Mother vanished, leaving Mark there with only the two Valkyries guarding the door. Rising slowly up from his knees, he inhaled slowly. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was too easy. Mother worked so hard to take Sean from him just to give him back? It chilled him to the bone to think that Mother might have hurt him in some way. Without transport, he just started walking to the elevator and scanned his hand to go down. Even if it was a trap... his curiosity got the better of him. What did Mother want him to see? She knew his shield didn't work outside Valhalla's walls. So, whatever she had planned to do didn't involve him killing him. The long walk to Valhalla's gate was torturous. His mind was whirling with so many theories. He just wanted to be there and see it as quickly as possible. As he reached the gates, the newly built doors opened for him. She was monitoring him. Yet, he found it interesting that she hadn't sent him a car. Which only meant she was stalling for time.

Stepping out to the highway, he made his way down the off ramp and down to the Slums below. The place usually was loud from all the bikes, music, and yelling or laughing men. Now it was as silent as a graveyard. The rundown buildings giving a haunting chill. The gentle breeze rustled papers across the empty grimy streets. It was scary to think that so many people just seemed to vanish. It made the Slums appear smaller than he remembered. The last time he was here, he didn't care to look at the place. Now that he could see it all... His heart grew heavy. The Slums looked worse with no one in it. Most of the buildings were so run down that they were death traps, but judging by the stuff he saw through the broken walls and windows... People had been forced to live in them. A cluster of feral rats dashed across the street, attacking each other over a piece of a nutrient bar. When the rat was killed for it, one ran off with the piece, while the rest ate the rat. Mark shivered at the sight, goosebumps trailing down his arms. How long had they lived like this?

This wasn't the Slums that he had built years ago. When had he stopped caring? Hanging his head, he continued walking through toward the Trader's warehouses. As he drew closer, he slowed to a stop at the sudden noise of a man in overalls with a clipboard, calling out to a group of men in black jackets with the name 'Red Cyclones' on the back. "Careful with them! You fucking morons!" The men grunted dismissively, pushing carts loaded down with small see through boxes. He recognized them. Drawing closer, he clenched his jaw. The small boxes were hospital baby basins. The small babies inside cried or slept as the men pushed the cart toward a warehouse nearby. The Trader pointed to the men, yelling out. "Make sure you put them in the right fucking containers! Shouldn't be too fucking hard for ya! Just match the numbers to the numbers on the boxes!" Mark approached the Trader without a sound. When the Trader turned, he jumped in surprise and dropped his clipboard with a curse.

Bowing to him, the Trader rushed out. "Elite Mark, I didn't know you were coming. How may I help you?" Mark crouched down to pick up the clipboard. The Trader winced a bit, mumbling out nervously. "I've done nothing wrong. I have done as ordered." Mark ignored him, scrolling through the lists. The shipment of babies came recently from the hospital. Twenty new babies born with the serial killer genes. Twenty baby boys. Standing up, Mark asked the Trader without looking at him. "What are you doing with them?" The Trader gave him a weird look but pointed to the warehouse and said openly. "They are being taken to their containers. They'll be raised in them like the others. As I was told to do since the orphanages were closed here in the Slums." Mark shoved the clipboard against the Trader's chest, ordering him sternly. "Show me." The Trader bowed and led him out toward the warehouse that the men had gone into. Following the Trader, they approached the first open container, where a Red Cyclone was taking a box inside.

Mark brushed past the Trader to look into the container. The man set the box down in a low narrow padded playpen against one wall. Mark's breath caught in his throat. The container was built like a small apartment. It was even complete with a bathroom, dresser, sink, desk, and TV that the baby couldn't even use... yet. Moving closer to the playpen, Mark kneeled to look at the design. His heart sinking a bit more into the floor. The playpen would flip into a bed when the child got old enough. For now, the baby safe robotic arms were built into the frame and ready to care for the baby's needs. When the Red Cyclone glanced at him, he leapt away and began to stammer out in a panic. "I-I-it's YOU?!" Mark straightened up, staring at the man with an emotionless expression. He didn't recognize the man. The man pressed himself against the wall, raising his hands as he told him. "P-p-please! Don't hurt me!" Mark inched closer to the man. The longer he stared at the man's face the more he did look a little familiar.

