The children almost broken by the world become the adults most likely to change it.

~Frank Warren

Yao sat in total darkness, seeing nothing, sensing nothing, remembering the first man he had ever killed. Yao had been a child, only eleven years old, younger than Xiang Gang—no. Mustn't think of Xiang.

Only eleven, and had been upstairs asleep. There was no adult in China who hadn't remembered those years, which they referred to as the Terror, during which the Federation—still in its early formation stages- had invaded and taken over the capital. Their presence, while it eventually brought a new type of stability to the region, was preceded by non-discriminatory looting, murders and chaos, much of it brought on by Federation mercenaries. That night it was their turn.

There was a bone-chilling crash at the door, the scream of Yao's stepmother, and the shrieking of small Wan as she woke up across the small room from him. Yao did not have to wonder what was happening. Despite his young age, such things could not be kept concealed from him, and he had seen the corpses shredded by shrapnel and strewn across the streets, had witnessed the stores and houses gutted out by fire as red as blood. Weeks prior, his father had taught Yao where the hunting-gun was kept, and how to aim it true.

Downstairs, Yao's stepmother would not stop screaming. Yao silently stole into his parents' bedroom and removed the hunting gun from its hiding place. He loaded it carefully as the muffled screams went on and on, and waited patiently until he heard a set of boot-clad footsteps stomp up the stairs. He knew he had only one shot.

The soldier paused at the top of the stairs. Yao felt no anxiety, had no second thoughts at what he was about to do. He pushed the door open and fired. The recoil of the weapon knocked his small body down. When he got to his feet again, the man was gone from his sight, having tumbled down the stairs. Still, his heightened senses didn't leave him. Yao loaded again, and crept cautiously to the top of the staircase. At the bottom, two more soldiers were kneeling over the body, and at that moment, both glanced up. If Yao had hesitated, they would have surely fired first and killed him—these were trained mercenaries with weapons that were much faster, state-of-the-art. But Yao did not hesitate. He fired again, and this time held his ground against the recoil, watching as the two men dropped from the explosion as the shell hit one man in the chest and blew straight through the other behind him.

Yao had no idea how he would be able to get down the stairs under fire to finish off the rest, but he intended to try. It turned out he didn't need to. His father was being held, forced to watch as the lead soldier was raping his wife. When three of the mercenaries were suddenly dead, Yao's father immediately told the other three, "You haven't got a chance. There's four of them upstairs and another dozen outside."

They believed him, and this was during the Terror, so they slit his throat, and stabbed Yao's stepmother five times. They left the ravaged house to return to their squad unit, or to another family's house, or to—Yao's parents died even as they fled. That night, something inherent changed in Yao. At eleven years old, he arranged for the proper burial of his parents, and, penniless after the funeral, made arrangements for Wan to be sent away to live with far-off relatives—despite numerous loud and desperate protests- for her own safety. The following morning he discovered another house that had been randomly attacked, its contents ransacked, its owners murdered, and their seven-year-old son hiding in the closet, so completely terrified that he refused to leave the space even after being discovered. That boy was Xiang Gang.

A few months later, a member of the then-burgeoning Resistance—Ivan- had found him and Xiang in a shelter, and recruited him. By the age of fifteen, Yao had helped organize a strong resisting unit that had forced the Federation forces to accept key negotiations and treaties, albeit under-the-table, to eliminate the violence and marauding on their side. Over the next few years, Yao and other members of the Resistance, almost all of whom had similar pasts which mirrored his, showed the Federation that they had the power and the will to enforce these treaties from their place in the shadows.

Yet in the moments when he first ran downstairs and saw his father spouting blood through his slashed throat, saw the three smoking corpses, saw his mother lying on the floor with a knife through her ribs, he had felt an incredible agony that had powered all his actions ever since. Even remembering that night left him sweating, more than a decade later. And at first it had been hate that had propelled him, forced him to brutally take out Federation spies who had crossed his path and who had been intent on stopping him, brought Yao to infiltrate their headquarters directly and do whatever the hell it took to get to their weakest spots and stab them there.

