AN: This is a completely original piece of writing. Details and characters may not be used without permission. Because I feel a little self-conscious about it, I'd like to say that half my pen name on came from the character I'm about to introduce in this chapter, not the other way around. Please forgive any deleted spaces between words--it's an annoyance on this site that apparently will never go away.

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I hated the apples in prison. They always tasted like shit—leftovers not good enough to sell at full price to the general public. Since I got out, I'd started eating them every day, along with a variety of other fruits to treat my various illnesses caused by a lack of essential vitamins and nutrients my growing body needed while I served time. Mako—Captain Scott—he made sure the cooks would give me plenty to eat first thing after we arrived on the base.

I'd gained twenty pounds since I got out of slam, and grown a little taller. I was still a runt, but I could live with that.

It wasn't uncommon to see me wandering the base in my spare time. I'd usually have something in my mouth from the kitchens, so people assumed I was just making a snack run. So long as I walked around like I know what I'm doing, no one suspected me.

I threw the core of my apple in a passing janitor's trashcan, continuing on down a hall I had no right to be in.

I'd heard there was a new guy coming into our unit, and I wanted the first glimpse of him. Like I said, I was a runt—so I liked knowing what I was dealing with before I get into trouble.

I paused mid-way down the hall, looking both ways. The coast was clear.

I jumped up, using my entire body like a spring to launch myself upward to grab a section of pipe above me. Hanging by one hand, I moved the vent above me up and forward from its resting place, and then let myself dangle by both arms, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

I swung my legs backward, then used my forward motion, abs and arms to propel myself up and over the pipe, like a gymnast swinging on the uneven bars, and neatly slid through the above vent feet-first. After replacing the vent plate, I started to slide forward, inching along toward my goal.

I'd definitely grown some. It took far longer to reach the opening above Mako's office than it had months before, when I'd first arrived on the base. My shoulders were almost too broad for me to fit in the tight space anymore.

There were two men standing below me, and one man sitting. I slowed my breathing, concentrating on the hushed voices used by the two standing men.

"No offense intended, General, but I only see this ending in disaster."

General? General Ross, maybe? We'd heard of that prick. Always telling the Cap how to run us non-human guys in training, so we'd turn into perfect little soldiers for the Tiger Sharks.

Only five of us, including Mako, had survived our first trial mission. It wasn't the Captain's fault, but only we knew that. Of course we were going to die. That's why they recruited us out of prisons, and concentration camps. Non-humans weren't allowed in the regular military. Those of us who'd joined the Tiger Sharks, and survived the first three months of training, had nothing to look forward to but suicide missions.

Still, the odds of survival were much better with the Tiger Sharks than with sitting on death row.

The general chuckled, walking around Mako and looking his office over.

"Do you really? You don't think I can provide a working solution to your current problem? You think the Senate's turned its back on you—refused to supply weapons up to the tasks you're required to perform?"

Captain Scott pointed to the man sitting in the chair. "That is not a weapon, Ross. That's a man—but you wouldn't know it looking at him. Jesus H. Christ, where the fuck did you dig that guy up? He looks like a Goddamn meth addict tripping out of his mind."

I pressed myself to one side so I could get a look at the man they referred to. I could see what Mako meant. The dude didn't appear lucid. He just stared constantly at the ceiling, his dark eyes rarely blinking. I'm not sure what it was, but something about that guy gave me the sensation of someone walking on my grave.

Ross came to stand behind his 'weapon.' I could almost see a sick sort of pride in his smug expression. "I think you'll find Sergeant Kade more adept than you could ever imagine, Captain. We created him to be perfect. Give him a chance to fight for you, and soon you'll agree he's earned the name 'Equalizer.'"

Mako shook the personnel file he'd been skimming in Ross' general direction. "Is this true? He can't even speak? How the fuck am I going to train him if he can't confirm an understanding of my orders?"

"I told you he only came to us a short time ago. He was...damaged. We patched him up with better results than expected. There were some complications in his recovery. It's all well documented in his medical file, and I don't find it an issue. I'm sure you'll find a way," the General said, smirking.

The Captain closed his eyes, as if praying for the control necessary to continue speaking with this man. "And what about my men?"

"What about them?"

"They aren't stupid, and half of them are superstitious from growing up in the numbered prisons. They've heard the stories and the legends. They're going to know what that thing is," he said, using a wide, sweeping motion with one arm to indicate Kade. "I've got a hard enough job pulling them together without them pissing themselves every time they hear a strange noise in the dark."

Pissing ourselves every time we heard a strange noise in the dark? What the fuck could make guys in the Sharks do that? Each of us had earned the name 'scariest mother fucker on the block' at the prisons we'd come from. We were the worst of the worst.

The general smirked knowingly. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way, Captain. You always do." With that closing remark, the general excused himself from the room, leaving his man behind.

Kade still stared at the ceiling, oblivious to all else going on around him. I didn't like the look in his eyes, or the way he stayed perfectly still at all times. I couldn't put a finger on it, but looking at the dude sent chills down my spine—and it wasn't like I hadn't seen some shit in my day. I'd done time on death row for murder. It'd been a frame up, but I was a killer. Self-defense, mostly, but who was counting?

Mako slowly plodded over to his desk, tossing down the file and then turning to face his new recruit. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing out a long sigh, half-sitting down on the edge of the steel desktop.

"The name's Scott. Captain Scott. Most of the boys call me 'Mako,' but I guess you won't be calling me anything."

When Kade didn't even blink, the Captain shook his head, using two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Tell you what. Go do whatever the hell you want until chow time. Mess hall, seventeen hundred. Dismissed."

