---

[ October 23, 2130 - 7:34 PM ]

The evening air grew cool and crisp as the city was blanketed in twilight. Sierra sat perched atop a high-rise in the heart of Midtown, a favored spot of hers for clearing her mind. She reached into her hoodie and removed her E-Vap from the secret pocket in her sports bra then took a draw. Her phone began to vibrate as she exhaled a large cloud of pink smoke into the air. She apparently had forgotten that her current cyl had colored smoke because she grinned slightly at the pleasant surprise. She reached for her phone and played a silent inward game of 'guess who's calling' while she took it out of her pocket. The list of people who actually called her was quite short, so the odds of a correct guess were in her favor. When she brought the screen into view, she chuckled a little. It was Manny making a video call over FriendBridge.

Of course…

She accepted the call and grinned slyly at the camera.

"Why you looking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're up to something…"

"No idea what you're talking about..."

"Right...and I hear no street noise and see a backdrop of nothing but sky…where are you?"

Sierra looked off camera and grinned again. She switched to her rear-facing camera to give Manny a taste of what she was seeing. The ferries could be seen gliding serenely across the river in the distance and the city lights had begun to illuminate the streets.

"Just enjoying the view. I love being this high up."

"So, I'm guessing you flew up there? Which means MAD probably has they're eye on you right now." Manny's tone turned a bit too 'big brother' for Sierra's liking. She reverted back to the face camera and rolled her eyes.

"The drones don't even come this high up, Manny...you know that. Plus, I'm not even doing anything wrong." She took a drag from her cyl and blew a puff of pink smoke toward the camera.

"Smoking is bad for you."

Sierra gave a long annoyed sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you that there's no nicotine or anything in these? It's just freaking vapor." She inhaled another puff and shook her head slightly. "Did you just call to lecture me or...?"

"I called to let you know that a few of us are meeting up tonight. You down?"

She had a feeling that she knew what this 'meeting up' would entail, but she usually obliged Manny anyway...simply because it was Manny.

"Sure...why not? Got nothing better to do."

"Awesome...warehouse district in an hour...and take the stairs, will you?"

Sierra walked to the edge of the roof and turned her back to the open air. "Wait what was that last thing? I didn't hear you." As she mocked her friend, she leaned backward over the edge preparing to drop into a freefall. Before Manny could respond in protest, Sierra waved at the camera, promptly ended the call, and pocketed her phone before plummeting full speed toward the street below. After dropping head-first for several stories, she flipped and turned her feet toward the ground. She then slowed her decent using her jet propulsion and landed gently on the currently deserted street. She quickly darted into a dark alley and instinctively checked the air around her for MAD drones. Once she was confident the coast was clear, she tucked away her E-Vap, rested her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie, and started on the stroll to the warehouse district.

---

Five years, it had been quite a while. A realization which washed over the young Variant, or rather, self-proclaimed ‘Monster’, as those large, obsidian eyes lingered on a pair of headphones, held within pale hands. Clenching his teeth, Connor exhaled a small sigh and noted how warm air trickled past his ghostly porcelain skin. Thin, black claws traced a path across a plastic surface, the headphone’s blue paint somewhat dulled throughout many years of use. The boy had never forgotten, but some days managed to pass, from dawn til’ dusk without conjuring thoughts of a past now lost. What could one say in reference to a close friend who was ever-so-suddenly erased? Presumed dead, they said. Connor had no recollection of the, by now, young man’s family, or where they were. Memories had slowly faded, and with little to recall, he was at quite a disadvantage.”I hope you’re okay, dude..,” words trickled past the boy’s mind, his small hands gently grasping a pair of old, worn headphones given to him by an old, lost friend.

Leaning back in his seat, Connor’s attention rose towards a teacher who had been explaining the use of iPads, which in itself was a rather ironic disposition, in being presented to a room full of technologically obsessed teenagers. “Alright, take good care of these,” came a tired voice from the opposite end of their classroom. Teaching was likely a hectic, thankless, and annoying job, which reflected itself on Mrs. Kyle’s face. Dealing with sixteen-year-olds did not sound like an appealing prospect for anyone, and even Connor was prepared to agree with that.

As each desk was handed a tablet, the porcelain-skinned Variant put aside his headphones, and viewed its sleek surface with a tilt of his head. How many times was he going to face this issue? Again, the teenager sighed, but this time, he spoke up. ”Mrs. Kyle,” came a ghostly voice, unique and, in regards to general opinions, disturbing.

“Yes, Connor?” An answer traced its way back to the young ‘Monster’, confirming their exchange.

”I can’t use this,” the Variant explained, his thin brow somewhat raised. Placing a sleek, raven-colored claw on the surface of his brand new iPad, Connor dragged the inhuman digit across a still shiny, untouched surface. As one might have expected, the device scarcely reacted, and Connor’s lack of finger pads was a clear culprit in the endeavor. The display warranted laughter from every direction, which didn’t affect Connor in the slighest, but rather, his attention remained on their teacher who now displayed a less than comfortable expression.

“Oh..,” she cleared her throat. “I’ll see if we can get you a laptop instead..,” the woman tried. Every student had their needs, and some of them were quite special. In Connor’s case, his body was the root cause of many complications. He could not participate in physical education outside on sunny days, either. However, little did they know that exercise held no meaning for the boy. He could neither build fat, nor muscle, and remaining stuck in time was patiently waiting for its grand reveal. The teenaged figure staring back at Connor through the surface of a polished mirror would linger, for an eternity.

”Sorry for being a nuisance, Mrs. Kyle.” The apology was sincere, but a small chuckle accompanied Connor’s words, as he handed back his gracious gift.

“It is fine,” came a response, albeit somewhat exasperated. Though a somewhat awkward development, class eventually saw itself coming to an end, and Connor was finally released from its clutches. However, it brought a thought to mind, once more. How many Variants attended school? It was rather rare for a powered individual to exhibit physical mutations like Connor himself, which made it impossible to tell. As far as the white-toned ‘Monster’ knew, he was the only specimen. Had he ever met another Variant? It was unclear. None that he could recall. According to N.O.V.A’s database, the entire world exhibited approximately five million Variants, which in the context of billions painted it a miniscule number. Connor could go an entire lifetime, which in his case was a long stretch, without meeting another.

Closing his locker, the ‘Monster’ exhaled another small breath, before slipping his headphones over those pointed ‘elf-like’ ears. He had earned many nicknames throughout the years, all of which he found adequately amusing. Death Boy, Elf Boy, Alien, Ghost, and a personal favorite, Shark Boy. His teeth, pale skin, and black eyes did warrant the title, and it was one he often found himself laughing at.

Striding down a soon thinning corridor of students, Connor’s attention remained on the floor as he walked, the boy’s focus aimed at a string of lyrics dancing their way into his ears. One would accurately draw the conclusion that music moved the boy’s limbs more so than he would admit. Silence was a daunting prospect, and thus, Connor dispelled it with a consistent stream of lyrics and instrumental bliss. Where some claimed that they could not write without listening to the inspiring touch of verbal art, Connor fell under the same concept. He would argue that everything looked grey without music, and that reflected itself upon his drawings.

”Ugh..,” the teen grunted, stepping into an afternoon bombardment of sunlight. Pulling his hood into place, the situation grew somewhat more bearable, and Connor could proceed on a path to his home. He was hungry, and despite this Variant’s scrawny appearance, the boy ate as much as anyone else. In fact, he could very well eat more, if hunger dictated the notion. However, yet again, he was somewhat of a special case. The boy’s powers were relatively known to him, but many of the side-effects withheld themselves, still. However, Connor had not unleashed his powers in a very long time. Destruction was their only purpose, and when they were, ironically, capable of giving life, it was a perverse reflection of what existence truly meant.

At the very least, he would be the star of any given Halloween party. Chuckling at such a ridiculous thought, the ghostly teen entertained his imagined scenario, and continued to pad along a sunlit street, clawed hands gently resting within his shirt pockets. There were times where Connor wanted to throw that hoodie off in a futile attempt to appreciate that massive, celestial body far beyond the sky. An act which had granted humanity life since ages eternal, but for Connor, it was a reminder, not a pursuit.

He was a mockery of life. With powers drawing him Death’s Majesty, life was cruelly twisted in response. Indeed, the boy claimed to ‘own who he was’ which remained a truth. However, as Connor slowly freed his hand from the safety of his shirt pocket, the boy felt a stinging sensation boring itself into his pale flesh, all the while sparing his claws lacking such emotional receptors. Clenching his teeth, Connor soon returned the appendage to the comfort of shade, a sigh managing its way past his lips. ”At least I don’t burn..,” came a quiet whisper.

Following his arrival at home, Connor proceeded along the same routines which had enveloped him for years. Drawing, painting, and finishing his homework, something which would occupy the Variant until evening eventually peered in through an open window. The sun set, and with it, Connor was quick to pull those curtains aside and enjoy the evening glow. He wouldn’t mind some takeout, and with his mother at work.., no one was there to nag him into cooking something ‘healthy’. A nurse to the end.

Clay didn't mind the layout of the house. Sure, it was an abandoned house and the lack of light at night spooked him. Sure, it was almost completely barren except for three chairs, Clay's supplies of varied nature, and a sleeping bag. Sure, it had no running water, forcing Clay to steal bottled water and substitute showering most days with wet wipes and deodorant. Sure, it had no power, meaning Clay had to conserve battery on his phone, charging both it and a backup mobile battery in public locations that allowed it. But it gave him a solitary place to 'live' and some privacy. People tended to avoid the house because they felt it was already occupied by a few people; in reality it was almost always just Clay, unless he was entertaining another Variant guest of some sort. At day the light filtered in through the holes in the roof (which Clay was aware wasn't a good thing but a minor beneficial side effect of gaping holes in the ceiling), and on the occasion it rained, pretty much everything was kept in one of the rooms with an intact ceiling. Supplies were rarely a problem, given the ease with which Clay could steal.

Of course, since Clay found the arrangement so tolerable, he also found no compelling reason to change it. So, after a busy day of reading and wandering the city, Clay was cleaning the hideout for no good reason.

It was almost pointless - he cleaned it nearly daily just to pass time, and you can only clean so much in such an empty place. Yeah, there was nothing gross growing in the house or anything, but that just meant he spent more time sweeping. Sweeping a hideout with holes in the roof that let the leaves and rain in. None of the other Variants that passed through seemed to care about the cleanliness so long as it had supplies, but here Clay was, sweeping while distracting himself mentally by thinking about how stupid he was for doing it.

When Clay's phone vibrated in his pocket, he took another few seconds to contemplate the futility of sweeping before checking it. It was a FriendBridge message from a Variant called Zack. Zack was a low class Agile Variant who mostly helped run supplies between Pariah Underground people.

Zack: I'm out back, let me in

Zack knew Clay well enough that he knew Clay didn't like surprise visitors. The back door wasn't locked, Zack was simply being polite. He also knew Clay might have had a small mute around himself and might not have heard a knock at the door and texted him instead.

Zack entered silently when Clay opened the door, only giving a small wave. Zack stopped by Clay's hideout enough that he had gotten use to Clay's version of 'communication' or lack thereof. Clay waited while Zack grabbed a bottle of water and a candy bar.

"Some of us are meeting in the Warehouse area soon. Real soon, so maybe you should come with," said Zack after he finished the candy.

Clay didn't do anything at first. Then he nodded. He didn't elaborate, but Zack knew better then to push him to speak. Clay only stopped for a second to grab a candy bar, then the two were off.




Zack was nice enough to not speed ahead of Clay, instead walking next to him down River Street to the Warehouse district. Clay kept his gaze down - not just because the crowds here made him uncomfortable, but also because the shop windows made him want to slow down to look. Recently he'd been (unsuccessfully) attempting to cut down on buying shiny trinkets and whatnot, most of which ended up in a backpack he kept in the hideout almost exclusively for such things. It already had enough shiny garbage in it without him trying to add more.

Suddenly Clay realized his mind had wandered enough that Zack had said something and Clay hadn't responded. He looked up, giving a small apologetic smile to Zack.

"I asked, how's life holding up? Still living off of the supermarket harvest?" Zack repeated.

Clay nodded, smirking. He made a rubbing motion with his hand over his stomach; the 'harvest' had been good.

Zack smirked back. "Cool, dude." There was a pause. "You consider, like, rooming with someone else or letting someone else room with you? I mean, they announced more missing Variants. You should play it safe, man."

Clay didn't answer immediately. When he did he did so verbally, mostly because it was faster than trying to explain with only gestures. "I'll consider it. I don't like... being around others often. But you're right." He seemed like he had something else, but didn't continue. He preferred to keep his time talking to a minimum.