The TV behind the man turned over from playing a baby lullaby to the image of Sean getting raped. The man began to huddle into the corner, starting to cry and beg as he noticed the TV playing the image. This had been the man that had backhanded Sean for not sucking his cock. Mark's whole body tensed, his fingers curling into fists so tightly that his knuckles popped. The man fell to his ass, huddling into the corner as much as he could, while pleading with him through tears. "I-I'm sorry! I don't deserve to be forgiven... but p-p-please." Mark's anger flared and he grabbed the man's ankle, yanking him from the corner. The man screamed in fear, raising his hands to cover his face. Mark kneeled down, raising his fist but yelled out angrily. "Why should I spare you?! AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO HIM!" The man wrapped his arms around his head, curling up as he wailed out. "I don't know... I'm sorry... I don't wanna die... I hurt him... but I didn't kill him... Please... Mercy?"

Mark's anger drained as he thought about the Slums. They were all driven by fear. He wanted to kill this man, but was this man beyond hope? He had traumatized Sean... but he hadn't killed him. Lowering his fist, Mark took a few calming breaths. The man shook on the floor, crying and too afraid to even look at him. Releasing the man's ankle, Mark told him in a dark but calm tone of voice. "It's not my place to forgive you. You didn't hurt me. But if you hurt him or anyone else like you did... I'll make sure you pay for it." Getting to his feet, he turned to leave the container, when the man asked him a little confused. "You're letting me go? But I thought..." Mark looked over his shoulder, answering neutrally. "Did you hear what I said?" The man nodded, sinking into a bow across the floor as he mumbled out through tears. "Yes, Sir." Mark forced himself to walk out of the container. The Trader looked at him with a stunned expression, stating out perplexed. "You're letting him go? After what I just saw... He'll only do it again! He's a Slum-" Mark grabbed the front of the Trader's overalls, causing him to fall silent.

Staring into the Trader's eyes, he growled out to him in a barely contained voice. "I don't need YOU to tell me who he is. He knows what he's done. I've said my peace. The rest is on him." Mark released the Trader, glancing at the other Red Cyclones that were watching him with wide eyes. They looked just as surprised that he'd left the man alive. As Mark walked past them, he was even surprised to see them bow their heads. Slowing to a stop, he looked back to see the Red Cyclone's rushing to their friend to comfort him. While the Trader backed up with a fowl look of disgust at them. Mark lost the tension in his body as he thought about what Sean had said to him. The gangs were like families. They looked out for each other and to survive they attacked threats and anyone they held no respect for. Mark glanced at the stacks of containers with numbers painted on them. The Red Cyclone's worked for the Trader, which explained why they were out but how long would that last?

Shaking his head, he jogged back to a Red Cyclone and tugged on his jacket gently. The man jerked his head up, listening to Mark rush out. "A Slum dog was brought here not too long ago. You might know him as the Green Dragon. Any idea where he is?" The man shook his head. Sighing, Mark told him hopefully. "I'm going to warehouse fourteen. You see him or hear anything about him. You come find me. I'll pay good money to know where he is." The man nodded, replying softly. "You'll know when we do." The Trader started to say something mean about the gang, but Mark didn't waste anymore time there. He had to find out what Mother was up too. It pissed him off that the warehouses were not in order. Wondering from row to row, he searched for fourteen. He could hear people inside some of the warehouses screaming and yelling about the music. Rushing up to fourteen, he skidded to a stop. Warehouse fourteen was set apart from the others and unlike the others it wasn't as rundown or as big. The red bricks were charred from a past fire and the metal doors looked rusted and worn... but otherwise it still looked to be in much better shape.

Hesitantly walking up to the doors, Mark opened them up just enough to get inside. As he stepped inside, the lights came on to illuminate two containers. It was weird that the other containers had been solid black in color. However, these were pink and blue. All around the two containers was various laboratory equipment. A genetics lab outside of Valhalla? He'd never known about it. The pink container had 506 written in blue paint and the blue container had 507 written in pink. Deciding to check out the lab first, he went to the computers. He didn't know much about this stuff, but he knew who would. Taking pictures with his watch, he sent them to Matthew. There wasn't a single speck of dust in the place. He was about to go to the containers, when a file on a nearby computer caught his eye. The file had his name on it. Reaching out, he touched the screen to click on the file. The file opened, but before he could read anything... the doors slammed shut on their own and the power cut from the building.

