Drs. Octavos Lightwood and Demetria Bane
Zandro Center, Summer Grove, Kalbion

Work days were either incredibly slow or, by some miracle, they went by fast. Today, the time didn't matter to Octavos because for once he and Demetria had been tasked with an important assignment. Dr. Ethan Sieben had personally handpicked and recruited both of them for his "special" team. Octavos demanded to know what was so special about doing laboratory errands, they picked up this, recorded that, cleaned this, etc. All things a child could do, not suited for two doctors that specialized in human physiology.

"Howdy partner," Octavos knew that distinct melancholy voice anywhere, his partner in crime, Demetria. He looked over his shoulder to see the women that usually wore stained lab jackets, frizzy hair, and smudged make up had transformed into something... fierce. "We're reporting to the eighth floor." Octavos couldn't help but stop in his tracks while his colleague kept moving forward.

"My, my, my sugar pie," Octavos whistled, a habit of his that he did whenever he saw something impressive.

"Cut the crap, Tav," Demetria responded harshly. Most people tended to use the person's full name whenever they were in trouble, but not Demetria. He hated that name, Tav, it made him sound snobbish like some kid who attended Summer Grove Academy, and she knew he felt this way.

They were located in the lobby of the Zandro Center or simply the Center, named after Ascal Zandro who was some person sometime that did something, all Octavos knew is that someone donated a lot of money for this building to be built and named that. The mysterious benefactor never revealed themself yet yearly would give money to make sure this building kept in top shape. To Octavos, it was funny that the public thought that this was an office building for one of the various well-known companies, little did they know it was much more than that. The amount of security detail inside and out should've spoiled that but somehow it didn't. Outside there were two burly security guards that liked nothing more then to glare down at those that passed them, trying to make anyone and everyone squirm under their discerning gaze and they, almost always, succeeded. Octavos had developed his own game with them, a wink there, a tongue movement here, a lingering touch, and soon they wouldn't even meet his eyes, their loss.

Erected around 500 AE, the entirely glass-paned building happened to be one of the largest, tallest, and oldest in Summer Grove. It would hurt most people's neck to look all the way up it if they were standing right in front of the entrance, Octavos should know, he had tried it on several occasions. Before it became the Zandro Center it was once home to the Envoy, the city's head elected official, and their family. All of the information pertaining to the Center interested Octavos very little, but there was a detailed plaque near the entrance with all of it on it. He read it enough times as he was being scanned in to completely memorize the entire paragraph his third week on the job. The money business wasn't on there but anyone who worked at the Center or knew anyone who worked there was familiar with that bit.

The semicircle lobby was absolutely stunning, it had a circular receptionist desk in the middle, and Rachel Givens was working today and Shelley Pilar was working the Check-In Desk that was toward the front of the lobby. Other decor included escalators whose railings were fish tanks, bloomed floral plants, tapestries, flags, paintings, and military guards (with weaponry) posted around the lobby. On the hour the tiled floor changed patterns, currently they were stepping on water, the sensors in the tiling were even so advanced that they were able to detect when they had be stepped on and responded accordingly as if the person had truly stepped on whatever the design had been. If, by chance, someone looked up they would see the Kalbionan shield on the ceiling. Usually, the lobby was active, but today it was clear, allowing for all sights to be seen. For any first timer it was probably breath taking, but Octavos had done this a thousand times and it had mostly lost its appeal, besides the fish tank escalators that would never dull.

"Are they all here?" Octavos asked, but was still greeted with an icy glare. Demetria truly did look splendid, her rich, natural beige skin tone complemented her choice of outfit, a mint green dipped hem sleeveless dress with a golden belt across the midriff and white flats. Her hair lacked its usual unruliness; somehow she had tamed it enough to put a few rows of braids into it. For once he couldn't even compare himself to her in his white lab coat, which allowed for his red shirt, white tie, and black pants to be visible. Never once had Octavos pursued the thought of Demetria as anything more than a friend and a colleague, okay, so that wasn't exactly true... "Either Dr. Brandt or Dr. Newville is acceptable!"

The duo had walked over to the set of elevators where Demetria pressed her thin, identification card against the specialized strip on the wall. The red doors of the elevators sprung open, allowing them to view its interior, which was the same as the lobby's floor, aquatic-themed, almost like they were traveling in a submarine. It only stayed like that for the lobby level then revert to its original design, white panels with sky blue stripes. Octavos pressed the four-digit combination and the elevator began to descend.

"Adrian Arroyo is going to be there, dude is a legend," Octavos stated excitedly, determined not to let Demetria's momentary state of anger dampen his mood.

"Sad, really, he lost his wife and daughter," Demetria said with a voice full of sympathy.

"I can call him daddy if that'll make him feel better," Octavos flashed one of his famous grins, notable for always getting Demetria to smile. She rolled her eyes, the eyeliner she had applied stood out all the more to Octavos, she was certainly going all out, but for whom? He continued on his tangent, "Check Ekil and Ryūko Katō! Man, this is going to be great."

"Look, I read the files, I know who's going to be here."

"There were files?"

A high-pitched bing signaled they had arrived and Demetria couldn't have exited the elevator faster if she tried. The meeting was being held in one of the lower offices but one wouldn't have known that from the view the window panels gave.

"Can they see us?" Octavos asked, frantically waving his hand to those that were seated inside.

"No," Demetria answered, and walked to the door. She stared at the medium-sized black panel that was positioned directly to the left of the door prior to opening it to reveal a keypad and a storage unit. Once they had used their elevator code the windows in the room the subjects were in were instantaneously programmed to show the hallway as empty. She entered a ten-number code, Octavos knew what that meant, and there was officially no going back from this moment.

He stared through the glass and monitored the reactions of each individual. Through the vents came the sedative Demetria had just activated, an anesthesia that was odorless and colorless. It was potent enough to cause all subjects to drift into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds of it being in the room. Some of them wore shocked expressions, perhaps mixed with anger? Certainly confusion. Others knew right away what was happening. Their various expressions were constantly shifting and were hard to read from Octavos' current position, which urged him to examine the subjects in a closer manner. He tugged the filtration mask upwards that Demetria had retrieved from inside of the black panel and pushed opened the door.

"Don't worry, we're friends," Octavos announced, his voice was muffled by his mask, though it wasn't as if their unconscious guests could hear him.

"Dr. Sieben repeatedly said we're not allowed to get emotionally close to the subjects," Demetria reminded him, having entered the room herself.

Octavos grabbed underneath the armpits of a young lady who had fallen to the floor, her floral dress was rather pretty yet he wasn't exactly sure who she was... Other than the name Ethan had given her. "Subject E-209 acquired." Demetria grabbed the woman's legs and helped him carry her out. One by one all subjects were removed from the room without a hassle. Both Demetria and himself verbally recorded their observations as they proceeded onto the next phase. Octavos wasn't sure if what they were doing was ethical...

​

Claire Mornet
Zandro Center, Summer Grove, Kalbion

Summer Grove most certainly had not changed since Claire had last been here, a year or so ago. It was and would always be the same city, the only advancements they had cared to make was to their infrastructure. Unlike most, Claire did not enjoy being in the capital city of their great country. Growing up in Southern Kalbion colored her perception of this city and not for the better. They were ignorant of the struggles the rest country faced, the places that didn't have a force field to protect them or have the ear of those in power. Even before the war, the inhabitants of Summer Grove weren't the friendliest, especially toward those from Southern Kalbion. A place known for its darker shades of complexion, lower socioeconomic status, and passionate personalities. Its location on the equator has virtually made the southern most region of Kalbion uninhabitable; extremely torrid weather has scorched its lands. There is little variation between the seasons when it comes to temperature, as it is high year-round. It is a desert filled with the bones of the naïve, those that mistakenly believed they could and would find a solution to a region marred by death and fire.

A little more to the north was where Claire's home resided, in Pocono, a small city unknown to most. Embarrassment swelled up inside of Claire whenever she spoke of where she hailed from, the judgment in their eyes was always easy enough to pick up on. She didn't blame anyone for their reaction, but she didn't expect them being so openly turned off by it. Claire shifted her thoughts away from her and toward the city she arrived in. No one in this part of the city ever walked anywhere, mainly due to the fact that there weren't any sidewalks, strictly roads. All she had to do was wait at the cab stop once she had entered the city; they were located inside almost every building. That's when she knew she was going to be late to the meeting, it was to be held in the Zandro Center in the 15th hour of Day Five of the Second Term and currently it was ten until the 15th hour. Thankfully, the cab service was easy to figure out, all she had to do was get into the passenger seat, type the address into the GPS, it then calculated her fare, Claire paid it, and she was on her way. Gone were drivers, the cabs moved by themselves, but that didn't mean the way of tipping was gone. It was more of a tax than a tip because it was mandatory, the doors refused to open until the person paid it.

Claire concentrated on the tall buildings outside, every so often there were flashing billboards, war propaganda graced the screens. The leaders of Onzor were mocked and shown as belligerent tyrants, a fact that she wouldn't argue with. Along with those were the ones that urged for the reelection of Alan Deaton, Summer Grove's envoy. Also known as the second highest-ranking non-military elected official whose power and responsibility were directly tied to the wellness, maintenance, and protection of Summer Grove. The cab stopped outside of an enormous building whose glass-paned windows reflected the clouds above. Not many inside the city's walls knew this but the force field or as it's more appropriately called, The Dome, allowed for them to showcase whatever view they wanted and control the weather inside of Summer Grove. There were many cumulous clouds in the sky along with a nice breeze yet Claire knew for certain that wasn't what the sky looked like if one were to take a step outside of the city. Apparently, constantly nice weather and temperature kept the people at ease and allowed for Envoy Deaton to have a benign rule - at least that's what Claire's friend had told her.

Her thumb pressed firmly against the pad that was located underneath the word tip, in big bold letters. With her fingerprint the machine would be allowed transient access to her bank account, it was also programmed to do it through a voice command or eye recognition. A green light flickered on and Claire grasped the car-door handle and stepped out onto pavement below. The step turned more into a leap as that was one of the unfortunate downsides of having cars that floated, its technology had not been perfected yet to know how far off the ground it should be. Claire was just thankful she wasn't one of those girls that wore heels; her combat boots were favorite article of clothing. Two guards who seemed to be almost twice her height blocked the entrance, both of them had shaven heads and wore the standard Kalbion Army uniform, one had a complexion that matched her own but the other's was more of a light mahogany tone.

Their fearsome gaze caused an uncomfortable Claire to immediately shift her eyes to the floor. She bent over slightly and fished something out of her right boot, the letter said to show the guards at the door the invitation. An endless amount of wrinkles and creases had happened to the letter, which Claire did her best to smooth out prior to handing it to the guard on the right. His eyes landed on the invite for a few seconds - she could tell he was scanning the invite for something by the way his eyes jumped around - then he returned the letter back to Claire and waved her through the automatic doors. A narrow hallway greeted her, the two walls lacked the glass-panes that covered the outside instead it had only slate gray tiles that included on the floor as well. There was an absence of lights that made it feel more like a tunnel than a hallway, Claire carried on toward the only source of light where she saw some sort of desk. The hallway opened up into a semicircle, in the middle of the room was what Claire thought was the welcome desk.

"Excuse me! Ms. Mornet," Claire snapped her to the right where the shrill voice was coming from. An unknown lady with a perky disposition in a frilly blouse and skirt waved eagerly to her. "Everyone always skips me! I told them they shouldn't place me here," her voice full disappointment, a frown appeared on the lady's face as she slouched forward in her chair to indicate her brief moment of sadness but then popped back to life and pointed up to a sign that said "Check-In". It was a dumb design to place the Check-in desk immediately to the right after the hallway opened up and have another, bigger circular desk area in view.

It didn't take long for Claire to correct her path and head towards the lady whose name tag read "Shelley Pilar, I bet you missed me!" Shelley flashed Claire a bright smile she was… gorgeous. Claire grew envious of her sun kissed olive skin and long hair, full of dark curls. She wore a soft shade of pink lipstick that definitely brought her lips attention, and they deserved it, much more so than simply looking at them. "...filed for them to have me moved over the lobby clerks four times! Can you believe that? I swear if they don't respond I'm calling my cousin, she'll know what to do!" Claire smiled and nodded as if she had been paying attention to the entire conversation. Shelley used a lot of movement when she spoke and that only drew Claire's focus to certain… aspects of her that were bouncing right along with her.

"Anyway, you're all scanned in," Shelley's fingers typed viciously on a touch screen keyboard. A spinning, fully colored 3D model of Claire popped up on the desk. "Unfortunately, I need you to relinquish that screwdriver in your left boot, jewelry, and show me that invitation!" She fiercely rubbed her hands together and then held them out with a big grin on her face. Claire surrendered her screwdriver and unclasped her bracelets and gently set them in Shelley's palms. She pushed forward the envelope that she had set down earlier.

