Hello again! Finally managed to finish this chapter. Now we properly introduce some of the antagonists... And show a little characterization of people :D

Chapter 2: Inheritance

"The first question I am going to ask you today…" Professor London began, without further ado and without bothering to address the obvious misgivings most of the class had about him, "…Is how many of you have a will written up." Yet more shocked reactions from the class, though these were comparatively more subtle.A will? He was asking them how many had their deaths in order? Yes, this was a military academy to be sure, but most of them were still quite young…

Well, Larry sure as hell didn't. He froze up, scratching his head in confusion, and a little fear. Sure, he didn't plan on dying, but the battlefield was a scary place, as his father and grandfather had told him so often. So many brushes with death, so many ways to see allies die, with the constant knowledge that you could be next. Or first. Sure, his father was by now done with that, as he was raising a family now, but the boy wondered if he'd done as the Federation officer before him had instructed back when he was new to it.

Samantha sighed, looking down, thinking back to her time in the Second War. Nothing but running supplies and cleanup, after the battles were already over. A boring job where all she heard were stories. She didn't have a will written up then, either. Not planning on dying in the fighting was one thing, but she wasn't expected to fight in the first her… Concentration, and that of most of the class that was sat near the door, was broken by an… Interesting smell. She, Larry, Eclaire, and a blond Engineer girl of an oddly similar appearance and manner to Morgan(though lacking some of her more overtly boyish traits) turned to the source of the scent. Zamuel caught it too, and was, of course, annoyed. By that and the question of a will. Who the hell would he have to write it to? Just a pain in the ass was what it was.

Standing at the door was yet another Engineer. There seemed to be a lot of them in Class E. In his head, Larry wondered if that was the real reason for the class letter. The latecomer was dirty in some spots on his skin, even though his uniform was clean(if severely hastily put on). He gave a salute to the Professor, not really caring one way or the other about his very clear and obvious allegiance. "Miles Maldonado, Engineer, reporting…" While he clearly had an eye for procedure, if not presentation, it was obvious that this black-haired boy, with blue eyes matched only in color by a Darcsen's hair, was… A very nervous sort.

"At ease." London said as he returned the salute, then dropped it. Though the officer most definitely noted Miles'… Unique presence. He directed Miles to the empty chair just in front of the blond girl that was sitting next to Eclaire. Said girl looked a little disgusted at the thought, but did not complain, and obeyed without voiced objection. The headband-wearing young girl next to her turned and whispered carefully.

"Meestresz Katarina… Perhaps we should vacayte?" She put forth, but the one she so addressed with such respect shook her head, annoyed as she was. Katarina, as she was called, scrunched her face, though, with a little frustration, as if someone was speaking to(and annoying) her despite the class being otherwise silent.

Miles sat down as instructed, and looked toward Mr. London, who repeated the question as before. "I ask again, for our new arrival: How many of you have a will written up?"

Katarina's hand shot up, if only because answering the question would help her ignore the terrible smell about Miles. "All of the Sterling Estate's affairs are in order in that regard." She stated, in a very formal tone. At the end of that, she gave an almost accusatory look at their Class Chair.

London nodded, and looked around at the other students in the classroom. Some others raised their hands, but the grand majority did not. "Very well. Those of you who do not have them in order, I would like you to do so. Ours is not a career that guarantees survival. And war breeds selfishness. I'm sure the last thing you want is for a family heirloom or valuable to be taken by a greedy comrade on hearsay, with no documentation to say otherwise."

This struck a chord with most of the students in the class… Particularly Morgan, who seemed to pale at the thought of the question. Zamuel still utterly failed to react with either fear or determination. Only contempt. He gave a scoff at the notion of writing a will.

"Please, commence now. I understand the… Emotional difficulty in such an action, especially at your early age." London said, as he began to walk around to monitor the students' progress.

Larry heard a sniffle a couple seats off beside him. When he turned to spot the source, he found a girl who looked a little chubby and stocky. And MORE than a little sad. The Engineer sighed at this. If he was a little more afraid to die—and he was plenty as it was right now—he'd be in her place. The tears wouldn't stop subtly coming from her green eyes, and the fact she seemed to have some kind of scar on her face told Larry that maybe she'd been through a little.

