No subject

Kuno was the first to respond, with a stately but polite cough.

Mousse said nothing.

"A few days ago, I cleared out a shrine that many would say was infested
with demons. The truth wasn't so cut and dry," India Squad's lieutenant
replied. "I've seen and heard a lot of strange things, but what you're
implying... I'm not saying you're lying, Miss, but memories can be
implanted. Entire lives faked. You'll have to forgive my skepticism."

Ryouga scowled darkly at the older him. "Like we need you to point out
that fact! Trust me, I've dealt with that, and I know what's real and
what's not."

The violet haired Titan, on the other hand, nodded.

"Normally, I would entertain your theory," Raven replied. "But consider
the enormity of the task of which you are speaking.  Certainly, you
might be able to alter the mind of a person to fit certain situations,
but it would be both utterly impractical and unproductive to create my
life story from whole cloth.  Only a complete lunatic would be able to
imagine even our most recent adventures, let alone going all the way
back to the beginning."

"Feh, more likely it's you guys with the fake memories," Ryouga
muttered.  "Alien abductions?  Men in black?  Sounds like you guys got a
tape of the X-Files stuck in your head."

"A month back," Mousse said, frowning. "We hit a UFO... there was a
woman in a tank, still wet from growth fluids, who swore she had a
family and children. She even said, 'I went through child birth! My
memories aren't fake!' ... of course they were. She was a fabrication.
What you think you know is irrelevant. Our own psychics will find the
truth."

"Exactly," Hibiki agreed. "No infiltrator ever admits to being what they
are. Every one swears they're real. That everyone else is wrong, not
them."

Outside, the van pulled up to a reinforced chain fence, stopping briefly
to confirm its clearance before entering the compound beyond. A sign
nearby displayed the location: Chitose Air Base. JASDF soldiers in
fatigues guarded the perimeter and security personnel quickly checked
the vehicle before waving it through and giving the all clear. A steel
barricade blocking the road retracted, and the black van continued on
into the air base.

Eventually, it slowed and pulled into an empty hangar.

The tiny black van stood in rather stark contrast to the massive hangar,
large enough to house a wing of fighter jets. There were already more
than a few military police and other armed men on duty, having been
mustered to assist in the containment scenario. A large plastic
enclosure sat in the center of the building, a short distance from the
parked van.

The doors opened, and five figures filed out.

"Let me explain what's going to happen." Hibiki stepped out ahead of the
two captives, Mousse and Kuno behind them. "You are both to remain here,
in isolation, until I clear transport to an intermediate facility. If
you need anything, you will ask one of the three of us, who will bring
it to me. You will not leave. You do not get a phone call or a lawyer.
Until proven otherwise, you are non-human enemy combatants. I expect we
will only be here for a couple hours but it may be longer."

As the two targets went off to their containment tents, the lieutenant
watched them go with a mixture of suspicion and hope. Mostly the former.
The girl's powers were highly unusual, even if she was human and not
some sort of alien spy. The other him was a bit of a brat, but probably
still a clone. If Command kept him alive after this, then what? Would he
be a Hibiki? Part of the family?

The thought was kind of galling.

Then he remembered "Yoiko" Hibiki and shuddered.

On second thought: it could be worse.

- - -

"This is bullshit!"

Fielding wasn't taking the news well. Not that she felt much better
about the bureaucratic stonewalling, but Christianson could see the
writing on the wall. Their perp had been sequestered away into 'special
custody' without a normal interrogation. They'd barely had time to read
him his Miranda rights and get him back to holding when the specialist
techs took custody. The chief had gone along with it, saying that the
orders came from the highest levels.

They were actively interfering in a police investigation now, which
raised some interesting possibilities given the nature of their subject.
The mystery man they'd brought in was using cybernetics and reconstructs
like nothing she had ever seen before. Was he some kind of spy? If one
of the consulates had raised a stink that would explain why they'd been
told to back off on him. Was he some kind of escaped military...
experiment or something? She'd never put much stock in that kind of
stuff before, but now, maybe it was at least possible.

And the answers were just within reach, too!

She was sorely tempted to do something... rash.

Instead, she tried to repress the theories and hypotheticals that ran
through her mind, a mile a minute. It did little to relieve her growing
sense of frustration. She and Fielding had chased this guy through a
third of New York City and now they couldn't even properly question him?
It really was bullshit. So what if he was some kind of reconstruct
addict with supped-up mods? This was still their jurisdiction.

Watching Fielding stalk off, she stewed with her thoughts for a few
minutes before getting up and heading back to the holding cells. She
couldn't officially interrogate him, but at least she could put some of
her curiosity to rest.  The chief had the entire rear area under
lockdown; with the other prisoners moved out to prevent a panic.
Bluffing her way past the men on duty was easier said than done, but
none were taking the stand-by orders and jurisdictional screw-up well.
The Feds just had to be their usual heavy handed selves, even here.

Christianson found their mystery man, still unnamed, sitting alone in a
holding cell. Given the man's obvious strength and augmentations, there
was little point in normal restraints. Hell, he could probably have
broken out of the cell bare handed, and then there was that weapon
modification on his arm... no one was exactly sure what to do about
that. Except to post guards on him around the clock, for what good that
would do.

At the moment, the perp appeared to be fiddling around with a small
computer embedded in his right arm. That was something else they
probably shouldn't be letting him do, but how to stop him?  After a few
moments, though, he looked up, apparently finally noticing her for the
first time.

"Oh, hey there.  I was wondering when you guys were gonna finally talk
to me.  I was starting to think something weird was going on; cops don't
usually wait so long for interrogations."

"Apparently, we're not allowed to talk to you 'on the record.' I think
there's some kind of legal confusion going on," she then dared to ask,
already skirting the rules. "You wouldn't know anything about that,
would you?"

He shrugged.  "Not particularly.  All I know is that you guys started
tracking me down before I even did anything.  I'm a bit curious about
what's going on here.  How did you guys even get on my trail in the
first place?"

"You damaged public property and attempted to hijack the phone network."

Cyborg shook his head.  "No, no, there's no way you would have just
stumbled across that.  I saw the phone booths in this city.  Half of
them were being used regularly as urinals. Am I supposed to believe that
some super observant cop just happened to notice a cracked phone case
and instantly assumed 'Hey, someone is trying to hijack the phone
line!'?"

He stared at her flatly.  "If you ain't got no real answers for me, then
don't expect any in return."

"We got a tip on the damage done to the phone," she explained, guessing
it wouldn't hurt. They didn't have the exact details of where the tip
came from anyway. It wasn't hard to make an educated guess, though.
"Probably thanks to a sharp eyed citizen. We'd assumed it was some
terrorist putting C4 or some other explosive inside. You're not as
smooth an operator as you seem to think, 'Mister Bond.'"

"Heh, I was right, this place is crazy paranoid. A 'sharp eyed citizen'
that actually cares about payphones?  I'm surprised you guys just don't
have big brother cameras all over the place."

"You're confusing us with London."

No, the cybernetic teen wasn't buying it.  He'd lived in neighborhoods
like this one; a guy could be wailing on a phone booth with a baseball
bat and people wouldn't bother to call the cops.  And 'terrorists'?
Inside one of the largest cities here in the US? Impossible. Plus, what
kind of person sees someone vandalizing a phone booth and automatically
assumes they're planting a bomb?

What?  Was he part of an evil conspiracy to blow up homeless people?  No
one else used phone booths anymore, except for crazies like himself.
Something wasn't right here, but he knew he wasn't going to be getting
any straight answers here now.

So, instead he shrugged nonchalantly. "Smooth enough to just walk away
from that little stake-out of yours.  How long was your man waiting
there? All night?"

"We got the evidence we needed," she said, instead. "You know, I'd kind
of suspected you were using reconstructs, but nothing like all this."
She pointed at the strange glowing blue metal and plastic that covered
parts of his body. "Those aren't medical replacements. More like
something out of Robocop. I suppose I should thank you for not putting
up more of a fight, though. Bringing in the National Guard or Army or
something for just one man would have been a bit embarrassing."

"Actually," Cyborg corrected her, "Most of them are medical
replacements.  I've made a few upgrades myself over time, but that was
the original intent completely." He then smirked, looking far too amused
with himself.  "And no problem on the last bit.  I doubt even I could
take out the entire army ... well, reasonably sure, anyway."

Still, this cop knew about Robocop, eh?  Some classics were just too
good to not be made, he supposed, no matter the dimension.  Glancing at
her out of the corner of his eye, he absently asked.

"... So ... Trek or Wars?"

"Including the Prequels?"

Cyborg recoiled in horror.  "No! Say it ain't so! GL didn't make them
here, too, did he!?"

"Of course he did. Well, if 'by here' you mean out west in California I
think?" A bit confused by the 'make them here' question, she brushed it
off as an obvious misunderstanding. "Definitely the original three Wars.
I guess it's no surprise where your tastes lie, what with the BFG in
your arm and the hacking into satellites."

The cybernetic teen clucked his tongue disapprovingly.  "A Jedi wannabe,
eh?  And here I thought we might be able to be friends.  Guess I'm just
more of a fan of the science then the fiction."

"Guilty as charged," Christianson replied with a shrug. "But I was never
the Jedi type. I'm more of a bounty hunter at heart. Shame we don't have
any carbonite around."

"Gah, no!" Cyborg moaned.  "I get enough of this Star Wars fanboyism
from Raven and B.B."

Waving his hands in a vain attempt to disrupt the odious conversation,
he tried to change the topic.  "Can't you just torture me, or something?
Anything but another Versus debate!"

"There's no point. I can't question you without your lawyer present, so
nothing is admissible in court, no matter what crazy stuff you blurt
out." She leaned a bit closer to the cell, frowning a bit. "Not that I'm
not curious. This is kind of like something out of the X-Files. I don't
know where you're from or what kind of trouble you were planning to
cause, but I can guess you'll be taken off my hands soon enough."

The bulky teen nodded.  "Well, you are right that you have no idea what
kind of trouble I was planning.  There isn't much point in me trying to
explain, since you wouldn't believe me anyway.  Let's just say that this
situation isn't what it looks like from any angle."

"Really?" she asked, dubiously. "Not another 'not guilty' plea? I saw
you tampering with private property with my own two eyes."

Cyborg chuckled to himself.  "Sure, if you wanna be all nit-picky about
it.  You're assuming I'm some kinda terrorist, though, so you got it in
your head that I was trying to do something ... uh - terroristy.  Like
you said, though, if that's the assumption, then there isn't much point
in trying to convince you otherwise, since higher ups are gonna be
coming to take me away soon enough."

"I suppose you're right," she decided, taking a step back. "Before I go,
mind if I ask what your name is? Since my partner and I have just been
calling you John Doe till now."

He offered her a wry grin.

"You can call me Cyborg."

"More original than Steve Austin, I guess..." She started to walk off,
but added before she did, "Victoria Christianson. Don't try anything
funny until the Feds pick you up. You may be invulnerable, but I know
your weakness. Trekkie."

Cyborg sighed to himself and set up another game of Tetris up on his
arm.  They'd sure left him to stew for a heck of a long time.  Even that
brief little 'unsolicited visit' hadn't done much to deal with his
boredom.  When was something going to happen?  He was getting tempted to
just walk through the wall and get back to work to contact his friends -

Moments into entertaining that thought, he heard footsteps.

Half expecting the return of Officer Christianson, Cyborg saw the new
arrival, or arrivals rather, were a group of black-suits. At their head
was a man with a light grey tie and neatly trimmed beard. His associates
included an African American woman who could well have been a ringer for
a taller and older Bumblebee and a clean shaven young man in his late
twenties. They were obviously Feds, and the head of the trio spoke
quickly with the police on duty, quickly dismissing them.

As the police filed out, he nodded to the woman to his right.

Cyborg's vision flashed with a moment's static, as some sort of wide
range jamming signal blanketed the EM spectrum. Lights flickered and
digital cameras and phones powered down as their batteries inexplicably
lost charge. For Cyborg, the inconvenience was more personal though much
less debilitating. It was simply putting more of a strain on his
internal batteries and interfering with radio signal reception.

"That should give us some privacy," the man with the beard said, his two
aides taking a few steps back from the cell. "My name is Agent Strauss,
and these are Agents Clarke and Gerrera. I assume you know why the
police were after you."

"Heh, funny you should mention that," Cyborg deadpanned, "As there was
actually some debate about that.  I'm totally not buying their 'well
intentioned citizen noticed me messing with the phone booth and called
it in' story.  Maybe you guys know a bit more?"

