Kuu, nothing depressing to prelude this chap. If you didn't know, then yes, I am back in aus. Let's never speak of it again uu

Chapter Four: A case of divine misconception

It happened around seven weeks later. It was unceremonious. It was quick. It was degrading.

He was sitting in a meeting, doing his best not to fall asleep as Dunbury rattled off the month's current problems in the agricultural sector. He did so in a bored sort of tone and a kind of malicious glee in his milky eyes that said 'I know you're bored. And I'm going to make sure you stay bored.' Prozen tried not to fidget. Across from him, he caught the eye of the elderly Hommelef, who looked just as bored, and was even sleepier than the warlord. They shared a simultaneous Moment, and then looked away; secretly embarrassed they'd been caught by the other staring at them. The fact of the matter was they were cold and civil enemies in a cold and civil war, and their battleground were the offices of commerce and parliament that littered the palace. If they'd been children, Hommelef would have been stealing Prozen's lunch money at morning tea, and then going back for seconds when the afternoon break rolled around. Prozen on the other hand, would be telling tall tales about his opponent and scrawling dirty pictures on Hommelef's notebooks.

In short, they hated each other.

But they shared common ground when it came to Dunbury.

They hated him too.

But when you're an adult, you can't do what your inner child wants to do. So, no matter how strong the urge to get up and yell abuse at the fat man was, it couldn't be done. But it didn't stop Prozen idly doodling on his notepad. He'd gotten into the habit of bringing one to each meeting, to look attentive and somewhat caring, even if he were not. He'd taken down the fundamental points, as outlined in the brief that was handed around, and was now planning on amusing himself.

So, after deciding that dozing in the afternoon sunlight that spilled onto the table and floor from the long thin windows was inappropriate, he realised that he could amuse himself better. He roughly scrawled Dunbury on the page, then the table and the people in crude representations. Then he inserted thoughts. He even included Minister Blair with his floozy of an assistant, Dinah, casually screwing on the table.

Then he heard the sniggering. Hardin was looking over his shoulder and peering at the one page comic that had formed around the words. Dunbury was impossibly fat, waving a walking stick, screwing up his face…and screaming in large block letters: I'm old! Listen to me damnit, I'm old and I think I'm important! Nursie! When's my sponge bath?!

Here it doesn't sound funny. But when you're bored, you're apt to find anything funny.

Casually, he went to turn the page over, catching Hommelef's eye. It was enough to say 'lookie'.

Hommelef did. He stared, his mouth open for a moment, then, twitching, he started to snigger. The only problem is that laughter is contagious. And as Hardin tried to stifle her chuckling (she did not giggle – girls giggled. Not uptight military personnel) over Prozen's shoulder, so too did Hommelef find it harder to stifle his own guffaw.

Blair, next to him, gawked at the picture too. But it wasn't Dunbury that was upsetting him, it was probably the 'I'm invincible!!!' comment beside his own caricature. He was obviously in disbelief that no one knew about his affair. It probably hadn't crossed his mind why no one sat in the chair just right of the door…

His face went red. Still, the mischief spread. Prozen took no notice of it, simply finding a fresh page and scrawling down a 'to do' list for the next day's activities, wondering vaguely what he'd make for dinner. He was exhausted, so maybe something simp-

"Minister Prozen?"

Thoughts faltered. He looked up.

The emperor smiled down at him. Emperor Gerhardt the second. Emperor Gerhardt, who didn't like being made a mockery of. and certainly didn't like half his staff turned into giggling idiots.

"What are you doing?"

Any smart answers fled. The 26 year old was no longer thinking like a 26 year old should. Instead, he felt miserably small. Oh yes, and four. He should be looking down at his shoes, as if the ground was very interesting, and yes, his cheeks were burning. It was like he'd wet himself in class or something.

His tongue went onto autopilot.

"I can explain."

Then there was a scream which was amazingly coincidental. It went on for a very long time, and was followed by the sound of someone firing a gun and obviously missing, because they didn't stop. Then the gun did stop, and someone else screamed. There was a roar.

Someone rather stupidly asked: "Are we under attack?"