Zach nodded. "Cool, man. Well, we're almost to the Warehouse district; we'll see what the meeting's about. Then maybe you can think some more, huh?"

Clay nodded, silent again.

His satchel hit the floor with a thud as the door slammed shut behind him. Felix massaged his temples as his keys fell into the bowl on the sideboard and he kicked off his shoes. It had been one hell of a Monday. He’d had meetings before school, lunchtime duties, meetings after school and then a set of papers to grade before he made it home. As he set his groceries down in the kitchen he couldn’t help his thoughts once again returning to what he’d heard two of his colleagues laughing about as they’d left the staff lounge - Connor Everest’s fingers being unable to use a touch screen. He had been infuriated. How dare they? A carton of oat milk crumpled slightly as it felt his frustration. What if a student had a disability that prevented them using one…? They’d never dare laugh about that. But a Variant… Apparently that was a different matter. If only he could help...

With his tote still half full of groceries he quickly dashed back to the sideboard in the hall to that mystery drawer that everyone seemed to own. The drawer with keys to long lost locks, chargers for devices long since garbage and those odds and ends, dice, playing cards, cocktail sticks, and a pack of styluses from his old iPad. With a smile, he slipped the packet into his satchel to take to work tomorrow. That should solve that problem.

A quick fix of homemade chicken pasta salad and he settled down with a glass of wine with his most recent textbook. Over the last few months, he had slowly amassed a collection that wouldn’t have looked amiss if both a medical and a veterinary student were roommates. He’d found his powers were far more effective when combined with actual medical knowledge of the human (or otherwise) body. An hour later and he’d learnt enough about the liver for a Monday evening, well at least enough to know how to fix it real quick if he needed.

After a quick tidy, the last dish went into the drying rack, he emptied the sink and was suddenly struck by the emptiness of his flat again. He'd been feeling it more and more the past few weeks. He'd filled his time with work, exercise and now moonlighting as a vigilante to completely avoid being left in solitude with only his darkest memories to haunt him... Maybe he should get a roommate? But until he stopped waking in the middle of the night in cold sweats crying out loud that probably wasn't an option...

If he wanted to head out tonight he could still do some rounds of the Shanty. But he’d had no tip-offs from any of his sources. His other option was the local animal shelter where he was practising his non-human healing, but they would still be too busy for him after their open adoption weekend. He needed something to exhaust either his body or mind to at least try and ensure some semblance of a night's sleep.

Ten minutes later he was leaving the apartment. Clad head to toe in black with his disco running playlist pumping in his ears, Felix headed down the road for a run around the block. Sometimes he found someone to help, other times it was just a bit of exercise. Either way, he desperately hoped he'd sleep better tonight without seeing Matt's anguished face on repeat.

The decision to make New Haven my home again is one that has left me deeply divided. As I look back on the time I spent with Delta, I am flooded with the memories of having served side by side with the most courageous men I have ever met. They were stalwart and unflappable, and even as we operated together in the most austere and remote environments across the world, I could hardly count myself worthy to be among them. I was honored to have cheated death with them, and utterly remorseful of those who were not able to avoid that fate. They were my brothers by the blood we shed for each other and by the blood we spilled of our enemies in the name of patriotism. And yet, that ideology which had bound us so tightly together is also what led me away from them. Were we the righteous hammer of justice being wielded against evil to protect the country we loved, or were we a death squad at the whim of men who would serve their own interests first, and give what was left to the defense of freedom? In my final months with the team, I could no longer make the distinction.

I grasped at the opportunity to join the special response and hostage rescue team out of desperation to salvage what might be left of the ideals that had once been my very foundation, and that I have realized are covered in just as much innocent blood as that of the wicked. I have abandoned my brothers, who shared in the atrocities with me but not in the forsaking of them, to return to my sister, who is the only thing I have left to remind me that I must be a better man.

-S.A.


In the blackness of night, high above the Uptown District, an MH-6 Little Bird circled like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. Two sets of legs hung out of the open fuselage on either side with their boots on the landing skids; Alpha Team was in position, geared to the gills for tonight’s operation. In a home down below lived the unfortunate subject of months-worth of intelligence gathering, and it was time for him to answer a few questions.

The known member of Chimera was responsible for directing the sabotage of N.O.V.A. efforts to intervene in criminal Variant activity all over New Haven. In several instances, if those efforts had been successful they would have led to key information concerning some of the high-profile kidnappings that had plagued the city as of late. But with Chimera’s fake intelligence flooding the net and their tampering of information systems used by N.O.V.A., it was one dead end after another.

The FBI had picked up on the trail and followed it back to its source- one of its sources, at least. By continuing to use N.O.V.A. as bait and silently putting the pieces together, the special response team could now swoop in for the kill without either side expecting it. With N.O.V.A.’s intentions seeming to pull deeper and deeper into secrecy, opportunities like this were the only way to ensure that nothing got covered up in the aftermath. In fact, N.O.V.A. would likely take the blame for the whole thing once word of the hit got out.

Sebastian Albright held onto the side of the bird with one hand and his HK416 with the other. He glanced over his shoulder at the pilot, who was waiting for the word from the TOC that is was time to descend. He shook his head and Sebastian returned his gaze to the twinkling lights of New Haven far below. The Variant division headquarters had every available piece of monitoring and surveillance equipment pointed at their target location, ready to give them by-the-second updates on any activity that went on.

“You alright, boss?” Cameron’s voice crackled in his ear over the team frequency. “You look a little nervous.”

The jest in the former SEAL’s voice was apparent, and Sebastian responded by holding up his middle finger. He could hear them laughing over the thrum of the Little Bird’s engine.

“He’s not going to smile tonight,” Michael told the team over the net.

Sebastian shook his head at his fellow Special Forces alumni, but before he could send a reply the helicopter suddenly dipped down and they were on their way to the target.

The huge house came into view in a few minutes. The Little Bird rapidly descended, hovered long enough for Alpha Team to hop off, and then disappeared back into the night. They knelt in a tight formation, back to back, waiting to see if anyone had noticed their arrival. If so, plan ‘B’ was to take the place down with violence of action. Luckily, it appeared as though they could avoid that for the moment; the place was dark and silent.

“TOC, this is Alpha One,” Sebastian said over the headquarters frequency, which the rest of the team could hear as well. “We’re live. What do you got for us?”

A female voice sounded over the net: “Three bodies moving around on the first floor, kid in his room, wife in bed with the HVT. Killing the power in three, two, one. Tick-tock, boys.”

The team stood up, careful not to slip down the slopping roof top.

“NODs on,” Sebastian told his team. “Check your shit. Positive identification before you pull the trigger.”

“Hey, was that Elaine?” Richard asked as they made final preparations to enter the building, referring to their TOC operator. “She’s hot, man.” The prior Army Ranger ensured his weapon was locked and loaded and pulled his night vision down.

“I heard she has a crush on Albright,” Cameron said completing the same actions.

Michael laughed quietly. “He might not smile, but we’ll damn sure get him to blush.”

“Let’s move,” Sebastian said and led the team to the window which they knew entered directly into the target’s bedroom.

The geared up team stacked to the side of the window in single file, Michael in front followed by Richard, then Sebastian, and Cameron watching their rear. Sebastian gave Richard a tap, and he went to the window with his breaching tools. Hoping that any alarms had been disabled along with the power, Richard quietly and methodically broke away the locking mechanism on the window and slid it open. Michael, Sebastian, and Cameron entered the room with Richard closing in the rear.

They were as silent as death itself. In the green tint of their night vision they could see the HVT and his wife in bed. Sebastian took Cameron over to it and they pulled the covers off. They woke with a start but before they could make any meaningful sounds they were wrestled to the ground with duct tape wrapped around their faces and flexi cuffs binding their hands.

Sebastian pulled the man up roughly and looked at him quickly, before handing him off to Richard, who put his pistol to the man’s head and told him not to move. He nodded to Cameron to keep the woman face down on the floor.

“TOC, Alpha One,” Sebastian said quietly and away from the target. “HVT is secured. It’s definitely him. Tell our evac to be ready for us when we come out.”

“You’re going to have company on the stairs. Be careful, Alpha One.”

Sebastian looked at his team, who gave him a thumbs up indicating that they knew what was about to happen. Even then they could hear voices talking in a panic about the power being out. He rallied them at the door, leading the way this time with Richard keeping the HVT in the rear.

“I told you she had a crush on him,” Cameron snuck in over the team net before Sebastian threw open the door and they began to clear their way out of the house.

They had rehearsed this floor plan a million times. Sweep right down the hall, cut left to the stairs, and swing around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees to cross the living room and head out the front door.

An armed hostile met them at the first turn. Sebastian’s HK416 hissed twice rapidly through its suppressor and the man dropped. At the top of the stairs they received fire from the other two guards and took cover against the walls. Michael leaned out with his assault rifle and sent down a well aimed volley that took out one of them, before the other fired back and forced him back into cover. The bullets slammed into the walls, sending pieces of them spraying out in all directions.

“All this cyber-terrorism money, and they have this trash-ass security,” Cameron said. “Cover me.”

Sebastian and Michal took turns firing down at the last hostile as Cameron raced down the stairs to intercept him at close range. They heard the poor bastard's final cries before Cameron sent him to the afterlife.

Sebastian, Michael, and Richard, still holding onto the sniveling HVT, made their way down the stairs, regrouped with Cameron, and were on their way out the door.

“I think he shit himself,” Richard said as they moved along.

“TOC, Alpha One. Let’s get that evac moving.”

“En route,” the TOC operator said earning another snicker from the team.

The black, up-armored SUV speed up to the house. Alpha Team rushed their captive across the yard, threw him in the back, and then jumped in the vehicle to take him back to headquarters.

---

A sloppy, red tongue traced itself past Connor’s face, causing the boy to emit a giggle in response. He gently combed a set of clawed digits through the thick mat of fur which eagerly revelled in attention. ”How about we go out, Cerberus?” The Variant asked, his fingers moving towards those large, pointed ears where tender scratching caused the Wolf Dog to nearly fall over from affectionate bliss. He was quite a large creature, which at times had been displayed in wrestling matches against the scrawny teenager now petting the beast. One was not required to delve deep, before an obvious answer surfaced, which indicated that Cerberus, a fitting name for such a large specimen, easily stood victorious against his petite owner, and best friend. It was a rather common display, where Connor and Cerberus fought like boys so often did, an act found in primitive desires, and yet, filled with laughter, and joy.

”Hah, no, Cerberus! Out! Not tackle!” Connor tried, nearly pushed to the floor by a massive snout pressing itself against his chest. ”Okay, okay!” The Variant smirked, patting his clawed hand against Cerberus’ side, the warmth of bright, grey fur contrasting against Connor’s chalk-white skin. They were quite unique, this duo of oddities. However, it was anything but an uncommon scenario, seeing Cerberus struggle against his harness. Once it was on, business passed as usual, but getting him into it was comparable to slipping a child into clothes. A feat in itself.

”I swear, Cerby..,” Connor breathed, the boy now having fallen to his knees in a desperate attempt to slip that harness onto his massive companion. An onlooker would likely have panicked, their attention on a fearsome canine as he stood above a clearly miniscule individual. ”I will haunt your dreams,” the Variant huffed, his statement perfectly melded into Connor’s ghostly voice. However, the response he was afforded was a large tongue leaving a wet path across his face, yet again. ”Ugh..,” The Variant sighed, scrambling to his feet. ”Do you want a waffle?” Came a question, which prompted the Wolf Dog to turn his head in curiosity. He clearly knew that word. ”Harness..,” Connor raised the green-colored contraption in his right hand, ”waffle,” he finished.
Hearing a bark, the boy groaned slightly. He needed to get Cerberus into that harness, or else the canine wasn’t allowed outside. Indeed, he was a Wolf Dog, and not even ordinary domestic pets were allowed outside without a leash. That went double for something as potentially dangerous as Cerberus. However, it wouldn’t take long to measure Connor’s lacking strength in response to the dog’s. If Cerberus wanted to, he could escape the boy’s grip, with or without a leash.

”Wait up, you nut!” Connor exclaimed, his finger tapping Cerberus on the snout. The dog was an eager kind, if playful. Hearing that sizzling sound of a waffle in the iron was enough to make an already restless beast anxious in anticipation. However, what worked, was finally being able to slip Cerberus’ harness on while the Wolf Dog’s attention remained on the waffle iron. ”There..,” the Variant huffed, ”I need to teach you to get into that thing without bribing you with waffles every time we leave the house..,” he finished, an obsidian gaze lingering on the beast who occasionally alternated his attention between Connor and the heavenly scent of food. It did not take long for whining to trickle through, and the young ‘Monster’ reached for what had been so desperately desired.

