LITTLE KRIT-TER

"The itsy bitsy, kiddy, went down the hallway floor!"

Krit felt heard the singing and smelled the garlic chicken breath from the days lunch before the guy came up to try and push him down the hallway, which just happened to incline toward a curve.

"Down went the fat boy, who managed to beat himself up!" Krit sing-songed, as he merely stepped away and 'forgot' to remove his leg in time, allowing the boys own momentum to trip and make him take a dive.

Krit allowed himself a momentary smile of satisfaction. The 'fat kid' was actually a chubby fifth grader who looked as if he ate too many Ding-Dongs and was now reverting to take their shape. This kid had taken to tormenting all the 'little people' and Krit had been his target as the smallest fourth grader in the school.

"Hey, you tripped me!" the boy cried, his eyes welling with tears, a few scrapes on his face and arms bleeding a little. His plump face was turning a motley red with the rise of his temper, pain, and embarrassment.

"No, I merely stepped aside to let you through," Krit shrugged as he continued on down the hall, passing the fuming bully.

"Don't walk away from me shrimp!" he screeched and heaved himself up with great effort in pursuit. "Hey! I'm not through with you!"

"Newsflash! I'm through with you," Krit whirled around and met the boy face-to-face, his eyes and face holding deadly warning.

Now, Alaric Ames wasn't that bright of a kid. Sure, he made decent grades, enough to pass, but he was your average elementary boy, more interested in farts, and jokes, and shoving people around than any great goal in life. But something inside him, some forgotten primal half abruptly screamed 'red alert!' as it picked up the non-verbal warning and held the boy in check.

"S-su-sure," Alaric muttered, scared of this little shrimp of a boy in front of him.

"We're not going to have this conversation ever again…right?"

Did he just growl? Alaric thought in panic, but he found himself nodding confirmation.

"R-ri-right, man. Hey, I was just messing with you."

"I'm giving you fair warning, since this is only the what…second week of school? Don't mess with me, capishe?"

"Yeah, yeah, man."

"Good," Krit held the boy's eyes for a few seconds longer, and then he turned around and left. Alaric Ames was left shaking and not even knowing that he had just peed his pants.


"Wow, Krit, you really put that ordinary in his place!" Conner, aka X5-303, exclaimed as the pair walked 'home' from school just two blocks away.

Krit gave a fond smile over at his companion, the smile tinged with bittersweet memories. Conner had been as big a surprise to him as he was to Conner. Apparently, one of Conner's unit mates in New York was X5-472, Krit's twin.

Funny thing is, Conner was the 'twin' of his brother Briac, one of the Lost Ones. So the two had developed a fast friendship, based upon shared brothers, started that night Conner or Con as he wanted to be known as, had watched Krit beat up the four idiots from Wyoming's Unit 15.

Briac had failed in the Tank, but it had been discovered later, that Briac had developed a blood clot in his lungs that had burst with the increased pressure from the Tank and holding his breath, causing him to deflate his lungs. Acting on instinct, he had tried to take another breath and inhaled a lungful of water instead.

That wasn't one of Krit's favorite memories, he had been right by Briac in the Tank, and he remembered the cloud of blood expelled as Briac hacked and spit out both fluids from his lungs. He lasted only a few agonizing moments later, and then hung there limply, his lifeless form held in place by the chains binding them to the bottom of the pool.

Briac's sightless gaze, staring blindly and with agony written in them, haunted Krit even to this day. Going to the Tank and into large, dark bodies of water were no longer fun for Krit, and he dreaded anything to do with it.

"It wasn't a big deal," he finally shrugged it off. "Besides, the guy wasn't all that bad. I do feel kinda sorry for him."

"What for?" Conner gave his friend a bewildered look.

"Dude, the guy freaking peed his pants there in the hallway! That's sick, and man, that is so embarrassing."

"He peed all over himself?" Con crowed in laughter.

"Yeah, he did," even Krit managed to grin at that.

"Man, what did you do? It looked like you just glared at him is all."

"I don't know…it almost felt like I was channeling my brother Zack when he gets into those dominant challenges with other Unit's commanding officers," Krit mused, thinking.

Now that he looked back, he realized that he had been very upset, over how he had been treated for his size and how he had wished he would stand up to that bully like Zack would have. He could have sworn he had felt Zack at his side, and that gave him the confidence to turn around, and face his tormentor.

"Really?"

Conner was intrigued, no doubt about it. Ever since Krit told him of the close bond he shared with his unit, whom he called his family, Conner had wanted to know more. Especially when Krit had talked of what he had experienced on the Separation Day, seeing his sister Max and the rest of the group, the echo of their hearts, the scent of pack, and the reassurance of loved ones. He wouldn't have really believed it if he hadn't of smelled the various scents of his pack lingering on him even after several hours for himself.

He was pretty tight with his group, but he could honestly never say he had thought of them as his family the way Krit and his obviously felt about each other. And the whole bloodletting ceremony…just the thought gave Conner chills of the good kind. A certain primal part of him found the thought…appealing. He wondered if the bloodletting had to be with a specific group, on a hunt with all the excitement and anticipation and focus, or if it could be with just someone you thought and cared enough about to bond yourself so completely with others.