That Miles boy was looking about as distressed as everyone else. Less so than Larry himself, though, which made the Engineer feel a little pathetic.

He would've looked to see how Samantha might've been acting in the face of this request, but something told him he'd never get anything done if he kept looking around at everyone else. At the same time, he was still shaking. Larry WAS afraid to die, and even as he pulled the paper out where he would write who got what in the eventuality of his death on the battlefield. Taking out a pen, he began to think, even in his fear, and started to put it into words, tuning out somewhat Mr. London's approach through his row of desks.

I, Larry Eiling… In the eventuality of my death on the battlefield… Do hereby state that my gun be retrieved and inscribed with my name, and sent home to my parents. All books which I own, save for "World of Tanks and Nation of Arms", shall be given away. To John Eiling, my father, and Maria Eiling, my mother… Please give my sincerest apologies that, unlike him, I was unable to survive long enough to return and start a family like he did, or his father before him. Now he was starting to cry. Even if he wanted to be a mechanic and not a straight fighter… If there was anything his father achieved that he did, it was going out to the battlefield as a career, and coming back physically and mentally intact. With a sniffle, Larry chuckled at the dark irony that this was already getting to his own psyche. But the Engineer wiped his tears on his sleeves, taking a deep breath so that he could calm down enough to continue. If my body is in such a state that it did not sustain too grievous injury, bury me in my uniform. Again… Mom, Dad… I'm sorry if I don't make it back.

It certainly read like a final letter enough to make the boy put his head in his arms and try to save himself some embarrassment by crying silently into them. He could hear a few other members of the class be less subtle in their fears. He really was a little disappointed in himself to be so afraid, though… Wasn't this what he signed on for? What good was… Being afraid going to do him?

It took a minute, but he'd finally stopped. Wiping his face dry again, Larry carefully looked around to see how everyone else was doing. Zamuel had leaned back in his seat, his hands behind his head and looking pretty relaxed. Turning his head slowly beside him, he saw the girl Eclaire had referred to as "Mistress" composed enough, and not having written a thing since she said all that was in order for her family.

Looking behind him now, he saw a relatively composed, if distressed, Samantha, writing. She didn't seem to be crying, though. The Engineer attributed it to the fact she was definitely a tough chick. He'd certainly gotten to know enough girls in the past not to stereotype them as being overly emotional. And if this class was any indication, he was correct.

It was then that Samantha put down her own pen, and gave Larry a tap on the shoulder. "Hey, you OK?" She asked, looking a bit concerned… Maybe a little surprised. He nodded in response, grinning a little and scratching his head nervously. It somehow didn't seem to mess up his hair too much, though. He supposed it was a good thing he kept it just a little short.

"I'm fine… Just… Y'know… Death's a tough subject for anyone, yeah?" He whispered back, only to get a more playful punch in the shoulder than before. Carefully, he sent one right back at her, the red starting to leave his eyes now. This was nice, he thought. Crying one moment and playing with someone he'd just met the next.

"Sure it is, wimp." The Lancer replied, giving a playful wink at him. She chuckled a bit, and looked at London, Larry following her gaze. He seemed… Neutral about their attitudes. Unreadable. He could've been thinking it was a breath of fresh air, or it was completely out of proper conduct.

"Oh, I get why you're not afraid, Beautiful. Angels like you can't be killed." He gave a wink of his own, and a tiny, TINY groan escaped from Eclaire nearby him, which he unfortunately did not here. Samantha reddened just a bit, but covered her mouth so that she wouldn't laugh aloud. It made Larry grin more. OH, he knew that was a cheesy one, but he had a way with words that at least made it sound amusing.

Then, Mr. London spoke again, ending their conversation for the moment. His blue-green eyes scanned across the classroom as he did. "All of you who've written something so far, that's not legally a will. It is the beginnings of one. You are to finish it out of class. Now, to ensure that everyone is here that needs to be…" He picked up a roll sheet, and started going through the names.