”Relax, you big baby,” Connor grinned, ”get your bowl.” It was a statement which caused the Wolf Dog to once more tilt his head, a pair of large, grey eyes staring into the black orbs standing above them. ”Your bowl,” Connor repeated, ”get your bowl, and you get the waffle.”

Turning to his hind paws, Cerberus wasted no time in jumping away, his legs carrying him to Connor’s bedroom which the canine considered his den, and returned with a silicone bowl between his chops. Without a second thought, Cerberus dropped it to the floor, followed by a bark. It took a mere second after Connor lowered that delicious waffle into the Wolf Dog’s bowl before it was devoured without remorse. ”Geez, you act like I don’t feed you..,” the Variant chuckled, combing his fingers through Cerberus’ thick, gray fur. With the moment upon them, finally, Connor attached Cerberus’ leash, a bright green length with several cartoon paw prints across its shape, to the harness with a similar theme. After a small tug, the now happy Wolf Dog followed along as they stepped into the dimming evening light.

Now, Connor could indulge in what the boy had been longing for, and walk his dog, in the process. They often warranted more than a few whispers and heads turning their way, though whether it was the massive canine or his small, Variant companion was hard to say. However, none could deny that together, they made quite a noteworthy couple.

_{Interactions || @Shard - Watching Connor}

---

A phantom lurked above the streets of the warehouse district, just out of view from the ground. Rather, just out of view of the visible spectrum for the moment. His eye was focused on his target since the moment it made its journey to where it resided. He had waited until it...he, left the learning center for the day before following. The Watcher took notice of his withdraw from the safety of his home during the later hours, which allowed him to theorize that the female human was not home.

Before comimg here, he was not The Watcher, rather DJ Pharaoh. A young person not unlike himself had a birthday party. They wanted his appearance at the party to hype things up. They seemed to like dubstep, which was very electronical and fast paced. He learned the event to be a ceremonial festival dedicated to the specific birthdate of one person. There were smiling faces, the giving of gifts, decorative elements, and varying foods. There were many similar, likely familial faces. It seemed...nice.

Did he have a birthday? Was it also in Autumn? Being at such an event felt so foreign to him. Rha could not remember if he did or not; Karen did not tell him. Perhaps he didn't...? Baba would have known, if he was still here, he'd tell Rha...It brought him back to his purpose on the surface now. Back to him.

The boy was down there, walking his canine companion called Cerberus. It wasn't hard to decipher that name, as he'd heard it times before when the creature was rowdy while outside. The smile on the boy face though, Rha knew it from long ago. A memory. A memory that drew positive feeling. Perhaps today was the day to see if the boy could give him some insight.

Waves of electromagnetic energy hit him in a pattern like interval. Morse code. The Pariah were signalling him to return. His face twisted into irritation. He didn't want to leave, but, it seemed important. Thus, he let the illusion fade, focusing more on a cover that led to the sewer system. It was likely the quickest way to get to his destination from here. So, unlatching itself from thr ground under Rha's compulsion, it flew through the air.

The miraculous ufo drew the attention of the few passerby in the area. There was a cautious look in their eyes when they followed it back up to the building he stood on and saw him. The Watcher didn't seem to pay them any mind as he stepped on, and started flying off. As he passed by in the air, Rha looked back down at the kid walking his dog over his shoulder. He'd be back eventually.

For now, he turned his head forward and zoomed off for the underground.

- Midtown
- October, 23rd, 2130, 8:00 PM

A large shadowy shape lumbered through the streets, smashing through anything and everything in its way. People running and screaming. The creature loved those feelings... It needed more. Charging through the town, scaring more people and destroying more property, it hungered for fear. It charged towards the nearest building and smashed through it, people running and calling for help, and vehicles scrambling to get out of its way. It roared and made yet another mindless charge through another building. Strange vehicles with flashing lights arrived and armed men climbed out, pointing weapons at the beast. It viewed short thoughts from each of them, most seemed scared, but others seemed familiar to this event. Regardless, they all seemed scared. The beast made a resemblance of a smile at the smell of their fear. It trampled a few cars and with a swipe of its tail, it brushed aside one of the vehicles. The men started shooting at the beast, but it seemed ineffective. It trampled the remaining vehicles, crushed a few of the men, and made a loud getaway. It wanted a chase. More of the vehicles and a helicopter were following it. The beast picked up speed, smashing its side into buildings and crushing passing cars. A mass of armored vehicles arrived, blocking the creatures path. It made a stop and attempted to turn around, but more armored vehicles got in the way. Two buildings blocked its path on the right and left, too armored for it to break through. It was trapped.

Calvin Langley/Minitaur

Locations- Minotaur's lair and Warehouse in the Warehouse District.

October 23, 2130 - 7:36 PM

The sound of loud snoring echoed throughout a particular area of the underground tunnels sounding out from an alcove worn into the wall from years of neglect and some deliberate digging on the part of its resident. From the entrance, you could just see the form of the beast resting against the wall inside which while it seemed out of place here had made the place his own despite any challengers. There was enough room for a small table and shelf inside both full with various boxes, books, and papers which if any overflew ended up in some cardboard boxes further back out of the way. A humble living space for someone in the form of a legendary beast for sure but cozy given its size though it was obvious there were markings on the walls for further expansion later on. Then as if a switch flipped the great beast stirred at the sound of an alarm.

"Mmm...Huh wha?" Calvin half groaned and half questioned at the sound of his phone's alarm going off cutting through the haze of drowsiness.

He reached over to his side, eyes barely open as he fumbled around so he could shut off the alarm and figure who or what called in this time. However, unlike normal it wasn't in its usual spot next to him which forced the unwilling Minotaur to get up to look for it. It took him about ten minutes of searching through every place he would have put it normally before a beep from the device came in from near his ear which made him reach up to the crook between his horns and his head where it was lodged probably from turning around in his sleep. He sighed turning the screen on to see what all the fuss was about that interrupted a really nice nap.

"More Variants gone missing...construction in Bywater. Oh, a meeting! I better get moving or I'll be late!" Minitaur exclaimed quickly reaching into the hole behind where he slept pulling out his rebar club and a backpack with snacks in it for the trip.

Wonder how the others have been doing, guess I'll have time to ask later. Maybe schedule a game or something too.

Calvin tilted his head as he exited his "apartment" so he didn't catch his horns on the lip then started heading the direction of the warehouse. The benefit of being a Minotaur was he pretty much knew where to go as long as he had been there before so walking on autopilot while he munched on corn chips was a great way to wake up. It occurred to him after a little bit he'd be passing by an old acquaintance's domain of sorts or one of them at least so he took a slight detour to another smaller hole in the old sewer system's wall where a tiny green and black worm was looking at him from. He took out a bag of white cheddar popcorn and placed it down for not two seconds before the worm snagged it before crawling back into the crevice obviously as a worm could be pleased. With a chuckle, the cowman continued on his jaunt picking up the pace after his little delivery rushing quickly along the platforms thudding loudly as he did.

Minitaur finished gobbling up some mini pretzels just as he found the ladder he was looking for putting the bag into his pack again, no reason to litter, then climbed up pushing the cover out of the way. He had to maneuver his head and horns through first then getting up onto street level was easy as pie. Just like always he popped up right next to the warehouse where he headed into the back door eager to see everyone and what they were gonna be doing, at least he hoped this was the one they were going to. It was usually fun either way even if it was just a check-in but could be more this time so he came prepared.

Sebastian had been engrossed in Dante’s Inferno when his phone started blowing up from everyone in the goddamn bureau. He laced up his coyote tan tactical boots as he received the hurried situation report from the director of the FBI Variant division.

“Any reason why we’re having to react to this with no heads up?” Sebastian asked into the little ear mic and pulling the bottoms of his jeans over the boots.

“N.O.V.A. was all over this before we knew what was happening,” Director Harkin’s gravelly voice responded. “Whatever this variant is, we weren’t tracking it until it started to tear the city apart. Bravo Team is currently en route to the damn thing in the APC. Alpha should be at your door any minute.”

“Roger that,” Sebastian said already running down the stairs of his Midtown apartment building. “We got eyes in the sky?”

“The TOC will be giving you satellite coverage, just stand by for them to get online. I’ll spin up a couple drones, but no birds. M.A.D. is just as likely to shoot our asses out of the sky.”

Sebastian ran through the parking lot and stood on the sidewalk, looking down the street for his team. “What do you want us to do with this thing?”

The retired Ranger Battalion commander chuckled. “Killing it would be good, don’t you think?”

“Too easy, Sir," he said flatly. "Alright, I’m out. Tell those nerds up in operations to move their assess.”

The connection ended and Sebastian pulled the earpiece out, tucking it into a pocket. He caught sight of the black SUV weaving its way around traffic. It pulled right onto the sidewalk and sped toward him, coming to a screeching halt right in front of him. The back hatch opened and the three other members of Alpha Team jumped out of the vehicle. Sebastian immediately went to the open rear of the SUV. The space in the back was outfitted to carry a small armory of weapons and operational gear.

Michael, Richard, and Cameron joined him, with Cameron carrying all of Sebastian’s personal gear from the team room back at headquarters. They had not had time to change into their fatigues, either.

“I had to cut the lock,” Cameron said as he started handing the equipment to the Alpha Team leader, referring to Sebastian’s gear cage. His own equipment was on over a short sleeve button-down shirt and khaki cargo shorts.

“You forgot the combination?” Sebastian chided him as he quickly pulled his multicam plate carrier, covered in magazine pouches and all other manner of attachments, on over his black t-shirt. He strapped his knee pads around his jeans and put on his Kevlar-knuckled gloves. Finally he took his tan helmet, heavy with audio technology and night vision goggles, and buckled it over his chin.

“We were kind of in a hurry, princess,” Michael told him, turning Sebastian around to connect his audio cable to the SATCOM receiver strapped behind his shoulder. The white under shirt tucked into Michael's slacks and shiny silver belt buckle indicated that he had had more sophisticated plans for the evening. “Now, if you’re happy that your white pearls match your sea-colored gown, we’re going to be late to the gala.”

“This is bullshit, man,” Richard said as he took the wheel and the team loaded into the armored vehicle, with Sebastian taking the front passenger seat. “You see all those N.O.V.A. choppers flying around? Bet those boys aren’t going to be happy to see us”

As the vehicle sped back into the street, earning blaring horns from every car it passed, Sebastian watched the city fly by through the tinted window and prepared himself for the coming task.

“’They yearn for what they fear for’", he said to his reflection.



“For fuck’s sake.”

Richard was getting irritated as they neared the area where N.O.V.A was doing battle with the massive variant. The path of destruction leading there had been treacherous to navigate in the SUV, with toppled buildings blocking streets and cars strewn about everywhere. There were still civilians screaming and running about, trying to escape the calamity. Fires burned all around and the streets were filled with smoke. They began pulling nearer to the squad of M.A.D. armored vehicles and HMMWVs. Their mounted machine guns were alternating bursts at the thing from all around the perimeter while heavily armored dismounts bounded in and out of cover, trying to find a location to press the assault even harder.

“Avoid this,” Sebastian said, and Richard veered away from the main effort. “Bravo, this is Alpha One,” he said switching over to the squad channel. “I’m heading around the east end of the block. Swing around to the west and see what you can do on the other side of all this N.O.V.A.”

Helicopters executed strafing fire maneuvers intermittently over head before pulling back into the night sky to reset.

“TOC, Alpha One. What are we looking at?”

“A fuckin’ shit show,” Cameron answered drawing chuckles from Michael and Richard.

Elaine’s voice sounded over the headquarters frequency: “I wish I could tell you. Looks like a huge, nasty Variant from here. You’re clear on your flanking route, but N.O.V.A. already has a patrol blocking it in from the other side.”

“We’ll take our chances,” Sebastian said. “What about air assets?”

“I’m authorized to send surveillance drones out for you, just give us the word.”

“We don’t need surveillance, we need ordinance. These N.O.V.A. choppers are only annoying it. Tell Harkins I want a Predator in the air.”

“That’ll be a tough sell. He doesn’t-“

“Tell him I said ‘pretty please’,” Sebastian interrupted her. “Alpha One out.”

“Very smooth,” Michael said rapping his knuckles on the back of Sebastian’s helmet. “Playing hard to get, are we?”

Alpha One’s customary middle finger drew laughter from the team as they cut their way around the city streets.



