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Don't worry, this is only filler. You don't _have _to read the previous parts first! But unlike most filler episodes from your favorite animes, this is actually coherent to the plot. Kinda. Happy reading! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~FRANCIS WESTFIELD~~~

~Two months after Z-Day~

"Here's the info you wanted, Frank" Curtis said as he handed me a plain folder. The way the papers were arranged inside suggested that he had thumbed through them as well. It really wasn't a concern of his as much as it was mine, but Curtis was curious like that. He's the only human HAC employee that I know well enough to consider a friend, so I would've shared this information with him anyway, just to strike up a friendly conversation. You've got to have some people to talk to in this apocalyptic world, or you'll go mad in no time.

"Thanks, Curtis. But if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, call me Francis. I hate 'Frank.'"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Force of habit, I guess. You should consider yourself lucky that you have a sneaky guy like me as a friend, though. If the HAC higher-ups found out I was sharing this information with you, they'd probably turn me into 'Subject Omicron Twenty-five' or something... But anyway, I was looking through these myself as I walked over here, and all I can say is that you're gonna have a_grand 'ole time_with these guys."

Something in his voice suggested that I actually won't have a grand 'ole time with the two hybrids that will become my new teammates, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and began skimming through the first page. How bad could they be?

I read the important parts out loud: "Harrison Allan Morris; Subject Delta Four... Cheetah DNA... Abilities include basic pyrokinesis and teleportation, yadda, yadda, yadda... Here we go: 'Based on an invisible month-long psyche evaluation session, Delta Four has proven to be quite energetic and optimistic, the latter being a trait not commonly shared by most other hybrid subjects. He is self-described as a 'fun-loving guy', and has certainly demonstrated this point to its fullest. However, he lacks self-control and often rushes straight into situations without pausing to consider a strategy, as demonstrated by his initial training sessions. It is because of this that he will not be a candidate for team leader, as a constant clear mind is a requirement. Overall, he is one of the best results of the Delta series, bar Deltas One, Three, and Thirteen.'"

I paused to reflect on Harrison's profile. A person that's as reckless as this evaluation says wouldn't be considered a good soldier based on my experience, but I'm sure I can iron out his flaws and bring him down to earth if I'm made team leader. The rest of the profile was technical and scientific jargon that I couldn't make heads or tails with, so I decided to skip over to the other hybrid's page.

I offered the first one to Curtis. "Did you want to reread this?"

He shook his head. "Nope, already got it stored up in here" he said as he pointed to his head. "I'll tell you right off the bat that a guy like him will annoy the CRAP out of you, Francis. Try not to get too pissed off and impale him with a stalagmite or something."

I chuckled at that while starting to read the other page. "Duly noted, Curtis. Duly noted. Now, who's this other guy?"

"Hooo boy..." Curtis said in a tense tone. "The other guy's just... Well, I'll let you read it for yourself."

Again, I read the important parts out loud: "'Gregory Martin Ossland; Subject Omega Three. Successfully infused with sample DG-115; hyena DNA. Abilities include level two speed burst generation, and an experimental form of ferrokinesis. This grants him the ability to control most metals on a molecular scale, though only through physical contact due to the sample's unfinished nature. Recent observations show that he has a preference for creating swords of various sizes, which, coupled with the aforementioned speed bursts, have proven to be very effective combination in field testing. Currently, he is in the top ten percent of all hybrids in terms of overall strength and performance.'"

I quickly gave that paragraph a mental re-read. "Impressive. I have the speed burst ability as well, but this guy really knows how to use it. He's definitely being considered for team leader, I bet."

"Keep reading..." was all Curtis said.

"'However, based on an invisible month-long psyche evaluation session, Omega Three has shown to be constantly reclusive, depressed, and is prone to violent outbursts when disturbed. It is rumored that his behavior was brought on by severe trauma when the outbreak began, and given the circumstances, this seems highly likely. Regardless, he has proven to work very well in groups and handles large tasks admirably. Overall, his performance speaks for itself, and as a result he is being considered for position of team leader.'"

Okay, that was a game-changing paragraph indeed.

