Ahahaha. Apparently author's notes are going to be a regular thing now. Great. Well, I have finals next week (*screams for a thousand years*) but I promise to have a chapter up by the first of next month, if not sometime next week. WRITING IS HARD OKAY GUYS. R+R!

...

Conner waited anxiously for M'gann to return from inside her worst fears. Nobody wanted to make a mistake- nobody wanted to obstruct the beauty of The Light.

...That was right, wasn't it? Of course it was, it must be. How could it not be, it was The Light: the savior for all mankind. It must be.

He paced.

He glared.

He groaned.

He agonized.

Every moment she was away was a moment in which one of his own worst nightmares came true. She would return, overcome with guilt- his guilt. It was his fault, for questioning The Light. It was his fault, and he couldn't even believe he had ever questioned the perfection of The Light's plan. Right? Oh, he was thinking too much over this. The Light were good. But curse this wretched waiting!

The door slid open.

He whipped around, gathering the distressed Martian in his arms.

She sobbed quietly into him.

Quietly, because if they were loud they'd receive another punishment. His eyes narrowed at the mere thought, and he found himself pulling her closer. They were not of this world, he knew, and in more ways than one. The newest, most untrained, and most powerful, they had to stick together to make it through training, so it was only natural they'd started dating after a while. Conner found himself unsure of that, too. It was strange to think of himself that way, but M'gann had suggested the name. She was sweet and sentimental in that way, didn't want him referring to himself as an 'it' just because they'd told him to. It was her sweetness that worried him, really. She would get them both killed sometime, and he couldn't see her suffer any more at the hands of the Light.

But- how could a good organization be so cruel? Sure, they'd messed up- Conner didn't need genome programming to know that.

{No, they'd messed up far too badly this time.}

But... Something seemed wrong. {No, nothing was wrong.}

How could they kill so many people?

{They only killed enemies of the light, the ones who tried to prevent the salvation of the human race.}

How could they cause so much torment?

{Torment? He'd only been receiving his rightfully deserved punishment...} His head was beginning to hurt. The contrast of thoughts was so strong he couldn't even recognize them as his.

[They are not of your own mind, Brother.]

Conner startled, shaking his head. That voice... His thoughts were swept away, in the next moment. Although he could no longer hear or remember that voice, he could now focus his thoughts to his own purpose.

This was enough. No matter what The Light's purpose for mankind, he couldn't see M'gann was the last time, he promised himself.

They were getting out.

...

Even through the hiss of the showers, Artemis could hear the hiccuping noise of M'gann's sobs. She pressed her forehead to the wall. She'd failed to serve The Light, she'd failed, she'd failed... The top of Kaldur's silvery blond head could be seen over the shower stalls. She needed to apologize to him, but she could do that later.

For now, she addressed the persistent nudge in the back of her mind. Something was wrong. She couldn't remember what was wrong but it definitely felt wrong. In fact, the wrongness of it shook her whole being.

A slight sting on her calf distracted her. Bending to examine the offending injury, her eyes caught on the shape of the cut, irritated by the soap she'd been using. It was a... Key? Artemis furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember why she would have carved that into her skin. Carved wasn't an exaggeration- she'd really gone deep. She would have to talk to Kaldur later. {And apologize. For failing. For never being good enough for anything.}

But. A key. They'd messed up, sure, but a key was something else, something important. Something big must have happened as a result of their screw-up. She'd never had to carve it into her skin before to remember. Artemis needed to find out what their real punishment had been.

Upon initiating the awkward conversation, Artemis apologized, though Kaldur argued valiantly to reassure her.

Back in his rooms, he held her to him, her chin resting on his shoulder. He traced a question mark on her back, and she knew he'd been able to pick up on her plight. Pulling away slightly so she could look at him, she noted his slightly quirked eyebrow and cocked head. She made her decision, leaning in and kissing him gently. With one hand cupping his face, her other traced letters on his back, messaging him her concerns. Specifically, she mentioned the key on her leg, a signal she'd made for herself when she knew something was about to go wrong.

Kaldur pulled away.

She felt the impending heat-rush to her face, nerves and tension all boiling to her flaming cheeks, which was almost completely unrelated to her previous concern and had more to do with the boy- no, man, she loved. They never really talked about their relationship but she knew him (maybe? She thought?) and he knew her (hopefully…) and in this business you just couldn't talk about these things, especially if you weren't the boss.

He tucked some stray black strands of hair behind her ear before angling his head toward the cameras mounted in the topmost corner.

She nodded, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"I can't remember. I don't understand. We failed a mission, didn't we?"

He confirmed, further fueling her suspicions.

"There is one more thing we can check," he reminded her, gesturing to the clock.

They had a quarter of an hour until lunch (seeing as the mission had gone overnight, and everyone had skipped breakfast to shower after... She couldn't remember.), fifteen minutes until they could figure out what had happened. Until then, they waited together.

Artemis trudged to the lunch hall. Picking up a tray, she moved over to a table in the corner, settling it down at the usual place. One by one her teammates joined her, sitting with varying degrees of hesitancy. Silence hovered over the table, a cloud building for a downpour. M'gann's intermittent sniffles were the only noises to permeate it.

Conner slammed the tray down, seething.

"Conner, calm down," Renegade told him. He held his arms stiffly while spooning out his soup. Artemis was willing to bet that if she'd raised his sleeves, she'd see the angry red marks on his wrist he got from squirming during Psimon's sadistic little torture sessions. That clinched it.

Apparently Conner had figured it out, too, judging by his next words.

"How could you just sit there, knowing each other were being tortured by Psimon? How could you let each other suffer like this? How can you just sit there, doing nothing?"

"The rightful punishment of others does not concern us," stated Kaldur, empty eyed and stone faced. Her stomach plummeted. She knew it was probably what some would call a coping mechanism, but it hurt to see Kal go mechanical. She couldn't tell if it was trained into him or his own doing, either, which scared her more.

"What are you, a robot? Do you guys even have emotion?" The dark skinned teen flinched at the barb. She nudged him with her foot, but he wouldn't look at her.

"Conner, we could not have done anything as it were. Interference would have resulted in further punishment," explained Artemis, fighting back the urge to hit him.

"But why? Why punish others for your mistakes?"

No reply.

"That's it, I've had enough," announced Conner.

Artemis slammed her fist on the table, ready to screw logic and secrecy and tell him exactly what she thought. The clone fell silent.

"Conner, stand down. You will only cause more grief to M'gann," interjected Kaldur, smoothly, before she could ruin their lives.

"Why should I? I don't take orders from any of you! I'm sick of this place," the clone growled.

"Conner, please," argued M'gann, weakly. She didn't like staying, but she couldn't bring herself to leave.

"No! M'gann, they hurt you! They've controlled you. Listen to yourself- you can't say no to them, can you?"

The Martian bowed her head in shame.

"I just want to- to- Agh!" the clone struggled to find an action that would suitably encompass his anger, balling his fists.

Renegade looked up for the first time during the conversation. "Then leave."

Though the words were simply venom, apathetic to outcome, the advice itself was almost sound. The original three assassins each sat down separately, seeming to realize the clone was done. After some shuffling and glances between them (moreso between Kaldur and Artemis, since Renegade was occupied with scowling at his lunch), they were all continuing as they'd been previously, eating in silence. Meanwhile, Conner sat in a stupefied silence. The rush of anger had almost completely dissipated. He'd meant to stay angry, maybe start a fight. But the prospect of leaving...

Artemis, Kaldur, and Renegade stood. Shuffling out of the hall, Conner almost missed the keycard so innocently left behind.

Almost.