The boy was nine.

He stared at himself, hand shaking as it clutched the shattered piece of the mirror he'd manage to salvage. He studied every inch of his new face, brushed a tentative finger over his cheek, hoping he was a ghost and maybe, just maybe, this was all a dream and he would wake up to his mother's loving gaze. But no. This was all just as real as the feeling of his skin- his new skin- on his calloused finger.

CRASH!!!

The boy watched silently as the the mirror shattered into a million pieces against the wall opposite him, wrist still poised in the air as if ready to throw again. He was angry, so angry. A voice outside the room startled the boy, but his eyes didn't leave the shattered glass pieces. They couldn't. His hand was still resting on his cheek, fingers curling inwards until nail hit skin. He dug into it, the pain grounding him. This was the now. He was nothing more than an experiment, an insignificant piece of a project that would save the world.

Or so they say.

At least they hadn't broken his ears. The voice became louder, more imposing. He sensed a pair of feet stopping behind him, the only sound their quiet, barely audible breathing. And his laboured one. The boy felt a cold hand on his shoulder. A silent shiver trailed down his spine. The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

"You can't be angry forever, Smoke."

That's not my name.

The boy stayed silent, refusing to look at the Man. The pair of feet were now planted in front of him. The Man's hand was still on his shoulder. It was too cold. Too tight.

His voice came again. "There's someone waiting for you."

The boy still refused to speak, refused to give him the satisfaction of normality. He didn't deserve that. Not after everything he'd done. The man was a liar. No one was there to see the boy; only to see the effects of the experiments they were conducting on him.

The experiments that failed.

As if even walking by himself was too much a risk, the man steered the boy out of the room and down the corridors he'd walked down a thousand times, and into the room he'd spent a thousand hours in. He'd been there for 715 days now.

This isn't my home.

The boy sat down in the chair he'd spent a thousand hours sitting on, and waited for whoever was going to examine him to come. Usually it was a man. This time, however, it was a woman. She looked like his mother; tall, with a very feminine look to her. She was wearing a plain laboratory coat. Most of the time they were. Her eyes found him and, although she tried to conceal it, shock flashed across her face. He was nothing more than a failed experiment. Her smile returned, but she stayed a weary distance away from him. A freak. The woman turned to say something quietly to the Man, and he left the room. This surprised the boy. Usually he would stay.

Stay to see what failed.

As soon as the door shut, the woman turned her smile towards him, murky eyes flashing with something the boy couldn't identify. She took a step towards him. She stayed on the chair.

"I'm guess you must be Smoke, yes? You look younger than I thought you'd be. How old are you? Seven? Eight?"

The boy stayed silent. Even if the woman appeared nicer than all the other spectators, his trust was too much to give away. And why was she asking him questions? It was almost as if she cared whether or not he lived or died.

Do I even care?

The silence stretched on. The woman's smile remained. "It's perfectly fine if you don't feel up to talking. My name is Dr Orlando. I'm here to help you, even if you may not believe it." She clapped once. "So, do you know what exactly makes you so special?"

The boy still silent, knowing the woman would expect him to nod or shake his head. But he remained still. He knew exactly how to do that, at least.

The woman's smile was now slightly strained. "Okay, then. I'm just going to run a few tests on you now. If you could just hold out your hand..."

The boy did so, eyes glued to the porcelain tiles below him. The woman gently took his hand in hers, and proceeded to prick it with a needle, drawing blood. The boy watched the dot of red slowly grow in size on his index finger, too numbed to feel the pain.

Too used to this.

"I just need a sample." She explained, gently wiping his finger with a piece of cloth and setting it on the table beside her. He still avoided her gaze.

It feels too kind.

After a few more experiments he's been through a thousand times before, the Man came back in and muttered something to the woman. She nodded and turned to smile back at the boy. Her smile was almost blinding.

"You can go now, Smoke. But I have a feeling we might be seeing more of each other on the future. Bye now!"

The Man's short nod allowed the boy to stand up. He left the room silently, making his way back to his cell. For the luxury of a millisecond, he glanced in the opposite direction, where the only other cell in this unit was. He's never met whoever was inside, but he knew they were just as abnormal as he was. He wondered what age the person inside was. Were they a boy or a girl? Did the people change them as well? How long had they been here? Did they long to escape like he did?

It's not like I'll ever meet them.

It's not like I'll ever meet anyone my age again.

***

It was a cold, haunted day. The forest, bathed in the sun's glow, was devoid of human life. Its towering trees reached towards the sky, their branches interlaced like skeletal fingers and in the far distance, a lone wolf's mournful howl pierced the tranquility, its untamed wilderness reigning in the solitude of the moonlit woods. But it was not completely deserted: a man and his horse rode silently through the forest's depths, his mottled green cloak shielding him from unwanted gazes. A layer of dirt coated his clothes, and his pale brown eyes were gleaming with a sense of urgency and determination. The man had been riding for days on end, and a part of him wondered in awe why his horse hadn't yet collapsed from exhaustion- something he would have done if it weren't for the threat of lifelong torture awaiting him if he dared to fail. Besides, his master had given clear instructions, and only a fool wouldn't immediately obey him. After all, he was known for his ruthlessness.

