Zoids: Project Alexander

By DarksBane

Disclaimer: I do not own Zoids. I merely own all the characters in this chapter. No Zoids.

Re-write as of April 11, 2008

He was sitting in a lush, damp forest, surrounded by greenery and animals. The scents of the forest filled his nose, lulling his mind into a state of utter calm and decisiveness. A creek, so very near to where he was standing, trickled softly, filling his entire being with an indescribably peaceful feeling – like floating. The air was hot and damp – not like the dry, harsh wind he was so used to in the deserted areas of Zi – and it was almost soothing. A mosquito buzzed by his ear, but otherwise left him alone. It was the best he had felt in… he frowned to himself, feeling the damp coolness seem to grow heavier for a brief moment. It was the best he'd felt in years.

It was with that realization that he felt a deep jerk from behind his navel. A feeling he'd learned to associate with dread, with fear…

The creek's soft bubbling had stopped. The birds had stopped chirping, and the bugs were suddenly gone. He slowly opened his eyes, slightly apprehensive. What could make the sounds of the nature stop in its tracks? That hollow feeling – that sensation in the pit of his stomach wouldn't leave, wouldn't soothe itself. Slowly and apprehensively, his eyes searched the overhang of the jungle – nothing moved. The air was still, almost oddly so.

That peculiar jerking sensation grew stronger, and he whirled. Two large, red eyes staring out at him from the shadows. Hate filled, angry eyes. The owner of those eyes let out a ground-shaking snarl, and he knew immediately that his life was over –

A huge, hairy fist smashed into the side of his face, knocking him over flat, sending him sprawling in the sunbaked desert sand. He blinked dazedly up at the blazing sun, not bothering to shield his sensitive eyes from the burning globe of light. Hadn't he just been in a cool, calm rainforest?

Unfortunately not, he thought with a hint of bitterness, feeling his cheek go numb from the impact. Pain stabbed him sharply in his scalp, and the hot sand stung in his vulnerable eyes.

"Experiment 27!"

Experiment 27, as he was known, flinched as the man hauled him to eye level before dropping him to the ground again. 27 went sprawling, swallowing another mouthful of rocky sand.

Obviously, that was not the correct response.

"Get up!" The harsh voice bellowed from above him, seeming appalled at the experiment's total insubordination. 27 groaned, but didn't move. He didn't want to. He wanted that forest – something they had only ever seen pictures of, something they'd been taught about once. Something in the Outside. Pain split in his side, making him writhe in agony. He wasn't sure whether the crack he had heard was his ribs breaking, or the sound of the impact of the man's foot to his chest.

"I told you to get up, you worthless swine! Get up!" The man spat down at 27's face, missing by mere centimetres, bringing his foot home into 27's side once again. 27 squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Even being stranded in the desert would have been better than this place.

He knew better than to answer the huge man's insult, and heaved himself to his feet, trembling at the sudden exertion. Nutrition was 'optional' in this Place. You got food if you got results. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't. Over half the other experiments were barely skin pulled tightly over bones, prone to falling over if the wind blew too hard.

He supposed it didn't really help that no one was allowed out of the Place itself. Even when they were in the desert surrounding them at the very moment, they were fenced in with a force field. Anybody who even strayed near the border was immediately shot down, whether they were underground, airborne or otherwise.

Sucks to be them, huh?

27 already knew of five who had attempted to escape. Needless to say, none had returned. Of the original forty Experiments, only twenty-nine remained, their numbers whittled down by escapees and starvation. The Place was built to produce results. The Place was built to train the ultimate Zoid Warrior.

In the end, the Place was a death sentence.

The man, cloaked in a light cotton coat, broad-rimmed hat and shades, sneered. He cuffed 27 in the back of the neck, perhaps as a final blow of vindictive fury. It was only by slightest chance that 27 was able to stop himself from tumbling back to the hot sand.

"Get back into line, weakling." The guard whacked 27 in the back of the head again, this time with the butt of his rifle. 27 barely stopped himself from glaring back at the guard as he wandered over to the line of little less than 30 experiments, taking his place between 26 and experiment 32. Neither gave him a second glance as he sidled into place as inconspicuously as he could manage, without drawing attention from any of the nearby guards.

