The Sentinel Project

Honey-Badger

"Get the hell up!" A scream wailed through the room as Ques eyes burst open. In the terror of such a rude awakening, the boy flew out of his bed and onto the thin mat on his concrete bedroom floor.  "Jesus, fuck." He groaned as if he had been winded.  Ruthe stood in the doorway, not keen in the slightest on Ques apparent lateness.  He looked at the pyramid like clock beside his bed.

3:55am

He had slept through all of his alarms yet again. "Or did I forget to set them?" He pondered on the possibility.
"Would'a thought you'd be use to all the earlyness n' shit by now." She scowled, squinting at him with her judgeful glance. 
"Do you wake up pissed off everyday?" Que asked rhetorically.
"Fuck off." She replied. Que's bag sat empty in the corner of his room.

Rays of light sifted through the pines as their skin of snow began to melt and drip away. The group; Gareth, Ruthe and Que, travelled along the eastern most side of the Pale Trees. A place where the perminent wintered Pines of West Heron contrasted heavily against the vast hills of the muddy wastelands. These dark hills of death and dispare stretched on for miles, seperating the white forrests and Western Heron from the City of Iron.  It was here between the black and white, between the two seasons, where the Reigns convoy would soon pass. The convoy was a large Land Train, pulling anywhere between thirty to one hundred carriages. Each one of these were shipments from the City of Iron for the Reign Foundation. Millitary and medical equiptment, goods and information. And it was here that it would be the most susceptible to an attack. Between the black and white. In a place known as the Western Border.
It had been three days since the group first left Zealos HQ on their travels, and tomorrow, they attacked the convoy. But for now, they would set up camp and wait to be found by the other teams joining them for this mission.   As Gareth and Que began to set up their miniscule, bed sized tents, Ruthe sat on an old, fallen down tree, enjoying the show.  From out of her bag she pulled a dark bottle of alcohol with words written on it in cursive that read:  Black Jerries.

"Eighteen years ago, your- mother... Sarah... sent through a scan of the origional compound. The Nanite aggregate now used in the Sentinel Program. In your blood." The lady began.    "She was with us from the start, you see. That's how we know so much about all of this."      The lab was lit by ceiling lights, which reflected off the white, tiled floor.  Beakers, pipes and flasks spread themselves over the metal benches along side laptops and empty cages.   It was cold in there and the steady breeze from the air conditioner gently tried to lift the pages of dispersed files.
"But the Reign Foundation's laboratories are still much more advanced than ours. It's hard to keep up. That's what these tests are for." She added, removing the needle from Ques arm.   The black, silvery liquid flowed through the pipe as Ques blood sample made its way into a small, glass box on the desk, atop a device that looked sort of like a scale. She was a scientist. Generic, to say at the least.   Her blonde hair flowed long and flat, past her fair complection, resting half way down the back of her white lab coat.  
"So, I guess some people are happy to have me here." Que sighed.  
"The smart ones." She winked in return.
Not many people had been warm to his arrival. Most believed that he was to blame for Sarah's death, his mother's death. They had known her even before he did and many had looked forward to seeing her again. Yet when they gathered at the gate, it had only been him along side the mysterious stranger in the black glass helm.

The scientist began flicking through her computer, leaning in towards her notes and graphs ambitiously.
"The most amazing part about these Nanites- despite everything aha-" She began excitedly, "Is that they somehow reproduce on their own. Incredible!"   
"My mum died." Que suddenly sighed, trying not to draw attention to it, but sort of wanting it none the less.
"Makes you wonder doesn't it?  The technology from the old world still far surpasses that of our own. How much really did they know?    And where did they all go...?"   She continued, lost in her thoughts as she stared at the screen.
"And they blame me." Que finished as he stared at the reflection of a ceiling light, flickering across the tiled floor.