Metronome

The Canine Experiment

Pilot stared at the ceiling, itching to get up and move. He'd been asleep for a while; he could feel it. His muscles begged him to sit up and stretch, but he denied himself. He couldn't; he hadn't been told to.

Goode came over to him and spoke, asking him his name; or names. He had many, most of them he didn't remember. Any name that had clung to him from his former life had been long lost, along with most of his other memories. He answered promptly.
"Pilot," He said. "Or experiment number 237, the first of the canines. I have no other names." He felt a bit anxious; what if he missed one? What if he'd been given one recently and didn't know it? His eyes remained concentrated on the ceiling, blank.

The Canine Experiment

Addler, what's your opinion on the topic? =P

The Canine Experiment

I WAS playing with the idea of them using his DNA to create semi-clones.

Guys that are made from his DNA, but because whatever clones they made always turn out with messed up chromosomes, they had to use DNA from someone else as well.

Offspring, if you will.

Without the fun of having offspring.

Anyways, after the kids start getting their powers and Pilot begins to realize he may be outmatched, they have him train these guys to help him fight.

But the clones, being clones, are bound to be wonky and have far more weaknesses than Pilot himself.

Think Storm Troopers.

The Canine Experiment

You have to remember that Pilot also has guns.

A lot of guns.

His shifting would be used as a final straw regardless of what it looks like, because the nature of his missions are typically low key.

The Canine Experiment

I have several ideas of what Pilot's lupine form should look like, but I can't make up my mind. What do you guys think? Is there one you like? Or somewhere in between?

A

Something along the lines of this. A big, tall, almost 'furry'-ish wolf man. His hands would retain most of their dexterity, his clothes would be altered so that shifting doesn't tear them up.

B

Something more feral than A. He could still walk on two legs, but would be more efficient on all fours. Clothes could reasonably still be worn in this form. His hands would be useless for fine motor skills, such as holding knives or guns. He would use this as a last resort, mostly.

C

A big, hulking monster. Keeping this form low profile on missions would be pretty hard, so again, it's only used as a last resort. His hands would be too big to hold weapons, and he may be able to keep his pants, but any upper body shirt/armor/ect would be lost in the shift.

D

More wolf than man. He could forget about holding things, or maybe even walking on two legs. His armor and clothes would be lost in the shift; not sure how that would work out for our super soldier.

The Canine Experiment

Pilot didn't mind the sleep at all. The dark silence was almost comfortable. He was unable to count how long it had lasted. A few days, maybe? Outside of his mind, his body found itself laying on an exam table. He wore a pair of military cargo pants, black, and had been wearing a grey shirt before it had been removed and tossed onto a chair across the room. Little sticky monitor patches were placed all over his chest, keeping track of his breathing. Scientists rushed all around, preparing for his latest test. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would pass. Of course he would; he was perfect, after all.

As a needle was stuck into the crook of his arm, his mind suddenly felt like jelly being sucked out of a jar. It was dizzying almost. His heart rate gave a sudden, but not too concerning, spike. His eyelids flew wide open. They settled quickly, his dark eyes shifting to look up at the scientist looming over him. He didn't move. Pilot had played this game before. He'd learned the song and dance years ago. On test day, you waited for orders for literally everything.

Perhaps on an average day, he would have sat up, stretched, and, if he was feeling bold, even hopped off the table. But now he didn't dare move a muscle. He didn't want to fail a test; not again.

The Canine Experiment

There was once a time when sleep brought dreams. Dreams were nice, pleasant, and usually involved some kind of food. He used to love sleeping; lazing around all day. But sleep no longer brought dreams. If it did, they weren't pleasant. His sleeps weren't typical; they could last hours, days, weeks. When Pilot wasn't being trained, on a mission, or otherwise being used, he was in an induced coma. It gave him less time to sit around and think; he wasn't supposed to think.

When he was first brought in, when he was still the dumb kid named Isaiah, learning not to think was hard.

Straps across his legs, his arms, and his torso. The table he was stretched out across was particularly hard and uncomfortable. His eyes were wide with fear as guys in white coats lowered a funny looking helmet over his head. He was terrified; he cried, he struggled, he - felt nothing but blinding pain.

Training to obey orders, no matter how inhumane, wasn't easy. It hurt. Back in those days,

everything hurt.

He was left on that table for hours, days, possibly even weeks. His every thought was monitored, and the wrong thoughts brought punishment.

"Test number double oh two. You're name is Pilot, and you will do as I say."

[What the hell was that supposed to mean? Where's dad?]

Pain. Darkness. Alone. Sleep. A new day.

"Test number double oh three. You're name is Pilot, and you will do as I say."

[Who the hell is that guy and why is he calling me that?]

Pain. Darkness. Alone. Sleep. It went on for days.

"Test number nineteen. You're name Pilot, and you will do as I say."

[My name? What is my name? Pilot? Izzy?]
[Izzy.]

Pain. Darkness. Alone again. Another test.

"Test number forty three. Your name is Pilot, and you will do as I say."

[Pilot. Is that my name?]
[Yes. That's it.]
[Who is that guy? Why am I still here? Dad?]

Pain. Darkness. It seemed to never stop.

Nothing hurt much anymore. He didn't think the things he wasn't supposed to. He did the things he was told. Sometimes, if you get hurt enough times, everything just kind of goes numb. He didn't feel the prick of the needle that put him to sleep, for however long they wanted. He didn't care that they shipped him all around the country to be poked and tested on. He didn't feel the second needle poked into his arm to wake him up. He didn't ever know where he was, or why he was there, but he did know one thing for certain:

His name was Pilot, and he would do as they said.

The Canine Experiment

I may post later tonight.

Life's kind of being a bitch right now.

The Canine Experiment

Yes.

I tried to make him in an age group where he would have attended school with the other characters at some point in time. At least some of them should be able to recognize him.

The Canine Experiment

I mean, it's still 10 against one =P I feel like Pilot will be given a good fight.