A man dressed in a finely-cut red jacket swaggered into 27's view, using his rifle almost like a walking cane.

In spite of himself, 27 felt his lip curl in disgust. As trainees to become the ultimate Zoid warrior, this man… Too many of his fellows had died of gun accidents.

Does he really think he can walk around with a firearm like that? Fool.

The man's hair was dark, nearly black, and slicked back from his face in a queue, threaded with a golden string. His eyes were travelling over every one of the twenty nine remaining, bedraggled teenagers, a slight smile jerking at the edge of his mouth as it passed. It would have been invisible to anyone who wasn't watching as closely as 27 was. As the blue, piercingly-cold stare passed over him, he suppressed a shudder. In spite of his foolishness – or perhaps, because of it – that young man was dangerous.

"Lord Kail!" A breathy voice huffed out. 27 glanced out of the corner of his eye towards the fat, balding man hurrying across the hot sands. The young man didn't turn towards Fat Man, his eyes still travelling over the recruits, the experiments. 27's hands tightened into fists.

"Lord Kail!" The fat man was there now, and nearly reached out to grab Lord Kail's red sleeve. He obviously thought better of it when he snatched it back almost instantly. "Milord, you shouldn't be out here with these ungroomed ruffians! Some of them are not properly trained and may attack!" Fat Man confided to the young lord in a furtive whisper, his beady dark eyes glancing around at the thin, underfed teens uneasily. 27 felt oddly offended by the whisper. Sure, they were hungry. But not THAT hungry!

Kail cocked an eyebrow at the fat man. "Why, Mister Morholt, do you suppose that?" he asked Morholt in a mild, easy voice.

"It is not right for you to be out here, on any accounts! These people –" Again, that shifty, half-glance. "- aren't normal! Mad! Prior incidents should warn you of this… Do not make me have to report this incident to your father."

27 was slightly taken aback by Morholt's latest comment. Mad? No. Earlier, some of the other experiments had turned psychotic – he wasn't sure of what the men in white coats called it, alpha madness or something – and had attacked, mortally injured and killed 5 other experiments. Those few who had gone mad were shot down. The injuries that the others had sustained began to fester after a day, and all had died within hours of each other. If 27 closed his eyes, he could still hear the tortured screams of pain and agony, pleas for death. But none had taken pity on them – they had died an excruciating death.

Not a death he particularly wished for, but the madness hadn't resurfaced since the first outbreak. There was nothing to worry about.

The skin around 27's eyes tightened.

Lord Kail smiled winningly down at Mister Morholt. "And you think my father will come out of recluse – when he hasn't for months? No, Mister Morholt. I forbid you to tell my father of this expedition. I merely wished to see what father was pouring a good part of the family fortune into. Did you really think I would buy that load of crap about funding the military? No; I see now."

Morholt opened his chubby moth, his face indignant, but Lord Kail raised a commanding hand to halt those oncoming words.

"Enough had been said. Jefferson!" He suddenly bellowed, crossing his arms over his chest as the guard behind 27 immediately straightened up, looking more alert than he had been in days. A man in a white, lab coat jumped out from the head of the line. 27 frowned thoughtfull. He had never seen that man outside before. And who would ever want to come out into this heat? The scientist normally conducted the tests on their bodies, talking about things that 27 had no idea of what they were.

The man, Jefferson, was wringing his gnarled hands together, looking considerably worried for someone of his old age. It seemed to add several years to his face. Bowing stiffly, he questioned the young lord.

"Milord Kail?" His voice was half-hoarse, half as smooth as oil. It was an irritating mixture.

"I want you to put them through their paces. Zoids – whatever you have. Battle mode -" Kail looked impossibly smug suddenly. Jefferson's dark eyes widened. "-how about 4532? Battle Mode Big Brawl."

"Lord Kail, surely you can't be serious! These – " He gestured wildly towards the teens. "-aren't ready! Not in a full scale fight! They can't even last against fixed cannons yet! You'll be sending half of them to their deaths! And the technology; it still has some major flaws."

