There was movement through bushes, only forty meters away. A laser edged display zeroed in to compute vectors. This was something else Sid found disconcerting, the fact that his actions where continually choreographed by an unseen computer. It took a fraction of a second to designate the momentum and size to be that of a small forest animal, possibly a rabbit. It was quite harmless, but Sid still considered shooting just for the hell of it. There was no point though, they had killed dozens of such creatures through out the days hunt, a hunt that Gripes had assured them was essential to their survival. Sure, he had said, they weren't hungry yet. But when they did get hungry, then they would know about it.
Sid didn't doubt his words. Even now as he lay motionless in the mud, he could feel his metabolism eating away at his last meal. When he was rushing into action, he felt on fire. No, he didn't feel normal at all, either at rest or at play. He felt compelled and propelled by technology he didn't understand, sure he knew what to do and how to act, but he could not for the life of him remember how he had learnt such things.
Take his position for instance, as soon as Gripes had order him on watch, he had known the best position to conceal himself and at the same time was aware of the vantage it offered. All details had occurred naturally, without need for thought, if he didn't know better he could have sworn that he had been jungle fighting all his life. He had even unconsciously gathered loose foliage, enforcing techno bred concealment. Automatically he knew that every bit helped, going so far as smearing his face with mud.
Besides estranged tactics and generic information, he also knew other facts. Facts to do with the workings of all his equipment. He knew how to repair every item, he had even unthinkably grabbed the abandoned tool kit upon awakening. Gripes had told him that he had been designated as the auxiliary technician, responsible for equipment maintenance if Con was at all disabled. He could only hope that would happen, not so he could take over the position. No, he just hated bitter sparkheads like Con. He could still feel the sting of that unprovoked shot in the butt.
Sid felt great. Sure he had run almost all night long and in the back of his head he knew he should have been feeling the strain. Instead he felt invigorated, flowing with lively energy. Sid was hot, sure who would not be after a marathon like that, but his armor was well designed with minute ridges circulating air as he moved. The run had been cool, it was a shame to see it come to an end. He had some how felt right during the trip past the city, content to just watch his footfalls and mind his own way. Even the long expected first wave had not disturbed the moment, automatic glare compensaters had ensured that even the closest explosions had not hindered him for an instant. His path had been clear and he had run on full of confidence.
Killers had no use for body fat. It was an inefficient way to recover stored energy. Instead their bodies converted all food into a nutrient rich protein solution that was stored within a bladder. From there the fluid was an integral part of a killers complex life support. It was pumped through out the body by the auxiliary heart, a complex network of veins circulated the liquid as well as nanobots. As it circulated it did more than feed working muscles, it also cooled the body, dumping heat through the thick dermal layer and into the waste products. It was impossible for a killer to sweat. They were all designed to be impervious to the effects of chemical, biological and nuclear weapons. Everything was self contained, there was no leakage.
He lay motionless on the tracks for the few seconds it took to review his systems integrity. Five of the nine bullet had punctured through to his lungs. Lungs that where compartmentalized and working at ninety percent efficiency. It just hurt when he inhaled that's all. Two more bullets had embedded around his shoulder bone, severing a few arteries, nothing serious. The last two bullets had barley made it through the dermal layer, so Sid didn't think about them. No, he was fine, nanobots had already begun to classify the specks of metal that dotted his body. He realized after a bit more thought that he still had his camera in his hand. That was good, maybe he had time to get a shot of the kill.
The depth of the cut had laid bare the structure to the bone. He had immediately noticed that the bone was plated with titanium. Possibly an alloy similar to those used in the rejoining of severe fractures. Sid felt that he had never conceived it's use through out the entire bone structure. The regrowth necessary was phenomenal, something that helped account for their size.
The inch thick skin was a laminate of compact dead cells, discoloring through out denoted ballistic layers. As a result skins shaded through the group from Rile's light mustered yellow to Gripes' dark brown. Bellow the dense skin the muscles moved with verile energy.
The muscles were something else. Their cell structure was phenomenal. Like normal muscle they where formed from linked organic cells. Burning up energy and reacting to nerve impulses. Similarities ended on closer observation, a glimpse at the cell matrix revealed much. Lavish and extreme, giant cell boulders expanded and contracted within an overwhelming web work of compact body tissue. The resultant genetically engineered muscles could push and pull in any direction. They had carbon hardened tendons to direct the force and interwoven fine arteries to ensure life. They where effective no matter how much damage they sustained. From experience Sid knew the strength of such muscles could outstrip the heavily anchored tendons. Unluckily the organs where unstable, the cell structure was continually at war with itself, a war that it could not win. Like Gripes said, six months.
There were other, more subtle changes. He was sure his hormone levels had been tampered with, and secretion glands where greatly unbalanced. The amount of adrenaline that coursed through his veins was phenomenal. It had taken him a while to dredge up a comparison, when he did it had come from Rile.
During the hunt he had spied the grinning monstrosity playing with a terrorized rabbit. He watched it buck and heave, immersed in it's immediate fate. For such a small bundle, it fought hard, contenting Rile with the joy of a struggle. In many ways Sid felt like the rabbit, but his fate was not so obvious. He was driven towards danger, not away. Concealed within his mind was a scared little rabbit running for it's life. Beyond that Sid could not fathom it further, knowing only that it was not natural when in many other ways it seemed all to natural. All the time his microprocessor's where guiding him with suggestions on what to do with the excess energy, suggestions that he ignored. He knew he really wasn't in danger, not from his immediate environment anyway.
There's more, but that's all I am sparing for the web.