The SUV pulled down the street on the other side of the N.O.V.A. perimeter just in time to see huge shadowy fists pummel the armored patrol cars stationed there to bits. Richard slammed on the breaks and Alpha Team watched the ensuing scene blankly. The few surviving M.A.D. agents stumbled out of their smashed vehicles and attempted to return fire on the thing, but it charged right through them and sent them flying in all directions.

The team remained expressionless in the moments of silence that followed, until the Variant slowly turned and looked straight at them.

“What do you think it wants?” Cameron finally said scratching his chin absently.

“You did some time in Civil Affairs, didn’t you?” Michael responded. “Why don’t you go offer it some pencils and a dental hygiene kit or something.”

They looked at the huge shadowy figure as it looked at them, the two entities studying each other.

“We’re not going to get very far if we-“ Cameron started to say, but he suddenly grabbed his helmet. “My head,” he tried to explain but was soon incapacitated by a sudden and intense pain.

“Shit,” Sebastian said, and he had a feeling that he knew where the attack had come from. “Engage.”

He jumped out of the passenger seat followed by Richard and Michael. They walked slowly and smoothly toward the Variant in a tight 'V' formation, alternating volleys of fire from their assault rifles. The Variant was backed up a few steps as the rounds impacted on its large body, but Richard was suddenly veering out of formation, sweeping his weapon around erratically.

“I can’t see shit!” he cried.

Michael tackled him against the wall of the building to their left, while Sebastian dove behind a car to the right, all of them narrowly escaping the N.O.V.A patrol vehicle the Variant had just hurled at them as soon as Richard had lost control.

Sebastian saw Cameron stumble out of the SUV, but he held up a fist to keep the man where he was. He gave Michael a nod and then leaned out from behind the car to suppress the Variant while he moved Richard across the street to join him behind the vehicle.

“Goddamn fog in my eyes, I can’t see,” Richard said in bewilderment followed by an elaborate string of expletives.

“Hey, get your shit together, Ranger,” he told him. “TOC, what’s the status on that Predator?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but ETA: five mikes,” Elaine said barely audible in the chaos.

Sebastian pulled a flash-bang out of a pouch on his vest, pulled the pin, and then threw it at the Varient. The team ducked their heads down and braced for the deafening detonation. When the flash of blinding light hit, they immediately leaned over the vehicle and resumed firing at the thing.

The Variant did indeed seem stunned by the grenade.

“He didn’t like that shit,” Michael said trying to keep Richards weapon pointed in the right direction as the man fired blindly. The bolt to his assault rifle locked back and he went down behind cover to change magazines.

Sebastian pulled Richards flash-bang off his kit and lit the Variant up one more time. He winced through the deafening ringing in his head as another blinding flash lit up the night, and the Variant recoiled dramatically from the bright light. His own weapon locked back and he took cover to reload, wondering how long they were going to be able to keep this up.

“Yee-haw, motherfuckers,” Bravo Team leader’s voice suddenly crackled over the squad net, and the beautiful sound of the Stryker APC’s fifty-caliber machine gun filled the air as Bravo Team flanked the Variant from the west.

Cameron took advantage of the distraction to rush over to his team. “It’s about time, Bravo,” he said over the net.

“You done crying?” Sebastian asked his friend offering a fist, which Cameron met with his own as they smiled.

A massive surge suddenly washed over the area that sent their audio devices screeching loudly into their ears. They all exchanged confused looks, including Richard, who seemed to have recovered his senses, as they huddled behind the car.

“TOC, Alpha One.” No response. “TOC, what the hell was that?” No response.

A sudden screaming of something big falling out of the sky came from over their heads, and Alpha Team all looked up to see their two-point-two million dollar Predator drone smash into a building at the end of the street and explode into a gigantic ball of flame.



The entire SRHRT stood in a semi circle around the downed Variant as a horde of N.O.V.A. agents swarmed it with tech that none of them recognized. M.A.D. had surrounded them as well; there was nothing left to do but watch as the highly specialized organization proceeded to contain the thing and take it away in a special detainment vehicle.

As the vehicle disappeared into the city, a man wearing a suit and tie began walking toward them, slow clapping and grinning from ear to ear.

“Now that’s what I call teamwork,” he said when he was standing in front of them “What a show, indeed.”

Sebastian took off his helmet and sweat ran down his face. He watched as N.O.V.A. began cleaning up its crew and evacuating the area. “What the hell was that thing?” he asked the man.

“Only one of the most dangerous Variants we have ever had contact with,” he answered. "A shadow variant, apparently. Nothing a group of battle-hardened individuals like the SRHRT couldn’t handle. Obviously.”

His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“You owe us two million dollars, fucker,” Richard said to deflect the insult, and Bravo team laughed.

“Were you really prepared to destroy yourselves along with half the city by dropping hellfire missiles on a Variant?” When Alpha Team only stared intensely at him, his smug expression changed to one of disbelief.

“EMP,” the man stated, his admiration for the squad dissipating. “The biometrics we were gathering on the Variant during this little exchange led us to believe we could incapacitate it temporarily with a massive pulse of electricity. Hence,” -he sailed his hand through the air with a low whistle to mimic their precious drone- “boom.”

Alpha Team looked at each other casually and shrugged.

Sebastian turned to Bravo Team’s leader. “You guys are all set. Get our APC out of here before we have to bill N.O.V.A. for that, too.”

The man gave an emphatic ‘roger that’ and collected his team into the Stryker. They pulled it out of the street, its six wheels crunching over debris as it left.

“So now what?” Cameron asked the man.

“Now we consider this a step toward improving relations between our organizations,” he answered gazing about at the destruction all around them. “If you hadn’t provided such a critical distraction, we would not have been able to secure the Variant.”

And with no further dialogue the mysterious N.O.V.A agent spun about and walked off down the crumbling, burning street, leaving Alpha team, battered and dirty, to stand amidst the wreckage.

“’The devil is not as black as he is painted’", Sebastian said quietly into the night.

Midtown

October 23rd, 2130, 8:40 PM

"Alright! Pack it up!" one of the N.O.V.A operatives shouted at the others. Additional N.O.V.A convoy vehicles and transports arrived with new extraction and containment equipment. Soldiers, operatives, and vehicles were scrambling all over the place as they were trying to load the Variant inside the Transport while defending the area from other possible hostiles. One of the operatives pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "... pick up... pick up..." he said under his breath. Finally, an answer. "Sir? We got it... Yeah, it will be on the way soon... Alright... Yeah... Yes sir... Yes, we lost some guys... yeah... the thing is under con..." Suddenly, the Beasts arm twitched, crushing another N.O.V.A vehicle. Thankfully it was parked and nobody was inside. "Shit... Yeah... Oh, uh... the thing just moved... Alright..." The operative said and finished the call. "Hurry up! This thing wont haul itself!"
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
N.O.V.A Labs

October 23rd, 2130, 10:00 PM

The variant awoke to find itself trapped inside a room lit with blue lights and lined with steel panels. A large glass window made up one of the 4 walls. A large blast door was placed at the back of the room. Scientists, guards, and work personnel flooded the large room on the other side of the window, guarding, working, studying, or chatting with others. Multiple guards and scientists were looking at the creature with fascination and curiosity spread all over their faces. "What is that thing?" One of the younger scientists asked. "We call it ES1-7, or Subject 7... We found it rampaging through the city earlier today. If it wasn't for the S.R.H.R.T and the M.A.D Squads, this thing would still be on the streets doing god knows what." one of the other scientists responded. 7 stood up and moved towards the the glass, reared back, and trusted its fist. The scientists jolted back a bit in response, but before 7's fist made contact with the glass, some strange electrical field took hold and tossed the fist away. 7 screeched at the sudden burst, its fist smoking after the contact. "An electromagnetic field... Sorry 7. Your not leaving today." The second scientist said. 7 grunted and rested its body on the floor.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
N.O.V.A Labs

October 24th, 2130, 6:00 AM

"Log #001... My name is Dr. James Calvano. This is my study log. Today I will be Studying ES1-7. *ahem*... ES1-7 appears to be some unidentified class of Variant. It made a rampage through the city on October 23rd at 7:30 PM. Numerous N.O.V.A soldiers and S.R.H.R.T troops took it down after a devastating rampage. 12 N.O.V.A operatives were killed in action, 38 were hospitalized and 8 Civilians were killed, 37 were injured. The total destruction rating is still pending, but our scans show a current destruction rating of 29/100. Final results still pending. The Beast sent the whole Midtown area into chaos. We estimate 5% of Midtown was destroyed by this thing. If it were to escape again, the damage could be even greater. This creature might have the ability to destroy the whole city if we are not careful... ES1-7 appears to resemble some kind of shadow monster. Its body behaves like a shadow in some way, as if it has no true shape or form. It also seems damaged by light. Earlier today, we extracted some body matter from S7 and placed a bright light on top of it. The results were... interesting... We took note that S7 became irritated every time light touched its body, so we tested what would happen if we exposed its body matter to light for an extended period of time. Its body matter burned away until there was nothing left of it. Not even on the atomic scale. We believe it is the reason why S7 attacked at night, and avoided brighter areas. We also discovered while combating S7, it is taken down with a hit from an EMP. We assume it collects some form of electricity and stores it in its body, and an EMP overloads that energy, therefore shutting it down. We are now using N.O.V.A registered Variants that can control electricity to deal with 7 if it makes an escape attempt. N.O.V.A elites are constantly stationed in and around the containment area and an EMP fail-safe has been installed inside the facility. 1 main generator is active and running to power the containment field, 2 secondary generators keep the other systems running, and 5 separately connected backup generators just in case if the power goes out. Constant surveillance and security protocols are ongoing 24/7. Guards switch day and night posts and shifts to ensure that S7 does not escape undetected. Finally, 3 containment teams with specialized equipment to capture and recapture S7 and are always ready to go at all times. N.O.V.A attempted and failed to contain the propaganda on this thing. Its public and word about the incident has spread all over the internet. N.O.V.A assures the public that the incident has been handled, and the damages are being repaired. N.O.V.A is thinking about giving the S.R.H.R.T this information, and any further logs... That's all I have today. I will try to gather more information and studies to fill the logs..."

*END OF LOG #001*

---

He’d taken his favourite running route, a direct path to Battery Bridge and then hugging the water along River Street until he started to hit Ville Rouge. It was on his return leg that he saw him, and then only by chance. The figure slumped in an alleyway, was temporarily illuminated by the headlights of a passing car, the familiar shape quickly bringing Felix’s jog to a halt even as he overshot the alley. Removing his earphones, he scanned his surroundings and found he was alone on this side of the alley. He was tempted to keep running, but his sense of civic duty took over and he resolved to at least check. If they were already dead, well... he was powerless. But he could at least report it to the police. If they weren’t dead, well then he could be useful in his own unique way.

Checking his surroundings once more, he pulled his hood up, his headband down to cover his lower face and crouched down beside the body. His nose wrinkled at the metallic tang in the air, drawing his attention to the fatally large pool of blood he had entered. The guy, Hispanic looking with visible gang tattoos, was clutching his abdomen and proved unresponsive to a verbal query or a quick shake to the shoulder. Not feeling very optimistic, he nonetheless reached out to tentatively test for a pulse and was pleasantly surprised by the faint throbbing he felt beneath his fingers. Quickly checking the alley once more for any possible spectators and finding none, he lifted up the man’s t-shirt and pressed his hands to the wound. He closed his eyes tight and focused his consciousness on the flesh beneath him.

He quickly focused on finding the larger severed blood vessels and poured his energy into them, cell growth accelerating at a superhuman rate to reconnect the broken veins and arteries. He then searched for organ and muscle damage, feeling his powers flow into the man’s liver and lungs to duplicate cells, knit together the fibres of his intercostal muscles and even smooth over his ribs where the blade had nicked the bone. Fatigue started to hit as Felix retreated back into his own body attempting to fix broken nerves as he went. His eyes opened just in time to see the skin neatly meld back together. There would be bruising, as he had learnt not to spend time fixing smaller capillaries and finer details after a couple of negative reactions his ‘patients’ had on waking up before he’d finished. He felt the stranger stir and quickly stood.

---

”You’re way too fast, Cerberus..,” came a heavy breath, Connor’s hand moving to wipe droplets glistening upon his forehead. Beside him stood a dog more akin to that of a proud, massive wolf, a fuzzy snout moving to rub against the boy’s shape. They had been friends since Cerberus was first found, a fragile pup, wounded and on death’s doorstep. Such was the case where a relationship between a teenager and his dog grew stronger than steel. ”You’ve gotten so big..,” Connor spoke, a long sigh managing its way past his pale lips. Tenderly combing his claws through Cerberus’ fur, the Variant leaned against an iron-wrought fence, separating him from peacefully running water.