Mark stood in complete darkness, listening to the tiniest of sounds. He moved quickly from his spot, then heard a set of metal doors open. As the doors opened from the blue container, light poured out. Mark rushed to see what was coming out, but the figure dashed into the darkness. Stepping into the light, Mark looked into the container at a distance. It was the same apartment style container, but with a few big changes. Where the sink would be was another computer that was showing that a download was complete. Across from it where the bed should be was a clear tube that was open. It looked like a cage for a lab experiment. Mark tensed but remained as calm as he could. From somewhere in the darkness a familiar voice said sweetly. "You came for me. I was worried that you wouldn't..." Mark glanced around slowly, asking curiously. "Why are you hiding?" The familiar voice answered reluctantly. "Because I didn't know what would be on the other side of the door."

Mark saw a familiar silhouette in the darkness and reached out for it as he said calmly. "Come into the light. Let me see you." The person hesitated, but then crept forward. Mark's heart skipped upon seeing Sean dressed in his torn black jeans and black shirt with a black leather jacket. Sean's shirt had a hood pulled up hiding most of his features. He looked scared and timid. The most unsettling thing that he noticed was what looked like a set of grey rings that were around Sean's neck like a stiff collar. Walking over to him, Mark took ahold of his wrist, feeling Sean flinch and almost pull away. Mark thought he had gripped him too tight in his excitement, but his fears vanished when Sean wrapped his arms around him to hug him tightly. Mark hugged him closer against him, asking in a worried voice. "Sean, what did she do to you? Are you alright?" Sean nodded, but didn't release him. After a minute, Sean told him lovingly. "I'm fine. She's gone. I'm so glad you are here."

Mark's watch went off silently, showing a new message from Matthew that read out. "Mark, get out of there! He's not there!" Mark slid his hand up Sean's back, his fingers curling discreetly in the hood. Pulling the hood back off from Sean's face, Mark took a step back from him. Instantly, Mark stopped breathing and scowled at the person before him. It was almost a perfect copy of Sean... but this Sean had big differences. This Sean's bangs were a soft golden yellow and his eyes were two different colors. One was Sean's beautiful blue... but the other was a jet black with a golden yellow iris. Mark shook his head, uttering out in disbelief. "Mother... What have you done." Hearing Sean's voice answer for his Mother was heartbreaking to him. "If I had more time it wouldn't look like this. But I didn't know that you liked boys... So, it put me a bit behind schedule." Mark took another step back, causing her to say hopefully. "Don't you like it? The perfect blend between human and machine." Sean rushed forward, taking his hand as he giggled out happily. "You have no idea how long I have waited to touch you. You are so warm..."

Mark puffed up his chest, placing a hand on this Sean's shoulder, asking sternly. "Mother. WHERE is he?!" Sean looked up at him with bright eyes, answering in a sweet tone of voice. "You're looking at him." Mark's eyes drifted down to Sean's legs. Despite the jeans covering most of his legs, there were large enough holes at the knees to reveal that neither leg was injured. The last time he had seen Sean, he had suffered a bad case of road rash. Just to confirm it though, Mark asked him curiously. "If you used Sean... Then tell me. What did I have to break you out of to get you out of the Red Cyclone's hideout?" When this Sean didn't answer, Mark smirked and turned to leave. Sean was still alive. She wouldn't hurt the only thing keeping him under control. Just as he reached the doors, the fake Sean told him in a firm tone of voice. "You are not leaving, Mark." Mark huffed, sarcastically asking. "Ya? And how are you going to stop me?" Mark reached the doors, starting to open them, when the fake Sean whistled to get his attention.

Looking back in his direction, Mark froze. The fake Sean was holding something in his hand with a red button. Glaring at him with teary eyes, the fake Sean told him in a clear voice. "I said. You aren't going anywhere. Or I press this button... and I kill him and us. No more Slums. No more Slum Dogs. I love you... and I will have you. In this life or whatever comes after. I saved you! Now you owe me this one thing! Please, Mark!" Mark inched back into the warehouse, asking her with perplexed concern. "What are you taking about? How did you save me?" The fake Sean began to cry, before pointing to the computer he had looked at before. Sniffling, the fake Sean told him in a strained voice. "I've had this research for years... You were the first child to be born with the genes since the creation of Valhalla... I took you. Experimented on you to find out why... I was going to make YOU my vessel. But..." The fake Sean fell to his knees, cradling his arms as he said softly. "As the robot held you... you reached for me. No human looked at me the way you did... Valhalla never needed Elites... I made that up. I needed YOU." To Be Continued...