Kristine Neff hated it here. She hated Sector One. Not that she was fond of any of the other Sectors, though. She much preferred her real home.
She had infiltrated Sector One's ranks and had become the assistant of the war coordinator Thomas Garek. Nobody here knew who she really was, and she knew that they never would. That knowledge would paralyze them, it would shatter their reality. No, Kristine would leave them in ignorance. If they knew what was out there, there was no telling what they would do.
However, there were a few individuals she could tell. She could reveal the truth to some here, if they would only come to her. If the Unnatural found out, they could help her. They were already heading out of the country as quickly as possible; why shouldn't she help them? That was why she had reverted Sector One's attention away from Ashley Moore, Sector One's resident Unnatural. She would be the last one, Kristine knew, that the group would pick up. They would be coming right to her, and she could captivate their attention then. And, then, when she saved their lives, they would have to join her monarchy.
Kristine walked down to the airway that was near the building Thomas Garek used as his headquarters, carrying a suitcase that held one of her most prized possessions inside. "I need a jet," she said.
"For what purposes?" asked the guard there.
"Mine."
"For what purposes?" repeated the guard.
"Would you like me to tell you?" said Kristine, impatient, "I'd be glad to do so, but only after I've knocked you unconscious, blown your brains out with your own rifle, and stuffed you into a closet in the plane of my choosing."
"You may enter," said the guard, knowing that he wasn't going to get answers out of her.
"Thank you," said Kristine politely.
"We will send a pilot team to Jet 434 immediately."
"That's very courteous of you; however, I can take care of myself."
"Understood."
Kristine walked through the gate and walked up the first airplane she came to. She started it, setting her suitcase on the ground next to her seat. The airplane's engines roared to life, lifting her up into the sky. She guided the plane forward, staying at the controls for only a few miles before setting the plane to auto pilot, grabbing the suitcase, and walking back into the rear of the plane. When she returned to her spot, Kristine was no longer dressed in the stiff uniform she had worn in Sector One. She was now dressed in the long skin of a large cat, the claws at her feet, and the head on her back, fangs drooping over her shoulders. But, most importantly, was what adorned her head. Sitting on top of her was a crown, not made of gold or jewels, but composed of a large assortment of bones and teeth, two of the teeth stuck up in the air until they reached about six inches in height, the bottom two fangs running down her face and jaw. Small bones dangled from the crown like jewels hanging from the crowns of past royalty.
Kristine sat back down in the plane's pilot seat and began guiding the aircraft herself, heading towards her home.
Nearly two hours past before she made it. She spotted the twin hills that marked her descent. She lowered the craft onto what seemed, at first, a pare patch of land. However, as she approached it, the patch opened into a deep, dark pit. The plane lowered down for what seemed like miles. When it finally settled down, the patch overhead closed, bathing Kristine in a darkness that would have made the fiercest of warriors quiver in fear. However, darkness was where Kristine lived. She relished in the blackness of the deep for the few seconds she had with it, for almost as soon as she had landed the craft, lights flickered on, an escort of guards coming to meet her.
Kristine walked down the ramp, walking down the aisle of soldiers that had come to meet her. The soldiers wore armor made of the bones of the dracnae, a mysterious race of creatures that had long since been extinct. However, their remains had endured the years of harsh weather and exposure, making them excellent choices for the armor of her soldiers.
Kristine's second in command, Matthew Scott, walked up to her.
"You're back sooner than expected, Your Highness," he said.
"Is that a twinge of disappointment in your voice, Scott?" Kristine said, keeping her eyes forward, "Did you enjoy your period of superiority so much?"
"No, Your Majesty," Matthew said, "I am merely surprised. We were expecting you to be back in several weeks."
"There's been a change of plans," Kristine said, leaving the airlock, "I want that ship destroyed." Matthew nodded to a nearby soldier, who marched off to the airlock.
"We're…not going to try to overtake the Sectors?" Matthew said.
"We still are," Kristine answered, "However, we're going to take a different approach."
"That is?"
"The Unnatural."
"Excuse me…what?"
"The Unnatural," Kristine repeated, "Do you remember when the Sectors undertook in Project Leon?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Apparently they succeeded when they thought they had failed. The result was the Unnatural, a group of super-human beings who would easily give us the power to destroy the Sectors, let alone just taking them over."
Matthew was silent, shocked by this revelation.
"But Xandar will try to get them before us, will he not?" Matthew said.
"That is what I fear," Kristine answered, then chuckled at herself, "An interesting choice of words."
