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This article, K21 - Lost Chapters, is a community project. While you are free to edit, please do not edit or delete anything written by another user without their permission.

An archive of Ghost_K literature that was never added into finished canonical works.

WARNING
THE EVENTS PORTRAYED HERE ARE EXTRA-CANONICAL

K21/1 - Take Me There

WARNING
May actually be a porno

The infamous lost story that was wiped from the site, now known as K21 - Dusty Blinds, Take Me There was intended to introduce the protagonist of Jacinta Hansen as the first part of the K21 Sqaured series while detailing the tribulations she faced through her inner thoughts transposed upon a third person narrative. However, due to the numerous criticisms over the poor quality of the prose and the countless satirical responses it inspired, Take Me There was completely rewritten with almost everything shy of the central plot being scrapped, with the scenes of a sexual nature finding themselves removed as the writer focused on developing Jacinta's character further through a more consistent format.

Of course, the rewrite did not diminish Take Me There's legacy, as other users took to quoting sections of the story (particularly "barley clothed" and "cry scream") in order to annoy the creator. Eventually, this lead to Take Me There being completely erased from the wiki through the deletion and selective restoration of the K21/1 - Dusty Blinds page. Loyal fans of Take Me There had already anticipated that this could potentially occur, thus they stored a version of it in Google Docs (now Google Drive) where it could be wheeled out for personal amusement. Eventually, the author saw the funny side of his tragically funny opening and accepted the terrible first draft of K21 Squared. Thus, for your enjoyment, it is featured here as a testament to what the series could have been...

The story until now. Bad choices; learning the hard way.

Drugs. Well isn't that a great way to start a story. But get a load of this: Teenage girl drug dealer. Doesn't that sound sweet!? Think of the money! You'll be loaded as hell before you even finish school!

Well that's what I thought anyway. I was broke as crap, kicked out of the house and living on the street, so I thought why the hell not?

I mean I wasn't going to smoke it or anything. A stoner was the last thing I wanted to be. Yeah let's just smoke weed and live at fucking 100 kilos wearing a bed-sheet around the house! The closest thing I wanted to get to that was the chick that sold the damn thing to the guy.

So yeah, that's what I planned on doing, and I managed to actually get some work. Drug trafficking. I had to get any amount of the drug from point a to point b without being caught - and they decided to give it to me. Apparently transporting the stuff via vehicles was too risky, and so they gave the job to random strangers. So yeah, they pack you full of as much as you can carry, put an armband around your wrist and sent you on your way. Dunno what the armband did though...

So, several credits later I finished my first job. And soon enough it became my tenth, and then it kept going.

Well I wasn't the dealer unfortunately, but I still got paid a bit. Getting paid for walking for a half an hour looking as least suspicious as possible was bloody easy. So it was fine I guess. Enough to go to some random corner shop and get some damn food. I thought, 'well I could just work up from here'.

Now it's been a fornight, and that's how I ended up here. It was just a normal drug run - you know? Nothing too serious...

Cold rain. Rushing. Broken routine.

Jacinta strode purposefully down a noisy street, dodging people as second-nature. She was only concentrating on the destination, and nothing else, holding her bag strap over shoulder loosely. The gravity of her actual situation was oblivious to her, she was a natural at this for sure. It was night, and raining. But night meant nothing to the city, as it was alive with bright neon colours illuminating the landscape in an eerie cool glaze. She calculated the amount of time she had left before her pay would expire, and then suddenly took a fast left into an alleyway. She was running late.

The light escaped from around her. The alley was tight, about half a meter thick for a couple of hundred metres. "Come on..." She grumbled. It was as if the buyers were deliberately wasting their time so that they didn't have to pay. She slipped out, and found herself on a ledge, looking down into some underground tech dealing bazaar of some sort.

"The Illegal kind, haha.. what else."

Things like arm-retracting bionic machine guns and ornamental ceramic blades were anything but law friendly.

"Where the hell am I?" She pondered.

This alley way was supposed to take her to the next block, wasn't it? "Shit..." She cursed.

Time was short. Chillingly short. She didn't even want to begin thinking about how the buyers would react to late deliveries, especially with lone teenage girls. She wandered down into the bustling mobs in the marketplace in an attempt to find her way out of the place, but every alleyway led to several more, and several more within those. It was an endless cycle, and she was lost in no time. She should have just gone back to where she came, and began to curse herself for that. It was dark. Very dark. Only a bizarre orange light made her surroundings, and the hundreds of people around her barley visible. She could smell a sickly sweet fragrance. Kinda like liquorice, and it was putridly strong.

"Atmospheric as a fucking brothel." She muttered to herself. She crossed her arms and looked around nastily. To be honest, she wouldn't even be surprised if this was a sex slavery market too.

She caught a glimpse of a barley clothed girl with long turquoise hair in the distance.

"Well wouldn't you know!" She thought jokingly, rolling her eyes in disgust. such low-lifes, really.

She began to keep walking, fast. There had to be some way out of here. In the hurry she bumped into a large, muscular man lathered in tattoos. Not apologising, she kept moving, but he grabbed her arm and holstered her back.

"Well looky here. Hello hello missy!" He grumbled. He was a very built, tanned man, with a shaggy scarred face, and filthy dreadlocks. The lowest kind of backstreet mugger. Jacinta had to deal with these guys almost every day it seemed.

"Let me go." She sighed.

"Boys!" He boomed "Look what I picked me-self up!" Followed by a wheezing laugh. Suddenly she was surrounded by many other men of equal size, all buff, gnarled... and drunk as they come. She could tell they were looking for some filthy fun.

"Oh woo hoo, it's steroid central" She came sarcastic, endlessly tugging her arm, struggling to be released from the man's grip.

The man grabbed her by her shirt collar and lifted her up. Her neck and the rest of her body hurt, and she had to hoist herself up, grabbing his arm, to stop herself choking.

"Whats a little gal like you doin all the way down 'ere?" Came one of them.

"Wow, what a fucking talker. Do ya ever shut the fuck up?" He grumbled. "Why don't I shove somethin in there to keep ya quiet!?"

"That's fucking disgusting" She said plainly "I'm sure all the girls bloody love you for that line" She was beginning to feel scared. But she didn't really care about that. "Has the roids blocked out your ears or something? Put me down!!" She whimpered

"Didn't ya mummy ever teach you some manners" Came one of the others. They had all closed in on her. She was trapped.

"Well I'm sorry to break it to you buddy, but both your parents are men." She choked, as the man's hand came closer to strangling her. Nasty comments were a first-line defence for her. But, that didn't mean she was tough all the way through...

They all laughed hysterically, before the man holding her broke the silence, yelling in her face.

"I'm gunna make you cry and scream ya bitch. You're gunna be my little slave. You're gunna be the place's whore." He snarled.

The man dropped her onto the ground hard, and they all came for her. But she didn't care. Deep down, she wasn't so tough as she seemed. Deep down she was wounded, she always has been, and now...

"I don't fucking... care"

She felt so many hands touching her, all closing in, with the sound of sadistic laughter.

"I don't care... I don't care..." Her sadness consumed her. She held it back for so long, but she didn't care for anything any more. She wasn't worth it. She let it consume her. Her shirt was slowly being be pulled off... "I fucking deserve this." She lied. But for some reason, it felt right as it came out. To her, she did deserve this. This pain. Tears came, hard, and it the wave of emotion bottled up for so long hit her.

"Mummy.. it.. hurts" She whimpered ever so softly.

She felt something, a weird energetic sensation slip up inside her, and suddenly, it slipped away, like a bad dream.

She opened her eyes, and was pulled back into reality with a bang. She was hit with shock, pillars of rock, in all directions, protruding out of the ground. They had all knocked them back.

She choked, barley being able to hold in the tide of raw emotion and shock that was swelling up within her. Her loss of hope became twisted confusion.

She flexed her fingers, and immediately four boulders erupted from the ground with the sound of strewn debris. They began to eerily orbit around her.

"IT'S ME!?" She screamed.

Jacinta stumbled back, no way this was happening. More rocks burst out from the floor and orbited around her. It was unstoppable tremendous elemental power, that she obviously had all along. And now, out of the blue, it burst fourth - and she couldn't stop it. Even the slightest moment caused it to only grow stronger.

"Little. Bitch" Cursed the man. He was on his feet again, holding a wound on his chest tight to halt the relentless bleeding.

Jacinta held out her hand towards the man, expecting her power to aid her. But there came no response.

"WHAT...THE!?" She started hyperventilating.

The man wheezed, exhaling out with a phlegm chocked laugh. All he saw was a dumb little child, somebody that he could take advantage of to fuel his ego and fill his pleasure.

"Just a dumb... little bitch. I get want I want... always." He snarled, spitting out blood. Slowly, he struggled forward across the rubble and the remains of his now mutilated gang.

"Ya even know who I am...?" He stammered. He was intent on crushing what little hope she had left within her fragile, shivering frame. For then he'd go for his prize. It was her choice for coming down into his territory after all. Jacinta was completely terrified, she didn't know what on earth was happening. She didn't even know she was capable of this power, but apparently she was, but then immediately after she wasn't? It felt all too useless!

She flexed her fingers again, and the area around her exploded in a flurry of upturned concrete, splaying itself against the low roof. "AAAAHHHH!!!! STOP!!" She screamed. She couldn't hold it in any more, it was too much. Far too much.

"NONE OF THIS IS MAKING ANY SENSE!!"

She collapsed onto her knees, hands to her eyes, and she cried. Sobbed hard, whimpering and shivering from the tension. All her emotion erupted out, and all she could do was let it come out. It really hit her this time, and she promised herself that she wouldn't cry on-job...

*Sniff*

"Dammit..." She whispered. A warm, gentle hand touched her on the shoulder, and everything then muffled away into obscurity. She could barley make out somebody walking in front of her. She felt sick and couldn't breathe; exhausted down to the very last breath. She collapsed, and everything descended into blackness.

*

Consciousness. Unfamiliarity.

*Gasp*

Jacinta awoke.

A grey ceiling focussed into view as the feeling returned to her body. The room smelled clean and cool. It was concrete, with a square light sunken into the ceiling over the edge of the bed she was in. The room was silent, broken only by the cutting flitter of a fan in the distance. She began to feel a very weird uneasy feeling. Where was she?

"What the hell... happened? She breathed. She kept her voice down as a precaution. She tired to move out of bed, but was met with a seething stabbing pain in her legs. Oh great, was this a paralytic drug or something? She collapsed her head back onto the pillow behind her in annoyance. She exhaled again. Worry continually consumed her, and she kept breathing, keeping her mind on other things to filter it out.