27 didn't like this. What was this 'battle mode'? And what was a Big Brawl? He didn't like new things. And this was happening way too fast for him to comprehend. The familiar feeling of dread wormed its way into his stomach, infesting his brain with doubt and fear – like snakes, eating their way through his mind, until there was nothing there but the inside of his skull, and a dark, black fear; a cloud of black. He said deaths…

27 did not like the sound of that.

Kail breathed in suddenly, causing the scientist to flinch, his icy blue eyes running up and down the line rapidly. "So? To create the ultimate warrior, first, you must let them hone their skills." Lord Kail sounded very sure of himself. Had 27 been allowed input, he'd be screaming bloody murder.

It was without warning that Jefferson yielded to the young man's request. 27 loathed him for it.

"As you wish, milord." His voice was very quiet, almost dead. "You are the master, while your father is ill." Jefferson bowed his head, and began to shout a string of complicated orders at the guards around the experiments. 27 could barely understand what they were. He knew so little of the world, it seemed now, once he had seen someone who didn't live in the Place. And who didn't guard their tongue like a scientist from the Place, either.

27 had learned more than a small bit about the Place, in spite of the close-mouthed nature of the scientists. He believed he knew a bit about the world outside of it, too. Of course, that was the easy part. Understanding it was an entirely different matter. The line suddenly turned, and 27 was left staring at the ground in front of him.

The resulting blow from this slow reaction time sliced clean through his scalp, and his guard grabbing him roughly by the shoulder, shaking him hard.

"Didn't you hear? Turn!" the guard snarled in his ear, a rabid look about his merciless dark eyes. 27 turned as quickly as he could without falling over. Blood was dripping into his eye from the gash obvious in his scalp, making his vision hazy red and his eyes disgustingly sticky underneath his eyelids. It was nearly unbearable. But he dared not put his hand up to wipe his eye. Any unauthorized movement was death, here.

Almost without 27 noticing, they were suddenly under shade. His skin and head suddenly felt relieved, as if they had just been dunked in a bucket of cold, icy water, and soaked. Only then did he realize that his blue 'experiment' clothing were stuck to his back with sweat. The girl in front of him – 26, so she was called – was also plastered in her own perspiration. So much for thinking they had gotten used to the hot weather. The sudden cold was making 27's head begin to ache terribly.

The line suddenly stopped moving, and 27 stepped clumsily into 26, who turned to give him a nasty glare. 32 in turn crashed dazedly into him, nearly knocking him flat. 27 at least expected an apology, but 32's vacant, staring brown eyes just looked through him.

Jefferson – the chief scientist of the lab who supervised all the tests that were run through the original 40, and was, up until today, just the White Coat among the teens – strode out to the front of the line. Clearing his throat nervously, he addressed the people lined up before him.

"Today, we shall be making a considerable jump into Project Alexander, due to what the kind and gracious Lord Kail wishes us to do." From his tone, Jefferson obviously didn't think this jump was wise.

"For today, every last one of you, will pilot a Zoid. A Zoid that has been matched to suit your temperament and skill ability. I believe that I need a few more weeks to ease you into the cockpits of the mechanical devices, but Lord Kail has not seen it fit to continue with that steady easing process. Thus you will all participate in the Big Brawl that will be scheduled for tomorrow." Jefferson seemed to have finished. 27 squinted upwards. What were Zoids, anyhow? Slowly, the metal plate in front of them began to grind upwards, filling the air with inhuman screeches of stressed metal and bolts. 27 suppressed a shudder. It reminded him to much of those who had succumbed to the alpha madness.

Slowly, light fell on thirty-odd, huge, metallic hulks of metal, the brightly painted armour gleaming eerily in the faint light. An odd sort of silence settled over the room. Even the guards were silent, and the silence from the experiments was awed, instead of cowed.

26's moth was hanging open as she gaped up at the huge, statue-like creatures. 27 felt that same trepidation creep over him, settling in his stomach like a ball of lead. What were theses things? And a voice in the back of his head whispered sagely,

Zoids.