Fiore Alba

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It has been, on the whole, quite possibly the strangest day Fiore has ever had. Not that that says much--at sixteen, Fiore hasn't seen much. And it's only the morning.

Life in the village is--was, she reminds herself, for today she'll be saying goodbye to her home of 15 years--a quiet affair. Yes, it is filled to the brim with scientists and researchers, but for the most part, they laid low. They had to, after what happened when the media got involved, when the government caught wind of the research. When the public's interest turned to disgust. Now, the SKINTIGHT2 labs are nothing but a cluster of tents surrounding the large box of a building that the more sensitive tech resides in. Fiore would know; she's visited them every day for the past 15 years, every since her father stumbled upon the compound and she was practically raised by scientists, in lieu of a mother.

Fiore pauses, her hands passing over the contents of her clothing drawer. She's sorting her belongings into piles now, one for taking and one for leaving behind. In case she comes back--in case somebody wants them.

The shirt is red and black, well-worn and with many loose threads. It's one of her favorites. It belonged to mother, once upon a time, and it remains perpetually oversized, but Fiore loves it just the same. The scent of her mother has long since left, replaced with the hospital smell of sterilizers, but Fiore likes to imagine her mother's smell is tucked away somewhere. Like if she tried hard enough, she could pretend mother was standing over her like she would've done. At least Fiore thinks she would.

But now is not the time to daydream. Now is the time to prepare herself. Fiore is determined to stand on her own two feet, to not worry father, to prove to the world she's not a child. Even if she may be as short as one.

The standard-size military suitcase is almost full by now. Fiore casts one last look around her small room, taking in her bed, the patterned curtains, the bedside lamp. That's right--she should pack an alarm clock. The trinkets on the top of her dresser are useless, expect for the special contacts case--but Fiore's already packed that, in a separate box, with utmost care. The rest of this is just junk, like shiny rocks or friendship bracelets made of colorful wire and screws. Trixie was kind to give her the extras. Should she take one, maybe another for Audra...?

No. Those are things of the past, things of before the war. Fiore shivers. That word will never end to unnerve her. She hasn't seen such bloodshed on her own lifetime, but she has seen the pictures, and they are terrifying. Is it only because her work relies on knowing the specifics of an injury does she continue to study such gory pictures. The nightmares have not yet ended, but Fiore can easily sacrifice an hour or two of sleep for information that could potentially save lives, and that is what matters. She has embraced her talents, and she will use them for good. That is the right thing to do.

Audra is waiting outside. She is done here, as is Fiore. The flight is at 6 o'clock precisely. She should go downstairs.

Fiore takes a deep breath, zips up her suitcase, and makes her way down the stairs. Everything is different about today--she wakes up early, before the sun peeks up from behind the wall of pine trees, and instead of going straight to the labs to read and research, she packs bags. It is unsettling and it fills her with both expectation and trepidation. Fiore does not know of the outside world, and as such, it is an unknown terror.

Her medical bag is sitting on her desk--the head scientist was nice enough to allow Fiore access to one of the computer-research stations, and she's been experimenting with some newly developed tools lately. She must remember to pick it up before takeoff.

Breakfast is on the table, abandoned and forgotten. Fiore was too nervous to eat. Even when living with hybrid robot-human killing machines, she has never been this scared. She has absolutely no idea what lies ahead.

Father strides up to her, a worried expression on his face. The gauntness of his cheekbones, the hollowness of his eyes--everything about him makes Fiore ache. She wants to stay. She wants to try and fix him, to find a cure for grief, but this new operation is more important. But what could be more important than one's flesh and blood? This world is confusing and frightening, and Fiore is made of glass.

She sighs, meeting Father's eyes. She will miss him--she will miss everything, from the cabin-in-the-woods houses to the shiny-sleek lab coats hanging on their pegs. This is her home, as strange as it might be, and Fiore tries to take as many memories with her as she can. Of the time Audra brought her up to the top of the tallest tree, then immediately fell and broke her arm as Fiore watched and cried. Of spying on training sessions, jealous of Trey for pulling his weight and jealous of Audra for holding her own while she remained weak and sickly.