"We do. I'm sure if you think about it, you'll realize it, too," he
evasively replied, and picked out a small object in a plastic bag from
his coat jacket. "Before all that, though, we need to talk about your
technology and what you're doing here. If you cooperate, maybe we can
help each other."

The cybernetic teen tilted his head to the side, interested.  "Help me,
eh?  Considering you guys seem to think I'm a terrorist, that seems like
a bit of an odd offer. You gonna help me blow up the homeless or
something?"

"Don't be asinine. Based on the damage done and equipment used, you were
breaking into global communications networks to contact someone or
something." Straus, unlike Christianson, seemed to be fairly humorless.
"Depending on what that something is, we may be able to work with you."

Leaning back on his bench, Cyborg folded his hands behind his head.

"Clever boys... uh - and girl," he replied. "Wasn't like I was trying to
hide it, or anything, but no one else around these parts seemed to be
able to catch onto the obvious yet."

Humming to himself for a second, Cyborg nodded to himself.  "Alright
then, if I cooperate, what kinda help do you think you can give, then?"

"You don't have a lot of options," Strauss assured. "Once we've
investigated your intentions, my superiors will make a decision."

Opening the cell door, Agent Gerrera entered the room with a metallic
trimmed briefcase. Agent Clarke was right behind him, and when he
snapped open the case, she retrieved a set of metallic clasps, tinted a
silvery shade of aluminum.

"Sir, what about...?" she asked, motioning to the side of her face.

"Better not chance it," Strauss decided. "We don't know the full extent
of his cybernetics yet."

She nodded and faced Cyborg. "Please cross your wrists either in front
or in back."

"We're not going to keep you here in the open any longer than we need
to," Strauss explained in near monotone. "We can talk more once you're
at a secure site and we know who you were trying to contact."

Cyborg quirked an eyebrow at the handcuffs, but shrugged and crossed his
hands in front of him, regardless.  "Well, you're doing a good job of
winning me over so far.  So where ya taking me then, that's more secure
than an NYPD holding cell?"

"I'd say Area 51... or something like that, but I'd be joking."
Completely humorless. Who even tried to joke with a droll voice like
that? "Naturally you'll have to wait and see."

"Well, guess I'll wait and see, then."  With that, Cyborg patiently
waited for them to cuff him.

Strauss nodded, and Agent Clark snapped the smooth cuffs over his
wrists, forming two loops almost like an 'S' before locking in place.
Rather than add any further measures, the bearded agent merely gestured
for Cyborg to follow as they left the cell, Agents Clark and Gerrera in
tow. The halls they passed through were deserted; save for four more of
the black suited men, some wearing mirrored glasses. The four exited the
building out back, where a large white van and two similarly colorless
cars sat, parked but ready to move out.

Inside the van, Strauss offered Cyborg a seat while the other two agents
sat at his left and right.

"It will be some time before we reach the site," he explained, in a very
Raven-like bored tone of voice. "Is there anything you need in the
meantime? I assume your power reserves won't run out any time soon?"

"Naw, I'm good.  Heck, if you guys roll down a window I could probably
do a bit of solar charging during the ride to pass the time."  He
fidgeted around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position.  "And
seriously, couldn't you find a more comfortable ride?  If I had muscles,
they'd be stiff as crazy by the time we get where ever we're going."

"Just try to relax." Strauss tapped a pin on his suit. "Package is en
route..."

It wasn't long before the van and tips two escorts left New York and
entered New Jersey, turning off the highway to enter the secure area of
a small commercial airport. Slowing down, it crossed a dusty tarmac
before rolling up the ramp of a parked plane. Wings tilted, propellers
roaring, the tilt-wing craft took off minutes later.

Out to sea.

- - -

Starfire strained with every fibre of her being, willing herself to
move. She battled to the point that black spots danced across her
vision, threatening to send her back into unconsciousness again.  Panic,
having gripped her mind was threatening to boil over again. For all of
her struggles, she could not even feel her muscles so much as flex in
response.

Whatever held her in place, she had not been able to break its hold, not
with physical force nor the charged energies of a starbolt. Her entire
body was ostensibly free and unrestrained but completely unresponsive.
Not only was any movement impossible, but her powers also seemed to be
inaccessible. The feeling was akin to the time she had briefly awoken
from a lucid dream and found her body unwilling to move, but this felt
more sinister and pervasive. A dark fear gnawed away in her belly. Had
her captors... had they crippled her nervous system, paralyzed her body
to prevent her escape?

Managing to move her eyes, at least, she reiterated the fact that she
was out of her normal attire, and covered only by a thin white medical
frock of some sort. All else considered, it was a small indignity, far
less than those she had suffered during her Psion imprisonment. With
what range of sight she had, she stared impotently at the exit for the
umpteenth time. Her mind screamed for escape, still not accepting that
it was all but impossible in her current state.

A flash of movement distracted her for a moment, as a small silver
saucer floated up to her. It resembled a fat, hovering Frisbee. It
briefly drifted past her field of view, her eyes unable to follow it.
The light in the room grew a fraction brighter, but never more intense
than a soft glow. Where that light came from was less clear; there did
not seem to be any obvious source of it, except perhaps the walls
themselves.

A weak whimper escaped her lips as the reality of her situation began to
settle in once more, but she savagely quelled it. If she were to die,
then it would be as a warrior. Determined to put on a strong face for
her likely torturers, whenever they finally deigned to show themselves,
the Tamaranian did her best to blink the tears from her eyes and set her
chin firmly.

Then something finally happened.  After an insufferable eternity, a
nearly indistinct seam formed in the wall, only to widen, like
retreating mercury. It folded in slightly in the form of a rectangular
door before rushing up into the ceiling. Starfire glared defiantly at
the aperture; a moment later, her first visitor appeared. It was a young
man, human, and probably Asian. He had some unusual features she had not
seen in regular humans before: his eyes were a golden-red and his hair
was a mix of deep blue and pinkish silver-white. He did not seem very
old, certainly not more than two and a half human decades. His unusual
look contrasted with his olive green uniform, which looked decidedly
military or paramilitary.

Following behind the unfamiliar man was another, a human female -

Despite herself, Starfire let out a shocked gasp! It - it was
inconceivable. It ... it-

It was Akane Tendo!

Ranma's fiancee looked just as Starfire remembered, except maybe
slightly older, her hair was longer than before, but that was the only
obvious difference. She wore an identical uniform to the man, but stood
at attention near the door as it closed behind them. Though the face was
so familiar, the warmth which Starfire had come to know from the
compassionate girl, was completely absent, stripped away by whatever
horrors this timeline had likely subjected her to.

The Tamaranian's voice failed her and she could do little more than gape
incredulously at the Tendo girl.

"As I thought, I believe she has recognized you," the man commented,
speaking back towards Akane. The latter sniffed as if he had told a bad
joke.

"We picked up a name in your initial mind probe, alien," the male
returned to her, speaking casually. By his voice, Starfire knew he had
to be the one that had beaten her - how long ago? Had it been a day or a
week?

"My father had a retainer named Coriander. Your Koriand'r is very
similar," he mused, now standing close to her side, arms behind his
back. "I wonder if your maker intended it as a joke of some sort?"

Starfire stared at the vindictive warrior for a moment. He had yet to
ask her anything, just seemed fit to ridicule and scorn her true name.
She knew his violent nature, and how he would likely respond if she
spoke out of turn...  Still, she had to know. Turning quickly, she
barked- "Akane Tendo! It is I, Starfire! Why are you doing this? For
what reason are you holding me here?"

Akane closed her eyes in a grimace.

"I'm not Akane Tendo," she replied with a soft sigh. "I just look like
her. Since you seem to know about the Amazons, you must also know of the
cursed springs?"

In an instant, the meaning of the woman's words struck Starfire.
Unbidden, tears began to stream down her orange hued cheeks and she was
forced to choke back a sob.

"So... so Akane, the real Akane, is... dead, then. I see that there is
no limit to the depths of your depravity, villains!" The last words were
directed fiercely to the warrior she had battled in the skies above the
village.

"Is...?" the false-Akane asked, amazed. "Is she crying? Listen, the real
Akane isn't..."

"Now, now, they'll think we're abusing her," the male spoke up, and
leaned in to look Starfire in the face. He had the gall to look amused.
"The springs imprint on a victim when it 'drowns,' but that doesn't
always mean death. If Miss Tendo had actually died back then, I don't
think you'd be among the living today, Kiima. Saotome would have torn
you apart."

The Tamaranian stared at the pair uncertainly for a moment. The woman
wearing Akane's face, Kiima, crossed her arms over her chest and looked
away, giving a dismissive snort to the man's statement. Not certain what
the pair was actually present for, asides from the obvious beginning her
inevitable torture, Starfire decided to take solace in the small amount
of good news she had gleaned from this conversation.

"That ... I am glad to hear that she is safe... But - but you know
Ranma?" she asked, confused. "He is not dead either? And Ryouga? What of
him?"

The two humans exchanged a quick look.

"Saotome and Hibiki are both alive and well," the male replied. "Your
ilk are no match for true practitioners of The Art."

That odd statement brought Starfire up short. Her friends were alive,
but what he said made no sense.

"But ... but Ryouga and Ranma have not ever met any other Tamaranians,
excepting myself. Why would you feel the need to compare their combat
prowess to my people at all?"

The alien girl turned to look at 'Kiima', hoping the female would be
more sensible.  Gesturing to the male with a roll of her eyes, she asked
the odd doppelganger.  "This one has made little sense ever since we
first met. Can you please answer my questions? I am a dear friend to
both Ryouga and Ranma ... well, moreso the former than the latter, but
still. You speak as if you are familiar with them as well. If you are,
then why have you attacked me in such a vindictive manner?"

Kiima balked a bit, not expecting to be put on the spot.

The man inclined his head, expecting her to play along.

"You," she began. "You're the one who doesn't make any sense. No one
knows what a 'Tamaranian' is, unless it's a code word for some new sort
of alien-human abomination. As for Lieutenants Saotome and Hibiki, they-
"

The male held up a hand, motioning for her to stop.

"Don't say too much just yet, Kiima. We're here to extract information,
not freely hand it out. So. Let's have a little talk, alien," he said,
leaning back to stand straight by the side of her immobile form. "I am
Herb, of the Musk. You deserve to know that at least."

'Lieutenants Saotome and Hibiki?' Starfire made certain to file that
piece of information away. If anything, it worried her more than it
comforted her.

"You already know my name, having stolen it from my mind," she replied,
slowly and carefully picking her words, though not completely able to
keep all of the heat from her voice. "And ... while it is true that my
race is not widely known on your planet, I am certain that at the very
least Ryouga would be able to enlighten you, if you were to simply
contact him."

She then fired a dark glance back at the man. "I am certain that you
have no shortage of villainous methods to extract information from me,
just from what little I have seen of your organization thus far, but I
would prefer that you asked questions which made actual sense before
applying them... That is, if you can restrain yourself that long."

The man slowly licked his lower lip, as if quelling some rising emotion.
Standing against the wall, Kiima-as-Akane listened carefully to
something in her ear. The floating disk lazily drifted at the corner of
Starfire's side. Was it some kind of recording device? It had to be
present for some reason.

"Koriand'r," he finally asked, pointedly, "What were you after in Hong
Kong? Why didn't you kill anyone there? You clearly had the power to do
so, yet they have reported not a single fatality that we can verify as
being attributed to you."

"W-what?" she replied incredulously. "What manner of inquiry is that? I
have sworn to protect and assist all of the inhabitants of this planet,
just as the rest of my companions have."

Starfire fired an accusatory look his way, that being all that she was
capable of doing. "Why do you continue to accuse me of wrong doing in
this matter? It is you and yours that initiated the use of lethal
measures from our very first encounter. Considering the reckless use of
your projectile weapons, I am amazed that you did not injure more of
your own citizens than I did!"

"She's telling the truth?" Kiima muttered, amazed.

Herb nodded, but continued to question the captive Tamaranian. "Have you
ever thought of yourself as human? Do the names Cologne or Tofu or
Doctor Ono bring up any memories? What about the word Ethereal?"

Starfire shook her head distastefully. "Have I ever thought of myself as
human? What madness has affected your mind?"

Growing more disturbed by the second with her captor's bizarre
questions, she turned back to the familiar face of Akane.

"Please, explain to me what it is that he is talking about. What is an
Ethereal? Why are you so interested in Cologne? What does the vegetable
based side dish with which my friend is so enamoured have to do with any
of this?"

