"Something isn't right." Sigma shifted his view from the fire up towards the night sky. His internal processors had generally been running low to avoid detection, but they were still powerful enough to latch onto some of the billions of wireless signals floating through the air around him. His mind was always buzzing, always calculating and intercepting and translating, always committing itself to doing as many different tasks as it could. Sigma had just gotten used to letting it run in the background of his more conscious thoughts.

There had been a spike though, a little moment where things didn't click correctly. A little morsel of information, a scrap, about a war zone near the Enian-Artisan border. It sat and nestled itself into Sigma's brain, quickly demanding attention. He would give it that attention.

"What's not right?" Doctor Roth prodded the fire a little bit with a stick, watching sparks shoot up in response. "Nothing's wrong with the fire. I've been making them quite a lot when I was on the run. I think I can control it."

"No...something else. Further away."

"Oh." Roth continued to play with the coals and the flames they produced in silence now, not wishing to interfere with another of Sigma's internal conflicts.

"I have received no orders of any confrontations that we must engage in." Allyson said, her eyes scanning Sigma in curiosity.

"You don't receive any orders Allyson because you cannot receive them." Leif glanced at her father, who had disabled Alpha's communication network with the Eastern United States, the country she had been supposed to be sold to. She couldn't get any other orders from anyone else either, including Christian, in case they tried to reach out to her. She only listened to Sigma, automatically interpreting him to be a superior officer because of his length of activation and his leadership. "I don't like what's going on in the world right now."

"Nobody likes what's going on in the world," Roth spat, a little anger at himself mixed in. "But what are you going to do? We're fugitives, we're on the run, and we're trying to lay low for the next while. We can't just go out every time you think something bad is happening."

"We aren't going anywhere." Sigma stood and began walking through the forest towards the edge of the island. He had been here almost every day, spending an hour standing with the sand on his feet and the waves washing over his legs, wondering what that must have felt like once in his life. Today was different though. This time he would stand on the beach and gaze out over the black ocean, watching it meld with the star-studded sky above. And he would make a decision. "I am the only one going anywhere. I have to. But I will return again."

A streak of purple shot up into the air, and Roth watched it fade away. "That boy just can't get his head on straight." The doctor saw Allyson staring up as well, her eyesight able to see Sigma in incredible detail far beyond what Roth's human eyes could glimpse.

"Doctor, where is Leif going?" Roth's head perked up upon hearing the question. As much as Sigma had attempted to explain the past to Alpha, she had never reiterated it once before, and she certainly hadn't ever called Sigma by his real name before. What was going on with these androids?

* * * * *

McCormack rolled out of the way of a charging Bahari, watching the mutated monster fly past him and crash into another Goliath, tearing into it with tooth and claw. That was the first time at which the general had finally recognized that the Jahari might have actually been a bit more than a myth. It took one of their creations lunging for him before he realized that this wasn't just another battle between the political powers at the top.

Down on the ground the Jahari were running rampant through the Enian and Artisan lines, their hulking forms needing multiple soldiers and tanks just to remove one of them. There were other Jahari interspersed with the familiar, Major Orellia-type. Some were mutated into lengthy, spindly beings that zipped around, ripping off heads and snapping bones at blistering speeds. Still others were such aberrations that McCormack couldn't stand to look at them for longer than a second.

The Enian general twisted as a Bahari claw narrowly passed by his face. His pistols were out in his hands, their golden finish glittering in the light as he twirled them. With a bang, he dropped the first Bahari he encountered, a well-placed shot in the head sending it toppling to the ground...only for it to rise right back up again. The beast seemed only mildly irritated by the attack, knocked down only from force and not from death. So a second bullet was unloaded through its face. This time it stood its ground and twitched in agony for a moment before the pain vanished once more.

"You're just unyielding bastards aren't you? I should introduce you to an old man I know. Runs our army. You'd get along great." McCormack unloaded a clip from each of his pistols throughout the Bahari's body, noting when he connected with the heart in the centre the monster crumpled rather quickly. "But even unyielding bastards have a weakness somewhere I suppose."