Father speaks.

"Hurry, Fiore. The medics have loaded your lab supplies on the plane already; your friends are ready to board when you are." He pauses. "Come home safely, my little angel."

Fiore blinks away tears, burying her face in his chest. His arms hold her tight. "Yes, father. I'll do my best."

"I know you will. I'm proud of you," he says, and Fiore tries to imprint this moment in her memory most of all. If she never sees him again, she wants to remember this for the days ahead. Her friends may stay beside her, and she's glad they do, but her heart will always stay with father. He is her family. She's going to make him proud, she's going to come home, she's going to make him happy...

She takes a deep breath, pulling away. The plane is waiting. The war has begun. This is it.

"Goodbye, father."

"Goodbye, Fiore."

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Shifting her feet slightly Trixie tried not to look at the maintenance Chief's face as she stood solemnly in front of him. "Look, how was I to know they’d switched the cargo at the last minute? The manifest said it was sanitary soap for the med block," she said, trying to explain the situation as best she could, but knowing there was no excusing her actions.

Letting out a deep exasperated sigh, the Chief ran his hand down his face, rubbing the skin from forehead to chin before looking over at the wayward young woman. "Trixie," he began, the leaden weight of each syllable laying heavily on his tongue, "You have to stop messing around like this. I won't be around to cover for you when things go wrong, and with your new assignment it won't just be soap and suds you'll be handling, but explosives and live ammunition."

Trixie ground her toe into the floor plating as she half-listened to a variation on the same lecture she'd been receiving for years. Suddenly something jumped out at her, something different. "New assignment..? You mean they..? You mean I'm..?" she blurted out, leaping forwards and clutching at the edge of the Chief's desk as she gazed joyfully at his bright blue face.

She hadn't meant to make it turn that colour. The smoke bomb should've been in with a load of soap, and the suds wouldn't have done anything worse than clean up some of the stains on his well-worn, 'lucky' jumpsuit. Unfortunately at the last minute someone decided to switch the consignment of soap for some chemical compounds which, when exposed to human skin and the homemade smoke bomb Trixie had spent hours carefully crafting, stain said skin a bright and vibrant shade of blue. The medics had immediately gone to town on the Chief, prodding and poking him with tests and analyses, and had finally given him a clean bill of health, telling him the colour should fade naturally over the next few days.

"I mean, the guys over at the base are obviously even more desperate for volunteers than they're letting on," as he spoke the Chief shuffled papers on his desk, the same dark expression on his face. Looking up at his prized pupil the craggy old features softened, bursting into a proud smile as he looked over at the young woman who started out as a vent rat but had grown into... well, to be honest a bigger vent rat, but at least one who could strip out the ventilation system and rebuild it by hand in under an hour. "I'm finally getting rid of you."

Lifting himself up out of his chair the Chief stepped around the desk and held out his hand to congratulate the most naturally talented technician he'd ever met. "You're to report to the loading dock at 08:00 tomorrow morning for shipment to the base. Best of luck to you, Kid."

With a squeal of delight Trixie bounced forward, flinging her arms around the old man as she hugged him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She cried out in a high pitched voice which made her excitement abundantly clear.

Pulling away again Trixie quickly darted for the door. She had so much to do, so many things to pack, so many plans to make, and with joyful glee the young technician hopped down the corridor towards her bunk to prepare for her new life. Back in the office the Chief stepped up to the door, watching the vibrant ray of sunshine spin off out of his life as a single tear rolled down his bright blue cheek.

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Victor Asimov

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Location: At the Airstrip with his men >>> waiting on the recruits

It was morning. The smell of diesel fuel and rubber graced those near the concrete landing strip. Black streaks littered the runway from the weekly coming and goings of supply planes. A few large wood and metal hangars dotted the sidelines. Their huge doors remained closed hiding whatever may lay inside. On the outskirts of the airfield a small field of grass bled away to evergreen forest with a single paved road disappearing toward a large square structure.

