The boy sprinted down the empty corridor, his shoes scuffing silently against the grey linoleum floors. His face was splattered with random patches of blood, and there was the rip of a bullet in his shoulder, however this didn't stop him from continuing. He carried a gun in his hand as he ran, smiling a little to himself. He always enjoyed the chase more than the fighting. It was the waiting, the hiding. That always kept his adrenaline running at a high.

He slowed to a smooth stop at the end of the corridor, sticking to the shadows as he flattened himself against the white wall's corner. He wore all black clothes; thin Lycra trousers and a tight black t-shirt. Over this, his black biker jacket was flapping against his chest as he breathed ruggedly.

He hid the gun at his side as he peeked around the corner. There were two men in suits at the end, waiting for the elevator. They seemed in no rush, merrily chatting to each other in conversation. One of these men carried a briefcase.

That was it. That was the mission.

The boy was about to take a step towards them, when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He span around, his hackles raised, his gun automatically pointing in the direction of the touch. The man had held his hands up in surrender, but his expression was relaxed. The boy took his gun down and stuck his head back around the corner as he recognised the man. The elevator doors closed and the boy grunted, irritated.

Trust him to lose the most important item since he'd started.

"Don't panic. The guards will take the briefcase when the doors open again."

The boy span around on his heels in a rage. "I was going to do it! You asked me, and then when I was about to get it, you come and interrupt."

The man smirked, however this only irritated the child more. "Patience, young one. Your time will come. I have something more important for you to do."

At this, the boy calmed down a little. He was one of the most curious boys his age: he couldn't stand not to know anything, which is why he was as he was. He was a winner, and he knew it. When he set his mind on something, it would be achieved, no matter the costs or consequences.

The man turned around slowly, the tail of his suit flaring a little, and beckoned the boy to follow him as he began to walk back down the corridor the way he had come.

The boy followed with interest. He was still upset that he had not been able to complete the last task, but if there was a new one, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. He'd be able to make it up to himself by getting the next win.

As he strolled down the corridor behind the man, the boy looked into the different rooms. Blood was sprayed all up the creamy yellow walls, bodies flung carelessly about the room. The sound of conflict had died down considerably as the men had fallen like leaves in an autumn breeze. He had enjoyed the sensation of overpowering these men. He had finally had control.

The man turned the corner to another long and boring corridor. The chandeliers dangling from the ceilings had been smashed, spreading their glass all over the floors. There were several suited men slumped against the walls here as well. The stench of death and rotting corpses was satisfyingly familiar to the boy. One of the bodies starting moving, stretching weakly towards him. The man had blood dripping down his chin and onto his white shirt, staining his royal blue tie and perfectly ironed beige jacket red. One side of his face was completely bashed in: it looked as though it had exploded from a near bullet shot. It was almost hard to look at, but the boy did not turn away. Nor did he stop. Instead, he smirked a little at the man, before releasing the safety catch on his gun and shooting the man in the centre of his brain. The corpse instantly stopped moving and slid onto the floor, his brains scattered on the wall behind him.

"Do you have to?" the man in front of him turned around. "He was going to die anyway."

The boy shrugged. "He irked me." The man rolled his eyes and began walking again as it was clear that the boy would not apologise for the shock of the bullet's shot in his ear.

The man led the boy into a clear room. It looked a little like a library from the fact that there were shelves of books lining every single wall up to the high ceilings. They were all ancient books, with worn leather bindings and intricate locking systems, swearing off unwanted readers. They were no ordinary books, but the boy did not yet know what their relevance was.

There was a large white wooden desk at the back of the circular room, with peaceful white angels acting as the legs of it. On it, there was a shining new laptop, a tall pile of important looking files, and a single photo frame. From the angle he was standing, the boy was not able to see the picture behind the glass.

The man leaned on the desk, folding his arms across his chest. His signature white suit creased slightly under his weight; however the man did not move to fix this. Instead, he focussed his gaze solely on the boy standing in the middle of the circular room.

"I have a task for you," the man said simply.

The boy waited for a few seconds to see if the man would continue without an answer. When he didn't speak, the boy shrugged expectantly.