Now I paused for a second to reflect on Greg's profile. Clearly this hybrid knows what he's doing out on the battlefield, and even if he's made the leader instead of me, I'd love to see where it goes for us. It's just his negative attitude that worries me... But I've seen my fair share of PTSD, so I can almost tell what Greg must be going through. If he ever warms up enough to talk about it, I'd bet the farm that he was another unfortunate victim of Z-Day. Specifically, the kind of victim that's not in a literal sense, but a metaphorical one.

I could only imagine who he must be grieving over...

Curtis waited until I concluded my train of thought after reading both profiles. "So, do you think you can handle these guys? You've got the energetic, happy one, and the powerful, yet gloomy one."

"And, as you keep reminding me, I'm the serious one, right Curtis?"

He smiled at that. "I know you all too well, Francis. But a serious attitude is the perfect balance between theirs, I think. The three of you will definitely be an item as time goes on."

"Hopefully, yes" I said in agreement. "

Just then, we were both interrupted by Curtis' pager going off. He unclipped it from his belt and sighed upon checking the number.

"Another transformation's going on... Fifth one of the day, I believe. You can tell by the different pitches of screams that come out of those pods... But regardless, they need me down there. Remember to destroy those files after you've had your fill of reading them."

"Will do" I replied.

Curtis walked towards the door, opened it, but rather than going out, he turned back around with a concerned expression on his face.

"Did--- did it really hurt that much when it was you in there? I know it's something I never really asked you before, but at times like this, it's always on the top of my mind."

So THAT's the question he's always wanted to ask me. I KNEW he had one like that...

"Do you really want to know?"

Curtis' concerned expression turned serious. "Yes. Yes I do. Remember, I'm partially responsible for what goes on in there, and judging from everything I've seen and heard, I'd be upset with myself if it was really THAT bad for everyone."

I thought of how to best explain the process to him. In the end, subtlety was impossible to include. "Imagine that your blood is boiling, every single spot on your body is being probed by a rusty needle, and your eyes and ears feel like they're going to explode. That's about the gist of it."

His eyes went wide. And since living proof of that description is standing right in front of him, Curtis knew I wasn't exaggerating.

"My God... No wonder everyone passes out halfway through..."

I tried to reassure him. "But don't worry about it, it has nothing to do with you. The process happens as it does, and can't happen any other way. But for someone like me, it was well worth it. I essentially got my entire life back. You know what I mean, of course."

Slowly, a smile returned to Curtis' face. "Heh, I still remember wheeling you into that room two months ago,Frank..."

~One week after Z-Day~

"Welcome to Human Advancement Companies, Mr. Westfield. I wish I could keep up the formalities, but we're on a very tight schedule right now. I'm sorry, but I can only give you the short version of what's going on here."

"That's fine, I understand. I'm pretty sure the entire world's on a tight schedule as well..."

The man in the suit, who only identified himself as Reynolds, certainly looked like he was in a hurry to get this 'warm welcome' over with. I didn't blame him, given that hordes of zombies were still practically banging on HAC's front doors at this very moment.

Conversely, I was calmly sitting in my wheelchair, though I was still not used to its firmness. On top of that, my legs were _killing_me. It felt as if a constant flood of pain flowing through them, just like my own blood itself. Hopefully, whatever experiment I was going to be a part of today can fix my legs and let me get back to doing what I do best; fighting for my country.

Or in this case, whatever's left of it...

"Anyway," Reynolds continued, "You had previously mentioned that your injury happened in the line of duty when you were in Afghanistan. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir" I replied.

Reynolds smiled to himself, not because of my situation, but out of pride. "I'm actually a veteran myself, Mr. Westfield. I served two tours in Vietnam and took a few hits as well, so I know how hard the road to recovery is first-hand. If you don't mind, could you tell me exactly what happened? It's not relevant to our current situation, but I'd like to know personally, from one vet to another."