"You're late, little missy! All the others already checked in and boy, were they lovely! Especially that Ulric fellow." Shelley turned around to the wall of lockers and pressed her finger to one of the lower ones and slid all of Claire's items into it, including the letter. Right above where the lockers began was a metal plaque, it had the words "Zandro Center" in a large font, along with an older picture of the building accompanying by a paragraph from what Claire looked over it told the history of the building. When her focus was back on Shelley she was holding out a card and a slip of paper, on it was a four-digit code, her nails - which were fake - had a wide array of polka dots on them. "Elevator's right over there," Shelley extended her arm, pointing it diagonally, "press this identification card against the black strip and then when you're inside enter these four numbers in reverse order and bam, you'll be going to the right place. There's only one room down there so…! Have fun, Claire!" Shelley shoved the small, rectangular piece of paper toward Claire and a plastic name tag, which was fully capable of being clipped onto her shirt, and waved once she had taken it.

Halfway to the elevator Claire realized she had completely forgotten to question how Shelley knew her name and what she meant by scanned in. It didn't take long for the entire mystery to unravel, those tiles in the hallway weren't for decor, no, they were the scanner and a walk through that hallway would result in her shedding some sort of DNA, which resulted in them getting a full-profile of her. That was quite the security procedure at least it was harmless. She looked over the ID card Shelley had given her; it had her name, picture, and rank on it (whatever "SLA" meant.) Shelley's instructions were straightforward and in no time at all Claire was stepping off the elevator. The left side was a wall of windows, Claire looked out of them and to her surprise she was looking down at the city. An oddity considering that she entered the building at ground level and the elevator had taken her down not up. These windows must be programmed with the same technology as The Dome, Claire looked over to her shoulder and noticed the same wall of windows except for these actually looked into the all-glass room.

Several people sat in chairs around a long, rectangular table, which meant that they could see her staring out of the windows like a child. Again, embarrassment trickled in, and Claire found herself rushing to the door and opening it. She kept her head down, hoping to avoid any and all looks that would certainly be cast her way, and took the nearest seat possible. A few seconds passed then Claire lifted her gaze to get a better look at everyone who was here. They all looked like they deserved to be here. Claire looked down at herself in her vividly colored floral dress and combat boots, she on the other hand did not.

Her thumbs rubbed together as she looked up once more and saw another female in a room dominated by men, was that Ryūko Katō? She was a fellow engineer, a better one at that… Claire started blinking several times; she couldn't feel anything and her eyes started involuntarily shutting. It didn't take long before Claire and glass floor became acquainted. The same thing was happening to the others, what was…

* * *

Claire's eyes opened and she brought her head up from the table, had she fallen asleep? She was in the same room… Everyone else was awake. No, no, no! There was no way she could've fallen asleep! Memories of blurry figures, slurred speech, and flashes of lights came to Claire all at once. Whatever happened Claire might have thoroughly embarrassed herself in front of her peers. Movement from outside of the windows caught her eye, a vehicle had stopped a few meters from the window in a deserted parking lot. Roads, parking lots… Summer Grove didn't have those. In fact, the entire landscape was different, there were plenty of skyscrapers, and people were driving vehicles that Claire had never seen, they looked superior to the ones she had seen all her life. The city was full of life, Claire caught a flag waving, the whole thing was wrong… It had golden lines that made an O on a gray background… that… that was Onzor's flag. That explained why this city basically looked like an evolved version of Summer Grove.

Crap. They were in Onzor! How was that possible? Claire shook her head and looked back at the large vehicle that had stopped, a man in an Onzor colored uniform unloaded a small girl and an older lady with graying blonde hair, a mother and a daughter Claire assumed. They were both dressed in striped clothing, white and blue, Kalbion's colors. The child was sobbing and the mother held the girl close to her while the soldier shouted at them both, she could tell from his body language and gestures that he was very vexed with the small girl. That's when Claire noticed the acronym on the side of the vehicle, POW, Prisoners of War. What happened next caused Claire to jump up from where she sat. The soldier pulled up his arm and in his hand held a standard-issued military gun, he kept jabbing the gun toward the girl as he yelled.

Every ounce of her being was screaming at Claire, she had to do something. Her chair went flying backwards as she went forward, her hands grasped on the door handle and swung it open. She didn't know where she was going but at this point that was the last thing on her mind. She ran down the hallway toward a set of double doors, which she thought was where the elevator was located. The doors led outside, the weather was nothing like Summer Grove, it was chilly and the wind was picking up causing her dress to flap as she ran. Claire made a sharp turn left and dashed up the street. Two loud bangs led Claire to push herself harder until she arrived on the scene, the mother and little girl both laid on the ground and the vehicle was taking off down the road. Everything was happening so fast, next thing Claire knew she found herself kneeling next to the older lady who was struggling to breath and get to the girl.

"My… daughter…" Claire looked at the body of dark-haired girl, her lifeless eyes fixed on the skies above, and in response Claire vigorously shook her head unable to speak. A substantial amount of blood was pooling underneath her small, fragile body not to mention the bullet hole on her forehead that had also started trickling blood. The fingers of the lady continued to move, bruised and bloodied, yet she didn't care about her own wound, no, her eyes zero in on the little girl's hand. In order to give the women some sort of peace Claire aided her by placing her hand on top of her child's hand. "Fort… Fort Rancor." She said faintly, her blue eyes fluttered shut; she was either dead or unconscious.

"Help!" Claire cried out every few seconds, pressing her hand onto the woman's chest wound like she had been taught. Tears blurred her vision and her throat felt like it was closing in on her. She gasped for breath, over and over again, why was no one doing anything?


​

Dr Bishop Newville
Summer Grove, Kalbion

Only this morning Summer Grove had been a marking on the horizon; a shimmering semi-circular stain on the tapestry of the sky. But now as he approached the fortified exterior of the city it seemed to loom menacingly overhead. After spending his latest years moving from border city to border city, he had expected the city to have changed since he left Medical School all those years ago. Much to his demise though, the city seemed to retain the same interior and exterior as he knew it to have. Since he was a child, Bishop had grown up in the safety of the outer suburbs of Summer Grove, attending School and later University there. Unlike most, both his parents were alive back then, but after he had left for University they both signed back up to the military and were subsequently killed in combat. It only added fuel to the roaring fire inside of him and at the first opportunity that came his way he boarded a truck with several of his classmates to border towns where they began heal all whom they could.

As he pulled up to the checkpoint, Bishop killed the engine, straddling his early model Kalbionan Motors motorcycle between his legs. The checkpoints were a tedious procedure; first he had to pass his ID card to a stiff-backed guard with shaven head and full military outfit. Next he was ordered to place one hand on a biometric pad which felt strange as his hand became immersed in the viscous liquid. The biometric pad used an electron-based slime which scanned his fingerprints and took skin-cell samples to confirm that he was who he said he was right down to his DNA. The slime was similar in use to a medical version he used to treat superficial wounds and acted as a skin substitute until the patient's body had time to heal. Following this came retinal identification, which by now seemed completely redundant, before his ID card was handed back to him and the gate arm slid up to allow him passage into the city. Saluting to the guards, he started up his motorcycle and replaced his helmet, enjoying the rumbling sound of the motor that roared in his ears.

He was about to take off when a guard placed a hand on his shoulder, "Excuse me sir," he asked politely as Bishop again killed the engine and took his helmet off.

"What can I do for ya?" Bishop asked, his leg quivering nervously against the side of his bike.

"Rubber-based wheels are strictly prohibited within the city; there is a taxi stand to the left through the gate where you can find transport into the heart of the city." The man's face barely moved from the blank expression as he gave the directions to Bishop.

"Oh, my bad, it's been a while since I've lived in the city," Bishop smiled widely at the man before pushing a button near the centre of his handlebars. Immediately the motorcycle roared into life, but not in the same way it had before. Rather than a deep throbbing, the motorcycle began emitting a deep hum as the secondary motor took over. Both wheels turned ninety degrees to the side, lifting the motorcycle up off the ground to hover just as the rest of the vehicles within the city did. "Is this better, sir?"

"You may proceed." The guard spoke, but his words were lost as Bishop took off through the gate.

Having a motorcycle meant that Bishop could travel more freely around the city than most people. If there was one thing he could count the driverless taxi's on, it was the fact that they were so predictable. The AI always maintained specific distances between each other, with controlled speed they could do no more than the city limit and being so predictable meant that he could weave between traffic as long as he calculated his distances right. He had never been a big fan of the driverless cars in the first place; not just the maintaining of control but also the thrill and exhilaration of driving made him feel even more alive in a place so full of death. More than once he had been in close calls and accidents that could have been much worse than they had ended up in, but that still didn't deter him. His motorcycle was like his child and he took great care of her; even though he knew little about her dual engines which looked nothing like the inner workings of the human body he was so familiar with.

His first port of call; Argent Mechanics. Pulling into the garage, Bishop sidled up to the pair of feet sticking out from under a propped up car, revving the engine before killing it outright. He heard a brief cry of pain following the sound of two objects colliding before the feet wheeled out from underneath the car to reveal the rest of the body. Only slightly taller than Bishop, the boyish face of Daniel Argent, was done little justice by the oil and black dust that covered the guy's olive-skin and overalls. His heart skipped a beat as flashes of memories raced through Bishop's mind and he couldn't stop his hands shaking as he removed his helmet.

"Back from saving the world I see?" Daniel asked in his gravelly voice as he leaned his arms on Bishop's handle bars.

"Only briefly. Still fixing old junk I see?" Bishop retorted, too leaning on his handle bars his face only inches from Daniel's.

Daniel only looked slightly offended, "This old junk pays the bills. Oh and it also fixed this old rustbucket," knocking lightly on the fuel tank sitting between them, "Surely you're not back to reignite an old flame?"

Biting his lip, Bishop felt a little ashamed to be asking such a big favour, "I'll be in town for a couple of days, was wondering if I could crash here…" he heart seemed to freeze and his voice caught in his throat as he waited for Daniel's reply.

"Oooh, I don't know about that," he was stalling, Daniel knew Bishop knew he was going to say yes but it had been a while since he had last seen the guy and enjoyed playing with his emotions among other things. "Could you be persuaded to stay maybe a little long?"

"We'll see when I get back," Bishop winked at the other guy, pulling himself off of the bike and placing his helmet to hang off of the handlebars. It had been a while since he was last here but he still knew his way around the garage and flat upstairs. "I'm going to grab a shower," he began making a beeline for the stairs.

"Want me to join?" Daniel called after him, laughing.

"No thanks, I don't want to be late. But if you could give her a check-up, I would be very grateful!"


After having been on the road so long, Bishop had missed a decent shower and Daniel's water was much warmer and the pressure greater than what they had back in the border towns. He wanted to savour the moment as much as he could, feeling the heat and pressure wash over his body, but he was a stickler for being early and would hate to be late to such an important meeting. Stepping out of the shower, he quickly dried himself before pulling out and placing on the clothes from his bag. For such an important meeting he had decided on black dress pants, a blue and white checkered shirt with thin black tie reaching down from his neck to a simple stainless steel belt buckle. Slipping into black dress shoes, Bishop also slipped on a clean, white lab coat to make him feel a lot more comfortable but also as a subtle hint to the other doctors in the room.

"Wow, you look impeccable! Going on a date?" Daniel commented as Bishop stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed.

"You stay away from me, I don't want any of that grease and oil on my only clean lab coat!" Bishop tried to keep at least a meter between the two of them. "And no, I've got a conference at the Zandro Centre to attend to. Hopefully, I'll get to meet Doctor Brandt…" Bishop almost swooned at the name.

"Who is Doctor… Brandt," Daniel mocked Bishop, over exaggeratingly swooning.

"The mastermind behind the discovery to a cure for the N-2 Toxin the Onzorian army uses; made my life a lot easier." From what he remembered the Toxin had swept over an entire city and all they could do was treat the conditions rather than the Toxin; that was until Doctor Brandt came up with a cure.

With a small kiss on the cheek goodbye, Bishop left Daniel to his own devices and headed out to catch a Taxi to the Zandro Center. He would have preferred to walk but the Zandro Center was near to the centre of the city and would have made him late if he were to walk the entire way. As the Taxi sped along the street he opted not to watch the all too familiar buildings whip past but rather to twiddle his thumbs in anticipation. When it came to large scale meetings or crowds of people, Bishop wasn't all too happy about the situation feeling a little bit claustrophobic in such situations. The importance of the matter however did make him a lot more nervous; to be in a room of such esteemed people made him feel grossly outclassed and under skilled. Paying the Taxi as it pulled up outside the large glass tower, Bishop practically jumped out of the hovering Taxi, brushing his clothes flat and preceded towards the door.

Two hulking guards initially blocked his passage into the building; their shaved heads and crisp uniforms only increasing the fear they had already instilled in Bishop. Reaching into the inside pocket of his lab coat, he retrieved the letter that had come to him days ago; looking as pristine as the day he had received it. The man he handed it to scanned the letter whilst the other continued to glare at him like he hoped Bishop would do something wrong. Bishop felt increasingly uncomfortable before the man handed him back his letter and the two stood aside to let him through the sliding doors to which he almost hurried through.

