Unit 99722

Unit 99722



“Father, I don’t want to do this.”

Jonathon stood to his feet that were once placed straight across a surgical table. Jon looked around at the crimson room and watched as the light from the window slowly began to fade away. It was getting dark out; the time that they said his surgery would take place. Jonathon’s father stood tall in a dark blue suit with white patterns on the shoulders, knees, and waist. Jon looked up at his dad, knowing him only as father, or Unit 73011.

”Sit down, son. Everything will be fine,” said Jon’s father through a muffled vocoder that lay inside his helmet.

Jonathan sunk his head into his hands, pulling his hands through his hair and sliding it backwards. Jonathon’s hair was long, and needed to be cut. Since it was so long, it began to get greasy and dirty. Later today, Jon was told that he would be receiving his hair cut, his final one. He didn’t know exactly what his “last haircut” meant, but he was sure that he wouldn’t take pleasure in receiving it.

Jon loved his hair; he would play with it daily. He would twirl a bunch of hair into one string and feel around, enjoying the softness of it. He would bundle it up and flatten it out, making his hair stand straight up in the air. He would brush his fingers through it in an attempt to make it poofy, into a ball.

“Father, are you sure this is the right thing to do?” said Jonathon, doubting his father’s actions.

“Yes, now sit down before I make you sit down,” the muffled voice came again through his mask.

Jon laid his legs back on the table, making them as long as he could as he waited for the surgeon. He leaned his head to look at his father but quickly closed one eye as the door in front of him opened up, and a gleam of light passed through. He turned his head around, looking away from the almost too bright light that was now fully in the room. When Jon had gotten used to the light, he turned his head back to see what had entered the room, and quickly widened his eyes.

“Hello Jonathon,” said the next muffled voice that stood at the front of the room, inside the doorway.

“He-hello, who are you?” asked Jon, even though he knew that the man was obviously his surgeon.

“I am Doctor Peters. Please, sit up so I can examine you closer.”

The doctor walked over to Jon as he slid his legs over the table once more. The doctor put his hand over Jonathon’s eyes to blind him from what was happening. At this exact moment, the doctor stuck Jonathon with a needle in the back of his neck with a red fluid. Jon yelped in pain, but was suddenly lethargic and fell backwards onto the table.

Jonathon’s father then stood up and left the room as Jon listened to the squeaking of his boots on the wet floor. Jon slowly closed his eyes and passed out, not knowing what would happen next.

The surgeon laid Jon on the table correctly and began to push the table on it’s wheels to his destination. The back left wheel squealed loudly as it was slightly above the floor, and than the rest of the wheels. The cart was pushed through double doors and into a dark room, with hardly any light at all. The only light visible was a small twisted lamp that stood in the middle of the room, shining on an assortment of surgical tools and a surgical table.

The doctor flipped Jonathon over onto the table, onto his back, and turned his head to the side. He put a small tube inside of Jonathon’s mouth that would relay oxygen from a tank in the room to his lungs, during the operation. Immediately, the doctor began to prepare. He snapped on a surgical mask and a hair cover to protect anything that might fall off during the operation.

The doctor clicked his fingers and a team of blue suited men ran in. The men instantaneously began to prepare as well, doing the same as the lead doctor. The lead doctor and his team of surgeons hovered over the backside of Jonathon. They leaned in and took a look, imagining what they would be doing during the surgery.

The team began to set up the patient, taking off his clothes and strapping him down to the table. They tossed a blue cover over the limp body and cut out a square around what they would be operating on; which so happens to be directly on his back. They taped around the outside to keep the blue blanket in place, making sure that nothing could disturb the surgery.

“Scalpel, please,” asked the doctor to one of his team members. One of the members then instantly handed over a sharp metal scalpel, which shined in the only light in the room. The doctor held the scalpel up high in the air, smiling at it.

“We are making history, here. What we are doing has never been done on Earth before. And today, team, you shall witness the making of a new man.”