"You will...!" Herb started to snarl, temper flaring a bit in
impatience.

"I don't think she really understands where she is, sir, or even the
situation," Kiima suggested, politely interrupting. "Perhaps if we give
her some more context, she will be able to answer more clearly?"

The man sighed, but nodded.

The woman in the guise of her friend approached, but more warily than
the man.

"The lieutenant was asking whether you were a Trenchard or not - an
alien human hybrid. For months now, two former martial arts masters have
been producing them. Some are created in... in alien laboratories, but
the most powerful ones were once human. They were abducted or killed.
Alien organs were grafted into them and their bodies were altered. The
Ethereals, and Cologne... and another man, named Tofu Ono, are
responsible for this."

"You are neither human nor completely alien," Herb added. "You know
things only Cologne could have passed on to you. You know things... we
had assumed not even Cologne knew, such as Saotome's Hiryu Korin Dan."

Starfire stared back at the man, clearly showing the insult she
perceived. "I can most certainly assure you that I am wholly Tamaranian,
you - you klorbag!"

Secretly enjoying the frustration she was able to engender from the
person that had defeated her so soundly, she pointedly looked to Kiima
again.

"I am not, nor have I ever been anything other than a Tamaranian ...
What you say, though, sounds terrible! I must say, I find it hard to
believe... I came to know Cologne well in my time at her village. While
she can be somewhat meddling, there is no way that she would do
something so... inhuman." The alien girl tried to shake her head, but
failed utterly. "These 'Ethereals', are they some form of radical group?
I have not heard the name before, certainly not in the Vegan system, nor
here on Earth. What would they desire with altered humans?"

Herb's eyes narrowed slightly, while Kiima just shrugged.

"She must've known Cologne from before her conversion. Before the
implanted memories. But that... doesn't make sense," the faux-Akane
reasoned. "Shampoo gave us the Amazon records. They never had something
- someone - like this among them, and Cologne hadn't left Japan in two
years. Command is double checking now."

"Very well. Let us speak of this Tamaran." Herb began, still showing
signs of pique at the progress of the interrogation. "You believe you're
some new sort of alien, but our own testing indicates your DNA is more
than ninety percent human. No other pure-stock, unaltered alien has such
a natural similarity."

Starfire truly wished she could move her body at that moment (at least
the subtle sensation she was receiving from her extremities had somewhat
allayed her fears of being crippled, but it was still horribly
disconcerting) so that she could do more than roll her eyes at the
ignorant warrior.

"New sort of alien? Tamaranians have been traveling the stars while the
people of your planet were still building pyramids to venerate animal
themed pantheons!" She managed a bit of a smirk as she continued. "I
cannot account for the genetic similarities, aside from saying that such
genetic compatibility is inherently common in many races throughout the
galaxy. I can assure you, though, that my natural abilities of flight
and my mighty digestive tract of nine stomachs quite firmly preclude me
from having ever been human."

Kiima heard a confirmation from her earpiece.

"She believes what she's saying," the Jyuenkyou cursed woman commented
out loud. "How accurate it is remains to be seen. I don't think we'll be
extracting anything useful keeping at it like this, sir."

Herb nodded, seemingly expecting the news.

"We suspected it would be so," he told her, but had to go back to one
last thing. "The Rising Dragon Ascension Wave. Tell me how Cologne
imprinted it into you."

Starfire considered the question, amusement tickling her at the fond
memories. "I suppose it could be said that Cologne imprinted the
knowledge of the technique into me ... with most extreme prejudice. To
be quite accurate, though, she did not teach the technique to me, I
simply learned the theory and application as I assisted her in training
Ryouga in the same technique."

She gave her head a minor shake. "Unfortunately, despite his more formal
training, he has yet to demonstrate any real grasp of the technique
beyond the basics."

Another thought struck the Tamaranian as she considered the woman's
earlier words as well. "As for Tamaran, it should be quite simple for
you to confirm. It is only a scant 23 light-years from this planet,
located in the Vegan system."

"You're referring to what we call the Vega System," Kiima said. "It's
quite lifeless. Just a giant white star, a gas giant, and a lot of
little radioactive rocks."

"I grow tired of this nonsense," Herb hissed. "The mind probe is
obviously not calibrated properly, or if it is, she is completely and
utterly deluded. Girl - I can't personally speak for the star system you
claim to be from, but I know for a fact that Lieutenant Hibiki has never
learned the Hiryu Shoten Ha, not from Saotome and not from Cologne."

The Tamaranian's eyes narrowed as she glared back at Herb.

"I am no liar and I am not deluded! As I said, Ryouga learned only the
basics, and I have never seen him use it beyond our initial
demonstration in the village..."

Sudden understanding began to dawn on Starfire. "Though ... it may have
been some time ago. I am not certain but - this will likely sound even
more unlikely to you - but I believe that I do not belong in this
timeline. It is quite possible that many years have passed between my
time and yours. There are ... so many differences between your time and
my own ... So much that I cannot bear to see."

Herb tilted his head slightly, as if actually giving it some thought.

"Time travel, now?" Kiima asked, but the incredulous doubt in her voice
was undisguised. "That's a new one. "

"And what year do you believe this to be?" the Musk Prince asked in an
even tone.

Taking a moment to think, Starfire responded. "By the galactic standard,
it is Thrang'Rek-Nog. but by the rather unusual religious calendar used
on this planet, the year from which I arrived was 2005, and the month
was September."

She then fired a dirty look at Kiima. "And I would thank you to not to
employ so much of the sarcasm. Time travel is not that uncommon, and
this is not my first such traversal of the time stream."

Kiima was already shaking her head in disbelief.

Herb, however, was completely unflustered by Starfire's unexpected
responses. "I see. Currently, it is February of 2007. By all means, tell
me of this incident where you traveled through time."

She nodded quickly. "It was in regards to a villain named Warp. He
traveled to my time from even further in the future to attempt the theft
of a rare object. During our battle, I was dragged into the future with
him. It was ... not a pleasant experience." She fired a pointed glare at
her captors. "Though, it was still preferable to the experience I am
having in this timeline, I might add."

"This gets us nowhere. I only have one other question," Herb calmly
replied. "You mentioned Elder Perfume during your capture. Am I to
assume you met her, as well? At the Amazon village? In 2005?"

That seemed to be a somewhat strange question. "Indeed. When my team
mates and I became stranded in China, during our foiling of a plot to
utilize the powers of Jyusenkyou for evil, Elder Perfume and Cologne
were two of the only elders to take pity on our situation and assist us
while there."

Herb nodded slowly, understanding the situation.

"Let me explain something to you, girl," he said, convinced more than
ever as to the delusional alien's mental state. "Cologne was never in
China in 2005 and Perfume was exiled from the village two decades ago!
What you describe could not have happened."

Starfire shook her head. "I do not like to be one to correct you, but I
must insist on my own personal experiences. My own training is proof of
that, and I am sure that if you contact Ryouga, he will confirm
everything I have said...  Though, you may want to omit the unneeded
cruelty with which you apprehended me. Ryouga is quite protective of me,
and would doubtlessly be infuriated."

"Hibiki?" Kiima spoke up, barking out a dismissive laugh. "Protective of
an alien? After what they did to him?"

"Kiima," Herb interrupted, but quickly turned back to his captive. "We
will soon send a status report on you to both Hibiki and Saotome, but
rest assured, we have extensive files on all of our operatives here.
None of them have any prior experience with aliens like yourself. As for
Perfume... as I said, she was exiled in the eighties by the Amazon
Council. I was merely a boy when their courier requested we, the Musk,
not try and... recruit her, but I remember it well."

"By recruit he means marry," Kiima helpfully explained.

"Yes, that," the Musk Prince consented with a shrug. "You see, alien,
there is no way what you describe could have happened. There is no way
Perfume could have taught you Earth Seeking Moon style. You may believe
it with all your heart, but it is not true. Those memories you have are
implanted. They are artificial. Fake! This Tamaran of yours...? There
are no habitable worlds there."

Starfire's eyes narrowed, her emotions finally beginning to bubble over.
"Stop!  Cease trying to confuse me with your endless stream of lies!  No
matter how often you repeat them, your hollow words cannot pluck planets
from the cosmos!"

For a moment, her captor's features hardened, his gaze piercing her with
its intensity...only for him to shake his head and look away.  Shoulders
dropping a fraction of an inch, Herb turned away from her, looking at
something which she could not perceive.

"I had hoped that we would be able to avoid this; that we could possibly
coax the information we desire to the surface through simple
discourse... but I see that I was mistaken."

Apprehension began to build within Starfire's chest.  Realization began
to set in as to the meaning of his words and the reluctance with which
they were spoken.  As such, she was not surprised when Herb turned to
his associate and gave a nod.

"Please inform the interrogator that we are leaving. The room is now
his."

The woman wearing Akane's face shifted uncomfortably, but complied
without word.  Touching a finger to her ear, she sent off a quick
message to whoever was on the other end of their communication network.
That done, both of the soldiers turned their back to Starfire and made
their way to the door. For just a second, Herb paused before leaving the
room - hesitation perhaps? - but, in the end, vanished without a word or
even a glance.  The door did not close after him this time, though, and
light continued to filter in through the opening.

All too soon, though, a new silhouette filled the doorway.  She did not
mistakenly believe that Herb had returned to further question her
sanity, this newcomer was shorter and lankier, and was pushing a small
metallic cart.  As this new person entered the room, Starfire was able
to see what it was that was covering the mobile tray.  None of the alien
looking devices looked at all familiar to her, but the way they were
arrayed, and the way the dim light gleamed over their sleek surfaces
were frighteningly ominous.

The interrogator, an older male, studied her dispassionately as he
rolled his cart up next to her. Reaching out to pick up one of the
devices with ease no doubt borne of long practice, he matched her gaze.
His clinical stare sent a shiver down her spine, and a sense of
familiarity chilled her soul as the scenario began to echo a similar one
from her darkest memories. Some sort of transmitter-receiver fitted
snugly over her forehead, and the chill of gel coated sensor electrodes
followed.

"Hmm. It was always a long shot, you know: expecting your actual
memories to try and emerge like that," he remarked, dabbing a bit of the
conductive gel onto a spot near her ear. "The psyche is like an ocean
and the ego merely floatsam, drifting helplessly on the surface, tempest
tossed by waves and tides. Fishing clumsily with words... relying on
something as vague as intuition to find the vast and unfathomable
subconscious beneath that sea? Hubris. Unreliable."

Examining the something off to the side with cold satisfaction, the
interrogator turned back and nodded to her, his face expressionless and
as cold as ice.

"No. This is a job suited for machines, not men," he concluded, leaning
a bit closer. "Let us cut through all of this nonsense and get to the
real truth, shall we?"

Despite her desire to remain strong, Starfire could not help but whimper
as the man set about his grim work.  The last thought on her mind, while
it was still her own to control was...

'Please let my friends be safe...'

- - -

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

Raven sighed as she floated in the air, cross legged. Her meditation
didn't seem to be having its usual effect. Not so much that it wasn't
centering her, allowing her greater control of her power; more that for
some reason her powers had yet to fully recover from her battle from
Mousse. Perhaps it was some odd side effect of the unusual technique he
had used to absorb her power? It didn't usually take her this long to
regain her strength, even after such a large expenditure.

She smirked at that thought.  It had felt very good to see the look on
Mousse's face when she overloaded his 'ultimate technique' and plastered
him against the terminal ceiling.  Certainly, it wasn't her Mousse, the
one she knew, but some jaded, calloused version ... still, the payback
had been quite enjoyable.  Next best thing to the real thing, she
decided.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

Her latest accommodations weren't the most conducive to meditation,
either.  Apparently whatever group these look-alikes worked with
confused alien combatants with pets, as they had locked her in a semi-
transparent plastic tent, rimmed by some sort of metallic devices. She
wasn't sure what had happened next, but her mobile prison had obviously
been moved, what with all the jostling, but she hadn't felt so much as a
shake in some time.

Three hours, the other-Ryouga had said.

Were they headed to this other facility, then?

The incessant buzzing in her head was starting to get annoying as well,
but levitation was a basic enough ability that she could still do so
through the shrill interference. She wasn't sure how much she could
press the device, but at the moment, she didn't want to risk using any
more energy anyway. Too much, and she could feel it start to kick in,
interrupting her thoughts in a much more visceral way.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

As dire as the situation was, she still found her mind wandering to her
odd dream that morning.  For weeks now - months - she had been having
more or less the same, apocalyptic dream, night after night.  Being able
to speak to Ranma had become an unlikely but greatly appreciated outlet
for her in trying to cope, perhaps the only thing keeping her from
retreating completely from her friends out of fear.