By now, the man, as determined as he was to complete the mission, realised he was in dire need of a break. Just a few minutes, he thought to himself, and gently tugged on his horse's reigns for her to stop. He dismounted and grabbed hold of a tree trunk when his legs, ridden with cramp, threatened to give way beneath him. As he waited for the life in his legs to return, his horse lay down and closed her eyes in exhaustion.

"Wait here- I'll be back soon."

As he walked, he absent-mindedly brushed some of the dust on his cloak, and brought out a small dagger in case an enemy was nearby. In the distance, he could hear the gentle splashes of a stream, or river- water was nearby, and his supply had run out yesterday. He just hoped the people in this Region weren't as brutal as the ones he'd met before- they'd tried to burn him alive when he used their water without permission. Besides, he'd heard rumours that the person he was looking for lived here, so he would have to stay whether he liked it or not. His master had made that fully clear. If he could just remember the boy's name... Suddenly, a short gasp jolted the man from his thoughts and he looked up, keeping his dagger wielded in front of him. Shock ran through his body when he realised he was staring at two boys hardly over the age of seventeen. The taller one had a face that the man vaguely recognised but before he could say anything, he and his companion took off, sprinting away through the trees. It was only then when the man realised who he had been looking at-the taller boy was the very person he was looking for.

In a split- second, the man decided what he would do next. He ran back to his horse, who was in the middle of a good nap, and gently woke her up, deciding that getting water could wait for now.

"Sorry girl, but we've got to go again."

If his horse was annoyed, she didn't show it, and the man re-mounted her quickly and hid the dagger away. Instead of taking an unused path, he rode onto the narrow trail that led into the Region. His plan was to act like a foreigner looking to trade in different Regions, and he could be able to get enough information about the boy to track him down easily. To make his disguise more effective, he took some dust off his cloak and rubbed it into his horse's mane- most people took more pity on someone if their horse needed something (in her case, a good wash). When the man arrived at the village's market, he dismounted his horse again, tied her reigns to a tree and strode over to a short trader with short dark hair and a stern face. He was yelling out a message to someone behind the stalls and turned around when the man approached him. The trader smiled and gestured to a table filled with food.

"Good afternoon, sir! Would you like to buy anything?"

The man nodded, and reached for the purse that hung from him belt. "Yes, thank you. I take it this is the Region of Lambda?"

He nodded. "Yes, it is. What brings you here? Also, what would you like to buy?"

"Just some bread please. And water, if you have some. I was sent from Upper Laurasia to go through all the Regions. I've been travelling non-stop for days." he added when the trader looked sceptically at his clothes.

The man took a loaf of bread and put it into a small bag. "There's a stream down by the houses where you can take water, and you can have the bread for free- you look like you need it." The trader gave a loud, hearty laugh, before continuing. "What's your name?"

The man took the bread, grinning at his luck. In a split second, he chooses one of his many aliases. "Darius Barlow. And you?"

Thankfully, the man didn't see through his lie. "Generate a name fhshhhhhh."

The man took the bag and left, weaving his way through the crowds of people to the river, wondering where the boy would be. Perhaps still in the forest? Of course not- if he had any sense, he would have left a while ago. If anything, the man was shocked: he'd expected the boy to be older, not a mere teenager. His master had described him as some sort of evil demon-creature, something that belonged far from existence. Alas, it was his duty. to detain him and take him to his master, so he couldn't complain. As he knelt near the crystalline water and shuddered slightly at the iciness, a few people stared at him oddly. Of course, he stared back.

After giving his horse a drink, the man led him over to a corner of the forest for a proper rest. Horse horse was curled up against him, breathing deeply. As he lay back against the trunk of an oak tree, he noticed the boy and that friend of his walking along the side of the river. The boy was holding a bag similar to that of the man's, and the two of them were talking in light-hearted tones. Now that he could take a closer look at him, the man realised the boy bore a striking resemblance to one of his master's great deceased enemies, Julius Ward. That must have been why his master sent him to search for the boy in the first place; after all, who was his master, if not a driven seeker of revenge? His horse huffing in indignation at the prospect of being shifted, the man sat up slightly, trying to overhear at least a snippet of their conversation. But of course, he could only hear the steady rush of the flowing water, and inwardly cursed his terrible luck when it came to missions like this.

"I've done this for seven years, and I still don't know what do to half the time." He murmured to his horse, who neighed half-heartedly in response.

"I think that you can understand me, you just refuse to show it." He decided and, again, the horse neighed. However, this time she seemed to agree with him rather than acknowledge him.

The man stood up abruptly, overcome with the usual need to do something that didn't include sitting around and watching the world go by. His horse looked up at him in what could be identified as confusion, and he gestured vaguely towards the edge of the Region.

"I'm going for a walk," he told her, and set off.