The doctor placed the scalpel into the back of Jonathon, watching a small amount of blood pour from the cut that he made. The doctor carefully and skillfully cut around the backbone, which soon revealed the inside of Jonathon’s body. The team helped carry a metal implant that would be placed in Jonathon over to the table. They carefully placed the object into Jonathon’s back and attached parts of it to his body.

When the task of putting the object in place was finished, the team helped patch Jonathon back up. The deed was not done, however. There was much more to do. The team helped flip Jonathon back over onto his back, which was now completely sewed up. The team prepared once again by placing the sheet over him and taping it down. This time, the spot of surgery was at his rib cage and shoulders. The team finished and continued to his feet, then thigh, and then head.

After a massive surgery, Jonathon’s process was finished. The team celebrated with a cheerful clap and many smiles. One member proceeded to inject Jonathon with another red fluid, as the men and women celebrated.

Almost immediately, Jonathon’s eyes opened wide, bloodshot with pain. The team was distracted by a successful operation that they did not notice as Jon swung his new, half-metal body off of the table. He hit the floor with a loud bang, as his metal parts clashed against the tile.

The team turned to see what was happening, and saw Jon laying face first on the ground. They rushed over to him to try to help him up, but the first one to touch him was flung halfway across the room, into some of the surgical equipment. The other team members stared with amazement and fright.

Jon rose to his knees, then to his feet, as he stared at the doctors huddled up across the room. The team began to run, as one of them grabbed a phone hanging on the wall. Jon dug his hands into the table that he was once laying on and picked it up above his head. He flung the table at the doctor using the telephone and watched as the man fell to the ground, bleeding. The rest of the team hid in fear as Jon towered over them.

A bell above the double doors leading to the room rang aloud as a team of over ten men ran into the room, all dressed in blue suits with gas mask helmets on. They all reached for their waistbands and pulled out a two-foot long stick that sparked with electricity. Jon looked at the men and their weapons, before giving a wide smile. The ten men charged at Jon with the stunsticks and began to beat on him, one by one. Jon fell to the ground, weak after the surgery.

A few hours later, Jon awoke from his slumber with many large bruises on his body. Jon looked around the room, no longer angry, and saw his father sitting beside him.

“What has happened, father?” asked Jonathon to his father, even though he already knew what he had done.

“Sleep. It’ll be good for you,” his father said. Jon then closed his eyes and fell into another deep sleep, wishing for his pain to go away.



The next day Jon woke up with a horrible pain in his head. He quickly brought his hand to the side of his head to feel what was wrong, but didn’t find anything. He began to scratch at his head, clawing at the inside, for that was where the pain was coming from. Inside of his head. A loud scream echoed from his room, as he could no longer take the pain. Jon passed out once more, falling flat on the bed.

A week went by and Jon didn’t move once. He laid on the bed attached to many tubes and wires as a monotone beep flashed through the room. Jon slowly opened his eyes, expecting a horrible pain in his head, but he did not feel anything. Jon touched his forehead and wiped off a drip of sweat. His feet swung over the table as he sat up on the bed, looking at his feet. His big toe was broken on his right foot. He tried to move his toe, but it didn’t budge. For some reason he felt no pain in his toe and stood to his feet. He looked up, through the door in front of him, and then looked back at his toe. It moved. He wiggled it and it moved.

Jon looked up at the doorway again to see his doctor standing there. He had a large white bandage on his head, the spot at which Jon threw the table at him.

“Jonathon, can you hear me? Jonathon? Are you feeling okay?” said the doctor, wondering about his condition.

“Yes,” Jon said through a deep and barely audible voice. He picked up his hands and grabbed onto his throat, wondering why his voice was not the same as it was before.

“That would be the new vocoder that was placed in your throat. We can’t have you speaking in a humane way, now can we?”

Jon looked at the doctor straight in the eyes.

“What did you do?” he asked, still clenching his throat. The doctor moved around the room and took a seat in the only chair that was there.