Oddly, I didn't feel hesitant to relive that one painful experience at all. If it was anyone else asking me, then I'd consider brushing them off or changing the subject. But this man knows EXACTLY what I went through, so instead I feel inclined, even_privileged_to tell him about it. Even if I thought he was lying about being a veteran, the slight limp in his step confirmed it for me. An easy thing to notice when your head is closer to the ground than normal.

I took a deep breath and began to explain. "It was about two months ago, right in the middle of nowhere. Me and my unit had been tracking down the same insurgents for months, and had finally closed in on their base of operations. By the time we completely cornered them, a firefight broke out, but it was over just as quickly as it started. We weren't Seal Team Six or anything like that, but it took them five minutes to realize who the better shooters were."

Reynolds nodded his head in understanding. "But it didn't end well for either side, did it?"

I sighed deeply and continued. "No sir. The last insurgent standing_appeared_to surrender, but it was actually a surprisingly well-laid trap. Me and my friend Adam Jarvis went to apprehend him, but we didn't notice how the other insurgents had booby-trapped their own bodies with explosives. Call it insane, call it martyrdom, it didn't matter to us once we heard a faint, ominous beeping coming from under their clothes. I remember how time slowed down for me as I tackled Jarvis out of the way with all my strength, just far enough to put him out of harm's way. But I wasn't as lucky. Neither was the insurgent, but he knew he'd blow himself up anyway."

"Christ... You're a brave man, Westfield. Damn brave..." Reynolds said. His expression was a mixture of shock and respect. "What was the extent of your injuries?"

The burning sensation in my legs wasn't letting up any time soon, so I was constantly rubbing them to try and ease the pain away. "I won't bore you with all the medical information, especially since I barely understand most of it myself. What I know for sure is that the shrapnel from the explosion shredded most of the muscles in my legs, but luckily they were the only part of me that got hit. The problem now is that they're constantly hurting on the inside, and I can barely even move them at all. I can stand, but I can't walk for more than a few steps. The pain becomes too great."

The doctor pushing my wheelchair cleared his throat. "If I can interrupt this conversation---"

I didn't even notice he was listening until now. "You may" I replied.

"---The experiment you're going to be a part of involves rewriting your DNA and cellular structure itself, so there's a good chance of it completely curing your near-paralysis."

I thought that over for a second, then turned around to face him properly. "A good chance, but no guarantees?"

The doctor shook his head. "Only one way to find out, I'm afraid."

~~~

Slowly, I started to come to, waking up from one of the worst experiences of my entire life. The pain of millions of pieces of shrapnel annihilating the muscles in my legs had NOTHING on what I just went through. As I opened my eyes, the light was unbearable at first, but I gradually adapted to it. Some parts of my body were a little numb, though there was no pain in my legs. If they were still messed up, then there would be a huge surge of pain as soon as I put pressure on them.

No time like the present to find out.

For right now, it was the only thing on my mind. I didn't care what I had become or how I looked, all I wanted to know was if my entire body was back to working order. But just then, I turned to the right and realized that I was being watched by the doctor who wheeled me through the facility earlier. He took a quick look at the clipboard he was holding, and smiled.

"On your feet, soldier."

Wait... That must mean...

With great care, I swung my legs to the right and touched the floor, taking a deep breath before using my arms to push myself off the bed to stand up. I clenched my new, sharp teeth involuntarily, but it was unnecessary.

There was no pain in my legs. Still some numbness, but no pain!

I took a step. Then another one. And another one. Ten steps later, everything was still normal.

The doctor followed me through the room. "Success?" he asked.

"The pain... It's gone! I'm WALKING!"

He patted me on the shoulder and offered his hand.

"My name's Curtis Jackson, by the way. I know Mr. Reynolds already said it, but welcome to HAC, Frank."

Still in pure bliss, I shook his hand. "I can't thank you guys enough. You've given me the best gift I've ever gotten!"

I stopped to face him.

"But please call me Francis. I hate 'Frank.'"

~~~

Due to a family emergency, this Origins chapter took a couple of days longer than it should've. Sorry 'bout that, everyone. We're all fine over here, though.

Next week, Chapter 14 will make up for it by continuing the main story. And it will be AWESOME. Believe me, it will.

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