But this dream ... despite certain unpleasant aspects, she forced
herself to be disturbed by the kiss that had ended the dream, despite
the fact that it had been quite pleas -- She shook her head forcefully,
nearly dropping onto her bottom on the unforgiving metal floor.  It had
been bizarre, incomprehensible, and as Starfire would put it: just plain
freaky.

But it had most assuredly not been a nightmare.  There had not been a
single flame in sight, not a single grim statue. Had something changed
in the time that they had been missing?  What could have changed so
profoundly in such a short span of time?

Still, if that was the worst she could expect, she could get used to it
...

Provided she survived long enough to see another night, that was.  This
older group of Nerimians were quite far removed from the ones she knew.
Mousse, in particular, seemed like he would be quite happy to see her
dead ...  Okay, so maybe he wasn't that far removed.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos."

Perhaps -

Her musings were interrupted, when the front of her holding cell
suddenly slid open.  She stared at the men that stood before her now
with a bland expression. Chief among them was her jailor, replete with
sword and gleaming perfect smile. The two soldiers flanking him were new
additions.

"So, I take it we've arrived?" she deadpanned.

"Indeed we have, my violet haired captive! Please, this way," Kuno said,
motioning her out. As she did, she heard a soft pitter-patter that soon
became almost drowned out by what she had initially assumed to be some
sort of background engine noise. It was drizzling outside.

They were also, by the look of things outside, on top of a large
concrete dam or watershed. She could see a long body of water forming,
maybe fifty meters down from the helipad where they had landed. The area
was cordoned off by barbed wire fences and at least three guard towers.
The roar of falling water confirmed that it was a damn, perhaps even a
hydroelectric plant of some sort.

"Hisen," Kuno said. "Waterfall."

Raven stepped out, and immediately tried to block the light drizzle with
a bit of her power. It should have been as inoffensive as the earlier
levitation, but the band around her head buzzed in her mind, preventing
anything from manifesting. Instead, a white poncho was quickly tossed
over her shoulders, and a hood raised to protect her head. It was, in a
way, a sort of inverse of the normal colors and attire she wore.

Glancing back, she saw the other containment unit being moved out of the
VTOL aircraft behind them. Mousse and the other Ryouga were there,
directing the effort along with two other military types. Interestingly,
the native version of her Jyusenkyou cursed friend seemed to be standing
in the light rain, and getting rather wet, without any sort of
transformation at all. Before she could ponder that, she felt herself
being herded down a flight of metal steps.

It was a short distance, around the catwalk, before they came to a large
door set in the concrete body of the dam. It was already open and
waiting. Stepping inside, Raven squinted a bit at the suddenly bright
light. The inside was rather stark, but modern, with clean white walls
and metallic supports. Three uniformed individuals waiting for them
there: two guards and a woman in a lab coat.

"Doctor," Kuno spoke, curtly. "Papers, if you please."

The woman held out a clipboard which the usually goofy swordsman took,
briefly examined, and started marking with an attached pen. He then
flipped a page, made one more mark, and signed. Handing it back over,
the woman nodded.

"Thank you, Corporal."

"Yes, ma'am," Kuno replied, but added. "I'm to remain as escort until
she reaches containment, ma'am."

"Of course."

The woman finally turned to face Raven - she looked to be about in her
forties, and a good foot taller than the younger girl. Despite being in
Japan, this woman was obviously Caucasian, with platinum blonde hair and
bright blue eyes. She nodded to her new charge, and quickly led them,
Kuno and the two guards included, in to a freight elevator that began
descending into a sublevel of the dam complex.

"Miss Raven," the woman said, as the five of them waited for it to reach
bottom. "My name is Doctor Bloom. I heard from our preliminary report
that you are a category double-A psychic, the most powerful we have
general records on. No family, no dental records, no existing medical
history? Do you have any allergies or ailments I should be aware of?"

Looking around in mild interest, Raven shook her head.  "Not
particularly.  Though my doctor did tell me that I should avoid being
dissected if I could at all avoid it."  She turned to stare at the
doctor, smirking slightly. "That isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

"Contrary to the impression some like to give, once our organization
captures someone and returns them to a holding facility, like this one -
human or alien - we do not execute them, nor do we experiment on them,"
the doctor replied. "As the Geneva Conventions have not been extended to
non-human combatants, we nonetheless attempt to adhere to the principles
of the UN Charter and our founding... in as much as we can, given unique
circumstances."

"Well, that sounds quite civil of you," Raven quipped, "Though, if the
first thing you do is turn around and pick up a large needle, you
realize that my faith in you will be forever shattered."

The doctor chuckled lightly. "Understood."

"Now," she added, checking one of the papers in her clip pad. "We're
going to begin with toxicology and a biopsy, along with a general
physical exam. You don't have any records, so we're going to have to
make some from scratch. We'll get X-rays and dental records later...
You'll need a comprehensive genetic analysis to determine your source
material and heredity, and your percentage of human DNA. As well as a
psionic probe and mental map."

The elevator came to a stop, and the doctor led them forward into the
main facility itself. Hisen was one of many facilities operated by
UNETCO under various auspices. They were not large, secure, or vital
enough to be true hidden bases, like Seiran Mountain or Fry Canyon or
Andermatt, but they had off-base functionality that those places lacked.
This included low priority research not deemed security intensive, and
some emergency containment for humans or hybrids immediately removed
from society. Hisen's highest level containment was normally class-A.
Room for a class-AA had only been produced by procuring additional power
from the national grid.

Raven shrugged as she was led through the rather generic 'secret base'
set up.  It certainly wasn't as flashy as most she'd been through, but
at least it wasn't bright yellow, either.

"Well, just to give you fair warning, you'll find some of my DNA to be
... distinctly non-human.  In fact, you will find it to be quite
indecipherable indeed.  That isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

"I've seen my fair share of non-humans and hybrid mixes." The doctor
didn't seem put off by it, either. "You don't have anything to be
ashamed of. Almost ten percent of the human population has at least some
tampering in their genome."

The dark Titan laughed humorlessly.  "Some tampering ... yes, that's one
way to put it.  Well, as long as it isn't a problem.  When do we proceed
to the mind scan so that we can get all this foolishness of 'fabricated
pasts' out of the picture? You're officers' insistence that they are the
only ones that can be right was getting overly tedious."

"Standard procedure is to establish a physical picture first, before we
calibrate the mind probe."

They walked along another clean hallway, this one sporting a few items
of note. There was a cork board with clippings and notes on it, attached
using sticky-pads. A camera built into one of the corners of the hall
slowly scanned back and forth. The walls here were also reinforced with
a smooth gray metal, in addition to plastic. They passed through a
secure airlock at the end of the hall, and into a final hall. This one
was completely stark, covered with metal.

"Activating laser grid," the doctor spoke up, and the two guards stepped
back to secure the airlock.

Kuno took a step forward, his hand resting leisurely on the hilt of his
sword. Raven blinked, expecting to actually see some lasers show up
somewhere, mildly disappointed when she didn't see any. Then again, she
remembered Robin mentioning once that lasers weren't always visible, so
maybe she just couldn't see them.

"You should be fine there, Corporal," Doctor Bloom said, casually
walking down the corridor. "Give us a little privacy."

"As you say," the swordsman replied, patting the end of his prized
weapon. "If you require anything, good doctor, you need only call. The
Blue Thunder shall answer."

"Um..." Doctor Bloom obviously hasn't been briefed on the man's
eccentricities. "Thank you, Corporal. I trust it won't be necessary."

A short distance away was her cell.

Such as it was. It appeared to be a solid box, built into the otherwise
seamless walls, rectangular and fairly good-sized. A plain bed folded
out from the wall, along with a privacy screen in the back - probably
concealing the amenities. Otherwise, the room seemed completely bare.
There weren't even any grates for air flow... at least none she could
see. A faint click signaled the release of her handcuffs.

Next to the entrance, the doctor picked up a change of clothes.

"I assume you've been to the doctor before?" she asked, holding them out
with one hand. "Get dressed, and I'll prepare the first round of tests."

Raven looked to the hospital gown, then back to the doctor.  Leveling a
powerfully flat look back at her, she stated matter of factly.

"I don't do backless clothing."

"I don't imagine the doctor you mentioned before examined you in your
leotard, Miss Raven."

Raven smirked.  "My usual physician normally has to do my physicals with
a long distance scanner, usually while I'm distracted watching
television.  He's had to develop ... special technology to deal with our
particular situation."

"Your particular situation?" Bloom asked, cocking her head to the side a
bit. "Do you mean your powers? You're a class-AA according to these
reports. Very few double-A telekinetics can completely control their
powers."

Raven just stared at her.  "Our 'situation' being, that he's a hormonal
teenage boy, and he has a better chance of learning ancient Sumerian
than he does of getting me to disrobe for him to 'examine' me."

"Your doctor was a teenage boy?!" the doctor sounded incredulous. "I
hope he was at least cute, then..." she glanced back at the cell walls.
"If you're uncomfortable, I can extend the privacy screen into the
entire room."

"Is everyone in this universe so gutter minded, or just you?"  Raven
frowned, rubbing her arm self-consciously.  "Fine, set up the privacy
screen, please."

"Young lady, unless you have tentacles under there, it's nothing I
haven't seen before."

The Doctor approached a featureless patch of the wall, and touched it
with two fingers. Making a gesture against the metal, she broke contact,
and a second later the transparent walls dimmed and grew smoky,
providing them with another layer of privacy. At the same time, Raven
realized, it would make it harder for Kuno or anyone outside to see the
doctor if things turned violent within the cell. In a way, she supposed
it was a show of trust.

Resigned, she headed for the curtains in the back to change.

By the time she finished and stepped back out, the room had altered.

There was now an examination table of some sort sticking out of the
center of the room. It didn't look like it had come out of a trap door
or anything - it seemed to have just formed out of nowhere. There was
also three spheres extending, like bulbs, from the ceiling. Looking up,
she could see where it attached to the metal overhead. It looked like it
had flowed down like a giant liquid droplet.

"Please," doctor Bloom indicated the table. "Just lie down and try to
relax."

Growing more uncomfortable by the second, Raven absently touched the
circlet on her forehead.  It was stuck on quite firmly though, and
didn't budge an inch.

"Are you certain that you aren't the aliens?  I'm pretty sure I've seen
this setup in one of Beast Boy's movies.  If you try to probe me, things
will get violent, circlet or no circlet."

Sighing, she then got onto the bed.  The sooner they got this over with,
the better.

"While much of this technology is alien derived..." Doctor Bloom noted
her patient suddenly starting to get back up. "We don't use those
invasive features. As an... let's just say I understand your concern.
Please bear with it, and I'll make this as painless as possible, ok?"

She walked over to the side of the table, and keyed in, logging the
patient and time.

"You'll feel a sort of numbing paralysis start to spread," she warned,
as the examination table activated. "Don't try and fight it. It's
perfectly normal."

Raven took a deep breath, having felt the lack of sensation starting to
spread up from her legs and down her arms halfway into the doctor's
warning. It was a little hard to resist the instinctual urge to buck and
fight against it. No one liked being held helpless, after all. Another
deep breath, and she calmed herself, letting the feeling engulf her
body. It was almost soothing, like being totally immersed in a warm
bath, or one of those sensory deprivation treatments she had read some
spas offered.

She barely felt it, even when the metal band around her head finally
came off.

A bright light caused her to squint and then close her eyes, and despite
an urge to keep conscious, she slipped into a dreamless sleep. She never
saw Doctor Bloom, staring at a readout superimposed on one of the walls,
a confused look on her face. Confusion quickly morphed into curiosity,
and then excitement.

"Fascinating."

- - -

"Well, you're a copy of Lieutenant Hibiki alright."

The doctor's statement was less than comforting (not to mention still
kind of insulting). Ryouga Hibiki - Teen Titan - sat in a giant metal
box of a room, wearing medical scrubs, staring at a readout of his own
DNA. He'd been marched down, forced to change into hospital clothes, and
then made to lay on what he swore was the kind of creepy examination
table used in 'contact of the first kind' movies. The doctor, a brown
haired man in his thirties, was now pondering a bunch of
incomprehensible gibberish on the wall.

