Mhaieiyu

Arc 1, Chapter 5

Unruly Youth

Tokken stared at the doctor for a moment as he registered those words carefully. Fely probably saw it as mere folly, smiling as he did. A frustrated frown slowly formed on the youngster’s face.

"They had no idea?" he asked.

"Not that I recall. Either they lied through their teeth or they were as clueless as you are," Fely sniggered, patting Chloe's fur after having sent her into a trance. "Oh, but I wouldn't know of such either way. Your mother and I only spoke on a few occasions. Truth be told, I was quite young at the time."

Tokken's hair stood up at the thought of his parents discussing with such a strange individual; especially his mother. Shaking such disturbing thoughts out of his head, he asked:

"Do you have any semblance of a clue regarding why they carried this thing around?"

Standing up to face the boy, Fely sighed at his efforts. "I'm sorry to say: I haven't the foggiest idea. In all honesty, they were quite the suspicious group. Even we had our eyes on them for a while," the physicist admitted with a shrug, organizing some paperwork.

"Suspicious, huh...?" Tokken murmured, thinking to himself. It was true they were an odd bunch. Not rude or bizarre by any means, but their intentions were often unclear to the boy, especially during his youngest years.

With a straightened back and a resigned complexion, Tokken put on his best smile before thanking the doctor. As he exited the room rather abruptly, Chloe snapped out of her hypnosis before tailing the boy. Tokken looked down at her, giving her a warm smile.

"Hey, how about a walk? I know I shouldn't, but there's a good deal of green right outside," he offered, feeling the stagnant air wear away at his being.

"I'm not sure it'd be a good idea..." Chloe responded, concerned. "It's getting dark…"

"Come on, you must be getting sick of this air, right? It won't be for long, I promise. Just to see the sunset?" he tried to persuade, pressuring her. Looking up at him, Chloe's timid nature wouldn't allow a better answer.

"Okay... Just for a bit."

Tokken smiled at her compliance, looking ahead with a somewhat guilty expression. In truth, he felt sick. Be it the high-calorie meal his stomach wasn't used to, the damage from his ankle, the news of his situation, or simply the toxicity in the air; perhaps even the overburdening combination of the lot. Regardless, he didn't want to show it to the Howler, not wanting to upset her with his seemingly incessant chain of predicaments. Whether that feeling was justified, he didn't know.

Once the pair had reached the outside, taking in a lungful of the mostly decontaminated air the surrounding nature had to offer, they abandoned the Facility in search of a peaceful place to harbour around for a kip. Following the river to the nearby edge of the cliff, which cascaded in a magnificent waterfall, they took a detour for a small clearing, setting down to take in the heavenly sights.

"I have to say,” Tokken said, his tone lightened. “This place is amazing. How far down do you think the waterfall goes?" he asked, looking at his companion with excited curiosity. To his surprise, he saw her stare at the ground almost breathlessly, ignoring the majesty of nature just above her eyes. Concerned, the boy stared at her, unable to speak his mind.

A few seconds passed before she would answer, looking at him from the corner of her eyes with focused, slitted pupils.

"I'm smelling for predators."

"Are you sure? You seem a little... off-put."

"I'm thinking, then," she insisted, shaking her head as she raised her gaze. "Thinking about predators."

"That's it?"

"That's it," she repeated.

Staring at her for a few seconds, he decided not to press on. If she did feel unwell, it likely wasn't for a reason he could help with. As much as it peeved him, Tokken remained silent.

"I don't know if I want to go home. I don't think I would even know how to," she finally revealed, staring at nothing in particular.

"Well... what do you mean?"

"For starters, I already angered them for different reasons. But more importantly..." she stammered, unsure of how to explain herself appropriately.

"More importantly...?"

"I've made friends with a human. They wouldn't like that."

Frowning, Tokken went into thought. "Well... I can't exactly impose a culture change among your peers. You don't have to stay with me, you know. In fact, I'm certain it'd be better for you to be with your own kind over the likes of me."

"You might think so, but... To be honest, I still don't think I even liked most of them. Mom was okay, I guess... she used to worry a lot about the littlest things."

