Prologue

Four years had passed since the day Feline number 152 dash 8 had entered the testing facility. Back then he was known by the name of Kooper Tralonie. His parents thought that they were sending him to an attitude correction camp. What they didn’t know was that they would never see him again, at least as his human self.

It all started like your average boot camp, innocent and nice. It even included a Commander Baldy.

“Anybody know the reason to why you’re here?” asked Commander Baldy. “It’s because you’ve all been bad boys.” Not even he, the highest ranking and ruling military officer in the facility, knew the true reason to why the teens were brought here. The 'chosen' kids consisted of everything from mohawk punks and sleep-deprived stoners to kids slightly innocent like Kooper.

Kooper continued to zone-out as Baldy lectured about curfews, bunks and schedules. One slip of the tongue, and recent authority issues, was all it took for his parents to decide to send Kooper off to the camp. He was still zoning-out when the group of twenty or so teenagers began to file out of the small room, and making their way down the hall.

“Move it kid!” barked Baldy. Already Kooper hated him. Two more times of yelling in the face finally encouraged Kooper to move from his chair and leave the room. The room consisted of twenty chairs in four rows, whitewashed walls, a small whiteboard that the Commander had scribbled on and no windows. He followed Baldy down the hallway, around a right turn, down a long fleet of stairs and into a room with a desk positioned in the center. Kooper noticed that the desk was bolted to the floor and that all the teens had disappeared.

“Sit,” Baldy pointed to the desk. “The doctors want to examine you.” He emphasized the word ‘examine’ with disgust. Kooper sat in the desk, and looked at the door opposite of the one that Baldy had ushered him in through. A small, rectangular window was set in the door. As Kooper tried to look through the smoke-stained window, he thought he caught a glimpse of what looked like an animal in a cage. A man in a white lab coat opened the door, and walked out, smiling.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Surgey,” said the man. Beneath the coat, Dr. Surgey wore white scrubs and paper slippers over his shoes. He had a long, flat rectangular face that matched the window. His brown hair was neatly combed down, and he wore a nicely trimmed goatee. Even though his attitude seemed spunky, almost caffeinated, Kooper could see dark circles beneath his hazel-blue eyes.

“Ok. First I’ll do a full physical. You know, height, weight, that sort of thing.” Baldy just stood there, missing the queue to leave. Kooper, and Dr. Surgey, stared at him till he finally caught on and left.

“Close the door please,” asked Dr. Surgey. “Ok, Kooper. Let’s begin.” Surgey somehow pulled a clipboard out from a coat pocket, and began to make notes. He walked to the adjacent wall and pushed a concealed button, causing a section of the wall to come forward. Surgey pulled out a scale and measurer. Kooper knew the drill, take your shoes off and step onto the scale.

“A hundred and twenty pounds, and five feet, eight inches. Now, I’ll need you to pull down your pants, including your underwear.” Kooper looked at Surgey weird.

“It’s to test if you have a hernia,” explained Surgey. Kooper complied.

After that, Kooper paid just enough attention to get by and not to get lost. That was, until Dr. Surgey brought out the needle. Then Surgey had his full attention. Kooper had never enjoyed needles.

“It’s only a vaccine,” explained Surgey. “Your records show that you’re missing one.” Kooper started to back away form the needle, and the man holding it. He got as far as the wall, when suddenly, Kooper blacked-out.

“Then this’ll be easier,” commented Dr. Surgey.

Kooper woke up with his whole body aching. “What did he inject me with?” he wondered. He noticed that he was in a small, window-less room. Kooper was currently lying on the bed. Across from the bed, was a sink and mirror. And at the end of the bed, there was what looked like a scratching post.

“Welcome to your new home, patients,” came a voice over an intercom system. “Starting today, you will all live a new life. Forget your old name, and remember your instincts. Oh, by the way, you might want to look on your right wrist. Have a nice day.”

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