She could hear footsteps in the distance. Shoes tapping against cold concrete, echoing.

"Brrr it's freezing in here." Came a voice. It was cheerful, feminine, and young. And it made her sick; Hinting at her some bad memories that she long expelled from her mind.

"What, I'm going to get a nice warm greeting by some dysfunctional family or something." She muttered to herself. "Fuck me."

She looked at her hand. It was grazed and it stung. She flexed it tentatively, but it felt normal this time. It was as if, 'before', was just a dream.

"Oh, you're awake." Came the voice, close now. Jacinta looked up at her sitting upwards. Around five foot tall, with long turquoise hair tied up in a ponytail. Warm, pink eyes.

"Hi." came Jacinta, neutrally.

"...Mhm... well then. Hello!" She said warmly, putting on a smile as best she could despite Jacinta's hostility.

"Short shorts and that skank shirt... haha what are you, the local whore?" Replied Jacinta blanky, even sniggering.

Hostility was all that she was used to anyway, warm fuzziness made her uncomfortable, and she hated that. She hated things she couldn't control.

She looked away to her right, then crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. She burst into laughter, And Jacinta was surprised.

"Ahahaha... oh dear.." She covered her mouth and kept giggling. She then looked at Jacinta, and said with her hand still on her mouth.

"You're a hostile one aren't you? haha."

"Why are you laughing?"

She chuckled a little more before swallowing it down, so she could talk properly to her. She stood up straight again, arms still crossed.

"I just saved you from dying and you make fun of me like that. It was funny that's all."

"Hmm!" Jacinta looked away angrily. Dammit, she felt like a dumb little kid, and now she was positive that she blew her only chance at finding a half decent place to stay. 'Good one Jacinta.' she thought.

"Are you done?"

"Huh?"

"Don't worry, I'm not in the slightest insulted. I get worse when I go to pick up supplies. " She giggled slightly.

It was as if that girl could read her emotions. What the hell? She smiled again; such a kind smile. and continued with

"What's your name?"

"Hmm." Sadder this time. Dammit, these warm feelings again.

"W.. Why should I tell you?" She snapped, though her aggression was held back. "Because... I want to get to know you." She replied.

No reply. Alison then sat down at the end of the bed, looking downwards, before making eye contact again.

"Well why don't I start. I'm Alison Katsura, and I'm a guardian."

"Guardian? Seriously? Came Jacinta, out of her silence.

"Yep!"

"Aren't you guys suppressed by the government or something?"

"Well, yeah that's what we want the general public to think. But heck no, suppression is boring!"

Jacinta laughed a little, before holding it back fiercely - Out of habit. However, she let stopped and let the warmth come back again.

She looked up at Alison and said without a glimmer of hostility

"I'm Jacinta."

"Jacinta" Came Alison. "That's a pretty name!"

"Wait.. R..really?" She'd never heard that before.

Alison smiled.

"Mhm" Came Jacinta, softly. That couldn't be true. All she's known, all that she was used to is... ugly, goth. It was on the brink of being too much for her, already.

"Why are you being.." She trailed off. She wanted to run away so that she couldn't be a burden, she hated being a burden.

"Hmm?"

But something deep just tugged at her to not move, and any intents to leave were drowned out...

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Said Jacinta, quivering as she cursed the words that came out as a second nature.

Alison paused for a little, thoughtfully, before saying

"This may be a little urgent, but, I want you to stay here, with us."

Jacinta was overwhelmed with a warm fuzzy feeling again. Any minute now and she would loose control. She looked away and clenched her fists tightly. God dammit! She hated this - But at the same time she didn't want it to stop.

"I need to know that you'll be safe. I saw how you reacted to when you inherited your ability. Jacinta, look at me."

Jacinta listened to her, and did what she was asked. 'Why am I listening to her?' She thought cursedly.

"You're a guardian too."

In time with hearing that, all her negative over-thinking just faded away.

"And it's my duty to protect you..."

Jacinta nodded her head as she filtered through the events in her head.

"So, I guess I have to work here now with you." She said

"Yep. It's your duty to." Replied Alison, attempting to sound as cheerful as possible.

"What? Who's idea was this?"

"No-one's, It was just your destiny to, that's all"

Jacinta groaned, cutting Alison off. She hated doing things she didn't want to do. She threw herself back onto her pillow and turned away from her. Though, something caught the corner of her mind as she did.

"Will I get paid for this?" She mumbled.

K21/2 - I'm Through (Original Version)

Some more classic K21 Squared writing. This would have been the opening of I'm Through, until the author decided to scrap it entirely and start from scratch. This is yet another look at what Ghost_K could have been.

The boy awoke. He was cloaked in a mysterious and confusing dream of past memories and it's multitude of hurtful events etched together like a tapestry, however what remained of them melted away into blackness and into the light of a new day. A transition that would be good news for many, turned out to be more mediocrity for him. What lay on the other end of reality wasn't too much of an improvement... it seemed. He opened his eyes sleepily, and let off a yawn.

Monday.

The weekend once again evaporated into droplets of unmemorable events, and once again he had to drag himself up and ready for duty. To take part his so called "destiny" was inevitable, and it forced him work directly against his initial desires. Often the same sequence of thoughts played through his head as he readied himself, as he lost himself in trying to find an answer to the same recurring question: why did he of all people had to be chosen as a guardian. He well knew he had nothing to fight for, as anything precious to him that actually was, had been taken away long ago.

His life was like a great empty ruin, plastered with only pain, abandonment and the feeling of complete worthlessness. Nothing could change this, not from inside, and nothing on the outside would ever will to see what he truly felt.

He was an empty husk of a boy, a shadow of what he should have been.

Haha, yeah, if only people actually cared… then things wouldn't be so… depressing."

But, despite this constant weight on everyday life, he has still dragged himself along the events of life under a false guise as if something in this unhappy chain of events actually meant something to him. The outside remained unchanged and false, but the inside was slowly rotting away. Somebody needed to help him, to light up the cold darkness within him - but such a person couldn't exist. It is impossible. Not in a world full of hate and selfishness, nobody in their right mind would put aside their own pain to help the next person. Self preservation is in human nature, and the care for others is only In the interest of self gain.

It was all too obvious to him.

Eric trudged into the canteen area, collapsing his tired body against the bench, and flicked on the kettle.

Wait a minute. Water.

He flicked open the lid to find the inside of the appliance to be stone dry. Habitually, he pushed it under a tap and filled it up with the bubble of rainwater.

It was going to be the start of a whole host of daily inconveniences which will drive him to the edge of keeping his bitterness at a bearable level. He just felt it, things like this happened to him all the time. Even sitting still in life's path proved to be strenuous.

He sat himself down on the table, slumping sleepily on its glass surface as he waited for the kettle to boil. Random, disconnected thoughts scuttled about his mind, as he thought about maybe going back to sleep again.

Nobody else appeared to be present around block 441 today. Secretly, he started hoping that they had all left on a mission or something so that he didn't have to get pushed around and yelled at again.

He noticed that a comic book lay in the centre of the table amongst the other cluttered junk of advertisement mail and news articles. Summer Rain; A typical romantic comedy manga, however when asked he certainly always replied with something it wasn't.

It's an action.

Oh it's... A mecha.

Simply to avoid ridicule.

He began to think that, maybe he really was worth ridiculing. Lonely to the point where reading romance actually made him increasingly happy after all. Was it really true that fiction is always better than reality?

"Obviously desperate..." He sighed from under his breath.

Despite that, he pushed the thought away for the hundred time, and slowly grabbed his MP3 player out of his chino clothed pants, plugging the individual headphones in his ears. He flicked it onto shuffle, and started sinking slowly into the story ravelled up within it's pages.

"Hey." Came out of nowhere. A young girl's voice.

For a moment, it was as if Eric didn't even acknowledge her presence at all, though it took a moment before he bothered to pull himself out of reading the thick comic book in his hands, and casually took a single headphone out of his ear, looking at her sheepishly.

"Hmm?" He grumbled. Expecting her to simply be asking for something rather than trying to talk to him.

It was Jacinta Hansen - the pretty, red headed girl that he saved a while back. He hadn't realised how short she actually was, and he had practically forgotten that she was still here.

She walked into the room and stood beside the table, crossing her arms casually.

"Looks...fun." She continued, trying to move what little conversation there was between them forward.

"Yeah." mumbled Eric, as he slowly plugged the headphone back in, indifferently flicking a page in his book. Whatever he bothered to listen for, turned out to just be more negativity.

Jacinta slowly trod towards the bench in the corner of the room. The kettle hissed with a muffled whistling noise as it finished boiling, bubbling grumpily within it's aged aluminium casting. Taking advantage of what was there, she grabbed a mug out of one of the shelves and poured herself a helping, emptying the single cup size of water from within the kettle that Eric had initially filled it with.

Eric sighed from under his breath. She was using his cup. His cup. She didn't even bother to ask whether she was allowed to help herself so casually, let alone his special mug.

It was his mother's mug.

"Is there any tea or anything?" She asked relatively politely. There was a pause for a minute.

"Well. I'm sure you'd be able to find some tea essence cubes or something somewhere. You found my mug after all." He replied, negatively.

"It's just a mug. It's not like I'm going to break it or anything." She replied, sterner; like a parent talking down to a child.

"Yes , but it belonged to my..."

"Wow." Interrupted Jacinta, now with a rude tone in her voice that she took no hesitation to hide. "You came off as much more interesting when I first met you."

Eric sighed, as he collapsed back down on the table, resting his chin upon the glass. He seemed a little too used to these current situations. "Whew. I'm so totally sorry to disappoint you." with a cold, lazy sarcasm.

"Haha." she replied, echoing the sarcasm almost aggressively. "So is that like what you do every day?"

"Huh?" Eric was surprised at her sudden decision to step over him verbally. "...When I'm not I'm on duty I guess."

"Is this all you do with your life? Don't you think you're wasting your time!" She cut in angrily.

Eric immediately stopped what he was doing, and shot a glace back at her with a blank, however somewhat imposing face. He wanted to patronise her, make her feel sorry, and that she was abusing her position of power to somebody who was superior to her. But an awkward guilt overcame him at the last minute, and he looked away. A tense silence prevailed.

"Well," A dark, velvety voice broke the quiet air. "It's certainly nice to see our new recruits establishing good terms with one another."

Both of them looked at the source of the voice through the corner of their eyes, though refusing to cool down their attitudes. Eric was the slow to anger, but nevertheless angst-filled boy who didn't step down when trodden over, while Jacinta was simply a short but feisty girl who loved to step over people. It was a recipe for disaster for sure.