“We did a multiple amount of things to you, Jon. But we basically took out as much human in you as we could, except for your brain. We did actually add a few pieces to your brain, though. We added a chip that will help you become more intelligent, smarter. We also added a barrier inside of your skull, almost like a helmet on the inside. You will be immune to stab wounds, now. But the thing that we did that I admire the most, is we made you into a soldier.”

Jon looked at his hands as he brought them in view of his eyes. He stared down at his fingers and clenched them together, making a fist.

“I feel better than ever before,” Jon explained. “I don’t know how to thank you, doctor.”

“Don’t thank me, thank the people that did this for you. The CCA paid for all of this. You owe your life to them.”

Jon took a step towards the door, looking at the doctor as he did. He nodded to the doctor and walked out of the room, walking to the front door of the hospital. As he walked through the doors, light shined into the dark hospital that lit up the whole front office. Jon looked around at the city, and especially at the Citadel.

A short man walked up to him and pointed one finger at Jon.

“Are you Jonathon Hickery? Come with me, please.”

Jon nodded and began to walk with the man, even though he didn’t know who he was. The man led Jon all the way to the Nexus, a large black building that stood high above any other building in the area. They walked into the front office together and looked around. Out of nowhere, Jon was shoved into a wall and had a bag placed over his head. He didn’t resist, knowing who the men that did this were. It was the Civil Protection.

They began to lead Jonathon through multiple doors, hiding his eyes from the path that they were taking. They pushed him every once in a while, in a way to show who is superior. They finally stopped, and Jon was pushed onto his knees. The bag was taken off of his head and Jon could see again. He squinted, as the light in front of him was bright in his eyes.

“Jonathon. You are finally here,” said another muffled voice from directly in front of him. Jon looked up at the man standing there. He was wearing a large trench coat that fell all the way to the ground. He had short black boots on that only reached up to his shins. His dark pants were tucked in at the bottom into his boots.

“Stand up, now.”

Jon stood to his feet, wobbling at first, still getting used to his mechanic body. The man that was standing in front of him had a black gasmask on him, to hide his identity. Dark red eyes beamed from inside of his helmet.

“The Combine Civil Authority needs you for a position, Jon. You will be stripped off all of your clothing and put into a new suit; the suit that will stay on you for the rest of your living life. You will also be stripped of your name. You are no longer Jonathon Hickery. You are now Unit 99722. Welcome to the CCA, Sector Commander.”

Jon had no idea what to say, and just stared into the man’s eyes. Just opened his mouth, and only two words came out. “Yes sir.”

A group of men grabbed him from behind and brought him into the room next to where he was. He no longer needed to be blinded from his path, since the Nexus was now under control of him. The room he was brought to was full of lockers, each one of them with a different set of numbers. The group of men pushed him forward, aiming him towards the one locker in the front of the room. The locker that stood in front of him was labeled as “Unit 99722”. It was his locker.

Jon opened up the locker and saw a clean suit wrapped in plastic. He picked it off from the hook on the inside and looked at it. It didn’t take long for Jon to get inside of the suit. He loved the feeling of having a secret identity. Jon walked around the room in his new suit, with no helmet on. He smiled as he stomped around, getting used to the boots.

Finally, he ended up in front of a mirror; one that was shattered down the middle, obviously by a fist. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. His face has been changed during the surgery. It had been damaged and destroyed by the pieces put into him. There was a very large scar going from the side of his forehead all the way across. He stared into the mirror, and then turned away. He didn’t care anymore, because no one would ever see his face.

Jon put on his helmet and looked at himself in the mirror once more. He smiled under the mask and began to laugh. The laugh grew as he walked out of the room, looking around at the men under his rank. The men saluted him, all standing in a row. He continued to smile, knowing that he was on top of the world.

He could do anything he wants to, now. He is all-powerful. All mighty. All-star. He is the best of the best. The strongest of the strong. The fastest of the fast. And he was, Unit 99722.