Taking a moment to rest, Connor lowered himself to the grass-covered ground, his canine companion following suit. A lovely evening, indeed, warmth still lingering in every passing breeze. Soon, Connor would be forced to wear jackets, his scrawny body unable to maintain resistance in the face of unforgiving cold. ”It was a good burger, huh?” Connor asked, a small grin stretching itself across his mouth, ”you almost ate mine.., you goof,” the boy’s grin widened, revealing a row of sharp, shark-like teeth. However, if a level of intimidation accompanied the fact, it was soon dispelled by Cerberus, as the dog’s tongue made itself at home against the Variant’s face. ”Love you, too..,” the teen mumbled, wiping a sleeve against his visage.

There was a short pause before an obsidian gaze rose across the lake, Connor’s attention landing on a peculiar scene, which warranted a second glance. ”Isn’t that..?” The boy squinted, leaning forward as if the act would offer a better view. That, however, was not the case. ”Come on,” Connor spoke, rising to his feet before hurrying towards the river bend. Was that Felix? More importantly, was that a body?

Only moments passed, and Connor managed to even the distance, where a clear picture was then painted. It was Felix.., and he was doing something to that body. Was he healing it? ”Mr. Pernass?” The teen called out, halting his stride with Cerberus at his side.

---

Felix reflexively looked up at hearing his name and instantly regretted the automatic response. There at the end of the alleyway was one of his pupils. Connor. The only other variant he knew personally. He stared at the ghostly teen, suddenly realising what the scene must look like. His scarf had slipped off his face and hood off his head, leaving him completely recognisable as he stood covered in blood over an unmoving body in a dark alley.

Fuck.

He had two options. Run and hope he wasn’t caught by his student’s pet wolf and deal with any fallout tomorrow. Stay and try to explain. The awkward moments ticked by but before Felix could make a decision the silence was broken by a gasping breath as stabbing victim beside him woke up.

Fuck.

Felix wipes his hands on his running leggings before shoving them into his hoodie pockets. ”Connor,” he said calmly and strongly walking toward his student, ”We should get out of here.” He passed the entrance of the alleyway and led them back towards the more public, well-lit waterside where he sat with a groan onto the grass.

---

There was not much Connor could consider a skill. He was painfully average in most of what school entailed, he had no physical gifts, and he was, by every measure, a weakling. Indeed, there was little this boy could pat himself on the shoulder, in regards to. Little, but not nothing. He was a painter, and an exceptional artist, someone whose occupation for the future had already been set in stone. The teenager had oftentimes claimed to dream of one day leaving behind a legacy of breathtaking imagery like the legendary Leonardo Davinci, and more humbly, the beloved Bob Ross.

Indeed, Connor lacked the blessing of physical prowess, and his skills with numbers were laughable. Every gathering of school grades left him with Bs and Cs rowing the document, with one obvious exception. He was a painter, and a painter noted details with immaculate acuity. There was no knife in Felix’ hand, the blood on his clothes couldn’t possibly have been the result of spraying veins, and most importantly, Connor was certain to have seen something far more supernatural take place.

The sun had given room for an evening glow, and where the teenager’s eyesight was hampered by light, he saw far better in darkness than the average man. A reasonable trade-off. ”You closed it..,” came a small comment, Connor’s weightless steps bringing him closer towards his teacher with Cerberus vigilantly attentive. The scent of blood trickling into his nose immediately conjured forth a desire to protect. ”That man’s wound,” Connor continued, his unnaturally large, black eyes remaining fixed on Felix, ”you closed it,” the boy finished, his clawed hand shifting to a clenched fist. ”I thought I was the only one..,” Connor breathed, a frown making itself visible on his features. ”I was told.., I was the only one.”

---

Felix’s face betrayed his pleasant surprise at Connor’s deduction of reality and not an assumption. To be honest, he didn’t know why he’d assumed anything less from the intelligent kid. But on his nighttime excursions, he’d acclimatised to assume the worst… “Connor…” Felix struggled to find the right words. Conflicted between comforting his student and protecting himself. Maybe he could do both…

He turned to look his student in his large dark eyes. “You’re right.” He admitted. “You’re not the only one. I…” Felix’s voice caught in his throat. “I can heal.” It was hard to say out loud after all this time. He took one of the boy’s atypical hands in his own. “But you can’t tell anyone what you’ve seen. Can you promise me that?” He was all too aware that his pleading sounded cliché but he couldn’t… he couldn’t go back to being… known.

---

Clenching his teeth, Connor lowered that obsidian glare to the ground. There was an obvious nature of disgruntled dissatisfaction prevalent upon the boy’s pale face, his ghostly voice leaving nothing but silence in the wake of Felix’ response. Slowly, the teenager turned to face an ever-moving flow of water which harmonically continued to drift past the pair, his expression quietly treading into a small chuckle, which then elevated to laughter. One would be forgiven for deeming the teenager one who had taken leave of sanity, considering such an unorthodox reaction. Indeed, the boy was laughing, his spectral voice dubbing it a verbal string which would perfectly fit the most stereotypical of villains. What could have added a disturbing tint, however, was that within Connor’s ghostly vocals, one could clearly hear a teenaged boy, more likely auditioning him for a role in horror.

His hand once touched, felt like sleek, silk-coated bone, those dark claws easily mistaken for polished spikes. ”Yeah.., not every Monster wants to be in the centre of attention,” Connor stated, his demeanour oddly shifted. However, it was not too terribly difficult to deduce his innermost thoughts. He was not alone, and that’s what mattered. Whatever proceeded to transpire from here on out, at least he had seen it. At least he knew that there were others like him close by, and not only on the television screen. Offering Felix a razor-toothed grin, Connor once more found himself chuckling, unable to stifle himself. ”Yeah, dude, I won’t tell anyone that Jesus is here. Would be too ironic..,” he stated, winking at the man, ”coming from me.”

---

Felix couldn’t lie and say that Connor’s laughing wasn’t disturbing given the situation but wasn’t comforted by it stopping either. When the teen Variant spoke Felix’s heartstrings were torn. He had hoped that being another visible variant could possibly help Connor in some way. He’d naively failed to consider that his own powers may cause the boy further pain in contrasting both their physical visibility and perceived usefulness.

His relief at Connor’s agreement to secrecy was palpable but short-lived as the Messiah comparison was made. He forced a laugh but his mirth failed to reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far. Don’t expect me to walk across that,” he gestured at the body of water before them, “and you’re too young for me to go turning your water into wine.” He turned to give a genuine smile at the boy this time, “and anyway if I die there’s no coming back. You’d have to do that right?” He was unsure whether his comment was tasteful but was relishing being able to talk openly with another human being about his abilities.

---

”Heh, that’d be a useful ability..,” Connor commented, turning his eyes once more towards the river. With a small grunt, the boy sat beside his teacher, seeing how Cerberus made himself comfortable, a large lupine head dropping onto its owner’s lap in the pursuit of relaxation.

Offering his professor a smirk, the ghostly teen proceeded to shake his head, ”I don’t like wine, Mr Pernass,” he stated, a small bout of silence following before Connor pitched his second verse. ”...I prefer whisky,” he confessed, that otherwise menacing grin, drawn somewhat endearing. ”Don’t tell mom, though,” the Variant raised a claw, ”she’d be really disappointed in me. I mean.., she loves wine.”

Where many, if not most Variants were quite sensitive about their nature, Connor dove head-first into the darkness which was his own. ”Have you read my file, Mr Pernass?” The little ‘Monster’ joked. His powers were public knowledge, considering how he had signed them up with N.O.V.A, and they were clearly displayed in his personal documents afforded schools, doctors, and other venues. ”I just need a few more and I can reenact ‘Thriller’. I don’t know if being a zombie will net you any social security, though.” The boy finished, following along the joke, wholeheartedly.

---

His student’s open candidness wasn’t a surprise but was oddly refreshing in this otherwise tense situation for Felix. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Connor’s whiskey confession, the guffaw carrying across the water. Of course, he had a professional concern about a 16-year-old of his drinking whiskey, but to be honest that was the least of his concerns and most likely even Connor’s. He didn’t even know if alcohol had the same effects on Connor’s body as his own… His outburst stemmed more from the ridiculousness of the whole conversation!

He regarded his student with fresh eyes, seeing a genuinely carefree and childish aspect to what many called a monster. Felix nodded. Of course, he’d read Connor’s file. Much detailed information about his powers was redacted with only information deemed relevant for professionals to know included, mostly about his physiology, intelligence and aversion to sunlight. But there was enough there for his teacher to have a clear idea about his abilities. Felix had often found himself defending Connor in the staff lounge against anti-Variant comments and had been the first (and only) volunteer to accommodate the youngster in his classroom during his preparation period when somewhere was needed for the ‘little monster’ during sports class.

And yet here he was joking about turning his geography teacher undead to re-enact Thriller. This kid was a treasure. “Well, I already know the moves. So that’s one less thing for you to worry about.” he replied with a wink. He turned to look at his student once more and asked the question that he’d mulled over for a couple of months now. “How are you doing?” he asked, inwardly cringing at the awkwardness of the question. He was a great teacher but always struggled with the pastoral side of his role. Yet here he couldn’t help but reach out and possibly provide something, anything, that he wished he’d had as a child.

---

Tilting his head at the statement slung his way, Connor turned his attention towards Cerberus, his claws tenderly combing their way through the Wolf Dog’s grey fur. It was an understandable question, especially considering Felix’ position. He was a teacher and one of the only faculty members at Connor’s school who afforded the Monster Boy equal measure respect and affection. Something many of the other professors left vacant.

A small, tender smile bridged itself across Connor’s lips, the teenager’s point of focus shifting from the fuzzy beast on his lap, towards Felix himself. ”Thank you for asking, Mr Pernass.” Connor began, those sharp digits absentmindedly providing comfort for Cerberus, where the canine silently laid. ”And, I’m alright,” the little ‘Monster’ continued, offering his professor a playful, shark-like grin. ”I mean, I won’t stop being me just cause’ I decide to get offended by what people say,” he shrugged. ”No matter what happens, I’ll always be a Monster, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” the teenager stated, determination leaking through that otherwise playful demeanour. ”Besides, I’m represented in Disney movies like.., way more than any other Variant. Sometimes I even have a happy ending,” came a giggle.

Despite everything, Connor appeared sure of himself, and not averse to who he saw in the mirror each and every day. ”There’s no one able to make me feel bad over who I am, Mr. Pernass,” the boy’s expression revealed a genuine smile, warm and confident. ”And it only proves that those who decide to hang out with me, are real friends.” Connor finished, his embrace around Cerberus tightening for a moment, before he once more relaxed. ”The world’s as colourful as you decide to make it, right?” The ironically colourless boy explained, followed by a small chuckle.

---

The elder figure was left in awe of his companion’s self-assurance, confidence and general outlook. He honestly couldn’t comprehend how the kid maintained such a positive character despite everything the world put up against him. Suddenly, the teacher who had set out to comfort his students found himself on the receiving end of his own intentions, roles reversed. He was being comforted by his student. “Damn Connor,” he admitted, “I only wish I’d been half as certain as you at your age…” Then maybe none of ‘it’ would have happened. He sighed looking down at his bloodstained hands, “my powers aren't as great as you might think...” Felix blinked back a tear and cleared his throat, determined not to think about the past.

He promptly stood up, lending his student a hand. ”Come on,” he smiled, ”let’s get home. Hopefully, we won’t run into any more… ‘distractions’.” Whilst he was fully aware that Connor was more than capable of looking after himself if he encountered any trouble, and realistically there was little Felix could actually do, so he fought his instincts and happily let the boy walk home alone. ”See you tomorrow!” he shouted before re-inserting his earphones and starting his run home once more.

---

Dylann Hunt sat in her office at 1 Marshal Avenue dressed in regular blue jeans, a white button down top, and a pair of flats. She had rushed out in the wake of the attack on Midtown and hadn't had an opportunity to don her usual professional attire. So much for meatloaf night. Instead, she had to settle for the takeout that was brought to her moments ago by the man seated on the other side of her desk. Bryan Drake, the Warden of MAD's Detainment Facility, was settled into his chair with his arms folded wearing his signature frown. He and Dylann had been working together for years and he admired her for her sharp mind. Dylann let out an audibly irritated sigh as she finished her meal.

"This is a fucking train wreck...no, scratch that. I'd rather be dealing with a train wreck," she said, tossing her fork into the empty takeout container.

"You know confinement won't be enough. Everyone will be screaming for a death sentence."

