Title: The Inferior Soldier

Origin: F.E.A.R. 2: Project Origin

POV: Alpha 1

Type: Horror/ hurt/ comfort

A.N.: Because I get too attached to characters that I create, I am writing this side story that will detail Alpha 1's past from the moment that he awakened to the moment that Becket encounters him at the end of Chapter 3 in the main story.

I wrote this to be a prequel for The Broken Soldier. This story will cover what was happening in the background during F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin. It will also elaborate on certain loose ends that I do not cover in the main story. So, if you like my main story, it might be worth your time to read this one too.

At the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one, when Alpha 1 talks about killing Becket, he does not realize that Michael and Sgt. Becket are the same person because he only knew Becket by his first name and there was no way that he could have recognized him.

Since the only insight into the Replicas (their personalities, how their programming affects them, their command structure, and even simple things like how they view the world) in the games is extremely limited and really only seen at the beginning of the DLC Reborn, I had to make my best guess on how to write from the point of view of one.

Read and review if you want.

Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin and all related characters and elements are trademarks of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. I claim no ownership of anything, except for my OCs, nor do I plan to profit from posting this. I hope this is enough to avoid legal action against me.

"Is something troubling you my friend?" My brother, Commander Becket, asked with concern in his voice. I grimaced beneath my cracked face. My commander had an annoying habit of being able to tell when something was bothering me even when I tried to hide it. It had been hours since we had returned from my brother's childhood home and we were currently in his office.

I shifted uncomfortably as I leaned against one of the walls with my arms folded against my chest. I looked at him through my damaged eyes that saw the world in a warm orange color as I contemplated whether or not to answer his inquiry honestly. I had been viewed as being inferior all my life and I did not desire to have finally found someone that I could think of as being family, only to lose their respect by making them think that I was inferior.

However, he seemed to sense the conflict in my mind because he smiled slightly before he assured me, "After everything that we have been through, it is impossible for me to think of you as being inferior."

Hoping that his words were sincere, I sighed before I started, "Sir, when people ask me what my name is…" I paused as hesitation momentarily robbed me of my courage.

My friend closed the manila folder that contained the file that he had been looking through and placed it off to the left side of his desk. He then leaned back in his leather chair as he focused his attention completely on me. The cold, emotionless soldier side of him left his personality as he said encouragingly, "It's okay…go on."

My nerve returned and I continued, "The reason that I cannot answer them is not because of my programming. It is because I am not certain who I am."

He nodded before he asked, "Well, who do you think you are?" I mulled over the question for a moment while my brother patiently waited.

Finally, I replied, "I am not sure, sir."

He shook his head before he instructed me, "Knock off that sir and yes sir crap. This is just a chat between two friends."

I smiled beneath my face in response. I continued, "Thank you, brother. I have been called so many things that I do not know who I am. Inferior, freak, killer, A0001, Alpha 1…truth is that I just don't know which one is my name."

My friend nodded slowly as he processed what I had said. After a moment, he said, "It occurs to me that I know very little about your past. Perhaps the answer that you seek is there."

His answer stunned me. As a Replica, I was programmed to not dwell on past events unless they were relevant to the current situation and even then, such thoughts were akin to being taboo. A knock on the door drew my friend's attention. His soldier side returned, indicated by his overall demeanor sharpening, and the dead look returning to his glowing orange eyes. He called out, "Enter."

Foxtrot 813 entered the room and swiftly walked to stand before our commander. He went to attention and saluted. Becket saluted back and Foxtrot 813 dropped his right hand before he reported, "Sir, Bravo 2 has been released from the infirmary and has reported to Lieutenant Stokes."

Becket replied, "Understood. Inform Stokes that I will submit the transfer request by 1200 hours. Dismissed."

Foxtrot 813 saluted one more time before exiting the room. As soon as the sentient Replica soldier, I myself being the only other one, walked out of the room, the soldier side left my commander. He returned to looking at me with brotherly concern. I started, "I was born, like all the other Replicas, in the Perseus Compound." I let myself get lost in my memories as I recounted my life to my commander.