Bishop had to stop and marvel at the scene around him; as long as he had lived in the city he had never stepped as little as a foot inside this imposing building. Below him the tiles reacted to his presence, scanning him as Bishop stood and stared at the plants, tapestries, flags, painting which adorned the walls. Even inside there were military personnel stationed around the place and it wasn't until a sweet voice to his right caught his attention that he began to move.

"Doctor Newville! Over here please!" The shrill voice beckoned him over to a Check-In desk located just inside the doors. She seemed perky and Bishop figured she dressed much like her personality. "Hi, I'm Shelley Pilar, and my, don't you look dashing today!" She smiled happily at him, "Please hand me your watch and wallet, I will keep them secure behind my desk." She motioned to the set of lockers adorning the wall behind her.

Bishop felt awkward enough, keeping silent while he handed his watch and wallet to her, wondering just how she knew he had those two items on him. As he handed her the items she traded him a piece of paper and a card, pointing over to the elevators, "press the identification card against the black strip then when you're inside enter the four digits in reverse order and bam, you'll be going to the right place!"

After thanking the lady, he made his way over to the elevator, following her quite clear instructions by holding the card against the black strip then entering the numbers in reverse order. Almost immediately the doors closed and he felt the familiar lurch as the elevator went into gear. He marvelled at the fish that swum in the handrails of the elevator as it pressed upwards, almost caught off guard and forgetting to disembark when it opened up into a hallway with a single door leading to a glass room. Being the first inside, he took the opportunity to sit in the chair across the table which was the furthest from the door. It wasn't long before more people trickled into the room, among them the famous Doctor Brandt, and Bishop was feeling conflicting giddiness of excitement and also great nervousness. He was about to get up and move to talk with the famous Doctor when his vision began swimming and he fell back into his chair, unconscious.


When he finally came to, Bishop felt like a truck had hit him. He recalled falling asleep but he hadn't even been tired and, by the way his muscles felt heavy and his vision swam, he deducted that he had been drugged with an airborne anaesthesia. Scratch that, they all had! As he pushed himself up in his chair he could see the others beginning to stir as well, why had they brought them all here only to drug them? It just didn't feel right. He tried to recall anything but the sedatives had been enough that any instances of coming to consciousness during the procedure had been wiped clean from his memory. As he pushed himself out of the seat, Bishop tried focussing on the scene around them, but his vision kept being drawn outside. Outside where there were roads with cars and… people in the cars? Rubbing his eyes he noticed a parking lot only a few meters away and couldn't recall any memory of Summer Grove having parking lots. Outside looked like a complete 180 degrees from what Summer Grove was like, there were even people walking down the streets! What topped it off was the flag fluttering in the distance… a flag he had seen too many times.

Fear gripped Bishops heart as he struggled to breath. Only moments ago they had been in the centre of Summer Grove and now they had been magically transported to Onzor? His breaths came in sharp as he struggled to regain control of his body and mind. Being a Doctor Bishop had tried to avoid coming into contact with the enemy and right now he was in the belly of the beast. He wanted to throw up right now, crawl into a foetal position and start crying, he couldn't help feeling left for dead.

"Help!" The cries came out every second snapping Bishop out of his mental breakdown. When he looked around he realised one of the others had burst out of the door and was leaning over a figure, blood splattered over her dress. Immediately Bishop's mind kicked into gear; he couldn't handle the situation right now be he could handle a medical emergency.

Stumbling out of the door as feeling returned to his legs, the first figure Bishop came across was that of a small girl. The blood had receded from her face and her eyes stared up blankly at the sky which no longer shone like Kalbion's. He noticed no breathing and when he brought his fingers to her jugular he could feel no pulse beneath the rapidly cooling skin. Looking up he could see the girl the cries had come from and immediately moved over to her. She stood narby a lady whom shared many similar facial features to that of the girl lying just out of arms reach.

"Move out of the way," he ordered to one of the guys from the room whom had decided to take charge, "I'm the uh… I'm a medic!" He sounded unsure of himself but he wasn't concerned with trying to communicate with other people right at this moment; he just wanted to do his job. Rolling his eyes he tried to rip the jacket off of the lady that the man had stupidly wrapped around her but instead the man picked her up to and took her into the room. Obviously he wasn't a medic otherwise he wouldn't have made such a rookie mistake to make Bishop's job harder. Moving back into the room he scolded the man, "Why would you move her when she's in such a fragile state? She could have had a spinal injury! Move out of my way and stop trying to be a hero because all you're doing is impeding her recover!"

The lady's ragged breath told him that she was barely holding on, the blood from her body stemmed by the stupidity of the man's jacket as he had tried to 'rescue' her. Feeling underneath the ladies back, he felt no exit wound and knew that the bullet was still lodged in her chest. Regardless of the lady's privacy, he pulled off the jacket, tossing it to the ground before ripping open her top, moving her hands so he could get a closer look at the wound. It wasn't too deep, but it wasn't shallow either and without any tools he doubted the woman would make it. Taking two deep breaths, he did the only thing he could think of; without anything nearby he could make makeshift tweezers out of, he plunged two fingers into the bullet wound. He tried to minimize damage as he pushed his fingers in further, searching for the bullet. He was used to having at least a pair of rubber gloves between himself and his patients but feeling her insides against his own skin made him uneasy.

Pulling his fingers out, Bishop sighed in despair as he wasn't able to find the bullet. Either it was too deep in her chest or it had moved. With his free hand around her neck, he could feel her pulse slowly begin to fade and hear her breathing coming in more ragged. He wasn't one to let emotions get a hold of him; he was going to stay calm while he figured out how to fix her. Looking around in his immediate vicinity he tried to spy something that could help him but there was nothing but the desk and chairs. Looking up at the girl who had reacted first he made sure to lock eye contact so that she would know he was talking to her and would hear his instructions.

"Find something that we can use as tweezers, one of the others might be able to help." He was about to suggest she find a hospital but he doubted any medical professional would help a bunch of Kalbionan. Balling up fabric from the lady's shirt, he held firm pressure against her chest wound to stem the flow of blood. Either they were somehow going to take out the bullet and close the wound or she was going to bleed out.
​

Ulric Dalca
Zandro Center, Summer Grove, Kalbion

He hadn't been the first to arrive in the meeting room nor had he been last. By the time he was there a few others had already been seated, so it was noted that he should do the same. After going through the trouble of being escorted to Summer Grove by aircraft, finding a taxi to the Zandro Center, and then being pushed along the tedious customs; he had all but forgotten his lack of sleep. With his signature slouch, he made his way to a empty seat facing the window panels. The sight was far better than the world outside of Summer Grove, but it was just as confusing as it was stunning. He wanted to wrap his head around the reason the officials would want to veil their citizens' eyes but at the moment his mind wasn't capable of such procedures.

Slowly, Ulric raised his head from his hands. It was unanimous, he was dead ass tired and it wasn't like he could go to sleep anytime soon. His icy blue eyes were sluggish as they scanned the all-glass room. Around him sat ordinary people, probably soldiers like himself or other military officials. A few of them he recognized, others not so much. He knew from reports and seeing their name numerous times, of the engineers and scientists. They were by far the most renowned around the rectangular table, which irritated the trooper just a tinge. He was placing his life on the line, watching his comrades keel over and die occasionally; and the ones that were protected by laboratories were the famed ones. What a sad and unfair world they all lived in...

Letting out a shallow sigh, he decided that he should probably, at the very least, attempt to look intrigued by this roll call. Although still relaxed, Ulric found his back against the chair he had been sitting in, his hand lethargically rubbing his bare jawline. This was his attempt at seeming more or less more professional. It didn't help that he had dressed himself for comfort and not military instruction. Probably should have now that he thought about it. He figured that a dark t-shirt coupled with a red flannel, dark denim jeans, and a pair of dark boots would do the job. However, he was possibly the most foolhardy for having thought that. Admittedly though a part of him figured he should have dressed in uniform; it was just that a larger part of him preferred the former.

Out the corner of his eye, he spotted a woman gazing into the room. Her remarkably emotionless expression was soon painted with embarrassment as she became the center of attention. With quick, almost cautious steps she made her way inside and took a seat. Ulric let a smirk play on his handsome features, he wouldn't have expected that a woman of color would be present at today's meeting; it was a pleasant surprise. He watched her rub her thumbs together than begin to feel his drowsiness return with force. Fighting to keep his eyes open, he witnessed three other patrons inside fall unconscious. Som-something isn't... right here... He looked at the palm of his hands, hearing with a faint echo the sound of a head banging against the glass floor. Then with reluctance, he too fell unconscious.


Faint words had begun to invade his weird dream. The bright light had become some form of sunlight and the clamor of steel medical tools had become loud rumblings. His eyes flickered to life with him laying on his stomach. "What happened?" He groaned quietly, feeling the echoes of a headache thumping in the back of his head. Looking around he spotted the others in similar positions, all of them sprawled out or just getting their bearings. Which was exactly what he needed to do himself. He stumbled onto his feet and rubbed the back of his head. Whatever had happened had caused some form of memory loss, cause he couldn't remember anything regarding how he'd gotten into the room.

Dark strands of hair fell into his sights as he stared out the window, their unruly nature partially blocking the controlled shock filling his eyes. Outside, right outside the building was the flag of their enemy; the flag of Onzor. Impossible! Their was no way he had been transported into Onzor territory, at least their shouldn't had been. He clenched his fist out of anger as the pieces of a dark puzzle started to float into existence. "Damn," He growled, his feet carrying him towards the window. All he really wanted to do was figure out why, but it seemed fate had other plans. Just as he felt his aggravation had reached its peak, he had spotted the grisly scene that had provoked one of them to blitz out the room.

He didn't follow her, his mind had been wired for caution, not for reckless acts or heroics. He watched another that charged after her and couldn't help thinking that they were endangering them a bit. He bit his lip, gluing his feet to the floor; he wouldn't do the same. Resilience against all odds That included the oddity of this situation.


Pushing the tresses resting over his forehead into his hair, Ulric laid his head against one of the walls of the room, watching them from the corner of his eyes work on a possibly-dead woman. He could only see her as a possible hindrance in his ultimate goal of returning to Kablion. Not to mention she had witnessed her own kin shot in the head, he doubted she even wanted to live at that point. It was less than human to take tha choice from her.

Everyone seemed busy with their own thoughts, busy with either not caring or trying to save that woman's life. But what about getting back home, what about Kalbion? Was no one giving thought to the danger they were all in. If that flag was any indication of where they were than it meant they were in enemy territory. Out of a bad habit, Ulric started to nibble on the nail of his thumb. None of it had made sense, he had felt like the pieces were all together but the picture was far from complete.

Finally, he pushed it all to the back of his mind. He had too much to account for, too many variables that he wanted to get out alive with him. And right now they were all in that one room. He positioned himself off from the rest of them earlier, now he was leaning off of the wall, his arms folded against his chest. "That truck was a POW truck." He revealed to everyone calmly. "Who do you think the prisoners are here?"
​

Adrian Arroyo
Summer Grove, Kalbion

It was early. If Adrian were to guess by the deep, dark blue sky under Summer Grove's Dome, it probably around the 4th hour. He wouldn't have been able to tell exactly how early it was outside the Dome, especially down south in the scorching sun. The sun set for so little and rose so quickly that even the earliest hours were bright and burning. This meant that he had hardly gotten much sleep, maybe a few hours at most, which was fine with him. These last few years, all sleep would do was bring him pain. He would dream, and in his dreams he would hear the sounds of his young daughter's laughter. He would see her smiling at him with her two buck teeth and her pretty bright blue eyes. He would watch her play and dance and giggle and even cry. He would see his wife too. Hear her calming, soothing voice call out his name. He would feel himself run his fingers across her cheek, her soft radiant olive skin. He would smell her sun-kissed blonde hair.

And then he would wake up, and they were all just ghosts of his past.

Adrian rose himself from the hotel bed and scrambled onto his feet. He took a few steps forward, then dropped to the ground in front of his bed and began doing push-ups. A few seconds into them, he started humming one of his favorite songs in between breaths, which made each time going up a bit harder. It also helped to occupy his mind whenever he had too much time to think to himself. The more he was occupied, the less he had to think about, which worked out better for him. After his morning exercise, Adrian flipped on the television, which was no longer any solid object but a hologram projected by a device attached to the ground. Adrian controlled the settings like changing the channel or raising or lowering the volume with his voice. Simultaneously, he also sat at a small kitchen table and cleaned out his sniper rifle.