At the end of it, everyone who was in the class was present, and that pleased him greatly. "Now, I have another question for you… How many of you have your weapons in the class?" This one really perplexed the students, and they started muttering amongst themselves… Some of the things they said were not very nice.

The Federation man was NOT impressed at this. "When you have been released from class, I request that you all go to the armory and grab a weapon. Keep it on your person at all times. You never know when you might be in a situation that may require it."

That might have been true… Larry certainly agreed with the sentiment… But for some of them that would be a very hard thing to do all the time… Then again, this was a military academy, he realized as he chuckled to himself. They would have to do this sort of thing in far worse conditions than walking around a school. He guessed that London really did know what he was talking about, even if his presence wasn't universally accepted. He guessed he'd have to go get his Viper soon enough. When he looked back at Samantha, he could see she was grinning happily(and no longer blushing at all, at that). Whatever she might have been thinking, she definitely approved of the idea that she would get to carry her Lance everywhere. For what, Larry could only guess, but he thought it might be just a little dangerous to ask.

"Armor as well." London continued. More and more disagreements among the classroom, none loud or brave enough to be directly addressed to the Professor. "I understand that some of you do not approve of this… But all of you must understand in turn… This is a war. The enemy will not wait until you can run to the armory and get yourselves ready. They will be doing as much as possible to PREVENT that from happening. Therefore, we must always be one step ahead of them. Rebels, Imperials, or Valkyrur-forbid, Federals if it comes down to it." Some were about to voice their opinions against that last comment, but he would not let thiem. "Be silent. If you are prepared now, you will learn to be prepared later. If your truck gets turned over, you'll at least have your weapons on you. If your tank gets raided, you'll at least have your weapons on you. If your armory and supplies get destroyed, you'll at least have gotten what you needed before that happened. Do you all understand THIS?"

Larry sure did… Much as he didn't trust that comment about Federals possibly being their opponents, the man raised valid points. He resigned himself to the fact he'd be carrying a little more weight around than his books from now on.

"I asked if you all understood." The Professor repeated, and the entire class answered this time.

"Yes, Professor London, Sir!" A few of the students, their class chair included, gave a salute in their seats.

"You're dismissed." Everyone began to put away their wills-in-progress, and stood up to leave. Larry, as he did, got his book and stood, giving it a few looks over the pages before closing it. He'd read it while he ate.

"Ow!" He was suddenly slapped in the back of the head, and turned to look at who'd done it… But he saw no one… Only Eclaire and Katarina walking off as quickly as possible from what he could tell. He discarded the notion that it might have been either of them, though. That would've just been… Well, implausible.

"So, what are you going to do now?" He asked Samantha, as he climbed over his desk to start heading to the door.

"I'm gonna get my lance." Was her laughing reply as she VAULTED over the desks, making the Engineer laugh in turn. "Race you!"

"Hah…" Larry put his book in the bag at his side, and ran out the door. "Last one who gets there's a Colonel Fatass!" He shouted. It was probably the last real chance he was going to get to act like a kid about things, the way they were looking…

Kloden Forest, Undisclosed Location, Research Compound

Her name was long-lost… She was known only now as Ragnium-1. Formerly Subject 7. But she'd been nicknamed "Paragon" for her unquestioning loyalty. This young woman, with Darcsen-blue hair, but red Valkyrian eyes, was an experiment from birth. Created from the… Union of a Darcsen man and Valkyria woman, she was a test to see if a Darcsen-Valkyria could happen in the first place. She showed the usual superhuman healing factor and better strength and reflexes of one descended from the fabled race, but was otherwise shown unable to awaken, no matter how much it was tried.