"Well, mothers are like that. They're hardwired to fret about every step you take, to make sure you're ready for the world, you know?" Tokken shrugged off with a smile. Chloe giggled, her tone sweetening.

"And Dad was always hunting..."

"Did he do it for the family?"

Chloe looked at the teen curiously, amused by his concern. "Yes. Always."

"Then he's a decent father in my books."

"A decent father, huh?" she asked, Tokken's fingers gliding through her immaculate fur.

"Yeah. That's half points at least," he chuckled, closing his eyes.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

Skull met concrete in a wince-worthily strong thud as Emris collided face-first into the stone, his assailant wasting no time in continuing his attack. Sitting on his bleeding chest so as to prevent escape, the Cryptid slammed his fists into the soldier's head repetitively, furious anger written on his contorted face. The veteran's lips, nose, and jaw bruised and bled as he was knocked around violently, somehow still alive through it all. As the feline raised a fist to knock him blind, Emris lifted an arm, catching his punch with a widening, monstrous grin from his battered face.

The Cryptid too smiled maniacally, his other arm still clocking the resisting veteran as he mindlessly pummelled away at the war veteran’s complexion.

Despite his blunders, Emris spoke between corrupted breaths. "Ye know, it gets kind of tirin' when ye keep pulling the same swings. Knock 'em dead..."—he proclaimed, kicking the feline's legs off-balance before rolling atop him—"...with some variety, ye lousy shite."

Trapping his opponent in a premeditated leg lock, Emris raised his unused right arm to propel a variety of punches into his fury-ridden target.

"Crosses, jabs, thwacks... Angle and potency, lad!" he listed in a bizarrely enthusiastic yell, still riddling his opponent with tempted fierceness.

He was a pretty awful teacher, in truth. One doesn't often learn much from their tutor if they're explaining whilst simultaneously offering a range of concussions to concern oneself with later.

The feline, who had up until now gathered so much confidence in avenging his fallen friends, had suddenly found himself trapped under the significant weight and hold of the fully formed human. The majority of his body's muscles held tight coupled with the constant barrage he was receiving forced him to release a gargled war cry.

As Emris raised a brow—as well as a fist—he soon realised that a man with a tire iron was loudly approaching the two, swinging the iron against Emris' back, forcing him to parry the attack. The small opening was all the beast needed to release an arm, knocking the man off of his body. Standing up, the Cryptid held his swollen face in pain as he leaned against the wall behind his rescuer. Spitting blood, the feline gave a broken smirk.

"Hurt more last time," the beastly biped mocked, cracking his neck as a few more hooligans left their hiding places to assist the two.

Emris straightened his back, raising his fists and lining his face with a toothy smirk. In spite of the beast's previous attacks, his face seemed far less bruised than expected.

"Aye, not surprised. Ye didn't come at me clean, pal," Emris spat back, bucking his boot against the pavement as if gesturing his intentions. As the brawl between combat veteran and the impromptu street gang was seconds from ensuing, a sharp, smoky voice echoed off of the closed-in walls.

"Ho-ly shit. Ah, look at ya go.”

The figure of a young boy revealed itself high off the ground, hanging precariously from a rooftop as his excessively long clump of dark ginger hair flailed wildly in the howling wind. Cackling, the youth tilted dangerously close to the edge, waving his pistol in the air as he continued.

"I can't tell if ya're dense, blind or a head-up-his-ass big shot. Tell me, Syndie: are you the strong type? I've been meanin' to get some real sport 'round here."

Hearing the lad, Emris looked up, raising his brow as the boy revelled the scene.

"I'm guessin’ you have something to do with this lot? I figured this seemed staged," the middle-aged veteran expressed, shrugging his shoulders towards their motives. "And nay. These folks just aren't much a threat."

"Ya're sayin' this while cornered. Ya do know that, right?" the figure asked mockingly, before leaping off the six-story building, tapping his feet against various walls to slow his otherwise lethal fall. Despite the distance he fell, his final landing was deaf-silent.

