Early Morning. Training Grounds.

”Lift your right higher or I am gonna kick your head off!” The voice echoed in sharp rapport over the training grounds as Kain blocked a kick just barely in time to keep his skull from being rung. The hulking mass of muscle someone decided to call a man was doing what he always after he woke up. He ran trough the Sentinel 101's. A course in heavy duty defensive training. He was remarkably agile for his size, but he was nowhere near as nimble as some of his smaller opponents. But he was built like a ox, and that was good enough. Another kick came flying, this time from left. He stepped in, curled his arm into triangle of hardened, flexing muscle to protect his head. The kick hardly felt and his opponent, a young Soldier cadet, danced away. Kain had a look of sour concentration on his face. He wasn't a hand to hand fighter. At most he knew a few basic combinations and grapples. But he was a sentinel. The entire point of him was to learn how to take blows, how deflect and block. And so he did. He didn't dodge, he threw his thick arms up in a block, feeling a heel impact on a nerve center. He swore silently as the tingle of pain flew out into his fingertips.

Another kick, this one fell like an axe from above, heel aimed for his head. Kain grinned as he lifted both arms, blocking it with his arms crossed before he let one massive hand wrap around the ankle of his opponent. His sparring yelped as he was rather unceremoniously grabbed and lifted of the ground., Kain pulled with both arms, following and pulling the man along in a half circle before he tossed him with a grunt. His attacker was flung unceremoniously onto the outside of the mat with a ”oof”. Kain wiped some sweat of his brow as he relaxed from his defensive posture. A ring out meant the spar was at an end. His left arm had a decently sized bruised from the the number of blows it had taken during the little bout, but it'd heal up in no time.

His training partner, a man named Joseph, was on his feet again. ”I swear Kain. Your way to strong. It's like kicking a brick wall half the time.” He said as he shook his leg free of the numbness that was the effect of having it used as leverage for a swing. Joseph wasn't bad, if he had gone all in, Kain would have been in real trouble. But Joseph had only been using his legs for the exercise, helping Kain learn how to predict a opponent who was effective with his feet. Kain wasn't a unarmed fighter, no, his weapon of choice lay resting against the wall. A 20 kilos worth of meteoric iron and obsidian lay resting against the wall. The firebrand, a glimmering, violent beacon of red and black. His sword, as it were, was about the same size as him and wieldable only by him. Others had tried, but you needed Kains freakish strength to even begin swinging it around.

Kain stretched and fished up a cigarette from his pocket. The second it touched his lips, spark of fire went trough it, seemingly burning part of it and lighting the tip. He never understood how he did that, it just happened. He knew he was supposedly some sort of pyrokinetic, but he really had no idea where his powers came from. The Superiors at Soldier had sad it was part of his genetic makeup from birth. It had just been dormant before. He didn't much care to look deeper into it in this instance.

”I'm getting breakfast. You coming?” Kain raised a eyebrow at Joseph. Joseph shook his head with a smile. ”What? And watch you eat a mountain worth of food? Yeah no. You already make me feel a small and fragile man, I don't need to watch you eat a small countries worth of food on top of that.”

Kain grunted. ”Whatever.”

As it happened. Kain was only of his first four plates when the call rang out for him to gather. He grunted and got up from his table. Much to the relief of the mess hall ladies, Kain went grab his things and leave for the briefing. A cigarette soon found its way between his lips. ”Man. I am still hungry” He mumbled.

---

---

Far from the morning hustle and bustle, two figures were standing silently in front of a particular door with grim expressions. “A-are you sure about this?” the young man asked the brunette next to him. Her eyes were staring at the door that separated them from the room’s resident. “He hasn’t come out of his room yet. We have to get him out of there.” Her expression softened for a moment, “Besides, I promised Evangeline that I would.”
“I know, but--…”
“Haziq, you don’t need to go in there with me. I can do this by myself. Just wait out here… just in case--…”
“No, Athene! I can’t let you do this alone! I’m… I’m coming with you.”
“Are you… certain?”
“Yes. I am. We’re in this together.”

The two scientists looked into each other’s eyes and nodded to one another before turning their full attention to the door in front of them. Athene took in a deep breath as her hand reached over and placed itself onto the handprint scanner. Within a few seconds the lock light on the door turned from red to green. She glanced at her partner, “Are you ready?” No. He wasn’t, but neither was she. There was, however, no point in prolonging the inevitable. So Haziq nodded and Athene pressed the button to open the door.

When the door slid open, the two could almost see the stench flooding into the hallway. Athene was pretty sure she had fainted when foul smell stimulated —and probably burned off— her smell receptors, yet the smell was so bad that it snapped her back to consciousness as quickly as it made her unconscious. Haziq, on the other hand, was so overwhelmed by the feeling of nausea that he not only felt like regurgitating everything he ate this morning, but also vomit out his entire digestive system. It was through sheer willpower that he didn’t do either.

Athene pinched her nostrils closed, “Are you okay?”
“Pretend I said yes.”
“Last chance to turn back.”
“I said we’re in this together and I meant it… But I’d also greatly appreciate it if we could get this over with as soon as humanly possible.”
“Agreed.”
With the knowledge that breathing through their nose was a terrible idea, Athene and Haziq ventured deeper into room —far enough that the door automatically closed behind them, cutting them off from the rest of the world.

Aside from the tiny lights emitting from a number of machines, darkness dominated the room; if objects had not melted into the abyss, they were shadows that were impossible to correctly identify where there was little to no lighting. One of the first things the scientists tried to do was turn the light switch on, but when they did finally find the switch —after a good amount of fumbling— it had failed to produce any light. “Damn it Rainer,” Athene cursed her old mentor for not changing the burnt out light bulbs. Sighing, she began to guide her way to where the window should be with her colleague right behind.

On their way to the window, something in the darkness moved. The scientists froze, unsure what it was. “Henri?” Haziq offered. Silence. Haziq broke away from Athene to take a closer look at the thing, only to stumble on something he could barely see. “Let me open the window before we trip over something and break our necks.”
“Don’t you know what happens in horror movies when people split up?”
“We’re in the same room.”
“It still counts.”
“Good thing we’re not in a horror movie then,” Athene said as she continued her quest for the window. When she finally did get to the window, she pressed a button, which began to lift up the heavy-duty roller shutters outside. Slowly but surely, sunlight found its way into the dark room, revealing what was once hidden from their eyes —and perhaps should have remained a mystery. Calling the room “messy” would an understatement; the room was a disaster: all sorts of things where scattered on the floor—including, but not limited to clothes that never found its way to a closet or washing machine, empty containers that should have been in a garbage bag, garbage bags that should have been taken out long ago, and perishable items that were starting form colonies of microorganisms and were also the prime culprit to the stench in the room—, paper with writings on them covered almost every inch of the wall, and piles of files, books, and more paper formed a mountain range that made the room feel smaller that it actually was.

Meanwhile, Haziq managed to find his way to the thing he thought saw moving. There, sitting at the desk, was a figure with his head on the surface, in a puddle of dark liquid that dripped off the table. Haziq’s breath caught in his throat. He rushed towards the figure, shaking it once he was in arm’s reach. The young man’s face paled when his eyes had enough light to see what the dark liquid was. “O-oh no! No!” the man shook the figure more fiercely, just enough to make the figure stir from it’s slumber. It groaned and moaned before looking up at Haziq. For the first time since he entered the room, he saw how serious the situation was —that a “very serious crime” had been committed— and Haziq let out a shriek. The noise was so sudden and ear piercing, the figure —a man as it turns out— screamed like a little girl in response. Although Athene initially jumped at the noises two grown men were making, one annoyed glance at them was all she gave to them before she opened the window to let some well-needed fresh air into the room.

“HOLY CRAP! YOU LOOK LIKE A PIECE OF SH*T, HENRI!”
“THANKS! GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO!” the man who Haziq called Henri, but also known as Hal, paused for a moment before screaming again, “WHY ARE WE YELLING?”
“Because you’ve committed a serious crime, Henri. I can’t believe you did this!”
“Huh? What? What did I do this time?”
“Oh, playing dumb are we? Then tell me that’s not the silk shirt we gave you last year!”
Hal looked down at the shirt the younger man pointed out, “It… might be?”
“What’s that stain?”
Hal sniffed his shirt, “Coffee?” He turned to look at the black liquid was all over his desk. “Coffee,” he confirmed before jumping out of his chair to repeat what he had just said, “COFFEE!? Ah, sh*t!” Hal quickly picked up his coffee drenched paper work and scrutinized each loose leaf, hoping that one of them might be salvageable. Alas, the world was not kind enough to give a damn.
“Screw the papers! Take off that shirt, right now, you fiend! I might still be able to get the stains off! You know how expensive this was?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Athene cut in, “why were you not up already, Rainer? Didn’t you hear the announcement?” Hal stared at his ex-protégée with a blank expression. “You didn’t hear it, did you?” Hal shook his head and she sighed. “You and a number of other soldiers were summoned to the Council Room. It seems like you have a mission. Hurry up and get ready.”
“You mean I have to do actual SOLDIER work? Ewwww!”
“Shut up and get ready. You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry.”

Hal groaned, “Oh fine.” He picked up his glasses and started to navigate his way out of his room before Athene’s cold voice reached his ears, “Stop.” He halted in place and turned around, “Yes?”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“You just told me to go to the Council Room.”
“I said get ready.”
“I am?”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am.”
“Take a shower. Put clean clothes on. THEN leave.”
“Its just Rayne, right? The silk shirt might be over dressing for the occasion, but it does have a nice coffee stain on it.”
“It’s not just the President so go clean yourself and the shirt isn’t the only thing that has a coffee stain on it. Also, you may not have noticed, but Haziq is getting teary eyed. Give him the shirt so that we don’t have to see him actually cry. We both know it’s not a pretty sight.”
“Hey, I am no where near an emotional break down just yet!” Haziq retorted. All Athene had to say was “Expensive branded shirt. Brown stain. Eyes. Starting.” and Haziq was already on the brink of a sobbing. She smirked at Hal as he glared right back at her.
“You’re a terrible person.”
“Anything to get it my way. Now hand over the shirt and go clean yourself.”

Shaking his head, Hal made quick work of the buttons of his shirt and passed the overpriced clothing to Haziq. His ex-protégé frantically grasped at the silk cloth, which apparently granted Haziq magical hurdling powers since he jumped over the book mountain ranges to catch it midair and was out of the room in a matter of seconds, just to save the precious shirt. Athene just barely had time to request Haziq to bring extra trash bags and a ton of air fresheners in time before he was out of sight and out of earshot.

“If he likes the worm spit shirt so much, I should probably just give it to him.”
“Silk.”
“Silk worm spit.”

