Ok! Thankies go to: Yunie, Aave, Snowy Fox, orlandobloomfn, and hellmouth2.

This ficcie is gonna be dark, ya'll. (as if you couldn't tell already) I got all addicted to DA this weekend, and this is the only story I could concentrate on. (bangs head on desk)- I left "Studying the Unloved" at home! I wanted to update that one next, but... argh. I'll get it this weekend.

Anyway. Yeah. Thanks for comin' back! Enjoy.

Erol is coming? Augh. That Hora-Quan drisch pile.

The Krimzon Guards threw the boy onto the plastic lined mattress. His limp arms splayed out, knocking the bedside equipment over. Taetra Müssala scoffed and rubbed one black hand across her forehead. Her metalthorn bracelets clinked together. "When's the Baron importing the order I gave to him?" She clicked her Ts with a thick Sicklian accent.

One saluted. "Don't know, Taetra ma'am."

Of course you don't know. That fool probably hasn't put it in yet.

Her comm crackled again. "Dump 32 immediately?"

"No. See if you can get any eco out of her from the Squeezer." Müssala flicked the electronic Experiment-Classified File on and impatiently waited for clearance.

"Righty. Wish I could squeeze those-" The comm died as Slitter and the body of Number 32 entered the freight elevator.

"Idiot," muttered Müssala. She studied the blue screen and its overly polite ID prompts. The ECF ran through dozens of files before creating a new one, Experiment #75.

"You need us anymore, ma'am?"

Müssala turned, gnashing her teeth. "Call me ma'am one more time, and I'll cut your chodeiz off with a salt knife. You hear me?" She kicked the fallen IV stand with her left foot. The metal pole bent on impact and screamed across the steel floor, shooting sparks.

The Guards glanced at each other, shrugged, and left. Müssala hissed as the door shut behind them. "Natz chodeiz-vackters!" She yanked her slit shirt in irritation, metal threads splitting the lab light. The flat screen in her hand beeped. "Shut up." She stomped back over to the boy- stomp CLANG stomp CLANG.

Müssala bent over the unconscious figure and pulled one of his eyelids up. A glazed blue orb stared back. His slick forehead was bruised and blood had dried in streaks through his blonde hair.

She chuckled. "Praxis thinks you're a special one," she said, eyeing his facial bruises. "I can tell you are. Idiots." She set down the ECF screen and slapped his face. He whimpered. "Nice, firm white skin you got, boy-o. Don't come like you where I'm from. Nu-uh." The blue of his eye rolled up and his lids closed. "No name, no voice." She laughed again, an icy sound. She pulled restraints over his arms and secured them to the bed. "I'll have you screaming 'for the night's out."

The door slid open and to Müssala's extreme annoyance, the commander of the KG strode in.

"Praxis imports the very best from Sickle and we're on the seventy-fifth subject?" Erol pointed to the boy. Coffee sloshed out of the cup he held.

Müssala's black eyes flashed. "It's not me you have the problem with." She locked restraints around the boy's ankles. "These subjects lack the necessary qualities."

Erol looked at her over the rim of his cup. "I see. It's not your fault your experiments fail. It's always the equipment, or the subjects, or the laboratory assistants."

"It is the equipment!"

"Of course." Erol rolled his eyes. "But what you don't realize, Taetra, is that each one of these failures costs precious eco. There is only so much in the ground!"

Müssala glared. "This boy is different." She pulled her hair back. It shimmered reddish black in the humming lab lights. "He will be the one. You will see."

"Really? You've been nothing but trouble to the Dark Warrior Program," hissed Erol. "You've repeatedly overdone treatments and falsified reports." He glanced around the lab. "How did you secure your passage here, anyway?"

Müssala ignored him. "You don't have the right equipment for this one, and I'm sick of these idiots barging in at all hours of the night." She gestured to the door, where two Guards stood. "They-"

"Taetra Müssala, this is Slitter."

She snatched her comm. "Not now!"

"Number 32 left a nasty stain in the Squeezer and yielded fifteen cubic centistandards of eco. Permission to take it home?"

"Denied!" Müssala slammed the comm off. She rubbed her necklace between her fingers, hurling mental curses in Erol's direction.

The commander snorted and finished his coffee. "I'm just waiting now, Taetra. You knew it was only a matter of time before Praxis terminated you. I told him today, 'if that woman screws up one more time, I'll beat her in Solitary Confinement myself.' And do you know what he did? He laughed. 'You'd like that, wouldn't you, Erol?'" The commander paused. Müssala narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. "He has an announcement for you." Erol chuckled. "Yes. Once you're gone, I will be the Director of the Dark Warrior Program."

Müssala's metal-laced teeth glittered. "You will never have this program. You are too arrogant. You know nothing of dark eco!"

"I've worked with it-"

"But I've lived it!" Müssala approached the KG, her heavily beaded skirt swishing, "breathed it! Worshipped it! Made sacrifices to it!"

"Your primitive voodoo means nothing!" snapped Erol.

Müssala swore at him in Sicklian, waving her hands in an elaborate curse. "Your death will be great! An exploding poison, a scaring pain! You will die from Darkness itself!"

"Tsk, tsk." Erol looked bored. "Don't you want to hear what the Baron has to say?"

The Taetra finished her curse with a longevity spell and looked at him crisply. "What did Praxis say?"

Erol pulled an official document from his chest plate. "Experiment # 75 is your last. If he does not survive the Dark Warrior Program and become the Baron's ultimate weapon, you will be terminated."

Müssala breathed in sharply.

"But I have a little proposition for you," said Erol, stepping forward. "I see what the Baron doesn't. I know how much you enjoy your work. I recognize your talent for organizing and improving on our methods." He studied his nails nonchalantly. "If, given your past history of failure, you'd rather not bet your life on this subject, step down now. Tell the Baron to make me Director. I'll let you work beneath me. There's no need to kill anyone."

"Praxis won't terminate me," she whispered fiercely. "He would not dare."

"You can take my offer or chance your life on this boy." He waved vaguely at the bed.

"Never." She spat on the floor. "I would never work under you."

"Really? I beg you to reconsider." Erol grabbed her arm, thumbing her tribal scars. "So textured," he said. Müssala gritted her teeth. "We're not so different," his fingers touched her neck, her chin. "I know your language. Pleasure from pain." His voice was hoarse. "See?" He pressed against her. "Vackt me-"

She snatched his hand and twisted it. Erol screamed. "You better not be touchin' a Taetra like that!" She crushed his fingers. "I don't care what rank you hold, you yellow-spandexed bastard! I ain't a Doxy. Touch me again," she let go, "and you'll be sorrier than that boy."

The two Guards ran over, holding their guns up. Erol gasped and his fingers cracked as he opened his hand. "You- you," he stuttered. "You'll regret that, witch," he spat.

She snarled and stepped forward. The Guards powered up their guns.

"Don't fire." Wincing, Erol curled his fingers and shook his fist in her face. "Another attack like that and I'll have you roasting over a spit. The Baron's watching, woman. He wants results." His pained eyes flickered over to the bed. "You better hope that one's different."

Can you tell I don't like Erol? Heheh. Please review! Thank you!