Looking down at the child in his arms, Dr. Halverson saw him begin to stir. The boy’s eyes opened, and he yawned hugely.

"Ohhh," the boy moaned softly as he stretched. "I guess I fell asleep."

"Yes, I suppose you did," Commander Gyou said.

"Mr. Gyou? What are we doing here?" the boy was obviously confused, but he didn’t seem to be as fearful or apprehensive as Halverson would have expected.

The only answer that Commander Gyou gave was that same, unnerving smile. Turning, Gyou left without saying anything else to either Halverson or the boy. Halverson was confused, but obviously not as confused as the boy himself was. He called to the Commander twice more, before turning his attention to Halverson himself.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I’m Dr. Edmund Halverson. I guess I’ll be taking care of you now," Halverson said, mainly to put the boy at ease. In Halverson’s experience it was much easier to deal with young children when they were calm. And this boy was obviously only six or seven years old. Carrying him deeper into the processing lab, Halverson spotted two of his colleagues and waved them over.

"Hey, Ed. Who’s the kid?" Dr. Sanderson asked.

"I’m not too sure about that, myself," Dr. Halverson said, leaning over to whisper conspiratorially to the other two. "But the Commander wants him processed into a Zoalord."

"A Zoalord? Are you sure you heard that right?" Dr. Henderson asked.

"Yes, I’m sure," Dr. Halverson said, glancing back down at the boy. "After all, it’s pretty hard to mistake that word for any other one."

"Yeah, I guess it would be," Dr. Sanderson admitted.

"What are you guys all talking about? I can’t hear," the boy said, sounding more than a little put out.

"Nothing important," Dr. Halverson lied. Then, turning back to his two colleagues, Halverson leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to them again. "Let’s get him to the processing-tanks quickly, before he starts asking all kinds of questions."

They nodded, and all three of them hurried over to one of the few empty processing-tanks in their part of the lab. This tank had not even been filled with processing fluid in preparation for making another Zoanoid. A room just like this one was where Fumio Fukamachi had been transformed into the first of the Enzyme model II Zoanoids. But the young boy who was currently in Dr. Halverson’s arms would have had no way of knowing this fact.

Looking back down at the child, Dr. Halverson thought that he was being unexpectedly docile for someone his age, as if he was used to being carried around like some kind of luggage. It was odd, but Halverson wasn’t going to complain about it. His mind was more deeply engaged in the problem that the boy’s age had presented to him.

There was simply no way that anyone of his age would be able to survive for more than half-an-hour as a Zoalord. Even then, that estimate was being very generous. There are ways to counteract that, though, Dr. Halverson mused. I just have to figure out what they might be. Typical of Commander Gyou to give me a job and then not tell me what I need to do to get it done.

But such thoughts were considered treasonous by Commander Gyou, and Halverson only hoped that the Commander wouldn’t somehow develop the ability to read the minds of humans as well as Zoanoids. But that wasn’t Halverson’s problem now, all he needed to do was to find a way to do the job that he had just been given. As his agile mind went to work on the problem at hand, Halverson came upon a solution.

If the boy’s body at its currant state of physical development would be unable to withstand the stress of becoming a Zoalord, then it would be a simple matter to change that. With Chronos’ processing technology, and his extensive knowledge of human physiology, it would be very easy for Halverson to force the boy’s body to physically age to the point where he would be able to survive the transformation.

However, the first order of business was to make absolutely sure that the boy would not be able to resist when he finally realized that something untoward was going to happen to him.

"Dr. Henderson, could you please hand me one of those syringes?" Dr. Halverson asked.

"Of course."

The tray-full of filled syringes, used for subduing those humans who were due to be processed into Sleeper Units, sat on a counter on the far left-hand side of the lab. Much easier for Dr. Henderson to reach than Dr. Halverson. In short order, Dr. Henderson had left and returned with the requested syringe. Slapping a hand over the boy’s mouth so he couldn’t protest or call for help, Dr. Halverson watched as his fellow scientist stuck the needle into the boy’s neck.

The boy slowly went limp as most of his nerves were deadened by the drug, but Dr. Halverson could see the slowly building fear in his eyes. He had never processed a kid before, and Chronos had never expressed an interest in anyone this young before. It was kind of hard for Halverson to put aside his own personal feelings and do the job he had been assigned, what with the kid’s fear-filled eyes staring up at him.

"We have to get rid of these clothes," Dr. Halverson said, making a concerted effort to distance himself from what was happening.

"Right," Dr. Henderson said, tugging at the boy’s light blue shirt.

The kid was deep enough under the effects of the drug that he had gone completely limp, and when Halverson let go of his lower body, the kid’s legs fell backward like a pair of lifeless tubes. They bumped against Halverson’s abdomen in what felt like a weak kick, and Halverson felt like he deserved that much. At least he couldn’t see the kid’s eyes anymore, since his head was now pointed at the ground.

"Just think of it as undressing a rag doll," Dr. Henderson said helpfully, working the kid’s shirt off.

