The Senior Researcher stared at his watch. Well into the night. Naturally, he was tired. He had spent nearly the entire day at L:26. He had spent the entire day preparing for this ritual. Apparently, his higher-ups had unearthed the remains of The Gray Sisters and were looking to reincarnate them. At least, that's what he got from the scattered and redacted reports. This would be interesting. In the room in front of him, three scientists worked. They seemed to work tirelessly, fixing ancient bones and flesh together. He watched breathlessly as they began to attach electrical wires to the 6-foot-tall body. The scientists looked at the Researcher. He nodded. A scientist pulled a lever, and electrical energy flooded through the wires, making contact with the bare skin of the newly created body. The body spasmed, then fell back onto the hard table. Then, again. And again. And again. A nearby display beeped, a single line forming a line that jerked up and down. Slowly, it began to steady. Another display began to display an image of a brain, lights flashing through it. At that moment, the eyes of the body opened. The Researcher watched in shock, curiosity, and horror.
About a month later, the as-of-yet "human" sat across a shorter man in a sparsely furnished white room. He was dressed in a white suit, with accents of yellow created by his gold-rimmed glasses and yellow tie.
"So, I suppose you're wondering why you were created?" He asked the figure in front of him, dressed in a simple tank top and jeans. Their shirt looked small compared to the bulging muscles.
"Why?" The figure had a naturally soft voice, compared to their muscles, general height, and abs.
"We wanted to create something good. Something to protect us. See, our AITs are well-equipped and capable fighters, but they are squishy." The Director paused. "You know what that means?" The figure stayed quiet. "I'll take that as a no. It means they can't handle many attacks without armor. But you can. And luckily, we have a mission for you. To protect us."
"You see, we have a bit of a problem with this group. I believe our psions have helped you find these people?" He turned his computer around, revealing a blurry picture of three figures walking away from a body leaning over a desk. The "person" looked at the footage. They stared at the three figures. One was dressed in a long green shirt, another in a wide blue hat, and the last in a yellow dress.
"Yes. Your psions have informed me of these people. But why do you want me to destroy them?" The "human" looked up from the screen at the Director.
"Well, these renegades, we call 'em The Grey Eye crew, have been hurting our installations. Installations that can make more people like you."
"You can make others like me?"
The Director paused. "Unfortunately, not yet. The Grey Eye crew destroyed the plants. They're scared of us, of you. We first had interactions with them when they killed the C-, ah, leader of one of our front companies." The Director pulled up an image of a morgue report, showing a man with his eyes closed, almost sleeping. "They always show up before the subject is killed, usually with a warning." The Director looked at the figure. "Hopefully, that's when you come in and BAM!" The Director shot a finger gun at the figure. "No more troublemakers. What do you say?"
"Yes."
"Good. Shake on it?" The Director held out his hand. the figure reached over and shook the Director's hand. Their own was clammy and cold.