They walked through a huge set of doors and into an even larger, domed room. At the back wall were positioned seven large thrones, the biggest in the center, three on each side of it. This is where seven ancient lords had sat, back in the grand days of the nation that Kristine's people had inhabited when it was abandoned. There were always seven; they changed from time to time, but there were always seven, never more, never less.
At least, not until now.
Now only one person sat on the thrones; the queen of these people, the New Subterainians.
Kristine Neff walked up the stairs that led to her throne. In the Sectors she was seen as a mere servant of the Nation's war coordinator, someone who would manage his time, his money, and his other servants. However, here, in New Subterainia, she was seen as so much more. Here, Kristine was a ruler, a monarch, a queen.
Kristine sat down in her throne. "It's good to be home," she said.

Thomas Garek stood before the crowd of people in Sector Six. He was standing behind a podium in front of the governor's home, giving a eulogy to Williard Poore before the people he had overseen. Thomas wasn't particularly interested, however, although he hoped the people didn't know that. He had never cared for the welfare of Poore or any of the other governors. He saw them as squabbling idiots who all battled each other, only focusing on themselves, or, in some rare cases, the good of their people. But never were they interested in others, they were always selfish.
But somebody needed to look like they had actually cared for Poore, and Thomas had been selected for the job for whatever reason.
"Williard died an honorable death," Thomas said, coming to the conclusion of his eulogy, "He died trying to stop the Unnatural, an evil that no one man could hope to destroy by himself. He knew this full well, yet he stood up to them, armed with very little. Williard was brave, brave enough to stare into Death's very eyes. Death was offended at the insult and saw Williard as a threat; that is why he was taken. Death is a thing that all men fear, but not Williard. He wasn't afraid, and I don't think we should be either. We shouldn't let Death control us; we should be like this man lying in a coffin, who died a hero; we should look Death in the face and challenge him to a fight in his own game." The crowd cheered, clapped, and stood for Thomas. Thomas gave a courteous bow and walked from the podium and around the crowd. He walked into his car, where an assistant drove while another sat next to him, constantly informing him on things Thomas apparently needed to know. Usually this annoyed Thomas, but, this time, the assistant had something interesting.
"Sir, Kristine Neff has gone missing."
Thomas turned to him, "Missing?" he said, surprised.
"She asked for a jet and disappeared off the map a few moments ago."
"How?"
"The jet appeared to be descending just before we lost contact with it. We fear she may have crashed."
"Where?"
"Outside the Sectors somewhere. She seemed to be heading to Sector Eight, but we have no idea what her intentions were."
"Why not?"
"She refused to tell the guards."
"And they just let her walk by?"
"Apparently, sir."
"Someone's getting fired today. I need to know something else, though. We have a student who is supposed to be transferring from Sector Two into Sector One. Give me an update on that."
"Caleb Watkins is under surveillance. We should have him in Sector One within forty-eight hours, sir."
"We'd better hurry. Peyton wants him there before the Unnatural reach Sector One."
"Why?"
"Do you really think I ask the Head of the Secret Service why he wants something done?"
"No, sir. I was just wondering what we must do once he arrives."
"We're going to begin him with the standard Sector One training. However, once the Unnatural get there, we'll put him to a test. If he passes, we'll have victory over some of the Unnatural, if he doesn't, Peyton will be able to move to Plan B."
"Which is?"
"Project Zero."
"Excuse me, sir, but what is Project Zero?"
"I'm afraid I cannot say, partially because I do not know that much about the Project. I've already given you enough information, anyways. I cannot tell you more."

Ashley Moore stepped out of the car as a different person. She walked around the car and opened the door, letting Thomas Garek out and let him walk to his mansion. Ashley walked around the mansion, shifting when nobody was in sight. Now she was a common man, an average person walking home. She turned through the streets, nearly passing out from the stress of so many soldiers that were present. If she were caught, she didn't know what they would do to her. She had survived for two years on her own; running since she was twelve, since she had discovered her power. She had planned on running, but was discouraged when she saw that the Unnatural were coming. She knew she was one of them, and that they were gathering together. They would be here soon, she knew, so she had decided to wait. And then there was that conversation she had had with that strange woman; Kristine Neff.
Ashley knew that she could survive on her own just by shapeshifting into different people. However, she didn't want to live like that. She didn't want to hide for much longer; she wanted to be accepted by somebody, anybody. And, if that somebody was someone just like her, that would be even better.

Stephen sat on a couch in the sitting room in the lab, watching Mark and Phoebe. They seemed so happy together. Stephen was happy for them, too, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit of curiosity.
Stephen felt the couch next to him dip, and he instinctively leaned the other way so as to avoid falling in. He looked next to him and saw Gabe sitting next to him. "How'd you sneak up on me like that?" Stephen said.