---

With great confidence Hal can state that the military is not his true calling, but if there was one thing he learned from this life, it was how to military shower: he was in and out of the shower in three minutes. As he was changing into the cleanest clothes —well, truthfully, even while he was in the shower— he could hear Athene complaining about how dirty the room was as she was doing her best to clean said room. “I honestly don’t get how you can stand living in this filth. Really, Rainer, when is the last time you cleaned this place up?”
“The last time Bubbles cleaned it?”
“And when was that?”
“Uh… Hmm… four days ago, I think?
“Your room became this dirty… in four days?”
“Ahaha! I know, funny, right? I think it’s a talent.”
“No wonder Evangeline asked us to check up on you.” There was a moment of silence before Athene yelled, “Gods damn it Rainer! What the f*ck is this!?” Confused, Hal hastily buttoned up his last piece of garment before walking back to his room. Athene was waiting for him holding a moldy sandwich, “WHAT IS THIS!?”
“Oh, so that’s where my lunch went.”
“From when!?”
“Uh… three… four days ago?”

This man. This man was going to make Athene’s head explode one day. The brunette messaged her temples, “I can’t believe, we can’t trust a full grown man to live on his own for even four days.” She took a deep sigh before glancing at the time. Her ex-mentor had little time to waste, “Whatever. It’ll have to be a discussion for later. For now, get your butt out of here. If you run, you might make it in time.”
“But what about breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day!”
“And you have no one else to blame, but yourself for missing it. Now go! Shoo!” Hal made no attempt to leave, however. Instead, Athene caught Hal’s eyes glancing down at the garbage bag where she had tossed the sandwich in. Her eyes narrowed and her gut told her to slap the first thing that came close to her. When Hal’s hand reached for contents in the bag, she was ready.
“Ow!”
“Seriously?”
“What? It’s totally eatable! I just have to pinch out the moldy bits.”
“No. You know how fast mold spreads and you know it can be anywhere even if you can’t see it.”
“I’ve eaten worse.”
“I don’t care. You’re not eating moldy sandwiches under my watch.” Her finger pointed directly at the door, “Now leave! Be gone! Korfred’s at the meeting; try begging him for food! Just go and don’t come back to this pigsty until I say you can!”

The name of the ex-lawyer was enough to make the hungry 33-year-old man’s face light up with childlike glee, “Lawyer’s there? Why didn’t you say so!?” Hal dashed out the room without looking back. He sprinted down the halls, up the stairs, and straight to the Council Room. The the first thing that came out of his mouth when he slammed open the door was, “Lawyer! Feed me!”

---

---

Beatrice woke up early just like the rest of the SOLDIERS occupying the residential quarters. Waking up before dawn was a routine that each and every one of them had been conditioned from the start and were now overly familiar with. A vast majority of never didn't even need alarms of any sort to wake them any longer. It was now ingrained into them. After getting up from bed, she had gone through a simple wash-up that included washing up her face and brushing her teeth.

Once she was down with that, the perky blonde carried out a short series of warm-up exercises, stretching her muscles, chasing any remnant of sleep from them. With that over and done with, she left her bunk, heading towards the multi-purpose hall where the vast multitudes of warriors trained, sparred or played competitive games with each other. The hall was already bustling with activity and there were always a couple of spars going on. As she entered, Beatrice gave the wide open room a sweeping glance before her gaze locked onto an interesting sight. A person. Someone she knew.

The Mountain. Most knew him as Kain. But she gave him a nickname of her own. She referred to the hulk of a man as the Mountain due to his immense statute and muscle mass. He was huge, easily one of the largest and strongest men in the base. He was sparring, taking own someone smaller in size to him, but then again just about everyone was smaller in size to him.

Beatrice began sitting on one of the empty benches, observing the spar between the Mountain and his opponent. She watched as he received punches and kicks from the smaller guy, absorbing and shrugging them like they were nothing. Her show was interrupted when a tall and lanky guy came over and taunted her, egging her for a spar. She'd never seen the guy before, and he'd probably never seen her around before either. Must be a new cadet. Those are always over-eager to prove themselves to those watching. He must have thought of her as an easy target, being shorter and smaller in size compared to most guys around here. He was wrong. She was no easy picking.

Unknown to the poor fool, one of her specialities lay in hand-to-hand combat. Without any word or sign, the lanky fellow threw a sudden punch her way aiming for her cheek, probably hoping to catch her unaware. She was not caught unprepared. Countless hours of training has honed her senses making them acute. Real sneaky, and playing dirty as well. Well, I can roll with that, she thought to herself.

Beatrice countered the blow with a swift arm movement, and as the guy threw another punch in the opposite direction, aiming for her face, she followed up with yet another block, following his movements. More blows came, from a series of punches to kicks. Eventually her time came as she saw an opening. The man's moves was impulsive and relied on brute strength, lacking finesse and technique. He seemed to going on emotion rather than intuition. Throwing up a rising punch towards his face, he barely managed to raise his left arm in defence, blocking the blow, but that left him in a vulnerable position for what came next, a roundhouse kick aimed toward his chest, in a bid to end the bout in a decisive manner. She was starting to get hungry. It was time to end this, so she could go grab some food.

Unable to lower his arm fully in time to block her blow, her leg connected with her lanky challenger's body, sending him toppling to the sparring mats laid out on the floor with a heavy thud. That seemed to knock the wind out of him. He lay there for several seconds, his chest rising and falling deeply, shock clearly present on his face. He then got up, and surprisingly grinned at her like an abashed fool.

In between hushed intakes of breath, he exclaimed. "Well, looks like I just got schooled!" Beatrice gave him a wink as his remark. She was famished, and had only one thing on her mind now. Food. She quickly headed towards the direction of food, completing the former challenger's request for her name. "Hey! Wait-What's your name?" Beatrice loved eating. Through some wondrous work of nature, her body's high rate of metabolism ensured that she could eat as much as she desired without putting on much weight. Halfway through three plates worth of food, TV screens and alarms blared base-wide alerting the occupants of the summons.

Looking up to see herself included in the mix with her SOLDIER ID and picture displayed on the screen, followed by the loud speakers announcing the names of those that had been summoned. Beatrice sighed as she started to make her way towards the council room.

She wasn't done eating yet. Couldn't they have waited at least until she was done?

---

---

Quill sat at one of the ornate desks that occupied the archive room. Well, room wasn't the correct term for it, given it's size. The room could house twenty separate rooms in it and it was filled with different files, books, literature, anything a girl's heart desires. There were other people roaming around. A few other SOLDIER cadets were out and about, some higher-ups fiddling with some papers, two SOLDIER students who she was pretty sure only came here to find a quiet space to make-out in. She didn't pay much attention.

The files before her were various in nature. Some read about the different areas outside of the base, some were bestiaries on different creatures encountered, others were reports given by scouting parties and recon groups.

She had to admit, it fascinated her. She had been cooped up here for so long, she yearned for the chance to finally go out there and show what she's worth. Grueling hours of combat training, met with first aid classes, met with other subjects of varying natures and all it got her thus far was an uncomfortable bed, daily exercise and food, and some other people she'd been paired with who she didn't consider friends, but didn't consider them unfriendly.

She hadn't realized that some guy had been staring at her the whole time and finally took the courage to walk up and stand in front of her at the other side of the desk.

"You're a busy little thing, aren't you?" he asked in a way she assumed he was being flirty and cute. It only annoyed her.

She remained silent.

"I mean look at all these papers. You know you don't have to study anymore right? Why not take a break and go have some fun?"

She remained silent.

The man was obviously not taking the hint and sat down across from her and put his arms on the desk, covering up a few of the files, "Come on, we can do whatever you want. We could even take a stroll around the base and just talk. Please?"

She remained silent.

The man sighed, "Wow, the others were right. You are an ice bitch."

At that Quill shot up, took the man's arm and head and slammed it into the desk. He didn't realize it until his forehead made contact with the desk and he yelped in pain. "Ah dammit! What the hell?!" he muttered.

"The first three times you asked didn't make it clear. I am not interested. Please leave me alone."

The man looked shocked as Quill let him go and sat at the desk again and began reading the files as if nothing happened. He looked around to see if anyone else saw that, but everyone else seemed to be in their own world. That, or they did, and wanted to remain oblivious. He wasn't having it.

"Oh no, I am not done. What makes you think you can just do that to someone? Someone who was trying to be nice to you."

He walked around the desk and laid a hand on her shoulder. That was a mistake. She sighed and stood up. The man grinned until her knee made contact with his gut. He lurched forward and she took that opportunity to uppercut him and make him stumble backwards, falling over a chair and tumbling back. He groaned and writhed around in pain. She walked over to him and looked down at him, "For the last time, I am not interested. I suggest you go rest and get your wind back."

A few people looked at her and then continued on their way. She heard the speakers crackle on and announce that SOLDIERS had to report to the conference room. She heard her number and saw her picture on the screen. She gave a soft smile. She made her way out of the room, leaving the man on the floor, clutching his stomach.

Feet spread, shoulders steady, back straight, arms not-quite-rigid, breathe calmly, aim down the sights, pull trigger slowly. Bang. Epitaph repeated the mantra in his head with each round fired at the sheet of cardboard, which simulated a man-sized target thirty meters away. Out of the last six rounds he had fired, three had struck the center of mass, one had struck the head and two had gone wide and missed. He fired two more rounds, another miss and another body hit, and set the pistol down on the barricade.

Epitaph breathed slowly, grappling with the idea that he was wasting his time. He didn't even use a pistol in the field, why was he training his marksmanship in the dark hours of early morning? If he wanted to, he could conjure some excuse for himself that flexibility in combat was of dire importance, but he would be ignoring the real answer. He just wanted some time to himself. His hours spent asleep in his quarters were the only guaranteed solitude he had left, and so he savored any more alone time that he could scrounge up. He discovered some days ago that the firing range was usually deserted in the morning, and even if there were one or two other SOLDIERS in it, they wouldn't bother him. It seemed that the others were hesitant to approach him as long as he was carrying a loaded gun.

The morning was drawing on, however, and Epitaph's precious solitude would soon come to an end. The thought irritated him subtly. He knew that he was under orders to socialize and become acquainted with the other SOLDIERs in his unit, and honestly it wasn't usually a very painful experience. It was just tiresome in a way that he had never known before. An hour surrounded by people, listening to their inane chatter and being forced to acknowledge their pointless opinions was as draining as ten hours spent in a forward encampment. Only after being assigned to this unit had he begun experiencing the inexplicable desire to crawl under a piece of furniture and pass out. It didn't seem to get easier, either; every day was a little more tiring, and left him slightly more disoriented by lights-out. He wondered how long it would take until he had nothing left to offer to these people, when his facade of goodwill and camaraderie ran dry.

Epitaph returned his weapon to the Combat Arms technician manning the firing range. The weapon and remaining ammunition were turned in, Epitaph signed a receipt, and the technician returned the SOLDIER's identification card to him. The man said, "Have a good day," and Epitaph said, "Thank you, you as well," back to him. Epitaph wished all conversations were that easy. A transaction, almost like an exchange of code. All he had to do was say the correct words in the correct sequence, and both parties could walk away satisfied. It didn't matter what the words actually meant. "Have a good day?" What did that even mean? Was he supposed to have "a good day," now? Was that an order or a request? It was arcane and ridiculous for Epitaph to think about it, much like many other facets of etiquette and courtesy that he had learned. Even pondering these mysteries exhausted him.

