Mordred’s strike of bad, no terrible, luck really started the day his mother died. The day she was found in a pool of her own blood was, coincidentally, exactly three years before the world went to shit, before lies were uncovered and before the war between species started. It was exactly three years before Mordred earned a permanent scar across his eye, before they met him and before they knew what Vizican’s were.

Exactly three years after his mother’s death, Mordred found himself in a battle against a sliver creature with eyes that threatened to pull out your darkest secrets. He left said battle with a wound across his eye and his hand within the man who he would view as a father for years to come; his biological one wasn’t here after all.

"People!" The father figure yelled into the crowd of people, earning their attention. Mordred gripped his hand tighter as all eyes were set on them. He tilted his head in confusion as to what was about to exit the man’s mouth, not knowing that it would change the course of history itself.

Your government has been lying to you. He has been keeping secrets, oh so horrible, life-threatening secrets, from you all, and today I am here to expose the monster for what he truly is."

Of course, this sparked a wave of emotions that spread throughout the crowd. Some were suspicious; this man had just come out of nowhere, after all. Some felt a sense of betrayal, while some screamed in anger or shook in fear.

"The creatures who have killed and injured so many of your kind are called Vizicans." Your government knew of their existence, of their danger, but failed to protect you all, failed to tell you the hard truth, which is that these beasts will not stop until every one of us is either dead or working beneath them. " Shocked gasps erupted as chatter started up again. Mordred hid further behind the man, grasping his hand tighter.

'This is scary,' he thought. 'I don’t like it.'

A tear began rolling down his cheek as his hand was stroked in a calming manner and the crowd stopped.

As the man was about to continue, an angry man with a blood-covered bat pushed through the crowd.

"He’s talking shit! He hasn’t even got any proof! There is no way he would’ve kept all of this away from us! "

The man put up his hand, signalling for the man to stop talking before pulling out a scroll and holding it up so the crowd could see.

"This is a drawing of the average Vizican made by the government himself. If that doesn’t convince you," he said, pulling out a tape, "then I’m sure this will." He said before pressing down on the button. The only sound that could be heard was the recording playing back.

"These Vizicans are sure to become an issue, sir." Are you sure you don’t want to tell-"

For the last time, yes, I’m sure! A voice yelled, clearly the government's

"But sir,"

"When the time comes, they will know until then-" And the tape was cut off.

The audience began screaming in anger as the suited man said that he was sorry that they had to find out in that way before walking away with Mordred in tow.

"Did he really say all that?" Mordred asked in a shy tone as he walked down the alleyway.

"Sadly, yes, he did Mordred."

"O-oh."

There was silence between the pair for a while until they stopped the old man from crouching down to Mordred.

"I’m sorry I didn’t quite get a chance to introduce myself through all the chaos. I’m Aiden. Who are you? " He said in a kind tone.

"M-mordred, but you can call me Mort if you want."

"What a lovely name." He praised before standing up.

"Mr. Aiden?" Mordred questioned

"It's just Aiden, but yes, Mort." The man said through a chuckle.

"Where are my siblings and friends? I want to see Ryder! " He asked in a slightly louder, more protective tone as tears rimmed his eyes.

"I can take you to them Mort." He said, crouching down and wiping the tear from his eye.

"O-okay. You promise?"

"Promise." He said, holding out his pinkie, and Mordred returned the gesture.

After a few more minutes of walking, the duo reached what seemed like a dead end. Confused, Mordred opened his mouth to speak, only for a secret door to slide open.

"Woah!" He said it in amazement, excitement in his eyes as he was led into the place he would call home for years to come.

A man stood on a polished and well-presented podium, looking down on those who saw him as a saviour sent to rescue them from the depths of hell they were in. His eyes scattered across the crowd, smirking as he began to wave in response to the excited screams that erupted from the people before him. He then straightened his tie and stepped further forward with care, raising his finger over his lips, hoping to shush everyone. Five others stood behind him, faces stone cold and guns drawn in a protective manner, ready to move and pounce if needed.

