Mon jumps down from her bunk and rushes towards Crimson, bear hugging him as she does.

“You’re alive! I was scared she just finished you off,” She says, dropping Crimson since he began squirming from the lack of oxygen. “What happened to your eyes? Why is one Amber…?”

Crimson quickly looks away from Mon, releasing her from his gaze. He covers his one unblocked eye as he looks for his sunglasses. After a few seconds of looking a hand prods him in the back.

“Looking for these, pirate boy?” Echo says with a soft grin.

“Thanks,” He responds as he places the glasses over his eyes, removing the patch as he does. “I was scared I lost another pair.”

Echo waves away the worry and sits back on her bunk. A few seconds later Deidra enters the room, her thoughts still on why Crimson left in a huff. Before she can ask Crimson snaps his finger, getting everyone’s attention.

“What color are my eyes?” He asks suddenly. “Just look for a second and I’ll break eye contact to let you go, I just need to know your answers.”

Each of them shrug in agreement.

“Amber and grey.” Deidra confirms.

“Amber and purple,” Mon says, “I can’t believe I never noticed we had the same eye color…Can I make my eye amber too, then we can match!”

“Amber and green,” Echo answers.

Crimson sits on his bunk with his head sitting on steepled hands.

“My eyes are hazel,” He says, a slight sadness in his voice. “Why is everyone seeing it differently?”

Everyone falls quiet at the question, until Echo speaks up.

“Perhaps it’s part of your mutation? She suggests. “What if something else changed along with your eye? Maybe it’s making us see you differently.”

“No, this wasn’t a recent change,” Deidra interrupts. “This was just the first time we’ve noticed it.”

“So it must have happened after you drank the lunypna right? Wait, why do we all see the amber then?” Mon asks suddenly. “Wouldn’t that be different for us too?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s how they repaired the eye?” Crimson suggests. “My hypnotism works fine though.”

The team thinks for a second, each of them searching their minds for an answer. After a few moments, Mon’s tail begins dancing in her field of view, her feline eyes following it in detail. Crimson stares at it for a moment, until an idea hits him like Fey’s punch.

“You all saw your own eye colors…” He says. “Maybe it’s something with how the eye healed that changed the way you all saw it, but the eye that wasn’t damaged stayed the same. It must be a part of the mutation. That isn’t impossible.”

“Mutations can react differently with each person, there’s no guarantee it’ll be the same for everyone,” Echo confirms. “Its possible something about you just change how it work, or maybe how the eye healed.”

“But that doesn’t show why Fey didn’t see her own eye color,” Crimson says. “Mon, does Fey have any mutations for her eyes? I don’t need details, just a yes or no.”

Mon thinks for a moment, her tail serving to distract her until Echo snaps her out of it.

“Yes, but if that is the problem then why isn’t it happening to me too?” She says. “I have a mutation for my eyes.”

“Yes, but you aren’t resistant to my hypnosis like she is,” Crimson rebuttals. “Maybe her mutation is stronger, or just different in some way.”

“If I had to guess it has something to do with that glow her eyes did when she was talking,” Deidra guesses. “That seemed like a pretty powerful mutation.”

At the mention of Fey’s actions, Mon’s tail stops its relaxed wagging. It instead goes rigid and slinks back behind her.

“Look if it doesn’t affect your ability to fight then it doesn’t matter, we’ll just have to be careful not to rely on your ability since some people may be immune,” She says curtly. “Don’t bring attention to it and people won’t know the difference, especially with those glasses on. We only have two weeks so let’s not waste any more time on this.”

Without another word Mon slides into her bunk and covers herself, not bothering to say anything else. Echo follows her example but mouths a good night before getting in her own bunk. Deidra looks at Crimson and shrugs before climbing into her bunk as well, leaving Crimson to think about his situation on his own. His only companion being the chandelier hanging above him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crimson trudges down the steps, his body aching from the weeks of training. He takes a deep breath of the forges incensed air and begins looking for Echo. After a few minutes of looking, he finds the dark skinned girl hammering away at a piece of metal. She’s wearing nothing but a pair of leather forging pants and a white tank top. Her hammering is causing more than enough sparks to burn her but as they hit her skin they simply fizzle out, Echo giving no indication of even noticing their existence.

Not wanting to interrupt, mainly due to her hitting him with a hot piece of metal last time he did, he sits on the bench behind her, opting to watch her work. After a few minutes she sets the metal into a cooling trough and turns around, only to jab him in the nose out of fright.

“Ah! Oh, it’s you,” She says in relief, until she notices Crimson’s now bleeding nose. “Uh I’m sorry?”

She tries to help but is shooed away by Crimson who holds his shirt over his nose.

“Don’t worry,” He says with a chuckle. “A little extra blood on this shirt won’t matter.”

Dabbing the rest of the blood out of his nose, Crimson stands from the bench and walks towards Echo’s forge.

“How is the gear coming along?” He asks. “Hopefully punching me was the least productive thing you’ve done today.”

“You know now that I think about it…” Echo jokes as a smirk surfaces on her face.