"An almost perfect match. None of the typical markers of alien cloning
or accelerated development. The histogram indicates some physical
divergence," The doctor read off, quickly adding a caveat. "The neural
map indicated some substantial tampering, however, so we're going to
need to run some more surface tests for cloaked mental imprints."

Ryouga just scowled at the older man. "I'm not a copy. You just said
yourself that I'm not a damned clone.  And I already know about the
'substantial tampering', so don't bother."

"This is for our benefit, not simply your piece of mind," the man
replied. "The better we understand this trauma, the more easily we can
fix it."

"It doesn't need to be fixed, Poindexter. Just leave well enough alone,
thank you very much."  Ryouga casually tapped on the metal bench,
frowning darkly. "Some things are better left undisturbed, if you get my
drift."

"I do not 'get your drift,'" the doctor mimicked the phrase with obvious
disdain. "I have been asked to submit a review on your mental health as
it pertains to security procedures. Currently, you are a high risk. You
have potentially dangerous mental conditioning of an unknown origin and
inclination. If you wish to leave this cell with any of your memories
intact, you will cooperate."

A soft glow enveloped the room, centered around the triad of bulbous
probes extending from the ceiling. Faint lights seemed to move under the
surface of the seamless metal. The doctor, apparently less than
enthusiastic about his patient given the man's bland tone of voice, kept
his back to the martial artist as he studied the projected data
scrolling down a transparent section of the prison wall.

"While we run this, I'm going to ask you about your companion," he said,
taking out a small note pad and pen. "The young woman you called Raven.
Do you believe that to be her real name or an alias?"

The Lost Boy glared at the doctor, tapping the bench again.  "I never
asked," he bit off darkly.

"I see. Did you first meet this young woman under what you would
consider favorable or unfavorable conditions?"

Barking with laughter, Ryouga nearly doubled over.  "Well, it did lead
to three successive fights in a row, nearly get me killed once or twice
and got me cursed all over again... so, I'd say about par for the course
for me."

"That will do... Now, have you ever had a violent reaction towards her
specifically?"

The martial artist's mood came crashing down just as quickly as it rose.
Again his finger tapped down on the bench, ringing hollowly. "I'd rather
not talk about it."

The doctor paused a few seconds, as if contemplating the follow up
question.

"Have you ever thought of her as an opponent or a threat to your
personal safety?"

"Look, would you just quit it?  Raven is my friend, and my team mate.
Sure, things happened, but you obviously aren't the type to actually
listen to explanations here.  If this is your not so subtle way of
asking 'is she dangerous?', then the answer is an emphatic no."
Abandoning his seat, Ryouga began to stalk around the cell.  "Frankly,
the only threat to my personal safety at the moment is you and your
psychotic army of evil clones."

"You are mistaken. This line of questioning has nothing to do with your
friend, and everything to do with you," The doctor explained, watching
the younger man pace. "Now.  Please take your seat. Next question: have
you ever had a psychotic episode?"

Ryouga glared at the man.  "I'm seriously considering it."

"Sarcasm. Cute. I've never heard sarcasm before. Have you ever lost
track of long stretches of time?"

"No, just road," the martial artist muttered.  Dropping back to his seat
he began to tap away at the seat again impatiently.

"Have you ever been forced to act in a way contrary to your most deeply
held principles?"

"....yes."

Ryouga idly wondered how many guards were in close proximity.  He didn't
like the way these questions were going.  Maybe if he got really lucky
he could dig a tunnel to Raven and get them out of there?

"Hmm." Another short pause. "Have you ever felt betrayed by an authority
figure? A parent... other relative? A mentor or teacher?"

"Define 'teacher'? Does it count if they were actually a villain that
was just using you all along as a pawn in their wicked schemes?
Because, other than that one... not really. Kinda, but not really."

"Interesting," was the man's only response. "One last question." He held
up the pen in his hand. It had a prominent blue band on it. "What color
is this?"

"Umm, the pen itself, or the colored band on the pen?  It's not really
one color, so asking 'what color is this pen' isn't really fair, is it?
I mean, what if I say what color the pen is, but saying that makes me
out to be a brain eating zombie.  But, then if I say what color the band
is, then I might be an alien pod person.  And they colors aren't mixed,
so if I say two colors, you'll probably lock me in a cell forever and
dissect my liver!" Ryouga started pacing again. "I mean, what kind of
psychobabble is this?  What color is this pen?  What kind of question is
that?  First you're asking me about all this crazy life stuff, and
suddenly you want to test my eyesight?"

He glared at the doctor.  "What's your angle, Dr. Poindexter?"

The man turned the pen around in his hand.

"Your anxiety is only natural. The purpose of the questions is not to
judge you in any way. A person can not be held responsible for actions
taken due to brainwashing or subliminal coercion." He turned a bit, so
Ryouga could see his face. He seemed, if anything, still bored by the
entire procedure. "We are here to analyze the damage done. Aren't you
concerned about what mental programming you've been subjected to?"

"Not really, no," Ryouga replied.  "I already know what happened and had
it sorted out.  Not the most pleasant experience, I can assure you, but
still."

"Really?" The doctor asked. "And if some mental conditioning, triggered
in the future, were to endanger your friend? From what I've read, you
have the same strength as Lieutenant Hibiki. I imagine self control
would be something you consider very important."

He shrugged, and tucked the pen away into his coat pocket.

"More to the point, how can you be sure what you think or feel is
genuine, and not just a manipulation?"

The Lost Boy shook his head.  Honestly, it was like talking to a brick
wall.  This guy had already formed his opinion of what had happened to
Ryouga, with no actual facts, and it didn't seem to matter what he told
the guy.

So why bother?

"Oh, of course you're right, Mr. Doctor-Man.  My whole life is a lie and
only now, thanks to your caring and thoughtful pep talk, I've seen the
light."  He then added, in a complete deadpan, "Please, please, erase my
mind and replace it with something you find more palatable.  How about
loading me up with all the baggage that your psychotic Hibiki seems to
be carrying around?"

The bored doctor rolled his eyes.

"We may do just that." He flipped his notepad closed, triggered some
hidden switch on the wall, turning it into a picturesque window with a
view of the dam outside. He then headed back to the airlock door that
separated Ryouga's cell from the containment area.

"Your physical and mental examination is finished. Excellent health as
expected, but substantial levels of mental indoctrination," the doctor
elaborated, and the inner door opened without so much as a gesture.
"Attitude problems as well, but fairly common among young men in their
rebellious phase. We have a specialist coming in tomorrow to clean up
the mess in your head. Good night, Mister Hibiki."

The airlock shut, hissed, and the doctor walked off.

His so called patient never even got his name.

- - -

Hisen's facilities for security personnel were Spartan. Space within the
base was at a premium and reserved for research and containment, then
lab faculty, then finally security. A few bunks in the general barracks
had been made available to India Squad while they were on the premises,
in the form of stacked beds and a footlocker for stowing gear. An irony
was that, against all logic and reason, the two captives they had
brought in probably enjoyed ostensibly better accommodations. Larger, at
least.

Sitting at the edge of his bunk, Ryouga Hibiki - the one who belonged in
this time and place - had his partly disassembled plasma carbine splayed
out on a white cloth draped over his legs. The laser rifle he'd used
earlier was nearby, also wrapped in a white cloth, but intact. Most of
his uniform was folded up for storage next to him, leaving just an
undershirt and boxer shorts. Like most Elerium based alien weapons,
including the slightly improved versions most widely used by UNETCO, the
carbine before him was rugged and nearly indestructible. It wasn't even
really necessary to clean it in a conventional sense.

Instead of needing that sort of attention, plasma weapons just needed
the occasional physical maintenance in the form of hardware checks. The
interface between rifle and ammunition clip was one of vital importance
- and one that did need at least cursory cleaning - it didn't hurt to
flush out the barrel and coils of the EM accelerator as well. They
naturally resisted and repelled crud or residue, allowing the plasma
from the next shot to clean the barrel, but you could still find
lingering traces on a few spots, typically the very end of the
accelerator pathway. The rest was just manually double checking the
diagnostics of the modular sections...

It helped take his mind off of where he wasn't.

They would all be heading back to Seiran tomorrow, probably taking the
two prisoners, too. That was up to the Captain. A part of him had wanted
another night like the last, though even then, he knew it probably
wouldn't hold up in the face of real life. He wondered if Nabiki felt
the same way, or if she was just relaxing in a nice room, catching an
hour or two of television before turning in. She'd already submitted her
initial report. They hadn't really gotten a chance to talk since he got
that text from Mousse that morning.

Barrel into sleeve; close sleeve; lock body with coil; watch for green
light; move and depress slide. The carbine came back together in all of
four seconds, running its own internal maintenance routine and
responding with all-green. He sighted down the rail on the top of the
gun, before reaching to the side to snap on the interactive scope,
sensor suite and rangefinder. The underslung launcher came next, fitted
to the bottom of the bulpup carbine near the forward grip. The last
mission had eaten up almost his entire allotment of stun grenades; a
quick check confirmed only two were left.

"Pour it on! Bring this bitch down!"

Flicking off the weapon into standby mode, he stowed it, along with the
last few ammo clips.

Looking down at the footlocker, on the verge of closing and locking it,
he paused, thinking back to the fight. That girl. He'd been planning to
kill her, once it became clear she had that monstrous transformation.
Only later, when he saw that other him calm her down, did he settle back
to 'capture if possible' rather than shoot on sight, which had been his
natural inclination. Nabiki had kept politely reminding him of the
snipers they had in position, waiting to take a shot while India played
the distraction. He'd killed, or ordered killed, his fair share of
hybrids and insane psychics, not to mention dozens of aliens. It came
with the job. It was why Yasuda had formed the special martial artist
teams.

"I mean, come on, just look at yourself! You're overflowing with evil
ki! You toss around killing techniques without even blinking. You - you
use guns!?  Can you seriously look me in the eyes and say that I'm the
evil clone here?  It's like someone hand crafted you out of my
nightmares."

He closed the footlocker, tapping in a key code to lock it.

The words shouldn't have bothered him.

It was just some stupid, delusional copy after all. He'd mulled over the
Doppelganger's words after that fight, too, months ago. Hell, he still
did. His thought then had mirrored the clone's statement regarding
himself now. That copy had been only partly human, very nearly more
Ethereal than man. The fact that it could shrug off being impaled from
shoulder to thigh, or casually pluck a bullet out of its eye socket, or
laugh as a stream of hate filled ki formed into the blackest, most
powerful shishi hokoudans Ryouga had ever encountered... Well. It was
inhuman. Best to leave it at that.

Gods, but he probably did look a little like that now. It was...
upsetting.

He wasn't like that other him.

"Those memories you cherish... fill me with hate."

It was just a technique. Just a way of fighting. That was all. He'd been
rough on the rest of India Squad when they trained, back when they
started, and even just last week before they left the base. They needed
power. They needed to be strong. He remembered pummeling Ukyou with ki
attacks, trying to drill into her the importance of believing in herself
and her ability to survive, because in battle that would be what kept
her alive. He wasn't like that doppelganger. He had people: friends,
family, a purpose, all worth living for. Did it really matter that he
had to partly disassociate that to accommodate his fighting style?

But, really, a part of him liked losing himself in a raging battle aura.

A part of him enjoyed it.

He tried to remember, not for the first time, the face of the man he had
killed back in Operation Winter Triangle. It had been the first human
life he'd taken. The man had been with the Sirius Organization, a
mercenary protecting the cargo ship where terrorists had tested and
developed the "venom" chemical weapon. He could remember, clearly, the
victims of that testing, tortured and wasting away in their cells within
the ship. He couldn't quite remember the face of the man he'd killed.
Not anymore.

A lot of them had just kind of become a blur over the weeks and months.

A Russian man, behind the wheel of an armored car attempting to run him
over, a look of surprise on his face as the vehicle upended; then he was
gone, crushed into the engine block. A south Asian terrorist, firing
wildly after seeing one of his comrades splattered against a bulkhead. A
north Korean officer, his torso blowing apart from a plasma blast - did
he even know his base and his men were being used as meatshields by
corrupt superiors and their alien masters? A former human psi-sensitive,
altered by the enemy, lashing out with psionic attacks, nothing but
madness in his eyes after escaping his experimental tube. An abductee,
hooked up to an alien harvesting machine, pleading to be put out of her
misery...

