AN: Mark Walden signed over the rights of H.I.V.E to me. Then I woke up, without ownership of the series.

-1/2 A YEAR LATER-

"Report, " Anastasia snapped at the nearest Glasshouse trainer.

"All students are physically performing as required. However, a few of the newer recruits- Paul and Paula Norris continue to defy orders. Do you wish for them to be taken to the punishment rooms?"

"No. You bring them to me."

"Yes, ma'am. May I enquire why?"

"No, you may not. How is 665 functioning?"

"She is showing signs of rebellion but otherwise she is doing well. A bit too well, in fact. She is physically progressing at an alarmingly fast rate, which has made a few concerned. Yesterday, she managed to take out all of the guards that she encountered in her training and today-" Anastasia cut him off abruptly with a slap to his cheek.

"Keep it brief. How many are dead? And what sort of rebellion?" The slight fear in Furan's tone piqued the man's curiosity.

"Thirteen are deceased; seven are severely injured. 665 hesitates to carry out what she is instructed to do and, as well as attacking students, she has started to attack staff."

Anastasia glared daggers at the man before her- Jacob Alerton, "You call that 'rebellion'? That is a mere side effect that'll soon pass." Alerton's eyes widened. He was obviously concerned for his wellbeing, with good reason. One did not worry Furan for nothing and keep their lives.

"Sorry ma-"

"Do not apologize. When you bring students Paul and Paula Norris to my and Pietors' private quarters at nine tonight, you shall be dealt with. Dismissed." Anastasia watched emotionlessly as the young man hurried away. The truth was the results were extremely concerning and caused unease to prickle relentlessly at her skull. 665 was the first of a new batch of genetically altered assassins that were designed to be more powerful than any other. If that girl was to become an enemy, the consequences would be catastrophic. All Anastasia could do was hope the behavior 665 was exhibiting was- as she said- just a side effect. But deep down she knew it wasn't. Ever since Lilia had been eliminated, she had known something was wrong. And soon, they may all pay the price. Anastasia shook her head; it was not over yet. There was still time to break her further before she had to be sent on assignment. But still, something was telling her that it would not work and refused to shut up. She shook her head again slightly and glanced at her watch- 8:30 A.M. She made her way to a combat pit where Pietor was yelling at a bunch of students. 665 stood apart from the group, but watched them intently.

"You are to complete the course within three minutes. The first five to fall and those who exceed that limit shall face the consequences. Line up and begin on my word."

Anastasia observed 665's actions carefully. For a moment she seemed reluctant to obay Pietor. But as quickly as the unwillingness had appeared, it was gone. She narrowed her eyes as 665 slowly, but calmly, made her way to the course. A smug grin found its way onto her face. Anastasia wanted to slap it off and she could tell Pietor wanted to too.

"Go!"

Again, her compliance was delayed. Her performance, however, was outstanding. She climbed over and through the obstacles (that Pietor had designed) like they were nothing. She flipped through the lasers with impossible grace and agility. When they caught her a couple of times, she continued without fault even though any other person would've been in unspeakable agony. Anastasia felt the unease creep back into her stomach like an unwelcome disease. The girl was like a cat- she always landed on her feet and seemed to have nine lives. She compleated the course in under a minuite. Next was sparring. As predicted, her excecution of the task was exceptional. Although, when Pietor gave the command to kill one of her partners, the hesitation returned. The rest of the day went in a similar fashion.

"What do you propose we do with her?" Pietor asked, devoid of emotion. He was sitting opposite her in their private living quarters.

"With who?" Anastasia enquired distractedly. She glanced at the clock that dominated the wall behind her brother- 2 minuites until Alerton brought the students

"665."

Anastasia paused for a moment. She had been thinking of that for a very long time and her plan was only half formed and carried risks she did not think they were prepared to take. But it was much better than nothing.

"We send her on assignment earlier than what we agreed."

"Have you lost your bloody mind? There is no way-" Anastasia held up a hand and Pietor fell into silence.

"A specific assignment. UAUP have been a threat to us since we started the process. Lenny has recently informed me that some may suspect that his death was not exactly genuine. Among those are Patrick and Harrison Blake. The brothers of 665."

"You are aware that seeing her family may trigger unwanted memories, I assume."