The man walked into the room, and into a more clear visibility. He was a giant of a man, with broad, dark copper coloured skin. He was definitely muscular despite most of his features covered up by a bulky white suit and a bionic argumentation posing as his left arm.

The commander of Ghost_K, Mark Dalton, humble as ever despite the multitude of rank and experience that had been bestowed upon his name.

Eric stood up off the table, as guilt caused him to snap.

"Sorry sir!" He pleaded. "I was…"

"...Treating a new recruit with disrespect. That's what he was doing." Jacinta finished his sentence, blackmailing him. "Despicable."

She allowed herself a smirk, however she remained facing away from them both so that they wouldn't notice.

"Ah... I don't intend to blame anyone." Replied mark. He smiled to himself as he mused at the emotional instability that all adolescents harboured.

"It's Jacinta, am I right?" He said, asking her name.

"Yep" She replied. Looking at them both clearly now. The worst of her nastiness seemed to empty itself from her face.

"Well. I'd say it's best that I introduce myself." He continued, attempting at breaking the tension with his classic method of presenting more pressing, serious matters.

He strode over to her and smoothly held out his hand, with a classic professional friendliness that he extended to everyone - even to some of his enemies. They shook hands, and Jacinta's was over twice as small as marks, it was almost amusing.

"I am Mark Dalton, the chief commander of Ghost_K. It's good to see our new recruit as being generally quite eager… It's leaving somebody else in particular room to step up his game" He said, winking at Eric as he finished the sentence.

"Pftt.." Eric scoffed quietly, half to himself.

Despite that, it was nevertheless increasingly noticeable that Jacinta's eagerness to accept the duties placed before her were definitely leaps and bounds ahead of Eric's willingness.

"I'm guessing since you're comfortably walking around, it's time you began to edge towards training." He continued in a stern and slightly cautious way. "Would you be up for some early training exercises? We don't have a large abundance of time. This is especially so if we continue to dawdle about every so often."

Jacinta's face seemed to lighten a little, despite outwardly trying to conceal her feelings, and she nodded.

"I…. I don't feel overly energetic today, but I'm sure I can try my best." She replied with a faint smile.

Mark placed his hand on her shoulder sternly, already proud of her desire to achieve. With a gruff smile on his face, he replied "That's great to hear Miss Hansen, well!..."

"Umm, hello?" interrupted another feminine voice from behind them. An older, more playful sounding tone, breaking the chain of conversation almost rudely.

The occupants of the room casually glanced over to have their eyes rest upon Alison Katsura, leaning in a doorway, assuming her regular patterns of lazy behaviour. He arms lay folded, and hairband-absent loosely flowing hair was frizzled up like the coat of a stray dog that hadn't had a proper sleep in weeks. It appeared to be exactly the same story for her.

"Hmm?" Mark replied, realising to wasn't just Eric who was plagued with laziness this morning.

Alison's attire only heightened the rugged yet nevertheless youthfully attractive look about her. She came dressed in a slightly loose tank top and short shorts; and outlook she tended to wear almost religiously. It was to the point where her personality and the societal connotations of her clothes became synonyms, bywords for each other with the exact same amusing meanings; immature - Irrational - a child at heart.

Amusingly enough, it wasn't just her dress sense that she clung to religiously. In fact the very term had more truth in it as appose to being a simple play on words. The clothes she wore tended to serve as a method of attracting a certain someone else that she was devoted to as well.

"It's so bloody obvious that she's doing it for him," Eric observed, "She may as well start a goddamn religion around him and there'd be no difference..."

Alison continued to speak her mind so freely, saying "Aren't I the personal trainer around here?" as she smiled, primarily directing her attention at Mark.

"You'll just spend like… several hours trying to get her into the bloody uniform Alison." Eric cut in, seeing his chance to relay more satire in her direction in the hope she'd one day realise the time to grow up was basically years ago.

"What, uniforms are too mainstream are they Eric?" Alison laughed. She seemed to have satire ever ready for return fire herself. Any actual effect from this constant stream of tongue-in-cheek attacks against her proved to sail right above her head.

"No, but maturity is sure in season." Eric sarcastically shot back.

"Aha, well they say maturity is for those trying too hard to grow up." She laughed back. Definitely more at him rather than along with. Eric began to feel annoyance build up.

"Alison." Mark sighed politely. "I'm sure I'll be able to aid our new recruit here quite easily. A professional eye aiding the earliest of her develops would be very beneficial."

"Mm, I guess…" She replied, ending in a lowered tone.

"I'm happy to lend her the only remaining hand I have." he replied with a laugh, as he held up his bionic left arm in jest.

"Haha, very funny." She replied, shaking her head as she almost regretfully laughed at such a silly pun. She then continued, looking back up at them "Though I'd like to get to know her sooner or later. I'm sure lover boy over here feels the same way about her too."

"What?!" Eric and Jacinta both cut in defensively at the same time. Jacinta blushed for a fraction of a second, before forcing it down bitterly and staring at the ground grumpily - and Eric noticed it. His strong urge to distance himself away from her softened a little.

Alison giggled hysterically.

K21/3 - Artificial Children - B Part // Endorphin

This piece of literature has been revised so many times that there is little in the way of true lost chapters. However, as this reached a complete form before being removed, it seemed the best candidate to illustrate what the author's intentions for Artificial Children originally were.

There was a piercing buzz. With the flash of a timer, targets flung out everywhere from their foxhole-like slits in a bewilderment of movement. A rifle was fired, its projectile piercing the air like a supersonic arrow as it missed the target by an inch. The black human-shaped cutouts retreated, changing positions immediately, almost as if they were dancing about, laughing.

"Huh? Dammit! Wait… How do I reload?" Came the voice of a girl. It was that of Jacinta Hansen's, and suddenly the girl was overwhelmed with panic.

"What?" Replied her startled accompanier. He wasn’t expecting to hear something so ridiculous.

"Eric help me! How do I reload?!"

"Are you serious?? Bloody hell Jacinta, give me the gun!"

Careening over to her, Eric Lysander ripped the rifle from her grip, reloading the firing chamber of the semi-automatic weapon with a swift and trained pull. He successively aimed at the targets, knocking each one out with a moment's hesitation, as the tinny clack of metal followed with each consecutive reload.

He exhausted the magazine, hitting a record time that was far below any best he'd achieved.

There was a gap of silence between breaths, long enough to be noticeable. Eric slid the rifle out from his grip, lying it stock-down against the shooting stall enclosure. He sat down, annoyed.

"Jesus Christ. Look, if you hesitate once, you're dead. Second chances are non-existent!" He spat, almost as if he was genuinely angry.

“Ok. Sorry…" Came a murmured reply. Eric cut in again.

"I can't believe you can't even use a simple gun. It's stupid. It's a semi-automatic rifle, with an obvious iron sight attachment. It's probably the easiest thing to use…"

"Alright, I get it!" She implored.

"Hm?" He replied, finally listening to her.

Glancing at her for a second, he proceeded to detach eye contact regretfully. She looked almost upset.

"Sorry. I… I just…"

"You shouldn't be so harsh." She interposed, making an attempt to watch her tone.

"Whatever."

"Whatever? Talk about obnoxious. Now give me the gun. I want to actually hit something this time. Seeing since I'm so drop-dead horrible at this, I'd say it's pretty bloody logical to practice some more, huh…" She stabbed into him.

Eric sighed. Handing her a fresh magazine, he rubbed his eyes in distress, clearing his head. He didn’t bother looking at her again.

"Knock yourself out." He muttered half-heartedly.

Leaning over dejectedly, he stared blankly at the damp concrete floor below him. He didn’t know what else to do outside of saying sorry again. But repeating something so light-hearted to begin with gave off the vibe of carelessness. He wasn’t in that place, at least, not for now.

It had only been fifteen days. Over two weeks and into the morning of a new day, and already they were bickering once again. It was as if the subtle implications brought about by the brief sharing of family photos and unconventional upbringings only served to put him in the place of the “acquaintance zone”.

What was it with girls and how they always distanced him like this? He never admitted it, though through at least one perspective, it seemed that he was a slave to dominance.

Putting his mind back on track, he thumbed down the controller’s button in his hand, resetting the timer. A split second passed, and the buzzer sounded once again. Eric glanced up, silently remaining hopeful to see her gradual improvement. But something went wrong...

She was in his vision just in time for him to see her collapse onto the ground.

In a flash, adrenalin shot through his body. For some reason, all grudge vanished. Be bolted up out of his seat, running forward.

"Jacinta!!?"

Laurence was the last to enter the room. For some reason it seemed that even a deputy commander wasn't permitted his hours of sleep, and this infuriated him. This very particular day proved to be notably excruciating, a kind of work so demanding that he wasn't to return to the block until well after 5AM, and the sole thing he had on his mind then was to crash out as hard and as quickly as his weakened frame allowed him. Even with the fact of Upper Africa's hell-hole of a social climate that required constant tending to in mind, the inhumane demand of such an operation seemingly failed to sink through Mathieu's thickened cranium. Even if the concept of divine enlightenment was handy to the average Joe, Laurence always felt that the man would still have extreme trouble realising just how much the job actually killed you; In all kinds of ways. It was nothing less than the piss that he had to get through, and his sanity was clearly taking its toll.

He scanned around the command room, being met with equally oddly curious faces all around. Eric and Jacinta were in one corner, calmly sitting at attention. Alison was doing basically the same, though she looked a little happier to see the room's new-bewildered guest returning safely. She didn't get the chance to bid him goodnight. Even Nao was there, off in is own world as usual.

Lastly, Miki looked up from her laptop, glancing at him as if to ask the question, "know what's going on?" Despite being deep within a blanket of insomnia, she amusingly appeared to be the most alert there.

Laurence sighed. "Look guys, I know just as much as you do, 'llright?" He defended himself implicitly, shrugging.

"My best guess is that Mathieu is still bitter about our behaviour up at Tunisia those few months ago, judging by the fact he has hardly been himself lately. " Miki implied casually.

"What? That still?" He replied, bewildered.

"Mhm. Amusingly, he has failed to make even a glimpse of conversation with either of his information officers. It seems emailed status reports are all he needs for now." She finished.

"Well, you know, it has been absolute full-on work keeping the masses safe since that incident. Crime has skyrocketed now that everyone thinks there's nobody looking down at them behind their backs." Alison implied, yawning.

"Mm. It's been very dull indeed." Miki agreed calmly, taking note of her associate's exhaustion.

"Sure is." Seconded Laurence. "I think we can all agree that we're being pushed to our bloody limits…"

"However I still don't understand this. Mathieu isn't the type to just shut himself in his quarters for entire weeks on end…" Miki added, sounding faintly annoyed at the present lack of information.

