When Annatrice del Sed was five years old, she did not own a teddy bear.

Her caretaker found her with it anyway, hiding in an alcove. It took them no time at all. There were probably security cameras everywhere in the Sed, but back then Annatrice just assumed that the caretakers knew everything. For the children of the Sed, the masters of their tiny world might as well have been God.

"Who are you?" the caretaker asked her. Their eyes were cold, clinical, like they were looking down a microscope.

Annatrice said what she foolishly assumed was the truth. "Annatrice."

An open-handed slap.

"This belongs to Sally," the caretaker explained, snatching the toy away from her.

There were six of them living in that little dormitory. Annatrice, Sally, Trace, March, Rachael and Cal. Annatrice hadn't known that the toy had belonged to Sally. Nobody had told her. But why would they?

When she sat down to eat at the canteen, the caretaker each time would appear again.

"Who are you?" the caretaker would ask her.

Again, she would answer wrong. "Annatrice."

A kick to the gut.

"This food belongs to Trace," the caretaker explained, snatching the tray away from her.

It took her time and pain to realize the correct answer. When the caretaker found her with the teddy bear again, in a new hiding place, they asked the question -- the usual prelude to a beating. But the girl understood now.

"Who are you?" the caretaker asked.

"Sally," she replied.

Without another word, the caretaker left the girl to her playtime. It was like she’d discovered some magic spell. When she gave her name as Trace in the canteen, she'd be given warm food, not the stale leftovers she'd become accustomed to. When she gave her name as March at lights-out, she'd be allowed to sleep in a bed, not on the cold floor.

The solution had been so simple she couldn't quite believe it.

One day, the caretaker came again as she played with the teddy bear. "Who are you?" they asked.

She'd known the answer now, and gave it proudly, hugging the thing to her chest. "Sally."

"And what is your favourite colour, Sally?" the caretaker asked.

The girl had blinked, confidence replaced by ignorant terror in that one moment. She didn’t know the answer. "R-Red?"

A punch to the nose.

It had been a painful lesson, but correcting it was easy enough. Soon enough, she had learned Sally's favourite colour -- green -- for playtime and Trace's favourite food -- beans -- for lunch. Soon enough, those were her favourite colour and her favourite food, but that was only natural. They were the things that kept her safe.

But the questions grew harder.

Soon she had to answer from deeper levels of understanding, questions about more intimate matters. Fears, hopes, dreams, memories. The punishments grew harsher accordingly: an incorrect answer could mean a severe beating, or days in isolation. Empathy was nourished as a survival trait -- the survival trait. Her eyes grew ever more adept, and her ears more inquisitive.

Every waking moment was spent observing these people, knowing them, so she could be them. Nothing about them could be allowed to escape her attention.

Once she could answer those questions perfectly, they were replaced with the tests. Long sheets of questions she had to answer in the exact same way her fellows had, down to the way they wrote their names at the top. All of it was measured down to the centimeter. Even with the surgeries to help her along, that gauntlet took her months to clear -- by the time she had earned the right to eat properly again, she looked like a skeleton.

The tests were not the end. There was always a new level of perfection to be pursued. Soon enough, they put sensors on her head, verifying even her subconscious reactions to stimuli. If she reacted incorrectly -- if she forgot who she was meant to be -- the punishment was so bad she still had nightmares about it to this day.

But she did it. She did it. She did it so well she could become any person at a moment's notice. Everyone was so proud of Sally, Trace, March, Rachael and Cal. They told them all the time, whenever she brought them out.

Toys. Food. Sleep. Safety.

Once she figured it out, the answer was so obvious it made her feel stupid. Why had it taken her so long to understand? It wasn't that those things hadn't belonged to Annatrice. It was that those things couldn't belong to Annatrice. Annatrice didn't exist. That was just the absence of a real person, which she had mistaken for a 'self'.

Funnily enough, she also realized that -- even though she studied them thoroughly -- she hadn't actually spoken to any of those people in years. Not to Sally, Trace, March, Rachael or Cal. But she guessed that made sense.

Only freaks talked to themselves, after all.

She'd thought her mistake had been corrected with that realization, but it was only years later that she truly comprehended the depths of her misunderstanding.

Over the course of her training, she had become a darling to the researchers of the Sed. It made sense. She was a case they could point to to prove their methods worked. A human consciousness so thoroughly adjusted it could truly become anyone else, an impersonation so perfect it even allowed her to access their Aether.