Elbows on his knees, Ryouga held his face, screwing his eyes shut. A
ragged breath helped to pull his nerves back together. A few more
months. Just a few more, if the war lasted that long, and he could get
cycled out for a few weeks break. He remembered Doctor Pearson's advice,
and tried to concentrate and find his inner peace.

"Don't try and forget. Don't deny what happened. Don't pretend it was
someone else. Don't try and blame others. No one ever said this would be
easy, Lieutenant."

An inhuman face, a terrible reflection of his own, haunted him behind
closed eyes.

"Those memories you cherish... fill me with hate."

Another deep breath. Slow...

"The only thing we're good for, the only thing the world wants out of
us, is our strength. Human? Alien? There's really no difference."

Methodical.

"You're... almost as inhuman as I am."

Centered.

By the time he reopened his eyes, his breathing and mind were back to
normal. Feeling better, he mentally chastised himself for dredging those
memories up again. It was foolish. Didn't he tell that other him, just
earlier today, that he would gladly put aside his pride for his duty,
for his responsibilities? This was what was necessary, not only to
fulfill his vow and avenge Akari, but to serve and protect all mankind.
This was Ryouga Hibiki, for once, doing the right thing.

"Hey," a familiar voice interrupted, preceding the arrival of a certain
bi-spectacled team mate.

"Mousse," the lost one replied and a small grin. "You hear? We're
heading back tomorrow."

"Figures," Mousse said, running a hand through his far-too-long for
regulation hair. It was still slightly damp, having recently come from
the barracks showers. The Chinese weapons master was dressed down, too,
having volunteered for the adjacent bunk. Despite wearing only an
undershirt, he somehow managed to pull out a comb from seemingly
nowhere. Sticking it on his hair for a moment, he popped open the
assigned footlocker on the floor with his bare feet.

"Where'd you get that, anyway?" Ryouga added, motioning to the object in
his comrade's left hand. Putting down a styrofoam cup of noodles, steam
rising up from an upturned lip of the wax paper top, Mousse took a seat
opposite his CO on another of the bunks.

"Won it in a hand of cards with some guys downstairs," Mousse explained,
smirking.

"Kuno isn't down there using his 'personal deck' is he?"

The near sighted fighter chuckled. "You bet he is."

"Geez!" Ryouga rubbed the base of his nose in feigned vexation.

"Blame your girlfriend. She's the one who got them for him."

"Believe me, I do. She's got a dirty mind."

Mousse just laughed again, opening the cup o' noodles.

Last Christmas, Nabiki's present for her 'dear old friend Tatewaki' had
been a deck of cards. A borderline pornographic deck of cards, starring
various girls from mangas and real life. Racy Ranma-chan pictures
included. The only semi-tasteful one was the '10' - a 'fiery picture of
the beauteous Akane Tendo.' After seeing it, Ryouga had sworn that if
either Akane or Ranma raised a fuss that the deck would quickly find its
way into an incinerator. Amazingly, Akane had shrugged (maybe she was
used to Kuno's casual perversion?) and Ranma had instead argued that he
already had much sexier pictures of his female self anyway.

Like anyone needed that image in their head.

As a result, Kuno now carried the cards with them whenever they went on
missions or off base for any period of time, dubbing the racy playing
cards his 'lucky deck.' Having played more than a few hands with them
himself, Ryouga had to admit, it was really a mystery where Nabiki had
gotten some of those images. That cheerleader girl in particular...!
Regardless, it only reinforced his suspicion that she was planning to
make up and sell some sort of sexy calendar, too. She'd mentioned a
'Girls of Nerima' project as a joke before, and the middle Tendo
daughter really was shameless, sometimes.

"I bet she's enjoying herself right now. Eating room service at some
fancy hotel," Mousse guessed, flipping a pair of metal chopsticks
between his fingers. Then he added, with a snarky smirk. "Ryu, too. Who
knows what he's up to?"

Ryouga gave him a half lidded stare.

A second later, the two laughed lightly.

"Twenty bucks says he's probably agonizing over his report," Ryouga
replied. "Probably trying to recount every single vacuum blade he used.
'Was it 24? Or 25? I can't remember!' Ryu's reports are always either
too detailed or all but empty."

"Finished mine a couple hours ago," Mousse noted, blowing on the
steaming instant ramen. "Hardest part was the info on that girl's weird
energy. Strangest thing. I still have a little bit of it in my aura."

"That hard to expel it?" The lieutenant asked, a bit surprised. "You
never had that much trouble with the any of my techniques."

"It's not that," Mousse explained. "It's sticky, and takes a while to
separate. Nasty stuff, actually. I've never run into anything quite like
it. But once I push it out, it dissolves almost instantly. Looks a bit
like black smoke."

"Malicious?"

"It still has some killer intent in it, yeah. My technique usually
purifies the intent from the ki, but it didn't work as well with this
stuff." The Chinese fighter picked a few noodles out of the cup and
slurped them down.

Chewing, he added, "I think the problem is that the girl's powers have
an internal intent, plus her own. My technique could purge her intent,
but didn't do much against the other one. I've been thinking on and off
about a counter, in case we run into someone else with an attack like
that."

Ryouga nodded. Every technique needed continual perfection and
refinement.

"That other me had an elemental ki attack."

"Yeah, I heard. Nailed you pretty good, too."

"He could even set off breaking points with it."

"You thinking of trying to make your own version?" Mousse asked, sipping
a bit of broth from the cup. "It'd probably be useless in space, you
know... I'm metal-attuned, like Elder Fa Nu was. Whenever we hit the
upper atmosphere in a Lightning or Avenger, I can feel the flow
changing. Not like sea level at all."

"You think it wouldn't work on Mars?"

"You'd need a while to readjust. My bet? We won't have a lot of time to
meditate when we go there."

"Still..."

"A nice technique for later." Mousse sucked up a stray noodle from the
corner of his mouth before wiping the area clean with his hand. "How
come you didn't kill him, anyway?"

Ryouga thought a bit before answering that.

"First... I had a feeling the girl would lose it again and do what she
did back at the terminal. Nabiki told me she was just holding off Kuno
and not transforming. You missed it, but he was the one who calmed her
down before. If I had either one of them killed, the other would snap."

"Makes sense," Mousse agreed. "There's more, though?"

"It was the way he fought me. You know how it is: you fight someone and
you start to understand them. Their motivations. Who they are on the
inside. Like how we know Ranma really is the arrogant jerk he pretends
to be."

The other martial artist sniggered.

"The point is, he didn't feel like someone I really needed to kill. So,
I guess I didn't want to, not unless I had to. Even though he's..."
Ryouga sighed, here. "He's another damn clone. He even gave up when I
said he was putting the girl in danger. Killing a guy like that...?"

Mousse nodded, understanding what his commanding officer meant. He did,
too. He'd done his duty, just like they all had. For a few seconds, the
two men sat in silence. Nothing more needed to be said, really, not on
that topic.

"He was right, you know," the hidden weapons master finally said. "That
clone of yours."

"About what?" Ryouga asked. That him has said a lot of things, most
decidedly unflattering.

"That Three Stooges comment back in the van," Mousse answered, wrapping
up a large bundle of noodles as he talked. "You, me, Kuno. Ranma would
do something, you'd pop out of nowhere to beat him up for insulting
Akane, or her atrocious cooking, or I'd try and kill him for seducing
Shampoo, and of course the moment he got splashed - or we all got
splashed - Kuno would appear and try and molest his pigtailed girl."

"It wasn't even that long ago," Ryouga replied, grinning at the
memories. They had been a source of so much frustration at the time, but
now, from a different perspective, they were practically nostalgic.

"Jusendo was... a little less than a year ago?"

"Yeah. Hell, by that time we were practically the jerk's left and right
hand guys. Oh no, another Chinese prince captured the girls! I guess
Mousse will come to rescue Shampoo and, of course, Ryouga will end up
with Ukyou! Oh boy!" The lost one waved his arms in mocking surprise.
"When the hell did that happen?"

"It just crept in there, between the endless rounds of fights and...
weird adventures." Mousse downed the last of the ramen and broth in one
big gulp. "Like that stupid statue. And then the wedding."

"Things change?"

"Well... do you really want to still spend every day obsessing over
beating Ranma?"

"Do you want to spend every day chasing after Shampoo?"

"Hey, that's time well spent!" Mousse's canny smirk was matched by a
glint of his glasses. How did he do that? "Besides, there's no doubt
anymore that Saotome will end up with Akane, and she'll kill him before
he gets the chance to screw around with other girls. It's only a matter
of time before Shampoo realizes we're meant to be. And after Jusendo, it
isn't like there's anything more I can do to prove myself. Either it
happens or it doesn't."

"I'll tell you what I do miss, though," he quickly added, backtracking a
bit. "Flying. I hated that duck curse, but I did love to fly. Even
without the memories, I just know it."

"I'd take duck over pig any day," Ryouga grumbled. "I really got shafted
by that place. Almost any cursed spring would have been better than a
god damned piglet."

"What about Taro's curse?"

"... maybe not that one."

A short pause.

Then Mousse asked, "What are you going to do if they let that clone go?
Once they fix its memories?"

"Hell if I know!" Ryouga gave an exasperated sigh before leaning back a
bit on his bunk. "I guess I'll let mom and dad decide. We can't just
have another me running around... we'll probably have to reprogram him
as a little brother or something. Or a twin. Not like we can just toss
him in the woods to fend for himself."

"Unless their Alice in Wonderland story is true."

"If it is, this really will be the weirdest. week. ever."

- - -

It had no name.

It was designated Medic; Capture Squad Three.

It had been a medic for five iterations, some of roughly fifty Cydonian
years. Normal lifespan of a single mental faculty was six iterations
before re-absorption and modification. As a battlefield medic, it was
near the end of its operational lifespan, having been killed no less
than two times over the last year by human operatives. This was what it
was; what it was created to do; how it defined its existence within the
Sectoid Hierarchy.

It was partnered with a less experienced field commander: its squad
leader was a vat-fresh re-modification of a previous faculty. While the
medic had been sent to this assignment as a sign of "retirement" the
officer that now lead it had been included because it had yet to truly
prove itself. So it was decided by The Mind. So it was. Leader would
benefit from Medic's experience; Medic would benefit from Leader's
training and improvements.

So it was.

Medic hefted its stun bomb launcher as it walked through the thick
terran brush, approaching the area where their quarry had appeared. It
was human. It was an anomaly. It was to be captured intact and alive for
experimentation. Humans should not have been here. The operation was
only lightly defended. It had arrived in secrecy, operated in secrecy,
and survived due to secrecy. No free human could be allowed so close to
the operation, especially not one with unusual mental traits.

It would be taken.

Leader checked its Mind Probe as it approached a dark cluster of trees.
The human was nearby. He thought to the others: the soldier, the
soldier, the soldier, and the medic. Soldier and Soldier would scout
ahead to try and locate the human. It would then be paralyzed and tagged
by Leader. Medic would move in only then to finish it off. They had done
this before.

Many times.

Humans were imperfect creatures. They would gain much as their needed
parts were brought into the Sectoid Hierarchy. As other races had done.
Some, too, would become like the Ethereals. The rest would be recycled
and harvested. There was no maliciousness to the thought. There was no
disdain. There was no bitterness, even, despite being killed twice by
humans. Medic's mind was chemically incapable of such thoughts.

There was only fact and circumstance. Humans were resources. They had
been found on this planet and, like a valuable crop, they had been
tended to and allowed to grow. Found as a seed, they had blossomed into
a great tree, branches thick with ripe fruit. Occasional pickings and
pruning had been needed, and soon, it would be time to cut down the tree
and germinate new seeds. Clippings would be grafted onto other crops
elsewhere as needed. This was the function of a human being and the
human race as a whole.

So it was.

For this human; for all humans.

Soft flakes of earthly snow began to fall as the group split up. Medic
paid it little mind at first, as they pursued their quarry along a route
parallel to the base of operations, concealed carefully within the
forest. It was expected that this human-thing would be moving either
away or towards the base, not in a meandering and uneven arc around it
and to the north. Leader signaled, and Soldier and Medic picked up the
pace.

Lanky forms pushed through the thick foliage with a wiry and unexpected
strength. They knew exactly the route they needed to take, guided as
they were by The Mind and the landed ship Navigators nearby. Sectoid
bodies were minimalist and utilitarian - there was no wasted or
extraneous biomatter. It gave them a remarkable speed and stamina,
regardless of their less than impressive size when compared to certain
other creatures, such as Mutons or Snakemen. Slick skin bare to the
elements, feet bare against the cold rough ground, they moved with
silence and deadly precision.