With the sun no longer eclipsing his frame, the boy's features could finally be distinguished. Standing a head below Emris', the young teen wore old, torn grey jeans and an oversized black hoodie in which he hid his hands; obscuring the upper portion of his face to any person that wasn’t directly in front of him. His hair, which nearly dragged against the floor, hung collectively to his left, leaving naught but a folded patch to cover up the opposite side of his skull. His most distinct feature was that of a sickeningly wide, slim, shark-toothed smirk that nearly stretched to his ears; the clearest feature from the darkness of his hidden facial features.

Staring up at the veteran's emerald eyes with his own cloudy grey ones, the young criminal asked:

"You are a Syndie, aren't ya? Are ya gonna speak?"

"Aye. Naught to say," Emris replied, straightening his back to impose his height on the lad.

"Puffin' up? Pfft, hah! Y'know, I was hoping I'd catch an angel today, not a delusional grandpa," the boy mocked, his smile twisting in amusement. "So? Not gonna punch me like the other guys?"

"I don't beat kids, bud," Emris firmly replied, not backing down to the lad’s pestering tone.

"Is that right?" the young, smoky voice of the boy tested, amused by his misplaced morals. A cleaver-shaped dagger snaked its way out of the boy's back, its metal shimmering discreetly as it lay tucked by his left leg — primed for slaughter.

Glancing at the child’s comrades, Emris chuckled to himself.

"So, I'm guessin’ ye’re the 'Big Bad' of this here generation of crime-doers?”

"Eh, one of 'em," the boy shrugged his shoulders, glaring intently at the man's every move.

"What's yer name, then?" Emris asked, humouring his ballsy approach. Nearly butting heads with the man, the boy’s eyes widened with his smile.

"Pride. Take it to the Gates and speak of my infamy up there."

And, just as he uttered his last word, 'Pride' suddenly moved with blinding speed, his left hand swooped up with dagger-in-hand to pierce the man's chest with its acute tip. Just as the lightning-fast stab would've connected, however, the metal collided instead with an imperceptible wall that produced a glass-like shattering sound; halting the weapon’s course completely. Looking down, the criminal noticed Emris' hand had raised subtly.

"Predictable," Emris remarked, narrowing his eyes with a gaze oozing confidence. Instead of dissatisfaction, he was surprised to see the boy's sickening smile remain as he looked back up at him.

"Really?" ‘Pride’ asked rhetorically. The lack of sarcasm in his voice sent a shock-wave of realisation and pain through the veteran, as he finally noticed the boy's second hand—carrying a carbon copy of his first blade—dripping in his lifeblood by his opposite side. With a groan, the man's body struggled to remain standing, fighting through the pain to preserve his straight face to the best of his ability. Sweat poured from his forehead.

"I like yer style,"—Emris uttered, groaning—"Maybe not as hopeless... as the rest."

Humming, the boy raised his previous blade to the man's neck, pressing the cleaver-like edge to his throat.

"Still not gonna fight back, eh?" 'Pride' challenged, smirking.

"Nay, don't seem it," Emris shot back, grasping the lad’s hands as the knife plunged into his kidney was withdrawn. "Not against yer age, anyhow."

Emris managed to keep a keen eye on the kid, not backing down to his words for a second; not even to breathe. After a while, Pride closed his eyes with a sigh, removing the blade from his neck with a clack of his razor-sharp teeth.

"S'pose it can't be helped, eh? The old are wise, but not when it counts."

"Hey. Be fair, I'm doin' you a favour——" Emris tried to retort before getting his head slammed by the tire iron one of the thugs carried, forcing him to fall to his knees in agony.

The hooligan raised his tool once more, but Emris this time managed to catch it, twisting it from his grip before smashing his kneecap.

In spite of the action, 'Pride' had already turned his back to walk away, his hands holding his head with a musical whistle. Seeing him back away, the desperate mobster tried to intervene.

“You're leaving 'em?!" The feline asked precariously, trying to hide his anger.

“Yup. No point cutting that sucker up. Look at 'im," the boy turned, gesturing to the man who had already dropped three of the inexperienced fighters. "Shot, stabbed, smashed... Not even bleedin' no more. Guy ain’t normal, or worth the time," he noted, his hands couching his head once again as he marched on. "It'll do those guys some good to learn. Pain teaches, y'know."

