PROLOGUE: ELECTRIC SHEEP

Darkness.

All around, total black. A low, mechanical hum was the only evidence to whoever was within the pod that they were still alive. The beast that resided within lay perfectly still, not a single part of it's body moving. It was not breathing, perhaps this one was not alive?

A red light speared into the darkness, flashing every second exactly with a dull beep accompanying it. But the beast could not see this, for it's eyes were frozen shut within the cryo pod. For another five seconds the light beeped, before it and the humming was drowned out by a piercing hiss of steam filling the chamber. Almost immediately the ice began to melt, the liquid it left behind being vented away through tubes in the bottom of the pod.

The sound of metal-on-metal screeched as mechanical arms raised the pod and it's ninety-nine other brothers into the air, giving their residents a view of the immaculate xenocronium floors below. The glass cover of the pods flickered with a red light before immediately disappearing, a few stray, grain-sized hexagons staying behind for a fraction of a nanosecond.

Water dripped from the bodies of the creatures within each of the pods. If one were to gaze upon them, they would barely be able to see what was inside, with an occasional flashing red light every few yards acting as the only illumination.

Inside the pod, a beast snarled as two thin yellow eyes opened. Almost instantly, the tubes and wires attached to various metal sockets across it's torso, limbs, spine and even down it's throat all began to detach, a clear liquid blasting out of each of them as they whipped around like enraged serpents, as if trying to fight against the force that was dragging them back inside of the pod.

The beast fell from the pod like a puppet that had it's strings cut, which would not be a totally incorrect description. The pod continued to drip liquid down onto it's body, still somewhat holding the crucifix-pose that he was dangling in, until another long whir signified that the pod that been placed into it's previous position. The beast suddenly realized he could hear, and not only did he hear the whir, he noticed that there were soft alarms that accompanied the flashing red lights across the hall.

He would have stood, but his muscles felt far too weak. So instead he laid, his eyes adjusting to the dark and allowing him to see another beast identical to him laying on the ground in a similar position. Much to his annoyance, however, the chamber then filled with a warm white light, almost blinding him as he squinted his eyes.

The metallic floor below him disappeared, but he was immediately caught by a dozen mechanical arms which lifted him up, keeping him in a T-like position. A somewhat feminine voice spoke to him, but his mind had not yet remembered what language was. So he simply let the machines do their work.

Directly in front of him, a hatch opened and another arm came out, this one holding another long, black tube. It inserted the tube into the matching socket in the center of his abdomen, which he remembered was left untouched by the pod. A hissing noise sounded all around the hall as a black ooze began to crawl from the socket across his entire body.

Then the ooze began to seep from the other sockets, seeping into every muscle, crevice and scar across his leathery, dark-grey skin, stopping just dead short of his neck, hands, and feet. Every millimeter of his body was covered, except for his left arm, which was cybernetic. It's general shape was identical to his other arm, but it was made of a chrome-like metal. Thin indented lines ran all over it's silvery surface, allowing it the same frame of movement as a regular arm, if not more.

The ooze tightened with a rubbery sound before hardening, going from totally void-black to a shiny dark-grey with trillions of tiny hexagons all across the surface. Then, with a low growl similar to an animal snarling, a red glow engulfed the suit before dulling down to a barely noticeable maroon tinge across the edges of the suit.

When the arm in front of him disappeared, a dozen more appeared all around him holding jet-black plates of matte armor. As they got nearer tiny arcs of electricity coming from the suit begged for the robots to release the plates. As they did, the armor plates snapped instantly onto the beast's suit, causing him to recoil slightly.

He noticed how reflective the ceiling was, and stared back at his reflection as the machines did their work.

The first thing he noticed were his thin yellow eyes, a barely visible iris in the center of a slightly darker yellow. They gave off a very slight glare from their bioluminescence. Below them he had two tiny holes pointing inward towards his mouth which he picked up scents from. Speaking of which, his lipless mouth was in a permanent sneer, the long, needle-thin teeth that lined his top and bottom jaws were the exact same color as his skin.

A long, purple tongue snaked out from between his jaws and slathered them in saliva, it's hardened-leather texture undamaged despite the sharpness of the teeth. Underneath his shoulder pads and the skin-tight suit beneath them were boney stubs where horns would have been, if his masters weren't so keen on keeping them as short as possible.

Long, stitched scars went from the top of his forehead to the base of his spine. Either those were what would have been ridges of bone peeking from his head which were sawn off to make his helmet fit, or where they put in implants. He couldn't remember.

Speaking of helmets, a metallic finger nudged him in the back of his head and he lowered his head so he was looking forward. A hatch right where he was looking previously had opened and an arm holding a helmet that matched the color of his armor whirred as it slowly lowered the helm onto his head, the arm holding onto it a bit longer as the symbiote crept up his throat and sealed him in completely.

As soon as they appeared, the arms retracted, leaving him standing in a line of one hundred soldiers exactly identical to him in every single way. Such is the nature of those bred from tubes.