His sniper rifle was state of the art, even as far as the Special Forces go. Everyone at KSF was given an advanced selection as to their weapons specifics, but Adrian paid out of pocket to add many additional adjustments and modifications. The weapon supports up to a dozen different weaponized levels, from the old-world classic steel bullets to advanced, atomized ionic pulse generators, to heat-based reduction technology, which fires condensed heat projectiles packed together in smaller spaces with little oxygen, and which expand upon firing from the weapon. This allows for much more ammunition to be carried around in smaller packs. Beyond its weapon modifications, it's also highly flexible in its modifications, allowing for a wide array of applications, as well as being extremely durable to most weather conditions and damage. It was his favorite possession. He carried this weapon onto the battlefield and didn't need another. Having cleaned it the night before, Adrian did some touching up this morning, so his focus was able to be split between the TV and the gun.

"Next," He switched channels every few seconds. He was expecting to find something in terms of the news, but as he suspected, news about the war weren't highly publicized anymore within Summer Grove. The vast majority of people understood that they were losing. Some perhaps didn't realize by how much, but everyone was aware that things weren't going well. He suspected the Envoy of the city purposefully didn't give out all the information to keep up morale and to give his citizens a false sense of safety. The funny thing was, from his time spent here, he actually believed it was working. He saw many faces that didn't have the dampened spirits he witnessed on the outside. Many were, dare he say it, happy. That kind of ignorance had its advantages, but Adrian had the feeling if things progressed as they were, a lot of people were going to get a huge wake-up call.

Adrian placed down his weapon, satisfied with the clean-up job he had done. He continued to watch some more random TV programs while he ate breakfast. He stayed on one channel for a while, where a popular program in Summer Grove was playing. The premise was about a secret society that lived in the contemporary world. The secret society of special monsters, which included blood-sucking fiends and hairy beast-like creatures, were being pursued by another group of humans known as...well Adrian couldn't rightly recall their names. But they were apparently tasked with finding the monsters as well as specific items they carried. The plot was somewhat interesting, but he eventually moved on to other channels. After finishing his food, he glanced over to the digital watch along the wall. All this time, and it was barely passed the fifth hour. This was going to be another long day.

Adrian arrived early to the Zandro Center. Going in, he expected to get briefed for another covert operation with possible other Special Forces involved. The first indication that that wasn't the case was when none of the other soldiers he was familiar with had any similar instructions. Sure, it was entirely possible that he would be working with another group, perhaps ones with a specific set of skills. Yet still, that didn't seem like the case. The second indication was the center itself. Adrian wasn't sure, but he thought that the Zandro Center was for some company, not the military. Though third parties have hosted and helped in missions before, he didn't expect this to be a similar case. It looked like there was more to this than originally met the eye. Adrian was curious.

However. his mind was strangely put a bit more at ease when he was Kalbonian military, not private security, as the guards to the center. It could possibly be that this simply was just another mission, and that perhaps it was more top grade security just to make sure no leaks were made. Adrian nodded to the two men, deciding not to give a salute as he was not in uniform. "Serviceman Arroyo, Adrian, reporting as instructed." The two men stared somewhat menacingly at the man as he announced himself. The one closest to him took the letter, and looked over it. Once he was satisfied with its contents, he gave him back the letter. The guard looked him over quickly once more. The letter never stated to wear in uniform, so Adrian came a bit more casually, though respectfully. He had a buttoned up black short-sleeved shirt and a pair of black trousers. He still wore comfortable shoes, just in case. It had become an old habit of his. Suddenly, the guard returned ushered him in, and Adrian walked inside.

The inside was impressive, if one had an eye for that sort of thing. Adrian himself never much cared for architecture or design. Perhaps as a younger man, he would have been more appreciative of it, but not as he was now. He was ushered in, being as polite and friendly as he could with the receptionist, Shelley Pilar. After receiving his instructions from her, he removed any items she had identified was on his person, somewhat interestingly Adrian might add, and ushered him into the elevator. As per her instructions, he slid the card against the black strip and punched in the numbers in the reverse order. The elevator reacted, and took him to his destination. On the inside was a table where he supposed he was expected to sit. He arrived early, so he was among the first, another being a doctor of some kind. Adrian gave him a polite nod and sat on the other side of the table. Adrian hated being without any company nowadays. It gave him too much time to think and wander. Thankfully, the doctor gave him something to concentrate on besides himself while others started coming in soon after. Adrian would greet each one with a smile and a nod of the head, but decided not to speak to them until they were all present. By the time the apparent last one was there, however, something started to happen. He felt himself become dizzy, as if he were extremely tired. Adrian looked around, seeing the others have similar reactions. One by one, they all began to fall over. He tried to pound his fist on the desk a few times, perhaps to get some adrenaline pumping into his system, but it was no use. He felt himself slipping. His eyelids were heavy, and soon they closed.

And the ghosts of his past came rushing back.

---

Adrian woke up by the sounds of other voices around him. He was lying on his stomach on the floor, his eyes slowly opening. At first he only saw blurs and heard muffled sounds, but as he continued to blink and listen, the voices became more and more clear, and his surroundings became more and more apparent. He slowly pushed himself off the cold ground with a groan, and stood up. The first thing he noticed was that the same people he had been surrounded by at the center were here. However, as he looked around, and outside, he noticed that they clearly were not in the same area. A quick scan around revealed that much. However, once he saw the Onzorian flag, he shook his head in disbelief. He turned around, and rubbing either side of his temples with his thumb and index finger. He tried to tell himself this was all just a dream.

The more he thought about it, though, the more it couldn't have been. The details were too vivid. The sights were far too clear. His pain was real, the throbbing in his head indicating that he indeed was awake. So what didn't make sense was why these random group of strangers, some of which Adrian knew by name or face as decorated individuals, were all randomly dropped into Onzorian territory without any orders. Yet clearly, there was something for them to be done here. He knew this for sure. Kalbion was spread way too thin for them to just abandon lives, not when they could be useful.

The sounds of cries for help suddenly propelled Adrian back into the current state of things. He didn't think twice, and ran outside. Maybe this was what they were supposed to be doing anyways. They had to be here for a reason, and apparent PoWs from Kalbion might just be it. By the time he reached the source of the shouting, Adrian wished he hadn't. His stomach churned and his legs began to shake beneath him. His throat became as dry as his days in the tortuous deserts of Kalbion. His head became light and dizziness soon followed. In his mind, he felt a multitude of emotions he had kept bottled up suddenly rise to the surface and looking to explode at any minute. Yet perhaps over the sight of seeing the woman and young girl lying in a pool of blood on the streets, he was in too much shock for them to immediately show. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, or perhaps scream or cry. Yet when he tried, nothing came out. He was paralyzed, and only stared silently at the young girl as his mother. He did nothing as another man came over and carried the woman away.

When the man asked the other woman present to pick up the girl, however, Adrian motioned for her to stop. "I'll do it, you can head back," He told the woman without his eyes leaving the body of the dead little girl. When they left, Adrian dropped to his knees and approached the girl. He watched her eyes, her eyes which stared lifeless into the sky above. He shook his head again, feeling the tears begin to well up in his eyes. He used his two fingers to close her eyes shut, then he placed one hand behind her tiny head, and another around her back, and lifted her up. Instead of carrying her back, however, he placed her head along the side of his, resting on his shoulder, and hugged her small lifeless form compassionately. He rocked her back and forth there on the ground, the blood from her forehead now covering the side of Adrian's face, but he didn't care. He felt the dampness of her blood and his own tears and held her all the same.

He had never gotten a chance to say good-bye to his own young Olivia. They never found bodies of his loved ones. There were only empty caskets. For a long time that really stabbed at his heart, the chance to never hold them and say his farewells. Now seeing this young girl's cold, stiff body in his arms, he was almost thankful he hadn't.

Adrian eventually carried the girl back into the room with the others. He gently placed her body along a table in the back of the room, careful with her head as he did so, almost as if he believed she was still alive. He then slowly tore himself away from her and back to the others. He tried to slowly wipe any tears from his eyes, but as he brought his hand across his cheeks, he found they would probably be covered either way by the blood of the girl across his face. Using his palms and the back of his hands, he tried to wipe off what he could and spread it across his dark pants, before entering back in the conversation.

He quickly understood the current situation, and all of his attention was on watching the doctor 'operate' on the woman. He felt dismay and sadness when the doctor brought his hand back from within wound of the woman without any bullets. He brought his arms to the back of his head, beginning to pace worriedly back and forth. When the doctor asked for any sort of supplies that could be used as a tweezer, Adrian searched on his person for any such tool, but recalled that anything that might have been useful was taken off of him at the center. He instantly began scurrying across the room they were in, checking through everything and anything he could to try and locate something that could help. Anything. The more and more fruitless his searches were becoming, the more anxious he was becoming. Eventually he was literally tossing through various objects, before kicking a nearby box at his lack of producing anything that would help. He breathed heavily, clutching at the sides of his head with his eyes vexed on the woman in critical condition.

He tried to think about what could be done, but without any supplies or a weapon, stranded in the middle of nowhere, things looked bleak, and were getting worse. Adrian wanted to ask the doctor how much time she had left, but he feared knowing the answer. When the first man who carried in the lady spoke again, Adrian's eyes darted angrily at him. "She places our lives in danger?!" He repeated what the man said. Adrian stormed up to him, on the verge of smashing his face in, though for the moment he restrained himself. "What about her life?! We're not letting her die." He declared firmly, looking around at the others in the room. "Look, I have no idea what's going on, or what we're doing here, or how we got here. But I don't think we're here to go hide!"

Adrian's thoughts suddenly returned to what the other man, the one with the longer hair, stated. It was interesting that the PoW camp was carrying a woman and a child. If that was the case, however, there may likely have been more prisoners of the same kind: women and children. That was a terrifying prospect for him, but it was something he couldn't ignore anymore now that the thought penetrated his mind. He knew suggesting what he was thinking would probably not sit well with the others, but he was far too emotional to care. "The other PoWs. We can't just leave them here. Not like this. There could be supplies there too. For her."

​

Ryūko Katō
Summer Grove, Kalbion

"My hands are cold. Are your hands cold?" Joan stared at her fingernails, then twisted her hand to stare at her palms. "Look, my fingernails are purple! Can we turn down the AC?" She thrust her hands into Ryūko's face, who pulled them back down with a long groan.

"You can do that from your side." Ryūko frowned, waving a hand towards the controls on the door side of the taxi. There were all kinds of buttons; change direction, change temperature. Heck, even change the windows outside if Summer Grove's streets were too boring for you. "It's not even that cold."

"Maybe I've got a fever," Joan said, finding her own controls and turning the temperature up.

"You'd be sweating, J." The warmth in the taxi seemed to change immediately. "And people don't get sick like that much anymore."

"Oh. Maybe I've got some rare disease nobody's discovered yet."

"Because your hands are cold?"

"Yeah."

The taxi ride between Ryūko's flat and the Zandro Centre wasn't a long one. In fact, Ryūko had specifically bought a place somewhere inside the capital so that she was closer to everything, including work. The barracks workshop where Ryūko did her thing wasn't that far out from the city and she very much enjoyed city life. She didn't enjoy the remarks she'd receive out and about -- either sexual or racial -- but Ryūko could enjoy getting lost in a crowd.

"I've got a good feeling about this though." Joan smiled beside her, breaking the short silence that Ryūko was enjoying. "I can feel it. I think this is gonna be a really good opportunity for you."

"I don't even know what it is yet." Ryūko turned to stare out the window. The light from the dome seemed to illuminate everything so perfectly. "All I know is that me and a bunch of other people have been called in."

"When have my feelings ever been wrong?" Joan swooned for a moment. "I read the invite. Adrian Arroyo? Dr. Brandt? Some of these people are the best in their field! Do you know Claire... Morn...et? Isn't she an engineer?" Joan took her time with the last name, mispronouncing it.

"Mornet." Ryūko corrected her. "And yeah. I think I saw her once at a symposium. I think she had hair then." Ryūko focused on the memory for a moment, trying to connect it to the picture she'd searched up online last night. She turned back to Joan, who wiggled her eyebrows in reply. "Saw her once."

"You can't fool me, Ryūko. I know when you've got a thing for the ladies." Joan let out a loud laugh.

"The only lady I've got eyes for is you, J." Ryūko joined in with the laugh, though hardly as loud. Joan shook her head, wiping the small tears out of her eyes.

"Get real, honey. I saw you looking at-- Oh!" She pointed a finger past Ryūko's head, to something outside the window. "We're almost there!" Ryūko followed Joan's finger, the Zandro Centre now towering over them menacingly.

The taxi made a noise, alerting them of their arrival and prompted for its usual "tipping" fee. Ryūko paid up then stepped out of the car, almost toppling out, but saved by her boots. Joan on the other hand, fell flat on her face. With a laugh, Ryūko helped her friend to her feet.

"You could have wore something a little less grubby." Joan rubbed her nose and with her other hand, gestured to Ryūko's overalls. The cleanest she had, but probably not the best attire for a special meeting. Ryūko had to agree, but she didn't have anything else that didn't want to make her throw up.