"Right."

xXxXx

Masaki made his way through the forest, leading a group of all the people who had decided to come along on this excursion. That had turned out not to be very many people at all, just Sho, Tetsuro, Mizuki and himself. Makashima hadn’t cared one way or the other, but Shizu and the old man had been somewhat enthusiastic.

It was a strange thing to consider, the fact that people might actually want to help him, but Masaki had dealt with strange things before.

"So Mr. Murakami, when are we going to get to meet your son?" Tetsuro asked.

"Kenji’s tent is just thirteen more feet in that direction," Masaki said, pointing forward and to the right a bit.

"I can’t wait to meet him," Mizuki said happily. "I bet he’s so cute."

"He is," Masaki said, smiling. "I used to have lots of pictures of him, but they got lost in the fire." Masaki looked downcast for a moment, then brightened up as he remembered something. "I still have one left, though."

Pulling the aforementioned photograph out of his pocket, Masaki handed it over to Mizuki.

"Aww," she cooed. "He’s adorable. But who’s that man standing behind you, Mr. Murakami?"

Masaki took the picture back from Mizuki and studied it for a minute. There he was, sitting on the couch, with Kenji in his lap waving at the camera. Gray was standing behind him, giving him bunny ears. Masaki chuckled a bit sadly, remembering.

"His name was David Grayson, though he really preferred to be called ‘Gray’. He was a friend of mine."

Mizuki took the picture back when Masaki handed it to her. "Oh. What happened to him?"

"Chronos got to him," Masaki said flatly.

Sho, walking behind Murakami and Mizuki, shook his head sadly. Another life had been ruined by Chronos; another person turned into a Zoanoid against their will. Just like my father, he thought. It wasn’t something Sho liked to think about, but he knew now that even a Guyver couldn’t be everywhere at once. Besides, that had had probably happened long before Sho had even discovered the Guyver.

Sho sighed, and continued to follow behind Murakami and Mizuki.

Masaki, now that he was moving in that direction, had become very eager to see his son again. He was really looking forward to seeing the look on Kenji’s face when all these new people showed up. It might be a little hard for Kenji to get used to living with other people after being alone for so long. But Kenji was as adaptable as Masaki himself, and he was still young enough that the change wouldn’t take too much time to adjust to.

As he made his way through the forest, for some reason Masaki was unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was probably just the two trips he had made to see Kenji already, since this would be the third time this month he would be paying his son a visit. Yes, it was probably just the break in his routine that was making him uneasy. Still, Masaki knew that the sooner he could get Kenji safely to the cabin where they were staying, the better he would feel.

It was only when he kicked something that Masaki looked down, knowing this path well enough to know that there weren’t any rocks in this path for him to kick. Looking down, Masaki saw that what he had kicked hadn’t been a rock at all. Bending over to pick up the offending object, Masaki began to feel a slightly unsettling sensation of premonition.

It was a book. One of the many books that he had bought for Kenji to read when he was alone in his tent.

"No…" Masaki said lowly, not wanting to believe what he was seeing.

Breaking into a run, and ignoring the calls from Sho and Mizuki, Masaki only stopped when he stood again on the spot where he had set up the tent that had hidden his son.

"No. No. No…"

The tent was still there, pieces of it at least. The shredded canvas was scattered over the forest floor like some mockery of fallen leaves, or else a monument to his failure. Masaki could now see all of the books that he had bought for Kenji over the years, now torn apart and scattered along with the remains of his son’s tent. Wading into the pile of debris, Masaki began to look for his son’s body.

No matter how heartless it might have seemed to another person, Masaki was hoping that he would find his son’s corpse among the wreckage of the tent and the books. As far as Masaki was concerned, it was better to be dead than to be captured by Chronos. Looking for any trace of blood proved to be a fruitless search, but Masaki did manage to find the old stuffed toy that Kenji loved to carry around with him.

It was old and worn threadbare in places, but anyone could still tell that it was meant to be a tiger. Kenji had named the toy Kaji, and he would take it anywhere and everywhere that Masaki would let him. Picking up the toy, Masaki tucked it under his left arm. It would be something to remember his son by, something to remind him of yet another thing that Chronos had taken from him.

"Mr. Murakami! Mr. Murakami!"

Masaki heard Sho calling him, but he ignored the boy in favor of searching through the wreckage of the tent.

"Oh my god!"

When Masaki heard Mizuki shout, he looked up. Mizuki, Sho and Tetsuro were all staring in horror at the wreckage where he stood. Nodding curtly to them, Masaki turned back to the rubble and continued his search.

"What could’ve happened here?" Mizuki asked, staring in horrified fascination at the devastation surrounding her.

"I’ll tell you what happened here," Tetsuro said, anger at the Chronos Corporation making his voice rough. "Chronos must have found out about this place somehow, and sent some Zoanoids to destroy it."

"That’s just what I was going to say," Masaki put in, looking up.

"What are you looking for, Mr. Murakami?" Sho asked.

"Kenji’s body," Masaki said flatly. "I’m going to bury it when we get back to the cabin. Then I’m going to find the bastards that did this to my son and kill them."

"I’ll help," Sho said, stepping forward.

"Thanks," Masaki nodded.