“Har har,” Crimson says sarcastically. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense…what do you have done?”

Echo nods and walks towards the cooling trough she used before she bloodied Crimson’s nose. She reaches her hand into it and pulls out the handle of a bow. She hands it to Crimson with the intention of letting him inspect it but quickly pulls back as he grimaces in pain.

“That is a little hot,” Crimson says as he clenches his heated hands. “Maybe a warning next time.”

“Sorry, kind of forgot,” Echo says as she cools the weapon a bit more then hands it back to Crimson. “I can forget others aren’t used to heat like me.”

“No worries, though if you hurt me further there might be some,” Crimson says as he examines the string less bow. “This more than makes up for it, what is it even made out of? Never seen metal that can bend like this.”

“It’s a mix of nitinol and tungsten, pretty heavy and a struggle to pull but it hits like a Stena weapon should,” Echo explains. “The weight shouldn’t be a problem but you won’t be able to get the full draw without some muscle mutations. Lucky for you the string will be using arasonia webbing, which should allow you to fire arrows at half draw until you put on some muscle.”

Crimson smiles at his new bow like a kid would a new toy. The standard recurve look giving him a hit of nostalgia. The most striking part was the lack of sheen on the dark metal. Its entire body was nearly pitch black, reflecting no light from the surrounding forges. The only instance of color being the amber trimming along the edges of the bow.

“Thanks, it looks amazing,” Crimson says in awe. “How is everyone else’s going?”

“The rest was easy, I got some upgraded bucklers, Mon got a better chest piece that covered her back, and all I had to do was adjust Deidra’s armor,” Echo says, waving away his compliment. “She also needed a better sword and shield after the last ones got a close encounter with the berve, but it didn’t take long.”

“You talk about master craftsmanship like it’s a hobby,” Crimson chuckles. “But I won’t argue with the results.”

Echo nods her head in satisfaction but she suddenly yips in surprise as she turns back towards the forge. She grabs at another piece of equipment in the forge and pulls it out bare handed. She quickly dips both the piece of equipment and her hands into the trough. She lets it go and pulls out her steaming hands, shaking them in pain.

“Holy Hell that hurt!” She says as she dries her hands on her pants. “No lasting damage and I think I saved the piece, so worth it I say.”

“That was terrifying to watch,” Crimson says as he stares at Echo’s only slightly burnt hands. “That should heal before we have to leave right?”

Echo nods as she examines her hands. She then dips them back into the cooling trough and picks up the piece that burnt her hands.

“This is your new armor, well part of it,” She says with a big grin. “My favorite part at least.”

Crimson stares at the cloak like armament she is holding. It sports a hood and the design was clearly adapted from a hunting hood. The only thing separating it from a standard cloak is the green and slightly red coloration. As well as the metallic lining sewn in throughout the cloak.

“What is it?” Crimson asks in confusion. “A new cloak, do we count that as armor?”

Echo looks at him in disdain and she puts the cloak around herself and puts the cape of it in between herself and Crimson.

“Stab it.” She says with a grin.

Knowing better than to question anything at this point, Crimson shrugs as he takes Fey’s knife out of his boot. He primes a stab and lunges into Echo. Instead of piercing through the cloak and injuring Echo, the cloak refuses to be punctured and the most Echo feels is a slight jab in her stomach.

“This is a hunting cloak made of an igun and qeret skin mesh, with a bit of nitinol lining,” Echo says proudly. “Qerets are like fish things that live in geothermal lakes, makes this thing more than a little fireproof. Oh and the igun skin is really resistant to acids, and puncture…obviously. Oh, put it up to your face!”

Crimson does as she says and watches as the cloak shifts colors to match his tanned skin.

“That…is really, really, really cool,” Crimson says with a growing smile. “How does it do that?”

“It’s the igun-qeret skin mesh. The qeret skin keeps enough moisture and blood in the skin to allow the igun skin’s natural color shifting to continue,” Echo explains. “I had to get the skin fresh but it was well worth…do not ruin it.”

“You continue to surprise me, though it is unsettling its full of blood,” He says. “I assume the only concern is blunt force?”

Echo nods, placing the cloak back into the water as well as grabbing the bow from Crimson and doing the same to it.

“I like to think of it as a ‘lining’ of blood. Anyway, I’ll have some other armor for you but it isn’t done. You’ll get to see everyone’s new getup in a couple days,” Echo says as she wipes sweat from her brow. “I’m going to get back to it. Do yourself a favor and don’t sneak up on me again.”

“I didn’t even sneak up on you.” Crimson says as he begins scaling the stairs out of the forge.

Almost immediately upon exiting the forge Crimson ducks a flying Mon. He looks over to see where she landed to see her stand up from her lunging position.

“Ah, why does everyone duck now?” She says with a pout. “It’s not fun when you do that.”

“Probably because we don’t want to get tackled,” Crimson says as he walks up to her. “That’s my guess at least. Did you need something, or did you just feel like attacking me?”