Prozen watched, some secret part of him enjoying the sight of old fat men trying to find hiding places. Then he drew his gun from his belt-holster and trained it on the door, carefully calming his breathing and using his chair as a barrier. Whatever it was, it was powerful. The paper, the jokes, it all fled away. At his shoulder he felt Hardin's presence, the click of her own gun and the quiet grunt of approval.

I am with you sir

The door resisted the first slam. It resisted the second. But the ancient doors could not hold up against the third strike, and were opened, one side coming off its' hinges and falling unceremoniously to the tiled floor with an almighty clatter. The other creaked, rebounded off one of the huge iron pots that housed the incredibly ugly indoor palms that the previous emperor had been so fond of and no one could figure out how to get rid of, and slammed into the thing that had broken down the doors in the first place.

"Karma" He said out loud, and cursed himself for saying it.

Somewhere, someone snorted.

A guard was casually thrown past the open part of the door and landed with a yell. There were further footsteps, a metallic groaning noise, and a clatter as something metal collapsed and slumped to the floor, its' head in full view. Unbelievably, it was an organoid. Prozen mentally ran down his checklist of the ones he knew of, wondering for a brief moment what Raven thought he was playing at. But the boy wasn't playing at anything; he'd been sent deep into Republican territory and had been complaining last night over the phone that he couldn't find a decent bar of chocolate. Raven owned Shadow, and she was a black organoid. But this was not Shadow.

No, you moron. That's not a black organoid…that's gunmetal. That's Ambient.

His heart froze for a moment, and then thawed. Twitching his head once, he caught Hardin's attention. "Shoot to wound. Once he's down, knock him unconscious. Don't kill him, but remember he will kill you."

"Yes sir."

"Good girl."

More steps. Slow. Purposeful.

Measuring the sounds, as hollow as they were, and trying to filter them out of the rest of the racket he had to put up with, he wondered how Project Red had gotten loose. Alex apparently had a break through, but Prozen had seen no candidate list to speak of concerning potential surrogate mothers, nor any bad notes of how things weren't working. He'd thought that the experiment had failed or something, but if that were the case, how in the world did Red get out and what was he doing here?

His body jerked on instinct, and smoothly standing up he felt himself flanked by Hardin, but also by another of one of the younger (but still much older than Prozen himself) ministers, the one regarding defence, another former soldier. What was his name again? Claus?

Then Project Red came through, an absolute mess.

The Zoidian was dressed in hospital gear, and looked like something in his head had come apart and he was frothing at the brain. Blood spattered his clothing and from his elbows down there was just crimson and brown, no other colour whatsoever. The most horrible part was probably the fact that a lot of blood was around his mouth…splattered across his face. He was panting, struggling to breathe almost, and every time he breathed in you could see his teeth were stained red too.

Jeezus-H-Christ, he'd torn someone's throat out. With his teeth.

"FREEZE!" Claus roared. Old fool.

Red took no notice. His eyes darted around, looking for something but what, the minister thought, he couldn't say. Why was he here instead of going and escaping? Was he trying to take down the seat of government here or something? What was the point?

Then those mad eyes found what they were looking for, and trained straight on Prozen, loosing all their insanity. What was there was a cold anger, and that was somehow more frightening.

"You." How much hatred could be put into such a little word?

"OH GOD HE'S GOING TO KILL US ALL!!!"

Prozen twitched, wishing Blair would shut up. When he didn't, Prozen lost his temper and snarled back. "Shut up."

Surprisingly, Red had said the same thing.

Then they returned to their staring contest.

Hands clenched and unclenched, as if decided what to do. Then Red moved forward, his steps wary and slightly loathing, like he was approaching something he wanted to get away from as quick as possible.

Licking his lips, Prozen stepped forward, his gun still raised, Red in his sights. "Don't."

"You bastard."

"I don't want to shoot you." Came the cold reply. "Stand down. Now."

"No, you son of a bitch, I won't."

Prozen blanched, his eyes glittering with fury. "Don't insult my mother!"