I opened my eyes to find that I was floating in some kind of container. Needles attached to narrow fluid-filled tubes were stuck into my nude body at various spots. Transparent, ice-cold fluid surrounded me but a respirator was attached to my face so I could breathe. Panic filled my mind and I thrashed against my restraints as I freaked out. Somehow, my violent jerks succeeded in breaking my right arm free from the restraining strap.

I began ripping the needles out of my body despite the sharp pain that it caused me. The fluid surrounding me began to turn red as the needle holes began to bleed. Eventually, all my limbs were free and I started beating against the clear concavo-complex barrier that stood between my freedom and me. At first, my efforts seemed fruitless and my strikes became increasingly feral in response. Just when all hope seemed lost, a crack appeared.

Seeing at there was a chance for my escape, I pushed my beaten limbs harder in one last push at freedom. Finally, the barrier submitted to my assaults and I fell forward as it gave way. Some of the broken shards cut into my bare skin and I moaned in agony. Before I could rest, I heard something drop to the ground a few feet to my left. I looked up to see a lab coat clad Hispanic man staring wide-eyed at me.

After shaking for a moment, he suddenly yelled, "Security! One of them is awake!" He turned and started running in the opposite direction as he continued to yell the same two statements repeatedly. After removing the respirator from my face, I removed the waste removal tubes from my genitals and anus. Finally free from the strange device, I pushed myself to my feet.

As I did so, I saw my reflection in the most intact piece of the shards of the barrier. A pale, young, Caucasian boy with short brown hair and blue eyes looked back at me from the surface of the shard. I was just a child that appeared to be no older than ten years old. In the brief glance that I got, I also saw what appeared to be a barcode on the side of my head.

Confused, I looked down at my pale white hands and quietly asked aloud with a strangely deep but still desperate and scared voice, "What am I? Who am I?" The sound of approaching footsteps caused me to turn to look to my right. I saw a young Caucasian boy about my age with brown hair and wearing a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans. His face was bruised and his expression was one of deep sorrow, but his grey eyes held a charismatic sharpness to them.

I saw a quick look of curiosity before he asked, "Who are you?"

I replied, "I was hoping that you knew." Before we could continue conversing, a pale, strange looking raven-haired girl wearing a long sleeve red dress suddenly materialized between us. I was startled by her sudden appearance and I backed away from the pair a few steps. However, the boy seemed unaffected by her otherworldly physical appearance and I even saw a brief look of joy as he gazed at her as if she was some kind of goddess.

She smiled back at him before she scolded him with a motherly tone, "Michael no. You should not be here. Let me take you home. Quickly, before they find you." In my fear, I failed to pay enough attention to my surroundings and I stepped on one of the shards. It must have been pointed up because I yelped as it dug into my left foot.

The noise drew the attention of the girl. She turned away from Michael and looked at me. Immediately, I was drawn to her eyes. She had glowing orange eyes with dark rings around them. I wanted to retreat away from her frightening gaze but I suddenly heard her voice inside my mind. She asked with a gentle tone, "You see?" Frightened beyond rational thought, it took everything I had in me to manage to nod once in response.

Her pale lips formed a nearly imperceptible smile as she once again spoke into my mind. With the same gentle tone, she said, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you unless you give me a reason to. Come with us." She extended her right hand towards me and waited to see if I would accept her offer. Unsure about how to handle the situation, I took another step back.

I saw her eyes sadden in response. It was the most heartbreaking sight I had ever witnessed, but, in all fairness, I had just woken up. Beside her, Michael looked at me with an encouraging smile as he motioned towards her. Giving in, I walked forward and approached the young girl. When I was close enough, I extended my left hand and placed it in her hand.

A severe headache erupted inside my mind as I was assaulted by different images of the same two men fighting alongside each other. One wore brown Special Forces attire, was armed with an assault rifle, and disguised his face with a black ski mask that had a skull painted on it. The other wore white and green heavy armor that had racks of red shotgun shells in various spots along its surface, was armed with an automatic shotgun, and disguised his face with an intimidating cracked, white ceramic mask. Their uniforms may have claimed that the men swore different allegiances, but they might as well have been brothers as they fought together.

Before I could act upon the pain, it vanished along with the images. Clothing similar to Michael's had encased my frame while I had been overwhelmed by the images. Shaking, I asked, "Wh-what wa-was that?"

The girl giggled before she replied, "Someday, you will know."