Laurence then took a seat, supporting his head tiredly in his left arm as it propped up against the table's surface.

"I'm tired." Alison broadcasted to Laurence rather bluntly.

"Cool story, hun." Laurence grumbled sarcastically from under his breath, keeping eyes closed in some awkward semblance of micro-sleep. There was a sudden unkempt snarl on his face. "If you're not in the mood for work, you can at least pretend to listen."

"That's not very nice..." She whined softly.

Miki sighed, however attempted to restrain it. She flicked through the applications on her laptop boredly.

"Uhm, well, speaking of lack of information, has there at least been anything on that Aurélie girl?" Came in Eric from across the table as he decided to include himself in on the conversation. "Has she been released from her final psycho-therapy treatment?"

He leant on the table with a look of interest on his face.

"Dunno. Like Miki mentioned, Mathieu tells us nothing nowadays. It seems like I'm all of a sudden we've become some outsiders who shouldn't be trusted with anything."

"Well, welcome to my world… hah." Spoke Jacinta after a moment's hesitation. She gave a short sarcastic laugh.

Eric felt like saying something to support her statement, agreeing all too much with what she had said, but he was far too exhausted to think up anything past cheesy. Awkwardness bothered him, all whilst invoking further awkwardness all along. Unfortunately, Alison wasn't as nearly as disciplined in such a manner.

"Ahaha." She laughed, "Don't worry, I was there once too."

"Hmm. Yeah." Jacinta agreed quietly.

"And plus, you have a special somebody to guide you along, am I right Eric? You dirty boy."

"What the…" Nao silently mouthed off to himself, glaring at her slightly.

"Too far Alison." Hissed Eric. "Once again."

"Don't lie to me." Alison laughed again. Without warning, something tapped her on the shoulder.

"Alison. Get your act together."

It was Miki, coldly; for some reason she saw fit to intrude her personal bubble.

"Huh?" the fire elemental replied, louder than she intended it to come out.

"I'd say you're half the reason we’ve been called here too. Stop being such a child already." continued Miki, shoving her slightly as she began to retrace her steps onwards to her seat.

"What was that?" Alison continued.

"Alison. Quiet," Interrupted Nao. He glanced at Miki, and then shortly back at her.

There was a long silence.

Everyone in the room refused to look at her. Alison gathered her thoughts together. Out of thin air everyone was cornering her, and she had no clue as to what she did wrong. This persisted, until suddenly,

Oh no, it's the binging again… isn't it…

The back doors swept open, and at last Mathieu had entered the room. Rage crept within his eyes, almost incapable of containment behind his cool guise. It was a startling sight. His dark voice broke the silence recklessly,

"My, she sure shows how much of a stagnated bubble we've become. It's almost like we're rabbits, stuck in a hole. I'm actually quite amused now at how further appropriate the saying "breed like rabbits" is for out little hovel here"

"What..?!" came a unanimous reaction, with an especial emphasis from Laurence. On a personal level, everyone was no less than disgusted. Miki got up and interrupted immediately with a frightened panic. She seemed to know something a little more than everyone else in the room.

"Mathieu. Please understand that you're not the only one having it rough here! We're all emotional wrecks since the death of Annemarie and Damien, and Kenneth and… mhm."

She looked away. As the adrenalin faded away, some rethinking the situation merely rewarded her a shadow of regret to creep over her.

"This changes nothing!!" Mathieu cut in, as Miki shuddered ever so slightly.

"Pretty paranoid of you to listen in on us without our knowledge, Mathieu." Added Laurence defensively.

"Since when has this got to do anything with personal feelings?" he replied. He commandeered a gaze over the entire room, arms crossed, "You're all a sad lot. Look at you!"

"Well… of course we are Mathieu, that's pretty much a given." Laurence continued.

K21 - Tarnished Perceptions - Chapter 5 - Epilogue - Part 3

Initially written as the final part of the story, it was later cut because it seemed to drag out the story unnecessarily. Particularly when the story was supposed to be centred around the actual villains of Ghost_K.

Kenneth sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally safe. He had escaped the Palace. Escaped Sector IV. And most importantly: He had lived. Mathieu patted him on the back as he sat down onto the sofa. It was a surreal thing to be doing. Only two of them. The place seemed so quiet.

"That was some stellar flying you managed back there. I am grateful that you were able to save us," the plant elemental remarked, with a false warmth.

Mathieu had just finished possessively making a list of each and every member who had been killed during the failed ambush. The entire thing had been a disaster. On final count: 45 dead. 3 missing in action.

"Don't mention it... " Kenneth replied, morose.

They were the only two survivors. Everyone else was gone.

"I've never noticed how large this place is," Mathieu mused, with a twisted humour in his voice.

"Or quiet?" Lysander tried to joke.

"Well... Guardian Tower has never been this empty before... I mean... we have forty-four people less than normal... forty-four... " Dalton solemnly spoke.

"I know, we'll stick the news on. Our little conflict must have caught the media's attention by now. I mean, the whole bloody Holy Commonwealth Palace fell a part as we left, they won't be able to cover it up!" he chuckled vacuously, "especially as our arrival was broadcast live across the Euro Zone... "

Kenneth's attentions drifted away from the switched on television, as he started to ponder about the whole ordeal. For the first time in his life Lysander found himself doubting Damien Anderson. All these years he'd followed him, knowing his friend was right in his convictions. Right in his cause. The event had been broadcast live to show the peaceful intent between two parties who had been embroiled in vicious conflicts. It was supposed to highlight that matters could be soved diplomatically.

But Anderson had opened fire on their hosts. He had shot first. He had instigated the massacare. Ghost_K had lost fourty-four people. Just how many innocent lives had the Vallarie Administration lost, Kenneth pondered. He had been responsible for several of those deaths. He had also borne witness to three cold blooded murders. Unarmed Royals. The very people who had allowed the Ghost_K delegation into their home.

It was sickening.

Upon reflection, Lysander realised a critical part of the whole ordeal. The Queen had only attacked him in order to defend a man who was under her sovereign protection. The Royal Guards were defending themselves as well, only for the Guardians to slay them in their droves. It hadn't been a righteous battle with an enemy of the state as Damien had proclaimed. It was a massacare of the misguided, driven by Anderson's personal vendetta against a single man.

Forty-four dead. To ensure the death of one man.

He vividly remembered seeing Claude hurled into the air by the horrendous winds. The man was likely dead, but it was hardly compensation. They had thrown away forty-four lives. And that was if they were lucky. With a remaining three merely unaccounted for, they were likely dead as well.

The sight of the murdered Ghost_K personnel would forever haunt him. They had checked all five transports in a bid to find one that was still airworthy. They had found their auxiliary personnel, fallen on the ground. Some had their throats cut, others had been frozen death, a few were little more than charred bone and a couple had just been shot dead.

The Sector VII News was largely obsessed with their own affairs, detailing the unrest within the Upper African Zone as government forces were embroiled in a couple of conflicts within insurgents and reporting progress of efforts to quell the antagonistic supporters of the World Justice Uprising. But Kenneth knew they couldn't pass up the opportunity of showing the misfortune of a rival political sector. It was then he heard the words he had been waiting for.

"... and we are now joined by our foreign correspondant in the Euro Zone," a young female presenter introduced the next panel.

"Yes indeed, Sasha," the European journalist replied to his colleague, "and I am standing in front of what remains of the Holy Commonwealth Palace."

He was carefully positioned on the screen so that the audience could see the wreckage and rubble of the building.

"We have received an official statement from the Queen of Sector IV that at approximately 2200 hours an invited delegation, comprising of key members of the organisation known as Ghost_K, opened fire on a reprimanded criminal who was under the sovereign protection of the Euro Zone. This criminal has been identified as Juan Iral, a high end assassin noted to have been employed by several Sector Governments. It has been confirmed that his corpse was retrieved earlier this afternoon."

It was then that the correspondant pointed at the broken form of the palace. The sunlight glinted off a piece of shattered glass.

"As we can see, the entire structure was levelled during the conflict. We are guessing as a result of unregulated use of elemental powers by the Ghost_K team. Miraculously both the Queen and her daughter survived the ordeal. Just a second, I have just been given a disc by a member of the Royal Guard. He has informed me that it contains footage from the event. Ladies and gentlemen, please hold while we prepare to show the live footage."

There was a brief pause, Kenneth and Mathieu were suddenly on the edge of their seat. Interested at what it would show.

They blanched when it appeared on screen.

"As you can see from this momentous footage, wanted terrorist and leader of the International Worker's Union, Agent One saved the life of Princess Natalia Kwolac. That is correct, we are not quite believing it ourselves. But this video clearly shows Agent One, bathed in light, rescuing the princess from the clutches of three Guardians of the Ghost_K team. It has been confirmed that this incredible man shot dead wanted criminal Annemarie Lucia Engel in order to save the young girl," the journalist quickly spoke with enthusiasm in his voice.

There was a look of shock on the reporters face.

"Agent One... is... is... a hero. I never thought I'd ever be saying those words in the same sentence! Now, that is all we have time for as this segment has already overrun, back to the studio." he finished.

"Why yes, this truly is astounding stuff, but it also raises questions as to why the man was present within the Euro Zone and what business he had in Sector IV... " the female reporter queried, just as Mathieu turned off the TV.

Agent One. Vamana Uldericks. The man who had killed his wife. He roared out in disbelief. Smashing his hand against the table.

"He is the HERO!?"

Kenneth scarcely muttered, voicing his own troubled thoughts.

"And we are the villains... "

K21 - Shattered Endeavours - Lies (Original Version)

The original version of Lies was drastically different from the version that made the final cut. It was generally disliked by the author and failed to draw any comments from the target market. It was originally intended to establish Natalia Kwolac's wedding as a canonical event while dealing with the internal turmoil of Miki and Laurence as well as their crisis of identity in the aftermath of the Palace Ambush. However, it was decided that a focus on Natalia would be more appropriate.

The black haired man stared down at the black piece of paper that was sitting on his desk in utter disbelief.

Upon it were words gilded with silver:

Cpl. Laurence Alistair Valentine
Guardian of Water
As a guest of the bride
You are hereby cordially invited to the wedding of
Her Royal Highness, Princess Natalia Lasi-Vallarie Kwolac
And
Director of Order, Thomas Ulvan McKenzie
On Sunday afternoon
January the 21st
at Midday
Holy Commonwealth Palace
Followed by a reception


R.S.V.P not required


"What kind of a sick joke is this!" he roared indignantly, "guest of THE BRIDE!?"

"So you have one as well it seems," spoke a very clear and analytic voice, "how curious."

