Hey, casey. SO SORRY my email hath died. Therefore, I said screw it and I'm just gonna copy-paste the next section here. Kay? Read and love. ^-^ Oh yeah, other ppl can read, but it probably won't make any sense. TSUBICHUU!!!

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In all actuality, Epsilon supposed it could have been worse. Could have been more violent an outcome. Milo could have been alone
for hours. Stitches could have been missing. Meta could have had no idea what was wrong with the smallest and most deranged of the
motley band of renegade survivors, which of course would have produced an impossible amount of much worse outcomes. Could have
been.... should have, in some cases. But eother way, it was still very, very bad.
The section of the Wing relative to their size looked as if it had been used for some sort of ammunition practice, only with ink and
pencil and other various tools of writing. There were huge black slashes across the floor and walls, chalky grey residue left on the stairs
and the walls and on Meta, mainly. Besides Milo, she looked the worst of all of them. The diminutive doll-like creature who now sat
trembling in his figurative 'arent's ( as Silas called it ) arms was drenched in black from head to foot, the ability to distinguish between
ink and chalk and what Silas explained to be black, oily blood became all but the impossible. His pupils were nearly nonexistant, sharp
clumsy hands shaking uncontrollably alogn with the rest of his frail frame. Small nicks and scratches marred his arms and back, the source
of which no one seemed to know, coiled wire and cord 'hair' frayed and an overall disaster.
The way Meta described it was difficult to follow at first, interrupted by the forcing down of angry sobs and coughing from dust
inhalation, but soon she had calmed down and revealed whatever strange story she had to tell. She had been walking back to the Wing
after speaking with Silas about duty or some other such nonsense, and had run into Milo as he ran out of the previously hidden hole in the
wall. He'd been terrified, running around and grabbing things and throwing paper and ink and pencils and everything in sight.... and then,
after everything had been spilled or knocked over otherwise, he grabbed the broken nib of a half-rusted pen and started to scribble with
before-unseen rage. Meta described it as terrifying and unsettling beyond belief, but Epsilon -- and he felt rather guilty afterwards -- was
oddly curious to have been able to watch the incident as it happened.
It was himself, Silas, Belos, Meta, Stitches, and Milo in the Wing, the air deathly silent as Meta sat trying to calm the younger of
them. Obviously he said nothing, but then again, no one would have expected him to. They all stood in grim, confused silence, feeling
most useless.
Suddenly, there was the sound of heavy footsteps, and Epsilon glanced up towards the desk of the Wing that lead higher into the
tower. His eyes widened, and the others followed suit, save for Stitches and Meta, as they were too preoccupied with keeping Milo calm
to notice the shadowed figure slowly descending the uneven stairwell. Silas swallowed, Belos freezing up slightly. Both stood stock-still,
unwilling or unable to move. Epsilon took a deep breath.
Alpha's voice was cold, though more laced with concern than anger. " What... in the name of creation... happened? " he said slowly,
eyes dark and sharp. Meta looked up sharply, a scowl across her face. Stitches glanced back grimly, supporting Milo as Meta let her iron
grip on the child loosen. Determination in her eyes, she clenched her fists and stood.
" You! " she snarled. " You let this happen!! I warned you about this, I warned you, Stitches warned you, everyone told you this
would happened to him and you did nothing!! Look at what you've done, Alpha! " She flung a hand back, gesturing at Milo and Stitches.
The former cringed, eyes snapping shut in a pang of fear. Meta froze, then lowered her hand slowly, scowl turning to concern. She turned
back to Alpha, eyes narrowed. The leader said nothing, eyes moving from Meta to Milo and Stitches and then back again. He slowly
turned his gaze around the room, staring at the markings and scratches across the walls, the scattered papers and othe things. He closed
his eyes for a moment, then opened them with a flick.