But somewhere along the way, the hate left him. Perhaps it was naturally gradual, as the night of death faded into memory and he began instead to shoulder the responsibility of caring for a young, choppy-haired boy with jewel-like eyes, who depended on him for food, shelter, love, and protection. The survival and coming-of-age of Wan, who grew into a tough, cold-mannered young woman that eventually made it back home to Beijing, had also made his goals change. Yao was no longer out to punish the wicked and the unjust, as he had once thought his mission in life to be. Now he focused on helping the Resistance establish a balance of power with the current Federation, a means of peace throughout the nation, to protect mankind from mankind—even though it would paradoxically require more spying and warring to force these quarreling governments to do so.

I did this so that no other boy would ever have to stand there tonight with blood on his hands, knowing his loved ones are never returning home.

And yet he had not done well enough. Here he was, one of the Resistance's most valuable spies, kidnapped, drugged, blindfolded, bound to a chair, his hands manacled behind his back and held exactly twenty centimeters apart. The Federation was not kind towards spies and traitors. But he wasn't frightened of torture—he had acquired so many scars and wounds throughout the years of fighting the Federation that he knew he could handle pain reasonably well. It was the thought of Xiang Gang, of Wan, who would be wondering, in the next few hours, why their big brother wasn't home yet.

Kiku.

He felt his eyes moisten behind the blindfold.

"Are you awake?" he heard a voice ask him.

"Who are you?" Yao demanded in a hollow voice.

He heard the voice smirk. "Watch how you talk to free men, lovely." Suddenly the blindfold was ripped off. Yao blinked and focused on a tall man, with a bearded chin, who looked to be a sergeant of some kind, someone of high ranking. He didn't recognize him at all. Then again, it wasn't as though he was familiar with every Federation face.

And yet…

"What do you want with me?" Yao asked. The room was chilled and he shuddered—they had stripped him naked.

"We've been following you for a while," the man said by way of replying, taking out a key from his pocket. Yao flinched as the man stood up, circling him like a wolf, slinking around behind him. "You first piqued my interest about a month ago, when I attended one of your shows at the Federation headquarters recreation hall. You sent a bouquet of orange peonies as a thank-you gift to the Federation officers in charge of the hall."

Yao forced his bleary mind to focus, to concentrate. He swallowed.

"That's right," the man said, his mouth suddenly next to Yao's ear. "I am aware that those peonies were bugged. I am also aware that you sent your little brother to deliver them. You do good work for the Resistance. You're crucial to their operations, you know that, Wang Yao?"

Yao cried out as the man seized him in a headlock. With his free hand, he started unlocking Yao's handcuffs. "My men know where you live. They know that you've been seeing that English officer."

"What do you want?" Yao growled, nearly choking on the arm across his throat.

"You're to work for us now." As the man released him, Yao rubbed his neck, staring up at him in astonishment.

"You're not Federation," Yao finally said, his eyes widening, his growing suspicion reaching panicked levels. He knew who had him now.

His captor's face was darkening into a lecherous expression. "In the meantime," he was saying, "you're to stay in my chambers. I must admit, after hearing about you and that English… you've aroused my curiosity."

Yao leapt to his feet, but the drugs in his system had made his limbs weak and useless, and he collapsed easily. The man picked him up and threw him forcefully to the ground, his head slamming into the tiles. With his heel, the man rolled Yao onto his back and placed his boot on top of Yao's Adam's apple. "The Resistance's loss is the Circle's gain, and the Circle's gain is this nation's gain. War is so expensive," he grinned toothily here, bending and staring down into Yao's golden pupils. As the Chinese boy twisted and growled, the brute increased the pressure on his windpipe. "Why not just declare peace and get it over with? We won't force anyone to go to war for us. The Circle only wants complete freedoms for all people."

From the floor, Yao burst into laughter. The man's brow furrowed as Yao lapsed into a gratingly sarcastic tone. "'Complete freedom for the people?' How on earth will you feed them? You seriously believe that in destroying the current governments, without a solid and feasible plan for the future, the nation won't end up in an even worse state than before?" Yao turned his head to the side as though to spit. "You don't care about the people at all."

"And how are YOU, or the Federation for that matter, helping them?" The man pushed his face merely a few inches from Yao's level on the floor. "You're harming them by helping them. We let nature run its course."

"Wait a minute! Humans DO need to be regulated. Haven't you ever read 'Lord of the Flies'? AACK!"