"Holy shit! You scared the life out of me there Miki!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry," the young woman sharply apologised, "but I was sent here to relay orders. Although in light of what I have just learned, that can take a secondary priority."

"Wait, what?" Laurence questioned, rather confused.

"Well none of the others have received an invitation. Thus your assumption of it being a "sick joke" does not seem likely. Primary targets for that would be Damien Anderson and Mark Dalton as they have both suffered bereavement due to the actions of Claude Lasi-Faité." Miki coldly stated, "he could have easily baited them with such a ploy."

"Uh... ummm... that's worryingly thought out, Mikayla... " he tried to joke but was struck by a surreal memory.

"Well I have thoroughly considered a wide range of possible reasons for delivery of the invitations." she bluntly retorted, "I am related to the Crown Princess after all. Yet, at the same time, I am unsure as to why I would be referred to as 'Second Heir to the Vallarian Throne' seeing as my family were apparently disinherited."

Laurence started clutching his head in agony as his mind clouded his sense and he was overcome with bizarre imagery. The Palace in ruins. A face. A familiar face. With it a distant voice began to whisper. Lies.

The voice grew louder. Lies! He found that his eyes had closed tightly shut as the voice came closer. Lies! It was shouting at him. All lies! Screaming. NOTHING BUT LIES!

Miki, oblivious to the situation continued on, "but what is more odd is the fact you received an invitation. That factor alone makes things rather illogical."

The young woman stopped speaking in order to ponder the recent information she had gathered.

"We couldn't be related, could we?" Albraun mused, "after all, the identity of your father remains a mystery."

She looked to where Laurence had been standing and realised he wasn't there. Her gaze slowly reached the floor where she spotted Valentine has retracted into the fetal position while clutching his head.

"Oh, are you okay?" she asked unsypmathetically.

"Yes... Miki... Clearly... I... Am... Fine... " he forced through gritted teeth.

The Guardian of Air remained where she stood, oblivious to the sentiment carried in his words.

"NOW MAKE IT STOP!" Laurence suddenly yelled, waving his left arm frantically towards Miki. The pronouncement was followed by several shards of ice errupting from his hand. The young woman's cybernetic reflexes allowed her to dodge all but one. This sliver of frozen water had grazed the side of her throat.

Red liquid started to seep from the wound. She dabbed her hand against the blood and smiled peculiarly.

"Of all the places those shards could strike. It was one of the few places I am still human/"

"GET OUT!" Valentine yelled, as the carpet began to freeze.

"Don't you wish to discuss our predicament further? I am most curious as to why you would be invited as well," Miki spoke, failing to comprehend the atmosphere of the conversation.

Laurence suddenly leaped up from the floor in unnatural manner, "LEAVE NOW!"

Miki remained standing. Puzzled by the situation. Laurence brought his right foot forward in an attempt to walk towards her. However, but before he finished this motion , his whole body went limp and he collapsed to the ground.

"Miki... please... Miki... are you still there... " he barely pronounced.

The cybernetic woman crouched down to be closer to him.

"Yes, of course I am. I never left," she replied, bemused by the nature of such an illogical question.

"I need to tell you... that... " Laurence scarcely breathed before his eyes shut.

Miki lowered her hand to his mouth. She sighed with relief as she felt his breath gently flow over her synthetic skin.

"Laurence, are you okay?" Miki questioned.

There was no reply.

At that point a turquoise haired young woman burst into the room.

"Oh my God! Laurence, are you okay? I heard shouting!" she asked, panicked and panting.

"He does not seem conscious, Katsura," Miki plainly stated.

"Well what the hell happened? I-I mean... Why on earth are you bleeding and why is the carpet covered with a layer of ice?" the young woman shouted, confused at the situation she had stumble across.

"Well, Valentine seemed to act rather oddly. His voice changed briefly but I recall he said he was fine. So I ignored the matter," Albraun simply relayed her view of events.

"Fine!? FINE!? DOES HE LOOK FINE TO YOU!?" Alison roared.

"Well, he's still breathing." Miki glibly retorted.

Alison elected to crouch down beside where Laurence was unconsciously slouched. The Guardian of Fire struggled to keep herself kneeling on the icy surface that surrounded Valentine as she moved her lips close to his.

"Laurence," she whispered, "Can you hear me?"

K21 - Decayed Moralities - Intentions

Story was deemed too short by the author to bother including in the story. Is basically just gratuitous filler that wasn't going to lead anywhere productive. Since writing full on sexual scenes did not seem appropriate.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked so plainly and direct. Honestly, I was starting to think this woman was crazy. It was one stupid kiss months ago. Since then I'd been getting back into the game. Training had been surprisingly easy and my first assignment since my absence had gone down without a hitch.

"Well... wait what?" I stuttered, uncertain of what to say.

Seriously, I was starting to think she was utterly mental. She'd shown minimal interest since our intense introduction, but I'm gone for a couple of days in Sector I and suddenly she comes at me with this.

"I'm deadly serious," the attractive young woman, with turquoise hair, replied.

"And they say romance is dead... " I dryly laughed, still taken back by the whole proposition.

"Well, I really like you as a person, Laurence," she spoke plainly, "and I thought that after coming back from the Middle East... you might find it fun?"

At that moment she smiled sweetly, and I just couldn't comprehend how to react.

"Right... Alison... Well... okay... I... " I mused.

"Plus, I think you're hot." the Guardian of Fire interjected.

I finally managed to get my thoughts together and feigned a response.

"I can't help but feel this would be highly unprofessional... "I spoke calmly, trying to dodge the subject at hand.

"I doubt it... Mathieu had a wife who was also a Guardian... " Alison teased, before stroking my arm.

"Yes," I replied bluntly, as coldly as I could realistically manage, "and we all know how that ended up."

"Relax, we're young, it's not like that's going to happen anytime soon... " she winked at me, "that was love. This is just pure, unrestrained lust."

"Well... I... Ummm... " I just didn't know how to respond. The way she was suddenly so direct was alarming to say the least.

"Look. I've been trying to get your attention since we first met. I thought I'd try a more direct approach," Alison spoke seductively as she forced me into an embrace, "so, would you fuck me right now?"

"This... is... it's... as in... I mean... all hypothetical... of course?" I meekly replied.

"Let's just go with that, sweetie," she pulled my hand so that it was placed on her firm breasts.

"Yes... " was all I could manage before I found her lips meeting mine in an awkward kiss.

K21 - Twisted Deliverance - Chapter 2 (Original Version)

The first version of this story was reliant on the aircraft crashing. However, due to the author experiencing difficulties with writing a follow up to the downed airplane, this idea was ultimately scrapped.

Nao opened the curtain just in time to see Damien being pinned to the wall by a large attendant, at least six and a half feet tall. The woman that had offered tea was standing to the side, smiling as Damien struggled. Her gaze turned towards Nao and her smile grew even wider. "Ah, so the boy joins us as well, do come in, please close the curtain behind you," she chuckled.

"This could get messy."

Nao simply stepped forwards and closed the curtain behind him, not taking his eyes off the female attendant for a moment, waiting for her to pull out a weapon of some kind. She made no such move, as she didn't have to, Nao's attacker was from behind. He found himself pinned to the soft carpet as he struggled to stand. A large bulk of a man stood above him, grabbing hold of Nao's hair, twisting it as he kept him pinned to the floor. He heard the woman speaking.

"We know all about you, elemental," she said softly.

"And don't think we'll let you live."

Li-Pau grunted as he continued to struggle.

"How cute, you believe you can escape? No, our friends here have one job, and that's to keep people like you pinned."

"Well they do an excellent job." Nao smirked.

"Indeed." the woman smiled.

A booming voice was heard over the PA system.

"Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking, we appear to be flying into a storm. Nothing to serious, but we can expect turbulence, thank you."

That gave Nao an idea, he turned so that he could see Damien. The man nodded and smiled, and Nao knew that they both had the same idea. Li-Pau closed his eyes and thought of nothing more than the thunder, the lightning. He could hear the confusion in the flight attendant's voice.

"What are you doing?"

Nao heard Damien's voice.

"What do you think he's doing?"

"What? No, NO! Listen well brat! You do anything to this plane and I'll..."

The assassin's voice was cut off as Li-pau heard lightning strike the plane. The lights turned off and he heard the screams of the passengers as the plane began to fall out of the sky. He flet the weight on his back lifted, no doubt the attendant that had him pinned was somewhere else, anywhere else. He a snap of his fingers, Nao turned the lights on, and gazed at his surroundings.

The female attendant that had been speaking earlier had a handful of kitchen knives in her throat and chest, bleeding on the carpet. The massive attendant that had Nao pinned a moment ago was bleeding from his ears, a large bruise covered most of his forehead. The other attendant that had Damien pinned was dead, his chin bleeding like a water fountain, and Nao found Damien grasping hold of a door handle, keeping himself from flying across the room.

"Grab hold something!" Damien shouted.

Li-Pau found himself grabbing hold of door frame that had been housing the curtains a moment ago. As the plane continued to fall. He heard Damien say something, but couldn't make out what it was as the plane hit the ground and everything went black...

K21 - Twisted Deliverance - Chapter 3 (Original Version)

Things were changed greatly between the this version of Chapter 3 and the one that would later be published. Originally Mitch Ochoa was going to be a gravity elemental and had an even more antagonistic relationship with Damien.

As Nao and Damien left the plane, they heard their fellow passengers gasp at the unconscious flight attendants, and helped them to their feet. Damien and Nao ran out the exit, refusing to look back at the plane. Nao stumbled through the crowd, struggling to keep up with Damien.

“This way.” Damien waved.

“Where are we going?” Li-Pau asked.

“Our team has a ride parked for us in the parking lot.”

“Our team?” Li-Pau asked.

“Yes, like I said before, I’ll explain on the way.”

“Alright, let’s just hurry.” Li-Pau replied.

“What? You scared those attendants are going to follow us?” Damien snickered.

“No, I’m worried they have other assassins around.”

Damien’s smile faded. “Without a doubt.”

“What?” Li-Pau choked.

“Don’t worry; we have a few contacts tailing us.”

By instinct, Nao turned to see if anyone was following them, but he couldn’t tell with the large amount of people walking in different directions. Nao frowned, he wasn’t scared, as fear wasn’t something he felt anymore. Though he was cautious, caution was natural.

“Shit.” Damien mumbled.

Li-Pau turned towards the area Damien was looking at. There, leaning on a post, was a bulky man, Nao guessed he was in his thirties. He wore a tattered shirt and pants, a red baseball cap worn backwards. He had about five wristbands around his right wrist, and two on his left. He wore muddy boots, as if he had just come out of a long trek in the swamp.

