03 teleports, and exactly as he expects, he finds his body redirects him to the containment cell against his will.

  He can already hear 08 smashing into the glass, the sound of it cracking making 03’s hairs stand on end.

  08 must have been holding back in their training, he had to have been intentionally displaying less strength to avoid suspicion, because even as 03 pulls on the edges of his power to try and break down the containment cell, he can’t.

  Now he draws on every ounce of strength to punch through the glass, his knuckles turning bloody against the fracturing material while 08 finally breaks his way through.

  03 can see 08’s hands, the flesh peeling off from his fingers as he punches one final time, his fist finally driving through the glass, creating a hole, breaking whatever seal keeps them there, and then he teleports beyond it into the hallway.

  The thought of escape must be clouding 08’s brain, as he moves at supersonic speeds to punch a hole through the blast door—his powers no longer impeded by the cells—and in doing so, cracking 03’s glass even more for him.

  03 stops punching the glass, and instead senses a small fissure where a crack lets in a trace amount of outside air. He tries to teleport beyond but whatever stops his power doesn't cease. He needs a bigger hole. Focusing on the micro fracture in the glass, he summons his blade within the space and watches as the glass is carved away from the razor edge of his sword as it is summoned, making a large enough hole to release his full power and teleport beyond the glass.

  Unable to see 08 any more, he has to calculate where he is likely to be.

  08 is smart, and desperate, but 03 is smarter, and far far more desperate.

  The air of the teleportation room is replaced with the cool night air, cold against his back as 03 teleports to the space he knows 08 will be. 08’s body appears inches from him, and in one smooth motion 03 drives his blade down through the unsuspecting 08’s chest.

  He’s predictable, in the dead center of the courtyard approximately 3670 feet into the air, as he was moving at 1200 feet per second for the past 3.83 seconds since breaching the door.

  08’s eyes go wide as he plummets to the ground, his body crashing into the earth with a deafening boom. 03 can hear the buildings around them shudder and begin to crack as the pressure wave crashes into their surroundings.

  Dust rushes past them both, but 03 doesn’t let up, he pulls his hand away from the sword and summons a new one, carving it through 08’s chest until it reaches the spot his wings connect to his back. With a flick of his wrist 08’s right wing severs, and blood pumps out from around the mortal wound.

  03 expands his own wings, creating a dome around the two of them, so that 08 can’t see the sky above, or anything other than 03.

  His eyes adjust to the darkness, as he mounts 08 on the ground, blood quickly pooling around them, soaking into the broken earth, into 03’s legs and hands as he too continues to bleed from the wound 08 left in his stomach.

  Tap tap tap

  03 can hear the sound of a beak on stone,

  tap tap tap

  Something pulls on his feathers from outside, something small, something insignificant, something imaginary.

  03 shudders a breath, coughs, and lets a sob die in his throat as he watches 08—watches Cris meet his gaze.

  Cris brings a hand upwards, and 03 flinches away, but in that flinch Cris pulls back.

  “I’m so sorry…” 03 tries to suck down breaths of air, but they come shallow and pained.

  “Hey… hey it’s okay.” Cris smiles, blood leaking from the corner of his lip. “Come here…”

  03 brings his head closer, and Cris brings his hand cup the back of 03’s head, holding him there.

  Cris uses his thumb to wipe away some wet that streams down 03’s cheek.

  “I’m sorry I made you do this.” Cris sputters, blood pouring from his mouth and out onto his shirt. “I'm sorry I stabbed you too.” he chuckles, his eyes searching 03’s.

  “We can’t run away. It’s impossible,” 03 says, his voice sounding strange then, so distant, so impossibly far away.

  “I know... I know we couldn’t.” Cris tries to breathe, but the air doesn’t come, so he gives up.

  “You—you don't have to die! Promise you wont try and leave again and they will forgive you! Come on…hey come on, just promise to be what they want, promise you’ll do what they say alright? Please? Please Cris come on! You don't—you can still—” 03’s voice cracks, and his weight drops, dropping him into a hug on his friend's dying body.