As if it were a recurring theme, or possibly a favorite shape of the scientist who designed the helmet, a hundred translucent red hexagons formed his heads-up-display and allowed him to see out of his helmet. The flat, reflective surface of the wall in front of him was similar to that of the ceiling. The two-inch thick armor he wore only served to make him look even more muscular than before, although it was broken apart by gaps in the plating betwixt which lay his joints.

Above the tan tactical harness he wore around his torso was a dull-iron skull right where his collarbones met in the center of his chest. He looked at the detail of his helmet as he awaited orders; a solid piece of T-shaped armor was raised about an inch above the rest of the helmet, this armor a light grey instead of the near-black the rest of him wore. A long, thin visor, the bottom line of which got gradually thinner as it met in the center of his face.

A long, black vent ran up the area encompassing his mouth and nose ran up until it met the center of the visor in a tip as thin as before. Two long plates made of the same material as the lighter gray armor ran across his jawbones, stopping about an inch short of the mouthpiece and leaving an inch of black between them. The plates ended in thin vents indented half an inch into the plate. Above his right ear cap was a thick, rectangular antenna pointing above and behind him.

A thick yellow stripe running down the top of his helmet signified his position as a Centurion Lord.

He stopped daydreaming as glyphs danced and flashed across his view, before he heard a male's voice within his ears.

"Look to your left."

He instantly complied, his head snapping in the ordered direction and he saw 49 other clones doing the same.

"Right."

He did so, the 50 on his right complying as well.

"Up."

Up.

"Down."

Down.

A green diamond flashed in the top left corner of his view, as lines of red text appeared in front of him, moving too fast for him to read. The same voice as before spoke to him.

"Centurion Lord #0303775 of the 117th Siege Regiment 'The Wild Hunt.' Number of sorties: two hundred and sixty. Estimated enemy casualties inflicted: eight thousand five hundred and twelve. Biological age... five standard years?!"

The voice sounded surprised. This caused #0303775 to jump -- he did not realize the voice was an actual person.

A chuckling came from a much, much deeper and heavily accented voice, "You have not heard of the accelerated aging that comes standard with vat-born? You surprise me, human." He seemed to have difficulty pronouncing the last word, drawing out both syllables and causing it to sound odd.

"Hey, I might be an engineer but I didn't design these things. You xeklivians know more about this than I do, you've practically replaced regular breeding with it."

Xeklivian? ...Yes, now he remembered. A warrior race of reptiles bred from none other than the mighty dragons. They were not a natural species, said to have been created from the magical splicing of elf and dragon DNA over 200,000 years ago.

0303775 and his brothers were clones of a Xeklivian, one named Vergerar to be exact. Xeklivians bred from mating were born with a natural affinity for pyromancy, but artificial ones such as himself had none of these traits.

The wall in front of him suddenly flickered, transforming into a window and allowing him to see the pair he was listening to.

On the right was a human male. He wore a standard drab jumpsuit, two cloth-covered tubes leading from pouches on his hips to his abdomen, as well as various straps and belts on areas such as his legs and chest. He wore a modified plate-carrier used as a utility vest. He was helmetless, raising a gloved hand to scratch his dark-brown crew cut as he read the dataslate in his other hand. There was a slight hint of stubble on his cheeks and around his lips.

The man's blue eyes widened. He moved his hand from his head to his face to scratch his short beard -- #0303775 did not know how humans could stand having that itchy hair all over them.

On the left was a male xeklivian. His skin was far, far darker than #0303775's, a coffee-like brown compared to his dark grey. He still had his horns across his body, outcrops of razor-like bone ridged either side of his head, and from his jaw were two tusks which ended in dangerous points. His eyes were a greenish color, complimenting his brown, wrinkled skin. His hands were tied behind his back.

He wore a long robe which ended at his feet, most of it being an off-white except for the thick red stripe down the center of the robe, as well as stripes of the same color trimming the edges of his robe. Within the main red stripe was a pattern of golden fabric arranged in runes which shined gloriously in the artificial light.

He was much shorter than #0303775, however. While a normal Xeklivian is almost seven standard feet, centurions were almost nine feet tall. He was also much thinner than the centurions, who were the definition of a beefcake.

"But that isn't what surprises me," said the human, "Look at his wounds! T3-T9 thoracic vertebrae shattered from a Terran Immortal, left arm amputated after close combat with Elven Inquisitor, and fifty seven separate bullet wounds! Three cardiac arrests and automated restarts, and it doesn't stop there! Good God, what does it take to kill one of these things?!"

The xeklivian chuckled at the human's surprise, "He is truly deserving of his position as Centurion Lord, is he not?"

After a long pause, the human spoke again, staring right into #0303775's eyes through his visor, "What kind of dreams does a monster like you have?"

That was the last #0303775 saw of the pair before they walked further down the hall and out of sight. Legionaries and crewmembers sprinted through the hallway as an alarm on the ceiling blared. The wall in front of him flickered again, before becoming solid.

The floor below him cut out, and he was lowered into a cramped chamber similar to the one he awakened in. A final, mechanical voice echoed in his mind as a compartment in the pod opened to reveal his assault rifle.

"Boarding pods launching is thirty seconds."