Hours later– on the hallway where the merry team of Laistair and the rest reunited– a green-haired boy lay there, surrounded by shadowed individuals.
"Alas, a failure. Ora11, take it away!"
"Another useless attempt,"
"Get the other embryos, place this among the disposables, and send down that batch to Narran."
The shadows warped and melded, their sounds incoherent, indescribable. Essence— unprecedented. They were everything, but real.
"Xecootta…"
A dark and gray silhouette appeared. The being lingered in the gap between reality and illusion. It was mixed with past and present… the passing now; the lost then.
"Xecotta, will be your name, and when on missions, F. R.E.D… Understood?"
"Yes, yes sir," answered a young, immature voice.