The man bared his teeth as he picked up the Chinese boy by his bruised throat and threw him, back-first, into one of the walls. "You won't be laughing at us for very long, brat. This first week will serve as your re-education period."

"My men will be looking for—" Yao's voice was cut off by a giant palm covering his mouth.

"Your organization will have disavowed you by now. If you even think about going anywhere, I'll bring your little brother here and beat him to death in front of you. Now," the man was bringing his face closer to Yao's bruised neck, "hold still, or you'll pay dearly for it."

Yao closed his eyes and attempted to block out what was happening, tried to desensitize himself to the hands groping at his backside and lifting him up, rubbing his bare skin. Kiku, his mind silently cried, but that thought was lost as he felt something huge and unbelievably painful forcibly penetrating him, and immediately he lost consciousness.

Temple of Heaven Complex

"Wan, have you heard at all from Yao today?" Wan turned her head and shook it worriedly. Xiang Gang kept tapping the side of his cell against his thigh and staring off into the sunset. He was biting his lip.

"He's probably all right, Xiang," Wan said, reaching out for his hand and squeezing it. At that moment, a hazy figure materialized in the horizon.

"Yao?" Xiang Gang leapt to his feet. He ran several meters towards the figure, and then skidded to a halt. Wan squinted her eyes, then widened them in alarm.

About twenty yards away, the hazy figure stopped in its tracks. It dissolved and revealed itself to be actually comprised of two men, both dressed in dark trench coats, one trailing the footsteps of the other. The leader looked Xiang and Wan up and down as he approached them. He smiled and licked his lips.

Resistance HQ

"We are close to tracking down his real name, but the Head of the Circle organization goes by the moniker 'General Winter.' He's fully intent on wiping us out, and also, I believe, fully intent on making sure no one ever takes our places—no other government, no other 'resistance.'"

Ivan was silent. Ludwig didn't meet his eyes as he paused before resuming.

"Don't you see, Ivan. The new Circle is the Federation's current target. It was all along, for the past few months. It was never us."

Ivan finally opened his mouth. "What are you trying to say, Ludwig? Why haven't we started targeting him as well?"

The German smiled sadly. A prickle of fear ran down Ivan's spine as he slowly comprehended. "You have."

"Yao was the bait."

Ludwig didn't fight back as Ivan gathered up his shirtfront, his hands shaking so hard that the German's entire body was slightly trembling.

"Where is he?" Ivan's voice had risen barely below shout-level.

"He must still be alive. I don't know. He has been captured by Circle. I was informed a few hours ago, on the phone."

"Then where is he now? Did you put a bug on him?"

"They must have found it and gotten rid of it. But it doesn't matter. We'll get rid of the Head of Circle."

"How?" Ivan's neck veins were bulging.

"Hey there, little lady," the leader smirked at Wan. "It's a beautiful night tonight, isn't it?"

"Who are you?" she demanded.

The leader held up his hands. "Calm down. We're just out here for a stroll. You know," the leader lifted one corner of his coat, revealing a gun in its holster, which gleamed in the moonlight, "I have always wanted to visit the Temple of Heaven, here in China. Why don't you give me a tour?"

Xiang came up behind her. "I smell a rat," he said. "Hello there, rat."

"That's the kid," the other man spoke up behind the leader, who immediately stepped forward as though to seize Xiang. Wan was quicker and planted herself directly in front of the boy, intercepting him.

"Do we need to get both of them?" the leader directed towards his partner.

"I don't think it matters whether we bring back one, or both. That kid's his brother for sure, though." The partner was unfolding something that resembled a dark garbage sack. "Just grab him—the boss needs insurance that the Chinese spy follows his orders now."

"Where is Yao?" Wan demanded at once, her rough voice containing almost as much authority as her elder brother's.

"I'll tell you," the leader turned back to Wan. "You need to get out of the way, though. Or I'll march on back to where we're holding him, and stick my dick into your pretty big brother."

"That's nice. He's like your grandpa's age, you know?" Wan smiled crookedly, flexing a fist. "You like to go around having sex with senior citizens in the old folks' home, to get your kicks? Fucking sicko."

The leader's right hand immediately went to the holster on his belt.

"No!" Xiang cried.

The leader cocked his pistol and fired.

Xiang's screaming tore at her eardrums. The sounds were agonizing, more animal than human. Wan lifted her head.