"It doesn't matter. It's not like there's anything they're going to want to see." She had worn the shorts-style overalls, cutting off just before her knees. She had chosen a long sleeve shirt to go underneath, as well as her boots to complete her 'image'. Her hair was up in a beanie today and her gloves had migrated from her hands, tucking into the front pocket of her overalls. Her locket was unseen, hidden underneath her shirt, but her left leg was not, the silver metal a harsh contrast to her scraped and band-aided skin on the other side. She had been given the option of 'colouring' her leg to suit her skin more, but Ryūko had decided against it. It reminded her of stupidity and sometimes bravery of other soldiers.

"C'mon, you'll be late if we take anymore time walking in." Joan pushed Ryūko up the path, the doors in view, as well as the scary security guards blocking it. Joan was the first to greet them. "Hello officers!" They stared at her in reply, making Joan a little nervous. "Uhh... having a good day today?"

"I think they want this." Ryūko pulled out the invitation from her pocket, handing it over. With a nod, they let her through, but stopped Joan. "Hey, what gives?"

"No guests." One of them said, his tone gravelly and monotonous. Ryūko was about to complain before Joan stopped her with an apologetic smile.

"It's okay, it's fine! I'll see you when you get out, okay? Ring me when you're done. I'll take you out for dinner. Even if it's bad news!"

"Alright." Ryūko shook her head and smiled, waving as she entered the doors. "Bye J."

"Bye!"

With an enthusiastic shout from the receptionist and a point in the right direction, Ryūko found her way into the conference room, nodding at those already inside and taking a seat. She wasn't the first to arrive, nor was she the last, crossing off the names of her mental list of attendees as they came inside. The last to fill the room was the one she recognised as as Ms. Claire Mornet, carefully watching the fellow engineer take her seat. She had sit somewhat close to Ryūko and the thought of conversation crossed Ryūko's mind. She was never able to open her mouth however, as she began to feel groggy and sleepy awful fast. She stood up and was about to question her sleeping habits before everything went dark and Ryūko's legs buckled underneath her and everything went black.


After Ryūko woke up, everything seemed to happen so fast. Her mind was a blur, but as foggy as it was, her ears stung as she heard the plea of a woman nearby. She wobbled to her feet, along with a few others who were with the room with her, feeling for the direction which the shout came from. Her sight began to return and the room she was in was… different. It hadn't quite sunk in yet that Ryūko had been gassed, but the first thing her mind was trying to do was tie her to a location, but that was the thing -- Ryūko hadn't seen this room before. Memories started to come into gripping range and she slowly laid out the facts in front of her.

Went to centre in Summer Grove. Went to meeting. Sat with room full of colleagues. Talked about… no they didn't talk. Nothing had happened between them. She had fallen asleep, that was right! She remembered her legs buckling as the darkness took over, but now where had she awoken? This certainly wasn't the same room. Had they been… moved?

Ryūko finally made her way outside and blinked as the gloomy light harassed her eyes. She focused, catching sight of something flicking about in the distance. Was that… a Onzorian flag? She blinked, looking around. No, she was not in Summer Grove anymore. None of this was familiar.

"How long was I…" she started, talking to herself before her brain completely unfuzzed, the situation around her now alarmingly in view. The woman! The girl! Blood? What was Mornet doing?

"We should bring them in." A larger man said, an obvious Solider-like man. Ryūko didn't know his name, but frowned and then shook her head as the man began to bring the lady inside.

"What the hell do you think you're you doing? Do you want her to bleed out?!" Ryūko said, her voice in obvious contempt. What's done was done though, and she and her now late daughter (or who Ryūko assumed to be), carried by the one Ryūko recognised as Arroyo.

"Why would you move her when she's in such a fragile state? She could have had a spinal injury! Move out of my way and stop trying to be a hero because all you're doing is impeding her recover!" Newville began to try to help the poor woman, and Ryūko couldn't help but agree with him.

"Idiotic." Ryūko almost spat at the Soldier-man. She had only had the most basic of first-aid courses but even she knew that moving the body caused pain, pain caused an increased heart rate which would only make the blood flow faster. "Where did you get your first aid training from, soldier? A coroner?"

"That truck was a POW truck." Another Solider-like man said, a lot younger than his stupider counterpart. "Who do you think the prisoners are here?"

"The prisoners may not matter much at the moment. We probably should focus more on finding some kind of hide-out, something abandoned or low-key." What a heartless d*ck! And Ryūko was about to speak her mind before he continued. "The woman can not be moved soon."

"You're the one that moved her!" Ryūko gestured to the woman, her face pulled into one of disgust.

"Then she places all of our lives in danger. Doctor, if there is any way for us to move her, then we should. If there are any scouts, then they should probably look around the city for food, shelter, maybe weapons. No, we should definitely go in pairs or groups."

"You assh*le!" Ryūko blurted out.

"She places our lives in danger?! What about her life?! We're not letting her die. Look, I have no idea what's going on, or what we're doing here, or how we got here. But I don't think we're here to go hide! The other PoWs. We can't just leave them here. Not like this. There could be supplies there too. For her."

"What kind of soldier are you, only looking out for yourself? I'd hate to be your private. Would you abandon me too if I got shot?" She continued to look disgusted as she thrust a hand into her beanie, pulling out one of the bobby pins which held her hair together. She gave it a quick bend and handed it to Newville. "Here. This might help her." She turned back to the older Soldier. "I don't care who she is, she doesn't have to die because it's an inconvenience to you. Assh*le."
​

Dr. Avery Lee Brandt
Zandro Center, Summer Grove, Kalbion

Wine. Wine was good.

Of course, it was only good if you had it. Having had hours of time to get ready for this meeting, he had drank his fill of the red wine and later decided to move on to a heavier spirit. Luckily for him, Avery has a high tolerance. Nonetheless, he still had a meeting to attend and decided to not to go heavy on the liquor. If anything, two or three shots of his preferred drink would probably give him enough of a buzz to get him through what was expected to be your typical, boring meeting. Saving his final shot for later, Avery went about his business and began to get ready.

Having already taken a shower earlier in the day, he chose to focus on other preparations. Switching his casual clothes out for something more formal, Avery found himself dressed in an almost pure black outfit that consisted of his black dress pants, black button up, and his red tie. Moving from his room to the bath, the man quickly brushed his teeth before moving back into the main room. Upon noticing the time, Avery poured and chugged his final shot for the day to come and proceeded to put on a pair of loafers. Hesitating only to decide on whether or not he should bring his lab coat. With a small exhale, he put on the first one he saw. Taking the time to look into the mirror for a moment, he smirked and left the apartment.

Deciding to use one of the city's driverless taxis, Avery made his way through the apartment building's expansive garage and ignored his slick, red Sonic Centurion. It was very much unlike the city's taxis, it had been built for looks and speed. Safety... Maybe not so much. Exiting the garage, the man hailed a taxi, selected his destination, and paid for the trip. Avery put his mind at ease, choosing to use the short amount of travel time to think. All around him, cars were buzzing by slowly while the Dome gave the city a fake and happy atmosphere. Part of him had no idea if many of them had ever left the force field's walls. The fact that this city managed to stay so ignorant amazed him. Maybe he was lucky for having been on the battlefield (albeit after the battling had finished) in order to gather samples of the enemy's toxins or agents used.

The man let out a simple sigh upon arrival and paid the taxi's "tip", or in other words, "taxi tax" as it was often referred to. It was a small price to pay to keep the taxis up and running, but it didn't stop the doctor from thinking kidnap whenever the door wouldn't open.

The Zandro Center was massive to say the least. Some people would've also said the same thing about the two Kalbionan soldiers stationed at the building entrance. The same fearsome gaze seemed to come from the both of them. Avery couldn't help but think they were only there for the intimidation. Sure, they were trained soldiers, but did they have to have such a muscular build? Nonetheless, they were a mere obstacle for Avery. Pulling out one of the many invitations that had been sent out, Avery presented to the man with the darker complexion. After a swift glance over, the letter was once again in his possession and the door to the building now open.

The inside of the Center was just as amazing as that of the exterior. Although not one for architecture, Avery still couldn't help but see the fine details and angles that shaped the room. If you were to pay attention to the many decorations,fishtanks, or even what appeared to be a welcome desk, the room couldn't be more attractive. That's the power of being privately funded, Brandt thought. Now if only I could see the labs...

"Excuse me!" A shrill voice exclaimed, interjecting Avery's thoughts. "Dr. Brandt, if you could come over here please!" Turning on the spot, Avery noticed the woman behind the small desk. With her frilly outfit, good looks, and seemingly perky temperament, he was surprised he missed her. "Shelley Pilar, at your service!"

Having already moved closer towards the woman's desk, Avery has easily spotted the name tag reading "Shelley Pilar, I bet you missed me!" Avery held back a laugh. Why have this desk when there was a perfectly acceptable one in the middle of the room? It definitely made sense. "Dr. Avery Brandt," he said to the woman, holding out his hand. "I have to say, I didn't expect such a pretty face so soon."

"I didn't realize there were mirrors around here," Shelley grinned, a pleasant sight indeed. Her brown eyes lingered on Avery for a moment before turning back to the screen in front of her. She was a pretty fast typer, the way her fingers glided across the keyboard was surprisingly an intriguing sight.

"Only those dazzling eyes of yours," he told her with a smile as she went about her business. Part of him didn't want to look away from her smooth, olive-toned skin. "Why do they have you cooped up over here towards the side? I would think they'd want the Center's main attraction in the center."

"The same reason why they don't have a statue of you, way too distracting," Shelley said without looking up, her typing ceased and her focus shifted to Avery, well a 3D hologram form of him. "Unfortunately, I need to strip you of your wallet, watch, and of course that pesky shirt!" She set her elbows on the desk, put her head in the palms of her hands, and batted her eyelashes as if she was waiting for Avery to perform the task, especially the last one.

"But alas," the man began as he pulled off his watch, "I have a meeting to attend. I'm not sure if some of these fellows would appreciate me being late, even if it was for someone like you." If she was trying to catch his attention on purpose, she knew what she was doing. Her long, dark hair and amazing lips seemed to do the job by themselves. Complying with most of her demands, Avery handed over the few items he had on hand. "Is there anything else you need from me? If not now, then later?"

"I guess to get the answer to that you'll just have to come back and see little ole me," Shelley smirked before gathering up his belongings and placing them in one of the many lockers behind her. It didn't take long for her to have a piece of plastic and a slip of paper in her hand after getting back to the computer. "Use this identification card on the black strip to get on the elevator and press these numbers in reverse order and off you go!" She slid the contents she had mentioned over the desk and purposely left her fingers on them so Avery would have to brush them in order to get the necessary items. "Don't have too much fun without me."

Avery flashed her a smile, taking the items from the woman. "I wouldn't worry about that." Excusing himself from her presense, Dr. Brandt made his way towards the elevator and followed Shelley's instructions. Quickly finding himself in a long hallway, he made his way , the single, glass room where many of those expected to be there were either sitting or standing. For the most part, many of them were avoiding conversation and although Avery would've loved to start something, he knew business was about to go underway. Waiting in silence for what he thought was the last to show up, the man began naming each person present... Or at least he attempted to before he saw nothing.


When Avery awoke, he quickly realized that they weren't in Summer Grove anymore. The revving of an engine had awoken him from his slumber and although he attempted to fall back asleep, the two loud bangs forced him awake and off the floor. At first, he had no idea where he was or what he had been doing. It only took a few glances out the window for him to realize what exactly the situation was. The city looked far more advanced than Summer Grove and an Onzorian flag was easily seen in the distance.

Just outside, several of the invited Kalbionans were carrying in and for a moment, Avery believed them to be others from their group. Upon realizing the bodies were that of a mother and child, he was hardly put at ease. If that's what Onzor did to some of their POWs, Avery couldn't bear imagine what they did to those who they kept. The others' reactions somehow did less than that. One of the men had opted to leave the bodies there, one of which being a dying, but barely living woman, while another only seemed to stand around. The rest of the group seemed to be more focused on the matter at hand, saving the woman.

The doctor, whom Avery assumed was Bishop Newville, was busy trying to operate. Adrian Arroyo made it a point to make sure that they saved the girl. Ryūko Katō scolded the first man, Check Ekil, almost the entire time. The other engineer, Claire, was looking from Ryūko to her bloody hands and back again. She had attempted to help the two outside, to no avail. Avery felt sorry for her. It was obvious that they didn't want anyone else to die. Avery couldn't help but agree with them.

"We need to calm down for a moment," he told the group. Part of him was happy he was level headed, while another worried that was a bad thing. "We need to find out what we're doing here and fighting amongst ourselves won't help that." He couldn't help but look at the busty mechanic. As far as he could tell, she was the most aggressive one here. "However, we can't just leave this woman to die either. She is our priority." In his mind, Avery laughed at himself. Here he was, a scientist attempting to lead a group of soldiers and engineers.

"Bishop," he said to the blond man, calling him by his first name as a sign of trust. "Is there anything any of us can do to help? I'm sure the hairpin will help with removing the bullet, but what else do you need?"