"Yes, I know...and I would agree one hundred percent," Dylann said quite matter-of-factly. "But, unfortunately, I have to go through the proper channels."

"I say fuck the proper channels. We need to ex this thing right now. You saw what it did to the city...this was a deliberate malicious attack on innocent, unsuspecting people!"

"No need to get loud, Bryan. The process is in place for a reason. If we don't follow it, we're just as much a murderer as that jolly black giant."

"Sometimes extreme measures have to be taken, Dylann. This is on par with terrorism."

"Our job is to control the extremes...not abuse or create them. We have enough bullshit to deal with without rattling cages."

"Well, I'm really not trying to argue here. Just stating my outrage with this whole situation," Bryan said as he rose from his chair. "Variants like that shouldn't be allowed to roam free. I'll even go as far to say that some should just plain disappear."

Dylann sat a little straighter in her chair and folded her arms, her facial expression remaining neutral.

"And at the end of the day, whenever they do merc this freak, it'll be getting what it deserves and society will be better for it."

Drake exited the office without another word, leaving Dylann to contemplate NOVA's next move.

---

Sierra's phone vibrated in her pocket once again halfway through her trek to the warehouse district. Her mouth hung open a little when the news break appeared on the screen. Wow...I was just over there! How did I miss…? Sierra whipped around and faced the direction she had come from. Gazing curiously toward Midtown, she fought the strong urge to head to ground zero and analyze the wreckage. After a moment's contemplation, she resigned herself to continuing her journey to meet with the Underground. She wasn't really the type to keep others waiting on her.

The lights became less and less prevalent as she neared her destination. Parts of the warehouse district were still very much abandoned and didn't necessarily warrant spending money on a lot of street lights. When the building came into view, Sierra gave a slight grin of familiarity. It was like one of several second homes sprawled throughout the city, a place where being a Variant was actually the norm and not the exception. She suspected that others were already inside since she was rarely the first to arrive at anything.

There wasn't an immediately apparent way to get into the building upon first glance since all of the doors were sealed off and the windows were too high up to climb into. Around the side, however, there was a catwalk that lead to a door on the upper floor. The problem was that the flight of stairs leading up to the catwalk had completely collapsed forever ago…or, at least, it would be a problem if you weren't a Variant capable of flight. There was also a secret entrance for those who couldn't access the upper door, but Sierra never used it. She flew up to the outer walk and entered the warehouse.



She could hear the light chattering of a few voices coming from the floor level of the warehouse, one of which belonged, of course, to Manny. She casually descended the stairs, each step softly clanging as her sneakers met the steel. As she rounded a collapsed wall, she spotted the small gathering of Variants nestled comfortably into a nice little alcove of the room. Manny was accompanied by Ruby, Graffite, Siren, and Noxia. Sierra gave a small wave as she approached the group.

"You made it, firefly," Manny said with a sly grin. Sierra readily responded with a certain unkind hand gesture. She wasn't too fond of that particular nickname, and Manny took every opportunity to pester her with it.

"So, is anyone else coming or am I the last of the Mohicans?"

---

A worried call from Connor’s mother was what welcomed him into their house. Her absence remained, but the disembodied voice trickling into the boy’s ear made sure to confirm his well-being, and location. ”I just got home after walking Cerbie,” Connor explained, slipping out of his shoes, ”why, what happened?” The boy continued, a dainty hand reaching for the television controller, as he had been instructed.

“A Variant attacked midtown, we’re getting packed full of patients. Stay inside, Connor, don’t go out anymore, tonight,” Claire Everest stated, the pale creature’s mother, and concerned parent. They had lived by themselves for as long as Connor could remember, and memories of his father were all but vacant. Indeed, upon approaching the issue, it was quickly dismissed, and the little ‘Monster’ was left with unanswered questions for a past shrouded in mystery. As far as he knew, he never even had the second part of a typical, parental set. There was only one aspect of the situation which shone through every time the teenager attempted to coax his mother into an explanation, and that was her distaste for the man.

”I didn’t plan on going out, anymore,” a black claw pressed down on the controller in Connor’s hand. It mattered little which news channel he tuned into, as every anchor behind a camera covered the same story.

“Good,” Claire returned, “I have to go, sweetheart.., I’ll likely have to work overtime tonight,” she sighed. After a catastrophe like they had witnessed, the worst one in modern times, overtime was the least of anyone’s concern.

”Okay, mom,” Connor offered, his obsidian gaze fixed on the television screen. Constant coverage of Midtown was being streamed through the polished surface, chaos and mayhem stretching across a large part of the city. Buildings had been toppled, the streets were torn asunder, and vehicles were haphazardly tossed about. ”I’ll see you when you get home..,” the teen finished, his voice slowly fading, along with the development displayed before him.

Dropping to the sofa, Connor slipped out of his sweater, that scrawny frame coming into full view of Cerberus, before the large canine joined his master on the comfortable foundation of soft, sturdy cushions. ”Holy fuck, that’s horrible..,” the Variant clenched his teeth, slender arms resting on Cerberus’ shape where the Wolf Dog laid his head on Connor’s lap. From footage of devastation, the camera’s focus soon shifted to a gathering of people sitting at a debate table.

“Let’s be honest,” came a statement from a woman Connor could recall. She was an anti-Variant journalist, constantly writing pieces damning ‘Monsters’ of the world. “This came as a surprise to no one. We’re letting these Variants march around freely, without supervision, and then we get shocked when this happens?” She moved a hand towards the large screen behind them, indicating the destruction caused by what had been dubbed ‘Subject 7’.

“You can’t use this as fuel to hate monger, Mary,” a man replied, the frown on his face confirming a dissatisfied response. “The thing that attacked didn’t even look sentient. You’re using deaths caused by an actual monster to attack Variants who are just as human as you and I.”

“It’s difficult not to see Mary’s point on this, James,” came a third voice, another woman who often found herself in a position debating the Variant issue. “We have Variants in our schools, too. What happens if they have a ‘bad day’,” she gestured with her fingers, “will that be enough for us to act? You don’t know if this.., shadow thing was sentient, or not.”

“They can be dangerous, let’s not kid ourselves,” James added, “but holding a biological part of their being against them is just intellectually dishonest,” he continued. “Any human who wants to cause damage can do so just as easily. I think the entire history of mankind is proof enough, for that, Nina.”

“Are you willing to compare a human with a gun..,” Nina rebutted, before turning her attention to the screen revealing Midtown in its aftermath, “to that?” She raised a brow, “many of these Variants are actual nukes, James. At the very least, we need to escalate some form of control.”

“And what do you suggest?” The male journalist asked, looking to the two women who opposed him on the issue of Variant security. “Concentration camps? Separate schools for Variants? Are they all going to start wearing ankle monitors?”

Mary, who had been quiet between for a short spell, decided to speak up. “Whatever’s necessary to prevent this,” she yet again indicated the screen. “There are five million Variants on the planet. Five million, among billions of people, and yet.., they could destroy the whole world. That should tell you something about the powers we’re dealing with.” The woman now raised her voice, “those buildings that were destroyed weren’t empty, James. They’re still searching through the ruins after survivor.., and the kill count keeps rising.”

Exhaling a deep breath, Connor rubbed his forehead. This was escalating quickly, and the moment his mother called about what had taken place in Midtown, he knew immediately that the ramifications would be far-reaching. This wasn’t going to pass within the next week’s news. This was a disaster, both for Variants, and for humanity.

I have seen true evil in this world. I know that it exists, and that beholding it in its truest form will leave a man changed forever. I have looked into its eyes, peered into its gaping maw as it swallowed me whole, and I have lived in it for longer periods than I care to confess. Yet I find myself able to live with knowing that in some instances evil has been upon me so quickly, so completely, that coexisting with it is the only way that I could have survived those coldest of nights.

But what I cannot release myself from is those moments when evil took my hand in its own wicked claw, and I allowed it to lead me down the darkest of paths, even against my own screaming internal protests. We do not fail to execute on our objectives, we do not fail to accomplish the mission no matter the cost, even if the cost is one piece of our humanity at a time, until we are lost forever.

I have escaped that final eventuality. In my experience with Variants and their struggle to find a place in normal society, I have slowly begun to rely on what I once knew-that I have always known- to be right and wrong. There can be no more compromise with evil. It must be destroyed, Variant or human, just as those doing good must be upheld and protected. I believe that there is light yet left inside of me somewhere. However, my fear is that I do not possess the courage to embrace it.

S.A.



Alpha Team threw all of their gear into the cage in the team room and slammed the doors closed; the days training was over. They finished changing into civilian clothes and gathered their things to leave, ready to take advantage of a little rest and relaxation before the alarms sounded again.

“You guys been following the news?” Richard asked as he finished getting his things together. “Those N.O.V.A. assholes got all the credit for busting that fucking Variant.” He shook his head, the unforgettable feeling of being unnaturally blinded by the thing playing through his mind.

“What do you think, boss?” he then said to Sebastian stroking his beard. “Alpha One should have been on all the late night shows after that one.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Sebastian said flatly as he started putting his personal things away. “We did what we had to do.”

Richard scoffed. “Well, you’d be a shitty interview, anyway, if that’s all you have to say about it. You ever gonna grow a personality?” he joked.

He looked at his watch suddenly. “Damn. I gotta get going before the wife starts bitching.”

But the team already knew that this was just tough-guy talk; they were all aware of how head-over-heels in love with his wife the man was, and that he could not wait to go running home to her every day.

“Better get moving, then,” Michael said with a grin. “I’ll walk you out. I’m getting together with my girlfriend tonight.”

“Which one?” Cameron asked throwing a used towel at him.

Michael swatted it away. “Both of them, if I’m lucky,” he replied with a wink and a toss of his freshly washed hair, drawing laughter from his teammate. He and Richard headed out of the room to begin their respective festivities.

Cameron stood with his pack slung over one shoulder, watching Sebastian take his time packing up and making sure that everything was neatly placed in his backpack. There was no humor on the man’s face, only the quiet reservation that seemed to persist at all times.

“You should come out with us,” he stated adjusting his thin glasses.

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning to his pack. “Maybe some other time.”

It was the anticipated response. Sebastian had not been seen by the team outside of being on missions since they all started.

Cameron and Sebastian had become friends since they began working with the SRHRT, or as close to being friends as they could be for only ever seeing each other when it was go time. It was clear that the Alpha Team leader endured a different level of conviction for the life he left behind to work for the FBI, and it saddened him.

“Listen,” Cameron said walking over to his teammate. “I don’t presume to understand what it is that you’re going through. Hell, we’ve all been in the shit more times than we can count. I get that you went deeper than the rest of us. You Delta guys are spooky.”

“What’s your point?”

Cameron sighed. “My point is that secluding yourself in that apartment of yours, staring at the four walls, is only going to drive you deeper into whatever hell you’re still living in. You want to take care of Stephanie, I get it. She’s a good girl and she’s proud of you. But you’re no good to anyone until you can look at yourself in the mirror again.”

With no reply forthcoming from Sebastian, Cameron headed out, leaving him alone in the team room.



The evening bustle of Midtown was in full effect, lit up and alive. People were walking along the sidewalks, coming in and out of bars and small eateries along the way. The traffic was busy and loud, its usual commotion, filled with drivers going home or heading to more relaxing destinations to escape the chaos of the inner city.

Sebastian noticed none of it as he walked aimlessly through it all, both hands in his jeans pockets and looking at the ground. He was a ghost to all who passed by, and they were but phantoms harmlessly surrounding him as he headed to no destination in particular. He did not know what had possessed him to venture out onto such an excursion in the first place.

Perhaps it was Cameron’s words still echoing in his head from earlier that day. The former Special Forces weapon sergeant had a way of doing that to him. Sebastian couldn’t decide if he was grateful or irritated by that fact. The impact was greater this time because he had brought his sister into it, which Cameron had identified as the best way to try to get through to him.

A buzzing in his pocket, then, and Sebastian felt a sense relief come over him at the thought of being called back into action. But the feeling was short-lived as he realized it was just a text on his civilian phone. He stopped at the corner of a busy intersection, zipped his black hoodie up against the chilly breeze, and swiped his screen open.

It was Stephanie.

[Are you working?]

For a split second Sebastian considered telling her that he was, but he knew he could never lie to her.

[No]

[You’re avoiding me. Haven’t seen you in weeks.]

[Been busy.]

[But I miss you… :-( ]

Sebastian looked away from the text and glanced around at the busy city, trying to think of how he could possibly respond to that statement by his sister. Of course he had been avoiding her. It had been many years since they last saw each other before he returned to New Haven. The person that she remembered was simply not there anymore, and he did not want her to ever have to know about the things that had transpired during his long absence, or to get to know the person that it had left behind. He kept their encounters brief-coffee here, breakfast there-just enough for him to see that she was happy and safe.