" Take him up to the Loft. Belos, I want you at the scouting post. Silas and... Epsilon.... both of you. Follow me. "
Epsilon stared at him in confusion for a long moment, then looked towards Silas. His eyes were affixed on the older of them, steeled
and stiff. Belos swallowed, then took a few steps back and turned, running towards the platform. Meta let out a breath she apparently
had been holding, kneeling and gently picking Milo up. Stitches let her go, watching silently as they disappeared quickly towards the Loft
and left the four remaining. Alpha turned, beckoning with a hand.
" All three of you.... I need a word. Stitches.... "
The name looked up, eyes the same as Silas's.
" What was that? " Alpha's voice grew calm, though still concerned in a way Epsilon couldn't read. Stitches glanced at them as they
began to walk towards the desk, sighing.
" Don't play the fool's ace, Alpha, " he replied, keeping his voice a bit lower than usual. " It's Milo. He does these things, it happens.
Meta's just worried that -- "
" That what happened last time will repeat itself, " Alpha finished in a monotone. " Aren't we all? No, don't you tell me tales. Tell
me what happened. "
" I would if I bloody could! " Stitches replied exhasperatedly. Silas and Epsilon watched and listened in silence at Silas's suggestion,
though Epsilon doubted he would have had the ability to speak out anyways. " Milo's mind doesn't work the same way ours do, you know
that very well, now don't you? "
Alpha actually seemed to take offense at the sharp tone of the last statement, but waved it off dismissively. " Yes, I do. That's why
I know this wasn't just some routine little panic attack of his or some other such nonsensical gab. He went insane, attacked Meta, just
about got himself hurt, or worse. So I'm asking, and God above forbid you flat-facedly lie to me again. " He paused, glancing over his
shoulder at them, though the meneacingly cool glare was obviously directed to Stitches. Stitches frowned.
" Fine. I'll show you. " The creature glanced up at the desk before pushing his way past Alpha and grabbing one of the large handles
attatched to the drawers. He twisted it to the left, then pulled back with both hands sharply. There was a popping noise, the drawer
creaking open and then seeming to fall apart. The square front panel groaned and swung down, Stitches catching it with a surprisingly
firm hand before it could clatter to the ground. Stitches reached inside, grabbing a few stray sheets of paper etched with lines in
unsteady ink and dabbled with notes and letters and sketches. He pulled four, then five papers out, splaying them out on the hardwood
floor before the other three. Alpha's eyes, for the first time Epsilon had noticed, widened in what very well could have been shock.
The first two papers were covered in writing, neat and straight script, though Epsilon couldn't quite make it out. They were used to
their full extent, top to bottom and front to back, small indentions marking neat little paragraphs and definitions scattered throughout.
The third paper held nothing but a huge array of designs and sketchings, each bearing various symbols and markings like letters, only far
more elegant and intricately made. The fourth and fifth pages were far less crisp, tattered somewhat and splattered fervently with dried
ink and brownish-red splotches that Epsilon guessed to be more ink of a different color. There wasn't any particular image from this point
of view, but it didn't seem like a random attack of ink to paper.... it was more.... calculated. There was something there that he could
sense, but he couldn't see.
" This is what he does, every day. This is all of it.... the only others are down in the crate. There's nothing here but Milo, I swear it
to you on my life and sanity. " Stitches looked grim, stretching his arms in display and defeat as Alpha stared down at the sheets and
swallowed uneasily. Silas stepped forward, just a few inches from the leader.
" Please, Stitches, tell me these aren't -- "
" Visions? " Stitches said flatly. " I am afraid they are. This is how it has been for weeks.... I've lost him to himself, Alpha. He's
beginning to see the truth.... and it is killing him. "
Alpha and Silas looked up, then glanced at one another. Alpha shuttered his fingers uneasily, Silas looking down. Epsilon blinked,
glancing up at Stitches, then stepping forward and to the side of them to look down at the pictures. So chaotic, but there was order.
There was order, deep inside of it. He didn't know why, or how, but his mind slowly began to work and analyze and really think... why
would Milo draw something with such a deep purpose and make it appear so shallow and erratic? What was he protecting.....?