Still, Red came closer. Prozen realised that not even shooting his kneecaps would work; he was determined to keep coming. But he held his ground - Prozen wasn't a coward, no way in hell. It wasn't until the muzzle of the gun met flesh, as a grisly hand lifted the gun and met Red's forehead in fact, that he realised he was in deep and was rapidly sinking.

"Shoot me you thieving motherfucker." His voice was so level. Almost calm.

"You will not use that language in front of me."

"I can and fucking will, asshole." Those eyes. Prozen had seen madmen in his time, but this one had gone through the hills of Wonderland and out the other side.

"Hello, Alice." He muttered, half to himself. "I don't want to kill you, do you understand me?"

"I don't care." Oh shit – jerking with revulsion, those blood encrusted hands cupped closer around Prozen's and went for the trigger. The copper smell of blood filled his nostrils, and Red bore his teeth in a feral snarl. "SHOOT ME!!"

Noise at the door. Prozen carefully felt around the grip, moving his fingers away from the trigger and protecting it by laying them flat against the rim of metal. His breath came in searing pants, like Red's, and he wondered if the Zoidian was trying to trick him. More noise. The organoid getting up. But instead of going for Prozen's throat as he expected it to, it started whining like a lost dog and carefully approached the pair.

There was a click to his right. Claus had regained his senses and had his gun against Red's temple. Red's eyes became slits of hate, and he turned, lightning fast, and knocked the stunned Claus away. The other minister was sent reeling, his gun sailing in the air just after discharging a single bullet that became lodged in the ceiling high above them.

Then Red turned back. "You." He said again. "Only you. Shoot me. Now. Make them stop."

A terrified wail from the door. The organoid slunk closer, body held close to the floor, it's sharp jaws clicking together in a rapid tek-tek-tek of worry. Begging with it's owner to stop. Begging Prozen to put the gun down.

Cute.

Prozen took a leap of faith. "Hardin." He rasped, and prayed she understood.

She'd been over his shoulder the entire time, watching and waiting for when she would be needed. Now she reached over him and causally flicked the gun's safety back on, her own gun never leaving the target. Red watched it all in disbelief and then howled, his eyes filling with silvery tears, and his breath hitching in his throat. The rage he'd been holding inside of him erupted and he threw himself at Prozen's lanky form, determined for a fight…but he didn't go very far. He took one step forward, his eyes widened, and then he doubled over.

Hurling his guts over Prozen's boots.

"Oh." Shocked, Prozen could only stare as he fought down his own nausea. Disgust and fear became pity as the Zoidian continued to retch and finally managed to regain control, then rolled to the side, breathing heavily and looking pale. His glassy eyes had a frightened look to them, coupled with hate and pain. "Oh dear…"

"Bloody hell." He heard Hardin mutter and she looked away, hand to mouth.

There were other voices all around him, but all Prozen could do was stare at the creature in front of him. And try not to look down either. There were things the Zoidian had ingested, that were clearly not for human consumption. Like someone's fingers. And that could only be…part of someone's voice box, maybe… "…urg."

"AAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!!! YOU KILLED HIM!!!"

The voice of Prozen enemy number one made the albino jerk and regain conscious control of his body. Looking up, he saw Alex run into the room over the bodies of the obviously dead soldiers, an arm bandaged and held to his chest, and a number of plasters over his face. There was blood on his lab uniform…Prozen felt something inside him twist.

"I'd worked so hard, done everything I had to, cared for him, cleaned him, fed him and now he's dead, and…oh my god is that vomit?"

"He's not dead and he's not a pet, Alex. He's in shock. He just killed three of the finest guards we have on site and had a face off with me. Then he threw up." Prozen glared at Alex, but found he really couldn't move. He just wanted out. Out now. So he could be sick too.

"So he's not dead?"

He was in no mood for niceties. Gritting his teeth, Prozen felt his entire body clench in hate. "No you idiot, but he asked me to kill him. What the hell happened?"

To his delight, he watched Alex realise that everyone was staring at him and possibly wondering the same thing. Moaning softly, he wrung his hands as the ministers of the Guylos cabinet and the emperor who oversaw them all turned their full attention to him.