It was then that the snowfall began to intensify.

Medic wiped away a small accumulation of it from his eyes, blinking with
clear cartilaginous membranes that were designed to harden against the
vacuum of space, like blast shields. More of the white stuff came down
where only a few flurries had fallen before. It was unexpected. While
some seasonal snow fall was planned for, there had been no warning of a
storm developing. It was an unforeseen complication.

It clung to their arms and faces, but Leader, Medic and Soldier paid it
no mind. The cold did not bother them; did not affect them. Their
weapons, too, could withstand such minor environmental disturbances. It
made it more difficult for the two scouts, Soldier and Soldier, to pin
down their prey. That was the biggest problem. Then, as soon as it
began, the snow storm died down into a mere dusting.

'Halt,' Leader thought. They did so.

One of the scouts, Soldier, was not responding. The Mind passed this on.
Something had happened to it. Leader considered the situation and
ordered them to investigate. They moved quickly, one and a half the
normal pace, to Soldier's last known position. Medic briefly considered
whether it was possible the human had done something: set a trap, or
laid an ambush. After being killed by humans in the course of his duty,
Medic knew not to underestimate them.

They soon came on Soldier.

He lay, broken, crushed by the weight of a particularly large branch. It
had to have been brought down by the sudden snow fall, the weight
weakening the dead wood. The heaviest part of it had landed directly on
Soldier, breaking its spine and the back of its skull. There hadn't even
been time to relay information to The Mind. It was fortunate that
Sectoids, unlike the more dynamic Ethereals, had routine backups of
their current iteration. Soldier would be restored from those records
back on Cydonia; he would serve until he was no longer needed, and then
his next iteration would replace him.

There was nothing to salvage, now.

'Clean it up,' Leader thought.

Medic did as ordered, placing a disintegration packet over the body. The
three aliens backed up, and a moment later, the external casing
vaporized and the universal solvent went to work. Within moments, flesh,
bone, wood and snow were dissolved into a puddle of greasy organic
matter on the forest floor. It would harden in minutes and eventually
end up a spattering of carbon residue. There would be nothing left.
Soldier - standing by Leader's side - held his former comrade's weapons
and kit.

This was unforeseen: an accident like this.

They resumed the hunt, following the direction of the scout-Soldier, who
was still active and in pursuit. Minutes passed, and regular updates
came from The Mind. Soldier finally had a visual on the human intruder,
but his position had nearly been given away by an abrupt sinkhole he
nearly tripped into. It was strange. Solider should have been cautious
enough to never worry over such a thing.

No matter: Leader had the location of the human. Medic, too, shared in
the sight, through Soldier's eyes. The human was a mere child. Her
appearance was unusual, with a mass of pink hair growing out of her
skull, pulled sharply back into an elaborate and most inefficient
facsimile of style, and dark clothing that did little to conceal her
against the white snowfall. At the moment, she seemed semi-alert to some
sort of danger, glancing around anxiously.

"Hey!" she called out, slowly turning around. "Someone there? Hello?"

Leader's mind reached out across the void.

Medic and Soldier rushed ahead, watching their prey with one eye,
through the scout's senses, while keeping track of their actual
surroundings with the other. FEAR. Fear would be the first weapon used.
It was the easiest and the most versatile. The human mind buried its
fear conditioning within primitive, animal-instinct based parts of the
brain. It was a simple matter to manipulate the senses to trigger fear:
indistinct, irrational, horrific.

The girl spun around, unleashing some sort of... pink fire.

The target was some imagined horror in the bushes. Rather than burst
into flames, as would have been expected, a large swath of the dead or
dying plant material simply seemed to . . . disintegrate, but not to
ash, just to pieces.  She turned around again, scout-Soldier lining her
up in the sights of its weapon. She had her arm over her mouth and nose,
and she fired off another strange burst of pink, in the form of a broad
crescent this time and aimed at a random stand of trees. Like a massive
human scythe, the pink energy hewed down a half a dozen trees of varying
diameters with distressing ease.  The scouting Soldier was forced to
dive out of the way as one of the collapsing trees randomly began to
fall toward it.

Medic could sense anxiety growing in itself, and in those around it.
These abilities were extremely dangerous, a direct hit would likely
prove instantly lethal.  In response to this unexpected threat, Medic
sensed Leader bring its power to bear, focusing its psionic might on the
human female.

FEAR.

Fear would come first. Leader taught her fear.

Next would come domination.

Medic rushed over a fallen log alongside Soldier, heading towards their
now frightful prey. Medic readied his stun bomb launcher. In his mind,
he saw and felt Leader project his will.

DOMINATION.

With her senses bombarding her with whatever irrational fears humans
had, she would be vulnerable to a single overwhelming desire to give up:
to curl into a ball and surrender. Medic had seen it many times before.

The girl stumbled, cursed in some human tongue, and ran.

Medic felt Leader's confusion and frustration through The Mind, and the
link they had as members of the capture group. The girl was afraid. How
was she able to come to her senses and run when Leader's will was to
stay, to cower, to give in? Had the suggestion failed?

'Caution. She is an enhanced human.'

Leader's thoughts mirrored those of The Mind.

Medic and Soldier caught up to scout-Solider as they followed the
panicked human. It was running haphazardly through the forest now; its
speed and agility were unprecedented among normal humans.  Only the
Trenchards and human 'Martial Artists' had proven capable of such feats
to date. Were it not for the hazardous terrain and the prey's panic,
they would be utterly incapable of keeping pace. More distressing, was
the manner in which it was shrugging off Leader's attempts to properly
subdue it. It had some sort of resistance to suggestion or domination.
That would make capture more difficult, but no less inevitable.

Medic raced ahead when, to his shock, the Soldier next to it tripped and
fell on a patch of ice.  That was unexpected; Sectoid feet were designed
to find traction, even on slick or slippery surfaces. It was highly
improbable that one would lose footing in such a way. As Soldier got
back up, Medic and scout-Soldier continued on ahead. The human made an
abrupt turn, jumping an unexpectedly long distance over a thick brush
and into the branches of a tree. It was a fleet footed display.

Fortune appeared to be on Medic's side now, however.  As the female
prepared to leap again, likely to escape their pursuit entirely.  One of
the larger branches of the trees had become entangled in the fabric of
her garment.  The quirk of luck ended up costing her valuable seconds as
she battled to free herself-

Medic paused and sighted.

The stun bomb launched with a 'whuuf' of displaced air. The small pellet
was already programmed with distance to target, and when within two
meters of the human girl, the outer shell disintegrated. A cloud of
paralyzing gas enveloped the tree top, and a psionic disruption could be
felt by the aliens even on the ground. Up in the tree, the human wobbled
and lost her footing.  With a loud tearing sound, as her skirt tore free
from the entangling branch, she then fell back and into the bushes,
hitting her side against the tree on the way down. Clumps of snow fell
from the branches higher up.

Medic lowered its launcher as it approached where the girl had fallen.

'Take her,' Leader's mind flared.

So it was.

- - -

Leader moved forward cautiously. While it had full confidence in its own
abilities, and full confidence in the inferiority of its human subject,
this situation was not ideal. Leader was still inexperienced at mental
interrogation, being so recently introduced to his post. And something
was unusual about this human, something which the Leader could not
quantify without further study.

As it floated, formless, through the vast reaches of the human female's
mindscape - the unending ocean of dark swathes of purple and black
flowing, rising and ebbing all around him not unlike the seas of the
Earth itself - the Leader was finding it difficult to find any purchase
in its insinuation.

This was an . . . unanticipated development. Leader had interrogated
humans previously, and had received the memories of a thousand-thousand
other such interrogations from the Mind as well. At this point in his
insinuation, it should have already located the subject's conscious mind
and fabricated a mental construct around it to begin breaking through
whatever feeble defenses the human could muster.

The fact that the Leader had not yet been able to locate the subject's
mind was disconcerting, a sensation which the Sectoid had never
experienced before, and was never intended to feel.

'Hey there, buddy, whatchya up to?'

Instantly, Leader lashed out -

SUBMIT

A wave of psionic energy surged out in every direction... and just kept
going, and going. The power of its mental command seemed to slide over
the surface of the roiling ocean not unlike a bead of oil over water.

'Hey now. None of that, I never let a guy get in my . . . head, on the
first date,' the disembodied voice called out smugly.

Leader was, to not mince terms, confused. Here, in the mind of the
human, it did not have access to the infinite wisdom of the Mind, only
its own limited experience. Still, this resistance was unprecedented.
Rather than a powerful will opposing his own, or a mental block of some
sort to resist its power, there was nothing.

SUBMIT he commanded more forcefully.

Again the psionic power washed out in every direction, meeting no
resistance at all as it skittered across the surface of the metaphorical
ocean.

'Okay, seriously, you're starting to tick me off. Just get outta here,
already.'

'You will submit,' Leader explained matter-of-factly. 'You are human.
You will submit.'

A sense of amusement washed over the leader, a distasteful, foreign
sensation. 'You might be right. The Headmaster always told me I was a
little soft in the head. Of course, he also taught me how to deal with
pesky types like you, if I really, really need to.'

The Leader spread out its perceptions as far as he dared in this alien
mind. It strained itself nearly to breaking, searching for the source,
the mind which taunted it, but still, nothing.

'The Headmaster figured that odds were gonna be that anyone with enough
brain power would likely be strong enough to break me like a twig in
here, so he taught me a valuable lesson.' There was a pregnant pause
which seemed to linger forever. 'When dealing with someone stronger than
you,. sometimes the only way to win is to deny them battle.'

The Leader could not comprehend the bizarre concept which the human
spoke of. There was no mind that could not be broken with sufficient
power. And in a battle of the minds, it was always the more powerful
mind that dominated. How could a feeble subject such as this, admittedly
so, thwart an engineered Sectoid Leader?

Uncertain, the Leader fell back on the accumulated experience he had
been imprinted with. Mental probes of every conceivable nature reached
out throughout the mindscape, but it was too vast to possibly cover all
at once. It did not know what else to do. It had never met such a lack
of resistance before. With no mind to clash against, no opponent to
battle, then how could it bring its greater psionic power to bear?

Perhaps it could -

In an instant, Leader's eyes snapped open. The distant and vague
sensation of pain ran up along its back. It took a moment to assimilate
the situation, as it reintegrated with the Mind and its fellow Sectoids.

... For some reason, the Leader was on its back, on the floor.

A quick glance revealed that the seat it had been sitting on - a
projection of metallic alloy which could flow down into the floor when
not in use - had apparently malfunctioned, sinking halfway into the
floor and dropping him onto the ground as it did. Most curious indeed.
Such a malfunction was statistically improbable. Leader would need to
speak to an Engineer in regards to it.

Still, it did not matter. Leader's interrogation had been an unexpected
failure. The subject's unusual mode of psionic protection was not
something that had been sampled before and would require a more
experienced or creative interrogator to decipher. The Ethereal in charge
of this facility would be made aware of this by the Mind. When it
returned from its mission, it would most assuredly break this subject's
defenses.

The subject was, after all, only human.

In the meantime, there were other duties which Leader needed to attend
to. With a curt mental summons, Leader contacted a sublimated hybrid-
human located in a different section of the facility. Leader fired off a
series of mental commands for her to begin a thorough physical
examination of the human. The Sectoid did not even acknowledge the
female's psionic response as he left the examination room.

Leader needed to prepare the containment area for the Ethereal's return.

- - -

She came from the Pens.

The Mind summoned, and she followed its will; the other experiments
would wait, at least for a time. Walking by Block One, bare feet making
a soft and secretly satisfying crunching sound against the newly fallen
snow, she watched Onishi and Shidehara jostle playfully in their pen.
Onishi was the largest of Litter Sixteen, and he reared up and gnashed
his teeth in a show of dominance over his smaller brother. Claws longer
than a human hand rent the ground as Shidehara displayed his agitation,
followed by a few ultrasonic barks.

She walked by and whistled to the two, breaking it up before either had
the chance to bite into the other's shaggy, thick hide. The two
creatures, each more than three meters tall at the haunches, huffed and
whined at her disproval. There was to be no bloodletting in the Pens.
There was a time and a place for that. Glittering red eyes watched her
from under a mat of brown fur, or, in Onishi's case, a dirty silver.

Pen Three was also on the way, and she noted with approval that the
three females within were nestled calmly in the snow, their muzzles wet
from eating it. Environmental contaminants were a constant problem, but
she had persuaded The Mind that there were benefits to free range
testing at this stage in the experiment. The Reapers were hardy
creatures, after all. There were few things on this planet that could
harm the children of Litter Sixteen.