Of course, it didn't matter to her what people thought of Annatrice. Annatrice didn't exist, so even opinions of her were irrelevant. Still -- when they came to her with their proposal, she dutifully listened. She behaved as if there was a person called Annatrice who could be pleased with the attention.

"Someone very important is going to be visiting soon," they said, taking her aside. "The sponsor who's responsible for this entire facility. His impressions of us could make or break this project. Do you understand? You need to show him how far you've come. What you've become capable of. Can you do that?"

The girl nodded. She would obey. That was what she was for.

This so-called 'demonstration' was something she'd done many times before, as had every other subject in the facility. An obstacle course, to show off her physical conditioning. A combat simulation, to display her ability to operate under pressure. Only the last part of the demonstration was specific to her -- the sensors were put against her head again, so that the man above could see her brain waves adjust in real time to perfectly match those of another. To watch another person truly occupy that empty shell.

Her eyes had glanced upwards. That was her sin.

Yes… there was the man above. The sponsor. The one who’d put all of this together. He was watching the entire demonstration from an observation chamber hanging high over the room. Through the glass window, she could even see him. She could see his face.

It was a surprise -- she hadn't expected him to be someone she knew off the news. That famous UniteFleet Captain, Jaime Pierrot.

The moment she recognised him, his cold eyes flicked down to regard her. A shiver immediately ran down her spine, and the brainwaves on the monitor shuddered in sympathy. That was bad. That wasn't good. Right now, she was meant to be Trace -- she was Trace. Trace wouldn't be frightened by something like this.

But that man… his eyes… there was something wrong about him. No, that wasn't it. He was something wrong.

Nobody said a word to admonish her, but word came down the next day that the Sed project was going to be discontinued. That they were all going to be thrown away. That they weren't needed any longer.

And she knew that it was all because of her.

Yakob del Sed took in a cold breath of air.

It felt like such a long time since he'd been outside like this. Funny -- that wasn't even mistaken. He'd died in the dark, after all, hadn't he? In that cramped cell. Shredded until he was nothing but reflex and nostalgia.

How surreal it was to come back from the dead.

"...Yakob?" whispered Bruno.

Yakob's eyes flicked down from the white dome above to regard his… yes, his opponent. Things became more surreal by the moment. He'd never expected to be put in opposition against Bruno and Serena. Hell, he'd never considered it possible -- especially in a physical confrontation between two different bodies.

Still, if it was what the situation demanded, she -- he -- would show no mercy.

"It's been a long time, Bruno," Yakob called out, violet-purple Aether curling around his hands. "You two have gotten strong, huh?"

Clay began to drip out of Yakob's palms, manifested from his Aether, sculpting and hardening itself as it flowed. In one hand, Yakob del Sed soon clutched a mighty greatsword. In the other, a round shield. This ability had no name, nor did it need it.

A nameless ability was the sign that the user had completely accepted their power as part of their being. There was no need to consciously bring it forth with the self-hypnosis of an ability name. These three -- Yakob, Bruno and Serena -- were one in the way they had accepted their main abilities utterly… but they were still far weaker than her -- him.

Yakob frowned. Something seemed off. But it didn't matter. He had a job to do. One thing you learned at the Sed -- perhaps the main thing you learned at the Sed -- was how to turn off your emotions and get the job done.

When Yakob's old body spoke again, it was with Serena's voice.

"Annatrice," she said, her eyes dark, clutching two invisible swords. "Don't try that. Don't even think about copying Yakob."

Yakob sighed. "This girl already explained to you that her ability isn't copying. Weren't you listening? She emulates the personality of her target so perfectly that it connects to their Aether -- and any gaps are filled by the residual memories within that Aether. Do you understand?"

"Then…" Serena spluttered. "You are…?"

"If you'd consider a person to be the sum of their memories," Yakob said, lowering his stance. "Then yes, I am Yakob del Sed in every way that matters. But enough talk. Prepare yourself. If you're not careful…" she -- he -- hissed. "... I'll kill you."

Yakob launched off the ground, crossing the distance between himself and Serena in an instant. It wasn't that he was faster than her. It wasn't that he was stronger than her. It was only that he was calmer than her. She'd been thrown off by his sudden appearance, and that was the edge that Annatrice -- Yakob -- needed to kill her.

Those swords Serena was holding… they'd originally been barriers created by Bruno, hadn't they? That was new. It was strange, but Yakob could sense the way that ability worked… like he himself was familiar with it. His, Bruno's and Serena's Aether's were inevitably intermingled. Perhaps that was the explanation?