At length, he said the same thing that he always did, because, as always, he just did not know what else to say:

[Soon.]

He jammed his phone back into his pocket, gritting his teeth, and decided that he had enough excitement for one night.

---

The sizzling of fried eggs was accompanied by a small yawn from the creature half-heartedly holding onto a spatula, occasionally intruding with the development of a soon finished breakfast. ”Mom got home really late yesterday,” Connor spoke, his attention on Cerberus whose grey gaze was transfixed on the sizzling meal belonging to someone else, entirely. Though an adorable, and fearsome to some, canine, one required the ability to ignore those large, puppy dog eyes pleading for more than they required. Such was the way of a domesticated beast. They had grown complacent. In regards to Cerberus, the alternative was a deterrent. If Connor and his mother Claire had not decided to take the beast in, he would have passed on a street corner long ago, forgotten and faded into obscurity. A true death, indeed, where not even memories persisted.

Sliding the eggs from their previously cozy warmth, to a plate complete with slices of cucumber and tomato, Connor moved the pan he had been using and made sure to turn the heat off. He had forgotten once before, and it was a mistake had learned from, dearly. ”Let’s see what’s on the news,” came another yawn from the Variant, his petite frame dispelling the distance between the kitchen and a comfortable sofa, his bare, clawed feet clicking against the floor with every step.

As was a common, repeated scene, Connor sat with his canine companion, the fuzzy beast’s presence a warm, loving addition to any time of day. It helped, being dressed in little more than a tank-top and boxers, however, as Cerberus’ fur acted as blanket against Connor’s exposed, pale shape. ”Just more debates,” the Variant sighed, biting into a forkful of eggs and cucumber. It would be foolish to dismiss these shared conversations, as their resolution could very well shape the state of America. After what happened, an already fragile truce between Variants and humans had grown exponentially weaker. ”At least human-looking Monsters will be able to get through this easily, enough,” the boy stated, biting into another bout of eggs and vegetables. It shifted his thoughts towards his teacher, Felix Pernass. He seemed quite melancholy through parts of their interaction, and while Connor resented the notion of assumptions, it would be reasonable to regard a less than stellar past. Variants were treated with distrust or hatred in many parts of the states, and considering Mr. Pernass’ apprehension of being exposed as a ‘Monster’, the conclusion was easy enough to draw.

Finishing his meal, Connor exhaled a long sigh in response to events unfolding upon the surface of their television screen. The day would likely result in constant talk about what had transpired last night. He wasn’t looking forward to school, but there was little else he could do, than get dressed and head out. ”I love you, Cerberus,” Connor spoke, placing a kiss on the Wolf Dog’s snout, following his preparation with pants, a sweater, and socks. His shoulder bag soon found home across his chest, and the converse shoes on his feet dotted the final sequence in this morning ritual. ”Don’t wake mom, alright? She’s had a rough night,” the Variant stated, scratching his beloved friend behind a large, pointed ear. ”See you later, buddy, be good,” Connor resolved, opening the door in a path to school. Not a day he was looking forward to, but one he needed to face.

---

As Felix sat eating his pasta salad at his desk, he allowed himself time to relax for the first time that day and his thoughts returned to the tumultuous last 24 hours... He had saved a man’s life with his powers and been spotted by one of his students. He’d made the run home with no more incidents, but after having scrubbed himself clean of both his own sweat and a stranger’s blood, he had sat on his couch for hours watching the horrific scenes that had unfolded downtown...

He had tentatively entertained the idea of going back outside to help but caught himself as he opened his closet to reach for a black t-shirt. He’d already been exposed once tonight, and no doubt both Midtown and the hospital would be crawling with N.O.V.A. and other authorities. He closed the door shut and slunk into bed, mind abuzz with a conflict of emotions. He had helped two people, one physically and the other emotionally, whilst also finally telling someone in New Haven his biggest secret. He felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders but also darkness descend. Connor was registered and a high-class variant, how did Felix know that he wasn’t constantly monitored and that his secret was now also known by the authorities? Connor may also just tell someone, right? Sure he was mature beyond his years but still a teenager. What if someone was hurt and he wanted to help and so spilt the beans…? He suddenly realised that Connor could probably also do some online research for a Variant with healing powers and eventually find photos of his teacher in his home state, apparently touched by God. Felix tossed and turned in worry but eventually sunk into a deep sleep only, waking for his morning alarm from a whole night of undisturbed slumber!

Sat at his desk he still couldn’t believe that he hadn’t awoken with his terrors last night. Was revealing his secret to someone all that needed to happen…? Starting to accept who he was? No come on - this wasn't a Disney movie... The rest of the Tuesday morning had passed in a bit of a blur: morning swim, coffee and bagel, morning lessons. The only difference from normal had been the awkward anti-Variant opinions being far more vocal around the school and in the staff lounge after the night’s events. He’d nonetheless given Connor a smile and nod as they’d passed in a corridor at recess.

But he still couldn’t wait to have a nice relaxed evening at home. Go the long way home and grab his favourite Greek takeout before cocooning himself with the new series of Grace & Frankie. He glanced at his classroom’s clock as the bell rang for afternoon classes. Just a couple more hours and he’d be able to put yesterday behind him and get back to normality. If not normality slightly more positive than before. He welcomed his next class in with a smile. “Afternoon guys. Your starter task is on the board, get started. Merits for the pair with the most answers!”

---

Dragging his pencil across a previously blank page in rapid succession, Connor was breathing life into the image he had started drawing soon after arriving at school. As per expectation, other students were far more wary of the teenaged Variant than before. Stares had intensified, and avoiding the ‘Monster’ was a commodity. Connor did not blame the other students, for their acts were founded in emotion, and a desire to exclude an obvious enemy, as far as their conviction went. A flow of tears which made itself known throughout the day indicated that more than one other attendant at Havenworth High had family in Midtown, blood relatives now either faded into memory, or struggling for their lives at the state hospital.

Moving his slender hand towards the burger in front of him, resting on the same tray Connor had seen every weekday, his sharp teeth dug into its shape with ease. Consistency was something often lost on the Variant, or little ‘Monster’ as he had christened himself. His inhuman teeth allowed for meat to offer little more resistance than bread. Admitting towards the displeasure of such was uncommon, but present. “Hey, freak!” A voice, loud and tentatively obnoxious trickled into Connor’s pointed ears, soon after he returned the burger to where it had previously sat.

It would be foolish to claim that this scene didn’t warrant attention from the rest of the school cafeteria, but as a pair of obsidian eyes rose to meet the angry gaze of Luke Hemmings, the resident school ‘bully’, Connor understood that this interaction had few varying outcomes.

”Yes, Luke?” The Variant returned, closing his sketchbook and slipped the leather-bound item into his shoulder bag. A continuation of his newest project would need to wait. That much had grown abundantly obvious.

“Remind me again why they let you in here?” Came a question that brought a clear question-mark to the Variant it had been aimed at. Connor had expected Luke to spout profanities, but nothing quite like this.

”What do you mean?” The ‘Monster’ asked in return, raising a thin, barely visible brow.

“Oh fuck you, Connor! You know exactly what I mean!” Luke shouted. There was pain in his voice, more so than anger. Pain, and hatred. Though Connor would admit that very few things affected him, this had proven to be one of those rare exceptions. He found himself clenching his teeth, those large, black eyes lowering to the wooden table where he was sitting. “They keep letting you freaks hang around humans, and when something happens, we’re the ones who get hurt!” It was a statement founded in regret, and misery. However, Luke was not completely wrong, though calling it ‘correct’ would have been an overstatement.

”I didn’t attack Midtown, Luke,” Connor frowned, his eyes moving to meet the saddened glare. It was making itself known that Connor appeared unsure, throughout the interaction, his thoughts set on what he had seen on that television screen. A myriad of people had died because one Variant decided to give in to madness.

“Does it fucking matter!?” Another loud exclamation made its way past Luke’s quivering lips. Never before had he appeared this vulnerable, and devastated. “What happens when you decide to go apeshit, huh? Are you going to kill us all!?”

”Wh-what? Come on, dude..,” Connor tried, stuttering in his statement. He had expected this, but he was far from prepared to face a scolding of this level.

“You can’t even say one fucking word without it sounding like you want to off us all,” Luke spat, pointing out the Variant’s ghostly voice. “Two of my cousins were killed in Midtown yesterday!” The revelation warranted tension now traveling through Connor’s frame. He had no counter to that. “How the fuck can we spend several hours here every day, knowing that if you decide to snap, we’re all dead!?”

It would be a lie to say that using his powers wasn’t intoxicating. Connor knew, better than anyone in that cafeteria, how utterly fantastic it felt to unleash his abilities. It was almost a drug, something which made him want more. It felt like breathing for the very first time. He could still recall it, the exhilaration flowing through him as Necrotic Force danced free. It was a horrifying thought, and giving in to madness was not as outrageously impossible as most Variants wanted to convince themselves of.

Without another word, Connor stood and started on a straight path out of the cafeteria. How could he convince anyone of his innocence when his very existence was the accusation? This wasn’t simply others judging him. He was being blamed for a massive atrocity, and it was only a matter of time before someone decided to take the next step.

The SRHRT sat around the conference table in the tactical operations center, Alpha Team on one side and Bravo on the other, waiting for Harkins to start the brief. The eight men sat casually in the room, some reclining back, some with their feet up on the table, to the perpetual consternation of Elaine Townsend, the Chief of Operations. However, she knew better than to set herself up to be insulted by complaining about the men’s lack of discipline. She eyed the Alpha Team leader covertly from the head of the table, concealing her gaze with a stack of papers she was pretending to organize.

Director Harkins came in before Elaine could indulge in any of the usual thoughts she had about the man. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ears and cleared her throat.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, we have a hostage situation on going in the Warehouse District,” he said indicating to the live feed on one of the big monitors in the back of the room. “The Chimera goon we nabbed awhile back finally coughed up some actionable intel on another one of their computer geeks, but as you can see he got tipped off somehow.”

The live feed showed New Haven PD surrounding the place already, setting up a perimeter. It was an older storage warehouse that had not yet been renovated, set against the edge of the river.

“All the necessary surveillance will be in place soon,” Elaine said avoiding speaking directly to Alpha One. She adjusted her thick round spectacles. “We will have to generate the map as we go. We didn’t have time to get a thorough recreation uploaded.”

“Alright,” the Bravo Team leader said standing up. “See you guys there.”

“One more thing,” Director Harkins said. “New tactical policy from FBI brass says we have to start taking field medics with us. Her name is Daphne Davenport. She will be waiting for you on site. Try not to break her. She’s on loan from civilian EMS. Don’t’ worry, she’s a graduate of the international school for tactical medicine. It’s this new thing, I don’t fucking know.” He threw his hands up helplessly.

“A chick Doc,” Michael said nudging Cameron with an elbow. Cameron shook his head with an exasperated smile.

“Alright, you know what to do,” the director said. He trusted his team enough not to micromanage their tactics.
As they all got up to leave, he added, “Oh, and don’t start firing off that fucking fifty-cal.” Everyone in the room chuckled at the director’s irritation.

“You got it,” Bravo Team leader said with a goofy salute, which did not instill any amount of confidence in the director whatsoever.



“Well, we’re in the shit now!” Cameron called to Sebastian from across the warehouse floor.

They had made contact with Chimera security as soon as they breached the building, and were now taking cover behind pallets of boxes near the stairs that would lead them to the administrative offices. Gun fire was ringing out everywhere as Richard and Michael flanked from the other side with the medic, Daphne Davenport.

Sebastian gestured at him by putting both hands around his neck, and Cameron understood. While Sebastian leaned out to provide cover fire, Cameron pulled a chemical smoke grenade off his vest and threw it as hard as he could up toward the second story walk way. It sailed through the air and smashed a window out of one of the offices. As the chemical smoke billowed out in dark yellow clouds, the two got to their feet and ran up the stairs, popping off shots as armed security came running out coughing their lungs up. The two veterans had become immune to the stuff and they swept through the complex of offices, which the TOC had not yet been able to get eyes inside of.

They found their HVT and his hostage in one of them. It was a girl. She was coughing so hard on the floor that she couldn’t move, and when the man saw them rush in he pointed his MP5 at her. Sebastian threw himself across the floor and scooped the girl into his arms as the man pulled trigger in desperation to not go down without doing some damage. The automatic weapon fired a long burst of nine-millimeter before Cameron emptied the rest of his magazine into the man, realizing that in doing so he had extinguished their next source of information.