"I need..." Bishop took a large gulp, "I need a needle and something close to surgical suture or-or skin replacement gel." He knew that the woman was beyond saving but he refused to accept the inevitable. If in life he could not heal her, then in death he would fix her.

Avery nodded at the medic. The look in the man's eyes were not that of one who would succeed. "Do you think any of you could help me look for that?" From as far as he could tell, Adrian and Claire seemed like they would be the only people willing to help while Newville and Katō focused on the woman. What in the hell were they going to do?

​

Dr Bishop Newville
???, Onzor

Bishop tried not to focus on all the yelling and shouting that had erupted in the room. It seemed like it wasn't just himself that was upset over the Soldier guy's mishandling of his patient. His hands trembled as he continued to hold pressure on the seeping wound; he couldn't deal with all these wild emotions floating around, hell, he couldn't even handle his own emotions at the present time. All his focus became diverted on keeping this woman alive and when the Onzorian-looking woman handed him the hairpin, he felt a shred of hope flood his system.

"I need..." Bishop took a large gulp, "I need a needle and something close to surgical suture or-or skin replacement gel." He knew that the woman was beyond saving but he refused to accept the inevitable. If in life he could not heal her, then in death he would fix her.

Taking the hairpin, he immediately bent it around so that the crooked part was facing inwards and would act as a rudimentary pair of tweezers. He knew the bullet was in too deep for his fingers to reach it and the hairpin wouldn't reach that far either, so he plunged his fingers in deep with the hairpin and carefully used it to feel for the bullet. His heart thumped within his chest as every second he wasted searching for the bullet was another second the life drained out from this woman. It almost skipped a beat when he felt the metallic click of the hairpin on the butt of the bullet. Carefully he manoeuvred the hairpin around so that each end was on the side of the bullet before gently applying pressure and grasping the bullet.

"Sh*t!" He swore as the bullet slid free from the grasp of the hairpin as he pulled it back through the entry path. His right hand was now visibly shaking as his two fingers rested on the woman's throat keeping a tab on her rapidly deteriorating pulse.

Making sure to take in deep breaths, he collected his nerves before trying to secure the bullet a second time. Then a third. Finally a fourth. What felt like a weight dropped in Bishop's stomach as he fought the urge to double over and begin vomiting followed by a sudden wave of coolness wash over him. The fingers on his right hand no longer felt a pulse and he immediately withdrew the other; scrambling around her neck for any sign of a pulse. He swore consecutively before placing one hand over top her heart then intertwining the other over top of the first.

'Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation: compression of the chest cavity in order to manually preserve brain function until further measures are taken to restore spontaneous blood circulation and breathing in a person who is in cardiac arrest."

That's what his medical textbook had explained the last resort attempt at preserving the woman's life Bishop had fallen to. She was going to die; if not from the bullet wound then most definitely by exsanguination. He had been fighting a losing war from the beginning but was determined not to give up until he had exhausted any and all possible treatments. After thirty compressions on her chest he held her nose closed, lifted up her chin and exhaled twice into her mouth. Again and again he repeated the process with no change in state. With each failed attempt he grew short of breath and his arms began to shake considerably as his drive was quickly dwindling. Still he continued to press on, driving force down his arms and breathing into the woman's lungs despite her lack of response and his arms now weakened.

She was all that he had keeping him going in this unforgiving situation.

"I'm calling it," He announced to no one in particular yet loud enough for the whole room to hear. Looking to the sky he deducted the time, not even sure if it was right at all, "Single GSW to the chest. Time of death…" he halted at the final sentence, "17th hour of the day." His voice sombre and full of sorrow.

The moment the words left his lips the dam Bishop had built up burst apart and emotions flooded his entire system. "I should have saved her, I should have saved her," he began chanting to himself over and over again like some sort of mantra. It slowly grew louder and louder until he ended up shouting it and abruptly stopping with a slam of his closed fist on the table. He began pacing, small steps at first as he ran his hands through his hair; the sandy-blonde now running with streaks of red. The sadness, the anger, the devastation, all the emotions were broiling up inside him as he struggled to contain himself as the impossibility of the situation washed over him.

"I should have saved her!" He yelled again, kicking the nearest chair into one of the windows causing a small crack to appear. As he ran his fingers through his hair he began clenching clumps of it wanting to pull it from his skull before retiring his palms to his temples and squeezing. All he wanted to do was yell and scream and hit things; the later causing him to send a punch flying into the window resulting in his knuckles beginning to bleed.

Laying his forehead against the window, tears began to well up in his eyes before cascading down his cheeks. Normally he wasn't one to get emotional at the passing of a patient, but that was in an ER where he had tools at his disposal; where he had a high success rate. Out here in the middle of Onzor without anything and he was absolutely useless. He felt completely out of his depth out here without any of his medical equipment. If one of the group were to get shot how would he heal them? How could he fix any one of them up without the proper tools of his trade? Leaning his shoulder into the glass wall he fell against the window and slid down to the floor to huddle into a foetal position propped up against the wall. His hands were still shaking as he slowly rocked back and forth, mumbling and muttering incoherent words beneath his breath. He'd lost his cool; his calm state of mind gone like the hours he had spent knocked out.

Having exerted all his energy on failing to save the woman followed by the fit of rage; Bishop had nothing left in his reserves to keep him going and thus let go. He let go of all the pain and emotion that had just overtaken his system, let go of punishing himself for not being able to do something sooner about the woman's death and let go of trying to hold it together. He couldn't handle the situation right now and slowly, Bishop withdrew into himself. All he could handle right now was to sit there propped up against the wall and stare off into oblivion.
​

Claire Mornet
Somewhere in Onzor

All of Claire's senses had began to dull at once, paralysis spread to every inch of her body forcing her to stay put, it wasn't as if she minded. The world moved on without her, everything seemed like it had been put on fast forward while Claire physically remained on pause. Mentally? She rewound the situation over and over inside of her head to analyze each second she could recall. Soldier. Gun. Run. Bang. Soldier. Gun. Run. Bang. She searched endlessly for that split moment where she made the wrong decision, had her running been too slow? Why did she wear this dress? Why hadn't she left the room sooner? There had to be some instant where she could've and should've done more. Eventually two men came to aid Claire, even though she had hardly noticed their presence at all, and whisked the woman away from her grasp. Their mouths opened and shut but the words they formed fell on deaf ears. Her eyes remained transfixed on the small child who had became another child that would never have a future, never live another day, never laugh, never cry, and most importantly never make their parent's heart whole again. Her body laid there limp in a pool of her own blood, another victim of this tragic war. When would it end? When was the slaughter of innocent children going to be over?

Somewhere deep inside of her Claire must have pressed play because she removed herself from the gravel ignoring the stinging sensation that came from her legs. The rocks and pavement had cut into her skin yet Claire cared very little about her situation as that was nothing compared to a bullet. Her breathing had became swallow, she had gone from trying to stockpile all the air she could into her lungs to barely allowing any to come in. If she had rushed out there thirty, no, ten seconds earlier she could've stopped this, she could've done something. It all happened so fast and now all Claire could do had been done.

"I'll do it, you can head back," The voice was so soft that Claire thought she imagined it.

That was until she felt the presence of another and turned her head ever so slightly to see a tall, bearded man who stood next to her. His eyes were cast onto the young girl the way same as hers were only seconds ago. She hadn't the faintest clue what he was talking about. Do what? She stood there with her hands gripping the material of her dress. Claire took one step backwards followed by a few more to distance herself from the scene, perhaps it was best to head inside like the man suggested. The second Claire's back was to the gruesome scene she whirled around; she couldn't leave that girl there even if the man was there to keep her company. She owed her more respect than to allow her to stay on that pavement for one second longer. With all the grace and gentleness in the world Claire watched as the man picked up the small girl as if she was his own child who had simply fallen asleep. The way he rocked her convinced Claire that this was not his first time holding a child but the tender expression he wore on his face told a much more heart-wrenching tale. In order to give the man a tidbit of privacy Claire carried herself forward, she could not fathom losing a child.

It wasn't long before Claire found herself back where it had all started; a dour tone had fallen over the room. The ones that were awake all had front row seats to what happened outside of those windows. Claire had made sure to wiped all emotion from her face to keep the same neutral expression like what had just occurred didn't phase her in the least. She had also tried to wipe the tears from her face but the only outcome of that was mixing tears with blood. Nearly everyone's focus was primarily held on the man that had his fingers plunged deep into the woman's chest. It took Claire a little while but she soon recognized him as one of the men that were outside with her earlier. He must be some sort of medic if he was attempting to pull a bullet out of a woman's chest with merely his fingers. It wasn't hard to see that he was having trouble - the blood that oozed from the wound spoke volumes - without supplies Claire assumed it would be nearly impossible. The man looked her dead in the eyes, she saw the desperation in them and felt the need to soothe it. He gave her a task, "Find something that we can use as tweezers, one of the others might be able to help." Wait, why her?

Before there was a chance to mull over that thought a voice spoke up, another one of the guys that went outside, when he stopped talking several of the others voices rose up in retaliation. Claire had been enamored by the flow of conversation that she had momentarily forgot what the doctor had asked of her. Emotions in the room were at an all time high, with a mother and her dead child lying on the table that was all the justification that was needed. Hell, Claire had an abundant amount of feelings that she couldn't even begin to process, this whole ordeal was affecting them all in different ways. Her mind found its way back to the task she had been delivered, find something to use as tweezers. Unfortunately, all of Claire's jewelry had been taken away by Shelley and she hadn't wore anything else... Wait, her boots had buckles on them! In a split second none other than Ryūko Katō took her status of being needed away. Uselessness was bound to be her only noticeable trait at this point. After all, with an engineer like Ryūko Katō around Claire wasn't exactly necessary, Ryūko was the engineer they deserved. She couldn't even bring herself to look at the blonde-haired man that had originally made the request, Claire had failed him and she had failed his patient multiple times now. She stared at her hands, blood was smeared across her palms and was caked underneath her fingernails, and the rest of it was all over her dress.

A yell visibly startled Claire, the medic looked grim, no, no, no that meant... Claire lifted her eyes from off of the ground and rushed to the table, the woman's eyes lacked signs of life. She breathed in sharply and tears threatened to cascade down her cheeks once more. Blinks were the only thing Claire had to hold them at bay so that's what she did repeatedly until there wasn't any use for it. Claire held the lady's hand but parted with it to reunite it with her daughter's, the way it should be. She watched as the doctor spiraled into a whirlwind of anger and sadness, sympathy welled up inside of her. The only thing she wanted more was to comfort him, but that required words and Claire wasn't good with those. When he settled, she got closer to him and got a glimpse of his hand, it was bleeding and soon to be bruised. Without a second thought she ripped a strip of material from the front of her dress and wrapped it carefully around the doctor's hand then tied it to add pressure. His eyes looked through her as if she wasn't even there, he was lost in his own thoughts and she had hope that he would find his way back.

No longer were they tethered to this location - the death of the woman made sure of that. Claire knew where they had to go; they had to save the others like this woman, but how? They were in the middle of Onzor, they lacked transportation and the sky was beginning to darken and because of Claire there were most likely authorities on their way here. One thing Claire didn't have was a strategist brain, she was an engineer not a high-ranking soldier like many in this room were.

"Fort Rancor," Claire said loudly, she patted the medic's hand awkwardly and stood up to face the rest. She could only imagine what she looked like to them, covered in blood, tears, and wearing a now torn bloodstained dress. "The woman's last words were Fort Rancor." It had to be the name of the Prisoner of War camp, Claire hoped that it was enough information for someone to know where they were located in Onzor, the zone was important. Hopefully someone would come up with a plan...

​

???
???

"I'm on my way,"

It was this part of the job she disliked. Always doing the work that no one else wanted to do. Seniority was a card that kept being played. Here she was on an assignment that she didn't want to be on. It wasn't as if she could turn it down, this was her job now. She pressed her foot down on the gas pedal and revved the engine to life. It was better than watch duty as she could at least have some fun here.
​

Ulric Dalca
???, ???, Onzor

Perhaps my heart isn't operating on the same frequency as everyone else. He thought pensively. Everyone seems so determined to keep this woman alive. She's on the brink of death, it would better to let her go in peace. Maybe I've lost some humanity in the past year or so.

He stood their quietly, listening to them revolt against one another like children. The entire room was a flurry of emotions and it only got worst once the woman was confirmed dead. Ulric let his icy eyes move onto the medic. His anger was understandable, it was his job to save lives; the ultimate gift, and he failed. He couldn't imagine the burden that was weighing on his shoulders, that was bearing down on his neck...threatening to snap it.

Sighing, he found himself a dust covered desk and leaned against it. He was no leader, not for them anyway. He was better working alone, someone was always lost whenever he was at the reigns of command. Then again, that's to be expected. His grandfather had once said "A great victory can only be attained with an even greater loss." Those words had been proven true on multiple occasions. And today would be no exception. The more he thought about it, the more his resolve to walk this path was strengthening. The woman, he could ignore. If it was just her, he would've had no problem abandoning this place and speaking out on heading back to Kalbion. But that small girl, he could not just toss away. She had not deserved such a cruel fate.