As ‘Pride’ simply walked away from the scene, the bruised Cryptid stammered, his frustration growing as he finally yelled.

"You're just gonna back out? Just like that? Come on, Pride. We can tear him a new one——!" he pleaded, biting his tongue in anger. The boy turned to him one last time, flashing him a spine-rattling glare as he lowly rebutted.

"I oughta cut your lips off if ya're gonna mouth off to me after losing ya whole gang in a single night. You handle 'im."

Just like that, 'Pride' turned the corner and disappeared from view, leaving the deflated ocelot behind in a merciless display of disinterest. Finally turning to Emris, the Cryptid watched as he finished up the last of his backup, slamming a thug's body against the wall with a strength he knew too well. The blows of a skilled, magic-using martial artist.

Raising his head to lock eyes with the lonesome, mind-boggled thug, Emris took note of the fact his arms had dropped, his knees looking shaky as his face started to pale so badly it was noticeable through his fur.

"So that's just it, huh?" the beast muttered, finally dropping to his knees as every bit of confidence he held previously fizzled away. "Ain't no point tryin’, right? I've got nobody to fight with, and there's no way I'm beatin’ you. Finish it, then," the Cryptid spat, closing his eyes tightly as he braced for the end. As the man's footsteps echoed towards him, the beast began to shake increasingly for each approaching step. Seeing his very life flash before his eyes, his breathing hitched to the point his lungs were hardly receiving air.

Once the man stood inches in front of him, the beast suddenly looked up, unable to look away. His bloodshot eyes were met by surprise as he saw the murderer of his entire gang hold a pair of handcuffs up for him to see.

"Ye're comin' with me. C'mon, get up," Emris urged, his attitude nothing more than mildly irritated. Noticing the oversized gold-sprayed pistol tucked in his coat, as well as the folded switch-blade that once belonged to his ally clung to his belt, the beastly criminal finally realised exactly what the veteran thought of this entire ordeal: the destruction of the people he fought beside, the fight of vengeance he so arrogantly thought feasible, the half-assed assistance of his formidable-yet-slothful superior... all was nought but a game to the Brigadier, who had so effortlessly made a joke of his fellow gangsters.

With a maniacal chuckle, the feline stared up at the man—the human-looking man before him that had somehow managed to suppress the pain of being wounded to such an extent—with a face of anguish and confused spite.

"What are you?"

Shaking his head, Emris spoke simply. "I don't know, man. Yer judge? Boss? Guessin' ye could use some trainin'. How does dyin' for the Syndicate sound?" he asked sarcastically, offering him a hand. Looking at his palm, the criminal looked up at him once more with a raised brow.

"Sounds like shit."

"I know, right?"

“Why spare me?”

“Ah, for fun. Could use a new punchin’ bag,” Emris jested with a snort.

The man who had just undone his life’s work seemed awfully calm. Feeling as though the veteran would simply slip his hand and sing a tune on his way out, the Cryptid felt compelled to give in.

"...Fuck it," he uttered, taking the man's hand. He suddenly found a cuff had been locked around his wrist in a somewhat cruelly quick motion.

"Sorry, but ye’re still under arrest," Emris excused nonchalantly, taking his other hand to cuff, meeting a surprising lack of resistance from the criminal.

"You guys aren't cops. You know that, right?"

"Eh. Cops are all dyin' off anyhow. Somebody's gotta take over when that happens." Emris shrugged. "Now rest up."

Without warning, Emris pounded the back of the Cryptid's skull with just enough force to rob him out of consciousness, lifting his body onto his shoulders before escorting him through the city to the ex-criminal's future home. It must’ve been quite awkward for any passerby to see such, but it would be foolish to intervene in an officer’s work, especially as a civilian.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

"So..." Chloe asked, breaching the silence with caution. Tokken seemed to have relaxed his weary body into the grass quite nicely and, considering his still unfamiliar personality, she couldn't quite predict his behaviour when agitated. "If we're going to be grouped up for the time being, can I ask you what your goal is...?"

"Mine?" Tokken chuckled, his hand blindly finding her fur once more. "Depends on what goal you ask for. The kind I'm interested in, or the kind I seemingly have no choice with?"