" Stitches.... Alpha... Silas... what...? I don't understand... "
Alpha looked over at him, eyes narrowing, and he took a breath. " Epsilon, what is the last thing you remember before waking up? "
The Wing fell deathly silent once again. Stitches blinked, Silas looking from Alpha to Epsilon with a curious expression. Epsilon
paused, mind working backwardss, rewinding all the way through the events of the last couple of days, to the attic, waking up the day
he had met Silas, and then waking the first time.....
Nothing. There was a void of complete and total nothing laying before he first opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling with new
confusion and the sudden, distasteful feeling of being ice cold and alone beyond measure. He blinked, shaking his head. It was a dizzying
thought, the idea of a total and absolute nothing.
" You have no idea, do you? " Alpha asked grimly. Silas's eyes narrowed, then widened slightly. Stitches remained totally still.
" I.... " Epsilon stopped. " No. Nothing.... just.... nothing. " Alpha looked continuously grim.
" You don't see anything? Or hear anything, feel anything at all? "
" No. "
" Smell, taste, nothing. "
" Nothing. "
Silas glanced around, Sitches stared, Alpha took a long, slow breath. Epsilon swallowed, suddenly feeling alone and put up against
the wall. " I don't understa-- "
" You're not supposed to. Not at first... that was the intent. The intent was to learn, which is what you are doing and have been
doing, " Alpha began quietly. " You woke long after everyone else did, you have no memory of anything, no knoweledge of whatever
happened in that room before you came into conciousness.... " More a statment than a question, and one that didn't need to be answered,
at that. Epsilon said nothing, feeling uneasy.
" You think differently. You question everything and leave nothing unexplained.... You can sense things, things some of the others
are unable to detect. Epsilon, hold up your arm, please, " Alpha said, his voice lowering another notch almost to the point of a whisper.
Epsilon swallowed, slowly lifting his arm up, thin wrist outwards, then faded scrawl of letters written on his skin seeming a little bolder
and a little darker in the tense emotion of the room. Alpha narrowed his eyes, and Silas swallowed.
" Damn.... " the older muttered, turning away suddenly and beginning to walk back and forth, pacing with a scowl. Epsilon blinked
confusedly.
" Alpha... is it... ? "
" I wouldn't be worried if it wasn't, Silas, " the addressed replied coldly. " I have few doubts. I'll have to ask Delta... but... "
" Will somone please explain what's going on?! " Epsilon finally said in exhasperation. The other three looked up at him sharply,
silent. Epsilon looked from Silas to Alpha, pleading with his eyes. Alpha glanced back, then blooked back at Epsilon grimly.
" Epsilon, do you understand any of this? The world, how it came to be this way, what happened before you woke? " he said. Epsilon
paused, then slowly shook his head. Alpha nodded. " There is a reason you woke so much later. Let me start at the beginning.... "
Alpha nodded at Silas and turned beginning to walk away. Stitches swallowed and started after him, Silas walking over and putting a
hand on Epsilon's shoulder. He smiled slightly, jerking his head after them, and the two of them followed. The four of them made their
way across the room, finally stopping where a large, ragged curtain had fallen from its place and blocked off most of the far part of the
room. Alpha lifted his hand, revealing the long bladed staff, and pushed a section of the cloth out of the way. Stitches and Silas ducked
in, Epsilon hesitating, then following. He looked up and straightened, eyes widening. He stopped.
The part of the room they were in now was smaller than the rest of the wing, a single corner of the room that formed a sort of square
with the curtain and the walls. Shelves relative to their size ( for once ) lined the walls up to three or four feet, cluttered with various
objects and items of no known origin that Epsilon could tell. The floor was sheeted with scraps of paper, though neatly stacked up,
a table made of two small crates off to the side covered in various parts and pieces of things Epsilon couldn't identify. Maps and books
piled up in the corners, various titles scrawled across the bindings, languages that Epsilon didn't understand. He stared around the
room in awe, swallowing nervously. As amazing at it was, he felt something... something dark. Something wrong.
