The first thing Alex noticed about the man handing him an assault rifle and a set of Blue Suns' armor was the scar. It looked like someone had taken a chainsaw to one side of his face and attempted to perform surgery on his jaw with it. It would take serious willpower to survive a wound like that, and Alex decided he would extend the utmost courtesy to the man by not shooting him the face for calling him Meat earlier.

"My name is Zeus," Alex growled back, taking the gun with a little more force than necessary.

"You have to earn a name like that, Meat," the man replied casually, not at all intimidated by the blond haired youth glaring at him. "So you killed some little twerp who badmouthed your sister. That doesn't scream king of the gods to me, kid."

Alex smirked. He was probably older than everyone in the room; being called kid wasn't something he was used to. "Then by your reasoning, I should be calling you Scarface."

'Scarface' smirked back, the scar stretching awkwardly as he did so. "Name's Ethan, kid. No fancy title."

Alex pulled on the armor and frowned at it. He'd take it off when he found somewhere private and change it into biomass armor, so it'd be less constricting.

"What's the matter, Meat? Too heavy for you?" Ethan grunted as he pulled another rifle off the stack to hand to the next recruit in line.

"Just because you have the muscle mass of a six year old girl doesn't mean everyone else does, Scarface." Alex slung the rifle over his shoulder and clipped Bruce's pistol to his hip. He heard Ethan snort and smirked. He hadn't had the chance to just… banter like this since his days in Manhattan. "This armor is crap. People actually expect you to fight in this shit?"

Ethan glanced at him as he handed the fidgeting kid from the recruiting room a pile of armor, which he promptly collapsed under the weight of. "Santiago and Massani don't waste creds on kids that'll be dead in a week. Prove that you're a tough SOB to kill, and they'll get you some real armor."

Alex turned his head to look at the kid struggling back to his feet and rolled his eyes, grabbing the armor and holding it one arm as the dark-haired youth surged back up, looking around nervously.

Yeah, he'll be dead in a day. Alex looked him over as he handed the armor back to him, watching the kid stagger a bit under the weight of it. He doubted the kid would even be able to wear armor like that, nonetheless fight in it. "This might be the wrong line of work for you," Alex pointed out as the kid wheezed out a breath when he shoved the armor onto a nearby table.

The dark-haired boy couldn't be a day over seventeen, and glared at Alex over the pile of armor he'd collapsed over to catch his breath. The kid made some angry-looking hand gestures that triggered a spike of pain behind his eyes as a memory offered up a name for it. Sign language? Alex thought incredulously, raising both brows.

The kid was mute?

Alex watched with amusement as the kid snarled at him and began pulling on the armor as if proving he could do it. "What's your name, kid?"

The boy looked up, confused at the change in tone. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and held out a card with his picture and his name on it. His license? Alex glanced down.

James. Alex flicked the card back at him and watched him fumble to catch it before looking at Ethan. "All right Scarface. What's next?"

Ethan grunted as he handed the last recruit his gear and wiped his hands on the armor of his leggings. "What's next is combat training. Gotta weed out the bastards who can't shoot straight and figure out which of you is worth keeping." He looked disapprovingly at James, who had just finished pulling on the armor and was holding his helmet in both hands. "So pick a partner, Meat, and get your ass to HQ."


Alex blinked as one of the recruits flinched when the needle bit his skin. Ethan had sent them all over here after they'd worn themselves out in the shooting range to get tattooed. Apparently most of the mercs liked having the Blue Suns logo somewhere on their person, and Alex was curious. He'd never gotten a tattoo before, and he figured it would be interesting to see if the ink stayed with him when he shifted forms.

James shifted uneasily beside him, looking nervous. The kid had latched onto him after they'd left the range, and Alex just pretended he wasn't there. He didn't really mind that the kid was following him around since he was quiet and didn't touch him. If he'd been a chatterbox, or able to speak at all for that matter, Alex might have thrown him out the nearest airlock.

"Where you getting yours?" Alex casually asked the jumpy young man, who paused before pointing to the underside of his forearm. Alex raised his brows. Not the most comfortable place to get a tattoo; kid must be trying to prove he could take it. James made a questioning motion and Alex shrugged, pointing at his left shoulder.

On the off-chance the tattoo was actually permanent, he wanted it somewhere he could cover it up but show off if he needed to. It wouldn't do for Alex Mercer to walk around with the Blue Suns icon stamped on his forehead, after all.