Chloe stammered slightly, looking around to find an answer to his counter-query.

"I suppose... what you want?"

Opening his eyes to stare at the darkened skies above in thought, he took a few good seconds to respond.

"All I want is to live a good life. A decent life, where I can be care-free towards my environment. I want to bask in the greenest of air, in a cottage that isn't bound to crash at a moment's notice," Tokken explained, daydreaming as he raised his fingers towards the sky. "I'd rather not have any neighbours if possible. But if I had to, I'd wish for them to be kind, decent folk. People who, just as I would, lived off of the bounties of nature. They don't have to be samaritans, just trustworthy. Yeah... then I'd be fulfilled."

Tilting her head at his touch, Chloe smiled bashfully to his wishes. Calming down, she continued. "And what of the others? Are you a man of generosity, or do you prefer personal liberation?"

Tokken sniggered at her word choice, offering her a glance. "Liberation, huh? I suppose morals aren't entirely lost on me. Though, to whom I'd wish that freedom to seems limited these days," he admitted, looking away in slight shame at his thoughts.

"I don't blame you, I don’t think," Chloe replied, much to the lad's surprise. "I wouldn't be too happy with other people in your shoes. Your family... do you miss them? It must be so scary being so far away from them, not knowing how to... sorry, I'll shut up now." Chloe silenced herself, speaking way too much for her own good. To her surprise, she met a reaction—or rather lack thereof—from the boy.

"I don't know whether the shock simply hasn't set in yet, or if I really don't see the extent of care for their loss as I should. I've often found myself devastated more so for my lack of feelings towards their passing than their actual passing.”

"Well... did you not love them?" Chloe asked.

"That’s the thing, I think I did. I was pretty young when Mom and Dad left me," he replied, reminiscing.

"I'm sorry..." Chloe apologized, lowering her ears.

"You don't have to be. Besides… I can at least face the future with some support, now that I have the brave Chloe by my side," he cheered, breaking through her remorse with a giggle.

Laying down, the pair simply enjoyed the peace nature had to offer. While Chloe grew more and more drowsy on the relaxing grass bed, Tokken couldn't help but watch her fall asleep with a smile. He didn't know exactly what they would have to face in their future, but at the very least, he was confident he had a new reason to continue fighting for a better one. Perhaps he couldn't build the paradise he yearned for, but his accomplishments would be met in solitude no longer. The thought alone that somebody was willing to put their faith—their genuine, unbiased faith— into him, was reason enough to stand even when the winds were most turbulent.

With his thoughts freeing his concentration, he suddenly found himself sweating on the spot. Was it heat? Were the sun's final rays that bright? No, impossible. It was far too damp and cool to sweat from the heat. Was it nervousness? Unease?

Hearing the snap of a twig, Tokken felt his breath louden and hitch. It was as if instinct alone was screaming for help without any immediate threat. After a slow turn to the source of the noise, he found himself looking up at a tree.

Nothing but bark. Just bark and leaves. Bark, leaves, branches...

And a pair of green, luminescent eyes staring back at him.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

"——I don't suppose we know their point of entry?" the General of the Military, Kev, inquired.

"Nay. The patrol is yet to find any clues; the fiends. And at no good a time," Alpha, the Head of Men replied with a huff.

"Perhaps we can forge an alliance with them? Form a pact, like in Khorralege?" Fely, Head of Medicine, offered, raising a palm to his suggestion.

"Don't press yourself. Those bastards are done with us. It's not like them to wave white flags in the middle of a raid," assumed Hephaestus, Head of Arms.

"Aye... T'would seem our luck is running thin! General, how is the training regiment working?" Alpha asked, cautious.

To this, Kev merely shook his head. "While they show spirit, they're still too impulsive, sire. I'm confident we can get them set proper in time, but we may not have an abundance of such."

"How dreadful... Do you believe our forces outnumber them?" Fely asked, concerned.

"Goddess knows. Our fellow man spreads like wildfire, and Emris' recent approach wasn't too successful at uncovering any information," Kev relayed.

"We can at least say we ought to have the better half of the beasts of the land, but their numbers dwindle in comparison to that of human men," Alpha added.