"Of course. But that is the intended result. Hopefully, when it happens, she will realize that the only thing she can do is hurt and kill others and that she might as well have someone with power to use her. And those people will be us."

"Or she could turn against us."

There was a knock at the door just as the clock struck nine.

"Enter!" She yelled.

Alerton walked somewhat timidly in, knowing that a harsh punishment will befall him, holding the Norris twins by the scruff of their necks. Pietor moved his discreetly questioning gaze from the door to his sister.

"Take him to the punishment cells. Do what you wish with him, but leave him alive and fit enough to train. I will deal with the students."

Pietor nodded as the guard gulped nervously, looking pained as Pietor grabbed his wrist with enough force to break it and dragged him out indignantly with his face on the ice cold floor. Within a few minuites, Anastasia heared screams and smirked. She held out her hands for the students and for a fraction of a second, she looked like the mother she could've been by then. "Shall we?"

She led the students out of the Glasshouse as they gave it their best shot at escaping her vice- like grip. They soon entered the clearing where the warehouse stood proudly over the surrounding environment, even though the long dead trees were notably taller than it. She shoved them inside as Lenny rounded the corner towords the entrance. He grinned viciously.

"Any specifications?" He checked.

"See if you can use them to improve 665's batch."

"What is wrong with it?"

"Rebellion. The very thing we hired you to put an end to. I hope I don't have to reconsider my decision."

"You will not, ma'am."

"Good. Get to it."

She turned sharply on her heel and left the room, the door slamming shut behind her with a BANG that sounded like it could be heard on the other side of Russia.

"Let us go, you bastard!" Paul screamed at Lenny, thoroughly enraged.

"Strong language for someone so young."

"I'm thirteen!" Paul protested.

Lenny examined him critically, making Paul feel self conscious of his freckled skin and ginger hair.

"Short too, then."

Paul didn't have a reply to that immediately, "I'm not short," he sheepishly countered.

"Blind as well. It seems I have a challenge on my hands, shorty. Guards!"

Four men came out from a door the students hadn't noticed. They were clad fully in black and looked like they could shatter any chosen bone at an inhuman speed.

"Restrain them and take them to the testing area. I will be there shortly."

The men grabbed the students' arms and legs and took them into another room, their strides large, quick and purposeful.

The room was occupied with a few scienists, hustling around the desks that they used for a practical work surface. On some there were jars containing human body parts, flesh and blood. On others there were peculiar pulsing chemicals being put in with what had to be thousands of cockroaches. The unsuspecting insects didn't stand a chance and they were devoured before they could register what was happening. The people who weren't participating in the experiments were theorizing about their newest procedure and why it went wrong in hushed tones. It seemed word got around quickly. There were two leather chairs in the most hideous yellow possible to create. There were straps hanging loose from them that were used to restrict movement. The guards shoved the students in them and stood by, awaiting Lenny's arrival for orders. He came in shaking two oddly shaped syringes that had something resembling a tiny socket on the top containing an opaque red substance in one hand; a computer with two wires attached to seperate connectors dangling off of it in the other.

"Sir," one of the men greeted, voice stilted and polite.

"You are all dismissed, but I may call on you later." The men turned and left as one. Lenny turned to Paul, "I will allow your sister to go first as she did not display such a disrespectful attitude earlier on. But you, my boy, shall have the pleasure of watching."

He stabbed the syringe into Paula's neck and connected a wire from the computer into the top of the syringe and a message popped up on the screen: SUBJECT 665/A CONNECTED. READY TO INSERT FLUID. Lenny realeased about half of the liquid into Paula's bloodstream. She started thrashing around, screaming and foaming at the mouth. She stopped and Paul's heart joined her for an instant in fear for his sister's life. It had always just been the two of them. He doubted he could live without her. Her eyes seemed vacant and her mind somewhere else. There was another message: SUBJECT INCOMPATIBLE. DO YOU WISH TO TERMINATE? Y/N.

"Bloody DNA structures..." Lenny muttered, barely audible, before clicking- much to Paul's relief- the N button. The fluid rushed back into the syringe and Paula returned to those with a conscious mind.

"What was that?" She asked, her voice small and cracking.

