Editors Note: Chapter Eight is up and running! Quite a bit is revealed here, but not too much. Please R&R to tell me if i'm doing anything stupid.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't execute you on the spot, soldier! Why isn't the experimental weapon back in our hands yet?"

The cowering captain stared up at the man in front of him in terror. To say that Dr. Blaine was angry would be the understatement of the year. He reminded the captain of an enraged Propagator he had once seen.

"S-sir," he stammered, "We didn't expect…didn't expect the weapon to refuse and retaliate. It brutally slaughtered ten of my men, including our commanding officer."

"Excuses, excuses!" Dr. Blaine roared, "Do you have any idea how long I spent working on that thing? Twenty years of research, fund raising and experimentation. I will not let that all be in vain. Let me make myself clear, Captain. I am giving you one more chance to return the weapon to me. That's all. And if you fail…" He trailed off, a murderous look on his face.

He stormed off, muttering furiously to himself. It was bad enough that the weapon had malfunctioned, but what if it developed feelings? Or a will of its own? Such things would be hard to erase. It had been the most successful experiment so far. But it had also been the most human.

Dr. Blaine was a tall, heavily built man with flaming red hair and an equally fiery temper. He lived only for his work, and he enjoyed it immensely. The only clothes anyone had ever seen him wear was his lab coat, and whilst the other workers at Origin Station went home at weekends, he remained behind to watch over the experiments.

The Doctor sighed. It looked like he would have to resort to Plan B, since the direct approach had failed. His walk had brought him to a massive steel blast door with numerous locks and security devices. He reached into his pocket, searching for something. Finding what he was looking for, he drew out a large silver card key and swiped it through the device at the side of the door.

It slowly hissed open. Inside was a room lined with glowing tubes, all focusing into a central pillar. Floating inside was a man with spiky blonde hair. The Doctor walked over to a control panel and looked at the tube. The nameplate above the pillar clearly read:

Experiment 1430

Name: Cloud

"Maybe now I can put this failure to some use…" Dr. Blaine whispered as he hit a button marked 'Emergency Release'.

"I don't see what the fuss is all about." Gale stated moodily as Dr. Kadowaki removed yet another bullet from his battered body. He didn't flinch as the doctor carefully pulled the round out with a small, wet popping sound.

"The fuss is about how you survived all this. Since you've arrived here, I've had to remove a total of forty-one bullets from you. And yet, whenever I give you an MRI scan, it shows there to be no damage to your internal organs."

"…I don't get it." He said. He looked down at his bare midsection, noticing how whenever Dr. Kadowaki removed a bullet, the wound behind it immediately healed over. The same was true for the stab wounds.

"Nobody does." She replied with a sigh.

"If that's the last of them, can I go now? Or am I still a prisoner?" He asked with a crooked smile.

"We both know that if you wanted to escape, we couldn't stop you." She replied with another sigh as he jumped down from the hospital bed he had been lying on. He needed answers to some of these questions, and he intended to find out sooner rather than later.

Storm turned the corner just in time to see Gale leaving the infirmary. She stopped suddenly, watching as the tall, winged boy strode away from her towards the library. She hesitated, wondering if she should follow him. On one hand, he had tried to kill her earlier. On the other hand, he had also saved their lives. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She turned and saw Squall standing there.

"Storm…what are you doing here? You know he's dangerous." He said, his brow furrowed.

"I was on my way to my room, that's all." She replied. It was true; she had been going to clean her gunblade off.

"Well, just be sure to stay away from him. He's dangerous and it would break my heart if anything were to happen to you." Squall said, placing his hand on her shoulder. Storm looked up at him and smiled.

"Don't worry. I'll stay away from him." She assured him, turning away and hurrying towards her room.

Like I'd follow someone who tried to kill me, she thought to herself sarcastically. The whole idea seemed stupid now, and besides, she didn't want her father to worry. Storm approached her room, fumbling with the door key as she did so. She felt strange; part of her still wanted to go back and tail him.

Behind her, Squall stood still for a moment, then hurried off after Gale's retreating form. Something that powerful should not be allowed to wander around the Garden freely. He was glad he had caught Storm before she could do anything stupid.

The powers of the ancient sorcerer tribes were varied and great. In eons past, they were a peaceful and wise people. Everything changed in the ancient Trabia Wars, however, as thousands of sorcerers –

"Nope." Gale said to himself, closing another book and standing up so he could reach up to replace it. He had been in the library for half an hour and had not found a single scrap of information that could tell him what he was. His snow-white wings twitched in irritation as he sat down on the floor, rubbing his temples and muttering under his breath.
Out of sheer irritation, he pulled a random book out of the shelf in front of him and opened it to a random page. Without much hope, he began to read.

…is detailed below.

Angel Wing

Angel wing is the sorcerer's last weapon. It focuses all the magic the body contains, multiplying it a thousand fold. However, this power comes at the cost of the sorcerer's will, which is overpowered for a brief period. Thus, the sorcerer/sorceress loses control over their own body, often resulting in total devastation. If this phenomenon could be controlled, it would be the most deadly weapon in the history of the world.

Gale slowly closed the book. Could it be…? He craned his neck over to stare at his wings. Angel Wing…his white wings…the assassins…his lack of memory…the girl he had randomly and senselessly attacked…all of them were linked somehow.

"This is most disturbing…" He said to himself aloud. From the way everyone in the library had suddenly left when he arrived, he was on his own for now. At least, he thought he was.

Squall sat behind a bookcase, listening to Gale talking to himself. Thinking, he questioned himself as to how on earth this murderous being had got here. It had attacked his daughter. The old Squall would have whipped out his gunblade and torn him to pieces for even thinking about such a thing. Then he realised the ultimate truth.

He felt sorry for him.