The four leaders stood in the planning room, contemplating their approach regarding their second coming threat. In the middle of their ramblings, the doors to the room swung open as Emris entered, old blood coating his attire from his recent endeavours.

"Ah, speak of the devil and he may come," Alpha proclaimed, welcoming his old comrade.

"Aye, it's a wonder..." Emris chuckled, seating before them.

"I'm hoping you aren't here to bring us bad news. Is that blood yours?" Fely asked, surprisingly nonchalant.

"Some of it. Look, we got a problem. The fuckin' Urchins are havin’ a rave over a previous dispatch operation; weren't much trouble, but they planned an attack on me. Might've been for Corvus."

Raising a brow, Kev wondered: "And what makes you think it's anything more than a sting attack?"

"That's the thing. They brought one of the big ones of the group and I know they don't poke their heads out unless it's serious. They might be huntin' us down," Emris replied, agitated.

"Was it a familiar face?" Fely inquired, becoming nervous towards the prospect.

"Nay. Small kid, he was. Couldn't be too old."

Alpha hummed in doubt. "How could he be a higher class, then?"

"Combat ability. Kid's got some serious speed to him. Dual-wields, too."

"Great... More annoying kids," Hephaestus groaned, clutching his head.

"How fast are we talking?" Kev asked.

"Fast enough to stab me when his attack was most obvious," Emris revealed.

"That... is fast," Fely blurted, impressed.

With an acknowledging nod, Alpha raised his head. "So the Urchins be rearing their ugly mugs... Terrible choice for time, truly. I assume you caught wind of Yanksee's approach?"

"Yanksee? Nay," Emris shot down, to which Hephaestus gave a false laugh.

"You old dog, you. The bloody military doesn't need blind eyes and deaf ears!" the giant exclaimed, halted only by a silent gesture from the Head of Men.

"Now is nought the time to bicker. It seems the stars themselves have aligned rather inconveniently. And with the Crimsons advancing from the north... We have nay need for such turmoil at this time! Yanksies to the east, and now a threat among our own!?" Alpha, too, exclaimed.

"It was bound to happen, if ye ask me," Emris shrugged, huffing. "We've been askin' for it.”

Raising his head, Alpha looked at Emris with a mix of dissatisfaction and curiosity.

"I do hope you aren't pondering our actions to be unacceptable——" the Head of Men queried, before being interrupted as the doors swung open once more. A soldier, fully kitted in a grey version of the Syndicate's trademark astronaut-like armour—known as a Nynx suit—entered the office with a boy and a white-furred Howler in tow. While the soldier's expression was entirely concealed, the two next to it were panicked, panting after running a good distance.

"Guys—! Hah... we saw something outside…!" Tokken exclaimed between heavy breaths.

Hephaestus immediately dropped his face against the table as he saw the two, deciding that the surface of the wood was far more appealing to his eyes.

"Forgiveness, sires. These children insisted," the soldier explained.

"Admitted." Alpha nodded, the trooper bowing before leaving the room.

"Explain, kid," Emris pressured, his arm draped over the backrest of his seat.

"We saw something suspicious outside! It was in a tree!" Tokken urged; Chloe trying desperately to speak through her timidness. In all fairness, the men weren't the most approachable lot. Even the doctor seemed suspicious to her.

"Where?" Fely asked, feeling their urgency.

"Just outside, by the river!"

A few moments of silence passed as the group of elites stared at each other, excluding the dozing blacksmith, before Emris finally broke the silence.

"Likely just one of the sneakier Cryptids practicin'."

"It was watching us!"

"Prankster type, probably. Nobody's dumb enough to get that close to the building,” Kev insisted.

"It... it was so damn creepy! Goddess damn it! I want to find that gloomy green-eyed bastard!" Tokken yelled, feeling increasingly ashamed of his concerns. As the teenager continued to huff in place, he was about to ask around regarding a beast that met his descriptions when he realised the mood of the room had shifted.

Emris and Alpha had stood up and Hephaestus had raised his head in shock as they stared at the boy intently.

"Green eyes?" Emris asked, giving the lad a serious look.

"Uhm... yeah?"