With his arms folded, his back slightly slouched, and his head staring aimlessly at the floor; Claire's words reached him. And soon afterwards so did Enil's. He personally didn't have much experience with Onzor. His wars was fought on Kalbion soil, he had never traveled to Onzor to raise the banner of his people's struggles. He had no real say in this conversation. But his thoughts on returning to Kablion would be spoken sooner or later, it was beginning to gnaw at him like a bad itch.

Tilting his head up, he found his sights set on Claire's blood smeared person. It was a really disgusting feeling, to be covered in blood. It was also very harrowing for the first timer. He had nearly lost his mind the first time he had erased another's life. It could not be much different to be covered in the blood of someone you couldn't save; it must feel the same. He could not pity a man, for they needed to go through their own trials to become stronger but a woman was a different matter. Looking around, he searched for something that she could wipe the blood off with but had little luck. Then his eyes fell to the sleeves of his flannel. He didn't even hesitate.

Pulling his rugged flannel from off his back, he carefully headed over to Claire. A sedated frown laid on his emotionless face as he tossed the flannel towards them. "You two can get the blood off with that." He told her and Bishop.

Turning towards the others, Ulric begin to rub the side of his head with displeasure obvious on his noble features. He was but a soldier amongst other high officials in the military. He had no right to command them nor did he have the experience. Rookie officers, sure, but not exceptional people like them. In the end, he'd follow the orders that he deemed right. "We'll need a plan if we're to rescue them. Fort rancor doesn't sound like it'll be easy to infiltrate," He told them, his eyes moving across their faces as he spoke. "Who believes themselves most fit to lead, the most strategic. That's what we need right now."
​

Ryūko Katō
Somewhere in Onzor

As Newville called the time of death, Ryūko bowed her head for the woman, giving a moment in silence for her as the respectful thing to do. She had not known the woman, and felt no emotional attachment to her, but her death realised the weight of the situation they were in. As if it wasn't weighted already, but as Kalbionans in Onzor, would their lives mean much to them? Ryūko had nothing against Onzor, only that they were the same as Kalbion -- fighting a war that nobody wanted to be in, except those who stayed away from the battlegrounds. Wars were often political and very much unlike the past, the politicians stayed in the safety of their capitals while soldiers fought for them. Where were the days where kings were fighting from the front lines? Long gone.

However, the scene that played out around her was unexpected. The reactions of her now 'fellow comrades' were vastly dramatised, as if none of them had expected this to happen, nor had they ever lost a life before. True, the woman and child's death were unnecessary and it was something that might have been avoided, but to break out into tears or begin shouting angrily or … whatever Newville was doing now? It was as if this was his first day witnessing the war. Ryūko might have excused recruits but for people Ryūko considered her superiors (despite the stupidity of some of them)? It was… sad. Disappointing. Pathetic.

"Fort Rancor. The woman's last words were Fort Rancor." Mornet said loudly for everyone to hear. The name meant nothing to Ryūko. Despite her origins, she was born in Kalbion. She knew little of Onzor's geography.

"F*ck. If she came from that place, then I am positive death was a reward." The older soldier was next to speak. "I've been in there before, and if you think that is bad, then that camp is hell." He then approached Newville, acting sympathetic. "Her death may very much be my fault. I attempted to handle a situation I was not qualified for, and I believe I had a hand in her passing."

"You got that right," Ryūko hissed under her breath. The soldier might have heard her, but continued.

"Still, if we plan to make a move upon that camp, we will need as much medical support as we can for the survivors. Just because one life was not saved today, it does not mean a hundred can not be saved in the future." He then gazed wistfully away, perhaps proud of his profound and 'encouraging' words. Ryūko however was not impressed. Was he a solider? Soldiers were not light hearted and feeble. They did not sugarcoat the truth. They were strong, and Ryūko had seen the things they had yelled at cadets. They were not kind. But they were honest and tough when no one else could be. She narrowed her eyes at him. This man was a fraud.

"Get on your feet, Doctor. And pull yourself together." Ryūko said angrily, grabbing Newville by the collar, pulling him up and giving him a quick slap on the face. Not hard, but enough to wake him from his trance. "This is not the time to be wallowing in your mistakes. You're a medic for God's sake. Death should not be something that's new for you in this war." She let go of his collar, pushing him back against the wall he was leaning on.

"We'll need a plan if we're to rescue them. Fort Rancor doesn't sound like it'll be easy to infiltrate. Who believes themselves most fit to lead, the most strategic. That's what we need right now." The new soldier spoke next. He wasn't entirely stupid, Ryūko could give him that. But he wasn't sensible either.

"You want to storm a Fort in a country you know next to nothing about? We don't even know if that's where we are! For all we know, that's where the woman could have come from!" Ryūko frowned, her gaze wandering from those conscious one by one. "Our first plan should not be to rescue inhabitants we know nothing about, nor take revenge on enemies we also know nothing about." She glared at the older soldier, her gaze lingering much longer than the others in the room. "Think for a moment. You were all chosen for this meeting, were we not? We came from Summer Grove, and now we're in Onzor. At least we think we are. This could be a virtual situation for all we know."

"We have a Scouts and Spies in the room. We should get intel on where we are, and why we're here. Find a way to contact home. Then we can figure out how to move an unknown amount of people cross country without being spotted." Ryūko crossed her arms and stared at them. Shame on her for admiring them. She hoped the next words that came out of their mouths were not more senseless crap.
​

Ulric Dalca
???, ???, Onzor

He didn't mind this raven haired woman slapping some sense into the medic, every man needed a wake up call sometimes but he didn't exactly like her tone. The way she spoke so angrily wasn't helping the situation and honestly, he could feel the clouds of drama rolling in. Again, he ended up sighing, his cool eyes staring into woman's as she glared at other soldier. He wondered just what was it was that had sparked such a flame in her. Wasn't it her not even a few moments ago that was revolting against letting a woman die; now she was willing to leave even more citizens for dead. He didn't care in the least but he would keep that to himself.

She had some interesting points though, points that he had neglected earlier, points that he had tossed aside so that he could introduce his own deductions to the group. They were, short and ill-thought out but in his eyes they were important nonetheless. In a room full of other high-ranking officials, one could say that his inner soldier had taken over; that he was preparing to take orders and not dish them out. However, things had gone south quick and it wasn't exactly like he was use to such a situation. His wartime had not prepared him for the claws of a woman.

Taking a step back, his pale hands raised in surrender, Ulric found himself lazily giving in. "Alright, alright," He uttered, letting his arms fall back to his side. "Your suggestions are sound but if this is a virtual situation then perhaps the goal is Fort Rancor... If not, than are we all willing to leave the helpless to themselves? To leave them defenseless? We saw Onzor's brutality, we could save women and children..." He spoke out to everyone quietly, feeling it needed to be out in the open.

Folding his arms over his chest, he found himself staring specifically towards Ryuko. The statement had obviously been voiced to the entire group but at the moment she seemed the one that would need the most convincing. He wouldn't speak too much, if only to save himself from the possible ear-pain and headache. "Calm down a little. Try and be more understanding of the situation," He told her serenely. "Its confusing for all of us. No one has the right answers and Fort Rancor is our only clue."

Bringing his nail to his lips out of agitation he spoke after a small pause. "And I can't help but feel that help isn't coming."
​

"Bloody" Mayte Howaru
Summer Grove, Kalbion

Summer Grove, 'The Dome', the capital of Kalbion; a place where you can find the most ignorant people in the whole continent with a fake sense of security granted to them from the massive force field protecting them. The carefree attitude of the city proved their ignorance, or at least their refusal to accept the reality that awaited outside of the false environment it created, and this attitude grinded Mayte's gears. A summons to the city was a rarity for him, as his position in the Kalbion Special Forces tended to have him on convert operations throughout the warzones.

Mayte had gone through his morning ritual of sharpening each of his blades before setting out by foot towards the Zandro Center. A sharper blade leads to a cleaner and quicker kill, though he doubted he'd have need for that particular set of skills on this occasion. While walking through the city towards his destination he was disgusted by the amount of people jaunting about with no destination or schedule in mind. This inefficiency made their lives seem worthless in to his dead eyes. There was a silver lining in this city, the automated cab service. No drivers, just code and information, not even a need for words to be exchanged. After hailing a cab the process was quick; the address and payment.

It was hard for Mayte not to notice the ridiculous war propaganda on billboards as his taxi travelled towards The Zandro Centre. Much of which was over exaggerated, which went well with the buildings that accompanied them and the city itself. The efficiency of the cabs was something that Mayte did enjoy about this city; their automation reducing delays caused by humans. Having the cab arrive the quickest possible by taking the shortest route instead of trying to squeeze the highest fair out by taking slightly longer routes was also pleasant.

After paying his fair, Mayte disembarked in front of the Zandro Centre; whose doors were being blocked by two well-built guards. Almost instantly they began to stare daggers at Mayte as he walked towards them, which was returned back to them as he allowed his dead eyes to meet theirs. The darker of the two guard's face twitched slightly, presumably in annoyance at the lack of intimidation shown by the much shorter and thinner Mayte as he presented the guard with the letter of summons. The guard's gaze moved from Mayte to the letter of summons, before he took it. The guard moved with practiced precision, opening the letter and scanning it before returning it too Mayte. This process was completed with a gesture that caused the doors to slide open and administer Mayte, whom nodded in appreciation of the guard's efficiency as he accepted the letter before continuing into the narrow entrance hallway.

The hallway was dim-lit compared to what would be expected from the rest of the building, as this particular hallway lacked the glass-panes and had a slate gray tiled floor that almost seemed out of place. There was an empty desk in the middle of the semicircle room that the hallway had opened into, with larger circular desk to the right that had an overly enthusiastic lady occupying it. She began to open her mouth as Mayte's eyes fell on hers causing her momentarily lose her perky disposition, though sadly it was only a momentary lapse.

"Uh.. Afternoon Mr. Howaru!" She beamed as she spoke to him. "Most people skip over me! I'm glad you noticed me, though that would be expected from someone of your skills!"

"Afternoon," Mayte replied, retrieving the letter from his coat, "I received this letter of summons."
Seemingly undaunted by Mayte's cold tone the lady continued with her bubbly speak.

"Yes! Indeed you did, I'm Shelley Pilar by the way! It's very nice to meet you Mayte. I have you kno-"

"I'm sorry," Mayte cut in, "but if possible I'd like to finish the check-in and continue to the meeting."

"Okay! You are exactly on time, fantastic! You will just have to," Shelley was typing on a touch screen with vigour as she spoke to Mayte. "Uh.." She paused as she brought up a 3D model of Mayte. Regaining her composure she continued onwards. "Yes you will need to relinquish your weapons, the stiletto on your left arm, the stiletto on your right leg, the dagger on you-"

There was a thud on the desk as Mayte quickly unstrapped each of his weapons and placed them neatly onto her desk, all eighteen of them. "That's all of them, would you also like my invitation?" he asked placing the letter neatly next to his array of weapons.

A perplexed looked came over Shelley as she looked at the collection of weapons neatly arrange on her desk as well as the letter. "Wow, you certainly like your knives don't you Mayte! Just a moment." She retrieved a plastic tray from beneath her desk and very careful placed each blade into it before taking the tray and opening a chest height locker that was behind her with a touch of her finger.

Working with the speed on a receptionist could have, Shelley presented Mayte with a card and a slip of paper. "Here you go Mayte, the card is for the elevator over there and needs to be pressed on the black strip. Once the elevator arrives and the door open's and you're inside, enter these four numbers in reverse and you'll be on your way!"

Mayte thanked Shelley before taking the items from her hand and made his way towards the Elevator that appeared as he pressed his card to the strip.

"Have fun Mayte! And have a great day as well!" called out Shelley as he stepped into the elevator.

The doors of the elevator opened, signifying the end of his trip. Stepping out he was in a room, surrounded with window's that supposedly showed and overview of the city. Though it seemed the only plausible explanation was that they were programmed to show the view from the top of the Zandro Centre, as the elevator went downwards and he began his trip down on the ground floor.
There was only one other person in the room, who was sitting across the room at the table. Mayte found a seat closer to the elevator entrance and sat down. Slowly a few more people found their way out of the elevator into the room, with the latest addition, looking at the fake windows for longer than seemed reasonable. Turning the lady noticed the other people in the room and began to walk towards the table before collapsing to the ground. The man who was in the room when Mayte enter fell back into his chair, alerting Mayte to the fact that they were most likely being tranquilised. His suspicion was quickly confirmed as another person fell unconscious.

Slowing his heartbeat and breathing Mayte watched a man thrash about before falling and knocking over a few chairs. That was pointless waste of energy. He thought as he lowered his arms to the table making a pillow for his head as he too surrendered to the gas.
After regaining consciousness, Mayte had gone through the process of checking whether more had happened than just losing consciousness only to deduct if something had happened to his body, it was undetectable at this point in time. The follow few minutes had Mayte evaluating his 'team' members and their reactions to the predicament that had befallen the group. He recognised a few of the people and had personally worked with one, Adrian, a special force sniper.

