(Author's note: This is a story I wrote from yeeeeaaaaarrrrsss ago back at school. As a result it may suffer from slightly dysfunctional/silly plot and way too many fight scenes. I'm putting it on here because I'd rather my computer didn't delete it, and people might even like it. If that's even remotely possible. The story IS completed, but I have a different writing style than this story. Just to let you know.

Also, apologies to anyone who was receiving story notifications from me because I'm attempting to upload over 30 chapters in one go and may have clogged up their inbox.)

Prologue

In the beginning there was only one type of species. That was Man. Later it was discovered that there was a second type of species, which was called Animals, or alternatively Everything Else, which could be put in the mathematical equation everything else = entire planet life – human life.

Everything was mostly like it was supposed to be.

However, after some time there a few scientists who were not content with only two types of species. They wanted more.

The only way to do that was either to colonise another planet or to create life themselves. The latter was chosen to save the effort of building spaceships.

All the scientists all over the world began experimenting with human corpses to test chemicals and other scientific equipment in the hopes of creating anything living. It took almost five hundred years, but finally the breakthrough came. The first batch had been named Species AN – the "A" meant that it was the first species that had been created, and the "N" had been put there by some random idiot, and was something that nobody could explain.

Species AN was rather disappointing. The scientist who created them took one look at them, cursed for ten minutes without drawing breath, and then had them destroyed – five hundred years of work. He was the only one who saw them, and his name was Dr Simon. He was found completely sane, so it was eventually decided that there was an actual reason for his actions, and Species BN, the second batch, was worked on.

The second attempt was very successful indeed. Humanoid figures were produced that could eat, breathe, sleep, talk and also speak the language. It was even discovered that some of the subjects had gained special powers of some kind. One of the subjects, named Crystia Neoshon, was of an extremely rare type of creature. She was a Psycone, as the scientists decided to name it. They still didn't manage to work out exactly what it meant.

The scientists were exhilarated with their discovery and decided to keep going. Before long Species CN had been created. However, something went wrong when the creatures began to awake. They appeared to disappear into the air, not leaving any traces, not even any dust. Some scientists believed that Species CN had gone up to the sky to lead their lives, but only the minority. The widely discussed belief was that the creatures' bodies could not withstand the temperatures and had simply died, although their method of dying was very difficult to figure out.

Since the third attempt had failed, the scientists then decided it a good idea to make a stab at Species DN. A descendant of Dr Simon was put to work on the project, along with another scientist, Dr Frank.

The result was a disaster.

All the scientists were found dead in the laboratory – but only the laboratory where Dr Simon and Dr Frank were working with their assistants. The corpses that the scientists had been working on were gone. Dr Simon's body was not, however, found. Some scientists suspect that he may have killed everyone himself.

However, the true evidence lay on the few words that Dr Frank had written on his clipboard, still clutched in his hand as he lay on the floor.

"Species DN: Complete Success."

10 years later...

In the midst of the Grains Forest, Kylix Clyntini whirled around to face the swordsman Girnesh Henson. "Do you know where he is at all? Perhaps we can use Aimiono to find out where he is."

"No," Henson replied venomously. "We don't need a Psycone to find one little boy. I know where he is. I just can't get there."

"What do you mean?"

Henson spat on the ground at his feet. "We're in the middle of the forest, Clyntini. How do you expect me to get out of here, into the city, and to find the house of Larz Ashkin's foster family? It'll take me a good four days, and I'll have to rest quite frequently. The minute I do some common thief will decide that he wants my sword and run away with it before realising that he can't even swing it."

"You forget, Henson," Clyntini reminded him. "I'm of Species DN. I can get you there in under a day."

Clyntini had been born in the laboratories as a creature that bore very similar resemblance to the mythical faeries in fantasy books. It was eventually decided that she was a faerie, but since Species BN already had a faerie of their own, she would be known as a "dark" faerie to distinguish between the two.

The faerie belonging to Species BN was known as Sami Exoter. Clyntini couldn't remember much about her, except that she carried a large, razor-sharp scythe in her hands. Clyntini didn't carry anything like that – she was an archer. She was more used to the crossbow.

As a dark faerie, Clyntini had wings that could carry her the length and width of the land. The only problem was that she couldn't fly very fast and that she found it hard to suddenly change to ground travel when she was flying. If her wing was damaged in flight, she would try to stay up in the air instead of trying to grab a branch and slide down a tree to the ground.

"I'll get you to the edge of the city," Clyntini told Henson. "Once there you can find Ashkin's house. Remember what you have to do?"

"Of course. I don't forget orders like those."

"You don't forget orders at all. Don't speak to anybody on the way."

"I never speak to anybody anyway."

"That's the spirit. Do your job well. Any questions?"

Henson hesitated for a split second. "What do I do if any of Species BN turn up?"

"They won't turn up." Clyntini was completely confident. "They won't need to."

"I know that, but what if they do?"

"But they won't."

"But they might," Henson persisted. "Then what do I do?"

"You do your job."

"Even if Neoshon turns up?"

This was a possibility that Clyntini had not thought of. She took her time answering. "Then you make sure she doesn't see you. But make sure you do your job."

