~ Prologue ~

I don't remember much. I awoke, with no memory, no purpose, no name. All I remembered was that I ran. Ran from that terrible place, a living hell. All was death and despair, and anguish. Bloodied corpses. The bitter cold of the tainted water. I was lucky. I ran and ran, and managed to escape, taking the traumatic scars of my life with me. That's what the government is. Utter monsters, ruthless in taking lives for the sake of their own ambitions, I could not bear tears admist all of my sorrows. There was no space for another crack in my already shattered heart. And all at my own childhood ages.

I wondered - if there was anyone like me. Scarred, hurt, different and unwanted. That was until he found me. Lawrence. A man who bore the same scars as I did, and his lust for revenge and power further intrigued me in that how severe his own experience was. He was rather charismatic, calm and collected, but in all ambitious. He gave us food, shelter and what was perhaps pity and compassion.

He led me to his organization known as Reverse, where I'd discovered he'd been collecting others like us - others with the same scars, and other government rebels to counter against the government. Reverse.

Revenge. Retribution. Things too complex me to understand, emotion never a thing I knew up until now. Since that day, serving Reverse was my purpose in my empty life.

I strolled alone that day, accompanied by only the mildest of twilight and rarest of the skyward lights. The gurggling streams of the flowing river beside me was a pool of a murky gray and black, unpure and filthy, at times displaying vague, but visible traces of sanguine. The Rosie River - the river of death, as some say, and that of I've experienced . I halted my feet and stared at the rather horrifying sight ahead of the black, oblong stacks of rocks near the hill sculptures.

There was that fallen man, white Albisian hair tainted by the bloodied, intoxicated filth of the river, bruised and injured all over, the human skin barely recognized, tainted by the scarlet blood that reeked by sight and smell, as I sensed the unmistakable metallic tang. He wasn't like most - he was still a full man, as I detected the slightest hint of a struggle and silent gasps escaping through his final threads of life that he clinged on. He needed help - he was in a bad shape, yet still alive. And I knew what I had to do.

I rushed to Lawrence as he and his men arrived to the scene. It was a rare occasion in which Lawrence was ever so exceptionally excited and thrilled, devoid of either anger or the cold calmness that formed his demeanour. He praised me for stumbling upon this injured man, again another rare occasion - Gauche Suede, he told me. A man that of Lawrence harbored keen interest for a while now, giving me subtle mentions of his name and other things I never really managed to understand. What I mostly found odd was that why he wanted a Bee to work for him - more of less manage to persuade him to serve his desires to one day overthrow the Amberground government, in which he was to work for extensively once he'd be promoted to Akatsuki. He was taken to the church and attended to by the medical units, relieving me of the suffocating view of the sanguine, black and blue that was all over him, laying for hours unconcious on one of the church beds. I was assigned by Lawrence to watch over the bandaged casualty with him, as I waited beside the bed, Lawrence veiled by the darkness as I spent endless hours watching - I felt no boredom, no irritation. And there was the needle of stubborn curiosity bothering me.