No matter. The only thing that mattered was the advantage it gave Annatrice -- Yakob.

His sword struck twice, each blow shattering one of the invisible blades in Serena's hands. Those things were incredibly sharp -- but if you knew the exact point they were going to strike, you could withstand it through massive infusion at the moment of impact. Yakob's greatsword thus remained intact, allowing her to swing a third time towards Serena's throat.

This was it. She'd won. She'd done it. She'd…

He'd…

He'd stopped the blade in mid-air, right before it would have severed Serena's head from her body. Serena hadn't even blinked. She'd known from the very beginning that Yakob del Sed couldn't kill his little sister.

"Did I get you?" Yakob smirked.

Serena smiled sadly. "Not for a second."

Suddenly, Yakob's -- Annatrice's -- no, Yakob's smirk twisted into the devilish grin it really was. Serena had put her guard down. It had all been part of his plan from the very start. She'd just been pretending to show mercy -- he'd just been pretending. This was all part of her plan.

"Die," she croaked out.

It didn't ring true. That wasn't something Yakob del Sed would say. That wasn't something Yakob del Sed would do. She -- he -- was Yakob del Sed, so she couldn't do those things, so he couldn't…

…why was…

…why were those eyes looking at her like that? With such pity? With such sadness? Were they sad because Yakob del Sed was attacking them? That was it. She was Yakob del Sed, so they weren't expecting it, they were saddened, they were -- she, they -- she -- they, he, they, they --

"It's the smell of medicine, right?" Bruno del Sed murmured, his voice quiet in the darkness of the farm. "You can't get it out of your head no matter what… and you can't stand to look at scalpels. I still get that… sometimes."

"Shut up…" Yakob del Annatrice del Yakob del Annatrice del Sed wheezed, short of breath, her head burning with pain.

Bruno blinked, staring in confusion at the rapidly shifting expressions on her face. "Who are you right now?" he wondered.

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

Who are you right now?

Who was he? Who was… she?

They kept asking that damn question.

“Shut up!” Annatrice del Sed roared, her eyes bulging out of her sockets, her hand snapping to her sheathed blade. “Ego Emulation -- Nigen Rush!”

Whatever Annatrice had intended to do, it was clearly too much for her.

The moment she began to move with that impossible speed, the back of her suit exploded outwards in a burst of sparks and wires, fragments of bloody shrapnel raining out onto the ground. She staggered backwards, mouth forced open by the pain, gasping for air. Then, her body constricted like a statue, she collapsed back onto the ravaged ground.

There she lay, eyelids fluttering incoherently, wordless murmurs pouring from her lips. A brain in revolution against itself.

Bruno watched it all, and Serena watched it all. Their gaze was downcast. Even though this girl had tried to kill them, they took no joy at all in what they had just seen. Witnessing a consciousness disintegrate like that…

…they knew that, given the tiniest of adjustments to their circumstances, that could have been them.

Still… they had a job to do. Now that Bruno had defeated his target, he had to move on and back up the others. Ruth and Rex would have headed straight for the receiver tower, so his best bet was to make his way there as well. He took a single step back from the unconscious girl.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

It wasn’t like anything he could say would make anything better. Without another word, he turned on his heel and ran off into the night. His footsteps slowly faded away… until that space was filled only with the sound of Annatrice del Sed’s delirious mumbling.

A minute later, he came running back. With a surly look on his face, he picked up the girl and slung her over his shoulder.

“There,” he complained to himself, grimacing. “Happy now?”

Then he ran off into the night.

The man whistled quietly to himself, enjoying the show.

Far above, high in the sky yet just inside the dome, there hovered a hulking humanoid figure. This was not a person. It contained a person, but the shape itself was of an Armoured Chassis, a suit of advanced heavy armour capable of turning a normal human into a titan of battle -- and never mind what it could do with an Aether-user. This particular model was wide and stocky, spherical head coated with dark lenses that made it look like it was wearing giant sunglasses.

Inside the cockpit, the Special Officer they called Blue leaned forward and took a sip of Energo from the waiting straw before him. This Chassis wasn’t exactly top of the line, but the refreshment module was pretty nifty. You just didn’t get this kind of customization with the new Halcyon Gigas models. Besides, he’d heard that this was the same kind of Chassis that the guy they called Appointment used -- and if it was good enough for a legend like that, it was good enough for Blue.

He didn’t know what was going on -- these randos were attacking the Provvidenza for some reason -- but he knew what he was being paid for. As soon as he got the all-clear from his client…

…he was to reduce this place to rubble and soot.