A large Grey VTOL with the name Pegasus painted on the side, sat motionless near a fuel truck. A few workers wearing yellow reflective vests and orange hardhats moved between the truck and the VTOL. The cargo transport was an older model. Four giant propellers at the end of the wings could pitch up and down. Very good at maneuvering in tight quarters, had a decent top speed in higher altitudes, and could carry enough weight and had enough room for their needs. But, it was prone to mechanical issues and mid-flight system failures.

Outside toward the back of the giant VTOL stood six individuals. These six all wore the same clean dark green uniform. The uniform itself was neat but had several missing patches. The patches that were left where their names stitched above the right breast pocket and another tag above their left breast pocket that read, ‘SOAS.’ If one were to ask what the abbreviation meant, they would receive a simple answer. Special Operations Applied Sciences . The ranks they wore were mostly symbolic, the SOAS tag alone meant they had top secret clearance and mostly kept to themselves.

Out of the six one stood out as their leader. A tall strong man with shaved black hair and a near permanent scowl. Pinned to his right breast read the name ‘Asimov.’ A metal band jutted slightly out from his right temple and curved its way across his right eyebrow. A similarity all the soldiers shared. This piece of tech was implanted just the other day. Their skin still a bit red around the edges.

This tech wasn’t connected to any system within them and didn’t augment them in any way. But it did allow them to communicate and display the information given to them by their designated Virtual Intelligence or V.I. a ‘gift’ from the scientists. However, the soldiers had their suspicions that the V.I.’s were really just there to spy on them for the scientists and keep an eye on the recruits.

The soldiers were being quiet, spending their time watching the flight crews go through their final pre-flight checks. A darker skinned soldier with some Samoan ancestry spoke up first. The name ‘Saga’ pinned to his wide chest. He didn’t speak to anyone in particular while he slowly turned to look toward the square complex in the distance.

“So, you guys think these kids are ganna be worth it?”

The large man’s question was met with silence. But eventually someone decided to chime in. a short red head with a bit of Irish descent. Her hair was wrapped up in a neat bun with freckles sprinkled across her face. The name ‘Kerr’ sewn on her blouse.

“Yeah, cute kids that are a bit rough around the edges. All they need is for a bunch of guys like us to light a fire under their arse to get them going. They’ll be killing machines in no time.”

The rest of them got a good laugh in before they became silent again. They all found themselves standing in a line and looking off in the direction these recruits were supposed to arrive from. For now, they weren’t behind schedule just yet. The fun for them would begin when they got on base. Until then, they would remain silent casually going over the files of the recruits that are meant for their squads and getting used to their new assistants.

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Kiki was bored with all, the self imposed isolation of her searches; she thought self imposed because short of confining her in an energized faraday cage. The drab little virtual world of the village but she loved how all her mother’s friends her self appointed family had gathered around her and expressed how happy and sad they were to see her go.



She thinks as she now sits atop two large canvas gym bags, one containing her private undergarments; handmade by her mom and her two assistants. It was strange to think how the most private garments she owned had by and large been made using a 3D factory. You see her mom was a Cyber Psychologist who specialty was the development of AI’s; some thought wrongly that Kiki’s ability was why when her own mom abandoned her Doctor Amelia Moondance adopted her; no Kiki was daughter of the Pagan woman’s spirit.

The other bag held her necessary items in case there was a supply issue and a pair of knee high pink silk pajamas decorated in 108 different fairy dragons which Kiki had used a spider silk loom normally used to make cloth combat armor and web gear. She loved them and prayed the new handlers weren’t allowed to take them as it would be difficult to replace them and she had molded them so that the thread patterns gave were they should and tensioned when they could; the top was actually a pull over made to look like a short silk kimono and the whole outfit shed water quickly (84% in 5 seconds) and dried in 9 seconds even after total immersion. She usually told anyone who saw them she liked them for all the cute dragons.

Then a song intruded her reverie as she waited to board lost in the winds of memory; it was what she called a sport signal, one that mysteriously gained strength and demanded her attention.