“Who’s that guy?” Nao asked.

“You ever heard the term the enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Damien sighed.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, this guy is the enemy of my enemy, but he’s not our friend.”

“Then who is he?” Li-Pau raised an eyebrow.

“A real jackass, Mitch Ochoa.”

“So what’s he doing here?”

“Hell if I know, just keep your distance and continue…”

Damien was cut off by a loud voice in front of them.

“Anderson!” Ochoa called, a smile on his face.

“Fuck me.” Damien sighed.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” Mitch’s smile grew wider and wider.

“Who sent you?” Damien growled.

“Does it matter? I haven’t seen you in such a long time, and the first thing you ask is…”

Mitch was suddenly grabbed by the shirt collar and raised off his feet; by Damien.

“Listen well, I don’t know who the hell sent you, but you can tell him he failed! Now get lost!”

Any other man would’ve obliged and would have ran away. Not Ochoa, he simply smiled.

“So much for diplomacy.” Mitch’s smile twisted, it turned into the most sickening smile Nao had ever seen.

Suddenly, Li-Pau felt as if he was floating. He and a crowd of citizens screamed as they realized they were floating. Li-Pau saw Damien floating off his feet, yet he still gripped Mitch, refusing to let go. To Nao’s surprise, the sudden gravity shift didn’t seem to affect Ochoa, as if he was able to resist it. Nao growled as he realized Mitch was able to resist the gravity flux, as he was controlling gravity.

“A Gravity Elemental.” Li-Pau said flatly.

“You catch on quick kid,” Mitch laughed.

“My employers want you alive, but I’m sure they won’t mind if I kill you myself.”

“You son of a bitch!” Damien shouted.

“Please, I’d prefer if you would show some respect to your killer,” Mitch was still smiling.

“Now, let us begin.”

K21 - Bleached Delusions - Chapter 13 - Li-Pau Nao

A proposed extra chapter in the story that would have originally served as its finale. It was never fully completed.

“Of all the irresponsible things!” Mark shouted at me, waving his arms slightly in the process.

“I’m sorry sir,” I replied, feeling the guilt of my actions catching up to me.

“I’ve given you my reason for going AWOL.”

He looked at me, and behind the obvious exhaustion was a hint of fury. “That is still no reason to leave!” He gave a slight sigh.

“I know.” I said. “It’s just that…I thought…” I stammered, unsure of what else to say, what else I could say.

Dalton walked over to me before putting his hands – well, hand and bionic replacement – on my shoulders.

“I know,” he replied. “His death, our commander’s death. It has no doubt impacted the team greatly. Revenge is natural, and you have no doubt been one of the members most effected by his passing.”

I nodded.

“I just can’t believe he’s gone…” I trailed.

“His death no doubt came as a shock to all of us.” Mark told me.

“Then what do we do now?” I asked.

He let go of my shoulders before walking away.

“Right now, we must find a new Guardian of Earth, this should be our main priority. However, I believe you have need for rest. Go to your quarters and get some sleep.”

“But I-” I began.

“No protests, get some sleep.” He turned to me, before giving a wry smile. “We’ll still be here when you wake up.”

K21 - Substantial Illusions - Epilogue (Version 1)

An alternate ending to Substantial Illusions would have been the equivalent of mental judo in a plan to incorporate the events before Chapter 1 and after the Prologue. Ultimately it was scrapped because it doesn't read very well and could have been better executed. There is always a chance that a revised version of this may replace the current Epilogue that is in place.

Sleepless nights.

These had plagued the young white haired man for weeks now. He was restless. Incomplete. Too many ideas to make pen and paper. Even those that did were numerous.

It had all started after he had left his previous line of employment. The organisation was not satisfying enough for the man's tastes. He was never a sheep. He couldn't keep living as a sheep. He sure as hell wasn't going to let himself be slaughtered like one. Yet, he knew he wasn't a wolf either. Nor a lion, even if he had wished to be one. Finding the right style was key to his future plans.

Deception had always been paramount. Even now he'd used so many identities his own self perception had become distorted. Occasionally he'd mutter to himself a name. It varied from time to time but one remained constant.

Vamana Uldericks.

It was the last piece of his old identity that he still held on to. No matter what else he lost that name remained with him. One of the few constants in his life was his name.

Yet, there was one other name he still held on to. One that he could never shake from his mind.

Claude Lasi-Faite.

It had turned from a mere passing gesture to a twisted fascination. A criminal who had given a little boy more money than he had ever held before. As a polite young lad, Vamana had wished to thank his mysterious benefactor. For days this kid searched for the rebellious creature. But no trace was to be found and he gave up soon after.

Vamana Uldericks.

However, the man's face would never leave Ulderick's memory. Hauntingly immaculate. A demonic shadow who also possessed the light.

Such an obsession would have died had it not been for the man's surprising resurgence as an international terrorist. Vamana had noted that while this gentleman would use aliases he had embraced the identity he had been betrothed by the authorities.

Claude Lasi-Faite.

Such a name had never been donned before. It had not appeared in any official records. It was the name of a criminal who had suddenly found himself in the light. There is an old belief that there is power in a name. This crazy man seemed to embrace that philosophy wholeheartedly. While aliases would be donned and roles played to, he came to feed on the name that had been given to a monster. That was when the albino had learned the value of his own.

Vamana Uldericks.

Yet, he was not a cocky fool like our good friend Claude.

"No", I mused as I looked upon my journal entry, "No, I was far more clever."

For Vamana had sense.

K21 - Clouded Rectitude - Original Ending

The original, lighthearted ending to Clouded Rectitude.

A sky had changed from its usual bright blue to a dark orange, as the sun set upon the world yet again. After finally retrieving the remaining belongings and any information needed, the team had finally escaped the prison and made way out of the city. Laurence and Roxanne stood upon a small hill, discussing a topic of great importance, while Nao hunched against a large oak tree, holding up a pack of ice towards his head. Letting out a sigh, the Chinese Agent stood up and walked towards the duo. Laurence and Roxanne looked at him for a moment, Roxanne giving a nervous smile, Laurence a stern, yet somehow caring, look. “You final calm down or what?” Roxanne asked. “Or do I need to knock you out again?” Laurence chuckled. “No need Laurence, I’ve screwed my head on straight.” Li-Pau mumbled in reply. “Good, because I don’t want to have you kicking anymore recruits in the stomach, understand?” Valentine snapped.

“New recruit?” Li-Pau questioned, suddenly interested.

Roxanne’s smile widened. “Yup, I’m part of your little club now, y’bastard. So you’re gonna have to put up with me whether you like it or not.”

The Chinese Agent straightened, before looking at the Guardian of Water. “While I’m not saying I’m unhappy that she’s part of the team, you don’t have the authority in rank to actually recruit new members.”

“Sorted out,” Laurence replied. “I contacted HQ when you were unconscious. The commander thinks it’s a good idea to have more members, because of the amount of losses Ghost_K endured during the Palace Ambush over a year ago. Not to mention our dear comrade knows quite a bit about our organization, letting her go to do what she wants seems kinda stupid, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m standing right here you know!” Roxanne snapped. “Whichever path I chose, it’s not like I’d tell anyone what I saw.”

“You’d be surprised what people would do for what you’ve seen,” Laurence replied coldly. “And don’t think you can join up and call yourself a member. You’ll go through enough training to last you a life time, and until our higher-ups decide you’re properly trained, don’t expect to go out into the field much.”

“Anything else?” Roxanne questioned. “I’m no stranger to shit hitting the fan, or training exercises. I was put through those myself when I was younger, not to mention prison revolves around manual labour, especially when that prison is run by RWA freaks.”

“Even so, don’t think it’ll be any easier than what you’ve already gone through. But whatever, our flight back to Sector VII, and I’d prefer if we could get out of this damned area as soon as possible.”

“Then let’s go, we need to deliver what information we’ve gathered back to the Block.” Li-Pau stated, before walking down the hill.


Epilogue


The commander sat back in his chair, bringing his hands up to his mouth in thought. After a few moments, Damien gave a slight nod towards the two agents sitting in front of him. “Well done, both of you. The information you’ve gathered is very valuable at this time. You are both dismissed.”

Saluting, the two Ghost_K agents turned to exit the meeting room. As they both reached the door frame, the commander called to them. “Oh yes, Nao. May I have a word? It won’t take long.”

The Chinese Agent turned towards his mentor, before giving a slight nod a turning back towards the meeting room. Taking a seat in front of the commander. “Yes sir?” Li-Pau asked.

“Laurence came in early, before I called the two of you to give your report, along with Roxanne. They both gave me a description of what happened with Colonel Majis and the interrogation you put him through.”

The Chinese youth’s face paled. “They did?”

“They did,” Anderson confirmed. “And Roxanne was able to tell me in great detail about the conversation that went along between you and the Colonel.”

Nao brought his hands together, before beginning to twiddle with his thumbs. “Your synopsis, sir?”

"My synopsis, my dear protégé," Damien spoke in a harsher tone. “Is that you lied to me.”

“Sir?” Nao asked, unsure of what else to say.

“You told me, and the rest of the team, that you wanted to give it your all, that the reason that you wanted to be part of this mission was because you had experience with the RWA in the past.”

“All true.” Li-Pau stated.

Half-truths, apprentice!” Damien hissed. “While what you said was true, you were out for vengeance, you were out for blood!”

“And you haven’t done something similar?” Li-Pau retorted back sharply.

The commander’s eyes narrowed, Anderson’s view changing to rage instantly. “Care to explain, apprentice?”

“If the situation demanded otherwise, yet you were given the chance, would you go after Claude or complete the mission?” Li-Pau questioned.

The commander’s hands bundled up into fists, a snarl forming onto his features. “You have no idea what he did to me, you have no idea what pain he caused.” Damien nearly screamed.

“Yet you somehow know what Majis did to me? You criticise me for seeking vengeance yet you’ve done so in the past!” At that the lightning elemental stood out of his chair. "I lost my family, my friends, my whole life, because that man took it all away from me for his own personal gain" Yet... yet... you tell me that I don't understand what pain Claude has caused you!?” With his statement finished, Nao sat back down into his seat. “I don’t know exactly what that evil bastard did to make you hate him, but everyone knows that you’d do anything to see him dead. Trust me when I say this, sir, I understand that feeling better than anyone else here.”

The rage died in the commander’s eyes, his fists loosening, before he finally sat back in his chair as his voice turned from anger to lament, “That is the problem Nao, you think that because you understand the pain you can justify the reasons for you actions. I regret everything I have lost in pursuing that bastard to the ends of the Earth. Countless lives destroyed by his sick games and twisted machinations. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did, Nao. You still have a chance. Vengeance gets you nowhere, but I have lost so much that path is all I have left... ”

"Sir?" Li-Pau queried, somewhat confused by the admission his commanding officer had made.