Alpha read his mind. " You're still nervous. You feel it too, don't you? " he said quietly. Epsilon lowered his gaze, nodding and
stepping forward to look around the room again. Silas and Stitches stayed near the entrance, silent and obviously in the same state of
unease.
" It's like... there's something here... something bad... " he murmered, walking slowly through the piles and stacks and staring at
them. Diagrams, scientific notes, drawings,w riting, books, articles, anything literary could be found. A leatherbound journal seemed to
be the focal point of the organized disaster, spiral binding opened to a spread of papers covered in more writing, more diagrams. Epsilon
stared down at the paper, eyes flicking from word to word. Science... projects..... hope.... Eps--
Epsilon staggered backwards with a gasp, shrinking away from the book. Alpha walked towards him slowly, reaching out a putting
a firm hand on his shoulder. " You can read that, can't you. " Another statement. Epsilon nodded dumbly.
" My name... " he murmered. Alpha nodded, stepping up onto the book platform and turning the page. Epsilon slowly climbed up,
staring down at the parchment of the journal. Across the next spread of pages was a large diagram spattered with notes, sketches,
smudges of ink. Alpha tapped the book with the blunt end of his staff, lining it across the bottom of the page. There, along the bottom of
the page....
" Read it. "
Epsilon swallowed, staring at the letters. " Epsilon.... 13.... 12-7... " he said slowly, not for lack of understanding but for lack of
nerve. Alpha tapped it, then flipped the staff into the air and caught it upright. He slammed it onto the ground shortly, making the
shelves shed puffs of dust. The pages of the journal seemed to suddenly move of their own accord, raising and flipping six or seven toward
the beginning. Epsilon jumped, staring down at the new page. It too was scrawled with a diagram... and another name....
Alpha.
The drawing was rough but easily recognizeable. Epsilon swallowed, reading along the bottom silently. Alpha... 3... 1-16.... A name
and a label. What was the label for, what could it mean...?
Alpha stepped down from the platform. " Do you understand what it means? " he asked quietly. Epsilon paused, then shook his head.
" We are not here of any random happening, Epsilon. We were placed here for a purpose, placed here to do something important. We
have yet to figure out what, but nevertheless. "
" What.... what exactly is your point in telling me this? " Epsilon asked, glancing at Silas and Stitches. Silas sighed, stepping forward
and looking uneasily at the journal.
" Epsilon..... let me put it this way. Years ago, the humans -- the things I told you about earlier -- they were everywhere. They ruled
the planet. They created everything that wasn't from the earth itself.... But some of them... some of the humans wanted power. Wanted
everything. They started to argue, then fight, then battle, and eventually it bacame what they called a War. They fought each other to
the death, for anything they could get.... The world was ablaz, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. "
" But not all of the humans wanted war, " Stitches added quietly. " Some of them wanted the war to end once and for all.... but as
Silas said, no one could stop those who were in power. It would be like Milo going up against Divex, a grain of sand against a boulder.
But the people remaining outside the fight knew they had to do something. So... one day.... they decided on what. "
Epsilon swallowed, looking at all three of them. " What.. what did they do? "
" They found a way to escape the battle.... escape the bloodspilling once and for all, " Alpha said, turning and stepping up onto a pile
of books, then leaping into a small hanging platform and gripping the rail as it swung precariously. He set the staff down, grabbing the
rope and cranking it through its pulleys. " The humans who actually wanted the war to end and were prepared to try and stop it were few
an d far between.... scattered throughout the remains of the world, " he said as he pulled. " But they were smart. They were strong...
and stubborn. They vowed not to give up until they had at least an idea, a plan. And thus... they began to think. "
Alpha was higher now, almost to the ceiling. He stopped, stepping up onto the railing and leaping. Epsilon blinked as he flew,
landing with a thud on top of one of the beams holding up the wall. A board had been firmly nailed into place there, providing a much
wider landing surface that the beam itself would. He straightened, staring down at them. Suddenly, Alpha appeared quite a bit more
intimidating. Epsilon swallowed.
