The young boy jolted awake. It was late at night, and the moonless night combined with his mother's refusal to get him a night light made the room so dark he doubted even a cat could see in the gloom.
"It will help you get that ridiculous fear of yours under control," his mom had said.
He didn't know what was so bad about his fear of the dark; many children at his age had it. He did have to admit that it worked somewhat, for he had no choice but to get used to the dark if he wished to sleep. But that wasn't too important right now, the boy decided.
He strained his ears, listening for the sound that had woken him up. His bedroom door revealed the faintest of light shining through the crack at the bottom, a strange fact considering the strict sleep schedule his mother kept the both of them tied to.
'Something must be wrong,' he thought, pulling his over his head, believing in his immature, 6-year-old heart that the blankets would shield him from whatever monster had decided to invade their home.
He heard a crash, then a scream from who he knew to be his mom right in front of his door, then a soft, wet *thump*. Lifting his blanket slightly and sparing a glance at the door, he found the sparse light from before was only coming from the corners, as if some kind of object was blocking part of the crack. Then he noticed a dark liquid flowing from the large obstruction, but it was too dark to tell what color it was.
The obstruction was pulled away with the sound of rustling cloth, and then what looked like feet appeared under the door's crack. The knob started to turn, rattling due to its age. Fate ducked back under the blankets, clenching them tight to his body and head with his hands and holding the lower parts down with his feet, his heart hammering so loud he was sure that the entire house heard it.
He heard the door open, then the *stomp*, *stomp* of heavy work boots on the wooden floor. It reminded him of his dad coming home from work late at night before he died, stomping around in the house without a care for those sleeping inside, as his exhaustion and anger from his work always left him angry and tired.
But the boy knew that this intruder was not his dad.
The blankest were ripped off of the boy, despite his vice-like grip. Then he was lifted by his torso by large hands. The boy struggled, managing to slip out of the grip, and rushed toward the living room through the open doorway. He didn't get more than ten feet when he tripped over something large and oddly shaped.
Looking to see what had tripped him, he saw his mom; her dark blue eyes wide open, her mouth open in a wordless 'O', with a large knife stabbed into the area the boy knew hearts were. Flowing out of that wound was blood, spreading over the floor and into his room, as well as covering his hands, feet, and knees and flowing around them.
The boy now knew what had covered the door previously. Behind the corpse was a grim man covered head to toe in dark clothes with a bandana covering the lower half of his face, rushing towards the boy.
Taking all this in in an instant, the boy held back tears and leaned against the island to his right, scrambling up and running to the door that lead outside, where he was sure he would be able to make it to his Fildenan neighbor Charlene's house and be safe.
He didn't get more than three steps. The grim man grabbed the boy by his sleep shirt and hoisted him up, striking him on the head and setting the boy's vision spinning with stars. Then another strike, and the boy gave in to the dark.
An indeterminable amount of time later – the boy assumed a few days – he was standing at attention, arrayed in a row with four other children around his age. To his left was a boy with brown hair that seemed as pointy as the hedgehogs the boy had seen in pet stores, and strange silver eyes.
To the left of this boy was what he thought was a girl, although the brown hair cut short made it hard to tell, although the brown eyes the child had complimented the hair nicely. Next to this girl was a strange, pale boy with equally pale white hair and eyes as dark as the night the group was taken.
To his right was a boy with more strange hair, this time dark green, with matching eyes. Next to the green-haired boy was a girl with light green eyes and black hair that was oddly long for her age, reaching to her back.
The boy knew they no doubt went through the same events he had, including the treatment upon arriving at this strange place with bright white walls, floors, and ceilings. He knew, for they shared the same vacant gaze and hopeless expressions as he, and not a single one moved an inch.
They knew what would happen if they stepped out of line, literally or figuratively. The room they were in was barren of decoration. At the end of the room, was a door set into the right wall, behind them on the ceiling was a projector.
In front of them was a male Fildenan slave with its wrists chained to the ceiling, its blue skin pale and emaciated from lack of food and its four eyes as vacant and hopeless as the children. All the man had to cover his decency was a tattered black loincloth.
The children had stood at attention for over two hours now, but they did not dare to move even a muscle. Previous unpleasant experiences had taught them that every room had cameras, even if they were not visible.
Finally, a man walked in through the door, which detached into two halves and slid both up and down, hiding the parts in the gaps in the ceiling and floor. The man looked like the scientists the boy had seen in movies and TV shows, with a stereotypical white lab coat and black glasses.
The lab coat was opened to reveal a shirt as white as his shoes and pants, with the only splotch of color being the blue pen in the coat's chest pocket, the aforementioned glasses, and the strange symbol rampant throughout this place: a black, capital A, with a circle around the three points. He had straight brown hair cut short and blue eyes, which looked at the children with a paradoxical mixture of indifference and excitement.
The 'education' of the children included the goals of the group this man belonged to, the "Advanced", which was to create the perfect lifeform. The boy and his peers were the ones unfortunate enough to be deemed perfect test subjects for this goal.
The man strode to stand in front of the Fildenan slave (the children had learned that the Advanced consider Fildenen worth less than even cattle) and studied the children.
After a few short seconds, he said "We have decided that depriving you six of names will just make things harder, and mixtures of numbers and letters like in the movies," the man snorted with contempt, "are unnecessarily lengthy and tiresome to pronounce every time we need you to do something, so we have seen fit to give you all new names."
He pointed at the green-eyed girl "Hera." Then he moved his finger to the green-haired boy and said "Apollo." The boy himself, "Null." The pointy-haired boy, "Ares." The tomboy, "Hercules." Finally, the pale boy, "Hades."
"Remember these names well. You all know what to expect if you disobey orders, and we shall only refer to you six by these names from now on. Now, Apollo, step forward and grab this." The man pulled a knife from somewhere within his lab coat and held it out, hilt first.
Apollo stepped forward swiftly, not wanting to be punished, and seized the knife.
"Now, kill this thing in one strike, or you won't get dinner tonight," the man said and gestured to the Fildenan.
The boy, now named Apollo, swallowed audibly and stepped toward the Fildenan, the expression of both unreadable. He lifted the blade to his chest, both hands on the hilt, blade pointing outwards, and plunged the knife into the Fildenan's heart.