Regeneration

Chapter One: Morning Routine

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The young elfin boy woke with a start. The smallest shock of eco had been sent across his body, much like the tiniest electrocution. Nothing new, of course, but it startled the body every single time. He touched the display screen on his left arm, confirming it with a cough. The boy sat up and turned, getting off of his bed and exiting the small alley created by his bed and another.

He was completely alone, and he liked it that way. A glance at the electronic plate embedded on his wrist revealed the time: 3:21 AM. Good. He began to walk down the open isle between bunked beds. Tiny neon emergency lights – to be turned at a moment's notice to help in waking the men – lit his way.

The man had routinely looked at the clock on his wrist every morning, and had come to treat it as a commodity, something that was neither different nor new. It had been there as long as he could remember. However, it gave him a quick pause for thought this early morning. He hadn't remembered how he received it (not the time, but the wrist implant), it was just there. That feeling was a common emotion to him lately.

He ignored it, and continued walking towards the unlit bathroom. As he walked in, he hit a touch sensitive switch. Soft, but painfully bright, fluorescent lights flickered on above his head. He shut and locked the door behind him as before anybody would even see it. The first thing he saw was his own image.

The man was frowning apprehensively. This facial expression was oft plastered upon his face, albeit hidden under a thick layer of carbon alloy. He continued to observe himself for the first time in a few months. The boy had grown muscular over time, and he admired his body in the reflective glass. His facial features were chiseled smoothly into his face, and his pointed, elfin ears were angled ever so slightly backwards and down due to his helmet.

His hair, usually thick and scraggly as he would recall, was shortly cut and copper-colored. Short stubble of beard was emerging under his chin. The skin on his chest was a pale white. He obviously knew he wasn't getting much sun, here in the city. For that matter, nobody was. He remembered hearing something about the water supply being supplemented with vitamins, but he didn't believe it was true.

Smears of dirt were all up and down his torso. Only the Precursors knew what had soaked onto his feet. His legs looked nearly green; days ago he had been assigned to a job out in some forsaken swamp.

The man looked toward a row of showers to his right. He knew what day it was, and supposed he had to get clean. He walked over towards the bathing receptacles. His feet tapped solemnly with each step as he got in the shower. A small light immediately shone into his eye, scanning for his identification. A robotic voice, in the tone of a woman, began to speak, just as it did in hundreds of places across the city, as a steady stream of water begin to spit out onto his head.

"Welcome, Krimzon ID Number 7-4-1-5-6-8-2. Now adjusting water temperature for bodily requirements. You will automatically be cleaned. Do not attempt to modify the controls un…"

The man tapped the electronic screen in the shower to stop the standard protocol message. The voice started again.

"Greetings, Matthew. Now starting news feed I8 as selected by local administrator ID 7-0-6. Would you like to continue?"

The man, named Matt, automatically responded to the question. "Yes." His own voice surprised him; he hadn't heard it for months except through the modulator of his armor. It had become deep naturally and through likeness to the emulated tone of the Krimzon Guard. It still held softness to it, though, but was unrecognizable due to the almost gravelly tone added to it recently.

A man's voice, real this time, began to speak a pre-recorded feed. "Late last night, Baron Praxis released a demand for more Krimzon Guard troops as Metalhead groups move closer to the Dead Town limits…"

The speech dimmed down in Matt's mind as a stream of pure soap landed on his back, with water mixed in to power of the dirt and grime that had attracted over weeks.

It was now Matt's mind began to drift off to the past. He hadn't remembered much about it recently, nor had he thought about it at all for that matter. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember all that much before the Krimzon Guard. Except, of course, that he was alive.

Two Years Earlier…

He walked into the small lobby through the front door, as anybody would. He was as confident as he could be. Matt expected some sort of training exercise where he would be yelled at mercilessly until he was noticed for doing something exemplary. Almost exactly like school, except deadly.

He handed an identification card to a slender woman sitting at a square desk. She flipped the card, which read his name and an encoded string of Precursor binary, into a scanner, and watched as information scrolled across a screen. "Good morning, Matthew. You'll be in chamber A7. Right down that hallway and to the left."

Baffled, he asked, "Chamber?" The woman refused to answer much else.

Everything in the lobby was red, or a close variant like garnet. It was nearly blinding, but he supposed they had to get some sort of message across. The Praxis family symbol – excuse me, the official Haven City insignia – was emblazoned throughout the room.

Matt paused for a moment. He was now somewhat suspicious of what was going to happen, but took it all in stride and began to walk in the door. Some vague representation of prescience seemed to attack him, telling his whole conscious and subconscious that this was a bad idea.

It was metallic inside, entirely chrome. Two men stood on a platform next to a chair. One man was armored in standard Guard attire; the other was plainly dressed in a white dress suit.

"Ah, Matthew, we've been anticipating for your arrival."

Matt took the bait and answered dryly, "I didn't have much choice."

The yet-unnamed man's brow furrowed momentarily in anger, but his face quickly softened and he laughed a fake laugh. His voice had a slight accent to it that Matt couldn't quite identify. It seemed to be a Northern Sea accent, from recordings in his school. At least, he wasn't born a Havenite. "Quite right, then. We have seen you have much… talent, my boy."

Matt knew what he was talking about. The city monitored everything for exemplary traits: His mother said they use them to make better warriors; his father, on the other hand, believed they squashed them.

The man began to smile warmly. "Sit down, Matthew, let's have a chat."

Matt sat down apprehensively in the plush chair and crossed his legs, looking awkwardly as the guard standing motionless next to him. He saw nothing through the visor.

"So, it appears you have been drafted into the Krimzon Guard. What do you think?"

"I'll repeat: I didn't have much choice," Matt snarled.

The man smugly chuckled to himself, although his eyes oozed acid. "You see, my boy, we have great plans in store for you and many others. People like you will be the saviors of this city, and all the people in it."

"Why do you say that, sir?" Matt added the word sir on the end with a confrontational tone.

"Your mind has such raw energy, my boy. Energy that is wasted on the feeble thoughts of this city. You have the mind of the leader, the soul of a thinker, the brains of an intelligent young man, and the body of an athlete. All the same traits the great Mar had as he created this city. And that is why the Baron is interested in you. He wants you, not just for the Krimzon Guard, but for the sake of the city."

The guard inched closer to the back of the chair. The creepy man pulled out a thin canister. The plastic casing of it looked thick and unbreakable. Inside was sealed a goop, deep amethyst in color. Eco, Matthew undeniably recognized.

"You see, Matt, we don't follow with training anymore. Takes too much time for the need we have for guards. We have a bit of a faster way."

With that he slid the canister into a panel on the side of his chair. A screen lit up to the side. Precursor text scrolled across its interface. A bead of sweat swerved its way down Matt's face.

"Erm… I think I want to leave now." Matt began to stand. The guard instantly took action, pushing him back down into the chair with surprising force. He felt cold metal in the seat of his pants.

Matt shouted, "No, please, wait!" He was sweating buckers.

The man ignored him. "And with that, let the training begin."

A switch was flicked on the site of the chair, and beams of the Dark Eco surged throughout his body. His vision immediately became blurry, and his sense of touch fell out altogether. This was good, because the millisecond he did have feeling was horrible. He screamed in an agony he no longer felt. For a slight moment, his vision focused, allowing him to see the contents of the screen's Precursor text. It read, "Copying profile 741."

The world began to swim again. He was panting from screaming so loudly. Both the guard and the mysterious man looked down upon him. The man said through Matt's intermittent hearing a single phrase. Two seconds later, the guard would knock him out with a painful electric shock.

"Welcome to the Krimzon Guard, Matthew."