It was a Lovely song called Bloodlip and it was so good Kiki began dancing with her eyes closed to the tune which only she heard.

A gentle but brief hand to her shoulder snapped Kiki out of her dance, it was mom biting her lower lip arked nearby was a lab car with Toshi who Kiki knew loved to be called senpai by her and beside him was Dave her mom’s other assistant both men her ersatz uncles.

You’re late Mom says Kiki as she embraced her. I was hoping for a limo

Her mom smiles and grabs the two meager bags looking at her daughter and asking

How can this be all you’re taking?

Mom I’m going to be military trained so the first thing they’ll do is dress us all alike, who knows they might shave our heads.

Under that consideration I have packed 12 different pair of underwear, my pink PJs, shower sandals, tampbft…. answered Kiki till her mom pressed her finger to her lips for silence.

I forgot my daughter is a practical witch then in a well executed display of prestidigitation her mom produces a small black box motioning they climb on the glorified electric golf cart’s rear seat.

As they head to the waiting aircraft Kiki opens the box and finds and exquisite handmade Pentacle of silver wire sitting at the center of a fine but strong spider’s web of silver wire. The size of a half dollar it is provided with a squires chain 20 inch necklace her mom helps put it on her.

No one says a word after that and even when they drop her off at the edge of the flight apron there is only silence as she kisses them all on the cheek and grabs her bags turns and bounces towards the waiting craft enjoying a song Toshi gave her at the party

Fiore Alba

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Goodbyes over, Fiore walks out the door--Audra, her constant companion, her best friend, greets her once she steps outside. Fiore smiles the best she can, shouldering her responsibilities with a determination not often seen in fifteen year old girls. It's a little overwhelming, the leaving and the packing and everything in between, and Fiore has half a mind to fall apart again, but she can't, so she doesn't. Audra does not care, after all, so she should do the same and keep her composure. There is a time and place for emotions, and it has passed.

"No. I'll walk," Fiore says, pointing to her rolling suitcase. "It will be easier to pull this than for you to carry both." That's not exactly true--Audra possesses strength far beyond anyone would guess, but Fiore is going to do her part. They will walk side by side, like partners and soldiers. She needs to pull her weight, this time around.

No running away, she thinks, putting one foot in front of the other but letting her mind run free. The Airstrip is steadily and quickly approaching--the compound as a whole is not very large--so Fiore has only a moment to wait, wish, and worry. No longer is she waiting for opportunities to present themselves, ways for her to save lives. Now, she hopes she will be enough--and worries, for what if she isn't? It's almost a certainty, if it weren't for Audra's help and the rest of the team. Together, they can change the world! A naïve belief, she knows, but now it is almost obtainable, even easy. This is what they have worked towards for years--their entire life, even--and now they are being rewarded.

War is a strange reward, yes, but for them, it is exactly what they want. Fiore can help so many more this way.

The Airstrip, with its planes and taxis and personnel, comes into view. Fiore allows herself one deep breath, one second of wait-wish-worry, and then forges on ahead. Kiki is waiting, already boarding the ship that will take Fiore away from the Village and into the war. She glances at Audra, who hardly carries warm memories of her time here at all, and at Kiki, who craves adventures, and feels very much like the odd one out. The only one who wants, in part, to stay.

"Are you ready?"

Such a strange question! Fiore has been ready her entire life, and yet now she feels supremely lacking. But there is nothing left to prepare for. Everything is done and finished, from her time here to the research she's done. She can't stall any longer.

Fiore gulps and starts up the ramp to the Pegasus. To war. To a new life and home. To chase her dreams, to change the world. Away from Father, yes, but at least Audra follows.

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Making her way across the tarmac Trixie struggled a little under the weight of her luggage. She knew she had to only bring essential items with her, and a lot of her gear was still packed away in a mostly neat pile back in the maintenance area crawlspace she'd been using as her personal workshop for the last few years, but some things were just too important to leave behind.