"On your right dear," Irina's voice cut through the general's musings. He sidestepped in response to the information, seeing a frenzied Bahari fly past him and crash into the back of an Artisan Goliath. McCormack watched patiently while the creature tore into the Artisan with glee. No point in having an unfair fight. Nobody would glorify you for winning unfair fights. As soon as the beast spun around though, it met a shot through it's massive red heart and it toppled onto the remains of the Artisan Goliath.

"Thank you my love." McCormack sprinted off through the battlefield, listening carefully for Irina's warning and instructions. Her foresight was invaluable, when she chose to share it, and McCormack was willing to accept assistance from someone else, even if later he wouldn't admit to it. The Enian general rolled out of the way of a screaming Bahari that charged past him, firing off a couple of shots into its back that he knew would not harm it.

Up above, one of the flying worms had latched onto a warship, slowly devouring it with its massive jaw. Portions of the ship broke off as it was destroyed raining down onto the battlefield around McCormack, and he weaved in between, sprinting around in an effort to avoid conflict while taking out any Bahari he had a chance for. His role as a general was not forgotten as he travelled, and he found himself pulling his troops out of the way of attacks and directing them into formations.

"Well well McCormack," came a voice over the public radio network. The general spun around to face a drooling Bahari standing tall. It was almost a head higher than him and the tiny eyes in its head were straining to look down. Blood dripped from a crack in its forehead, catching McCormack's attention. He saw that the blood was part of a line that ran straight down the monster's face, connecting with its chest and ending all the way down at its legs. The general reached forward and touched the creature, its flesh soft and squishy. As soon as he did, the Bahari split in two, separated by the line and its body fell into two equal halves on the ground.

"Oh of course," McCormack muttered, displeased with the sight.

"Over here you lug." McCormack turned to see the source of the voice, confirming his fears and suspicions. It was General Tourac of the Artisan Confederate, sitting on the shoulder of his Mongoose-class battlesuit. He was holding a radio in his hand so that he could speak with McCormack or, more specifically, to taunt him.

"You just had to be called out to this war didn't you?" McCormack sighed, putting away his pistols as he approached his rival. Tourac was known as the Dazzling Blade of the Artisan army, and artist with the sword who used his simple to create awe-inspiring displays on the battlefield. All around his Goliath were the pieces of mutilated Baharis, enemies he had carved as part of his show. He was also known to hog the spotlight just as much as one pilot of the Western Sun.

"Well the Artisans actually wanted to win this fight and so they knew that would require me seeing as how you and your army are barely even capable of turning on your machines."

"I thought in order to win we would need to shoot first and do silly little dances later," McCormack smiled inside the cockpit, high-fiving himself for his excellent insult of the Artisan culture.

Tourac stood up from the shoulder of his warmachine, brushing off some of the dirt being kicked up around him by the ongoing fights. He calmly stepped inside his Goliath's head, keeping his composure after McCormack's statement. "Standard rules then?" he asked as he sat down in his cockpit.

"Duel to the death?"

"Indeed."

McCormack pulled up a file buried in his Goliath's mainframe and put a mark on it. He eyed all the old marks, tallying them in his head. This would be their fourth duel to the death, with Tourac leading two to one so far. "I wish to make an amendment to this fight." McCormack withdrew his pistols as Tourac pulled his sword out of the ground where he had stuck it.

"Proceed." Tourac wiped down his blade with a cloth attached to the side of his battlesuit. It was a necessity to keep his weapon in sparkling condition, and McCormack did the same on his own guns.

"Let it also be that whoever gets the highest kill total during the fight will gain an additional victory towards the count."

Tourac pondered the suggestion for a while. "Accepted." McCormack knew that neither of them would ever pass up a chance to show-off even more. "Let us see if you have improve since the last time I humiliated you."

* * * * *

Porter sat silently in a chair in Mr. Shotuku's empty classroom. Chase was outside of it, awaiting his turn to potentially be beaten senseless by the elder teacher. Mr. Shotuku sat at his desk, his ancient eyes staring out from between his mounds of wrinkles. The two had been in the space for nearly an hour, with not one word spoken between them.