“Have you seen Echo? She told me she’d show me some of the new gear she just finished.” Mon asks.

Crimson points down into the forge, then towards his bloodied shirt. Mon nods in understanding.

“Guess I shouldn’t bother her then,” Mon admits with a sad frown. “Do you want to do something then? I’m really bored.”

“Sure,” Crimson says. “How about lunch? I haven’t eaten yet.”

As expected, Mon’s eyes light up at the mention of food. She turns and begins heading up the spiral stair case, only turning around to usher Crimson faster up them. Eventually they’re sitting in the canteen, with Crimson eating an average meal of chicken and beef rice and Mon having seven or so plates of food.

“Any reason as to why you eat so much?” Crimson asks. “If you don’t mind telling me that is.”

Mon nods her head hurriedly and goes to speak, just for the food she had in her mouth to stop her. She quickly swallows, clearing her throat and drinking some of the milk she had gotten as well.

The production of milk in this place continued to confuse Crimson, he had never seen a cow throughout the whole month and yet Mon always seemed to have milk on hand.

“Hullo? Are you even listening!” Screams Mon at the daydreaming Crimson. “So rude.”

“Sorry, was thinking of something,” Crimson admits. “Can you say it again please?”

Mon huffs in annoyance. Her tail, which is now holding onto her milk, is swaying side to side in annoyance as well.

“Fine,” She relents. “My mutations increase the amount of adrenaline my body produces, which consumes a lot of food, which means I have to eat a lot. Why did you want to know?”

“Your figure, you haven’t gained any fat despite you eating what is essentially a full buffet every meal,” Crimson explains. “It just piqued my interest.”

“You know its rude to comment on a woman’s figure,” Mon says with a pout. “You never make fun of Echo’s and Deidra’s.”

“One, you know that wasn’t an insult. Two, neither of them eat half of what you do so my question is valid. Three, don’t act like you actually care about what others think about what you look like,” Crimson lists off. “I actually hesitate to call you a woman sometimes, you’re more like a very independent housecat.”

Mon jumps up to retaliate but slowly sits back down as she thinks over his words, eventually slumping back into her chair.

“That was mean,” She says while nodding. “But not entirely false. It was still mean.”

“I’ve literally found you curled up on Echo’s chest while she was sleeping.” Crimson snickers, leaning back into his chair as he laughs.

“It was cold!” Mon retorts. “And she’s like a campfire you can hug, you can’t blame me for wanting to be warm!”

Crimson raises his hands in surrender as he continues to laugh hysterically. Eventually calming down as Mon returns to her multiple plates of food. Crimson finishes his plate and turns around from the table, handing it to a waiting janitor. As he does he catches many of the other Stena initiates staring at them, even some of the older members sneaking glances. He sits back down and turns back to Mon, just to see her tearing into yet another plate of food.

“Have you noticed everyone looking at us?” He asks. “Has this happened every time we eat here or what?”

“It started happening sometime around when we became the ‘Hounds of Stena’,” Mon informs. “Fey says they’re one of three things, scared, jealous, or if they’re smart…happy.”

“Why would they be happy?” Crimson asks.

“Because they weren’t the ones that were picked.” Mon answers with more food in her mouth.

Crimson turns and looks around, each person he makes eye contact with either looking away immediately or shaking their head when he does. One even giving him a solemn looking salute.

“We’re screwed aren’t we?” Crimson asks. “I mean if Fey was the only one to survive her time as a Dog of Stena, how much of a chance do we have?”

“From what I know, Fey wasn’t the only one out of her team to survive their time in our situation,” Mon reveals. “Unless I’m mistaken two others survived with her, but they still had a full team. She also said the person who inducted her died during that time as well.”

“So yeah, we’re pretty screwed.” Crimson sighs.

“We have a former ‘Hound’ guiding us, not to mention she can influence the missions we get,” Mon says. “I think we have a better chance than most, so don’t give up on it yet. Plus, ‘Hounds’ can get infinite refills so I think we got the better deal.”

“Are we just calling ourselves ‘Hounds’ now?” Crimson asks. “And is there anything you wouldn’t do for food?”

“Better than having to constantly say ‘Hounds of Stena’ right?” Mon answers. “And no, food is life and there are few things I wouldn’t do for life.”

“I can drink to that.” Crimson says.

Crimson reaches towards his drink just to find nothing but air. He looks back up to Mon and sees her chugging a separate mug other than her own. She looks at him, looks at the mug, and then shrugs as she finishes the drink.

“Totally wasn’t drinking that,” He says. “Help yourself.”

Mon nods happily as she places the empty mug atop her pile of plates and hands them over to another janitor. The janitor only slightly struggling to carry them all back to the kitchen.

“This was fun,” She says as she jumps up. “But I have to go find Fey, then hopefully Echo will be ready to show me all the cool stuff.”

Mon waves goodbye as she ascends, more like climbs the spiral staircase. Crimson waves back and stands from the table. He looks up at the clock on the wall to see he spent nearly three hours at lunch, too bad Mon doesn’t have a mutation for eating faster.