"I wonder if since you're so completely bonded, that you'll start to exhibit traits from the others of your Pack."

"Say what?"

"Well, think about it. Before the Bloodletting…"

"Please don't call it that."

"Well, what else do you want me to call it?"

"I don't know," Krit sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But calling it…that makes it sound like some cultic ritual or something."

"I guess. But anyway…before you and your family sliced yourselves open and shared blood, were you ever this…dominant, before?"

"No," Krit drawled out thoughtfully, thinking back and analyzing his memories. "I was more of a follower, a good back up, support. I tended to try and avoid confrontation if possible unless absolutely necessary…like today. This guy's been hounding me for the two weeks of school and I finally got fed up and did something about it."

"But would you have gone about it in the way you did?"

"What?"

"Let me clarify. Would you have stopped, stared, and threatened this jerk in that manner or would you have found some other way to get your message across?"

"I would have found some other way," Krit admitted as they were walking up the porch steps to their home away from home.

"Hmm…I see. And who does this manner remind you most of, your commanding officer Zack right?"

"Yes. It's exactly the way that he's dealt with us and others in the past."

"471…303. You're back pretty early," Agent Austin DeMornay greeted the first of his charges to return.

"Yes, sir, we did not see fit to further expose ourselves to the school wide bullies and pricks anymore for today," Conner managed with a straight face.

Agent DeMornay barked a laugh, grinning, and then motioned upstairs in a casual dismissive gesture.

"Yes, well, wait a few more weeks and then beat the snot out of them, that'll fix that," the laid back handler grinned, and the two friends passed him on their way up.

"You know the drill!" he called up after them.

"Homework, chores, PT, debrief, sir!"

"That's right!"


The two were grinning at each other like idiots as they entered their room, tossing packs on Krit's bed by the door and kicking off shoes, flinging shirts, and changing into more casual clothing. Their school had a dress code, not a strict one, but jeans and a t-shirt were definitely unacceptable attire.

"Man, I feel better," Krit announced as he plopped himself stomach first on his bed, making it bounce, once he'd a pair of jeans and a tee on.

"Me, too." On the other side of the bed, Con mimicked him and the two spread their books open and worked with transgenic speed to complete their homework.

"It ever bother you that we already know all this stuff?" Con asked as they finished their assignments and put their books in their packs, hanging them up on the hook at the head of their beds.

"No, not really. What bothers me is how I'm going to keep from going stagnant from sheer boredom," Krit replied. "Alright, you have the downstairs, I'll take top, we meet in the middle and we don't have to hear it from the agents or the Unlucky Fifteen."

"You got it bro. See ya in fifteen."


Krit didn't pay any heed as the others came home, some of them had been held back by new friends and classmates, others purposely stalling so they wouldn't have to resume the mantel of transgenic and responsibility once they reached the safe house. He just did his work, scrubbing the bathrooms, vacuuming the carpet, and gathering up all the garbage bags on the top floor. The others would get to the windows and finer details, but for now he had about three hours before evening PT (physical training) and the time for debriefing all to himself. Well, to him and Conner that is.

"Hey, 471!"greeted X5-571, a foxy little dark, curly haired transgenic, smiling at him. Her eyes were dark and welcoming and Krit found himself grinning back, although a little strained.

"571…Roxanne," he addressed the sultry lass from Seattle. Ever since she set eyes on him, she'd been paying special attention to him, and Krit wasn't sure if it was because she liked him, or was trying to cause trouble between him and the other guys, one of which had taken a territorial liking to the little minx.

Either way, her attentions made him feel uncomfortable, not that it was all bad. It was just that something in the way she looked at him made him miss Syl and feel guilty he enjoyed looking at and being looked at by another female. He knew how he'd feel if Syl acted to another guy the way Roxanne was acting toward him. He'd pound the guy into the concrete and laugh all the way through gritted teeth.

"Where you going?" she purred, head cocking inquisitively. She stood just inside the doorway to the girls room on the opposite side of the hall and she looked pretty cute like that, big dark eyes peering soulfully into his own.

"With Conner."

"You always hang with Conner," she pouted, not difficult as her lips were full and already half pouting.

"And this is a problem to whom?" Krit raised an eyebrow, and then started for the stairs to beat a hasty retreat.

But one single-minded transgenic female was no quivering school bully. She came after him and cornered him on the landing, at the bend before the stairs led to the kitchen.

"It's a problem for me. One would think you didn't like me," she raised a hand and started to caress the hair that he had grown out fairly quickly.

"Don't," he jerked away to avoid her touch, somehow knowing that was wrong.

"Why not?" she frowned and broke his hold, reaching up and touching his hair, running her hands through the thickening waves.

"No," he choked out, angry and wanting nothing more than to have Syl there by his side. He somehow knew that her presence would be a deterrent to the determined vixen by him.


Syl jerked up from where she was doing her homework, eyes focusing in on a sight that only she could see. She tasted the air, scenting Krit's familiar essence, and something…. no, someone else.

