I was a child soldier born to kill
We were born into captivity without a name, and, based on our blood types, assigned to various divisions as controllers or agents. The company enhanced our psychic abilities, our physical prowess, our mental acuity as well as our senses of comradery and morality. We were given miniature sized pistols, rifles, flack jackets and other equipment made specifically for children to carry out our deadly missions. Those of us who were lucky enough to be killed in action had an early retirement, while those of us unlucky enough to live, were plunged deeper and deeper into the programs. I was a child soldier, trained to kill since birth, sent half way across the galaxy to recover technical secrets for the conglomerate.
Our team was the best of the best, developed, indeed, cultivated to function as one, as a group of psychics, military scientists, expert killers and supreme tacticians. We were unrivaled, with nearly a one hundred percent success and survival rate, totally unheard of in the programs at that time. As such, our team was given special privilege, in between the one sided onslaughts, far more allowances afforded to us than other classes who perished in battle.
When we were off duty, we would be taken anywhere we wanted, always together, ready to be recalled at any time. Thankfully, we were only activated for the most dangerous and serious of jobs, often times, for jobs that previously costed the lives of other former teams. We were a family, functioning as one, so intimately connected, it was as if we were the same person who rarely even needed to speak. It was a bitter sweet time in which I can still recall fondly and yet with great remorse.
One day, after getting much older, in what would be our crowning achievement, we were ordered into the transport, to an unknown location in which many other teams were killed trying to recover an ancient weapon. There were many riddles that required solutions and all the pieces had nearly been put together, save for the last and final act.
In the briefing we were told that there were two other competing teams of unknown origin, vying for a secret weapon on a distant planet. One team was composed of humans, utilizing known technology, but from an unknown Earth organization, without markings or signifiers. The other team was composed of an unknown humanoid species, with an unknown origin, with advanced weaponry, who seemingly did not feel pain.
After weeks spent evading and collecting intelligence, research and formulation, we discovered that the unknown humanoid species was planning an attack on the unknown human team representing an unknown Earth organization. In various skirmishes, we had posed as the unknown human team, on purpose, sometimes in full view of the unknown species with advanced technological artillery. We slowly cultivated a special confidence in the unknown humanoid species that ultimately necessitated their attack and led to their total annihilation.
We managed to cover our tracks and signals, posing as the other unknown human team, and it was our opinion that both military organizations of unknown origin did not suspect the return to the planet by the conglomerate. Eventually, we discovered the final location of the object and set our plan in motion. The final battle was brutal and savage. The unknown human team was being cut down mercilessly by advanced energy based weapons neither of us had ever seen. As the humans were nearly all killed, we attacked on the far side of the unknown humanoid species, boxing them in suddenly. The species had no idea that a second human team was on the planet and they perished that day, quietly and without emotion. We were still dressed in our costumes posing as the other unknown human team, and, when the other team saw us attacking, they yelled as if we were their saviors, as if we were sent in as reinforcements. Little did they know that they were about to die just as quietly as their enemies.
We recovered the weapon and headed back to the transport, victorious and without casualties. Our commanding officer followed behind covering our approach. It was a standard extraction. Suddenly, a member of the unknown humanoid species appeared, we never found out how, and opened fire at my commanding officer, gravely wounding him. He ordered me to secure the weapon and leave him behind. I yelled that I would never leave him, but it was too late. We left him there on that distant planet, crippled and in full view of the alien. We recovered the weapon. No one ever knew our names. No one ever knew what we had done.
It was just another operation, one of many that our team endured silently, without recognition or proper burials, even without names. Eventually, we grew old and our time had come. The low ranking officers who did not have as stellar accolades were thanked for their service and executed, while the higher ranking officers, like myself, decorated with full honors, were offered a complimentary severance package. Only two of us made it out of the programs to collect our retirement, myself and my counterpart: the bravest woman I had ever known.
Our minds were shattered, erased and totally mutilated so that we would never divulge the untold secrets we had encountered along the course of our illustrious careers. After the procedure, both she and I were allowed to live, taken to a big American city like New York. We were brought to a secret facility that operated in the public under a false pretense. We were given clothes and some change and discharged merely as mentally ill homeless individuals. I can still remember what I used to say after the procedure, after being let back out into the world, “we should have gone back for him, we could have gone back to the planet for him.”