Crouched over with a rucksack twice her size strapped to her back, several bladders filled with gas floating above her to lessen the weight enough for her to carry the thing, the tech girl staggered and teetered her way between the planes. The one she was lo0oking for had to be around here somewhere, but with all the VTOLs used by The Village to ferry supplies and personnel around the place the young woman was finding it difficult to locate the right one.

Finally as she stepped around a fuel tanker in the process of refilling an outgoing transport Trixie saw a group piling gear into the back of a plane just ahead of her. Making her way towards them as quickly as she could the girl stopped in front of the uniformed man who seemed to be running things. "Recruit Beatrix Tanner, reporting for duty Sir!" She proclaimed proudly, firing off what she thought was a snappy salute to the official looking man.

Turning towards her warily for a moment, the soldier looked Trixie up and down with am unimpressed air. Not that she noticed, her heart was still racing with excitement and she was practically bouncing with glee at the opportunity to get out there and explore the world. "That's good for you, Hun'," the guy finally responded, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder towards the Pegasus, "I'm just here to do pre-flight on the bird. Best make yourself at home before they take off without ya'."

With her head already buzzing with military jingo and visions of medals Trixie wasn't really paying attention to what the soldier was actually saying, her internal monologue filling in the blanks with impressive terms like 'LZ', 'ETD', 'FoF' and 'KP duty'. What did manage to filter through her wildly fantasising mind was that the man had given his permission for her to board the plane, and snapping off another 'smart' salute she smiled happily back at him. "Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir. A pleasure to be serving with you, Sir."

Staggering her way up the ramp Trixie let her pack fall to the deck as she quickly fell into one of the unoccupied seat, several small items slipping free of the straining bag and scattering across the floor unheeded by the girl as she smiled brightly and glanced around the cabin at her fellow passengers. A couple of the items quickly sprouted legs and began to trundle their way back towards the backpack, clawing their way up the side of it before coming to rest on top, bright optics glancing around the packed compartment just as curiously as their creator.

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Victor Asimov

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Location: waiting on the recruits >>> At Camp Equinox airstrip

It wasn't long before some of the facility's personnel began making their way onto the VTOL. They didn't seem to say much just put their bags in the middle of the craft with the rest of the sophisticated gear and found a seat. Some talked amongst themselves while others did try to ask him and his leadership cadre questions. Receiving only silence and stern stares in return.

Once all the necessary personnel and equipment was on board the flight crew began their pre-flight inspection. The command cadre found their seats toward the front of the aircraft and stood at attention in front of their seats. Victor stepped up his hands folded neatly behind his back while his eyes drifted over the children and a few of the other facility personnel that would be joining them.

“Your attention please!” waiting for a moment for the children to settle down, “I would like to formally inform you of your acceptance into Special Operations for Applied Sciences, Task Force Golem.” He paused for a moment as he began to slowly pace back and forth in the front of the craft. “My name is Victor Asimov, you will address me as Asimov or Colonel I will be your commanding officer. You will address my command cadre as their last name or Lieutenant.” A short pause, “do you understand!”

He took the time to introduce each of the other officers who in turn stepped forward and then back to their original position. “We will be leaving shortly for Camp Equinox. Like you, this camp is a top secret facility. You are not to disclose your information to the other soldiers at this camp unless ordered too.” The tall man reached up and grabbed a handle as the four massive engines started spinning up. This prompted the man to put some ear muffs on with a mic and instructed the others to do the same.

Resuming with his speech while the VTOL shuttered and groaned with the added weight on takeoff. “The purpose of this move is to give you specialized military training. we will train you in how to hold and conduct yourself in a military manner. We will push you to your limits, we will break you down, and we will see how far you can go before we build you all back up into a respectable fighting force.” Asimov waited for the aircraft to level out before returning to his seat. “My self and the other instructors are not your friends, we are not your scientists. But we will keep you alive, we will make you stronger, we will make you better.” Sitting down and strapping himself in the man had one final comment, “follow your orders and you’ll be fine. The only thing we ask of you, is that you don’t quite.”