But now, she was something greater. Paragon drew forth a syringe filled with a glowing blue liquid. The one who created her, Dr. Illianara, who now worked alongside Colonel Pailsen, called it Ragnium. A refined form of Ragnite, created near the end of the previous month… It was the first phase in fully finalizing the Perfect Soldier project. Pailsen and his scientists knew that what gave the Valkyrur their strength was the Ragnite that flowed through their very bodies. As such, they attempted to implant it into various soldiers. In its original state, the Ragnite merely killed the weak, and crippled the strong. But now there was Ragnium. The Perfect Soldier project had created a derivative of the substance that increased threefold the strength of the average soldier. Paragon was the first successful test subject, hence her new name as Ragnium-1. Pailsen had realized at the beginning of the month, when the Ragnium had finally been properly refined, that a wholly obedient soldier was not the only thing that would make them viable for Project Valhalla. They needed strength beyond that of mortal men to start with. The new Perfect Soldiers would be just that, thanks to Ragnium.

She jammed the needle into her right arm and pushed the contents in, not caring that it left a hole in her Gallian-blue uniform. She didn't question why she wore it, not that she questioned much to start with. Pailsen's quirks were not her concern. This was her purpose. Already Paragon could feel her strength building up. The Ragnium was warm beneath her skin, and the world was starting to slow down and become more perceptible around her. Everything was amplified. But she knew as soon as the adrenaline of battle kicked in, she'd need to end this quickly alongside her fellow Candidates.

And then an announcement rang out across the open area where she and the others were. There were a few sandbags and some makeshift structures for cover, as well as the trees of the forest. Enough to make it look like a proper battlefield.

A powerful, extremely authoritative masculine voice spoke across the entire area, and a bit further off. "The target is just over the next hill! You are to engage and then pass the checkpoint! Do not be lax simply because this is a simulation! BEGIN!"

Paragon could hear the far-off footsteps. She waited for the other Candidates to get moving, then picked up her standard Warpick and riot shield, following quickly after them. Once they stopped, she did as well, and ducked behind a sandbag. Briefly, she fiddled with a small lantern at her waist, testing it. A remnant of the initial, close-minded ideals for this project. The Perfect Soldier could see the enemies starting to come down and around the hill, and readied herself.

-SHIFT-(A/N because little symbols and stuff don't goddamn show up on Fanfiction)

Carson Cuvie. GRA soldier. Shocktrooper. Veteran of the Second Europan War. While he fought on a front that did not see him at Ghirlandaio, he still saw much action, and achieved quite a few awards. A man of six foot three, with blond hair and blue eyes, he revolted because he saw the Darcsens as unfit to rule. Carson shared not the extremist views of most of the Revolutionaries, but all the same he would rather serve them than Lady Cordelia. Or just Cordelia, as he mentally referred to her. And now… He and twenty-one others were handpicked to join Colonel Pailsen's elite, but secretive unit. But first they would be tested to see just how good they were.

He saw the enemies up ahead. Already he could spot the edge of a couple of Mortar Lances coming over the sandbags and cover, and a few other signs of soldiers. One of his comrades a little further ahead grinned as he readied his SMG. "They're just blanks anyway! Shoot 'em all up! Hahaha!"

[Plunk].

The sound of the mortars being launched rang out, and the furthest soldier ahead, as well as six of his teammates had barely time to comprehend the sight before the rounds touched ground and went off. The blue flames of the Ragnite within the explosives burned most of their bodies, leaving barely an identifiable trace behind, save for a shrapnel-torn, cauterized arm or leg.

"Wh-what the he—" Another one was shot right through the skull, the insides of his head splattering all over the cold dirt as he tried to find some cover.

Carson could only look on in horror, but he managed to just narrowly avoid meeting the same fate. The Shocktrooper hid behind a tree and watched as another one of his "teammates", a blond Sniper, try to aim over with his rifle, looking calm and almost sociopathic, before getting sniped himself right through his scope.

He saw four of them manage to regroup, to try and go flank the enemies… But then, he saw a man from the enemy side, moving almost like an animal on all fours, leap forward and slash one of their throats out with a bayonet. Growling, he stuck the blade through a second, then kicked the third, a Shocktrooper, and wrested his gun from him to kill both him and his Engineer comrade.

Carson then turned to find someone else approaching him, someone on his side who he'd seen as they were arriving. He had black matted hair, and looked like the sort of soldier who saw frontline action, or even action behind enemy lines. "H-hey!" Carson said to him, "This isn't just an exercise! They're really shooting at us!"

