Tempus

Tempus- Prologue

If I had to explain my twisted life, I could easily blame someone else. I could say my 'accident' was my parents' fault. My poor, misguided parents,who I have not seen since my baby years. Certainly AGS should be at fault. But see, I've long stopped blaming my problems on others. It doesn't help. It doesn't magically solve your problems, it just makes things worse.

My story starts nearly thirteen years ago. I was one, and my mom and dad were young scientists. Normal scientists, with normal jobs and normal lives. The company they worked at, however, was not normal. If anything, it was the epitome of weird and freaky.

AGS was, supposedly, a project which specialized in in the researching and development of artificial gene synthesis. That basically means they were trying to create fake DNA, and make people from it.

That, however, was only the cover story. I'm convinced that the project creators had watched one too many superhero movies, because they had the completely orginal idea of trying to create supersoldiers. Not just enhanced strength, speed, and stamina men like Captain America, but incredibly powerful, almost omnipotent puppets, that would bend to their will.

Several people would have unfortunate 'accidents', and would be whisked away, without a trace. A few whispered phone conversations and deleted emails later, you wouldn't even be able to find proof they existed. And when those people would finally see the light of day again, they would be very, very different.

My parents, eventually, got suspicious. They smuggled out a sample of the foul smelling, garishly coloured, liquid the higher ups had carried around while lording over those of lower stations. When they got home, my babysitter and I were waiting. My parents cooed over me for a few minutes before running off, "to make dinner." They left their work bags on the wood-and-glass coffee table.

I was a toddler, and up until then, I had never been denied anything. I crawled over to the table, pulled myself up. I glared balefully at the items the seemed to be the center of my parents. How dare they take the adoration and attention that belonged to me. I would have no more of that.

I swiped weakly at my mom's bag. A glass vial tumbled out, and promptly smashed open. My parents were too occupied with "cooking" to hear the tinkle of breaking glass; I inched forward, studying the rabidly pooling, swirling gold, silver, and pink liquid, and wrinkling my tiny nose when I breathed in its putrid smell.

I touched the fluid curiously, gasping in awe and delight when it sank into my minute fingers. My gaze transfixed, I failed to notice the golden glow expanding from me, or the sudden shaking over the house.

I couldn't have missed, however, the silver cuffs that latched to my wrists and sent a protective gold shield around me. The house's shaking grew more violent, until it abruptly collapsed, swiftly silencing my parents. Through all of it the barrier stayed, until in retracted suddenly. I looked around. I was alone