No one expected the calm and still behaviour expressed by the glaring man when they gave the chamber a tiny peek. Chills bloomed on their skin and down their spine as they caught his eyes. Irises so light, they blended into the whites leaving only the piercing black of his pupils focusing on their stares. The men outside the barriers sneered at him.

Their own eyes focused on the man's posture, looking intensively for any sign of movement. A twitch - a flicker of hair even, but nothing.

"It's been a week already and this beast hasn't even moved a single muscle," the guardsman whispered to his partner, "Not a word either."

The younger man, most likely a student volunteering as a guard, stole a glance into the cell himself, wondering if this statue-esque creature was truly as he was described. A dark, demeaning shift of the eyes penetrated into his and he instantly jumped back to avoid the icy coldness rushing into his veins

The innocent soul had never seen a look so corrupt and hateful bearing into one menacing glower.

"Don't worry kid, he hasn't done anything since and I doubt he ever could inside this-" The fool of a guardsman tapped his knuckles hard into the cell door, enough to frighten the lad.

The boy flinched at the bold action.

"Isn't he the one who had killed a guy - a rep from somewhere, I think. You know I saw him, when he arrived. He was alive then, walking, talking...it's hard to believe he's now dead."

The guard looked down at his volunteer, opening his mouth to give a cliched word of sympathy for the child when a dead, gravelly voice hummed into their ears. Without notice, the prisoner had already moved towards the door window. Nonetheless, their reaction of extreme alarm didn't surprise the captive.

Both raised their guns at his head, one determined to shoot and one trembling in fear.

"What did you say? Speak up!" the guard provoked. The student turned to him horror-stricken, wishing he could shut the reckless mouth, but the lowly voice came again before he could do anything.

"It's been six days..."

"What?"

"You said it has been a week. Technically it has only been six days..." The words came off as viperous growl.

"S-so?" the young man dared to squeak, but was shushed by a single hand. The guardsman steadily planted himself between the two, sensing the baleful aura that suffocated them and began to defend the boy. "What of it? Freak."

Little did he know that his words of audacious bravado were to be his last.

The sudden screeching sound of steel tearing apart burned a hole into their eardrums and caught them off guard. They lost a moment of their attention, but it was enough for the heavy-built door to be ripped off of its frame and flung into the unnoticing guard. It collided with a tremendous force, flinging the guardsman and the student onto the wall with a great crack.

As the ringing of the impact subsided, Khan stepped out of his chamber to inspect the damage done. He didn't even bother to look at his victims before he started for the halls.

Like a passionate blue flame, his eyes began to flicker and a glint began to shine.

"I'm sorry you couldn't last your desired 'week' with me." His voice vibrated throughout the corridor in a deep contralto until it was merely a ghost of a whisper.

Fortunately for the boy, he retained his youth spared by a passing glance and the sacrifice of a dead man that suffered most of the blow.

But his life would forever be haunted by the icy, menacing glare that petrified his very being and the blood of the innocent dripping slowly down his face.

Khan passed through like a walking shadow among the pallid interiors of the Academy. Or underneath it, to be exact. The cold, stuffy air and the excessive amount of lights hung above him made the location almost too easy to affirm.

He walked without direction. His only incentive was to find the others. He knew he was the only one separated and the rest were held somewhere in a similar cell.

They feared him, Khan knew that. He knew exactly what he had done to cause their dread.

And he felt proud of it. The violence, the deaths, it empowered him, satisfying the untreated battle in his head.

Sherlock had lost.

Khan had won.

But the stubborn detective still held on by a hair, floating in the place of a conscience. He was still there, buried underneath the darkness.

All he needed was a single light.

Upon reaching the other side of the underground labyrinth, his keen ears had already sensed the quiet murmurs of familiar voices.

"But Sherlock..."

A spark ignited, awakening the detective.

That wasn't all he heard, however, as he picked up the shuffling of padded feet behind him and the clacking of guns against bulletproofed vests.

But Khan ignored them, his eyes fixated on the doors in front of him. He was too close to get distracted now. Using his great strength, he found the edge of the sliding doors and crushed its side with all his power. Muscles rippled along his arms to his shoulders, his strong outline pressed against the tight, black uniform making it more clear that the young detective of Baker Street was no more.

The adamantine door slid open with a protesting grunt and he stood on the entrance where the now slab of crumpled steel used to be.

In front of him was no more than a breathless look of speculation and surprise.

And there was John, eyes wide with disbelief.

Speak of the devil and he will come.

"Sherlock..." he gasped.

The spark turned into a flame. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as he finally reunited with the rest. He looked over his doctor and almost smiled as he saw him unharmed. But his contentment didn't last. As he stepped forward, his actions were stopped short by the alarm in everyone's faces directed behind him, reflecting the trouble that awaited.

John froze.

Sherlock turned slowly and found a brigade of guns pointed right on his head.

"No movements. From all of you or we will shoot."

Sherlock panicked as the small nuzzle of the rifle was aimed at him. Yes, he panicked. In every situation he's ever been in he always had a plan. There was always time to deduce - time to be brilliant and clever, but right now, he simply didn't have the luxury. All his focus was centered on keeping his mind and to avoid unleashing his savagery. One slip could be fatal. So he was left without his intellect and wit to save him now.

Out of habit, his eyes flickered to John.

"Sherlock...what the hell-"

A shot was fired near the doctor's feet, restricting his movements. The detective's eye twitched.

"I said don't move!"