Orders went out over the intercom. Epitaph was being called for orders. Making his way to the correct conference room, Epitaph passed many other SOLDIERs going about whatever they did in the morning. For most of them, as far as he could tell, their routines were highly strict, almost ritualized. Epitaph had a similar schedule in his non-deployed hours as a SCION, but that had been assigned to him, he didn't choose any of it. Their queer habits and routines struck Epitaph in much the same way that, "Have a good day," did: it was... superstitious. SOLDIERs were very strange people that put a great amount of time and effort into concepts that Epitaph didn't consider real. "Luck" was the primary offender. Epitaph certainly did not believe in luck. He believed in training and equipment, and that had been more than enough for him throughout his entire life.

Epitaph entered the conference room, and took a seat without pause or fanfare. Compared to the others, who had only been serving the government for the barest fraction of their lives, Epitaph was a queer sight. The pallor of his skin and the silver stubble on his scalp contrasted sharply with the flat black of the standard-issue PT tracksuit he wore. His dark eyes swiveled about the room, glancing briefly at the others as they flitted about. The faces were nominally familiar, but he didn't have names at hand to put to them. Instead they were Glasses, Beard, Blonde One, and so on. To a casual observer, he seemed tense and flighty, as though he would jump up and run out the room at the slightest provocation. This was actually a fair observation, but it wasn't because he was nervous. That was just Epitaph. It was how he was raised, and how he was trained (for the little distinction that existed between the two). His hands quivered; he still wasn't used to being in an enclosed space like this with so many people without a weapon. He pressed his hands to the table to stop them from shaking. It didn't exactly help, but it would have to do. The meeting was commencing.

"AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!"

A man went flying through the air, crashing onto the cold ground with a resounding thud, skidding a few feet before he came to a stop, a low groan coming from the fallen figure. James, the one who had sent the man flying, walked overdressed in the cool black of the Cerberus under-armor, his crimson eyes staring down at the fallen figure with a frigid calmness as he walked over, holding out his hand to the beaten party.

"You done whining, or should I give you another minute?"

"Fuck off James."

Charles, the cadet on the ground, pushed James hand away, getting up with a slight huff before glaring at his ashen friend. "I don't see why I have to know this, I'm a goddamn sniper, so if the enemy gets to me that means it should be time to retreat."

"And what if the enemy is flanking from behind and happen on you first, would hat be the time to flee as well?"

Charles clicked his teeth, looking away from James with another huff, though he apparently moved too fast as the action was still followed by a low groan as his neck resisted the sudden movement. "You know, sometimes it's hard to tell if you're just a sarcastic asshole, or you really don't have a single emotion in your goddamn skull. Don't you feel anything when you kick the ass of one of your best, and if we're being truthful here, only friends."

James thought on the comment for a moment, tossing it over before he finally decided on an appropriate answer.

"Yeah, I feel like you need to work on not being crap at fighting."

"Like I said before, James, fuck off." Charles yelled in frustration, walking off in a mumbled haze of curses, complaints, and excuses. James watched him walk off with the same expression as he had throughout the conversation, a calm monotone that gave no indication of what he was thinking or feeling if he was even feeling at all. Once Charles had disappeared, James headed off in the direction of the archives, wanting to study some more on creatures before he headed to the mess to eat some lunch. After that, he wasn't quite sure what he would do, as he had nothing planned and his training partner probably would need more than a few hours to cool of from how easily he'd been thrashed.

Cracking his neck, he walked off from the training grounds just as some idiot challenge Beatrice to a sparring match. He didn't have to watch to know that the man was going to get his ass handed to him, as the woman was not to be taken lightly, especially when it came to her specialty. When the two had faced each other in spars, the matches had been quite intense between the two hand-to-hand specialists, and while he believed they were currently tied, he could be wrong. Competition never really had any allure to James, so much of the posturing and bragging of other cadets was often lost on him. To James, all that matter was getting out of this confinement and hunting down something, anything. He was itching to do what he was born to do, he needed to hunt, he needed to kill, he needed to let loose the beast he held within.

Even now, as he walked past the foul-smelling pit of human filth that was undoubtedly the residence of Henry, an experience made even worse by his enhanced senses, he felt it scratching at the corners of his mind. He'd never told any of the scientists about the voices, the whispers, the dark musings he was often prone to by himself. he was often visited by strange hallucinations and daydreams, yet he could never fully remember what it was that he bore witness to during these flights from the mundane. All that stayed with him was the scents of blood and fear, as well as a dark exhilaration that at times brought a sinister, somewhat unstable grin to his face. These small moments of insanity always left him with a strange feeling, as if something far away was beckoning him to look for it. . . find it . . . free it. Whatever these feelings were, he never dwelled on them much, pushing them to the fringes of his mind just like he did the nightmares he'd had for nearly every night for as long as he could remember.

To this day, he could never remember them once he woke up, yet he had the strange feeling that they were all the same thing, and he would find his face to be wet with freshly fallen tears, without fail. In most others, such strange occurances would've brought questions and concerns, they just weren't important to James. he cared only about doing what he was told and getting stronger, nothing more, nothing less. He never worried himself with anything else, and that had served him more than fine in his life so far.

After a few more minutes of walking, he found himself in the Archive room. He often came here to study up on he known creatures that Dalmastice had encountered and documented, as a good hunter always make sure he knows what to expect from his prey. Yet, in all of his searching, he felt like a part of him was searching for something . . . specific. Another strange yearning, and thee only one he really followed, but it was usually for naught. He had read and reread as many texts as he knew of and had access to, but nothing ever seemed to really click, though whether that was because he'd never found what he was looking for or just wasn't able to recognize it from text on a page, he didn't know.

Just as he had set down a good stack of tomes to look through, preferring to read paper reports then swipe through the sleek digitized texts that had been made available, he noticed an unknown cadet approach familiar argentette. He already had a good idea of what would happen, and merely shook his head as he opened his book, hoping that he man would take the rejection with some form of dignity. Sadly, that wasn't the case, and the cadet soon learned the error of not properly seizing up his mark before attempting to strike. Looking up from the book, he might've made a comment, something along the lines of 'Can you kick his ass a bit quieter' or 'Kick him once more for good measure', when the speakers crackled overhead. James felt his body tense slightly, a small smile slicing across his features as a familiar sense of dark pleasure coursed through his body. Finally. . . the hunt is upon us.

He was quick to lay down his chosen tome, feeling only the smallest of regrets at not getting to do his daily reading, but it was much over-shadowed by the feeling of excitement that buzzed in his veins. Getting up, he walked past Quill with a curt nod.

"See you at the Council Room."

He had made sure to memorize all of the numbers, names, and abilities of all the SOLDIERs of note that were currently in service, just incase one of them happened to go rogue. He knew the possibility was slim off such things happening, but it had happened before. 'Hope for the best, Prepare for the worst' was the old adage, and it was a good one to live by. His pace towards the Council Room was much faster than his normally languid pace, his crimson eyes seeming to shine brightly in contrast with his ash grey skin, casting a hungering look at invisbile phantoms that danced around him. Once he arrived, he took the stance and position, waiting like a good soldier along with the others their and those who were arriving, waiting to be addressed by their superiors. However, when Henry came bursting in with not a care for protocol, as was the norm with him, James couldn't help but gag a little as his heightened senses were assaulted by a nearly fatal musk of body odor radiating from the man.

"Henry, by God, when was the last time you used some fucking soap. . . or even showered? I swear, every time I'm around you, I feel like I need to wear a damn nose plug."

There was something mortally prophetic that lingered and created a stagnation of juxtaposed hope and hopelessness early in the genesis, before even the first notch of sunlight thrummed across the ridge line. It provoked a strain that took up inhabitance upon her tightened and stiff jaw muscle as she listened for the discordance and correspondence of the main star to tug at the reality she feigned cohesion amongst. The taut muscle was pressed against the cold soulless gunmetal of the R-36 particle rifle, teasing the particle accelerators with a viscous finality that had created a vague curl on her barely parted lips. The scene had remained an unflinching tableau for the antecedent dawn. The only movement to denote life signs was the soft agitation of her escaping mortality, a heated breath that licked across the barrel in listless succession just below the sight. Her eyes were a burnt umbra coated in a machinelike sheen, unblinking, refined in a death of self and exhilarated with a faux melding of femme fatale, machinery, and predawn; a corporealization of the godlike sickness that promised dominion over every flinching life sign within the scope.

The sickness was prevalent and palpable as the sympathetic mist that kissed at what little exposed skin it could find, leaving wakes of tiny dew drops that helped ground her cognizance. It seduced her aura and laid claim to it’s own exposure in the fringes of her pupils, coaxing the suffocating pupil to cynosure. The intent of all of this was muddled in training and meditation; with rumors wrapping those in a shroud of insatiable drive circumscribed in a flittering sanity so that the only one who could give meaning to this ante meridiem was the untrustworthy narrator of its experience. Rather than force an understanding she would leave the why to linger in minds more hindered by necessity of explanation than her own, she simply did; the ever malleable perfect SOLDIER.

When some intangible moment, predetermined within aberrant subconscious, struck upon the scene the lissome girl joined the living with a shifting of her tense shoulders, removing the eradicating muzzle from the play field and aiming at the once praised palace of divinity that now served as a reminder of new gods. She pulled herself groggily from the zen like contemplation of destruction and connection so that she could rise up, finding her body a poor symbiotic friend to the vociferous and malignant intent within, enough so that a pout nudged itself onto her lips. The pout did little to subdue the allurement that somehow continued to cling to her flesh; abused by a myriad of both recreational and employment incidents; but, as it seems to be with youth, the foothold of the abuses was misplaced in an immutable genetic bounty.

It was at once the same, and not the same, genetic fruition that coaxed in the latent ability; recalling wisps of atmospheric cover and harking a latent deception of form that currently strolled towards the Valkyrie bike; a feral beast by design and nature, powered by a soft hum of electricity that charged and fired to life with a prehensile nudge of her defining imprints. She had not strayed far from the central hub of the base, a little over a click out into the grounds, but it proved enough of a journey that time fabricated validation to thoughts questioning self in the philosophical limits of her overall apathy. It was not “to be, or not to be”, but rather “to become, or to recede” and her life had been such a banal tryst with recessions that she was even more hardened in the righteousness of her current placement.

