The next upgrade was the focused laser pulse. This was our first weapon. It was incorporated into the guerrilla scenarios. We were to use it precisely, the culmination of the drill. It had a time delay for recharge. If we popped them off wildly, we'd be open for direct retaliation with a four second delay, denying any chance of weapon defense. We were trained in hand to hand combat, but that would prove little satisfaction against a giant dog. This then necesitated our exact control of the focused laser pulse. They taught us that dissabling the target on the first hit would also stop any civilian panic. Seeing a hail of laser pulses flying through the sky would cause undue stress on the outlay farmers and tenants. The focused laser pulse was enabled fully in marksman drills, but stripped of its lethal power in team drills. Any misfire during drills would result in severe penalties for up to a month. And being struck with a dissabled laser pulse still brought down us boys. It felt like getting struck with a tree, pure blunt force.

There were more weapon ugrades; rocket upgrades with physical ammo, rapid fire upgrades, stuff out of 21st century video games. Many of the boys forgot all about their past lives and why they were at the orphanage. I did not. Those boys loved the training, savored the chance to use their weapons against the dogs. They didn't hate the dogs, they just wanted something to kill.

Growing up at the orphanage, I didn't hate anything. I didn't hate the dogs, I didn't hate my life, the teachers, the orphanage. Neither did I love. Something inside of me had been missing ever since I closed my eyes on my mother. This had become my life. I lived it. I did what my teachers told me, I learned about the world, the two planets, the greatness of man, the glory of science. I learned how to fight, I was taught to kill. I had fun with my roommates, I cared for them, they loved me. I was quiet, I took what was given to me, I never said life wasn't fair.