The fierce raging snarl that erupted out of her mouth had no resemblance to the usually sweet, mild elfin girl and she let loose a howl of rage.

"MINE!" she spat, hissing, eyes dilated and turning almost black with fury.

Eva and Seth came rushing in the door, alert for any danger, and not seeing anything jump out at them. They saw Syl sitting there, back arched and rigid, hissing and staring into nowhere, thrumming with anger and indignation.

"Syl?" Eva asked tentatively, and both Seth and Eva reached out instinctively to touch her. The moment they made contact, they sensed everything come down…

"Krit," Seth snarled, eyes darkening as he was gathered up in the whirlwind rush of Syl's emotions.

"Roxanne," Eva growled out, giving voice to the name that Syl loathed, and now all three despised with a passion. Seth and Eva responded automatically to the perceived threat, lending their mental and physical will and strength, and Syl gathered that up without even knowing what or how she was doing this, and thrust with all her might.


"MINE!" a roar came out of nowhere, and Roxanne suddenly staggered back, giving a cry of pain.

Her head was tilted to one side as if someone had slapped her right across her face, and she had to grab onto the wall for support. The side of her face stung, and she could feel something wet and sticky run down her cheek. Slowly, she brought a shaking hand upward, and as she brought it down, she wasn't surprised to see her own blood. Four deep furrows were etched into the side of her face, starting to sting with a passion.

She looked toward Krit, and her eyes widened, for she could see the faint outline of a girl, just a little younger than Krit, standing there between her and Krit.

Her golden hair framed her face like a halo, and her blue eyes shot iced fire in her direction, pinning her where she hung, hardly able to draw a breath.

"Mine," the phantom girl snarled, baring her teeth, hissing. The sheer power and authority in this girls voice had Roxanne crouching on all fours, belly low to the floor, avoiding eye contact so as not to appear challenging, whimpering in submission as she responded to the ancient command.

"Y-you-yours," she stammered, lowering her head and entire body to the ground, pleading, placating. "Yours."

"Mine," the phantom Syl rumbled in a throaty purr, turning her attention to an entranced Krit.

"Yours," he repeated, acknowledging her claim, and then he grinned.

He growled to the phantom Syl, making a claim of his own, eyes darkening as he caught her familiar scent and the heady aroma her churning emotions gave rise to. Mixed in with her scent, he could make out Eva and Seth, and even deeper within that, the scent of Pack, of home, safety.

Using that to boost his own output, he stalked the two steps to the phantom Syl, and he put his hands on either side of her waist carefully. He didn't know if it was his mind playing tricks on him, and he really didn't care, but he could have sworn that she felt real under his hands.

"Mine," he repeated, more forcefully, and then he claimed her. He bit down in her soft, exposed shoulder, jaws clamping down and working as he felt her clavicle shift in response to the pressure his mouth was causing.

He bit down until he tasted that first metallic twang of blood, the taste, the smell of her, hearing her shocked gasp, driving and exciting him further. A pleased purring growl issued from his throat, and he closed his eyes, taking in her scent, lapping the blood and tasting her in his mouth.

"Yours," she breathed, just as she faded away.

"Oh. Wow."

Krit blinked and slowly he came back to himself to look down the last few steps to see Conner at the bottom, staring up Krit in awe, a little fear, and a great deal of excitement. His nose was busy sniffing the air, scenting an unfamiliar female transgenic, of the claiming, but seeing that only Roxanne remained, and she wasn't going to get out of her position until Krit left.

"Wow," was all he could say again.

"You could say that again," Krit rasped out, voice still deep within his beast, licking the blood off his lips, eyes still dilating.


"Catch her!"

"Got her."

"Let's get her over to the bed."

Seth and Eva were quicker to snap out of …whatever had just happened, and now they rushed to get Syl prone. Syl looked about unconscious, but her breathing was steady, almost like she was sleeping.

"Oh, Blue Lady, she's bleeding!"

"Damn, what did Krit do to her?" Seth whipped off his shirt and started to tear it into strips to pad her shoulder. There, on her left shoulder, was a perfect mouth indention, still beading and running blood.

"Don't you mean what did Syl do to Krit?"

"That too."

They worked quietly and quickly together, taking care of their wounded sister, and finally finished, leaning against each other, watching her sleep for that's what she was now doing.

"I don't know," Eva finally spoke quietly, stirring Seth out of the beginnings of his lethargy.

"What?"

"I don't know what just happened, here, now. It was…" Eva tried to search for the correct word, but too tired and overwhelmed to do so.

"Intense," Seth supplied, reaching over with one arm and pulling her closer and more comfortably against him.

Now that the immediate danger to Syl and Krit was over, they only then realized, how drained they were. Eva was starting to nod off, her head nodding against Seth's bare shoulder, subconsciously leaning into him, taking in his scent.

"Yeah," Eva agreed, drifting off.

"Wow," he muttered, already halfway asleep.

"Mmm."

"Krit," Syl murmured in her sleep, a pleased and relaxed smile on her face, as she slipped into the most restful slumber she'd had the weeks of separation.