Ilunga:
(n) a person who is ready to forgive abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time.
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"Pearl, what are you doing out here by yourself in the middle of the night?" a deep, gravelly voice boomed.

Clinging onto the cold stone wall underneath the balcony, I closed my eyes, willing her not to say something stupid. The cold night wind tugged at my hair and coat, chilling me right through to the bone. I tightened my grip on the narrow ledge, ignoring the cramp starting to pulse through my arms to my already numb fingers.

"Sorry, Professor. I was just having trouble sleeping, so I decided to come out here to get some fresh air," Pearl replied innocently.

I could just imagine her cornflower blue eyes wide and sincere, gleaming like diamonds in the soft moonlight, a small smile dancing on her lips coloured like cherry blossom petals. Just now she would be tucking her silky hair, which reminded me of swirls of buttermilk running down her back, behind her ears, something I had noticed she did when she was nervous.

The man fell easily for her angelic features, instantly transforming his previous intimidating voice into one of reassurance and care. "It's okay. Is there anything we can do to help you sleep?"

"Oh no, it's fine, I'm okay now," she smiled. I heard his heavy footsteps leave the balcony and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that soon I could let go of this damn ridge.

"Goodnight, Ebony," a soft voice whispered. A small smile ghosted my lips, which I neither expected nor wanted to happen. What was wrong with me? She was the enemy!

Once I was sure she had left, I pulled myself back up onto the balcony and ran a hand through my hair, sighing heavily. I could feel the accusing gaze of the stars above me, winking and twinkling at me knowingly.

The inky black sky above was better than any software imitation. There were lighter patches, clusters of faint and bold light, the constellations altered according to the time of year. These were the same stars that greeted the ancients, the same ones that would be there in millions of years.

Without my glasses the starry night was a brilliant Van Gogh, everything bigger and brighter, blurred in the most fantastic way. Just gazing at the midnight blue canvas above stole every thought from my mind, the usual carousel of worries simply forgotten.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed there, staring at the night sky, before remembering my siblings on the roof above me. Dragging my eyes away from the dot-to-dot I was creating from the stars, I quickly secured the rope around my waist and pulled myself up the side of the building, clambering onto the top, where my brothers and sisters were sleeping quietly.

I stared at them, my eyes filling with tears. It was the worst feeling in the world, knowing you weren't wanted. Ever since we were babies, we had fought for survival against all the odds. The scientists behind Project Genesis never expected us to survive, let alone find a way to Earth.

But we proved them wrong. And we will, time and time again. No matter what they throw at us, we will overcome it. Because the best thing about being evil, is that you don't have to pretend to be good. If they're going to treat us like savages, then we'll burn them to the ground.

We were purely evil after all.

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Sitting in a ring in a large abandoned warehouse the next village along from the Genesis research facility, unbeknownst to everyone in the compound, were the seven members of the NUPHC - the National Union for the Protection of the Human Condition.

The corrugated iron roof was domed some twenty-five feet above them, like a shanty-town cathedral. The grain was piled high at the far end and for the farm rats it was a free-for-all. At the other end were the packed sacks of grain ready for distribution.

The children who had lived on the farm nearby had always loved to stamp, clap and shout to hear the echo in the warehouse and when it rained it sounded like a million maracas, like all the percussionists in the world had got together to play on the roof.

But now they had all grown up and left the farm, attracted by the bright lights of the cities, and the warehouse stood empty and cold, only occasionally used for storing grain during the harvest season.

And, of course, for meetings of the NUPHC. Like now.

The man in the brown overcoat leaned slowly back in his chair, the loud squeaking noise echoing through the warehouse.

"So," he began. "We have just received news that the Light Spirits have been evacuated from Halka and brought here to Earth. They are currently staying at the facility with the rest of the Genesis Project team."

These words caused excitement to ripple around the circle as people shared glances with each other and shifted in their seats.

The lady with the short fuchsia hair addressed the group. "This means tonight is the night we have been preparing for. Tonight is the night we shall bring down the Genesis Project once and for all!"

The group clapped enthusiastically, and she sat back in her chair, smiling.

The thin man with closely cropped grey-tinged hair stood up, twisting his hands around anxiously. "Is that really wise?" he asked. "We don't have all the information, and there's probably some pretty high security at that place, that we don't know about. We should wait."

"No." The man in the brown coat spoke again. "We must act now."

The grey-haired man sat down slowly, his eyes darting around the group. He looked like he wanted to say something, but stayed silent instead, clenching the sides of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The young woman with a chestnut coloured wavy bob leaned forward, pushing her glasses further up her nose. "We have calculated the risks, and have been monitoring the compound for weeks. It is possible, but it will be dangerous. All of you must be prepared to die for the cause."

"But what a magnificent cause to die for," announced the man in the brown overcoat; he was obviously the leader of the group. "The Human Condition is not a disease that can be cured - it is a beautiful display of adaptation and is essential for human survival. In short, it is what makes us humans, instead of mindless drones."

The lady with the fuchsia hair nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward in her seat. "Those mutations are nothing more than robots, created by delusional men trying to destroy the peace of the earth."

"But," started the anxious grey-haired man, "what about the other half of the experiment? The Dark Spirits? We can't fight against them - we don't know what they're like."

"Both Halka and Gadha was destroyed a few hours after the Light Spirits were evacuated to Earth," declared the brown-haired woman with glasses. "There's no evidence to suggest they survived."

The man in the brown coat stood up. "We must act tonight, while they are under emergency measures. Once they have placed the Light Spirits in a permanent safe compound, it will be much more difficult to get to them."

You could have lit the excitement in the room with a dying ember and seen it burn like kerosene on dry tinder. There wasn't a body in the room over forty and a fair few trying to look older than they were just to get in the door.

They knew that if they kept on plodding after their elders they'd end up on a planet not fit for themselves, let alone future generations. They talked, they listened, but they didn't debate. They analyzed new ideas with respect. This was't something to be done as fools who rush in, but a movement to show those who had gone before them that they had a better path to follow - that they could fix the mistakes of the past and create a future that was better for every species and not just our own.

All seven members of the group stood up, including the tall, gangling man with short, grey-tinged hair, although he was cracking his knuckles in a nervous way, looking around the group for any signs of reluctance among his fellow members. He found nothing. Excitement, and a thirst to prove themselves, was burning in the eyes of all the young people standing in the ring.

"This is the day we have been preparing for all those years," declared the man in the overcoat, his bull-like voice resonating around the empty warehouse, bouncing off the grey stone walls. "We shall act, tonight, and stop the treason of these so-called 'scientists' before they destroy the Human Condition, and life as we know it!"

The group roared in applause, each riling up one another as if they were going to war. In a way, they were.

While they marched out of the door, jumping into vans packed with weapons and supplies, both the Light Spirits and the Dark Spirits slept peacefully, completely unaware of the assassins' approach.