The bullet had never hit her. She turned and gasped—the leader was lying, face-down on the ground, in a steadily-growing pool of his own blood. Raising her arms, she glimpsed a single neat bullet hole in the back of his skull.

Senses blazing, she scanned the field and spotted an Asian man, clad in a Federation uniform, pointing a gun squarely between the second attacker's eyes.

"Give me the address," the figure was saying.

"Officer Kiku Honda of the Federation."

Ivan let go of Ludwig at once. His strange violet eyes stared straight into Ludwig's sky blue ones. "That Japanese Federation officer is going to assassinate the Head of Circle? Why would he -?" Here Ivan paused. Sunk into a chair. "No. Not my Yao."

Ludwig massaged his throat. "Some time ago, Officer Alfred Jones approached me on behalf of his boss, and arranged a meeting with me. We made a deal. We both wanted to eliminate Circle, once and for all. Having Kiku and Yao fall in love made it easy."

"No, no, no."

"We were uncertain at first about whether it would work. We were aware Yao met the Japanese boy by chance a few weeks ago, during that typhoon. Arranging for them to work in a close, intimate vicinity at the central library under the pretense that Yao was serving as the English officer's translator, and confirming with Alfred that Kiku could indeed secure that miserable librarian job, propelled them into becoming relaxed and familiar with one another, and eventually forming a close romantic bond.

"We needn't have worried. It worked almost too well. Even I was starting to see that they care deeply for each other. It was crucial that we act fast—the euphoric feelings of new love are not permanent, and typically fade after several months. At this particular stage, Kiku's feelings for Yao and vice versa would be the strongest. Now that Yao is being held prisoner by Winter, Kiku will stop at nothing to get him back, and will undoubtedly be only too eager to fulfill his orders to assassinate the Head."

"What you're saying is… from almost the very beginning, the Federation and the Resistance planned to have Yao and Kiku fall in love, and use this to their advantage—in order to eliminate a common enemy."

They looked at each other.

That voice. A Japanese accent.

Wan and Xiang watched, open-mouthed, as the black-haired Federation officer kneed the other man in the chest. As the man wheezed and hunched, the officer delivered a sharp elbow to the small of the man's back. Xiang snapped out of it and dashed towards them. He leapt into the air, delivering a perfectly angled kick to the man's jaw. Their attacker tumbled to the ground. The Federation officer grabbed Xiang's arm.

"Stop. I need him alive."

"No. You don't." Trembling, Wan held out the man's cell, which had fallen from his belt onto the grass. She had already hacked and unlocked it. "I can trace this." She looked over the rim of the cell phone, towards the fallen attacker, her eyes brimming over with anger.

Kiku looked over at the body. His eyes had rolled back and his lips had flecks of foam; he was semiconscious.

"Who are you?" Xiang demanded at Kiku.

"Xiang," Wan breathed, "He's got Xiao Dou!" The panda, who had been stowed away under the roof of a small, abandoned shack at the edge of the field, emerged from hiding.

"A friend of Yao's," Kiku replied to Xiang, putting his arms around his panda's neck. He stopped, and withdrew them shakily, leaving some of the white parts of her fur spotted with blood from his hands. The panda sat on her plump haunches and leaned against his leg, as though trying to provide comfort to him.

"Yao's in trouble," Xiang said. "If you're Federation and you're on the lookout for him, then… who took him?" His eyes widened. "Don't tell me?..."

Kiku's eyes had darkened. "I think I know who might be able to help us find out. You're coming with me to Federation headquarters."

"Ivan. It killed me to do that to Yao." Despite his words, Ludwig gave no outward indication that he wanted sympathy. "But ultimately, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"We're despicable," Ivan said softly. His hands, which only moments before had been wound around Ludwig's throat, were lying uselessly in his lap. "Our governments… we regard…we use spies as nothing more than expendable pawns in a dangerous, complex chess game."

"People in our occupation can't afford to fall in love, Ivan," Ludwig replied bluntly. "It only brings about the end of them." He started as he realized that tears were silently rolling down Ivan's face.

Balking for a moment, Ludwig tried to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, when a sudden realization dawned on him. He couldn't move.

"Yao…" Ivan whispered. He looked across the room at the cryptography tools lying on his desk, and closed his eyes.