Finally, the teacher stood up from his chair, slowly pushing it back as his ageing body rose. He waved at the door, dismissing Porter wordlessly. Confused, the youth did as he was directed and took his leave, scratching his head in bewilderment. "What did he say?" Chase shot out of his seat as soon as the door had slid closed behind Porter.

"Nothing," Porter whispered. "And it was the scariest nothing I've ever heard." Chase stared at Porter as the pilot wandered down the hall towards his room before the door opened and Mr. Shotuku beckoned him inside.

Something about what had happened in that room, about what Shotuku had not said, resonated with Porter. The teacher had been angry, that much could be seen, but there was also an aura of understanding around him. While Porter had not been allowed to explain himself, Mr. Shotuku seemed to know everything already. Perhaps he had been monitoring them or maybe he had such a mastery over chi that he could sense Porter's feelings. Was that even possible?

"Hi Porter!" Porter nearly flipped backwards as Nami dropped from the ceiling and landed on her feet like a cat. "Where were you mister?" Nami struck up a pose, hand on hip and poked her finger into Porter's chest as though he were in a murder interrogation.

"Nowhere important," Porter muttered, pushing the girl aside as he continued his walk. As Porter had learned over his time at the academy, it would take much more than a simple shove to remove Nami from his person.

"So like...maybe Riya's room important?" Nami giggled until a dark glare from Porter silenced her. "Well you missed a bowling game so it must've been big. And chase wasn't here either." Nami gasped, a devilish thought coming into her mind. "Were you trying to steal him away from me Porter? Come on, admit that you're jealous I chose Chase over you and now you want to make me jealous by taking him from me. That's right isn't it? You know it is."

Porter stopped in the hallway, legitimately stupefied by the absurdity of the question before shaking his head and moving onwards. "Porter, it's no fun if you don't tell me. Well actually it is kind of fun guessing. I think I'm getting warmer. I'm getting warmer right?" the teen ignored her constant chatter, arriving at his room and stepping inside. "What 'cha doing mister? Don't you remember we have a new class to go to? Like right now. You're going to be late if you hang out in here." Porter stopped in shock, withdrawing a folded paper he had stuffed into his pocket that explained his new class. He smashed his head against his wall in frustration grabbing his books and electronic notepad, and picking up Nami to carry her under his arm as he sprinted down the hall.

There was a loud crash outside the class and the door hissed as it opened to show Porter in a twisted pile with Nami sitting on top of him, completely unharmed. "We made it," she exclaimed, hopping off Porter and bouncing over to her seat. Porter managed to untangle himself and drag his injured body to his chair, climbing into a seat next to Chase. The hothead was sporting some fresh bruises from his personal chat with Mr. Shotuku and he eyed Porter with envy.

"What happened to you Chase?"

"What happened to me? What happened to you? You said he didn't say anything."

"He didn't!"

"He didn't stop saying things to me and then I was saying things to him and then slippers started flying everywhere and I don't want to talk about it." Porter smirked to himself, feeling a little better about his own visitation since he had come out unscathed. There was a bustling at the front as the new teacher came in, accompanied by Mr. Toriyama. Six of the students in the class instantly recognized the hulking man who was to be conducting the class.

"Hello all," Mr. Toriyama gave them a little wave at the front before clearing his throat. "This will be your new professor for this particular class, Professor..."

"Ochenkov," came the gruff answer.

"Right Professor Ochenkov then. He will be instructing you on survival-ism and its applications during war." Mr. Toriyama backed away from the bear of a man slowly, showing great fear of such an intimidating person, leaving the students alone with their new teacher.

Ochenkov turned and began to write his name on the board, using his finger to manipulate the computer screen. He then continued to scrawl "survival-ism" but stopped midway through, struggling with a language that was not his first. "Hey ogre," Chase shouted out, snickering to himself and to his cronies. "How are you going to teach it if you can't even spell it?" Chase burst out laughing in his chair, giving out high-fives to his companions in his vicinity. A blur flew through the air and smashed into Chase's face, sticking in his forehead and leaving the teen teetering in his chair for a moment before he collapsed backwards onto the ground.