He would answer for that later, though. Cameron rushed to Sebastian, who was already getting up.

“I’m good!” he said. He and Cameron ushered the girl out of the office and to the top of the stairs where the smoke was not as heavy.

“You have to run,” Sebastian told the girl through her screams. “Run down the stairs and out of the building. Go!” He knew that the New Haven PD would be waiting for her with open arms.

The girl complied, screaming when she wasn’t coughing.

A look of pure confusion had come across Sebastian’s face.

“Let’s go," Cameron said. “Hey, what’s the problem?”

Sebastian looked into his friend’s eyes, slumped against the wall, and collapsed to the floor. “Maybe I’m not good,” he groaned.

“Motherfucker,” Cameron gasped.



When the battle was finally over and the gunfire had ceased, Cameron pulled Sebastian across the warehouse floor by the handle on the back of his plate carrier with one hand, and held his friend’s HK416 in the other, desperately trying to get him back to his teammates and the medic that had accompanied them.

“Doc!” he screamed. “Doc, we got wounded!”

“Shit,” he heard Richard say from somewhere in the warehouse, and the man appeared from behind the crates that they had been using for cover.

Michael was right on his heels, both of them rushing to help Cameron move their injured leader. All three of them picked Sebastian up and took him back to where their medic had taken cover during the engagement.

“Oh my god,” she said when they put his still body down in front of her. She took her helmet off and pulled her brown hair back, then pressed her cheek and ear against his face and took one of his wrists in her fingers. Seconds later she was pressing them against his neck.

“He’s still breathing but no radial pulse. He’s bleeding out from somewhere. Help me get his gear off.”

The three worked quickly to disconnect and remove Sebastian’s helmet and to take off his plate carrier. The rear ballistic plate was shattered from absorbing multiple bullets. Daphne pulled the bandage scissors off her kit and cut Sebastian’s combat shirt down the middle, then pulled it away from his torso. There was a hole in his left flank with blood coming out of it.

“One went right under his fucking plate,” Richard said.

“Cam, you gotta call it up,” Michael told him. With Sebastian down, Cameron was the next ranking operator.

Cameron backed away from his friend slowly, watching Daphne pull medical supplies out of her vest pouches to begin working.

“Cam!” Michael shook him by the shoulder.

Cameron shoved him off. “I fucking heard you!” He took a deep breath and got on the headquarters frequency: “TOC, this is Alpha Romeo. Alpha One is down. I say again, Alpha One is down. Requesting MEDEVAC.”

Silence on the net, and then Elaine’s voice, shaky and strained: “I… Roger…”

“TOC, we need a fucking MEDEVAC, right now!” Cameron yelled over the net. “How copy!?”

“I got it, Alpha Romeo,” Elaine responded quietly. “EMS en route. ETA: 20 mikes.”

“We don’t have-!” Cameron started to respond, but he cut off his own transmission before he screamed at the girl unnecessarily; it wasn’t the TOC’s fault.

He stormed back over to Daphne, who had directed Michael to hold pressure on the gunshot wound, and was peeling a big square of plastic out of its wrapper, the aid bag she had been carrying open at her side.

“What’s going on, Doc?” he asked urgently. "Jesus, he was bitching at me to leave him alone just five minutes ago.” He looked anxiously at the pool of blood that had formed on the floor.

“His left lung is collapsed.” Daphne pushed Michael's hand away and placed the occlusive dressing over the hole. She handed him her roll of three-inch nylon tape and he began placing strips of it on all four sides of the dressing to keep it secure. Both of them carefully lifted Sebastian’s torso up. She checked for an exit wound and removed the remains of his shirt. There was not one and they carefully set him back down.

“Then drop a needle in his chest, already,” Cameron told her. “Your buddies are on the way.”

“It’s too late for that,” Daphne said donning a pair of latex gloves. Sebastian’s skin was cool and clammy and she could see his jugular veins beginning to distend from the pressure against his heart and trachea. “He’s bleeding internally. I have to put in a chest tube to drain it and give his lung some room to expand again.”

Daphne was already pulling out the necessary supplies as she explained the situation. She tossed Cameron an IV kit, normal saline with all the necessary needles and tubing. “Start that.”

As Cameron started fishing for IV access in Sebastian’s right arm, Daphne proceeded with the chest tube, talking herself through it in her head as she went.

Fifth intercostal, mid axillary. Posterior and lateral to the pectoralis. She wiped the area with chlorhexidine and placed the sterile sheet that came with the kit around the wound.

Now the lidocaine with epi. She injected the incision site liberally with a 25g needle and syringe, then pushed the needle between his ribs and into the pleural space. It filled with blood as she aspirated it and she knew she was in the right place.

Let’s go, Daphne. She cut a three-inch incision into Sebastian’s flank, put her scalpel down, and picked up her 9-inch Kelly clamp. She pushed it into the incision, between his ribs, until it popped through the parietal pleura and into the space filled with air and blood. She spread the clamp open in one direction, twisted it and opened it in the other direction, creating a big enough hole in his body for the tube to fit. She pulled the clamp out and stuck a gloved finger in the space, feeling and pulling to confirm without a doubt that she had the right location.

Nice and easy, girl. Daphne pulled the thick plastic chest tube out of its wrapper and began inserting it into the hole. She went in slowly until she saw condensation in the tube, indicating it was properly placed.

Shit.

“Hold this,” she told Michael.

He handed the bag of fluid to Richard and quickly stepped over to hold Sebastian’s chest tube. She nodded gratefully as she saw the saline successfully infusing into Sebastian’s arm. In a couple quick steps Daphne pulled the pieces of her portable suction drain out and assembled it, beating herself up inside that she hadn’t already prepared it, and then relieved Michael of the chest tube and connected it to the device.

Tie it up already! She pulled out some sutures and began approximating the edges of the incision site until they were snug against the tube. Another suture horizontally, then she tied it off in a surgeon’s knot.

“Let’s move, Doc,” Cameron urged.

“I’m done. Just need to dress it.” Daphne watched her drain. It was pulling out blood. She sighed heavily and dabbed away the sweat on her brow with a sleeve. His breathing was shallow and his carotid pulse was weaker than before, but he was still alive. She wrapped some petroleum gauze around the tube’s insertion site.

Antibiotics, now. No morphine or you’ll kill him. She opened a new needle, drew a syringe full of saline from the port on the IV bag, and injected it into a bottle of Levofloxacin powder. She quickly mixed it, pulled it back out with the syringe, and in injected it through the port and into the bag of saline.

The moments they waited for EMS to arrive seemed like an eternity. Sirens finally came screaming down the street and stopped in front of the warehouse. The team, carefully but quickly, carried their fallen leader to the ambulance and rode with him to New Haven General.



Stephanie Albright had just finished charting on her last patient when the head nurse, Claire, had asked if she would take another one that was incoming. It was a gunshot wound, one of many that they had seen in the last few days in the emergency room. Claire had told her that she already called the OR to get ready.

“Sure, why not?” She walked from behind the nurse’s station to start getting a bed ready. “Just another day at the office.”

New Haven General had been more of a trauma center in the last few days than anything. It was great experience but it was exhausting. Stephanie was working her fifth twelve hour shift of the week, and all she wanted to do was get home and into a bubble bath. But the doors to the ER drop off site swooshed open then, and Stephanie went to get the report.

When she saw the faces of the men escorting the gurney, Stephanie froze in her tracks and the deepest feeling of dread began to wash over her. She had met them a couple times before. They recognized her, and the look in their eyes told her all she needed to know.

“No!” she cried and tried to run toward the gurney as it wheeled into the ER. The girl with them was spitting out her report but Stephanie did not hear a word of it. Before she could reach the bed, one of the men intercepted her and held her back as she began to sob hysterically.

Her brother, Sebastian, was on that bed, and he was on the verge of death.

“You said you would take care of him!” she screamed as she pounded her fists against Cameron’s vest. “You said you would!”

There were no words for him to say that could possibly be enough. All he could do was wrap his arms around the girl to control her, gritting his teeth against the stinging in his eyes as his friend’s sister sobbed and cursed him for failing to protect her brother.

Claire came to see what all the commotion was about. She told Cameron to get Stephanie out of the ER, and he dragged her away screaming. The hours that past after that were the longest of their lives.



Cameron, Michael, and Richard sat with Stephanie Albright in the ER waiting room. She was crying on and off, but had calmed enough for them to tell her what had happened. Stephanie nodded through her tears as they told her what details they were authorized to disclose about their assignment. When there was nothing left to be said about it, silence reigned for many minutes.

Stephanie finally looked up at Cameron. “I’m sorry,” she said weakly. “I know it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have said all of those things.” She could see that the men were deeply grieving their leader in their own way.

“You’re fine,” Cameron told her gently. “He’s your brother.”

“And he’s a goddamn hero,” Richard added emphatically, and Michael clasped a hand on his shoulder in agreement.

A surgeon came out of the ER then and walked over to them. They all stood up in anticipation of the news. Stephanie was wringing her hands like a nervous wreck.

“We were able to stop the bleeding,” he said, and they all released a heavy sigh of relief. “Whoever put that chest tube in bought him just enough time.”

Daphne Davenport had been released back to the unit for a debrief. They made a mental note to buy her a beer or five after all of this was over.

“He’s in the ICU for now,” the surgeon told them. “But you guys can’t roll in there in there with all that hardware. Come see him tomorrow on the recovery ward.”

He smiled and shook all their hands, giving the nurse he had worked with many times before a hug before heading back through the ER doors.



The next morning, Daphne was awakened in the chair of the patient room on the surgical recovery floor that the staff had allowed her to wait in for her brother to get transferred from the ICU. Claire was standing over her, and she told her that Sebastian had arrived.

Stephanie jumped up and hurried to the room they had put her brother in. She stopped at the door for a moment to collect herself as she caught sight of the man in the hospital bed. But he wearily turned his head and looked right at her, and she rushed in to see him.

She hugged him and cried, so happy that he was still with her. His wincing was the only reason she let him go.

“A Little banged up, here,” he said. When she pulled away he looked into her teary emerald eyes. “I told you I’d come see you at work soon. Here I am.”

She laughed in spite of her tears. “I can’t stand you.”

In this rare moment Sebastian smiled. “So do I get to put on a shirt?” he asked looking at all of the wires and bandages on his bare torso.

Stephanie eyed her brother shyly. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I’m sure.”

It would be many hours before Stephanie left her brother to go home, happy that she would get to see him again the next day.

MAD Detainment Facility

October 25th, 2130, 11:20 AM

ES1-7 lay on the floor of its chamber, observing its surroundings and the people just outside its chamber. It was hungry, tired, and bored. It hissed whenever someone moved to close to the glass, jumping a scientist or two. Still, the fear wasn't enough to quell its hunger. 7 missed the destruction it had caused, and the fear it could engorge on. Fear was the only thing it could think about. Suddenly, A strange, tingling sensation took hold of 7. The first few seconds were odd, but the next, it was agony. 7 started going numb, its energy inside its body fluctuated on and off, on and off, on and off, until it dropped. It held onto its consciousness, long enough to faintly hear the door open, and scientists with Hazmat suits enter the room to collect samples. Finally, in one last attempt, 7 inched its way to the door, but was stopped by two guards with stun-sticks. Darkness filled 7's vision as it dropped into unconsciousness.
_______________

Log #002:
"This is Dr. James Calvano... Today I have some more study issues for ES1-7... It seems to be made up of two different matter forms. We call them: Dark essence, and Shadow matter. Dark essence seems to be some gas-like form that cannot interact with physical objects. It has major regeneration capabilities and the ability to store energy. Dark essence can hold electricity, or energy created from organisms bodies. Shadow matter is made up of similar compounds to Dark essence, but is different in form. It is a solid form that can interact with other solid matter, can store small amounts of energy, can store psychic energy, and disperse psychic energy. We can confirm that ES1-7 is a Metamorphic, Mentalist class Variant with a category 4 danger level. Recent studies have confirmed that ES1-7 is sentient, as it had responded to many things non-sentient beings could not have. Further studies are being prepared and level 2 experiments will start soon. Finally, I am going to be requesting an interview with ES1-7 later on today, in hopes of understanding ES1-7. This was a short log... Anyway, that's all for now... updates will be available later..."

*END OF LOG #002*
________________

October 25th, 2130, 4:00 PM

James sat at his desk inside his office working on study papers and research notes. He was absorbed in fascination, curiosity, and astonishment when he had first seen ES1-7. Now it seems like he is dedicating his life, studying the Variant. He pulled out his phone and dialed Bryan Drake's number...