A/N: Good and evil aren't so clearly defined in the real world as they are in stories. Please leave a review and tell me how it worked out!

I don't own Animorphs.

"The Head of the Galactic Union has found it prudent to banish Crayak from Lai-Chok for serious misdemeanors. Any attempts to circumvent this exile will be dealt with swiftly and harshly. You have 2.5 megaflows(1) to exit this galaxy."

I scoffed. The Galactic Union was a joke. Lai-Chok, or any galaxy for that matter, was far too massive to rule under one system of government. The creatures were simply too diverse; what was an endearing compliment in one system could be misconstrued as the vilest insult in another. The common language helped ease these situations, but there were always going to be exceptions.

How was I supposed to know that, under their religion, the Fen-Za worshipped their moon before I redirected an asteroid into it? If I recall correctly, just 82 kiloflows ago, approximately 30% of the galaxy was complaining about the negative tidal effects that their moons caused. The Fen-Za should have been thanking me, not attacking me with their primitive nuclear fission weapons!

But I digress. All in all, I had grown sick of the Lai-Chok galaxy. Their contradictory ideals, conflicting mannerisms, and disgusting hypocrisy outweighed the excitement from the various games that I played.

Still, my exile did give me plenty of time to think. In the end, although I did not like to admit it, I did fear the Galactic Union. While the idea of unifying an entire galaxy was ludicrous and laughable, they collectively possessed far more power than I could ever hope to face. Every one power in the galaxy was able to be checked and overturned by another. But the Union stood above it all, and in that one aspect I admired them, even if I hated it.

I travelled through Z-space for 1.7 megaflows before arriving at another galaxy. I activated my sensors, sweeping out the area around me. The data flooded back into my system; this galaxy was spiral, like Lai-Chok, and I was at the farthest extremity of one of its arms. The closest star was a red dwarf, barren of any planets. I swept another system. No life. Another. Nothing.

Exasperated, I considered traveling to another, more interesting galaxy, until the first signs of life began lighting up the displays. It was in a binary system, centered around a white dwarf and a yellow dwarf. On the fourth moon of the second planet, there were two species that showed far more intelligence than the other living creatures, and there were signs of an escalating conflict. Having nothing better to do, I redirected my Z-space engines to bring me to the system.

Upon closer investigation, war had indeed broken out between the two species. However, one was naturally carnivorous, and they easily exterminated the opposing herbivores. Their populations boomed after the victory, as no other creature on the moon posed a threat. I conjectured that, in a few thousand years, they would start forming more complex societies. And maybe they would discover the intricacies of politics and rulers. And maybe they would proceed to lord over the moon and spread throughout the galaxy, oozing arrogance out of their every membrane.

Perhaps it was a lapse of insanity, or boredom, or spite against the Lai-Chok government. Nonetheless, the very thought of those species developing and growing sickened me, so I decided to send a probe down to the surface of the moon. It captured a few specimens and returned them to my planetoid body.

Visually, the carnivores did not look very threatening. They had few natural weapons and only had the most basic inklings of sentience. However, their DNA showed potential for change, and I began my work.

After I was done with my modifications, they were— quite simply— engineered machines. Their pure blue eyes were capable of targeting a victim's most vital organs; their skin was elastic and flexible, doubling as both a defensive protection and an offensive advantage; and on top of all that, they had a howl designated to kill. Yet, I made sure that the carnivores would never have any strong mental maturity. They would never grow. They would never develop. They would forever remain children. My children. My Howlers.

I released a small group of Howlers back onto the moon. In short, the results were brilliant. Within three kiloflows, they reduced the planet's biodiversity by 78%. On the surface, there were no more power cycles of species surpassing other species. My Howlers were unmatched, and there were absolutely no exceptions to that fact.

Suddenly, this new galaxy that at first seemed so barren now teemed with possibilities. If I could make the life on one moon of one planet so incredibly and beautifully simple, why couldn't I with others? This would be my game: simplification and perfection. I would craft a galaxy with absolute order.

I gathered my creations and began to explore. Constantly, I looked to simplify, to reduce, to eliminate the superfluous. I forcibly pitted species against species, making one exterminate the other. Those who learned my name cursed it. I brushed aside their insults and empty threats. They didn't see the overarching beauty of it. I did.

My game soon became an obsession. By reducing, I simplified. By simplifying, I perfected. By perfecting, I won.

And I needed to win.

(1) A "flow" is a unit of time. It uses SI prefixes because… that makes sense?