"This had better be good." Came the growl from Claus, who had picked himself up and was vigorously rubbing his cheek with his free hand. Already a bruise was forming from Red's punch. "'Cos if it's not, I'm going to mop the floor with you. Those were my fucking men, you little lab rat."

"Oh gawd…"

"Ministers, maintain your dignity please. Doctor Shaums?" The rich voice of Gerhardt rolled out. He hadn't liked being dog-piled by his bodyguards, and much less by his ministers. His voice spoke volumes, mostly of how one was to be punished…

"Sire! Please! It was a lax in control!"

"I'll lax you, you little-"

"Prozen, stand down." The emperor dusted his robes off and carefully made his way through the overturned chairs and nudged Red with his boot. The Zoidian groaned and tried to crawl away but found his body refused to respond to him. "What happened?"

"A check up, my lord…and…he'd been so good, we thought we didn't have to muzzle him…" Alex shook. "He…he went mad, killed two doctors and maimed a third…bit the nurse's fingers off…tore…tore the guard's throat out with his teeth…"

Prozen felt numb as he watched them speak, and found his eyes drifting from Red to his organoid, who was standing and as stupefied at the conversation as he was. Check-up? Muzzle? "Sire, if I recall correctly, the subject lying at our feet was under my care and jurisdiction. I had specific orders based around him that he be kept happy and comfortable in his quarters until we needed his help on certain projects. Am I to understand that…Doctor…Shaums has been, for lack of a better word, poaching on my territory?"

Gerhardt snorted. "Gunther, sometimes I wonder about you. I only enlisted Shaums to hurry things along a bit…though the news is somewhat disturbing." Then, unbelievably, he turned back to Alex and sighed in a sort of exasperated way. "How much damage was done?"

"Ten are dead sir. A further seven are injured, one possibly fatal." Alex replied. "However, I am pleased to note that he waited until after the tests were done and everything was seen as being green."

Ambient whined again. Nudged Red. Getting no response made him crouch down beside the prone body and lay his head against his hip.

Gerhardt clapped his hands together. "Splendid! So it is confirmed?"

Green optic sensors regarded Prozen with a kind of pathetic worry.

"Confirmed and healthy. He's doing fine." Alex waved a hand at the mess. "And anything nasty in his system is now there, so we know he's going to be okay, until next check-up of course."

For a creature so prone to violence, Ambient made no move to attack the humans in front of him.

"Delightful. And how is he coping?"

Very odd.

"Going through all the stages, just as the little lady said."

Lady? Who was this lady they were talking about?

"Wonderful! Oh, I can't wait to see the results! Alex this truly is-"

Blow this. "Am I the only one here who's slightly disturbed by current events?" Prozen cut in, his voice dangerously quiet. Realising that not only was he being left out, he was not clued in to current situations, he was annoyed. Very annoyed. "A top secret project has escaped and has gone on a killing spree, and you're saying it's splendid. I don't think it's very splendid at all. And what's even worse, these boots of mine are ruined. You're getting me a new pair, Alex, I swear. And Sire, please, would you stop nudging him with your boot? What if it wears off, what if he goes for you?"

"That's a virtual impossibility." Alex said with a chirpy grin. It was extremely disconcerting to see him smiling like that, in his blood spattered glasses. Like everything was fine, and they were all about to go and play a nice game of cricket or something. "You see, Minister, you're his focus, seeing as he blames you for everything that's happened."

"What, that I woke him up? We're square on that, we have a nice working relationship. Admittedly I haven't been down recently, but I can't balance social life or lack of it with work seeing as the Rebels recently burnt three of our towns and managed to take a few military bases. What did I do to make him this mad? Mad enough to let me kill him?"

Alex and Gerhardt looked at each other.

They both wore the same grin.

"Shall I break the news, Alex?"

"Oh yes, sire!' Responded the doctor, though his eyes clearly showed he wanted to be that one.

The emperor clapped Prozen hard on the back and made him slip in the mess at his feet. With a wail he went down and landed in it, frozen in shock and disgust. Chortling like it was a grand old joke, the emperor grinned. "Congratulations, old boy." He said. "You're going to be a father!"

to be continued