Her vehement study through the scope should not be taken as indicative to a need for release, no, like many of her counterparts she found the grounds expansive and inclusive to the her needs. But there was something else: a soul quivering beckoning that was carried on the wisps of moon laced zephyrs as they whispered to her already restless spirit; a promise of harmony and understanding that rested just out of apprehension so that she spent as many waking hours in this endeavor to reclaim something that felt, misappropriated. She found a semblance of this while the guns internal operating system and her own, both freshly programmed, sorted through the scope as they reached far into the horizon; grasping for the infinite loop of nothing and everything. She never fired the gun up there. That wasn’t the point.

All of these preceding observations and insights slithered back into the mists of a tainted mind as the SOLDIER mess hall and barracks took monopoly of her outlook. The pout had long since dissipated, but she failed at any attempt for stoic and instead donned a lax smirk. A melodic and catchy doom chantey portraying the Aeons as silly creatures of rainbow deaths and fluffy bears exploding insanity began to play across her mind as she parked the Valkyrie in its designated spot. A languid movement detached her stature from the quieting bike and she adopted a jovial tempo towards the main entrance while rolling shoulders that threatened to ossify without some alleviation. By the time her carriage lined a muscle hugged hip to the mess hall door and smacked an entry she was humming the ridiculous tune at a level only audible to anyone violating her personal space.

A pair of sunglasses were tugged by digits that recalled something spider like, covering dilated pupils that persisted in a burdensome focus even as they were willed to desist. Routine ambled towards the food, unrushed. It was early yet and it seemed the heavy shift had thus far not found themselves here so she collected a mundane variation of the usual; a whole grain nut muffin, a pear, orange and glass of water. Luck found a slightly dimmer corner and abating sleeplessness inclined her head to press her ear to the calming pulse of her conditioned heartbeat cascading within the corpuscles that seemed barely contained, yet thoroughly a static resident. She would just entertain this lackadaisical pinching of food into her mouth, rest her eyes for a moment, one tiny brief insignificant fading moment

_{how long did she drift off, 15 minutes, 30?}

Sunglasses were pushed back as she raised her head, a rosewood tinted stare interrupted by an annoyance of blinking as her mind fluttered from alarm to intrigue and was caught by a man across from her. Confusion followed his out turned hand past the point of his finger and to her summons before tagging-in excitement, who rarely sauntered in without nerves. Her own voice, unused in any hominid vocalization in hours, surprised her as she thanked her compatriot before taking up a determined pace towards the Council Room. Excitement, nerves, exhaustion; the choice of culprit offers varied selections but the effect was the same, shaking fingers draw stray hair segments into narrow braids that are tucked within other braids, multitasking for the modern woman as she tried not to think of every possibility that could be clicking into place as she walked. She would know soon enough, but the eagerness seemed wired into her so much as breathing. She could only hope for an opportunity to prove herself.

---

---

“Henry, by God, when was the last time you used some fucking soap. . . or even showered? I swear, every time I'm around you, I feel like I need to wear a damn nose plug.”

Hal turned to the man with crimson eyes. James Lockehart was his name, although Hal has not called him James or Lockehart in a very long time. Not because Hal had forgotten the man’s name or even because they have never been properly introduced to each other, but because, to Hal, James Lockehart was “Sparkles.” Even Hal who chose the sobriquet acknowledged that “Sparkles” was a nickname that did not particularly fit James’s image; it was, in fact, not Hal’s first choice. He was initially going to choose something that matched James’s vampiric mien —Dracula, Batman, Vampi, Bloody-Broody, Ashes, or something along those lines—, but then, after the most trivial debate about the types of vampires depicted in various entertainment and which one should be crowned the king/queen of vampires, Hal realized that if James were to be a vampire, he’d be pretty enough to “sparkle” in the sunlight. Hal wouldn’t say this out loud, of course. He already made plenty of people upset by merely mentioning the sunlight-twinkling vampire; James might do more than be upset. Hal would rather not become a mummy, thank you. Although, based on how difficult it was for James to stand in the same room as Hal, an attempt at getting any amount of blood or organs out of his body might just turn James into ash. That’s how the vampire looked at the scientist: like he was made purely out of garlic and/or wild roses. Hal hoped it was the latter, no matter how unlikely it was.

“Is this your way of telling me I smell like roses, Sparkles? I literally took a shower less than 2 minutes ago.” It turned out, however, that it was not how James told others that they smelled like roses, a fact confirmed by Matthias’s request.

“Alright Hal, let's have a deal. I'll cook something special after this and have champagne to top it all off but,” when Matthias paused, Hal started to feel kind of bad as he watched the younger man combat the force that dominated the air —also known as Hal’s smell. “You need to tidy yourself first. I'll allow you to borrow any soap I possess as I have an assortment of them. You may even want to consider on owning one but that's up to you.”

Hal sniffed himself, but could not smell anything. Then again, he was the one living in what Athene had dubbed a pigsty; the stench probably seeped into the core of his very being. In which case, it was too late for Hal, but if it would make Matthias and James breath a little easier, he’d take a second bath. Plus, food made by Matthias. Win, win. There was, however, one little problem.

“I might need to borrow more than your soap assortments. I’ve been exiled from my own place. Unless you can convince judge Perth and Ramirez, I don’t think I can use my shower legally.” Hal smirked at Matthias, “I don’t have money, so it’d be pro bono. Wanna represent me, Lawyer?”

“Lawyer,” how original. He really needs to give Matthias a new name. Unlike, James, Hal had never actually called Matthias anything other than “Lawyer.” The name, simply stuck since the first time he said hello to Matthias. Not that “Hey, aren’t you that lawyer who killed that vice mayor on TV? I remember watching that! Terrible way to start the morning, by the way. Then again, I guess you had a sh*ttier day than me. Ahaha!” was the most appropriate “hello” he could have said to the newcomer.

Before Hal could hear Matthias’s response, Hal felt something slam right into him, punching out any air he had in his lungs. That something was Evangeline. Hal wondered where the lass was. It seemed like Athene and Haziq came to Hal’s room because the blonde asked them to, but neither of his ex-protégés gave him the chance to ask where exactly Evangeline went. They’ve known each other for so long, it didn’t feel like the day started without seeing her.

After some of their usual high-energy banter, their giant commander scolded them as if they were rowdy children disrupting class —not that the comparison was inaccurate— so they promptly took a seat. Hal tried to pick a seat farthest away from the others, especially those who were sensitive to Hal’s smell, to decrease the chances of someone fainting from lack of oxygen, but when he did, Evangeline sat right next to him. He wondered if she’d be okay, but she looked like she didn’t care, so he decided that he would only care as much as she did.

Before the debriefing began, Hal looked around the room to see who was there and noticed the President across the room. Hal’s eyes narrowed at the man’s presence, but he did nothing more beyond that before turning his head away.

Hal listened to the debriefing with little to no interest. At one point, the scientist had pulled out a pen from his pocket and started to play tic-tac-toe on the table. After he lost to himself about eight times, Bubbles also joined the game. The only time he looked up was when the President interrupted the meeting.

“You will put down any of these rebels that you come across, that is a direct order from me. I will not tolerate these SeeR to infiltrate Galbadia and I will not give them a chance to slip away. Fail to locate and dispose of them will result in a punishment that will befall upon you,” the President shot a piercing glare to each and every SOLDIER in the room. During that moment, there was split second where the President and the scientists locked eyes. Within that split second, Hal’s brained started to get into high gear, imagining, calculating, formulating hypotheses on the 101 ways to annoy the heck out of Rayne Morgenstern with the resources, or lack there of, he had at his disposal. Within that split second, his mind selected on gesture and Hal executed it. Hal kissed the air and winked in the President’s direction, mockingly. Based on his disgusting expression, the President got the message and by the time the man turned to face the Elite, he was angrier than ever, “And you.”

Hal might have snickered at the President’s displeasure if Evangeline hadn’t grabbed onto Hal so hard her fingers started to dig into his skin. He didn’t stop her, or even respond to the pain, when she did, however. Instead, he smiled at Evangeline and jokingly said, “Oh, just ignore Rayne.” His voice emphasized the name Rayne, reminding the blonde that the man was no one other than the President, “He’s just IMSing.” She didn’t respond; she probably didn’t hear a single word he had said. So he did the next best thing to calm her down by touching her arm with his free hand and gave it a light squeeze, “Breathe Bubbles, he can’t hurt you.” Seeing that he did the gesture only a few moments before the debriefing was over, it was difficult to tell if one or the other —possibly both— helped, but when the council was adjourned, Evangeline regained her energetic self.

Hal watched the woman jump about like a child excited for the upcoming trip before he walked over to Matthias with equal enthusiasm, but for vastly different reasons. His eyes glittered with anticipation just like a dog would at the promise of food. He grinned.

---

---

---

“Are you not taking this mission seriously, or do you have a death wish or something?”

Hal was stuffing his face with the food Matthias had so graciously provided him at dock number four when the twin Commanders came over to him. The scientist glanced down at his breakfast. “I’m pretty sure Lawyer doesn’t hate me enough to kill me just yet… Unless he thought I stink so much that he decided the world would be better without me. Or maybe I’m going to die from the food being so good… Huh… not a bad way to go.”

Rene rolled his eyes and stole one of Hal’s desserts as he sat down next to him. Ignoring Hal’s protests, the giant took a good bite out of the sweet, “I’m talking about your stuff. Why aren’t you wearing armor and where’s your stuff, in general? Don’t tell me you’re going on this mission wearing civvies and bringing nothing else?”

"I have been forbidden to enter my realm. Not even the mighty warrior of justice could help me take it back." Afraid of any more of his food being stolen, Hal moved his breakfast farther from Rene’s reach, “Weeeeell, even if I did, I still wouldn't have equipped the armor. You know that if I wore anything heavier than cloth, I’d faint from fatigue before any battle started.”

“You say that as if you’re planning to fight.”
“AHAHAHA! Oh, Ghost, you’re such a comedian!”
“Yeah, I thought that was a good one too.” Rene threw the rest of the dessert into his mouth, “But really, where’s your armor?”

Hal stood up slowly as his eyes looked into the distance. Leaning on the most convenient object near by, he began to sing, “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high. There's a land that I heard of once in—… Hey! Hey! Hey! Get your hands away from my food! They’re mine!”
“Then just answer the f*cking question, you jackass.”
“I don’t know where that thing is. I misplaced it the day I got it.”

“Of course you’d loose it the first day it’s assigned to you.”
“It can literally be anywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was taken by the great civilization Verts Gris.”
“I’m… going to regret asking what you’re talking about, aren’t I?”
“I don’t think so? Maybe? Well, at least you’ll know why Athene is pissed off?”
“Because of you?”
Hal contemplated on how to retort the comment, but ultimately gave up on the idea entirely, “Okay, yeah, because of me.” Hal sat back down, “To answer the question you technically haven’t asked yet, Verts Gris is the name I gave to the bacteria colony that’s been growing behind the dresser.”
“I thought your room was cleaned four days ago.”
“It was.”
“How are there bacterial colonies growing already?”
“Magic!”
“Or?”
“Or, I found and cultivated a bacterial colony for study.”
“Ah, yes. ‘Found.’ Learn to clean your own damn room, Al.”