Behind him, Lestrade fumed. "Okay enough with the bloody shooting, we all know that isn't going to work for us!" The bold inspector stood up and started his way towards the armed guards, confident that his regenerative abilities won't fail him. He dropped a heavy hand on John's shoulder as he passed by and Sherlock a scowl of askance.

"Stop! I demand you to stop!" The distressed guard was emitting a strong cowardice as Lestrade continued until they faced each other with no more than a hand's length apart. The trembling guard was rather short. Short enough for Lestrade to look down in dominance.

"Get back you demon or I'll shoo-"

But instead of feeling threatened, Tobias's animosity only grew hotter.

"Then shoot."

He knew from his very existence that this charade was nothing but bluff. They were nothing but cuckolds compared to his superiority. A spasm of ferocity began to unfurl in him and he could feel his body react without his consent. Raising a much lethal fist, Lestrade knew he was already taken over by his own beast and there was no stopping him from harming the guard.

Except for one.

Or two.

Even five.

Five pistols were simultaneously pressed against his skull as his body tensed and froze.

He could already smell the gunpowder.

"A bullet to the shoulder might not have affected your buddy over there, but don't get so cocky about five shots. Straight through your brain."

Tobias tsked. He's had far enough on their diffident threats.

"I told you, didn't I? Shoot if you have your fucking chance. SHOOT!"

"Greg!"

John was appalled by the man's very words. There was never a sliver of certainty that he believed the detective inspector would utter such things, but little did he know, it was truly Lestrade's own words just fed through the vulgar mouth of Tobias.

It was a plea to kill the danger that was his festering darkness.

But the trigger stayed untouched.

The apathetic guard smirked and simply dug the barrel tighter against his temple.

"I would gladly send one flying through your brain, but unfortunately that isn't mine to call right now." Tobias's brows furrowed as his eyes darted to the man. They stared at each other coldly and hatefully despite meeting only for the first and hopefully the last time.

Not another word was spoken until more footsteps came clanking in and all attention were directed towards a tall, spidery man walking in with much authority.

The unknown person had a face of no youth nor age, but the thinning grey hairs sticking out of his head gave much evidence that he was yet another old man. His eyelids drooped in a plastered gloomed expression, yet his bright eyes gave the impression of a beaming child's. He was a man full of contradictions it almost made someone amongst the Augments stifle a snort. Even his suit, dark as a black hole itself with not a speck of lint to obscure the illusion, clashed with the Academy-wall white of his dress shirt.

Unlike the professor, this man wore a frown so deep, it seemed as if gravity was at its strongest at the corner of his lips.

No one uttered a breath, except, of course, for Sherlock.

"And who do we have the honour to grace us with his presence?" The snarky detective, even at his worst, always had the urge to give a remark.

But the old man didn't have the patience and continued on without a sideways glance. " I am the head of the council of the United World Nations. I am here to give you news decided upon the other members that will declare what happens to you now. I suppose you are all curious, correct?"

Every single Augment shook with nervousness at the sound of "head council of the United World Nations." also known as the superintendent of the British representative that had died by one of their own hands. They knew they saw them as a threat, and whatever the outcome they had determined for them, it wasn't going to be a good one.

John Watson looked over to Sherlock once again with a heavy heart. He couldn't save the detective. He couldn't keep his word. Whatever the circumstances, there was no way he would ever see that dick of a sociopath ever again.

They could imagine the words streaming out of the man's mouth already.

'Exile'

'Torture'

'Imprisonment'

They would just be left to rot because of one unexpected 'mistake'.

"We would like you all to participate on our first major expedition to the newly contacted planet of Vulcan." The old man heaved a sigh as if it was just old news.

But everyone thought differently. The sulking doctor whipped his head up in bafflement. "What?"

"Come again?"

The whole room seemed to be struck by lightning; all nervousness turned into pure disconcertment.

"You will partake in a voyage to explore the desolate parts of-"

"Um, excuse me, but why the hell are you asking us?" Lestrade interrupted, sharing the same confusion as all the others. The head of the council raised a thin eyebrow like the question came as much surprise.

"I don't understand, this is a great honour to be bestowed with, this is an accomplishment surpassing the voyage to the moon. You should be blessed."

Lestrade looked to John. John looked back and turned to Sherlock who eyed the placid man distastefully.

"But why us?" Lestrade began to heat up but found enough patience to speak with clenched teeth. He needed an answer. It was as if they've completely forgotten the murder!

"My dear man," he shifted, "you're being is the most compatible for this very journey! Your strength, your powers, your intellect - its perfect for the unknown encounters you might face whatever roams in those alien lands. We understand your bafflement, but think of it as making use of your capabilities. Every nation had agreed unanimously. All of you will be part of your very own crew set for course in a matter of time. This is a privilege, young man. Don't question it any more."

"But-"

The superintendent tried for a smile which left even the innocent guards shivering in repugnance, and turned away sharply, leaving the room before the sentence could even be finished.

His short, blunt and unexpected visit had caused quite a stir amongst the Augments.

As he walked away, his eyes glinted with heavy mischief.

The Vulcan Expedition departs in one week.

A/N Sorry for the sporadic updates, I'm still trying to finish up some assignments T-T But no fret! I've got a chock full of notes for the story on my journal so I won't go on a writer's block on you guys (hopefully ヽ（゜ロ゜；）ノ )

Important question though! Do you guys want to extend the story line to the present time of Into Darkness? Bringing in some Spock, Kirk, and Marcus? Let me know! Reviews are helpful and welcomed! :3