared to the fifth's course.
Their fifth Weapon was once a man reminiscent
of their tenth killer, given how he was creative and efficient.
Yes, it was the fifth that made the tenth soldier of Weapon X
break a sweat, the fifth made him flinch and had made him flex.
But despite the merit that their fifth weapon had displayed,
he was decapitated and his fighting spirit quickly decayed.

Weapon Six had a sinister smile plastered on his face,
and he blasted like a ball off the walls, all over the place.
He was a fast one, he tripped the tenth weapon up like a vacation planner,
but he destroyed himself in a blast of nonchalance with a casual manner.
His very arrogance burnt his chances like a napalm covered idiot,
and his failure left his body in ribbons, though he fought harder than obsidian.

Weapons seven and eight wisely united, presenting an attack that was coordinated,
but their target didn't taken well to being cornered, in fact he grew quite frustrated.
Though he'd been ambushed many times, they weren't something he could appreciate.
Anyhow, he was more than willing to reciprocate--yes, he'd readily retaliate.
The arena was a mess of slishes and slashes and snikt's.
The tenth weapon picked them apart like a seasoned critic.

Just as a young lion sharpens his fangs on the bones of the old,
Weapon Ten shattered Nine like a steel cube through a circular hole.
Stubborn as a goat, the ninth refused the tenth's orders to fold,
so he loosened the tenth's fangs, tired of being bullied and being told
that he would lose, that it was the will of God that he would fall,
because he'd told told the first eight the same, telling each one as he told them all.

Weapon Ten howled victorious, standing tall over than the rest
All agreed he wasn't particularly nice, but at what he did he was the best.