Hate.

The small ones hurt us. We hate the small ones

Fear.

They fear our power. We must find a new way to hurt them.

Hate.

We must make them hated.

Pain.

We shall make a Corps.

Confusion.

We know nothing of the spectrum. Or rings.

Glee.

No, but we do know how to make soldiers.

Understanding.

We make a cruel parody of their precious Corps.

Cruel anticipation.

One to sow chaos and fear.

Hate.

They will beg for mercy.

Curiosity.

What form should our devices take?

Glee.

We have an idea.

Savage glee.

We adore this idea. The slaves must make it now.

In front of the four beings hovered a simple hologram of a blue scarab...

Author's Note: This fic is basically the do-over for Khaji-Da. I'll be exploring the enmity between the Reach and the Guardians of the Universe with this fic, and there will be a couple OC's in the mix...