  Cris shakes his head, and uses the last of his strength to bring his hand to wrap 03 in a hug. “Better to die trying, right?” he whispers.

  “No no no… come on, hey come on Cris! I can get you a stim! I can—”

  Cris weakens in 03’s shaking hands. His friends lips curl into a smile, and his hand reaches to 03’s chest as he taps the letters E-R-E-N into 03’s heart.

  His hand goes limp, and the light fades from Cris’s eyes.

  03 doesn’t have the strength any more, his whole body aches, tears flow from his eyes, everything hurts.

  Slowly his wings disappear, the last of his feathers fading away into black tar that soaks into his body, revealing a sea of crows staring at him in the courtyard through the fading dust.

  ***

  03 deposits Cris’s head at Doctor MacArthur’s feet as soldiers rush into what remains of the common space.

  The expression of pride the doctor gives him then, is the purest form of happiness 03 has felt in a year. Doctor MacArthur's eyes erupt with a brilliant light, his smile sends 03’s nerves at ease, and the stim he delivers nearly brings 03 to his knees.

  “Excellent work. I knew you were the right one.” Doctor MacArthur watches with satisfaction as 03’s wounds close. “Now, James, after seeing our final test, what say we christen our Vanguard with their proper names, yes?”

  James watches the dust settle, watches the other members of vanguard gather to see the head of Cris at Doctor MacArthur's feet, all of their eyes on him.

  06 holds something back, while 07 tries to hide a tear building in the corner of his eye. 04 scowls something resembling contempt, 05 crosses his massive arms, shaking his head, and 01 for the first time, has a look of something other than apathy on her face, though 03 couldn’t quite tell what it is. Curiosity, maybe?

  “Should we go elsewhere?” James asks

  “I believe that would be best. Come, come my birds, come come!” Doctor MacArthur claps his hands, and so they obey. Walking with the older scientists at a slow pace as they exit the compound and enter into a different wing of buildings belonging to site-51.

  03 can’t focus on anything other than the crows, they follow him as they enter the building, flocks of them perching along window sills, tapping on the glass, cawing so loudly it even overpowers the fading noise.

  Nothing feels real, everything numb, his body, his mind, his very soul. Each step weighs a million pounds, each breath impossibly difficult even after the stim.

  “So, are you feeling well now 03?” Doctor MacArthur asks.

  “My wounds are healed, yes,” he confirms, jostled for only a moment.

  “No no, not your wounds, I mean emotionally! Have you made peace with your situation, no more escape attempts?”

  “I never intended to escape...”

  “Hmmm, maybe, though you were going to let 08 go through with it, had we not intervened, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose it is only natural, we have been running you boys—and girl,” Doctor MacArthur coughs, “into the ground! A necessary measure as I'm sure you’ll come to understand but one I am not particularly proud of. No, I would have much preferred a slower method, but well, when the 0-6 council tells you to do something, you best get to doing it.”

  Doctor MacArthur opens up a large double door that leads into a hybrid office and lab space. A number of electronic devices line the walls to compliment the collection of raw materials, books, screens and measuring instruments. Against the back wall is a tall bookshelf that frames a single wooden desk. Where six heavy plastic cases rest, a swarm of crows gathered around one in particular, a swarm of crows no one but 03 is able to see, evidently.

  Six cases, not eight, like the number of people they started with. Not seven, after Jessica died, but six…

  The Doctor must have known all of this would happen. 03 has no doubt that much like the initial simulation there was never a chance of escape. They had let this happen, expected it to happen, to see who would try...

  Did they intentionally not condition Cris as much as the others? Did they plant the seeds inside of his head to see who would follow? Did it matter now?

  there was never an escape option, never...

  Was it still better to die trying? He wonders, but it doesn't last long in his mind as Doctor MacArthur sits at his desk and slaps his hands enthusiastically on the cases, sending the imaginary crows scattering throughout the room, their eyes unmoving from 03.

  “These are for you! Your new uniforms, I had a feeling that your handler would be put off by your faces so these are to ensure we remove that little roadblock hmm? Try them on! I want James and Doctor Yiva to see this.”