Kimberly, who had been quiet the entire time, spoke up, concern written all over zher face and ever present in zher voice, “Dr. Rainer… you… should take better care of yourself.”

At first, Hal wasn’t sure what the doctor was talking about then he realized that zhe was talking about his room. “Oh? I think I spoil myself more than most people.” Hal smirked, “Spoiled. You know… spoiled? Like… the stuff in my room? Eh? Eeeeh?” Hal tried not to snicker at his own joke, waiting for Kimberly to smile. Zhe did no such thing. Zher expression did not change, if anything, it felt as if zher mood got even gloomier. The pun was bad as the ones Rene would say on occasion, yes, but the problem laid somewhere else.

Kimberly opened zher mouth to say something, but after a moment of consideration Hal noticed that zhe decided to say something else, “You need to treat yourself better than this.” Hal rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable of how seriously Kimberly was worried about his filthy room.

“Rainer!”

The group of three turned their heads to the source of the voice. Athene and Haziq were walking towards them with boxes occupying their hands. In addition to the unknown boxes, Athene had an electronic clipboard and Haziq was holding a bag.

Rene was the first one to greet them, “They live!”

Haziq smiled, “Barely. We had to fight our way out of that place.”
“Let me guess! You were attacked by the great civilization Verts Gris?”

The two scientists exchanged quizzical looks at each other, “What?”

“Shhhhhhhh!” Hal cut in, “Verts Gris is supposed to be our little secret!”
“Really? Sorry, man. Ignore what I said then.”

Athene gave a particularly dirty look at her old mentor. Convinced that she’d do more than just glare at him if he let the silence continue, Hal quickly changed the subject, “So! Seeing that you guys are here, does that mean I can return to my room?”
“No.” Haziq said.
“Aww...”
“We brought you gifts!”
“YAY!”

Haziq smiled as he gave Hal a full traveling bag, “To start off, here’s you’re stuff. We only packed what we thought you’d need during the mission.”
“Thanks. I feel like it would have been a lot faster and easier if I went into my room and packed the bag myself, but thanks.”
“Oh, oh,” Haziq opened one of the boxes and fished out a familiar bottle. “And don’t forget this. Remember to keep record of—…” Haziq watched Hal take the bottle and chuck the expensive drug as far as he could while booing. “You ASS!” Haziq said as he ran off to the side retrieve the prescription bottle.

Athene was waiting for Kimberly to verify the list of medical supplies when Hal threw the bottle off into the distance. She glared at the man and crossed her arms, “What’s the matter with you? You know how valuable medicine are these days?”
“That’s why I threw it over there and not outside. You know, like a reasonable adult.”
“A mature individual wouldn’t have thrown it anywhere.”

Haziq came running back to the dock with the bottle in hand, “Found it.”

Hal smiled and reached for the bottle, “Good boy! Now let’s see if you can catch it again.” Before Hal’s fingertips could even touch the plastic, a mist of air freshener attacked him from the side.

“Haziq! Quickly! While you still have the chance!” Athene shouted as she continued to spray Hal mercilessly with the air freshener. While Haziq ran over to the head doctor, Hal screamed, “You cursed woman! Look what you've done! I'm melting! Melting! Oh, what a world! What a world! Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh....” The man felt to the ground and lay there motionless with his tongue hanging out.

Rene glanced over at Hal’s breakfast, “Does this mean I can have the rest?”

“Oh, hell no!” Hal jumped right back onto his feet to go defend his breakfast.

While zher twin brother attempted to take what remained of Hal’s breakfast, Kimberly inspected the medicine bottle. Zhe looked up when Haziq called zher name, “Dr. Faye, is everything all right?”
“Yes, everything is all right. Everything seems to be in place.”

Athene walked over to the group, “Except that we can’t rely on that insufferable man-child to take the medication.”

Kimberly gave Athene a soft smile, “I have already contacted Miss Young on the matter, Dr. Perth. She will make sure that the individuals in need of medication will receive them when they are needed. As this team’s medic, it will be her responsibility to keep records her team member’s mental and physical conditions. She will be providing periodic updates on the SOLDIER’s status. Including whether or not someone does not take their medicine.”

Athene turned around to see that Hal and Rene’s tiff over food turned into a full-on hand-flailing scuffle. She sometimes questioned why she even tried putting up with her old mentor. “I wonder if I should give Young a box of air fresheners.”
“Why? Evangeline’s will be there. He wouldn’t be able to skip bath time even if he wanted to.”
“I mean, for when he has to take his medication. I have a feeling he’s going to give her a hard time.”
“Nah, I wouldn't worry about it. Quill could totally whip Henri into submission.”

---

---

Quill felt a little uncomfortable during the meeting. The conflict of interests that presented itself worried her. As the teams official medic, she felt that she had to save as many lives as possible and even though she was trained in combat and, just recently, kicked some guy's ass, she didn't like killing without cause. She was worried the President's motive behind wanting them dead was more than just concern for SOLDIER. She didn't press the matter though. She was going on a mission, finally.

During the meeting she met the glances of her now formed team. She had her opinions on each of them. She didn't have any strong opinions though, she only knew them from training. She talked to a few of them, but never much more than passing words. She hoped they would be ok with her being their healer.

As she exited, one of the medical team shouted at her, "Miss Young! Real quick!"

She turned to face the man. He was small and, in her opinion, quite dorky, with thinning hair and beady eye glasses. She waited, "Yes?"

He adjusted his glasses and grinned, "Sorry to bother you, I know you need to get ready for the mission, but I was told to ask you if you got the list of medication recipients."

Quill tilted her head, "Yes, Kimberly contacted me recently and had the list sent over. In fact, before I was stopped, I was on my way to the lab to pick up said medications."

The man fidgeted nervously, "Sorry, deeply sorry. I know, I'm so stupid!" he hit himself in the forehead, "STUPID!" she held up her arms to stop him, but he stopped and sighed, "I meant to tell you good luck. You're a role model for us lowly medical jockeys." he gave her a thumbs up and trotted off back down the hallway.

She stood there in silence for a minute. She gave a small smile.

---

---

After picking up her supplies, the medications, her weapon, and her books. She got dressed quickly and headed out towards the docks. She passed by a few people who glanced at her. She nodded at them and continued on.

As she entered the docks, she saw a few members of her team. She walked over and set her things on the ground and leaned against the wall, waiting for the others to come.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Ebony steel flushed against silver alloy, all harsh, gleaming, slicing edges and polished to be just as refined and gilded in a deadly sheen. Rayne's office in the SOLDIER compound was bequeathed to him in the manner of underhanded rage and a bestial method that most politicians garnered by experience and selection. Rayne stood at full attention, gazing at nothing in particular from the window in his office suite that had been built into place as a key component of his observations. He was constantly deducing, calculating, a mind ever swarmed by processes that sometimes bled and purged into emotional outbursts and statement that bade glares, sneers and ill-favouring from the SOLDIERS under his present authority. But, he seemed dismissive of them, entirely so much that a bored sigh slid past biting-gleaming teeth and his eyes cut over to the SOLDIER that he had summoned to his domicile of command. Having requested that John stand there, at full attention and in a stance of clasped hands and feet spread a pre-determined width apart in juncture with his shoulders, Rayne finally took reaction.

”I presume you're unaware of why I pulled you from your original squad,” the President began, gesturing with immaculate fingers sheathed in ebony leather towards the window's view. ”The reports of your missions and technique is exactly what I need.”

Rayne vacated his position of careful screening and angled his profile to peer at his personal selection. ”There was a new mission given and debriefed - I presume you heard the announcement - and the SOLDIERS selected are.. new. But my reasoning for this is that I'll be putting you on the squadron unit, sort of as my insurance policy. I need your skills and I trust your method.” He laid emphasis on a few words, keying and gesturing with his powerful timbre to inflict purpose upon his statements. He trusted naught the warrior, but rather the brutality lain bare within the killer.

”You will tell no one of your mission, SOLDIER. I need you to kill any and all SeeR you find that they might try to preserve and keep alive. Full details of the mission are given here, in this missive.” Rayne lazily tossed a folder containing all the information that had been previously provided to the aforementioned SOLDIERS, letting it fall at the booted feet of his attentive warrior. ”They're meeting at deployment gate four, familiarize yourself with the contents on the way, assemble and dispose of that missive properly. Should any of the Commanders object to your addition, I'll be there to silence their disobedience.” He concluded, and waved his hand in dismissal, resuming his observation and surveying the compound beneath the window of his office-suite, a slow smile carved into cheeks and he bore the simper - briefly - that of a madman.

---

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

John immediately followed the orders of his commander and picked up the missive, briskly walking out of the office. He made his way down the corridors, each foot firmly planted on the ground sending out a distinct clicking sound, which bounced off the steel walls and slowly made its way further and further down. Other SOLDIERS made their way past John, some lowering their heads as though they didn’t want him to notice them - a common gesture amongst those who’d heard of the man. He turned a corner and made his way into an empty room, before grabbing a lonely bag he’d set aside earlier and zipping it open. John pulled out a padded, all-black second skin. He took off the polished, black boots, standard cargo pants and plain gray crewneck t-shirt he was wearing, before sliding the second skin onto his body. It left only his head exposed, with a thin turtleneck type thing covering his neck. The clothes he wore originally went into the bag, before it was zipped back up and set on the floor.

John then opened a pocket on the bag, pulling out a small, white, cube. It had straight, yet intricate, linework carved into it, which John ran a finger across. The linework began to glow, and he set the cube down on the floor. Piece by piece, the cube separated itself, before expanding, creating armour pieces that slotted themselves onto the SOLDIER, curving over his bodysuit and clicking into place, the padding from the suit providing both extra protection and comfort with the armour.

The SOLDIER picked up a small, flat, white diamond-shaped piece that remained on the floor, and slotted it into the torso of his armour, in order for him to convert it to the lighter mode when need be. A flat, white disc was then secured onto his right wrist, just where the armour ended, to serve as the transmitter for his scythe. Finally, John went through the missive, memorizing the contents and shoving it in his bag, zipping it all back up and securing everything. Satisfied, the SOLDIER slung the bag over his shoulder and exited the room, making his way down towards deployment dock four.

---

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

John began to think of the meeting he'd had mere minutes before, and Rayne warning that the other SOLDIERs might attempt to keep some of the SeeR alive. He then began to contemplate what lengths they'd go to to accomplish that task, and if he would be able to accomplish his own objective smoothly. The SOLDIER shook his head, as though trying to shake all the thoughts out of his head before it got too crowded.

Reaching the deployment dock, John found a quiet corner for him to reside in, in order for him to get a better look at who he was working with, and how expendable they might be. It would also be handy to know which ones wouldn’t really effect SOLDIER if a sudden turn of events meant they would unfortunately perish - he would go to great lengths to see his goal finished, and he had no doubt some of them would do the same. Luckily, he was prepared for that.