"If we stay here, we're dead." The other soldier replied, somewhat stoically. Carson started to recognize him as a fellow veteran. "Steel" Roy Falenas. A man reputed to have wiped out twenty Imperial troops without a single combat injury. Only some damage from overtaxing his body. The story may have been exaggerated, but in either case, the soldier saw that this would be someone to listen to. "We'll go around and break through." The man—a Shocktrooper himself—started to run, and Carson went right after him.

They came upon three enemies, and immediately sprayed their SMGs, filling their bodies with bullets, one of them getting shot through the head. They hadn't the time to scream or report anything to their comrades before they hit the floor. Roy picked up one of their weapons and kept on moving, finding cover behind a tree, with Pailsen's compound overlooking them nearby.

As they kept moving, they saw some lights on ahead of them turn on... Lanterns that glowed in the distance as if they were apparitions...

-SHIFT-

Major Leeman, one of Pailsen's subordinate combat commanders, whom looked much like the man himself, but with a rounder, stricter face, stood at an observational position at a safe distance from the battlefield that was currently being used as the proving ground for the candidates. He listened to the reports of the nearby Scouts who were watching the affair. The Major tapped his commander's crop against his gloved palm, with a neutral, and yet still not impressed expression.

"Numbers 1, 3, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 17, 18, killed in action. Number 8, incapacitated. Number 4, killed in action."

Another scout overrode the report. "Numbers 5 and 21 nearly moved out of the zone. Should we stop them?"

Leeman adjusted his cap with the crop at this, now looking a bit intrigued by this report.

-SHIFT-

Paragon drove her Warpick straight through Recruit #4's heart, not bothering to take a look at his horrified face. Her lantern was on, to help with that effect. As soon as the Perfect Soldier was sure he was dead, she removed the now-bloodied weapon and moved on, his entrails still attached to it. Then she heard the sound of an SMG firing in her direction, and turned around, putting up her shield to block them. A blond Shocktrooper and a black-haired Shocktrooper. Paragon immediately ran toward them, with far more speed and agility than should be expected of an ordinary Armored Tech, and bounded so that she might reach them quickly. But, much to her surprise, they both rolled out of the way and shot at her once again. It was only because of her Ragnium-enhanced reflexes that she could block that as well. "Two over here." She said on the radio, aiming to get some assistance.

Truth be told, she was pleased. Even as she jumped back to dodge a grenade that the black-haired man threw, she saw worthy candidates before her. Two men who would survive Pailsen's cannibalism. This brutal, real battle meant to sift out those without ability. At the same time, though, she was a bit worried about what the Doctor might think. That she could not beat two simple men without going over combat capacity. With that in mind, and after the smoke from the grenade cleared—

She was shoulder-charged by the other one from the side, but gave a kick so that she might knock him away. "Don't forget about me!" The blond one who had hit her so bravely taunted her, even as she swung her Warpick. Though the fear was clear in his eyes, it did not override him. He rolled to the side and let the weapon get stuck in the ground. Paragon would have thrown her shield in response to that, but the other one simply would. Not. Give. Up. Shooting her. …Not until he had to reload. But then, this one was right in front of her, and she was forced to dodge to the side when he fired his SMG—with speed enough to completely surprise him, and still holding her shield. At this, he threw some dirt into her eyes, and immediately ran off while she tried to clear her vision, the "click" of his empty clip being heard while he tried to distract her. Once Paragon could see again, she moved to finish off the rest… Now severely disappointed in herself.

But then the signal ran out. The session was over. Now was time for she and the survivors to return to base. Whoever those two men were before… They now inherited what the men they had killed lost: Pailsen's attention.

I hope you enjoyed that little session! Disclaimers:

I own, so far, only Morgan, Carson, Larry, and Roy.

James London property of Turtler

Katarina, Eclaire, and Paragon property of Dr. Evil

Zamuel and that crying girl property of Saint-Zaby

Miles and Samantha property of RedShocktrooper

Colonel Yoran Pailsen, Major Leeman, the term "Perfect Soldier", and the cannibalism exercise property of Sunrise Inc.