"This? Just a little invention of mine," this caused the scientists to scowl at his back, "the part that entered your system can be thought of as a tester and transmitter to see if you are compatible for the procedure. For your information, you are not and should glad I checked; otherwise you would be a lot worse off. It sends a 'signal' to the part that I kept in the syringe- this bit can be thought of as a reciever and reactor- and it reacts to the signal by pulsing in a certain way. That pulse is measured by the computer and it tells me if I can go ahead with the mentioned procedure." He turned to Paul, "and now it's your turn." Much to his disappointment, Paul was also incompatible.

Unheard by Lenny or the seemingly doomed children at first, the scienists' subject had changed. A redhead dressed mostly in green and her acquaintance were being the most vocal by far, which said a lot about Lenny's control over them.

"The little swine. Why does he always think he can take our credit without us getting pissed off?"

Her companion sighed, "because he knows that as long as he holds those closest to us, he holds all the cards."

"Why must you always be a pessimist, Steve?"

"It's not pessimism, Sash, it's realizm."

"Don't ever call me Sash. Anyways, what if we just go? It's not like we can die again."

"He has our families, Sasha."

"Oh yeah... That really screws things up."

"You idiot."

"I'm not the idiot," she gestured at Lenny, "he's the idiot. Anyone could just kill him as he sleeps. Like taking wool from a baby."

"Candy."

"Steve, you are not a kid. You don't need candy 24/7. You don't even like candy."

"First of all, I was corecting you: it's candy from a baby, not wool. And I like candy, just not to the point when I have nightmares about candyfloss chasing me down the street, naked because I had just had a shower in jelly."

"That's all that happened?"

"Yeah..." Steve drew out the word, like he was scared it was the wrong answer.

"You woke up screaming and tearing me a bloody new one."

Steve went bright red, "shit," he muttered.

"And ever since then you were too horrified at the thought of sweets to even be in the same room as them."

"So we kill him and then...?"

"Shut up," Sasha whispered urgently.

"What?"

"He's listening."

Lenny walked over to them, radiating with fury that had once caused his personal assistant to back up, shaking, into a sub zero, polluted river. Needless to say, he was no longer around. "So, it seems you want your brothers, sisters, mothers and lovers to die as well as yourselves. How selfish. Guards!"

The guards were still only dressed in black, but this time they had rifles held up to their shoulders, ready to shoot. They walked in with an infuriating indifference but were evidently waiting for the smallest excuse to put a bullet in someone's head.

"Take the four of them into the disposal area and kill the hostages for workers," he paused to look at their badges, "Lucy Resnok and Luke Zarieth."

Lenny took out four syringes from a holder on Steve's desk, oblivious to the fact that Steve had added something extra to them while he was giving the guards orders. At the same time, Sasha had exchanged their badges for fakes they kept in her draw- Lenny had never actually checked the names of his staff. The workers had similar abilities as they were both Undead. Their actions weren't seen, even by the Unnatural guards. Lenny stabbed the syringes, containing a mild sedative and the solution that killed the body only to make it temporarily immortal, into their veins.

The disposal area was a grey room of minimal size with thick, steel walls. The scientists already knew what was going to happen and sat in a condemned silence. Meanwhile, the students were quietly debating how they would be disposed of. Without the most inperceptible warning, flames shot up from the centre of the room. Then in the corners. Smoke engulfed them, but they could see. They were getting badly burnt, but their wounds healed almost immediately. It felt as though they had a million hearts beating throughout their bodies. Scalding heat seared through every millimetre of their beings. They knew they would be hurting for weeks. But they were still alive and the suffering reminded them of that. Steve grabbed the student's wrists and pulled them into the corner furthest from the huge steel door. Sasha took a bomb out of her pocket and placed it by said door. Sirens wailed as it was blown to smithereens.

"Childs play," she bragged as she rushed out. Cold air greeted her and she welcomed it like an old friend. Steve went to follow her but the students refused to budge. He turned to them.

"C'mon. We're leaving." His tone held no force, but that was all it took to convince the students to go with them. He had said, murmered, screamed that sentence so many damn times. On all occasions he had failed. Each time, somebody had to pay. But this time he was certain: they truly were leaving. And he would not let anything get in his way this time.