/////>>>>--- A few hours later ---<<<<\\\\\

The instructors had sat there quietly observing the kids during the flight. Occasionally whispering something or making some kind of gesture towards the other instructors. This was until the radio crackled to life with the voice of the pilots, “making our final approach now.” With that Que Victor stood and resumed his earlier position while holding onto another pipe above him. “When the cargo bay door opens you are to grab your gear and follow the flashing white lights to the barracks. There are multiple buildings. Those that are housed in barracks Alpha with me are as follows.” A small drop down visor appeared in blue over his left eye. “Trey Anders, Kiki Moondance, Beatrix Tanner, Fiore Alba, and Audra Hannon.” The man moved to the back of the VTOL when it landed and the other instructors called out names.

The Cargo bay door slowly lowered as the rotors slowed to a stop. “Everybody up!” Asimov motioned for them to stand, “now get your shit and get out! Move! Move! Move!” he was yelling at them. The cargo bay door opened up to cool afternoon air on a cloudy day. Thick pine forest expanded out for miles until climbing the steep slopes of tall snow caped mountains. The airstrip was clean but otherwise deserted. Stark concrete and metal structures cropped up to the north of the run way. Several jets and other military aircraft set quietly inside hangers and earthen bunkers on the opposite side of the runway. Flashing white lights guided the Birthed towards their new homes and what looked to be training grounds.

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Slapping the release on her harness Trixie leapt up onto her feet calling out "Sir Yessir!" in a bright, cheery tone before turning to her pack. Quickly pulling the oversized rucksack onto her back the technician began marching down the ramp onto the tarmac, seemingly oblivious to the sheer amount of things falling around her as she bounced from foot to foot. In her wake some items began to follow on their own legs, lifting and pushing the rest along to follow her as Trixie followed the lights across the runway towards the nearby cluster of buildings.

Peering around her the tech took in her surroundings, examining every detail she could as she tutted to herself. "Whoever's in charge of the air conditioning around here has no idea about the correct placement of ducts and vents," she murmured under her breath, eyes tracing the walls from one armoured shutter to the next as she mapped out the paths as if she could see through the walls.

A moment later she turned her attention down to her ankle, where one of the small droids was pulling incessently on her cuff. The small automaton was urgently gesturing in a different direction, and it took a minute for Trixie to realise she'd wandered off of the assigned path. Quickly she broke her stride to scurry back into line with her fellow cadets, before once more bouncing along in what she thought was a properly military fashion. "Thanks sparky," she 'whispered' down at her little friend, "That coulda been embarrassing."

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Kiki watched the entire proceedings with concealed amusement as she surrendered her body to an Automaton state designed to keep her reactions middle of the road. Move as commanded but not too quickly, respond as proscribed by those in command, remember in this game the object is the programing of she the new asset; difficult to mind hack someone who existed on two planes of existence simultaneously.

All around her Kiki sensed the buzz of an electronics 10 Xs the levels she was used to back home and her new home was Alpha Barracks. Kiki’s body followed orders as they were barked her. Her expression placid and unaffected by outside events all sounds and visual events streamed to her reflecting pool where she kept memories not 12 hours old or archived for potential necessity; people had a habit on testing your focus asking your opinion or memory of their recent statements.

She quickly tagged the Barracks net, ID’d the security points, the firewalls, and the local Citadel. She was tempted while her body was engaged in the dogma and traditions of military training as old as Sun Tzu and the courtesans to probe the Net’s weaknesses, ghost the points where she could conceal herself as she watched and learned its patterns and masters.

The colony of nanites in her bloodstream and tissues even now were making small adjustments to her receptors and her energy frequencies to improve her efficiency. Open frequency activity was still very shielded but easy for Kiki’s bioweb to pick up and translate. Kiki was privy to the menu of the next meal, the little care packages they were soon to collect to replace their Civilian clothing and make them all as clone like as possible; another tool of making civilians into a unit perfected by the Changs, Romans, and other successful militaries through history.