"Dismissed, Corporal," Damien spoke sullenly.

K21 - Impeccable Corruption - Chapter 4

The original chapter 4 of Impeccable Corruption. Seemed too...delirious, didn't bother to finish it.

I opened my eyes, but felt as though they were still closed. I felt lightheaded, as if though I weighed nothing anymore. I groaned before sitting upright, and widened my eyes at the sight around me. Various mirrors, pillars of rock and other materials floated around me, the sky a deep magenta, swirls of bright stars constantly moving. I myself was sitting on a stone no bigger than my bed at home…wherever home was.

‘A dream?’ I asked myself.

‘What else?’ A different voice answered.

I spun around, starring at a floating silhouette, a tattered cloak was the only thing I could make from the figure behind me.

‘Who are you?’ I tried to ask, though the words never left my mouth.

‘Something both present, yet nonexistent.’ Was the figure’s answer.

‘So, this is a dream?’ I thought.

The figure stopped floating, and landed upon the platform I was sitting down upon, before walking towards me. At such a close range, I was now given a full few of the figure. From toe to neck, is was dressed in a tattered black cloak, no sleeves for arms or legs visible. The figure’s head was also covered, but instead by a white mask. A single visor-slit sat in the middle of the mask, with two lightning bolt tears on either side of the visor. A single sigil was sketched into the forehead of the mask, a sigil that I hadn’t seen the likes of before. ‘A dream...yes, this is a dream, a dream in which you and I are part of.’ The figure responded.

‘I’m asleep then? If this is a dream – my dream – then you are simply a figment of my imagination.’

‘Yes,’ It told me. ‘But not just any figment. I am…special.’

‘How?’ I demanded.

Without saying a word, the silhouette took a step back. Before I could say anything, I found myself floating upwards, spinning until I was upside down. Looking back at where the figure had been standing, I noticed it had vanished. A single word ran through my mind, sending a chill down my spine. If this was a dream, then it was very lifelike. ‘Watch.’ Was the only word I heard.

I was immediately surrounded by the mirrors that had previous been floating. While at first I expected to see my own reflection, I was greeted with the reflections of different individuals. In one mirror, I saw my father, a glaring look on his face. In the second, I saw my mother, absolute disbelief and horror plastered upon her features. After those, I saw the faces of relatives I hadn’t seen in months, even years. Finally, I was met with my own reflection, though it showed a much more tired, even bitter face.

Before I could react, the first mirror, shattered into dozens of shards before falling. The second mirror did the same, and one after another, each mirror shattered, before its shards feel onto a floor that hadn’t been there before. With each mirror shattering, I was greeted by a resounding shriek that I couldn’t shake out of my head.

K21 - Blinkered Discord (Classic Edition)

Recovered from lost archives, this was intended to be the opening of Chapter One of Blinkered Discord when the story was going to be set in Greenland. This project was abandoned after the resuming of K21 - Kindred and it's radical shift of direction in to what it is today. Instead of focusing on the protagonists it would have centred around the personal accounts of Ouboa as he destroyed the Secondary Division. Other members decreed it may have been too violent even for Ghost_K and the idea was dropped. All that survives are these three paragraphs. What could have been the opening to the darkest story yet.

I needed answers. I did what I did in the quest for knowledge. All of a man's actions are merely relative to the effect they have on the whole of mankind. They all deserved death. As elementals, they were damned from the start, but as servants of the Guardians, they had chosen a path that could only serve to deliver them to the brink of oblivion. I regret nothing of my actions that day. I merely lament that they had to suffer their ailment so long as pawns of the vile Ghost_K Organisation.

Maybe this story begins when I was born. When I did not live up to the expectations of my parents. Perhaps it all began when they induced my unnatural talents, the day I became the monster I am now. Or, was it when I dedicated myself to this thankless task. In truth, there is no true beginning nor will there ever be a proper ending.

For now, I'd like to examine an event that shaped my desires to quench my thirst for knowledge. The day my cover was blown in Siberia and those I trusted most turned their blades against my back.

K21 - Kindred - Filler Interrogation Scene

A subject of constant revision and reworking, this scene was eventually scrapped due to its canonical pointlessness, for its lack of interesting dialogue, for being mostly uninspired filler, and for bringing Kamau back from the dead. Supplied example is a very early and raw version of its many revisions.

WARNING
Only big boys are allowed to read this.


A dusty room. A straight-jacketed man. An unclean man of foreign descent, his head thrown up against a weathered metal table in some contempt-ridden form of defeat.

"According to my records, you're a dead man. Mutilated beyond identification." Was the voice of Mathieu Dalton, impatient, yet controlled.

The duct tape was torn from his face, and the captive man snarled in pain, continuing helplessly in his restrained struggle.

"...my, it even seems that the tough guy persona has worn off. Mind you, it didn't take much." Came Mathieu in an amusement so rash it could be the closest thing to vicious.

The man gargled up a helping of blood-stained phlegm and shot it out across the room, clearing his throat from any excess clotting.

"Says the guy who took me from behind my back and beat me to a pulp. Fucking pussy. Is the fucking straight jacket really necessary? I've been in ropes, handcuffs, even bloody whipped to submission, but..."

"Whipped?" Came a curious Mathieu, glancing at the man awkwardly.

"Aghh, whatever. Don't ask. Anyway, as, as I was saying"

Another sore cough.

"...I'm not some head-crippled fuck you know." The captive man continued, oddly comfortable and cooperative with his capturer's will to make conversation.

Mathieu shook his head, annoyed. He crossed his arms, glancing at him with head turned at angle.

"What am I going to do? Bite off your ear or something? I can barely breathe in this thing!"

"Sounds more like withdrawal symptoms if you ask me. Dose of some cheap black tar heroin with no white stuff to come down on? Aww,"

"Fuck you." the man muttered.

"Aww, come on, now you've killed the conversation." Laughed Mathieu condescendingly, mocking him.

"I said, fuck you. I don't give a fuck. What the balls do you fucking want with me!?"

"...Alright, alright, tone it down a little. Look, I'll settle this fair. What do you say?"

"Come again?" Came the man, baffled. In all honesty, by the end of the night, the best thing he was expecting was cold lead in the roof of his palate.

"You heard me." Replied Mathieu. Turning aside towards a table that lay nearby, he reached into a medium-sized Manila folder with a girl's name scrawled on the front, taking out a reasonably fresh, plasticy slip of paper. He slapped its surface face-down onto the table in front of the man.

"Sit up." He commanded. He grabbed the man's collar, tugging it roughly as he edged him to comply.

The foreigner grumbled, putting a fair amount of effort into his back as he wheezed upwards. He blinked repeatedly, clearing his vision.

Mathieu flipped the photo over, and the captive's face sunk in fear.

"Seem familiar?"

"Holy ghost, you're truly fucking onto me." The man spoke, shiver in his voice. He looked away, mouth warped in a downward scowl.

"Oh so she is familiar. Excellent. Tell me everything you know about this girl, and I'll let you go with a several hundred thousand capitals in those philistine hands of yours. Perhaps a nice shoot-up, or trip home. It's up to you."

"You won't catch me dead flying back to that fourth reich bullshit. Fuck that place. At least I can bash a white man here and bloody get away with it. It's the closest thing to fucking heaven if you ask me." The man spat.

"Whatever. Now stop rambling on about shit I already know and tell me about the girl." Grimaced Mathieu, cutting it short. He glared at him.

"Uhm.. alright alright.. fine. Well, Uhm, she's. God, I can barely fucking remember. You ever been on drugs man?"

"Yes. Get on with it." He came rashly.

"You know how it hazes your memory up like a bitch, yeah? Well..."

"Poor excuse. Try again." Mathieu ordered, growing quickly impatient.

His mercy was a candle burning at both ends, but it was still there, however small. Mathieu was surprised that with the passing of all his years, it hadn't yet been killed off completely.

Perhaps morality really was a trait of person, and not a product of foolish naivety.

"I can't fucking remember man! Look, the money's sweet, but I've seen enough dodgy deals to see through this one, bud."

Mathieu shook his head. Immediately, he snatched a jerry can up from the corner of the room and planted it upon the table. Running his coarse fingers across its surface, he made it clear that his patience was not bountiful.

"Fucking shit." Came the captive man, sounding almost frightened.

"Alright then. We'll play it your way. It's dropped to one thousand capitals. Enough for a bus ticket perhaps. And if not, fire will solve the problem." Mathieu sighed, speaking nearly tonelessly.

"Fire? ...and you put me in a straight jacket! What is this? You're not right in the head mate!"

"Fire solves a lot of problems."

"Do you even know how expensive that stuff is!?"

"To the decimal, actually. In reality Oceania taxes biodiesel to keep it out of the poor's hands. But here in Upper Africa, it's cheaper than water. Nice try, but again, you lose. Now get on with it." Came Mathieu, sounding only very slightly amused as he retained a dominant tone.

He then proceeded to unscrew the cap of the canister, let it dangle free off its attached chain.

"I'm being remarkably merciful, you know." Mathieu groaned.

"I've never seen her before."

Mathieu laughed. Right away, he heaved up the can, letting its cold innards flow freely over the man.

"Fuck!... Fuck.. Fucking.." The man choked, trying hard to keep it out of his eyes and throat, struggling like a rabid animal within his jacket. The chair lost balance, and right before his instinct could catch up with any true sense he had fallen over to his right side, hitting the ground hard.

"Fuuckk!" He strained from in between his teeth. We was now completely soaked.

The canister was placed upon the table once more, accompanied by a loud hollow sound of emptied space. He grabbed a match box from out of his shirt pocket and placed it between him and where his captive once sat, even managing a twisted half-polite half-malicious smirk.

"Those matches are looking irresistibly appetising, don't you think?" Mathieu mused.

The captive coughed repeatedly, gagging as the rank smell of diesel fumed through his nostrils relentlessly.

"I'll fucking slit your fucking throat like fucking yesterday! You little fucking shit stain!! If you weren't such a pussy you'd have me in an old school man-on-man conversation over a fucking beer! Not in some close-quarters let's lobotomise this coon like interrogation!!..." The man screamed, teeth gashed in violent rage.

"I doubt you'd even get near me." Mathieu added, remaining calm. He felt the urge to kick his sorry face until it caved in. But indomitable patience was crucial for such a time.

"Then we're back to square one! Why the fuck is the straight jacket necessary!?" He gargled, expunging some diesel that had managed to seep into his mouth, spitting its bitter taste out repeatedly.