Michael remarked with an amused voice, "Yeah, she does stuff like that. You get used to it after a while. Don't worry, that means that she likes you." Before I could respond, approaching voices and footsteps ended our short-lived moment. Michael said, "This way, I know a secret way out." I ran beside my new ally as he led the way to our escape route.

As we ran down the corridors, I glanced around and was horrified to see hundreds of children, most with deformed faces, in devices that were identical to the one in which I had been held prisoner. I asked aloud, "What the Hell is this place? What the fuck is going on here?"

As he paused to get his bearings, Michael explained, "This is a hidden facility that is owned by a corporation called Armacham Technology Corporation. You are one of hundreds of cloned soldiers that are called Replicas." He started running again and I followed beside him.

He continued, "Replica soldiers are part of a project called Perseus, which is funded by the Department of Defense. Something about genetically engineered puppet soldiers that respond to telepathic orders from psychic commanders."

Confused, I asked, "Puppet…soldiers? Psychic…commanders?"

He laughed as we rounded a corner before he said, "Fucked up shit isn't it? Trust me, this is nothing compared to what they are doing in Project Paragon."

I replied, "Depends on the perspective from which you are looking at it. I am a…cloned puppet…"

Realization hit me and I asked, "Wait, then why am I awake and making decisions?"

He replied with a humble, honest tone, "I don't know. Maybe you are special." We approached a series of large air vents that must have pulled fresh air down into the facility. If that were true, then we must have been underground. Michael pointed towards one and we ran to it.

He pulled it off its mount and motioned for me to follow him as he crawled into the vent. I bent down to follow but at that instant, an alarm sounded. Seconds later, the sound of closing metal security gates echoed throughout the facility. Before I could join my friend, a metal gate sealed off my escape route, as well as every other vent mounted nearby.

Michael crawled back and said, "Hold on, I will find a way to open it." I heard the sound of approaching booted footsteps. Realizing that it was too late for me, I grabbed the vent cover and put it back into place so that they would not suspect that anyone else other than me had tried to escape. That would buy my friend enough time to reach freedom.

With a hurt voice, Michael stated, "What are you doing? I won't leave you behind!"

I smiled slightly in gratitude for his concern before I replied, "No, it is too late for me. Please, run. Save yourself…my friend."

I saw him hesitate but the sound of approaching footsteps and the young girl telling him to follow her finally caused him to give into my request. However, just before he crawled away, he told me, "I will be back. I will set you all free. I promise." Then, he disappeared from view as he crawled away.

"You! Hold it right there!" I turned to see around a dozen men wearing dark sunglasses and dressed in matching short-sleeve blue uniforms with black lightweight Kevlar armor. Upon seeing the devices in their hands, a forced thought went through my mind. 'Dart Gun. Fires nonlethal projectiles designed to incapacitate targets by injecting narcotics via hypodermic needle. Effective range: five meters with optimal conditions. Situation assessment: successful escape highly unlikely; chances of survival are minimal.' The thought left my mind and I quietly asked myself, "What the fuck was that?"

A female voice mocked me, "Ah, you seem to have absorbed your programming despite your premature self-removal from your gestation pod. Pity that you have to be destroyed." A female scientist stepped forward between the guards as they aimed their dart guns at me. With a cold voice, she ordered, "He is an inferior specimen…sentient. We have no use for him. Kill him. Cremate the body when you are done." I stepped back in fright but I had no sooner moved back a step before I felt a sharp prick in my chest.

I looked down to see a dart imbedded into my upper chest. As it hit home that I was about to die, a forced thought went through my mind once more. 'Analysis: damage minimal; dart point imbedded into sternum; likelihood of effective drug injection is unlikely.' Rage filled me as I decided that I was not going to die without making my killers earn it. I was going to be defiant until the end.

Running towards the men, I ripped the dart out of my chest and held it tightly in my right hand. The female scientist fled the area as I neared the line of men. Darts continued to imbed themselves into my tiny body. However, I was an engineered super weapon so I fought through the fog and numbness that was beginning to overwhelm my senses. I lunged and tackled one of the guards. My momentum was enough to knock the man off his feet and I landed knees first on top of his chest.