Though, as he looked around, he began to wonder if these people were even fit to be in a kitchen, let alone a battlefield. There were two SOLDIERS acting like immature children, with one of them stealing the other’s food. It was only at second glance did John recognize the man to be an Elite SOLDIER, no less. He let out an exaggerated - albeit quiet - sigh, and watched the scene unfold. One more Elite showed up, who wasn’t amused by the SOLDIERS’ actions, by the looks of it.

They soon disappeared into the picture, however, as two more walked over, though John didn’t recognize them. Regardless, they were just as immature as the one with the glasses (who was throwing what seemed like medication away), as the woman then sprayed him relentlessly with air freshener as the man ran over to the second Elite who joined the charade. And after pathetically faking melting (his voice was echoing practically everywhere) the childish man jumped up to defend his food from the Elite SOLDIER who was making another attempt to steal it.

Quite sick of the childish demeanour the two were pulling off, now flapping their arms at each other in girly fits of dispute, John heaved himself up and walked over, clearing his throat.

”Commander, I’ve been requested by President Rayne to join the group on this mission, just in case. I hope this is alright with you, sir. The President was quite impressed with my previous missions, and figured the group could use some experienced backup.”

Words rolled off his tongue effortlessly, all forming into one conjunctive lie. Well, it was more of a cover story, to secure the secrecy of his intended goal. It had become a bit of a habit, now, as it wasn’t the first time he’d had slightly different morals and intentions to others. To him, it was normal - being a dog of the capital meant he had to get his hands dirty. Even if that meant with SOLDIER blood.

---

James Lockehart, Briefing Room

---

"Just running water over yourself isn't a shower," was James response, his eyes rolling slightly as he did so. The SOLDIER's nickname, while irritating, was something he just accepted and didn't raise much fuss over. He didn't care what people called him, as long as they didn't bother him a majority of the time. Barring that little disturbance, everyone else arrived in a relatively normal fashion, though one person's arrival did bring about the usual amount of confusion as was to be expected of such a person.

Ah, the enigma of Fort Lullin, Evangeline. How such innocence can not only survive, but thrive in this place is a miracle in and of itself. Hmmm, I wonder if the idea to become a SOLDIER was her own, she doesn't seem the type, but then again, appearances can be deceiving.

After Evangeline was lightly scolded for her behavior, the commanding officers briefed them all on their mission, an interesting bit of search and destroy in a town known as Mihril, with the exciting part being that the SeeR forces had a deserter amongst them from SOLDIER. A hungry gleam entered James' eyes as he thought of testing himself against another SOLDIER, not in the mock bouts they have hear, but in true combat. He wasn't arrogant enough to think that he'd be able to do so on his own, but just the chance to face off against someone with the balls to desert SOLDIER was just what he wanted for his first mission.

But the first problem is going to be finding him and then-Oh, it's him.

James' eyes went from excited to bored and slightly resentful as President Rayne entered the room, shouting orders to them all that went in one ear and out the other as far as the red eyed man was concerned. Rayne was a politician, and thus, was nothing but talk and bluster. If he was put in a room with any one of them, he'd last for about a fraction of a second, if that. He was a man who seemed to let his emotions get the best of him whenever SeeR was involved. While James could respect the man's tenacity and force of presence, his lack of control and not letting those with the actually know how do their job irked him to no end. That and the fact that he treated none of the SOLDIERs with respect or dignity made him James least favorite person by far.

When the man gave his final outburst, staring each of them in their eyes in an effort to intimidate them, James return the glare with one of his own. In the split second that their gazes were locked, James loosened his hold on the beast, just enough for his eyes to suddenly gain a dangerous level of animalistic ferocity to them. Matched with the curling of his lip and the ever so subtle beginnings of a growl that would be hard to detect for most unless they were right next to him. As soon as the man looked away, he reigned the beast back into it;s cell in his subconscious, taking a deep breath to calm his senses and focus his thoughts.

Was it smart to test the fates like that, nearly letting his berserker side out even a little to antagonize a man that could have him killed on the spot? No, not in the slightest, but he had to admit that he felt immensely satisfied. He may be nothing more than a hunting dog in the eyes of the higher-ups, a fact he was more than fine with, but that didn't mean he had to follow their orders happily.

---

Soldier Base Hallway

---

Once they were dismissed, James made his way to his room, once again feeling the tremors of excitement enter his heart. His pace quickened as he hurried to make his way to his lodging, wanting to don his armor and head for the meeting place without a seconds delay. He always had his gear ready to be collected at a moment's notice, and since he carried no weapon, he had less stuff to manage then most. However, as he rounded a corner, he happened upon the odd sight of Evangeline caressing the face of another Soldier(A man by the name of Cidolphus Escovane, Saboteur, bit strange but James felt he had no right t truly judge him). The sight caused him to pause slightly, not because of those involved, but because the action itself brought strange feelings to the fore. For a split second, the two were replaced with shadowy indistinct figures, their voices indistinct and formless, yet he felt such a sense of joy, sadness, and loss when he saw them.

The vision was gone as soon as it appeared, leaving him with not but a small tear to make it's way down his face. He stood still for a second, watching the two go their separate ways, before wiping the tear and the moment away without a second thought. While events like that weren't exactly common, pretty rare in fact, this wasn't the first time that James had been haunted by his past. And like every other time, he wanted nothing to do with them. All he felt in them were intense feelings of emotions that left him feeling strange, ill, and deeply unsettled. Something had happened to him, and he didn't wish to know what. He told himself that it was because he simply didn't care to know, and that was true for the most part, but deep down in his mind, deeper than he was consciously aware, he knew that it was fear that kept his curiosity at bay. Fear of what would become of him if he dug into his past, of the horrors he'd have to witness, of the pain he'd have to endure. Something deep and tragic had happened to him, and had been erased to keep him sane by those in charge of thee SOLDIER program, and as far as he was concerned, he'd like to keep it that way.

Continuing on his way, he would soon cross paths with the energetic nymph, her boundless energy bursting from every action and movement, par for the course. As his stride came to match her's he couldn't help but make a comment, half because of his personal need to joke about things and half because he was curipous to see what kind of reaction he could draw from the strange girl.

"You know, if Henry were to caressing another man's face in such a manner, he might get jealous."

There was a brief pause following the utterance of his quip, a jest, surely, but probing none the less when skips stilled and jovial performances quieted down to disarming blinks and lashes as sable and blue met red. One could only estimate what spear-headed through the constantly wreathed process of her consciousness addled exuberance.

"You're a funny one," Evangeline responded, her answer tilting into a bought of giggling fanfare as she looped her slender arm through his and went to resume her flouncing cheer, new companion laced to her side.

"Hally is Hally," she chirped, patting the span of his forearm as if to reassure James. "And the other is, oh, uh, well. I don't know his name. But, he's nice. You get to really know someone by looking in their eyes, didn't you know?" Her inquiry bore no factual weight meant to be answered, but merely tossed as a method of information.

Well that told me about as much as could be expected. . . James thought as he allowed himself to be dragged by the ball of energy and happiness that was Evangeline. At her strange comment regarding eyes, he merely looked down at her with a curiously bemused expression.

"Interesting tidbit, I'll be sure to keep it in mind, though I'm a bit curious now. What can you tell about me from my eyes?"

Another pause, another meeting of their respective gazes, and she giggled once more all the same.
"Oh, going to think Hally will get jealous of you now?" She quipped, equally teasing and still wreathed in giggles before she inclined to his request. Evangeline's hold tightened on his arm briefly, cinching her arm within his before she spun around to face his profile and reached up, fingers poised on slender cheeks and harsh expressions as she too peered deep into the depths of his crimson pools.

"It's not you," she muttered, nails scraping flesh in a small flutters, not enough to scratch, but enough to be recognized. "Wrong colour, too dark you know?" Evangeline canted her head to one side, blonde fringe sweeping to cover the slick of her sable eye. "You're kind of different, but all the same. Just not you." Her fingers fled from his cheeks and she resumed her arm being laced together with his before she prattled on again.

"Doesn't make sense does it? I don't know - wait, what's your name? Hally calls you Sparkles, but I mean, you don't glitter, so."

"Heh, as if I'd be so petty as to try and make that guy jealous." James smirked at Evangeline teasing, though this quickly turned into a look of confusion as she began to feel up his face. He went with it, staring into her mismatched eyes with his own, even trying to see if he could sense anything from her. His concentration was broken by her voice, the answer she gave being one he didn't expect but certainly felt was correct in regards to who he was.

"It makes sense enough, though I must say that while these eyes may not be mine,I enjoy the darkness they hold. I'm pretty sure that it's the only thing keeping me sane. As for my name, it's James Lockehart, and please don't make a habit out if calling me . . . 'Sparkles'. It's something that I'd rather not have rookie get used to calling me." James sighed, wondering if Henry would even show up on time to the meeting area. How a guy like that ever joined SOLDIER, I'll never know.

Turning his attention back to the girl, his face taking on a slightly exasperated expression as a thought entered his head.

"Besides the Commanders and Henry, do you know any of the other SOLDIERs by their names?"

"Your darkness is your sanity, I get that," she responded almost automatically, answering James in a quick, wisp of a cadence in reflection of her usual cheer. "We don't have much that left."

Evangeline's smile, though it had waned, immediately perked up, bearing into one of her usual grins of teeth and all that carved into her pallid cheeks. At the mention of his name, she nodded, seeming to seriously consider his given moniker. "James Lockehart.. A locked heart; a shield." Perplexity coloured her visage. "I know that name, don't I? That name is certainly your own though. I'll call you.. James." She squeezed his arm in finality, sealing the name whilst not bequeathing him with a terrible nickname unlike their fellow SOLDIER who had a terrible penchant for it.

"Unless you want a nickname better than Sparkles, I'll be hard pressed to come up with one, but I'm sure Hally wouldn't mind. We could make it a competition!" Her excitement spun into a manic disposition, but before she could carry off in a tangent of potential epitaphs, her bi-coloured eyes swept up the ashen planes of his face, mimicking his expression.

She sighed, exasperated and teased. "Of course I do, James. I know numbers, codes, profiles and those intricacies about you. But names are given, personal, I like to be given them not take them."

James eyes flickered over to Evangeline, noting how his statement had affected her. It wasn't often that something managed to put a damper on her spirits, even if it was only for a second. Tucking that interesting little reaction away for reference, his expression instantly took on a irritated grimace as she spoke of making a competition between her and Henry over who could come up with the best nickname for him.

"Just James will do fine, thank you, I'd rather not encourage him to put anymore thought into the matter than he already has." James said with a sigh, only to raise an eyebrow curiously as the Evangeline threw his words back in his face. He blinked once, going over what she said in his head, before laughing a little at himself for assuming her interesting nature was a sign of her lacking in intelligence. She was a Saboteur, after all. Information gathering was their field of expertise. "My apologies, I shouldn't have assumed. Though I must say, that is an interesting little philosophy you have their. Can't say I share it, though maybe that because I can't remember what meaning my name had."

