As promised, the compensation for CDC: Resurrection. Seven people, who...actually, no. I'm not going to tell you.

James Adam Elliot clambered gracefully out of the skycar as it pulled up outside the N training facility in Rio de Janeiro. The building looked huge from the outside. Built into the side of a mountain, it was easily seventy metres tall. Seventy-seven point oh-three, said the little voice in his head, the only portion of his massive intellect he ever allowed to surface. Even in his own mind. The physical stuff, the incredible speed and strength, he could do nothing about. It was his condition. He could never-would never feel emotion. Of any sort. Panic, sadness, anger, depression, all gone. Happiness, humour, joy, love, mercy, lust, attachment, all gone too. Aside from his general complete uniqueness, absolute incredibleness and the fact that no-one like him existed as far as he knew, he was quite normal. He was about six feet three inches tall, with red hair cut back so that it hung away from his eyes, which were a piercing, scouring acid green. His nose was the only part of his face that didn't immediately say, look at me. I am a genius and I can rip your head off with one hand. I know this. His nose was hooked and quite flat. It had been broken many times. As he walked up to the front of the building, a security guard moved up to him. "Sorry sir, but I need to see some ID. We had a failed bomb attack two weeks back, and extra security is in place. So, papers." James handed over his documents. The guard looked through them briefly. "Well, all seems in order. Pass granted." James thanked him, and walked past. As he walked into the main hall, he thought back. Who would have thought that the ganger from the slums would become an N marine?

John Daniel Shepard hauled himself through another pull-up, his sister, Erica, counting out. "Twenty! Twenty-one! Twenty-two!" He dropped off the bar, and smiled warmly. "New record. Your turn, Rics." The pair of them had joined the N5 program two weeks ago. Since then, a large group of new recruits had come in. John was six feet five, and Erica was six feet two. They shared the family eyes and hair, bright blue eyes and mousey brown hair. Erica wore her hair in a practical ponytail, and John had a buzzcut close to his scalp. They were both wearing medium armour, but with the weight-bearing servos turned off. This increased their weight to the point where even basic exercises were a great challenge. Erica strode over to the bar, clanking as she went. Twenty-two more pullups and two nutrient bars later, they were clanking over to the mess hall. Their armour stayed on. No servos, as before, because any training was good training. They grinned at each other, and took a spot in the queue.

Michael Nathan Jones hauled himself out of his sleeping bag, his shaggy brown hair mussed up and untidy. It was guerilla warfare training, and he, as well as the dozen or so other recruits in his group, had been dropped in the middle of the jungle to be hunted by a few platoons of mechs. One of his squadmates, his girlfriend Lizzy Ellison, was standing by the campfire. It was early in the morning, as he sidled up to her. "Hey." She gave him a shy smile.

"Hi."

"You okay? Why up so early?"

"Why are you?" She was avoiding the question. There was something wrong.

"Ok, I'll go back to bed." As he turned to go, though, the air filled with tracer rounds. They were only tranquilizer rounds, but if you were tagged, you were out. There were shouts of surprise from the other tents as his squadmates reacted. He ran for the weapons pile on the other side of the clearing. Digging through it, he found an SMG and a shotgun. He also grabbed an armour kit, for a medium armour, a few grenades, a biotic amp, and an omni-blade. Then, he turned to the camp. Spraying away at the attackers with his SMG, he examined the situation. Almost his whole group was down, just Lizzy and another guy called Oli letting off fire. Lizzy readied her omnitool, and one of the mechs turned to fire on its compatriots. Running forward, he jumped forward and grabbed the pair of them. Activating Vanguard charge, he shot forward and the trio vanished into the trees. He dropped them off at a nearby clearing, and ran towards the camp. There were heavy weapons there, including an M920-CAIN nuke launcher. As his barriers powered up, he considered his options. None of his plans went further than get the heavy weapons and nuke everything to shit. As he ran, though, a LOKI mech dropped almost on top of him. As he swung a biotic punch at it, an omni-blade swung out of its wrist. As it lunged at him with deadly intent, he flipped back. However, the blade slashed a long line along his face. It swung again, leaving a long gash on his chest. He jumped back as he could from the third swing, ignoring it as the blade came close to giving him a make-do sex change, and shot the thing in the head with his shotgun. Before he passed out, he saw Lizzy and Oli running towards him. Lizzy held up her omnitool and deployed first aid to him, before calling in a medevac. Then he passed out.

Jane, Ruby and Maria sat together at the table. The three of them were new recruits, and they had been more or less together since the start of N training. Which had been two weeks ago. They had been on the survival training, and DNA swabs, medical injections and suchlike had been happening ever since they had got back. Jane was tall and strong, with mousey brown hair and swirling purple eyes. She was six feet one, a powerful biotic for reasons unknown. She had never known her family, but instead she had memories of pain. Of a young girl, taken away and exposed to eezo close up. She needed no amp. She was just as good without one. Ruby had very strange hair, naturally red with honey-blonde streaks. Her eyes were blue-green, and she was about six feet tall. She was a Sentinel, specialising in Warp, Barrier and Sabotage. Next up was Maria, an engineer. She was the shortest in the group, only five feet nine, but no-one would ever take the piss, because if they did, she was liable to brutally murder them with her combat drone, Graham. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and light brown skin. They had been stunned in the attack on the camp, and had been taken back to the facility. When they saw Lizzy, Oli and Michael coming in, they expected banter and cheers and celebrations and big smiles. Instead, as they came in, the atmosphere was subdued. Michael was limping heavily, bandaged with gauze around his face and chest. Oli and Lizzy were supporting him. Noticing the whole mess hall staring at him, he grumbled. "The fuck y'all lookn a'? Nothin' y'never seen before?" Then he limped away. As he went, they heard him mutter under his breath, "fuckin' mechs." Then the trio left. The mess hall was silent for a few minutes. Then the group commander, John, and his second, Erica, yelled them off to training.

The VI had no name. It was a VI. It needed no name. It only knew that the old ones were coming, and that those it served now would fight them. Its first chosen one had failed to kill the Slayer. It activated the second warrior. It then sent three words to the thing as a command. Locate Paladin. Terminate.

Ta-daaa! If you like it, tell me. If not, please be gentle.