" The humans hid themselves in colonies, gathering at night in old buildings or even underground so they could put their best minds
together and try and think of a way to help. Somehow, through this insanity, they started thinking about the end of the war, what would
happen after... or if there would be an after. Then, they started thinking, 'hey, maybe we shouldn't worry about the war at hand -- maybe
we should worry about how we're going to survive it,' " Silas said, stepping up onto the book next to Epsilon.
" Their only problem was, they couldn't. The pollution had destroyed the natural resources of the world, the guns and fighting had
destroyed homes and anything else, the water was a waste of time, the soil was polluted. Overall, the humans knew they could not live
through the war, " Alpha continued. He turned, grabbing onto something and throwing his arms out, something dark and billowy
exploding from behind him on the beam. Epsilon stared up as a seemingly endless roll of thin, wispy cloth flowed down, covering most of
the wall and settling against the wood, black and bold red and white striping along the edges, the wrinkles of the odd fabric making it
difficult to decipher the huge insignia on the banner. Stitches walked over, grabbing one side and giving it a sharp tug. The fabric billowed
again, then settled, spread out flat against the wall and various surfaces. Epsilon squinted slightly in the dim light of the room, then his
eyes widened, and he staggered back. To his surprise, even Silas seemed confused and a little disturbed by the image splayed across the
wall.
Even though Epsilon had seen it only once, and the image was distorted somewhat, the shadowy figure painted on the banner in
bold red and black and glowing acidic yellow was a familiar view. The insignia was simply an image of the monstrous creature, back to
them, glancing over its shoulder sideways with glowing red eyes. The cloak ended where the banner did, one forelimb stretched to the
right, huge claws curling up and holding something inside of them like a cage. Acid greenish-yellow liquid seemed to drip down the beast's
forearm from within the cage of metallic scythe-claws, and Epsilon shuddered. Silas stepped back cautiously.
" Alpha... what is... what is this?!" he asked incredulously. Alpha stood on the edge of the board, arms folded, a grim look on his face
as he stared down at them. Stitches hooked the edge of the fabric around a nail, climbing onto a nearby stack of books and crawling his
way up them until he was half as high as Alpha. He reached up, grabbing a thin length of rope that dangling from the ceiling. Looking
around, Epsilon noticed that there were others, ropes hanging here and there, some of them marked with small scraps of paper tied around
them at the bottom. There was a low creak, then a snap, and Epsilon and Silas snapped their gazes upwards.
A white bundle that had been strapped to one of the ceiling beams unfolded suddenly, a crinkling noise sounding as the heavy
material of a second banner tied up with rope snapped open, rolling out and stopping short of the floor behind Epsilon and Silas. They
both jolted, turning around and staring up. Stitches hopped down, crawling up onto the book they stood on and straightening.
The second banner was what appeared to be a huge scroll of canvas, almost the height of the ceiling to the floor. Written on it in
much larger script, the same as in the journal almost, were hundreds of names, at least a hundred or so. They were numbered, from 1
all the way down to a number so severely crammed to the bottom of the paper that it was unrecognizeable.
" Alpha... this is.... this isn't... " Silas murmered, reaching out and touching the thick cloth surface uneasily, then drawing back. Alpha
gave a short nod in silence, then grabbed onto one of the myriad ropes and slid to the floor with a whisking noise. He grabbed the staff
from the platform as it slid down after him walking slowly over beside them, though still on the floor below rather than the stack of books.
" It's the Roster. "
Epsilon looked at Silas, eyes moving down to Alpha. " Roster?.... "
" A list of names, " Silas said quietly. " Of attendees... "
" Attendees... of what? " Epsilon asked slowly. Silas took a stiff breath, shoulders tense. Alpha stared at the canvas, furrowing his
brow silently for a moment. Stitches clasped his hands.