  Doctor MacArthur hands 01 a crate, though before he lets her have it, he looks to James.

  “Have you thought of an appropriate callsign for our girl here?”

  “I believe so. 01, can I see your wings?” James asks

  01 obeys, and spreads her wings wide, revealing the faintly iridescent color to them in the light of the space.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Iridescent coloring, strong legs... perhaps a bit of irony given your recall but lack of vocalization or socialization. To celebrate your graduation from trainee to fully fledged Vanguard member, You will receive the call sign Starling.

  “A pretty name I think.” Doctor MacArthur nods his approval.

  “06!” Doctor MacArthur calls, ushering the tanned boy over after handing Starling her box.

  “He is strong, fast, and an excellent fighter... let me see your wings?”

  06 obeys, and displays his darker brown wings.

  “Not the largest of the birds, but powerful regardless. Falcon would be appropriate.”

  “Very regal.” Doctor MacArthur smiles, hands him the crate, and calls for 04 next.

  “After reviewing the footage of their first tests, I know what to call him.” James scowls slightly.

  “A terrifying bird... one that swoops in when the prey is easy, or already dead. Vulture.”

  “My my.” Doctor MacArthur cracks a grin.

  Vulture himself doesn’t seem fond of this name, but he is in no position to say anything about it, and grabs the crate, moving on.

  “Small one, you’re next.” Doctor MacArthur watches as 07 approaches cautiously, almost as if Doctor MacArthur will hit him.

  “07… Something small, but full of vigor and drive. Weak... but capable. You’ll go by Sparrow now.” James nods Sagely.

  “A lucky bird,” MacArthur coo’s.

  “Is that…true?” Doctor Yiva asks, prompting a shrug from James and dismissal from Doctor MacArthur.

  Sparrow takes the crate with a glimmer of something like pride in his eyes.

  “And you! Large one. You two couldn’t be more different. I saw how you clung to Vulture. You are quite good in the area of violence aren’t you?”

  James has to crane his neck to see 05’s face. “Another terrifying bird, a large one. I could go with Ostrich but I don't think that sounds violent enough for you.” He looks over to Vulture and then back to 05. “I’m thinking Condor will work.”

  Doctor MacArthur dismisses Condor and then settles his eyes on 03. He doesn’t need to call him over, 03 simply approaches, and watches as Doctor MacArthur assesses him.

  “The Harbinger liked you... everyone else was mere seconds but you took quite some time.”

  03 doesn’t know how to respond, so instead he stays silent. He can still feel Cris’s Morse code tapping on his chest, repeating over and over and over. His eyes move to the imaginary Crow’s, but he’s unable to meet the gaze of his team mates.

  He can feel them watching him, and that pain is more than enough. 03 knows if he looks, what he will see will shatter what’s left of him.

  “Traditionally, crows were thought to be harbingers of death. They would gather around battlefields, you see, as they knew that when a gathering of men were around, there would be death soon, and death meant a feast. Smart creatures...”

  He hands 03 the box, but his eyes linger for a while, searching 03’s

  “I don’t mean to take this from your handler, but believe me when I say that this is very important to me. You will be Crow... and don’t tell the others, but I think you are my favorite.” He says with a warm smile.

  “Crow it is then…” James taps into his tablet, evidently having written something else down.

  Crow takes the box and brings it to the side.

  Crows as harbingers of death…

  “Doctor Yiva, would you be so kind as to step out for a moment with James?”

  “Of course.” Doctor Yiva nods her head, eyes lingering on all of them for a moment before she closes the door, leaving them alone with Doctor MacArthur.

  Crow’s mind returns to the birds on his roof, tapping at his windows. He had seen them long before he met the Harbinger, long before he got these powers. He never really believed in much, no fate, nor destiny or anything of the sort.

  Crow might start believing in it now though. The Harbinger is something beyond his understanding, it could have been science or magic and it wouldn’t have made a difference. The harbinger is so far beyond comprehension its existence and subsequent effect on him has been left undigested in his mind. But there is something in the way Doctor MacArthur said his name, called him Crow, it just felt right. It felt as right as the certainty of the death the harbinger promises them all.