A petulant pout creased the perpetual smirk of her mouth, broadcasting her displeasure in being denied a competition with their SOLDIER comrade. Slender arms laced across the ebony armour corseted around her torso, effectively surrendering their laced arms, and snug under her bosom as she tipped her head in the opposite direction and seemed to examine the bland extremities of the residential hall.

His rapid follow up of an apology seemed to garner a reaction, resulting in mismatched pools sweeping through lashes and cutting into his direction as he remarked upon her previous philosophy. "Apology accepted." Evangeline chirped, a smile sweeping across the tilt of her mouth. "I'm sure your name has purpose, a story, a legend within its' gift to you." She held up a finger, obnoxiously embellished in a pink polish still but beginning to flake, and pistol-shot it in his direction, flourished with a wink of her blue eye. "Or it does not. Who knows! Maybe we'll find the meaning of our names in the battle field. Can you imagine?" Evangeline gushed, and began bounding down the hall, skipping, with sallow fabric fluttering around ankles and wrists.

"I can't wait to fight, there's something about the finality of a duel that makes me feel.. Something."

"Now that's something we both have in common. The thought of finally testing my skills on the field . . .it's makes it hard to keep still." James returned her smile with a grin, before turning his head to look down a branching hallway. "Ah, this is where we part ways, my room's down that way and I still need to get my gear ready. See you later, and here's to us making it back in one piece, yeah." He gave a slight wave of farewell to the nymph-like girl before making his way down to his quarters.

Before he could make much progress, however, Evangeline skipped over to give him a small hug, giving him that same innocent grin as always before she scampered off to elsewhere, probably to prep for the upcoming mission, and leavingJanes to stare for a second in the direction she left in. "Well, I guess concepts such as personal space don't mean much to her, do they? I don't think I have met someone as touchy-feely as she tends to be. Makes me wonder if she is even aware of such ideas in the first place." He gave a small chuckle at the outspoken thought before he continued on his way to his room.

James room was kept simple and bare, leaving only essentials around in a semi-ordered fashion. His armor was currently hanging on a stand, the violet and black coating giving an almost otherworldy feel to it. With a practiced ease, he set about removing the various pieces of the armor and equipping them to his frame, starting from the legs and moving up to the head, the imposing helmet being the final piece. Once the suit was online, a small HUD woukd appear in front of his eyes as the visual receptors began to boot up. It was just basic info about the suit's systems, his own state of body, and a read out on how much corruption he had stored in the suit, which was currently none. Once he checked everything out and made sure there were no problems, he was finally ready.

"Activating Armor . . . Bio-enhancement Acquisition Code: Hades . . . System Diagnostics and Life Support System Code: By the River Styx . . . Final Priming Code: Cerburus Unchained." As he spoke the phrases neccessary to turn on the suits systems, a low hum, imperceptible to most but clear as day to James, echoed through out the room. The suit would suddenly compress a little, making sure every piece of the armor wa fitting just right, before a series of cybernetic tendrils wormed their way underneath bulkier parts of the armor, covering the underarmor in a weave similar to that of muscle fibers. Once they were all connect, James would instantly feel a jolt of energy move through his body as the dark power within him began to flow between the Armor and his body, strengthening it as well as filling the suits stores of corruption.

"Ahhhhh . . . That never gets old. . . everything seems fine and proper, so time for me to go down to the deployment bay." Grabbing any other supplies he may need or have been issued, he quickly made his way to the area. Upon arrival, he was surprised to see that they had a new arrival on board for the mission. A curious add-on, but as long as he didn't interfere, it shouldn't be too bothersome. Hell, they could always use another body on the ground.

James made no move to interact with those already assembelled beyond a nod of acknowledgment before taking a seat, seeming to be as aloof to the coming mission as anything else. It was only the steady tapping beat of his foot against the floor that gave away his eagerness to be gone, as his features were now hidden away by the intimidating faceplate of his Cerburus Armor.

---

---

As the meeting ended, three things came to mind. Firstly, a SeeR team has invaded Galbadia and President Rayne had gathered a group of the newest but finest SOLDIER operatives to take care of the problem. He wanted them killed, eliminated from the equation completely. Secondly, Commander Magdalena wanted to detain any rebels they find, avoiding any killing if they can. Thirdly, Rayne had insisted that no mercy was to be given to these SeeR operatives. So there and then provided her with a dilemma. Whose orders should she follow?

Perhaps she'll go along with the group. She'll see. Keep her options open for the time-being. You never know how new circumstances might come into play much later on. Whether they like it or not, they all had one hour to prepare, before their ride leaves for the border of Luan, where the team would then cross over into Zalera. Beatrice had taken the opportunity to look over at her fellow SOLDIERs who were to be her team.

Three people stood out in particular to her. The first being the 'Mountain', Kain, the hulk of a man she saw earlier, besting the man at training. The second was a fellow blonde, except ten times more bubbly and five times more skittery. She'd never had the chance to meet the woman before, and therefore did not know her name. The third person was a bearded bespectacled man who seemed entirely too cheerful.

The rest of the team seemed to be complaining about his smell, and how he needed another bath. She had no problem with him. He didn't stink as much as she thought he would when he went near him. She knew the name of this peculiar individiual though. Dr. 'Hal' Rainer. Supposedly the stinkiest people in the whole of SOLDIER. He had quite the reputation, and it was difficult not to know who he was. A legend within SOLDIER, most would say.

Heading back to her bunk, Beatrice took a quick shower. Who knows when their next shower might be, or if at all? When she was done, the blonde got dressed in a clean set of uniform, before putting on her combat armour. The black inner suit came first, before the layer consisting the metallic plates went over it, acting the main protective portion of the armour. Fully dressed and equipped, she opened her cabinet and retrieved a fully-packed duffel back that she had packed for situations like these.

It contained several sets of clean extra clothing/uniform and a set of extra necessities. Securing her weapon securely on a custom-made sheath/sling combo, Beatrice started to make her way towards Deployment Dock Four. It was almost time. If she wasted anymore time, she would be late.

---

---

As Beatrice arrived at Deployment Dock Four, the blonde could see the most of team was already there. Figures, how she always had to be one of the last to arrive. She definitely need a better management of her time. Recognising the bearded bespectacled man she saw earlier at the meeting she knew as Hal, she walked over to him, before tapping him on the shoulder. The blonde spoke. "Hey, YOU, funny guy! Tell me a good joke?"

---

It has always been a hard sensation to describe to others. Not even his twin, who had been with him since conception, could truly understand this feeling. An odd sensation where “something” that is not of his own inundates him. It is sudden as it is fierce. All of the nerves in his body flared up like wildfire; every sense became so sharp that the word hypersensitive could not adequately describe the amount of sensory input that bombarded the brain with information. It was chaotic. The Commander could hear, see, smell, taste, and “touch” everything that no normal man could. Yet, there was clarity in the chaos. By the time the sensation melted away and he came to, he knew something was wrong… and, for once, it had nothing to do with Hal.

The Commander of the Sentinels was glaring at John even before he turned around to actually look at the newcomer’s face.

"Commander, I’ve been requested by President Rayne to join the group on this mission, just in case. I hope this is alright with you, sir. The President was quite impressed with my previous missions, and figured the group could use some experienced backup.”

Rene said nothing at first. He just continued to glare at the man in front of him. He had no evidence to support his suspicions: only his gut instinct. But his intuition has yet to fail him. Although he could not deny the fact that the chance of error increased depending on how he interpreted what his senses picked up. “No. I’m not ‘all right’ with it,” the giant finally said, “but it doesn’t matter how I feel about it, does it? You’re going anyways.” The tone in zher twin’s voice made Kimberly look at him, then quizzically at John.

Before an awkward silence had the chance to make the atmosphere really uncomfortable, Beatrice walked over to Hal and asked, “Hey, YOU, funny guy! Tell me a good joke?” out of the blue. Silence of the different variety descended upon the group.

This time it was Rene who put an end to the awkwardness. “Don’t you get it?” his giant hand placed itself on Hal’s back, “He IS the joke.”

“I think you skipped over the set-up.”

“I did? Oh, sorry, let me do it again.” Rene cleared his throat, “This man’s a SOLDIER.” Rene and Beatrice stared into each other’s eyes for a beat or so before Rene added, “You’ll have to look at Al, and I mean really look at Al, to get the joke. Cause he’s the punchline.”

Hal suddenly laughed out loud. “Oh, Ghost! You crack me up! Here’s a tip,” the scientist stuffed the Commander’s mouth with the last bit of dessert he had. “There. You got what you wanted. Now leave before you tarnish my already terrible reputation.”

Rene smirked a bit and started to walk out of the docks, bumping —oh so obviously on purpose— into John, before continuing to talk off without apologizing. “Good luck with the mission.” His voice dipped an octave, “You’ll need it.”

He could hear Kimberly in the distance calling out his name before and after zhe apologized to John for zher brother’s rudeness. He even heard zher food steps following him at one point, but he didn’t stop for zher: he had to follow John’s scent before it dulled completely.

It was hardly surprising that the scent led him to the President's Office so soon.

---

---

---

‘Keep an eye on him.’ That was what Rene had signed on Hal’s back while they were bantering in front of Beatrice. Although the warning was appreciated, it was unnecessary: he recognized Rayne’s dog fairly early on. He even had a name to put to the face in front of him.

The average life expectancy of SOLDIERs was pretty short compared to the rest of the capital’s population —despite the various advantages that came with being a SOLDIER—, largely due to the ongoing war. SOLDIERs over the age of 35 were the minority, thus John Olsen (age 37) stuck out like a sore thumb whether he liked it or not. There are roughly two types of SOLDIERs who lived that long: the ones who would do anything and everything to survive and cowards —there was a third type too, but they were rare as unicorns: the ones forced to live on the basis that they were still useful in some significant manner to someone of importance. Not that that being ruthless or cowardly was a bad thing: a majority of the people under the government’s umbrella could be separated into similar categories: cowards who make others fight; the others who have no choice, but to fight to live; and the cowards who managed to avoid being chosen to be the other coward’s meat shield and sword... and did everything in their power to keep it that way. The world had a tendency of loosing the best of humanity too early, so ends up being dominated by what remained.

“Huh… Well then,” Hal said after the Faye twins left the docks, “we haven’t introduced ourselves have we?” He smiled at his two teammates, “As Funshine ingeniously deduced, my true name is ‘You Funny Guy,’ but people usually don’t believe me when I say that, so go ahead and remember me as Henri.”

He turned his head to look at John then realized something important: he didn’t think of a nickname for him. Then again, John wasn’t originally supposed to be part of the group, so Hal didn’t think he’d have to. Hal started to tilt his head back and forth in thought. He stared into the windows to John’s soul to search for something, but nothing that could really fit came to mind. This was going to be as hard as it was with James, maybe even harder. The longer he thought about it, the more his head started to hurt. Perhaps he should stop thinking, then? Best idea he had all day.

