Summary: The year is 2546, and the advances in science have been numerous, but when the offspring of the Knights of the Round are cloned it is truly great. Trained to hunt and kill for the government, what would happen if they were pissed off?

Disclaimer: I don't own the movie or the legend, just a few of the characters and what happens in this fic.

Chapter I—Cold Hands

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The sounds were distant, abstract, run together to make strange reverberations through there small world, echoing forever in all directions.

Strange shapes collided and vibrated, sliding around in there field of vision, the sounds of rough contact and more, stranger sounds bouncing about in there small world. They all seemed to be regarding something in front of them, but what was it? They couldn't tell.

Then another, stranger sound echoed through their world and things slowly got colder, and colder. Starting at the top and coursing downward, until all of them lay curled up and cold.

The shapes became people, robed in white, light reflecting off a few of their spectacles, they stared, wide eyed, jaws slack. Then, from behind, came a rough warmness that was pulled about them, and they were dragged to their feet, heads swimming, legs wobbly beneath them.

There were eight in all, males and females, standing wrapped in wool blankets, supported by orderlies. One of the white robed people strode across the expanse between him and the eight, heels clicking on the hard floor.

He stopped at the first, blessed silence filling the room, then his voice booming in all of their heads "How do you feel."

The first was a girl, a simple piece of clothe wrapped around her somewhat ample chest, and between her legs. Long, unruly black hair—made worse by the wet residue of the cloning tube, looked up at him, lost and confused.

A cold hand landed on her shoulder and she shuddered, trying to break the contact were her shoulder burned. But it only worsened and she finally stopped, the burn subsiding. "How do you feel?" she was asked again.

She looked at him and finally comprehended what he had said and fumbled with the words and finally stuttered "Like shit." A grin splitting the mans face. A low chuckled had him moving on to similar answers from the eight of them.

He stepped back and checked the clip board that was handed to him, cold hands flipping through the pages of names and abilities. They were all accounted for: Roslynn daughter of Arthur; Dante son of Lancelot; Winter and Vergil twins of Tristan; Black son of Galahad; Rose daughter of Gawain; Alex son of Dahgonie; Hope daughter of Bors.

It was a truly momentous day for science.

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