Among the five stood Mordred's Stone. The boy had short, curled brown hair that reached just past his ears and wandering eyes; his right one was brown as oak, while his left one was blue as the sky, with an old scar cutting through it. He fiddled with his hands in front of him, nervous energy surrounding him; it was his first time on official business, after all. He continued looking forward nervously as a voice boomed through the air.

"As you all know by now," the suited man stated, "we are slowly but surely beginning to take care of the Vizicans that haunt our land, but for this to continue, the SDU requires your help."

Quiet chatter sounded out as the man shushed the crowd yet again.

"We are so sorry to ask during these pressing times, but more money than the SDU owns is needed to rid us of these beasts, so we are asking you to donate us some of your savings. We will use this efficiently and the funds will go towards providing the SDU agents with weapons, basic needs, and a new base." He announced it in a sorrowful, empathetic tone. The people within the huddle of citizens shared murmurs with each other, but most agreed, the others who didn’t being for reasons like being poor or having a sick relative. He smiled and thanked them for his generosity before picking up his radio from his pocket and saying something into it. Within a few seconds, high-tech bots surrounded the area. They stuck out like a sore thumb among the dirt and dust littering the area and the houses dressed in cobwebs and ancient materials.

Suddenly, a man covered in tattoos stomped forward, shoving through the crowd to make it to the front with an expression full of anger on his face.

"What bullshit! My daughter got killed by one of those beasts. It tore her limb from limb! I yelled and yelled for help, but nobody came! I can’t believe that all you are worried about is money. If you need more, why not get rid of those stupid robots?" He yelled, tears pooling out of his eyes. He had a gun raised and was aimed at the suited man, his finger just barely touching the trigger. Mordred heard a sigh from next to him as the agent next to him stepped forward and shoved him onto the rock-hard ground, stepping on him behind and hitting him with his gun. This made the crowd that was around him scatter in fear as they chucked their money over to the robots before hurrying away into the distance.

Another agent joined the angry one, who was now in the middle of tightening the handcuffs on the man while the other two surrounded the suited man, leading him to a safer area. Mordred looked around both in fear and confusion as the three sank into the crowd. He gulped, slightly overwhelmed, before rushing to catch up as they turned into an alleyway. Eventually, he was walking behind his boss through a series of tunnels, gaining unapproved stares from the two other agents and his boss, which sent shivers down his spine.

"Arthur, Ben, will you leave me and Mordred alone for a moment?" said the man in a tone that stated that this wasn’t really a question but rather a demand to be carried out in a quick fashion, which it was, but not without disappointed stares being cast Mordred’s way.

"Mordred, we went through the protocol. If someone other than an SDU agent has a weapon of any type, then you escort me out."

"I know, sir, it just slipped my mind."

Pain erupted from his cheek as Mordred screwed his eyes shut, tears dripping from them.

"I could’ve been dead because of your stupid mistake."

"I’m sorry I-" More pain.

All the ten-year-old could feel for the next few minutes was the burning sensation that pain brought, but when he was shoved out of the office, he felt something else: relief.

‘Its over.’ He thought as a small sad and pained smile appeared on his face.

Despite knowing that Aiden only did that to help him, he still hated it, but never complained. It was only to help him, after all.

"Pain brings order. Now where would we be without order, huh Mordred? " Aiden had said to him a long time ago as he whipped him with his fist before shoving him to the ground with the sweet taste of blood engrained into his tastebuds.

Pain brought order. Mordred knew that, yet he still hated it.

The ten-year-old sighed as he brought up his hand to wipe a loose tear as he opened the door to the storage cupboard full of weapons.

‘I need to improve.’ He thought as he pulled out a box of weapons and scrolls. He picked up the scroll, including the protocol he failed to follow that day while bringing out a knife too. He returned the knife before walking to the training wall and sticking the paper to the wall at a readable height.

"Protocol 57," he said, swinging the blade, "when someone who does not work for the SDU arms a weapon, evacuate any agents who are of a higher rank than you are immediately."

He continued the ritual of talking and striking until his voice had gone hoarse and his muscles were in pain. As he took down the poster, a familiar hand ruffled his hair, whispering "well done" to him as he packed away. A small smile appeared on Mordred’s face as he began to feel a sense of pride towards himself.

"Thanks Aiden." He said it as clearly as he could before walking off feeling accomplished.