"Did they glow...?" Fely questioned, troubled by the possibility.

"Vaguely."

"Weird shape?" Kev pressed on, dreading the likely answer.

"Yes, yes, yes! For Victus' sake, what is it?!" Chloe finally yelled out, frustrated at their vague caution.

At that, another wave of silence struck the room as the veterans plunged into deep thought. Emris, of all people, seemed to deflate in place. With a slow inhale, followed by a shaky exhale, the Brigadier shouted with booming irritation, causing the two youngsters, the doctor and even the blacksmith to flinch.

"Is the whole fuckin' world tryin’ to kill us?!"

"Indoor voices, Emris," Fely tried to calm, waving his hands in the air soothingly.

Ignoring his words, Emris demanded. "Kev, give me a gun."

"You're not facing them alone, Emris,” Kev asserted, imposing his status upon his subordinate.

"I'm not hurtin' a soul. I'm just sendin' a message," the Brigadier spat, barging out the room.

"Is anybody going to fill us in...?" Tokken asked, awkwardly raising a hand.

Sitting back down with a sigh, Alpha spoke. "Aye, sonny. The creature you likely saw was what we call Chameleons. Wretched-looking critters they be; Mother Victus' roughest draft. They thrive in damp, swampy areas, and they're avid yet timid hunters," he began, explaining. From the word 'timid', Chloe felt a slight bit of sympathy for them, sitting on her haunches as she concentrated.

"They're expert navigators. Bloody good climbers, too. But their main feature is their ability to perfectly mimic the appearance and voice of any they see and hear," Alpha continued.

"That's incredible! It's so unique——!" Chloe praised.

"Aye! Well, in truth, Emris can do something similar. He's just rubbish at discretion."

"Wh——"

"Nevertheless! Those creatures were taken in and tamed by this region's most significant rebel group. The infamous Forest Dwellers."

To this, Tokken couldn't help but wonder. "Rebel groups...?"

"Unfortunately, the Syndicate doesn't have the best reputation due to our previous generations. Sadly, even now it is somewhat tainted..." Fely revealed, honesty filling each word.

"I think we should let the boy off easy, Fely," Kev intervened, giving the doctor a careful glare.

"Yes, you're right. I apologize. Please forget what I said," the Head of Medicine requested, bowing to the teen and his companion.

"Uhm… Shouldn't I be worried about that?" Tokken asked, uneased.

"It's in the past now, sprout," Alpha tried to convince, his kingly voice deafening the two's ears.

Fely stood up, taking his documents with him as he walked towards the door. Facing away from his co-leaders, he excused himself.

"Forgive me, but I cannot in goodwill allow Emris to leave alone tonight. I wish not bear the thought that he will work himself to death.”

"I'll do myself the honour and clock out too. It's late. An old man needs his sleep, as you know," Hephaestus said, standing up with his belongings before waddling to the door. "Alpha, let’s talk tomorrow.”

Seeing the two leave, Kev couldn't stifle a sigh. "Sire."

"Aye?" Alpha responded.

"Should I attempt to eliminate the Yanksee injection? Perhaps if I can close off the source, they will hold off for now."

"Aye, please do. But keep your body safe, man. It's best we face our fate in unison. I refuse to stand idly by as they make waste of our great land," the Head of Men spoke sombrely with a strange determination. "In the next few suns, I’ll need our troops to train their gobs off. We cannot allow our enemy to pool in excessively, so we shall slow their advance with our frontier forces until the third moon. When the day comes, you'll report to me and rest. Understood?"

With a grimace to the thought of endangering the king-like noble in battle, the General hesitatingly accepted.

"Yes, sir. I——”

“It’s ‘aye’, mate,” Alpha corrected with a raised hand, giving the General a smile of humble mischief.

With a silent chortle, Kev nodded. “We’ll be sure to make haste of their training. They have enough time to learn a few tricks, at least. It's in my comrades' best interest that I remain level-headed. I shall rest. Good night, sire," the General wished, leaving the room to the three.

"Now then..." Alpha started, looking at the two silent youngsters who were seconds away from excusing themselves too. "Let us discuss at last, Mr. Tsuki."