By that time, my sense of hearing had degraded to the extent that every noise was distorted and muffled. While the man thrashed about beneath me, I thrust the dart into the man's right eye through the lens of his sunglasses. His screams were lost to me as I stood and prepared to stomp the dart in further. As my foot descended, I screamed, "Die motherfucker!" The man finally stopped moving except for the sporadic twitches caused by his body's nerve endings that had not gotten the memo that it was time to die.

With one down, I reached for the combat knife strapped to the corpse's right leg but before I could unsheathe it, one final dart struck into the side of my neck. My body finally could not hold back the tide of the narcotics flowing through my bloodstream. I collapsed onto my back. As I lay there, my arms and legs jerked as I attempted to continue the fight. Eventually, as the ATC security guards surrounded me and with my body ceasing all movement, I realized that my fate was inevitable and that I was never going to see the outside world.

Just before the fatal blow could be stuck, a man's voice said, "Wait." A man with brown hair, a moustache, black rimmed prescription glasses, and wearing a brown coat stood over me as my vision started to blacken. I could still make out the fear in the guards' faces from being in close proximity to this man. He studied me for a moment before he asked, "What is this one's identification?"

The Hispanic scientist that had gone for security earlier appeared beside the man. Looking down at a clipboard, he replied, "Variant VII. Classification: Heavy Trooper. Serial number: A0001."

A0001? That was my name? In addition, I was a Replica Heavy Trooper, whatever that meant. I managed to smile despite the tranquilizer drugs. At least, I would die knowing who and what I was. As my vision became a long narrow tube, I heard the brown-coated man say, "Take him to the Harbinger Facility's Outer Ring storage area. Label him as an experiment that is under my personal supervision."

As I submitted to the narcotics, I heard someone say, "Yes sir, Mr. Wade." Seconds later, I lost consciousness.

For the next twenty years or so, I was trapped in an endless cycle of being confined to that claustrophobic prison that they called a stasis pod and engaging in agonizingly repetitive live fire exercises in The Arena. The pathetic shells of human beings that ATC would strap into the chair in the booth were always the same: paranoid, feral, and could not give a coherent command if they wanted to. My curse of having a sentient mind proved useful in The Arena because I was able to quickly dispatch the enemy team while its members struggled to try to make sense of the incoherent orders given to them by the abominations. However, being human nearly drove me insane while I was in my stasis pod.

While my Replica brethren had the luxury of going dormant during the time in their stasis pods, I was awake. It would not have been so bad if the other Replicas had accepted me. However, except for the other Heavy Troopers, I was a freak of nature to them. The Heavy Troopers treated me with respect, but unfortunately, we Heavy Troopers are not social creatures so I spent months at a time in complete isolation with only my thoughts and memories to keep me company.

I constantly thought of Michael and the strange little girl. They were the only ones that had shown me kindness. Though I knew that it was pointless, I begged and prayed that some miracle would bring us back together. Then, one day, as I was deep in thought, my com link activated as the image of a Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD. After a moment of pulling my mind out of its slumber, I realized that it was a unit of the Replica Command.

The Trooper said, "Heavy Trooper A0001, respond."

Stunned, because I had never heard Replica Command contact me, I replied, "A0001 reporting for duty."

He ordered me, "A0001, you have been assigned as the squad leader for Alpha team. Your call sign is now Alpha 1. Orders are as follows: Proceed to Command Post Charlie and rendezvous with your new team. Terminate the Armacham Technology Corporation Blackops that have infiltrated the facility with extreme prejudice. Primary mission objective is to track down and terminate Delta Force Operative Sergeant Becket."

My pod opened and I exited it as I replied, "Roger that command." I retrieved my automatic shotgun and took in my surroundings. I was alone in a side storage area. I noticed a puddle of water on the concrete floor and looked down into it. An intimidating white ceramic mask with two glowing rectangular slits for eyes returned my glance. I was definitely no longer a child.

In the distance, I heard the sound of gunfire. Proceeding with caution, I entered the main corridor. I realized that the gunshots were headed my way. My com link activated and a Replica soldier informed me, "Alpha 1, Target Sergeant Becket is nearing your location."

I replied, "Copy that. He won't get past me." Moments later, I heard the sound of booted footsteps approaching my location. With my shotgun at the ready, I said quietly, "Nothing personal Becket, but it is either you or me."