A rock clattered to the ground next to Chase's near-dead corpse, and the class looked from the downed teen to the front and back again. "Where did he even get a rock from?" "Did you even see him move?" "Is there any teacher in this school who doesn't throw stuff at students?" Three more stones whipped through the air, knocking out the chattering students and leaving them all on the ground with eyes spinning.

"In class, you will learn needed skills. Is important to watch close. Not talk." Ochenkov gave a glance to each of the members of the Crisis Rescue Unit, exchanging an understanding with all of them, including Chase who was groggily sitting up once more. "Good. Let us begin class."

* * * * *

Sigma slowed down as he flew close to the battlefield, ending up hovering above the warships. His eyesight could pick out the tiniest details on the ground below while his supercomputer mind hacked into the different satellites and monitoring systems nearby in order to get a complete picture. He could see every angle and every aspect of the war below him, scanning through the Jahari forces as they battled the combined Artisan and Enian armies.

The android felt a twinge of anger rising up in him, a human component of him that still lingered in his mind. His memories, the ones Syn and Dr. Roth had helped unlock, were all a reminder of his purpose, of why he was constructed. The Enigma Soldier and the Jahari went hand in hand, one designed to counter the other. This was the goal of his existence, his raison d'être. Ultimately it was his job to defeat the Jahari, to gain control over them and to fulfil the desires of the Emperor.

"Is it hard, Sigma, to avoid your calling?" Syn drifted by, floating on his back as though swimming in a pool. "Do you find it difficult to keep yourself from this place or was it all too easy to give in." Syn inspected one of his sharpened fingers, knocking a speck of dirt from it. "I was here as soon as I heard the voices in my head, the little whispers at the edges of consciousness that wanted me. The very same ones that beckoned to you. And you answered."

"What do you want Syn?" Sigma felt the energy coursing through his body, flowing down towards the tips of his fingers, his weapons charging.

"I don't want anything. Well no, that's a lie." Syn smiled, doing a little twirl in the air. "I want lots of things but not in any particular order. I can't say I want one thing more than another or in particular, just that I want things. I want the world to burn. I want my hands around your throat. I want to make love to you Sigma. I want to slaughter every person and being beneath us. I want to be free. You cannot ask such generalized questions and just expect an answer. I want what so many other people want. I want my wants to not be wants anymore. I want them to be fulfilled. You understand, correct?" Sigma gave no answer, staring at the cyborg with distaste. "Fine, I'm here for the Jahari, same as you. I have an overwhelming urge to kill them, more so than usual you know. I want to bathe in their blood, to feel their flesh between my fingers. I'm sure you would understand in my position."

"I won't ever understand you Syn."

"No? But you can be like me Sigma. You can. Oh how you can. Let me show you how you can be like me. Let me play a game with you."

"No."

"I don't know if you have a choice Sigma. Not a choice at all." Syn flipped around so that he was vertical in the air, though hanging upside down. "You shall play this game with me. These are the rules. I will go down there and I will kill everything and every person. I don't care who they belong to or what side they fight for. I will kill each and every one of them." Syn opened an eye lazily to make sure Sigma was still in front of him and paying attention. "However, if you can kill every single Jahari, or at least until they all run away like the little animals they are, I will stop. It is so simple! Kill all the Jahari before I kill everything. It's a race, a race, I demand a race!"

"You're insane."

"And you are too! We're all insane. Let the insanity overtake your brain Sigma. Let it seep down into your body, into your muscles and your nerves. Let it control you, corrupt you, enlighten you. It will take you places you have never been before and through all the memories you thought you had forgotten. Let us race, Sigma. Let us race." And with that Syn dropped from the sky like a bomb, shooting downwards to begin his festival of slaughter.

"Dammit Syn," Sigma muttered.

A/N: Let the dark games begin! Sigma and Syn will gamble thousands of lives while McCormack and Tourac settle old rivalries? And Ochenkov is now a teacher?! What else could happen next?