"I feel so defeated man. Fuck..." He muttered at the last moment.

"To save your energy, actually." Mathieu replied. He briefly checked his watch.

"You fucking cunt!! Alright. Here it is. I know who she is, alright??" The captive yelled.

"Obviously. Carry on."

With a sigh, the captive regained his breath and calmed himself down. Perhaps as calm as a vast pool of petrol, but workably placid nonetheless.

"Her name is Jackie. I was involved in a deal with a woman named... what.. ugh, Katharine or some shit, anyway, for some reason she was having this Jackie deal me the drugs in exchange for some cash. Regular everyday business, you know the deal, but with a twist. I was doing a kidnapping, intercepting the deal. Kind of a "the table was flipped, and now I got all the coconuts bitch" kind of situation, you know what I'm sayin?"

"Good. The aliases match. Now obviously you would have known of this "Jackie" in order to be able to locate her so effectively. Do you know the patron of this Jackie girl?

"...Aliases?"

"Answer the question."

"Uh... fuck, I..."

"Yes?" Came an patience-tested grumble from Mathieu.

"Rats in the system are always vermin. When you come out your shit is gone... But, you know, being overseas and out of his likely sight and all: His name was Mister Maloy. No first name. Wore a fedora and a blue suit. New Zealand accent, one which sounded pretty solid at that. Judging by that he was most likely a first classer from..."

"The accent was most likely an act, as was his surname." Mathieu interrupted.

"Wait, you know the guy?"

"No."

"And you send me through the wire for lying. Fucking dick ass."

"It doesn't concern you. What was Mister Maloy's complexion?"

The captive sighed heavily,

"I don't know, uh, black hair tied into a ponytail. Looked like a young cunt. Or middle-aged. Kind of suave, so that stuffed it up and told me otherwise. The other blokes underneath me always commented on his distant behaviour. It's almost like he didn't belong..."

"Did he have a tendency to plan things out of the blue?" Added Mathieu.

"Uh, yeah. I guess."

"Good to hear." Mathieu cut him off again, concluding the conversation. "Seems like we actually got somewhere today. That's all I need to know, for now at least."

He grabbed the matches off the table, placing them back in his pocket, and immediately began to pack up the folders on the nearby table.

The captive sighed. He disliked being cut off and dominated by other people. Still, always better than outright immolation, at least.

"I guess I'm let off empty pocketed, huh." He came negatively, with an ironic laugh.

"No. You were surprisingly cooperative towards the end. I've decided you can keep the cash."

"Fuck." Came an oddly cheerful curse.

"It's been good doing business with you, Kamau." Mathieu added, finally making some real non-hostile eye contact with his prisoner, "just one last thing."

"Eh?"

"Keep in touch."

"What am I now, your lapdog? Totally fucking hilarious mate. Ripper. Not..."

"No, a client." Added Mathieu as he proceeded to undo Kamau's straight jacket, "On top of that, your Keidis rating was surprising too. No need for a résumé when that comes into the equation."

"What does that even mean?" He added, freeing his arms as he proceeded to slip himself out from the tight, grey jacket.

"You're a skilled elemental. At the very least, on the left scale, which in that case means you have potential. And hence, puts forward the reasoning as to why I'm even bothering to bend over backward like I am to pay you." Mathieu complained.

"How else do you think a bloody Jamaican outcast makes a living in white land?" He commented.

Mathieu finally managed to force a semi-cheerful laugh, however gruff it were.

"You're smart enough to recognise political loopholes, indeed, that was interesting to observe. Nevertheless, I have other things to get to. The money's in the briefcase on the rack within the foyer in the next room, like the rest of your belongings. The pin is 1966. Keep the case. You can take the fire exit. Now leave."

"Right. Whatever. Thanks, mate."

"You're lucky it wasn't thrown away as junk and cremated today, much like you yourself."

"Yeah. Oi, one thing, can I get a name at least? I hate dodgy clients. Keeping that balaclava on for like fucking ever was one thing. Perhaps take it off so I can get a facial record?"

"Leave." Was a clean-cut and resolved comment from Mathieu.

"Break my balls man... fair 'nuff, I'll be off. Enjoy your day." He concluded, finally making his way out the door at the back of the room.

Mathieu gathered together his folders, tucking it under his arm as he readied himself to leave the building. It was a mere small underground three-storey apartment renovated into interrogation and makeshift prison, yet it served remarkably well as a risk-free place to keep the informatively necessary in a controlled place. His latest captive held a series of mannerisms that managed to even cheer up the most tedious of interrogations, disrupting the flow of his day in the most interesting fashion.

Upon exiting the building and taking the calling the shaft elevator to the subway level, furthermore linking towards surface level, Mathieu had even managed an actual laugh.

He then proceeded to cover it up immediately, gruffly regretting the thought of it.

No, Not now, not when there was so much at stake.

K21 - Blind Justice

A proposed story that was written by Lither but ultimately couldn't be finished due to the repeated violations of wiki guidelines that were ever present within the latter parts of the tale.

"Please!" was the scream I could hear emitted from a young woman, "Please! I beg of you to help me!"

The creature seemed to be banging on the doors to our encampment. I signalled one of my men to check what all of the fuss was about. Resplendent in his white and sky-blue uniform, the junior officer marched out of my prefabricated domicile and into the grounds of the temporary walls that had been constructed around my outpost.

"Oh thank God!" was the exclamation I heard as the door was opened. I waited patiently as the sound of crunching gravel grew nearer.

I heard another voice, this time that of my junior officer, "You will speak only when you are permitted to speak by His Honourable Aiko Arekusanda."

The door to my abode was opened once more as my corporal ushered the girl into the building.

"This woman was found at our primary entrance," stated the junior officer, "she appears to have originated from the town."

I sighed. While myself and, to a greater extent, my organisation of the Restored White Armies was responsible for the protection of this town, it was wearing when they sought us out over the issue of internal affairs. We were a military unit, not a goddamn police force.

I examined the girl, her white dress was torn and she was clutching her stomach defensively.

"Name?" I exhaled, slightly frustrated.

"M-Marian Lepella"

"State your intent," I demanded.

"I-I," she stuttered, "I was forced i-into… "

She broke down into tears and wept. I could already guess what had happened.

"What you are saying is that you are a promiscuous adulteress?" I quipped, with a righteous fury.

"N-no, " she wailed, "I-I h-had n-no choice… he attacked me… "

"But relations did take place?" I queried.

She collapsed to the ground sobbing. Quivering with fear.

"State the name of your attacker and he shall receive judgement!" I roared.

"A-aleci L-locata," was all I could hear through the pitiful wailing.

"Corporal Olanda, I demand that you bring me Aleci Locata," I barked, "dead or alive."

I then turned my attentions to the young woman and dragged her up to her feet.

"Yes, sir," the non-commissioned officer saluted before moving towards the door.

"And lock the door on your way out," I added, venomously, clutching on to the distressed young woman with my right hand.

I dragged her over to my desk, lifted the woman up and forced her to lie on it.

"P-please don’t hurt me," she sobbed.

"I will not tolerate adultery within my borders!” I snapped, “you are to face retribution for your crime."

I smiled broadly as I withdrew a length of rope from a cabinet that was built in to the construct.

"I-it’s n-not my fault… " she cried.

"Promiscuity is to be met with punishment," I spoke authoritatively as I tied her arms to the steel legs of the desk. The woman squirmed as I tightened the knot, tears still dripping down her cheeks.

I walked down to the end of the desk and secured her ankles to the other two steel posts.

K21 - Limitless Sun - Alternative Chapter 2

Something that Han had written in case Tahrm abandoned the site.

The warehouse was a large, plain building, long since abandoned. Its interior was flame blackened in an old factory accident many years ago and left to the mercy of its environment, as its smashed windows and graffiti-laden walls attested to. It had long since been forsaken by whoever had previously owned it. What caught my attention were the various lines of barricade tape that had been strapped across the fences that were lined around the warehouse’s perimeter to close off the sight, yet I didn’t see a single guard.

I stepped forwards to get a better look at the scene, and found the ground littered with trash and footprints. I took a knee and began to examine the prints, and quickly realized how recent they were. With that in mind, I broke into a light jog and followed the footprints until I came to the source, and it was not a pretty sight in the slightest.

A body - no doubt one of the guards stationed at the murder scene – was lying face down in the dirt. My heart skipped a beat as I thought of the possibility that the poor man was dead, and decided to investigate his body. I crouched down and turned the man over before checking his pulse. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I felt a pulse – faint, but still present. With that in mind I looked over his upper body for any signs of wounds, but came up empty handed. It was strange, because through my examination of the body I didn’t find any possible reason for why I found him laying down in the dirt.

I decided to search the area in hopes of finding more clues, and perhaps someone conscious to tell me what had happened here. A quick sweep of the perimeter found me rewarded with three other bodies, in states worse than the one I had already found. The first man was again unconscious, but the reasons were crystal clear. I had found the poor man slumped against the warehouse wall, his forehead bare and swollen. The second man was beaten and bloody, the murder weapon was an INSAS rifle, which I quickly noted to have a bloody butt and stock.

The final body was in the worst state. The corpse had been shot five times – three in the chest, and two for each knee. The man’s nose was broken across the bridge, and I knew for a fact that his right arm wasn’t supposed to bend that way.

With a heavy heart I turned and entered the warehouse, trying not to think about how the men outside had died. Fate however, seemed to have other plans. As I entered the site of my commander’s murder, I nearly reeled back in horror. Six guards lay dead, each one having died through means that tied my stomach in knots. The first three bodies had been shot in the forehead, which I found to be rather odd. I highly doubted that someone was capable of landing three headshots, and decided it would be best to investigate them later. The fourth corpse had its head full of glass shards, while the fifth had its throat cut open, and was slouched against a steel pole, while the sixth and final body was lying on the floor.

I looked away immediately, before pulling out the image Ömer had given me of Commander Anderson’s body before I had set off for my mission to see if I could identify the commander from the rest of the corpses.


Lost Article Ideas

Good Hitler

A concept that was abandoned for being not serious enough and full of too much bullshit even for K21 was the idea of lampooning Hitler though "Good Hitler", a man named Alexander Adolpho Tindal Hitler (no relation) who was a national hero in Sector XI Central American Zone. The man was renowned for the formation of the modern Sector XI, after which he retired from politics. He makes appearances in various Second World War remembrance days where he uses his unfortunate last name to raise awareness of the crimes committed by the Axis powers. In his later years, he became known as a paragon of moral virtue, campaigning for religious tolerance, ethnic integration and LGBTA+ rights, notable also for his staunchly Bolshevik views and Europhilia.

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