Mayte's dead gaze fell over the group. One of the more annoying members of the group, who looked like a foot soldier but acted like a complete idiot was trying to address the situation despite being a contributing factor to a main issue of their predicament. He did have a valid point but before anymore discuss could come from it, Adrian cut in. Adrian had great concern for the women whom a doctor was working on, as well as the possibility of more prisoners, which seemed to be shared amongst most of the people there.

The woman that Mayte recognised as Ryūko Katō was voicing her differing opinion to the idiotic foot soldier until the doctor conceded to a fact Mayte knew from the moment the lady was brought into the room; she was already dead. After which, for some reason the doctor, or at least the man who was moments before acting like a doctor was pacing while yelling over and over again, "I should have saved her!" Before punching the wall and sliding the ground sobbing.

"Life is cheap." Mayte said quietly, as he stood up. Pathetic, getting so upset about a lost life. Yet still no one is actually thinking about the real predicament we are in. He thought as he walked towards the door. Stopping at the door he took in the scenery, and quickly recognised the twin power plants that were towering above the skyline of the nearby city.

"Fort Rancor, the woman's last words were Fort Rancor." A voice Mayte now recognised as the short haired lady in the now blood covered floral dress said with a dour tone. With the woman now dead, and a location spoken the soldier spoke up once again, admitting his fault as well as informing the group about how bad of a place Fort Rancor was, and perhaps helping the rest of the group grasp the predicament they were actually in.

Said predicament was that the group had been abandoned within Onzorian territory in a glass room. From the information Mayte had gathered as well as what was learnt from the now dead PoW woman, they were in or on the boundary of Grisel. Fort Rancor was a famous Prisoner of War camp in Onzorian Zone 6; known to soldiers and commoners a like from the stories of torture and general refusal of human rights for prisoners. Mayte knew these stories first hand, having been assigned covert reconnaissance missions concerning the Fort and its surrounding city Grisel.

Ignoring the members of his group whom were inside arguing with each other once again Mayte walked outside the room, surveying the area for anything that could be of use. After spotting a melon sized rock fifteen feet out from the glass room that was currently the base of operations a thought came to him. As the loud woman's voice began to drown out the voice of the soldier, who almost shared Mayte's eyes, Mayte went and gathered up the stone. Re-entering the room, rock in hand he saw the red-head, whom had been sitting crossed armed when he left the room stand up and walk towards Ryūko, who lecturing the people who had remained in the room after apparently taking the leadership role herself.

"Just shut your f*cking mouth for one second. Stop talking down on these people like you're so much f*cking better than them." The red-head interjected, her hands balled around Ryūko's shirt. She continued, now slightly less aggressive, disagreeing with some of Ryūko's point of having the spies and scouts go instead insit that Ryūko should be the guide before shoving her backwards. Side stepping the projectile that Ryūko had become Mayte stopped in front of a corner of the rooms table.

A loud shatter rang out in the room as Mayte smashed the rock through the corner of the table, creating a large amount of glass shards. Reviewing the shards on the ground he found two shards that would service as blades. With upmost care he collected the two shards and used one to cut two strips off the bottom of his coat. Using the two strips he wrapped the flatter ends of the shard's creating two improvised glass daggers. These will work until I can get a real blade. Mayte thought to himself while inspecting his handy work.

"I'm leaving." Mayte declared, making his way back to the doorway. "I know this area." Stopping at the doorway he turned and swept each person in the room with his dead eyes before continuing out of the door, towards the city of Grisel.

​

Adrian Arroyo
Onzor

Adrian's entire focus was on the doctor operating on the woman. He nervously observed him operating on her with nothing but his hands and a hairpin. He knew the odds were stacked against her. He had watched countless times before as soldiers and civilians died from less treacherous injuries. But he felt a tinge of hope, a small dash. He knew if there was anyone that could save her, it would be this doctor. He confidently told himself in his head that he could do it, playing the words to himself on a repeating loop.

Don't be an idiot, Adrian. In the back of his mind, he felt the reality begin to brew. His common sense, his veteran experience and maturity ripped its way into the front of his mind, and he reminded himself how he would have reacted if it wasn't a woman who had just lost his daughter, if it was just another face in the sea of blood. He was a veteran Special Forces soldier, acting like a hopeless rookie, all because of a personal attachment he shouldn't have even seen in the first place. Eventually, the Doc called it, and Adrian wordlessly and silently felt his body slump against the side of a counter, and then onto the floor.

He sat on his behind, his elbows on each one of his knees as he stared aimlessly at some random point in the room. Voices across the room began to speak back and forth at each other. Some were different volumes and pitches, but all were jumbled now to Adrian. His gaze was fixed, glued to the empty spot in the room. His mind began to wander now, even if he had tried so many times before to occupy it, to over-think it, to distract it. It wandered to his dead loved ones, his wife and daughter's images seeming to be permanently engraved into his waking eyes. He could see them, hear them, but he couldn't feel them. His arms felt numb and broken. His insides felt hollow and devoid of life. Adrian wondered for a moment what would happen if he were to take a knife to his chest right now. Would there be a heart present, or had they taken it on that day? Maybe this was already hell. Maybe he was already dead.

Adrian placed his hands into his face, wiping away what he thought was sweat, but remembering that he was still probably covered in the young girl's blood, even if he tried his best to wipe it off. The action of wiping it away and viewing his palms was enough to snap him back into the arguments between the individuals in the room. Fort Rancor was being brought up, which Adrian uncovered was the last words of the woman, and the area where more prisoners of the same distinction probably were. Other Kalbionans, possibly other women and children. There was no way he wasn't going to go there now, as a final request for the woman who had died, and for himself. He only wondered if the others would be up to the task. As Adrian began looking around the room, taking in the faces of the individuals for the first time, he was surprised at how many he had recognized. This wasn't just a random, ragtag group of soldiers, engineers and doctors. This was Kalbion's finest.

A man shattered a piece of the table, collecting the pieces to be used as weapons. Adrian instantly recognized him as someone he had worked with in the past. "Bloody Mayte Howaru. S-Man, KSF," Adrian blurted out, pointing a finger at the man walking out of the building. "He could go into an Onzorian bunker, knife the heart outta an officer and sneak out before anyone ever knew he was dead." Adrian's eyes wandered around the room, stopping at the raven-haired woman who was grasping the other dark-haired woman. "Staff Troop Allison Baratheon," He stated, moving his finger from Mayte to her. "Ma'am, " He added quickly with a small salute to from his seated position in some respect for her higher rank and their history together. "She could knock the head off'a soldier in a fort a kilo away with a BB, then run up the fort and catch his head before it hit the ground, then leave before anyone could take a shot at her." Adrian let himself smirk a bit at his exaggeration, but hoped the others would get his point. He moved along again, pointing now at the another soldier.

"Troop Ulric Dalka, sir," He gave the younger man a similar salute from his seated position as he did to Allison. "My CO was tryin' hard to recruit you for our squad back when you were an I-MAN Prime. I saw you in the papers for curing N-2, Doc," Adrian said, pointing at Doctor Brandt. "One of my squad had it, so thanks for that."

He looked around again, eyeing most of the individuals in the room. "Dunno everybody here, but those I do, by rep or our work together, I know you're the best at what you do," Adrian pushed himself off the ground, and continued to bring his gaze to everyone in the room. "This is Grisel, Zone 6, Onzor. To any of you who know it, that means we're kinda lucky as far as being in Onzor goes. Ain't no way we're here by accident. I dunno if Fort Rancor is our mission, but something is. Ain't no way we were dropped off here without any weapons or support. All we have to do is figure out what...what...WHAT THE F*CK?"

Adrian looked down at his hands, which he had been waving around slightly as he was speaking his mind. To his complete shock and bewilderment, his hands were...glowing. A strange, orange hue was present across both of his hands, wrapped around them as if they were attached to them as an extension of his skin. At first, he thought he was on fire, so he tried to pat them down to get rid of them. They didn't go away, although the orange hue ruptured and deformed for a moment, before once more surrounding his arms. The strange thing was, he felt no pain from his hands. Instead, he felt a strange sensation, unlike anything he felt before.

This wasn't fire. This was something else.

​

Osiris Naharas
Zandro Center, Summer Grove, Kalbion

Osiris hopped the small gap to the ground out of his cab after paying his "tip". He stood outside the Zandro Center, one of the few governmental buildings he wasn't familiar with. Two burly guards towered over him as he approached the door. The scowled until Osiris started to pull out his invitation. After examining it, the guard on the right waved Osiris through.

"Good day," Osiris said politely as he walked into the building. He walked briskly down the opening hallway into a semi-circular room. He heard a voice to his right, and saw someone chatting with the receptionist.

Osiris walked over to the desk and waited for the man in front of him to leave before checking in.

"Hello! You must be Mr. Naharas! Punctual as ever." Osiris grinned. Being on time was something he took pride in.

"Yes, that is me. I'm here for the, er, meeting," he said, pulling out his invitation again.

"Oh, don't bother with that little invitation, I already know who you are," she said as she started typing on her computer, "the guards wouldn't have let you in without it anyway. Oh! Forgive me, where are my manners? I'm Shelley Pilar, welcome to the Zandro Center!"

"Thank you," Osiris said automatically. He didn't know why he said thank you whenever people welcomed him. It just seemed to fit.

"Alright, looks like we're all good! Here, let me take that watch, they don't want any sort of trinkets or metals bought in, you see," she said. Osiris handed her his watch with disdain. He felt weird without it.
"Just go down there to the elevator and use this card to get in…" she handed him an ID card, "And punch the numbers in reverse, I don't know why they did it like that to be honest!"

"Thanks again," Osiris said as he left towards the elevator.

Once he got into the room, Osiris was pleased to see that he was the third person there. He took a seat in a chair opposite of the other two people and kept to himself until everyone else came in, one by one. To his displeasure the meeting was delayed due to some late arrivals, but casual chit chat filled the void.

Osiris checked his nonexistent watch for the twenty first time, again surprising himself with his lack of knowledge of the time. Some girl started to doze off to his left, and Osiris held his hand in his head. He began to feel embarrassed for the woman, but soon he felt drowsy as well. He yawned, and looked at his bare wrist again, but the rest was forgotten in sleep.


Osiris woke with a start. Rubbing his head, he groaned.

I can't believe I fell asle…. Something was wrong. More wrong than his falling asleep. The room was scattered about, chairs overturned and blood covering the table. Osiris was on the ground, his chair on its side, and people were yelling at each other loudly. Osiris scrambled to his feet and reached for his gun…which was sitting in his desk at home. The invitation clearly said no weapons, so he didn't bother packing it.

"Damn it!" He cursed. He slowly pulled his hand out of his inner jacket pocket like an idiot. He was surrounded by people, but they weren't enemies. Some looked in horror at the dead woman's body while most were listening to a big guy trying to make sense of the situation. Osiris recognized him as Adrian Arroyo, a special forces hero. Osiris started to calm down a bit knowing that everyone in the room was moderately friendly, but he was still tense about being thrown into this chaos.

"Dunno everybody here, but those I do, by rep or our work together, I know you're the best at what you do," Adrian pushed himself off the ground, and continued to bring his gaze to everyone in the room. "This is Grisel, Zone 6, Onzor. To any of you who know it, that means we're kinda lucky as far as being in Onzor goes. Ain't no way we're here by accident. I dunno if Fort Rancor is our mission, but something is. Ain't no way we were dropped off here without any weapons or support. All we have to do is figure out what...what...WHAT THE F*CK?" Osiris reached into his pocket again, cursing as he grabbed nothing, again. Adrian's hands started to glow orange, as if they were putting off some sort of mist or haze. As he waved them around, the mist spread and disappeared after lingering for a moment. Osiris forced himself to cool off, slightly dropping the knot in his chest. He breathed out heavily, releasing some stress.

He quickly looked at the situation. The woman was dead from what looked like a gunshot wound, but blood was covering the table and a few people's hands, indicating that they had attempted to save her. As for the shooter, Osiris doubted it was anyone in the room considering the security precautions taken to arrange this meeting, and by the fact that there was only one dead person. Blood came in from the door leading to the table, suggesting that she was carried into the building from outside. A glance outside confirmed this assumption, as there was blood on the ground out there too. It also told him that they were not in Kalbion, as Arroyo stated.

But the room…was the same? Osiris backed up against the wall opposite of the door, eyeing everyone in the room.

"What the f*ck is going on?" Osiris blurted out, something he was sure everyone had said or thought at least four times already. He groaned and grabbed his head again. What was the mission? Why was he here? What was he supposed to do? His orders? End goals? Objective? Anything? Osiris looked back up again, and it was clear nobody had any answers. But Adrian was making sense. There was no way this was a suicide mission or training exercise, there were too many high value personnel in the room.

​