" These are the names of the last.... of... " Silas began, sounding cold, voice rough. He coughed, taking a shuddery breath. " This is
the list of the last humans. Of the ones.... who started the Project. " He trailed off sounding emotional. Epsilon said nothing as Alpha
continued.
" Everyone who was involved signed their names on this roster, this list.... they were the very last of the humans who were fighting
against the war. They, Epsilon, " Alpha began, voice low as he glanced toward the curtain uneasily. Stitches sighed sadly. " Are the ones
who created all of us... and many, many more. "
Epsilon stared at the paper, something in his mind suddenly clicking. " The numbers... next to the pictures in the journal, and our
names... they were the same numbers as on this, weren't they? " he said suddenly. " The people.... They all had numbers.... " His eyes
widened. Alpha stared at him grimly, nodding.
" Every capable human being was chosen and placed on this list. And everyone on this list was given a number at random... they
organized them, and once everyone knew the final decision, they began to work on what they called the Project, " Alpha explained quietly.
" The Project wa their last hope... their last chance to fix what the people of power had done to this world. "
Silas closed his eyes, looking downward, and Stitches stepped forward, placing a hand on the paper, one spindly finger tracing down
the names with a grim look. So depressing, so dark... Epsilon knew that there was something Alpha had not yet explained... although,
considering the state of the rest of this news...
" Alpha... if every one of the people on this list had a number... if every one of them... made one of us... then why are there so many
names and so few of us? " Epsilon asked slowly, cautiously, not sure if he wanted a truthful reply. Stitches swallowed, biting his lip and
looking down. Alpha looked at the paper, then gestured for Epsilon to come down. He slid off the pile of books, staring at the list.
" That, Epsilon, is what we've been trying to figure out ever since we found this place, " Alpha said quietly. " Silas, Divex, Stitches,
Xay, and myself were the first. Then Delta, and Meta and then Belos... then Milo. He was the last before Silas brought you back. That
was a long time ago though.... almost two and a half years. We knew there would be another.... but we didn't know which one. And
whether it would be an original... or something else... "
" An original... that's what Silas called me... what do you mean, something else? "
Silas glanced at Alpha with a warning look on his face. Alpha waved him away. " I believe that's something to be explained another
day... it's been an eventful morning. Stitches, I'm sure you'd like to go and check up with Meta and Milo. Silas, Epsilon... " He trailed off.
" You two should probably go out and make sure that Divex isn't killing himself with those barriers... " he murmered.
" Barriers... " Silas muttered, pausing. he blinked. " Oh... the electricity fences... blast... " He stepped down from the books, rubbing
the back of his neck with a sigh and silently heading towards the curtain again. He shouldered under it and disappeared, Stitches slipping
out after him. Alpha sighed, turning and giving Epsilon a solemn look before ushering him out as well. He was reluctant to leave, brain
working furiously to try and decipher the vast amount of information he had just recieved, but he didn't press. It was already a dark,
depressing enough atmosphere..... his pleading would doubtfully help. Or recieve any attention. He followed Alpha towards the platform,
glancing at the shadowy corner and swallowing. From the outside and the darkness shrouding it, it was nearly invisible. Barely enough
so to truly hide it, but enough to draw away attention.
" Epsilon... " Alpha said quietly, nudging him. Epsilon looked up sharply. " I would highly prefer you keep this between the four of us.
If you don't mind... " he said, giving him a sharp look before turning and heading off down one of the myriad side hallways. Epsilon stared
after him, the silence acting as an affirmative answer. It was several long minutes before he registered Silas calling for him with moderate
aggravation, and another moment before he actually moved. He swallowed backing up a few steps, then turning and running towards the
rickety platform, glancing back at the ominous curtain and still trying to sift through whatever it was he had just experienced.