  Maybe this is his destiny. This was always meant to be, there was nothing he could have done to avoid being in the place he was in now, and that thought alone brings him a great deal of comfort in spite of the pain that pierces his chest.

  He was always meant to be here... that has to be it, that’s the only way to explain it all, no… it’s the only way to stop the noise, to snuff out the pain burning through him like a forest fire.

  He was always meant to be here, and that is the reality of it. That is the reality they all have come to accept.

  The noise falls away, as his mind collapses in on itself, sucking him further and further away from the surface. After a while it feels like he is a passenger in his own body, someone performing the movements he needs to while everything else boxes itself away somewhere safe and dark.

  This is what he has to do, this is what he has to become, this what they all have to do, all have to become. Starling had the right of it from the very beginning didn't she? Shut it all down, like walking through the halls of his mind, turning off all the lights one by one, closing up for the night.

  “Get changed you all! I want to see Doctor Yiva’s reaction when she returns.” Doctor MacArthur claps his hands together

  Crow looks down at the case, and opens it, revealing a white mask sat atop folded black cloth.

  The mask is entirely featureless, save for two angled eye holes and a slight curvature to the mask to ensure it makes contact with his face at the top, bottom, and sides by the temples.

  It fits perfectly, as does the rest of their uniforms as they slide into them. It is a plain black long sleeve shirt with a turtleneck collar, simple cargo pants that taper to the ankle. The material of both articles a heavy weave—likely some sort of Kevlar or other bullet proof material to ensure that it didn’t tear itself apart at hypersonic speeds, or after an extended collision with the ground.

  The shoes and gloves are tied for the second strangest element. Their shoes are skin tight, and slightly thicker than the gloves, likely to optimize stealth. The gloves are incredibly thin, though still decently durable, likely to prevent fingerprints.

  He is slightly worried about his hair which has grown long in the month since they shaved it all off, as he knew it was possible that it could be used as a way to identify someone, but then again he noticed early on that his hair would continue to grow, but he hasn’t shed any hair since contact with the harbinger. In fact, his body was in perfect health always, not so much as a flake of dead skin or a stray blackhead appeared.

  The last item in the box and the strangest in Crows opinion, is the long black trench coat that extends down to the ankles. Like the shirt it has large slits down the back to allow their wings to extend out without tearing.

  Crow can’t figure out what its purpose is at all. It’s made of a similarly thick woven material, but if the intent is further bullet proofing it would have been more efficient to equip them with more armor around vital organs, as opposed to one with a large open space in the middle.

  Still, he puts it on, and stands shoulder to shoulder with the others, the mask’s eye slits thankfully large enough to not obscure his view.

  “Come in, come in!” Doctor MacArthur calls, and waits for Doctor Yiva to open the door.

  Her face contorts into something akin to a frown, while James’s eyes just go wide at the sight of them

  “Doctor MacArthur, with all due respect, what the hell is this?” Doctor Yiva runs her hand down her face, meanwhile James seems adequately impressed.

  “These are their new uniforms!” Doctor MacArthur claps his hands together, impressed with his work.

  “I for one think they look good.” James nods his head approvingly

  “See Doctor Yiva? James understands.”

  Doctor Yiva groans audibly as she moves her round rimmed glasses off her nose to rub the bridge.

  “Don’t you think the masks make them look rather terrifying?”

  “They really do.” James continues to nod along.

  “They are assassins, anomaly hunters, government operatives, they do not need to look scary, Doctor MacArthur they need to be killers.”

  “Doctor Yiva, I have worked with you long enough to know you mean no disrespect but I must stop you before you say something that will make me rather upset.” Doctor MacArthur's voice drops to a terrifying register as he leans forward. James even takes a half step backwards at the sudden shift. “You have done excellent work in the growth and development with my birds but you must understand that they are my birds to do with as I see fit before they are handed over to the 0-6’s oversight.”