Red eyes, more intelligent than they let on, watched her.

She met the look, untroubled by the living terror weapons. They existed
for her; she existed for them. Sixteen generations in eight weeks,
following two weeks of preliminary testing. From birth to accelerated
development to chemically induced maturation to medically assisted death
to autopsy, she had held them as they emerged from the tank and her
hands were the last thing they felt before they died. The Mind gave her
existence; this existence. It was. There was nothing else. Even death
could not threaten this absolute statement of purpose. It simply was.

So to, were the pups of Litter Sixteen. Their purpose was to become
smarter and better than the pups of Litter Fifteen. In turn, Litter
Seventeen would be superior still. And so on, until The Mind was
satisfied. Reapers were naturally very dim witted creatures, far too
prone to going berserk or falling into a blood lust. Their masters, the
Floaters, treated them like disposable toys on a battlefield, there
merely to sow terror in the defenseless and soak up weapons fire from
the well armed. Her new breed would be smarter, more cunning, more
rational under fire.

They would be a new terror weapon to set against the resisting.

This was the Will of The Mind, the consensus of which she was a part, so
it would be.

As faint flurries continued to fall, she approached the door of the
landed Harvester. The sight of it always brought an indistinct feeling,
hazy and distant. It was a memory, of course, suppressed as unnecessary.
Only those memories pertinent to the experiment, to the mission, were
active within her. The previous iteration had been a failure, she knew,
and it was likely due to having too many pointless memories active that
did nothing but interfere with duty and service. Ideally, the next
version of her - like her litters of Reaper pups - would be superior
still, having the best of her and additional improvements deemed
worthwhile by The Mind.

The smooth alloy door opened, and she followed the will of The Mind to
one of the medical operations chambers, ancillary to the primary surgery
theater. A Sectoid soldier stood nearby, along with a medic. The medic,
who had been waiting for her, turned and they walked side by side into
the chamber. Inside was a most curious sight.

Leader - one of several - was on the floor, disoriented.

Her unspoken query as to his status was immediately answered: something
unusual had transpired within a captured human's mind, and, curiously,
at the same time a malfunction in the deck's mimetic plating had
occurred. Further details were deemed unnecessary, and were to be
disseminated on the order of the Base Commander. Very strange.

She turned to see the captured human. It was a girl, young, with the
most striking pink hair. Her complexion was pale, and something about
her attire triggered another unnecessary memory, long since suppressed.
Did it have some sort of meaning? A social queue? Did it indicate a
preference for some human social mores? These things were an unknown,
though once she may have known without contacting The Mind. She was a
small human girl, however, and she seemed harmless.

Leader thought - rather hard and fast - and projected his orders into
her mind.

The mental probing of the human was put on hold; her medical examination
would come first. She would assist Medic in this, as the base was short
handed on staff trained for operations on humans. They were to put her
through the standard array of tests. She would be tagged and scanned:
probes up the nose and into the brain cavity would be first, then behind
the eyes. Rectal and vaginal samples would be archived, of course, along
with skin samples from various points on the body. Bone marrow
extraction and total reproductive viability would be next, followed by a
mental mapping and initial brain tap. The subject would then be rested
for six terrestrial hours before more rigorous examination and eventual
harvesting, depending on the mental probe.

She started removing the subject's clothes while Medic prepared the
first battery of probes. It had been a long time since she had even seen
human clothes - she vaguely remembered tatters, white and black and blue
and red - but it was unnecessary.  It came and went. The human attire
was multi-layered and wasteful. There was no concept of modesty within
The Mind, only practicality. She wore the habit of the Ethereals, as was
her importance and strategic value within the will of The Mind. Still,
she did not cut away the human's clothes; experience with abductions
indicated the human would want it for emotional comfort between
examination periods. It would help keep her sedate. That was all.

'We shall begin,' Medic thought, approaching with the nasal probe.

'Yes,' she thought, leaning back to give him room.

'Releasing paralysis effect to provide sensory feedback.'

She activated the function in the examination table using her mind. It
was simple, really, crude even. Abductor craft had specialized equipment
that could provide a great range of options when it came to activating
or deactivating the senses and body chemistry of a subject. This was a
Harvester. It was designed for harvesting, mostly of humans and other
terrestrial animals. There was very little between 'on' and 'off.'

She - she knew this first hand.

Yes: many of her Reapers had ended their lives upon this same table. And
also... also...

The captive girls' eyes opened wide, blinked, stared in mute shock and
dawning horror.

'Beginning intrusion.'

She reached to the girl's forehead to restrain her, just in case she had
any movement in her neck. The subjects would often try and thrash about,
even though it was pointless. No amount of willpower could force nerves
to fire. All the most desperate could hope to achieve was to spasm a
little in their death throes. She --- she had - had - memories of it?

Her palm found the girl's forehead, and she felt a spark.

A flash of pink light.

The haze lifted, just a bit, and the comforting blanket of The Mind
withdrew. In an instant, rose colored glasses turned a dirty black.
Medic, who she had known and worked with for a month, stared at her with
blank inhuman eyes. The sterile walls of the Harvester turned from
mundane to nightmarish. For the first time since she left the tube, she
screamed. She actually screamed.

Her body remembered how to scream.

Medic whirled on her, instantly sensing her disconnect from The Mind,
much less hearing her inarticulate howls. She acted out of instinct,
pushing him away as hard as she could. Her mind spun as she looked
around, found the anal probe set against the washing station, and swung
it down and in an arc, bludgeoning the stunned Medic over and over. Her
throat - with a voice she had nearly forgotten how to use - went hoarse
even as Medic slumped into a heap, pale blood seeping from a gash in its
head.

She clutched her mouth, feeling something hot coming up.

'What -- what is -- what is this?' she thought (or did she speak?),
staring at the slime she had coughed up. A memory, a useless memory,
came back, and she fell back, trying to shake the watery vomit from her
hands. The room spun, despite her standing still. She thought,
projected, reached for The Mind, then recoiled in horror.

She had... she had to get away.

She had to!

Leader had taken Soldier to the upper level. They had to know. They had
to be coming!

Frantic, she reached for the mental trigger embedded in the operations
table. It didn't come quite as easily as before; her mind was unfocused
and reeling from things he didn't even know it knew. After a long
terrible second, it complied, and released all restriction levels. The
paralysis field powered down and she scrambled to her feet as the other
girl came to.

Akari couldn't -

Couldn't let it happen again -

- - -

- - -









DATE: 11.02.2006
MEMORANDUM TO: [REDACTED]
FROM: [REDACTED]

SUBJECT: Trenchard: Akari Unryu

POB: Maebashi, Japan
NAT: Japanese
DOB: 06.11.1989
DOD: 10.09.2006 (est)
AGE: 17
HEIGHT: 5'6" (167cm)
BUILD: Typical
WEIGHT: 110 lbs (49.9kg)
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Black/Brown (pink streak)

SUMMARY PROFILE:

Prior to abduction and harvesting, A. Unryu was a student at Ota
Academy; grades were average, placement in national exams average.
Between 2004 and 2005, deteriorating health of surviving family member
(grandfather: S. Unryu.) prompted her to travel across country to make
marriage arrangements. Pertinently, this involved searching for a
'martial artist' able to defeat one of her family's trained animals. At
the time of her meeting and engagement to Lt. R. Hibiki (Seiran: CT
India) this animal "Katsunishiki" weighed approximately 3000 lbs
(1360kg).

In addition to normal pig breeding, the Unryu family also engaged in
development of animals for the unrecognized sport of "non-human sumo."
Intel believes that it was this activity that drew the attention first
of alien scouts and researchers, who engaged first in typical cattle
mutilation, and later outright Harvest. Other farms in the area have
been victimized, but not attacked outright.

A detailed overview of Unryu Genetic Manipulation and Selective Breeding
is included in Appendix (A). Very little was recovered from the Unryu
Farm post-abduction; all notes were archived by hand and virtually all
biological samples were taken or destroyed. Preliminary studies indicate
that Unryu family members were able to psionically manipulate the
development of their animals to increase selection pressures and promote
beneficial mutations. Allegedly, A. Unryu was extremely adept at this.

Recovered biological samples (of the original) indicate a high
probability that A. Unryu was included in the alien Trenchard Production
Effort, whereby certain individuals are harvested for their abilities or
unique skills. As such, it is likely that both her knowledge and her
genetic makeup are part of the Gestalt Mind and the possibility exists
that effort may be made to create a hybrid version of her (either
Sectoid or Ethereal) to better utilize her talents. If encountered in
the field; recommend capture and containment as high priority.

(full medical record and preliminary psychological profile enclosed)




##

BROTHER EYE PROTOCOLS
TOP CLEARANCE REQUIRED

SUBJECT: 6897
CODENAME: Jinx
REAL NAME: *Unknown*

SPECIES: Human
HEIGHT: 5'6"
WEIGHT: 95lbs
HAIR COLOR: Pink
EYE COLOR: Pink

KNOWN ABILITIES:  The Subject's abilities are... difficult to define.
High levels of energy generation have been demonstrated, though the
exact nature of the power generated defies analysis at this point in
time.  The Subject, when questioned about her powers, described them as
being 'bad luck', or an abstract ability to affect causality.  Neither
of these could be confirmed.  Though, when the Subject was asked to
demonstrate her abilities, certain unusual and abstract occurrences were
recorded, such as machines spontaneously shutting down, otherwise solid
objects spontaneously suffering from structural failure, and even acts
which could only be described as 'pure serendipity', it is impossible to
determine if the Subject's powers are acting in such a way as to affect
causality or if her powers are simply acting on a subconscious level
that even she is unaware of.  The Subject is also a highly trained
martial artist, possessing physical traits of super human level.
Strength, endurance and resilience are all far in excess of a baseline
human of her height, weight and gender.  Agility, reflexes and
flexibility are all Olympic level or higher. Subject has also
demonstrated several 'Secret Techniques', taught to her by Subject:
9781: Codename: Happosai.  Thus far, it is unclear if these esoteric
abilities are actually martial in nature or merely new applications of
her existing power set.

EXPLOITABLE WEAKNESSES:  The Subject has demonstrated no obvious
weaknesses to exploit at this time. Analysis of fighting style indicates
that a more straight forward, brute force attack is more difficult for
her to counter.  Due to the nature of her powers, heavily armed or
unorthodox opponents will be at a disadvantage.  Highest Probability of
incapacitating the Subject is to attack her head on using only pure
martial arts. *Special Note: Subject has received limited personal
training from Subject: 002: Codename: Batman specifically to overcome
this weakness in her combat style.  Extreme caution should be used in
apprehending the Subject.

KNOWN HISTORY:  Very little of the Subject's history is known.  First
recorded appearance of the Subject was as a member of the Organization
Designation: H.I.V.E. Academy.  After the destruction of the Academy,
the Subject vanished from view again.  The subject did not resurface
until several months later, in the company of Happosai, having become
his disciple for unknown reasons.  The Subject battled the criminal
Subject: 839: Codename: Killer Croc and defeated him.  The Subject then
spent time in the tutelage of Batman before travelling to Steel City and
again vanishing from observation.  Latest reports have shown the Subject
in Jump City, acting in a supporting role to the Team Designation: Teen
Titans.  Subject's objectives and motivations are currently unknown;
further research is required.

CURRENT THREAT LEVEL: C

PERSONAL NOTE:  I know this will sound strange to hear me say, but... I
like this girl.  True, she's cocky, brash, sarcastic and she tried to
hotwire the Batmobile while I was out of the Batcave, but... in a way, I
find she actually reminds me somewhat of... of Jason.  Just like him,
she's also all but bursting with potential.  If she could be properly
moulded, away from the warped ideals of the likes of Brother Blood and
Happosai, she could have the potential of being a great hero.  Perhaps I
am slightly biased here, Jinx being the only one of Dick's
friends/enemies that I have actually met in person, but I am considering
recommending that he take her in officially.  Not only would there be no
fear of him growing overly attached to her, and unable to act as a
proper leader, but she's already quite smitten with that Hibiki boy, and
is actively pursuing him anyway.  I would be a hypocrite if I said I
couldn't see the allure of turning a hardened criminal back from a life
of crime, and, frankly, after meeting Happosai just once, and knowing
that she had been subjected to his presence for several months...
honestly, that girl deserves any happiness she can find.

##