Kade immediately got to his feet, took three steps, and reached up to tear away the vent I was looking through. Before I could react, he grabbed my shirt and yanked me out.

I fell a good seven feet, landing so hard on my back I thought my spine must've snapped in two.

His hand closed around my throat before I could even start to get my bearings, and my eyes widened when I realized he was going to kill me—those murderous dark eyes staring straight into mine. This dude was one cold-blooded son of a bitch. I clawed at his hand, but the muscles of his arm and fingers were steel. When I dug my nails between the tendons in his forearm he didn't even flinch. I kept my neck muscles tight, but I knew I wouldn't be able to resist suffocation for more than a few seconds.

"Stand down! Let him go, Sergent," Mako yelled.

Kade didn't even move his head; only his eyes slowly slid toward the Captain's voice, narrowing slightly.

"Release him, now! That's an order, Kade!"

The grip on my throat finally slackened. When he didn't remove his hand quick enough for my liking, I twisted around, cracking him solidly in the side of the head with my boot. He let me go, his head turning with the force of my kick. I'd expected to at least knock him on his back, and maybe unconscious. The dude must've been an ox in a past life.

"Jesus Christ, Vale. What have I told you about sneaking around?" Mako snapped, crouching down next to me.

I gasped for breath, one hand holding my bruised windpipe. I would've said something sarcastic, but I couldn't say anything.

"Just hold on and breathe easy. We'll get you down to the med bay and you'll be all right."

I shook my head. I'd be fine. I just needed a minute to catch my breath. Besides, there was nothing they could do for me in med bay but give me pain killers that would dull my senses. I was on the one strike system. If it looked like I was causing any trouble at all, they might send me back to sit on death row.

One of the enlisted privates stopped by the open office door, completely out of breath. "Cap, there's a huge fight out in the yard. A man's down with a knife in his leg."

Mako straightened up, sighing again and rolling his eyes. "You'd think this outfit could go for ten minutes without adult supervision. You," he said to Kade. "Protect Vale with your life. If I see another mark on him, I'll pack you in a box and send you back to General Ross this afternoon. Understand?"

Kade narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Good," Mako muttered, walking quickly past us and disappearing out of sight, the door slamming behind him.

With the rest of the world shut out, Kade's stance relaxed, in spite of the fact that I eyed him with more than a little suspicion.

He took a step closer to me, and I tried to flinch away when he reached down to grab my arm. He pulled me to my feet with an ease that frightened me.

Once I was up, he let me go, returning to his chair. Again I eyed him—what the hell was up with this guy?

I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by. I limped over to Mako's desk, and picked up Kade's file. He didn't seem to notice my interest in it. He just sat there and stared out the window.

"Shit," I croaked, after several minutes of struggling to read the medical portion of his record. "Looks like you've really been through the wash. Eight 48-hour memory mod sessions, twelve reconstructive surgeries for facial structure, ribs, and spinal cord. Five separate regeneration sessions for the brain alone. Collapsed lung. Amputated right arm..." I glanced at him, figuring I would've noticed if the guy was missing a limb.

Sure enough, he had two arms and two legs.

"Must've had a typo there. Scar reduction treatments, tattoo removals. Administration of..." I couldn't even pronounce the name of the drug listed, nevertheless recognize its use. I turned Mako's monitor so I could see it, and asked the computer to search for the drug's spelling in a pharmaceutical dictionary.

It gave me references to a pill used to stop people from dreaming.

Jesus, no wonder the dude was so on edge. They'd taken everything from him.

I turned to look at him, suddenly not so afraid. I couldn't raise my voice above a whisper, but it would have to be enough. "What'd you dream about, man? Why'd they put you on meds so you wouldn't dream about it anymore?"

He didn't move. I figured he could hear me, but he didn't act like it.

I grabbed a pen and pad and limped over to hand them to him.

"Here, man. Write it down if you can't say it."

He didn't. He took the pad and pen from me, but he didn't do anything with them. Just kept staring off at nothing.

That night when I climbed into bed, just moments before lights out, I found a piece of paper under my pillow. It was a detailed sketch of a girl sitting alone at a table, tears running down her cheeks.

I leaned over the edge of my bunk, looking down at Kade, who'd taken the bed below mine. Most of the day he'd kept appearing near-by when I least expected it. No one had tried to steal from me at dinner, because he'd been sitting right next to me, huge and looming.

"Who is she?" I asked softly, letting him see I had the paper in hand.

He was laying on his back, staring at the mattress above him with his hands laced behind his head.

I bit my lower lip, thinking about all I'd seen and heard about him. The answer clicked in my mind.

"You don't remember who she is, do you?" I posed, leaning down a little farther so my view of him was almost upside-down.

His eyes met mine for less than a second—the first eye contact he'd afforded me since he'd tried to strangle me. It was enough to give an affirmative to my question.

I shifted back up onto my bed, my head thumping back onto my pillow.

"It's better you don't remember," I said. My bruised throat hurt like hell when the muscles tried to constrict. Tears pricked my eyes for the first time since I'd gotten sent to slam so many years ago. I wouldn't let any spill, but it was nice to know I could still feel something besides cold numbness, especially when I thought of the woman I'd loved. When they'd convicted me of her murder, I'd thought I'd never feel anything again. "They kill the ones you remember," I whispered.

My words were met with silence—but somehow I knew he'd understand.

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End.

AN: Look for the sequel to this story called 'All the King's Men.' I've posted several chapters of it already.