Any ordinary person would never have survived the kind of lifestyle I have. No way, now how! Now, I being mostly unhuman have survived nearly perfectly.
I am a human crossbreed experiment. One of the very first kinds to survive this long, and I'm only fifteen, I think.
They took a human baby cells and basically mixed in other cells, animal genes, just to see what would happen. And something odd and somehwat extraordinary did occur. And that thing would be me.
I have raptor vision, so precise and detailed I can see a car from two miles away and tell you what kind it is.
I have perfect hearing as well, like a dog or something, I guess. I guess that'd also explain why my canine teeth are more, well, canine, and my sense of smell so acute.
I can run as fast as 60 miles an hour, like a cheetah, and have a whole lot stamina. I see in the dark (owl) and can climb trees like nobodies business. I've been trained to hunt, to kill, and not just kill animals.
I was raised to be the perect soldier and assassin.
I was raised in a top secret lab facility in the thick, dense woods of Germany. I spent many long hours in training. I ran twenty miles every morning and every night. One thousand push ups, sit ups, and crunches after my daily runs. Then breakfast, which usually consisted of eggs, lots of veggies, lots of fruit, all genetically enhanced like me. They were enhanced with more energy, protein, and vitamins, making me one of the healthiest people alive.
Now, the meals may sound amazing, right? Because is that is what you would base your stay at a lab for then you are wrong. W-R-O-N-G, wrong. Other than those eleven hour training days, and the five minutes I was given for each meal, I was locked up in a cage, an electric cage, no less. It was small, made for a medium sized dog (or small person such as myself) and was cold and metal. My own personal prison cell, also equipped with barbed wires and electricity.
And yes, the food was spectacular, but I was fed in pretty small porportions, especially for someone my age. I'm like, freakishly skinny, I'm 5'4 and weigh 79 pounds. But I am strong. Boy, am I strong. I can lift three hundred pound over my head with only one arm, six hundred with both arms.
I was a perfect target shooter by the time I was four. I was practically born with a gun in my hands. Next, they introduced me to bows and arrows when I was five. Natural is how they explained my talent for it. Natural. I hate that term, in my situation at least. That means I'm a natural killer, and I hate killing people. They always sent me out to do their dirty work for them, which always consisted of me being dropped from a helicopter in the middle of the woods, my tracking device permantly stuck in my left arm, just below my elbow, clutching a gun and a bow, a whole lot of arrows on my back.
Then, it was up to me to murder whoever it was that the labs wanted dead, whether it was an AWOL experiment or an old enemy, even a business rival sometimes. I do admit, it's quite exciting when you first find the person, and that usualy takes a few days. The most riveting part is when you've got them locked up, just the two of you in a room, telling them why you're here and what they've done to upset the labs. Then hold up your weapon and wait for them to cower down, beg for mercy, which they won't get, of course.
Pull the trigger. Release the arrow. They release their final word or, in most scenarios, scream. Walk away as if nothing happened, weapons hidden, and wait at the spot that the scientists dropped you off at. Within minutes you hear the helicopter flying to retreive you.
And how I explained this doesn't quite capture what I previously told you, about how I hate killing people. Because while it's all fun and games while you're hunting your prey, you're human prey, the guilt I feel afterwards its unbearable. Just the fact that you took someone else's life away so you can live longer seems wrong, and it is wrong, but it's the only option I have.
The guilt never has too much of a chance to seep in and stay, though. Because the training and five minute meals are always back the next day, and life must go on as always. All the work I do manages to keep my mind off the previous days murder. And even so, I never have to think about one person I've killed for more than a week at most, because by that point I've already been assigned another human to assinate.
I admit, though, I do love the thrill of being assigned a new person, and everything leading up to their death is pretty much a game to me. In fact, it becomes a bore after a while. Same routine every time, and my prey never change it up. But I beleive I'm doing them a favor. They have more than one option, you know. Either be murdered or be tortured back at the labs. If given the choice, I'd choose being murdered any day. I'm sure of it. There have even been times I've considered suicide, but the 'scientists' never leave me alone for more than 30 seconds at a time.
Now there you have it, my whole life story. I'd rather not dwell on that right now, though. I prefer to live in the present, not the past. Memory Lane always beckons to me, and for some reason I never refuse to take a stroll on it's dark, bloody sidewalks that are a mirror of my life.