"And?"

The man smirked. "Do you know why I chose you for this, Win?"

Win stayed silent, in case it was a trick question. The man had done this sort of thing before.

"I chose you because you use your head. You think before you act. And therefore you will always succeed in life."

Win began to get snappy. "What is your point here?"

"My point is..." The man seemed to drag out the sentence for dramatic effect. "That there are those who do not, and for this reason, they are led to do the wrong thing."

Win narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to tell me that you want me to go find these people who've made the wrong decisions against you?"

The man smiled. "I knew I picked you for a reason."

Win dug into his pocket and pulled out a new magazine for his semi-automatic, reloading it just as the man began to speak.

"As you are probably aware, a few weeks ago there was a rebellion in the main Hartfield base, where over 50 guards were slaughtered and I only just managed to escape with my life."

"Yes, you've told me this before. What does this have to do with me?"

The man's gaze was harder than Win had expected. He pressed his lips together as a signal that he wouldn't say anything else. "Well, seeing as these four children were the most successful and most important subjects the government has had since the disasters of 2006, I need them back." Win raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting. "What I need you to do," the man said as he stood up and began to walk over to Win, "is go and fetch them for me."

"And how exactly do you want me to do that? Go up to them and say 'hey guys, I know you don't know me but I'm taking you back to see the guy who formally changed your lives forever, to the place from which you escaped 2 weeks ago'?"

The man stopped at Will's shoulder. His presence so close to Will's body was slightly unnerving, but he'd learned that it was better to just take whatever would come instead of fight it. Physically, anyway. Words were much more powerful in truth.

The man suddenly grabbed Win's neck with a powerful hand and hissed in his ear. "If you're not up for it, I'll see how you fancy sleeping in the dungeons of the Asylum for the night. Perhaps then you'll change your mind as to what you want to do."

Win stayed perfectly still, ignoring the fact that the man's hand was squashing half the air out of him. "I never said I wouldn't do it. I merely ask questions to make sure I don't waste your time."

The man's hand dropped from Win's neck and patted his shoulder happily. "Good boy. Now," he began again and he stood himself in front of Win. "I want you to be subtle about it. I need them to trust you before they come here. They shouldn't be injured or dead when they arrive here, because they are my prizes. They are my treasures to present to the government at the end of the month."

"You want me to be their friend?"

The man frowned a little, brushing a piece of fluff off of Win's shoulder absent-mindedly. "I'm not saying you have to be their friend. I'm saying they have to trust you."

Win nodded once, his brain ticking away as to his plan. "Where will I find them?"

"They reside at 11 Creed Avenue. It's in the centre of Brookers."

"They'll all be there?"

The man looked as though he was about to say yes, but then changed his mind. "Three of them will be. One will not: Joseph Gideon. I want him in mint condition. When he gets here, he's mine."

There was ferociousness in the man's voice which Win had not noticed before. His eyes glittered with vengeance and anger, as though he had something against this one boy.

"And the others? Are they not special enough?"

The man snapped out of it at Win's comment. "That's not it. It's just that he and I have a little bit of a history: him being a complete pain in my ass. I'd recommend going for the blonde boy: Cai Portrman. He'll be your easiest target for your mind games."

"How so?" Win asked, however inside, his heart was already pounding with the idea that he could get to play with his victims before bringing them here. Like a cat playing with the mice before drawing them into his claws...

"He's easily angered by Joseph, and for this reason if you side with him, he'll trust you very quickly. His girlfriend is pretty easy meat as well. Fire is suspicious of everything: you'll have to do something clever to get into her good books." The man smiled. "But I trust you already have something planned."

Win nodded. "I'll need equipment."

"Ask and you shall receive. Just remember," the man said as Win began to walk out. "Don't kill them, and get them to me by the end of the month."

"It'll be done" Win said determinedly.

He slammed the doors open as he walked into the death-haunted corridor with a newfound purpose. The man watched as Will twirled his gun around his fingers before disappearing around the corner of the corridor, silently praying that he hadn't just pushed his deadliest soldier onto the other side.