Gabe shrugged, "If I can be anything, I might as well be as loud as it. Besides, I've got experience."
Stephen looked back at Mark and Phoebe, who sat next to each other in the lab, fingers entwined, speaking with Veronica and Byron. "How can they be so happy?" Stephen said.
"What?"
"They've barely known each other. How can they know they love each other?"
Gabe was silent.
"I think it's just an infatuation," Stephen continued, "Love's not that simple."'
"You would know?"
"Perhaps."
"At least they're happy."
"But they'll be devastated once the infatuation ends; they'll want to feel happy but won't be able to."
"But, while it does last, they'll do anything to keep their happiness. Most people would."
"But would other people help keep their happiness?"
Again, Gabe was quiet. "You're a better listener than converser, you know that?" Stephen said. Gabe just shrugged.
Kaytlen entered the room. "We're getting ready to go," she said, "We'd better hurry up and get out of here, or else those two are going to do something we really don't want to see."
Stephen smiled politely at the joke, but kept wondering. If Mark and Phoebe were at odds in any way, what would Stephen do to help them?

Everyone else had gone into the small elevator that would take them back up to the surface. Byron turned around, seeing Veronica standing there. "Come on," Byron said, beckoning her to go into the elevator.
"No, Byron," Veronica said, "I'm going to stay here."
"No, Veronica, you're coming."
"I need to stay here."
"Why?"
"Because there's some…research I have to do. Besides, you don't need me coming; it'll be better if there's as few people as possible."
"No, it's not; you're coming with us, whether you like it or not," said Byron, grabbing Veronica's arm and dragging her forward. Veronica pulled back with surprising strength.
"Byron, I'm staying-"
"I'm not losing you again, Veronica!" Byron shouted, "I won't be back this way; if you don't come with us, we'll never see each other again."
"I see," said Veronica, "So it's about you. You-"
Suddenly, there was an explosion. "Hurry!" called Kaytlen. Byron grabbed Veronica, who was distracted, and dragged her to the elevator. He pushed them up. "Go up to the roof!" Veronica said, "They'll come in through the main entrance."
The elevator rose slowly, but picked up quickly, ascending rapidly until they were on top of a roof.
"Not a good idea," Mark said, pointing upwards, where a helicopter hovered above them. It opened fire. The Unnatural scattered across the roof. "We have to get down!" called Byron. Something exploded again. Metal creaked and the building shook. The building began to lean, then was falling, falling fast towards the ground. "Get to the next roof!" Veronica said. Gabe was the first one to jump, grabbing Kaytlen and jumping to the next roof. Stephen ran to Mark, who was closest to him, and grabbed his shoulder. The next moment, they were on the other side.
The building was leaning dangerously now, almost at a forty-five degree angle. Byron was hanging on to the top edge of the roof. Veronica jumped for his hand, about to fall over. Byron grabbed her wrist, but he was barely able to hold both of them up. "Grab on!" he heard from below. After he felt another tug from below, he knew that Phoebe had grabbed ahold of Veronica. "Climb up!" he groaned.
"Are you sure?" came Phoebe's nervous reply from below.
"Yes; do it now!" The building was close to falling on its side now. Byron could feel Phoebe climbing up; the only way Byron was able to hold was through adrenaline.
Soon Phoebe was climbing up Byron's body, pushing off his shoulder with her foot. "Jump to the ladder!" he yelled, referencing the ladder that led to the roof of the other building that the others were currently climbing down hastily. "Come on, Veronica!" Byron yelled. Veronica grabbed his leg and began climbing up. Byron swung his other hand up and grabbed the edge of the building. He was now holding on by his fingertips. Veronica climbed over him. She was on top of the building now, out of Byron's vision. That was good; she was probably safe. Byron looked down and saw the ground coming at him faster than before. Byron wondered why.
And then he realized: he was falling. His grip had faltered and he was falling down to meet his death.
Ah, well. It was bound to happen. Byron wasn't going to die of old age; he had known that for a long time.
But was this how he was going to die? Broken and bloody in the road, crushed by the weight of a multi-story building? This wasn't what he had imagined.
But, as he thought in the three seconds he was flying, he was content. He was okay with dying like this. He had saved his friends lives, and now they were safe. At least, he thought they were safe. He knew he could rely on Veronica to get them out and away from the Nation. In some ways, no, in most ways, Veronica was better than he. She was smarter, she thought more logically than he could ever hope to do.
Just as suddenly as he had started, Byron stopped falling. He saw darkness. He felt weightless. This is it he thought to himself and this is fine.