When it was his turn, Alex watched the recruit before him rubbing at his back as he walked off before sitting and pulling off the breastplate of his armor and rolling up the sleeve of the shirt he wore underneat. He wasn't sure what to expect when the needle touched his skin, but it was rather anticlimactic. He literally didn't even feel it, so he just glanced around the room waiting for it to be over.

When he stood, he craned his neck to look at the blue logo covering his left shoulder, and smirked before heading for the quarters Ethan had pointed out on their way over. James grabbed his arm as he walked by and stared at him pleadingly, and Alex bristled with the gut reaction of snapping the boy's arm off at the elbow to remove the unwanted contact. He settled for a withering glare that had James shrinking back. He wanted to get into a room and change this damn armor into his biomass. It was constricting, and he felt like a robot trying to walk around in it.

'Wait. I'll get lost,' James signed frantically, looking agitated and nervous. Alex sighed and glared at the young man. He wasn't sure which of the myriads of personalities in his head could read sign language, but it was times like this he wished he could just play dumb and walk away.

"I'm not your damn babysitter," Alex bit out, gesturing at the waiting man and the chair. "Find someone else to hold your hand for you."

James' stare hardened into something almost impressive before he pointed at Alex and then at the ground. Alex cocked a brow, raking his green eyes over the kid. Either James had a death wish, or he had balls. Or he might just be an idiot. Alex frowned.

"Do you want me to kill you?"

James hesitated, looked at the chair and then at Alex again. Then he flicked his eyes imperceptibly to the doorway where a few other recruits were lounging around. They had been the first to get their tattoos in various unsavory places, and really had no reason to be sticking around. Alex glanced over at them and saw them eyeing him and James as if wondering how much trouble they'd get in for starting a fight.

'They've been following me,' James signed once Alex turned back to him. Alex sighed and looked back at the thugs by the door. He didn't have time for this shit. The armor was starting to chafe in places it really shouldn't be chafing, and he would rather be gargling broken glass than playing babysitter to some kid.

Alex sent a significant look to James and pushed him towards the chair as he headed for the door. The thugs moved to block his path and Alex tensed, eyes checking them for concealed weapons and not finding any.

"Get out of my way," Alex warned them, flexing his fingers. Idly, he recognized a few of them as the cronies of the idiot who'd insulted Dana. He'd pay special attention to those two.

"Yeah? Why don't you and your boyfriend there make us," the 'leader' snapped back, irritated. He was one the cronies. Alex decided he would break his neck and use him as a meat shield against the others.

Alex shrugged amiably. "All right."

He grabbed the leader by the collar of his armor and jerked him forward, putting his free hand on top of the man's head and twisting his wrist. The audible crack was enough for everyone in the room to turn and stare as Alex threw the dead idiot into his nearest friend with enough force to cave in the unfortunate recruit's chest, sending them to the ground. With those two out of the way, Alex turned to the other three and waited. Eventually, they got over their shock and one of them came in swinging. Alex tsked.

Such poor form. Alex caught the punch in one hand and smirked at the recruit's surprise. He twisted and pulled the man's arm around his back, snapping it, and as the guy yelled out in pain Alex kicked him in the back, sending him flying across the room and denting the wall on the other side. He felt the other two idiots grab his arms as they tried to restrain him, and Alex had to actively fight off the urge to just let his tendrils crawl from his skin and consume them. They were right there, after all, but he figured blowing his cover this early would be a Bad Idea. So he settled for wrenching his left arm free as if the man holding him had only the strength of a two year old and elbowing the guy in the face. The sound of a breaking nose and shattered skull as the man gurgled and fell to the ground was enough to make the second guy let go and back up a step.

Alex rolled his eyes at the obvious terror on the guy's face as he took him by the neck and pinned him to the wall, glaring down at him. "You really should have gotten out of my way."

He kneed the idiot with enough force to ensure that his family name would die with him before stepping back while the man crumpled to the ground, whimpering. Alex rolled his neck and shook out his fingers, looking at the wide-eyed audience watching him. The idiot that dented the wall might live with treatment, and the man hunched in on himself on the ground probably wished he was dead, but the other three were down for the count.

Alex glanced up and caught James staring at him with his mouth open. His eyes would probably fall out of his head if they got any wider. Alex shrugged at him and headed for the barracks. He wanted to get this damn armor off and replace it with his own version. He had been sloppy with those recruits; the armor slowed down his reflexes and he'd overestimated his ability to maneuver in it.

James could find his own way back.


A/N: Alex really can't go twenty four hours without killing someone, can he? Ethan and James are OCs, just side characters to give everything a little depth, but Ethan is mentioned briefly in Ch. 37 of CDC.