How long had it been? To feel someone’s very life throb under his hand. Just a little squeeze and he could end this one’s life right here and now. Yen did not find enjoyment in it, but he was well aware how much power he held right now.

The young Liash’s face was red as he struggled to even draw breath. Which was hard when you were being held a few inches off the ground and an armored powerful hand clasped tightly around your throat. Yen’s hand to be exact.

Ignoring the loud cheers as Will was currently engaged with singing a drinking song duet with another patron, Yen slid a thumb over the screen and the alert immediately came up.

He frowned slightly at the words, but quickly stashed the tablet away again before anyone else other then Heinrich noticed.

"What do you make of it?" Heinrich's mental voice quietly reached Yen's mental ear.

"Just a general alert so far, nothing serious, I don't think we need to worry about it right now. Its not red and we're off duty. Apparently somebody got mouthy in a meeting with the Voices."

"Hmph, gutsy. Ah well, let us not allow it to put a damper on the celebrations."

Age: 23

Species: 1/2 human, 1/2 wolf demon

Weapon of choice:  Moon, Sun, Star staff which can separate into three

different weapons: Moon sword, Star dagger, and Sun staff.

Abilities: She has complete control over water, ice, electricity, and metal. She can transform into a blue wolf and her size depends on the circumstances (ranging between the size of a German Shepherd and a four story building)  . She also has two light blue angel wings that she can release at will (most of the time they are hidden).

Bio:

Commander Arnold Leonson nervously tried to stop himself from fidgeting as the gate technicians worked silently. Today was inspection day and that meant that any moment now, that great ring would flare and reveal the officer to do the inspection.

Speak of the Devil, the circuitry along the ring lit brightly as the center warped with the familiar distortion of a GATE. The Terran snapped to attention as the distortion enlarged and then retreated, leaving behind a duo of figures.

The male Terran was obviously the leader. Hands folded behind his back as dark murky blue eyes gave a brief sweep of the room. Short cropped dark hair was neatly pressed underneath a officer's cap to match with the rest of the officer's uniform. His rank indicator marked him a Major. At his sides, a Technoar technician peered through his visor at the room and made a few quick notes into his tablet.

"Major Morgan, welcome to the Z'ar base" Leonson's clipped greeting was met with a penetrating stare from the now identified Morgan, who then gave an approving nod.

"At ease Commander, let's try to make this as brief and painless as possible." Morgan's thick Irish accented English was even and measured. Leonson immediately fell in step with the Major as the three of them exited the GATE room, the doors hissing shut behind them.

"Yes sir. I am pleased to report that so far everything is on schedule here at the colony," Leonson found himself having a little trouble keeping up with the longer strides of his superior.

"Good, we need more good news. And how are the greens doing here at the base," Morgan returned, staring straight ahead.

"There have been some skirmishes with some gutsy pirates, but nothing they could not handle. Some of the wildlife as well." Leonson turned a corner with the Major as the three of them emerged onto a balcony overlooking a general training room.

Morgan's assistant had still said nothing, still carefully taking notes. Morgan himself gave a sweep of the room, watching fresh young recruits of various species training. From hand to hand combat, to marksmen training, he was pleased to see the youngsters working so hard.

"Is this truly wise?" The synthesized voice echoed from the darkness, originating from a pair of great slit glowing neon green eyes lacking any form of pupils. They hovered far above the floor of the chamber, peering at its company. The vague shape of a robed figure is all that can be seen of the owner of the eyes.

A Naga bowed humbly, standing in the center of the chamber, and looking up the green eyes. "The Terran Voice has indicated that it be wise to meet our potential...partners before we settle on a deal." Her reptilian eyes turned to a pair of deep ruby eyes that glowed at the same level as the green ones.

"These...Liash, offer us a tempting deal. But we know better then to blindly accept help." The red eye's voice was deep and equally synthesized. The identities of the enigmatic leaders of the Infinite Alliance had to be protected. "Sometimes it takes a face to face encounter before we can come to a deal."

A thoughtful hum from a set of teal blue eyes. "As you say Terran" the Technoar Voice intoned flatly. A snort from the white eyes of the Draconian Voice.

