Pillars of black smoke puffed into the air and everything seemed to rumble. The sky was a dull and lifeless gray, matching the ash that covered the ground. Pieces of concrete broke from their crumbled remains of the skyscrapers that had once dotted the city and the body parts that weren’t burnt and blown into the wind laid in scattered bloody heaps. This was the price of war, Simeon Grey thought, And it was a damn mess.

Kasira had once been a beautiful city, with sprawling exotic structures that had been otherworldly in their design and appropriately so. The so-called Devils of Kasira, named by the xenophobic Tribune of Blancus and media for the fact they descended from the sky and were perceived as harbingers of darkness, had been a remarkably advanced people with odd dark brown skin and a strange language. As a child, Grey had often traveled to Kasira with his father when he conducted business, watching the Devils from afar and smiling when he sometimes received a gift from them. He had never known the Devils to be anything but kind, though he considered that now, all they wanted was a way to influence Blancus through his father.

From the top of the hill where he used to look at the lake, Grey watched his small squadron of soldiers as they traversed the ruins. He could smell the charred flesh, even though the soot and smoke from the fires that burned around him were filtered through the helm of his Tarsus armor. The internally installed AI communicated to him the dangerous levels of radiation on the horizon and warned for him to steer clear. 

Grey made his descent, stepping over small craters and fires as he approached a large building, split completely in half. He looked up as he walked past and noticed strange carvings in the wall of people kneeling, their hands uplifted towards the sky. Splattered blood dripped from what appeared to be the sun. Grey stretched his hand to touch the odd hieroglyphs.

“Captain Grey?” a voice called. Though modulated by the Tarsus suit, Grey had enough experience with his unit to know their voices. The Captain turned his armored head fractionally and saw his subordinate, Sergeant Liora Sawyer stumble forward. The younger sister to FLOCK’s head psychologist, Liora had risen quickly through the ranks with the talent and intensity of a once in a generation type soldier. Adding her to his personal squadron had been a no-brainer and an easy way to get Anais in his good graces.

Sergeant Sawyer’s armor seemed to be covered in soot and debris. Grey’s Tarsus helm quickly analyzed her vital signs. Her heart rate was ridiculously high.

“Before you speak, soldier, you need to calm yourself,” Grey said sternly. His charge straightened herself and took in a deep breath.

“Permission to speak, sir?”

Grey waved his hand. “Granted. What’s going on, Sergeant?” 

The young woman gulped. “We’re finishing up our sweep of the city. Void Moon seems to have been a success,” she said. Grey nodded.

“Good,’ he replied. “I am sure the Tribune will be pleased to hear that.” Grey’s AC-8R blinked, adhering to his nerve impulses. The rifle separated into metal pieces, folding until it was the size of Grey’s hand. The Captain placed it on his magnetized belt and stepped over blood-splattered rubble to exit the fallen building. His Sergeant followed behind him onto the bomb-riddled streets. 

Recent rumblings of disappearances of Blancus’ civilians, odd interstellar golden light displays and drought had worried the religious officials of Blaucus, who were represented by one member of the Tribune. After a swift debate, the Tribune as a whole deemed that these Devils were attempting to destroy their home, as told by some ancient bullshit prophecy. Thus, Grey’s favorite city to gaze at over the lake had been reduced to a smoldering heap of debris before his very eyes and he felt the smallest inkling of sadness.

“Captain Grey?” the sergeant said. Grey hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking. “Are you alright?” The Captain turned to her and cleared his throat. Grey had to remind himself that he had done what was necessary. He served FLOCK and if these invaders had been an evil presence that eventually would have destroyed the planet, he had done a great service.

“Yes, we should mo—” Grey started.

“What the hell is that?” a modulated voice called. There was a distinct sense of fear and urgency in his voice. Grey’s AC-8R, colloquially referred to as an Acclimator, came to his hand. The metal parts formed to create a rifle in his hand and the Captain darted out on the street with Sergeant Sawyer on his heels. The rest of his unit stood a few blocks ahead, all of them aiming their AC-8Rs into a thick cloud of dust, smoke, and fire. Grey ran through his men and stepped to the front. His Tarsus helmet read the surroundings and with a neural input, Grey caused the visor to zoom and scan further. 

Ultraviolet. X-ray. Thermal… 

He did not believe his eyes or the reading that the Tarsus helm reported. There was no way…

“Captain, is your helmet saying the same thing?” Sawyer said softly. Grey didn’t answer. He only stared.

“There!” another modulated voice called. “Something’s coming from the smoke!” AC-8Rs locked and prepared to fire. 

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Grey could hear the cries of a child. How could a child survive a carpet-bombing, even if it was one of them? The cry was a long, sustained wail. To Grey, it sounded more like a wounded animal than any human he’d ever heard which made sense. The devils of Kasira weren’t men, after all.

“ERU, on me. We are moving,” Grey said. His white armored soldiers gathered behind him, then fanned out into a V-shape, with Grey taking point. Captain Grey primed his AC-8R. He and his unit traversed through the rubble and fire. The closer they grew to the screams of the toddler, the thicker the smoke seemed to become. The Tarsus suit made a series of clicks, alerting Grey to the growing heat of the fire and the poor air quality. Grey regarded it but continued to press forward. He would not leave his mission undone.