“Uh, you’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Olsen. I need more time to come up with a nickname for you.”

---

---

Some people can look into another person’s eyes and tell what kind of individual said person is, but for those who lack such refined skills there is another, much easier, way to see what kind a person one is without directly interacting with them: look at their room.

Kimberly was standing in front of Hal’s room with the door open. Considering the amount of time the scientist’s protégés had, they did a good job: the pigsty had successfully transformed into a moderately dirty room with a lot of trash bags that were ready to be taken outside.

Dirty rooms, constant smiles both fake and real, the dark emotions that ran deeper than anyone could ever imagine. They were two different people, but they seemed to have more in common than the twins who were actually related to her.

Their mother smiled a lot, almost all the time, in fact. Even after their father’s death she kept smiling. That’s why everyone thought that she was okay. She was smiling all the time: that must mean she’s fine. She managed to take care of her children without any trouble and, more importantly, the twins were happy. ‘What a strong woman she is.’ ‘Nothing can crush her spirit.’ She tricked everyone, including the twins, and perhaps even herself. She was the greatest actress in the world, but her great and final act would not have been possible if any of her adoring fans had noticed the signs. All it needed to take for the whole act to crumble was for one person to see the one difference. The twin’s mother may have been good at keeping up appearances, but there was one room in the house that had drastically changed after her husband’s death: her room. Each day, it got dirtier and dirtier. She kept smiling, but she stopped caring about herself. No one can last long with such mentality. And she didn’t.

Something about Hal’s room, reminded Kimberly of zher mother’s. It was the kind of messy that felt more like self-mutilation. It is why zhe knew that simply cleaning his room, scolding him about it, would not change anything: trash would start to pile up once again. No matter how hard or how many times they reset everything, to start a new, he would never truly forget why his room got this bad. Or perhaps Kimberly was overthinking things: seeing stuff that wasn’t there and giving meaning to things that were meaningless.

Kimberly snapped out of the thought when zhe heard someone calling zher name. “What are you doing here?” Haziq asked the head doctor.

“I tried… and obviously failed… to catch my brother.”

Haziq stared at the doctor, suspicion colored his expression, but when zhe would not say anything more, he simply “accepted” zher explanation.

“Why are you here?” Kimberly asked.

“I came back to finish up what I can before I head back to my actual work.” Haziq smiled at Kimberly, “Do you know how many people seem think that my job is to baby sit Henri? It’s staggering, really. Believe it or not, we’re not getting paid for cleaning his room.”

“That might be true, but you wouldn’t be cleaning if you didn’t care, right?”

Haziq’s smile twitched ever so slightly before it weakened, “I suppose.”

Zhe noticed, but returned Haziq’s earlier generosity by not prying. Instead, zhe offered to help throw out the garbage; a request, which regained Haziq’s smile instantaneously.

The two walked into the room; Haziq, to continue cleaning, and Kimberly, to grab some filled trash bags. The doctor waltzed over to the first garbage bag in sight and smiled slightly when zhe saw it was full of paper; more specifically, paper with Hal’s writing all over it. They were torn into pieces, but zhe still recognized Hal’s neat handwriting and occasional hand drawn diagrams. Kimberly had read the man’s reports before and zhe had heard of the mixed reviews concerning them. The number one complaint from the elitists was that Hal’s papers were long winded with so much content that could have been cut out from the paper entirely. Interestingly, the content what could have been cut was what made Hal’s paper more popular among the casual reader. As far as Kimberly could tell, Hal’s scientific essays were always written for the average person. His paper became full of “unnecessary fluff,” because he wrote using simple words and when the use of a jargon could not be avoided, he would always take the time to explain what that terminology meant.

Aside from that, the papers were well organized and easy to read for what it was, even by the elitist’s standards. As one critic said it best, Hal wrote in a way that no reader would ever be left behind. Understandable when taking Hal’s upbringing into consideration and a thought that Kimberly shared wholeheartedly: everyone, regardless of their background or age, should have a chance at education. It was comforting to see that this had not changed.

“Kimberly.” The voice that called for zher attention was too flat to be Haziq’s, but when zhe did look away from the papers, he was the only one in the room. He smiled and redirected Kimberly to another pile of garbage bags, “I’d like you to take these out.”

Kimberly picked up the trash bags that Haziq wanted thrown away, but couldn’t wipe away the uncomfortable feeling that zhe just had. Zhe was too focused on the handwriting rather than the actual words to notice anything. Did zhe see something zhe wasn’t supposed to?

While Kain, technically speaking, knew how to move silently, he did not. He rarely did, even on missions. His job was to draw attention, to present the enemy with a threat. A mountain of a man like him was very good at that. You took one look into a room with Kin in it, and he would the the most obvius target. If nothing else becouse others could likely hide from sight by standing behind him. So it was no wonder that when the man moved towards the briefing room, obscenely large sword resting against his shoulder with ease, that peoples heads turned. Cains cigarette, ever burning yet for some reason never giving him the black tarred lounge of other chainsmokers, hang limply between his lis lips, its ember glowing cherry red. His eyes were set on the door the the council room.

Once there, he noticed Hal first. He didn't trust Henry. If you were to ask him why, he would not be able to answer. IT was innate, like two opposites in a way. Hal was noticeably intelligent, keen eyed and yet he slummy and foul of hygiene. Like a stereotypical intellectual who delved to deep into his papers and forgot the outside world as a result. The kind of people Kain, having grown up on the street where dirt and bad hygiene was a luxury ill afforded a orphan. To him, to this day, showers were a sanctuary and cleanliness a virtue. He was the opposite if Hal if as Kain gave the impression of a giant, slow and big. But unlike Hal, he was someone who lives a very spartan existence, with a very cleaned up and disciplined presentation. And as such, Hals very existence was a blemish on a otherwise allright organization. It didn't help that Kain didn't trust anyone further then a man considerable smaller then him, could toss said person. He had stopped saying he didn't trust a man further then he could toss them. As it turns out Kain can toss anyone pretty damn far.

The others were not quite as offensive to his senses. The one who offered to cook Henry food was of course, ok in Kains book. This was quite typical of him however, as Kain would befriend anyone who could feed him quality food. And Matty was one of the best chefs he met so far. His attention was soon preoccupied by the briefing however, and he spared the others a few brief glances. They were all FIRST CLASS, meaning that this was serious. He briefly wondered exactly what would qualify such a sudden and immidete call of action. As he pondered this however, the briefing began.

SeeR Incursions. He had fought on the front lines before SOLDIER picked him up. He knew of the enemy in intimate detail. There was certeinly no love lost there. He really wish they had relocated themselves somewhere warmer and less harsh then the Tundra though. Kain was no fan of snow. No fan at all. And then they were going into territory without any clue as to enemy numbers, existence of possible Pro-SeeR insurgents ontop of that? He scowled, and the scowl grew deeper as the briefing continued. They had a traitor. A deserter. The scowl turned into snarl.

”God-fucking-dammit” He muttered under his breath. Only for their to be a argument breaking out between their commanders and the Commander in Chief, President Rayne himself. He had not caught the start of it, but as he listened it was clear that Rayne was all about the scorch earth tactic. Kill all SeeR. No leniency. Not even in the face of valuable objectives and information? Was the President that drunk with bloodlust? As the president nailed them all with a stare that might as well have been looking down the iron sight of a heavy machine gun, Kain felt a sudden lack of loyalty towards the asshole in the suit. Fucking politicians.

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As they left. Anger boiled within Kain. Not towards SeeR; but the president and his ignorance. He knew this rage for what is was: reckless and a invite to bad, bad things. He somehow imagined tossing the President trough a table like he had his commanding officer back on the frontlines, would end a lot worse then military prison. So he bit back on the simmering, burning fire within and went to pack his things. He didn't own a whole lot, his room was just a pair of walls, a bunch of free weights, a bed and a television set. He packed down the extra rations he had been hoarding for a rainy day as well as a lighter that had never seen use. Grabbing his combat gear, he readied himself mentally for what was to come.

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Kain realized he was one of the last to arrive. He took solace in the fact he could care less about this. Punctuality was never his strong suit, and even then he was well within the arrival schadule so no harm done. Instead he slid up as stealthily as a 6'4, mountain of a man, could. He quietly observed the others before he let himself be known formally, by speaking in his deep, rumbling voice.

”I really wish they would have waited until after breakfast” He grumbled. ”And if you give me a nickname, I give you a caved in skull... Funny guy.” He shot at Hal before he spoke to any affect about Kains size, apparent eating habits or another perimiters that would let the ”hobo-in-SOLDIER-disguise” identify and classify Kain as something appropriately funny.

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Did Kain just threaten him? As in, was “And if you give me a nickname, I give you a caved in skull” an actual, serious, threat or was the titan joking and forgot to that he had facial muscles? So hard to tell with these military types. If it were the latter, however, he’d need to change his exercise menu: less push-ups and more smiling. The rest of Kain’s muscle-bound body had enough muscle mass as it is; they don’t need any more attention.

“Well it was going to be Fluffaluffagus, but now I’m starting to think I should’ve chosen Grinch. Seriously, did no one teach you manners? Is that how you talk to everyone? If someone brought you an extra glass of water that you didn’t ask for do you say ‘no thank you’ by saying ‘You bleeping bleep-bleep! I gonna pull out your spine for that! Grrr!’” Hal demonstrated how pathetic the basic bodybuilding poses looked on a man who just barely had enough muscle on him to qualify as an active SOLDIER. “Congratulations! You’ve successfully committed verbal assault! Tsk, tsk, soldier, tsk, tsk. You’ll only make more enemies with that kind of language.”

Rubbing his chin with the tips of his fingers like a villain from the old movies, Hal studied the mountain of flesh called Kain, and based on the bountiful wisdom he clearly possessed, decided to do exactly what Kain asked him —although not in the most polite fashion— not to do. “You know what? I would have called you by any name you wanted me to if you just asked nicely, but since you decided that threatening to crush my skull was the better choice, I’m going to call you Honeybun. Yeah. That’s right, Honeybun. And it’ll stay that way until you learn how to ask things from others politely, young man. In fact, every time you fail to do so, the nickname will become increasingly embarrassing and/or more suggestive to the point that rumors will start to spread about how... ‘close’ we’ve become.”

Hal placed his hands on his hips and let his chest puff out in petty triumph. An impish grin spread across his face, “I don’t have a single shred of dignity or pride left in me. I don’t even have to worry about how good or bad my reputation is, because, quite frankly, it’s a lost cause. But you… you still have all that. Hey, maybe even more! You might have a bright future ahead of you in this career! So what’s it going to be, Honeybun? Learn to ask nicely, or get used to the long list of pet names I’ll be calling you. Oh, and the weird looks people will be giving you every time I say them to you.”