  Doctor Yiva readjusts the glasses on her face, so that the light hides her eyes. Crow can tell she’s thinking about saying something in the silence that lingers after MacArthur's words.

  “For what it’s worth, I think they do look terrifying,” James confirms, trying his best to break the lingering tension

  “I can allow myself to be professional about the work that we are doing, the necessary actions to ensure we keep this country safe from anomalies, but I can't accept you taking pleasure in playing dress-up with government assets.”

  Doctor MacArthur sits back in his chair, and his voice returns to its normal tone as his gaze softens. Meanwhile, Doctor Yiva stands firm in her position, her shoulders squared and her eyes dead ahead.

  “You misunderstand... I take pride, not pleasure for my work, Doctor. I take no pleasure in what it is we have done and what we must do still. Were this entire program possible with adult volunteers using humane methods I would have jumped at the opportunity. But alas that was not possible, especially not in the time frame the 0-6 required.”

  Doctor MacArthur looks over to the line of vanguard with nothing but adoration, his smile widening as Crow spares a glance in his direction.

  It’s a lie. Crow can hear the flutter in Doctor MacArthur's heartbeat. Doctor Yiva might be pragmatic, James might be following orders for his country, but Doctor MacArthur didn’t have to send Crow after Cris by himself. A test of loyalty was an excuse, an excuse to play with his toys.

  But that doesn’t matter any more, and the knowledge of a thing does very little to change its outcome.

  “You are welcome to your opinions much the same as I am permitted to choose the aesthetic given to my life's work. I may have written the papers, done the science—committed myself mind, body and soul into this project at the Williams behest, and yet it is you who has been seen with them, you who oversees their daily activities while I analyze the numbers and micro-manage every facet of their lives to optimize performance. Once I hand them over to the 0-6 they will be gone from my oversight... This is my mark, the proof of my hand in their existence.”

  “Can you provide... even a small excuse for the coats?” Doctor Yiva lets her breath out, the atmosphere growing more casual again. “I understand the masks for identity purposes as well as aesthetics but...”

  “The purpose is that I think they look rather fashionable. They were all the rage back when I was a boy, and I always thought that the mature adults who wore them looked so important. Perhaps if you are in need of some other excuse, you could say it helps make them look older, so the Handler and their targets don’t recognize they are only teenagers.” Doctor MacArthur waves his hand around absently, not at all happy with his own excuse, but one level deep is all Doctor Yiva needs it seemed.

  “Their first mission briefing is in three days,” Doctor Yiva sighs, looking over her tablet. “It is fast, I know, but time is of the essence now more than ever. I believe it would be best for them to spend the night in the auxiliary compound until their normal quarters are restored?”

  “An excellent idea Doctor Yiva, please see to it.”

  “Very well then...” Doctor Yiva sighs again, and exits the building with James at her side and the Vanguard, ironically, at her rear.

  The moment the door closes, Doctor Yiva’s expression drops, her heart rate increases, and a layer of sweat begins to form along the back of her neck.

  James in similar fashion, drops his shoulders ever so slightly, and shares a look with Doctor Yiva, dropping his voice low.

  “What exactly are we doing here, Doctor?”

  “Exactly What needs to be done,” She responds quickly, though Crow hears her tone begin to waver

  That being said, Crow's arc now will continue naturally and logically from his decision here. We will continue to see much more from him, though as a heads up, a core focus now is largely internal. I hope you all continue to stick around to see how this all connects. We took extra care to ensure that ever mission, every event, and every micro-arc has a place in the wider world. Details matter, even if it's not explained why until another 50 chapters from now lol.

  ALSO - they have their new names as well. From here on out (the rest of volume 1) these will be the names they go by. Sorry for the changes and switching around but the process was essential for their characters. Here is the last and final name chart we will be using.

  01 - Chloe - Starling

  03 - Eren - Crow

  04 - Colin - Vulture

  05 - Jerimiah - Condor

  06 - Tony - Falcon

  07 - Hayden - Sparrow

  08 - Cris (May he rest in peace.)