The Captain raised his fist and his unit halted. He quickly scanned the area, looking for places with ample cover. He did not want to spook this devil child. Grey split his unit into separate groups of three. He continued forward, beckoning Sergeant Sawyer and a senior officer to his flanks. His small cell remained silent, their AC-8Rs arcing across the street.

Pebbles and other debris rolled toward them and Grey stopped. The wailing had also. From the midst of the smoke and fire, Grey saw someone emerge. The tiny thing walked on shaky legs, befitting the toddler that it was. Though covered in ash and smoke, Grey made out the characteristics of the child. Dark caramel skin covered in blood. Light platinum blonde hair, layered with soot and debris. Golden-amber eyes, clouded by shock. The toddler wandered forward. His clothes barely hung on to him. Grey’s Tarsus helm scanned the child and to the Captain’s shock, it did not find any injuries to the boy. Not only had this toddler somehow survived the bombing, but he was also uninjured. Whatever blood was on his skin was the blood of those around him.

The child stopped in front of Grey and looked up at him. The Captain gripped his AC-8R uneasily. He was confused by the impossibility that stood before him. The child sniffled. Then, he spoke.

“Ame kumat.” It wasn’t a language that Grey knew. His Tarsus helm, spoke in his ear, silent to everyone else.

“Translating to Canter…’Everyone has died’,” Tarsus said.

Everyone except you, Grey thought. His first instinct told him to put the barrel of his AC-8R to the child’s head and pull the trigger. His neural readings gave his weapon life and Grey raised his weapon.

“Captain Grey,” his senior officer, Lieutenant Peter Gottschalk, spoke. 

Grey paused. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

The slender man’s high and sharp cheekbones rose and fell as he chewed the inside of his mouth in thought. “Forgive me, sir, but perhaps it would be best to bring the child with us.” 

Grey turned and stared at his Lieutenant. “Gottschalk?” Grey asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper. Lieutenant Gottschalk continued to speak.

“Captain, wouldn’t you want to know why this child survived a bombing that killed the rest of the population?” 

“Not necessarily. The order is the annihilation of Kasira and all its inhabitants. That is all.” Grey turned back towards the boy and Gottschalk moved forward.

“Sir, what if he could be of use to FLOCK? He survived a bombing that killed everyone except him. There has to be a secret ability he has, one we could use. If Anais could mentally recondition him, we would benefit from having him.”

Grey frowned. “And if we cannot? What then?”

The Lieutenant pursed his lips. “Eliminate him.”

The barrel of Grey’s gun remained at the child’s head, while his mind wandered off, considering Gottschalk’s words. His mission was near complete, save this one child. A child that for some reason hadn’t been killed. Grey thought of the men he sent out to die on a daily basis, handling uprisings and terrorist acts and how much it cost to train and replace such assets. Grey settled on the idea that perhaps it was true that FLOCK could benefit from having this young devil as a weapon. 

The rest of them had mysterious physiological advantages over humans and analyzing them as the boy grew would be interesting. Grey could create a personal weapon for dealing with threats to humanity, one that was completely obedient to him and should this experiment fail, they could dispose of him once they analyzed his weaknesses. Pragmatically, it made sense to Grey, though, he knew his mission directive and the fear he had for these devils made his trigger finger even antsier. There were supposed to be no survivors of this mission and the Tribune would take an incredible amount of convincing to let this slip by.

Grey’s mental impulse causes his AC-8R to prime and cock. It’d be safer to just kill the boy and be done with it all.

“Please, Captain,” Sergeant Sawyer said. “He’s just a baby…” Grey could see that her eyes were pleading. He looked back at the boy and sighed deeply. Then, his sergeant said, “Anais’ test failed. She needs this, Captain. Please.” 

Grey looked back at Liora and he felt his heart tighten in his chest. Anais… he thought. He closed his eyes. Compassion. During wartime, it was a critical weakness, one that Grey had worked hard to push out of his system. He simply could not afford to be weak, but when it came to Anais, he couldn’t help but to feel. He tried to rationalize. If their lead scientist and psychologist was in a critical state of weakness, so was FLOCK and the organization came first above all else. That was one of the very first lessons Grey had learned as an Initiate. 

“The strength of the flock came from the individual birds flying in correct formation,” his instructor had said. Now, it was time for him to ensure that he kept everyone in line and strong.

Grey’s AC-8R folded and the Captain loomed over the little savage. If the boy was of use to FLOCK, his memories would be wiped and Grey knew that the child would forget this day. Yet, he felt compelled to speak to him.

“Tarsus, translate from Canter to the language the boy spoke,” Grey said. Tarsus chirped in his ear and He began to speak. “You, child, are now the property of FLOCK. You will obey without question. You will comply with my every order. Or, you will be killed. That is your fate.” When Grey had finished, his AC-8R unfolded into an electroshock rifle and his Tarsus suit sparked with an electric field. He placed his hand on the toddler’s neck and fired two rounds from his rifle into his chest. The toddler fell and Grey grabbed him then passed him to Gottschalk.

“Tarsus, send HQ a message. Tell them that they can scorch Kasira. We are returning with the spoils.”