The morning air was sharp and clear, but Dmitry Ivanov felt as if he were drowning. His body hummed with residual energy from the night before, and though he had finally managed to control whatever surge had overtaken him, the memory of it lingered. He stood at attention on the training field, surrounded by his fellow soldiers. Captain Mikhailov’s voice cut through the brisk air as he addressed them.


    “Comrades, the Dogs Program is not for the weak or faint of heart. It demands sacrifice for your country and for yourselves. The Motherland requires soldiers who are willing to transcend their limits, and that is what you will become.”


    Mikhailov’s eyes briefly met Dmitry’s, a silent reminder of the previous night’s confrontation. Dmitry stared straight ahead, refusing to let his unease show.


    “Today,” Mikhailov continued, “we push further. New drills. New tests. Those who falter will be reassigned.”


    The captain’s words hung in the air as the soldiers shifted uneasily. Reassignment was a polite term for failure, and in this program, failure wasn’t an option. Dmitry clenched his fists, feeling the faint prickle of energy beneath his skin. He would not falter.


    <hr>


    The day’s drills were grueling. Dmitry moved through the obstacle course faster than ever before, his body responding with a precision that felt almost alien. He scaled walls, crawled under barbed wire, and carried weights that no normal soldier could manage. The other soldiers, though competent and each changing in their own way, couldn’t match him. He noticed their glances, the murmurs that followed him like shadows.


    During a break, Dmitry sat alone on a bench, the cold metal pressing through his fatigues. He flexed his hands, watching the veins pulse beneath his skin. The injections had made him stronger, faster, sharper. But they had also made him different.


    “Ivanov.”


    He looked up to see Corporal Pavel Sokolov, one of his closest comrades before the program began. Pavel’s expression was wary but curious.


    “You’re… changing,” Pavel said, sitting down beside him.


    Dmitry forced a smile. “We all are. That’s the point.”


    Pavel shook his head. “No one is changing like you, you’re… something else now.”The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Dmitry’s smile faded. “Do you fear me, Pavel?”


    Pavel hesitated. “I don’t know what to think. Just… don’t lose yourself in whatever this is. You’re still a good man Dmitry. Remember that.”


    Dmitry said nothing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Did he still feel like a good man? Could he even be considered a man at this point? He wasn’t sure anymore.


    <hr>


    In the sterile confines of the lab, Dr. Yelena Morozova examined Dmitry’s latest test results. The data was astonishing. Neural activity had spiked again, and his physical performance had exceeded all projections. But the behavioral anomalies concerned her.


    “He’s becoming unstable,” Morozova said, turning to Captain Mikhailov. “If this continues, he may lose control entirely.”


    Mikhailov’s face was grim. “Then we must ensure he doesn’t. Dmitry is the pinnacle of this program. If he succeeds, so does the Motherland. We cannot afford failure.”


    Morozova sighed. “Pushing him further will only accelerate the changes. He’s already exhibiting… primal behaviors. Increased aggression. Heightened territorial instincts. It’s as if his humanity is being overwritten.”


    “And yet he remains functional,” Mikhailov countered. “Until he isn’t, we proceed.”


    <hr>


    That evening, Dmitry found himself unable to sleep. The barracks were quiet, the other soldiers lost in their own dreams. He lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a tangled web of doubt and determination.


    A faint sound drew his attention—a scrape of metal against stone. He sat up, his heightened senses immediately alert. Slipping out of his bunk, he followed the sound outside.


    The training grounds were empty, but the scent of something unfamiliar lingered in the air. Dmitry moved cautiously, his steps silent on the frost-covered ground. The sound came again, sharper this time, leading him to the edge of the forest.


    There, in the shadows, he saw it. A pair of amber eyes glinted back at him, filled with an intelligence that mirrored his own. For a moment, Dmitry felt a connection—an understanding that went beyond words.


    Then the creature vanished into the woods, leaving Dmitry alone with the realization that he was no longer the apex predator in this program. Something else was out there, something that called to the part of him he was beginning to fear.


    <hr>


    The next morning, Dmitry approached Captain Mikhailov in his office. “I need answers,” he said, his voice firm.


    Mikhailov looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable. “About what?”


    “The program,” Dmitry replied. “What are we becoming?”


    Mikhailov leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. “Weapons, Ivanov. That is what you signed up for. That is what you are.”


    “And the creature I saw last night? What is it?”


    Mikhailov’s eyes narrowed. “That is classified.”


    Dmitry’s fists clenched. “I have a right to know.”


    “You have a duty to obey,” Mikhailov said coldly. “If you cannot do that, you will find yourself expendable.”


    Dmitry stared at him for a long moment, the tension thick between them. Finally, he turned and left, his mind racing. Whatever was happening, he had to learn to control it.  With every step he took he noted his blood burning for aggression and his will fighting to keep it contained.