The last figure, the only other one aside from the Naga who actually had a form, clicked its mandibles. The Sectis Voice, her holographic form enlarged to match her compatriots, was unreadable as always.

Facts on Z'ar

Civilian Population: 500 Naga Sectis Infrastructure Hive: 750 individuals Base Population: 2000, mostly green recruits with a few officers to oversee

Currently colony is still in early stages of development. All basic infrastructure has been placed down and the colony proper has set up most domestic buildings.

Danger Level: Minimal, only known threat are pirates in nearby system. Have been forewarned about any incursions against the colony.

He'd have preferred the Dark.

Darkness suited the Replica; he'd been born from it.  But the white...the bright lights of the laboratory, of the doctors' flashlights, of the operating tables...the burn wasn't always physical, but he began to feel it, deep within.

There was nothing he could do but endure.  The lights stung his sensitive eyes, but he powered through it squinting.  The poking and prodding of the doctors--the psychological tests of others--he endured it.  Because he had no choice.  Half the time, he couldn't move.  The other half, they bade him fight.  Fight, or the electricity comes.

He felt himself slipping.  After a while, it was too hard to filter out their suggestions.  So much easier to just do what they asked; his pain was shorter if he did, and less frequent.

Until he heard the higher-ups talking.

Funny, how the little things get overlooked.  That creatures born of Darkness have keener senses than those of humans.  Not just smell and sight, but hearing, too.  On the other side of the window, he heard them, and his suspicions were confirmed.  Laid out for him in bullet-point format; bare and transparent.  

He was their weapon.

Ha.  Hilarious.  Brainwashing him, huh.  Brainwashing him.  The Replica, who'd already had his mind rearranged, taken apart and put back together again.  But that had been the point, hadn't it?  Because they thought he was susceptible to it.  Vulnerable.  Re-programmable, and at their whim.

They couldn't be more wrong.

Giving in was easy.  The tricky part was not letting them know that he hadn't.  Pulling the wool over their eyes--pretending to be their complacent slave as they began to trust him more, as he kept his keen eyes and ears open for ways out--became his greatest pleasure.

Months.  Uncounted months.  He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen his family and friends.  The last time he'd heard his father snore or his mother laugh.  The last time he'd seen his brother's wry smile, or Van's stupid grin.  The last time he'd seen one of Ienzo's quiet gifts on his front porch.  For many months, a sickness curdled his Heart, accompanied by a vague worry for Sora, but he couldn't place why, no more than he could get out of this place.  He suffered it like he suffered everything else:  in silence.

They had to be looking for him.  Weren't they?  His keen ears told him more; his captors had forged letters.  Sent them to his brother; fed him lies.  'I never want to see you again.'  'You're the reason I left.'  'I can't stand living in your shadow any longer.'  Well, he'd give them one thing--they knew his mind.  But not his Heart.  Never his Heart.  But it was just as well...after so many months, he didn't want his family to see.  They'd be better off never knowing what he was becoming.

| Part 1:  Out of the Frying Pan (Sissel) | Part 2:  Into the Fire (X) | Part 3:  Murphy's Law (Sissel) |

The whole thing was his fault.

It was the Legacy Society.  He recognized every face.  People who had called him friend, family, for so many months, now looking at him with eyes blazing in hate, with faces twisted into gargoylesque shapes of rage.  Bellowing ravenous bloodthirst over the roar of automatics.

No; it hadn't been him that these humans had called friend.  It had been his undercover identity, a construct-personality, a person fabricated to let him infiltrate their ranks.  And now that they saw him for what he really was--a Reploid, a walking WMD, the object of their hatred--they were willing to cast aside all bonds of loyalty, even though those fraternal feelings had been based on lies.

X hesitated to shoot back.  But they didn't, and he had a civilian to protect.  He gritted his teeth, morphed his arm, and returned fire--non-lethal shots.  Non-lethal shots only.

They were human.  Deranged, hateful, murderous, traitorous--but still human.  He knocked the guns out of their hands; he blew up potted plants and trash cans to drive them back.  But he would not kill them.