Title: "Re-Creation For A Better Soldier"

Author: Little Albatross (monicaxrohrer@gmail.com)

Dates: March 10, 2009

Distribution: Serenity of X, Strughold Mining Co. Anyone else, please ask.

Rating: R

Category: Knowle Rohrer centric

Timeline: before "The X-Files" series

Spoilers: the Super Soldier mythology

Beta: none.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. All 
X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-
Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX 
Broadcasting.

Summary: Knowle converses with his father about the 
Super Soldier project.

Author's Note: Alan Dale was under used on "The X-
Files", so this is my little fic that centers around 
a theory that his character ("Toothpick Man") is 
Knowle Rohrer's father, and is deeply involved in the 
Super Soldier project.

--------------------

JANUARY 8, 1984

The gray light from the outside sneaks in through the 
open blinds of the apartment, as rain gently runs 
down the windows, leaving little streaks of water. 
Lying passed out on the couch is Knowle Rohrer, shirt 
undone, jeans still on, and bottles of alcohol on the 
ground, his hand still holding one that is partly 
empty.
 
The apartment door quietly opens. An older man 
enters, walking towards Knowle. He stops in front of 
him and looks down at the passed out body of his son.

"I know you're awake." He says.

Knowle opens his eyes and looks up at the man with 
hatred.

"What are you doing here?" He growls as he sits up on 
his couch. He looks down at his feet at an open 
bottle of vodka and picks it up, taking a quick swig 
of the flask. 

"I hear you were out last night." His tone is 
disapproving. "At a bar getting wasted."

"So?" Knowle doesn't look up at him.

"You know better than to do that. You're a valuable 
asset to over fifty years of military research and 
science."

"That I never asked for." He looks up and glares. "So 
I don't really give a fuck if I'm out doing what I 
want to, to feel alive."

Knowle gets up, steadies himself, and walks passed 
his father.

"Get yourself together, Knowle." He scolds.

"You know of all the shitty fathers in the world you 
really take that number one slot with minimal 
competition." Knowle comments as he enters his 
kitchen. He comes out a moment later with a bottle of 
beer, opening it as he looks at his father. "Some 
fathers actually teach their sons how to pitch, throw 
a spiral." He takes a drink. "But not you."

"Think what you want of me Knowle, but when you were 
drafted out of Bravo Company you made the decision-"

"-I never made the decision!" He glares at his 
father. "When I was asked to be a part of a military 
research and development team, no one, including you, 
informed me that I would be the one researched and 
developed into God only knows what you people are 
doing to me."

"It's survival Knowle."

"Oh yeah, the aliens." He glares. "I don't believe in 
that shit." 
 
"You better start believing, son, because they are 
the reason we are re-creating you."

"I happen to think I was fine just as I was." Knowle 
glares at his father. "I guess I shouldn't be shocked 
you want to 're-create' me to make me 'better'. You 
never did approve of anything I did."

"Think about it Knowle." He takes a step closer to 
his son. "You'll be able to fight and never get 
tired. Withstand the pain of torture. You won't need 
food, water, or sleep. You are becoming the top 
soldier in the world. A super soldier."

Knowle looks at his father with a deadpanned 
expression. He takes another drink of his beer. 

"Is this why you wanted me to join the military? Have 
you, for years, been planning to enter me into this 
project? Manipulating me?"

"It wasn't manipulation. I want only what is best for 
you, and for me."

"For you?" Knowle cocks an eyebrow.

"You're development, the research that we are doing 
on you, will be refined when it comes time to 
duplicate the process with other people of higher 
rank. Others like myself."

He glares at his father and walks away from him, back 
to his couch.

"You really are a bastard." He plops down on his 
couch and takes another sip of his beer. "You're 
doing all this experimentation because this is 
something YOU want for yourself?"

"If it's any consolation, I didn't choose you. They 
did."

"They?"

"The people I work for."

"Oh, those suit-suits who have no names." Knowle 
glares at him. "And I suppose while you're with them 
you have no name too. What do they call you? The 
Manipulative Bastard?"

His father doesn't say a word. He pulls out a 
toothpick and sticks it in his mouth.

"Does it really matter?"

"Get the hell out of here." Knowle looks away from 
his father.

"I expect you to be there tomorrow, and in better 
shape." His father walks away, towards the door.

"And if I don't?"

"I wouldn't try to run away, son." He turns to face 
his son at the door. "There are serious consequences 
for insubordination."

Knowle takes his final drink from his beer bottle. He 
doesn't make eye contact with his father. The door 
closes and Knowle takes a deep breath, wishing like 
hell he were some place else.

THE END.


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