Henson said, in a slightly confused voice, "With due respect, if I do my job then she probably will see me."

"Then you wait until she goes away," Clyntini explained patiently. "And if she doesn't go away, then you distract her or something like that. Now, are there any more questions?"

"Yes," Henson said eagerly. "What if - "

"Never mind, let's just get on with it!"

The journey took about a few hours through the air. Henson noticed for the first time how the freshness of the air changed as they flew nearer towards the city. A soft scent caught his attention…the smells of all the herbs and fruits sold by people working in the city. Henson had never really had a chance to experience different cultures before. Oh well, he thought, I'm only going to be in here for an hour to do my job, and then I'm off.

As Clyntini set him down just outside the city, he asked, "After my job's done, where can I find you?"

"The usual place, of course. You might like to get out of the city quickly, too. There's government officials stalking the place everywhere."

Henson waited until the sound of Clyntini's wings had faded completely before checking his surroundings. A government official at the gate was checking the identification papers of everyone who entered the city. Henson took out of his inside pocket the fake papers that he always carried with him and handed them in to the official. After a nod they were given back to him and he was allowed into the city.

He thought about the information of Ashkin that had been given to him. Henson fixed the address in his mind: 16 Bowers Road, in the outer parts of the city. Where the hell was that? He alerted several people who went past him, but nobody knew where Bowers Road was.

Henson sighed and went back to the government official at the gate.

"I'm looking for Bowers Road," he stated.

"Sorry, I've no idea," came the answer. "Ask the official at the corner – he'll know."

Henson trudged back to the other official standing by the corner and asked him where Bowers Road was. After some thought, the official replied, "I've no idea. Try asking the official at the gate – he'll know."

"I've already asked him," Henson growled. "And I think you know where it is. I've asked several people around here who swear they've never seen where Bowers Road is. I think you do know."

The official regarded him with suspicion. "Are you a Psycone, then?"

"There's no need to take me so literally." Henson tried to keep his temper down. "What's wrong with asking for a street?"

The official sounded uneasy. "It's who's on the street that bothers everyone."

"On the street? Maybe Number 16?"

"Yes," the official replied reluctantly.

"I know who's on there," Henson snapped. "Ashkin, of Species BN. What's wrong with him, exactly?"

"Well…he's an elf."

"He's a human that has undergone chemical changes to give him the appearance of an elf," Henson corrected.

"Same thing."

Henson sighed. "All right, he makes everyone uneasy around here. That's no reason not to give me directions to Bower Street."

"That's where he lives."

"I know that. My point is that although you may not want to mention anything about him, I want to find him. All you have to do is give me directions and I'll leave you alone and nobody will ever question you ever again."

"I don't believe you."

"Has anyone else been asking about him?"

"No, you're the first. If you have been asking about how to get Bower Street, people are starting to think that you're strange."

"They're the ones that are strange." Henson was beginning to lose patience. He considered using death threats, but decided that they might be fatal for him against a government official. "Just tell me how to get to Bower Street, all right?"

The official sighed. "All right. First you need to go into the centre of the city and turn left at the – "

"I know you're already lying," Henson snapped. "It's around here, I know. Now this time, where is it?"

The official knew he was beaten and stammered out a series of lefts and rights that Henson just managed to memorise. Henson left the official by the corner and followed the directions, hoping that they were correct.

He had not been lied to. The road of Bowers Street loomed up eventually to his right, and Henson headed down to Number 16.

Now to do his job.

The door was answered by a dark-haired man who was nearly as tall as Henson. "Yes? Can I do anything for you?"

"I want to know," said Henson, keeping his voice down as much as possible, "if Larz Ashkin is in."

The man stared at him for several seconds without saying anything.

"You know," said Henson, in case the message hadn't penetrated, "the elf. I mean, the human that looks like an elf," he added quickly as the door started to close.

"I'm his foster father," the man said. "What do you want from him?"

"I didn't say I wanted anything from him."

"All right, then what do you want with him?"

"I didn't say I wanted that either."

"Then what do you want?"

"I didn't say I wanted anything at all," said Henson. "I think you're asking the wrong kind of questions."

The man glared at him, then let him in and shut the door firmly.

"Do you want anything?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then what is it?"

"I'll tell you in a moment," Henson said, and acted.

His hand made a rapid movement towards his belt, and a split second later his sword was no longer in its scabbard. The other man grasped at the steel blade that slammed into his chest, and swore.

"And what was that for?" he snarled.

"Sorry, I'm supposed to do that," Henson said before pulling the sword out and hitting the man over the head with it in case he wasn't dead yet. "It's my job." His last three words fell on dead ears.

A second man came into the hall and saw the dead body on the floor. His eyes followed it to the bloodied sword that Henson was helping, and he gradually started to make a connection. By the time he did, Henson was on him. The blade ripped through the man's throat, nearly taking his head off at the same time. He collapsed to the ground with blood spurting from his throat.

Henson entered the living room to find that it was empty. I thought people were supposed to use the living room for the majority of the time they spent in the house, he thought to himself. What's happened to the quality of living around here? And where's Ashkin?

He found a woman in the kitchen who he presumed to be the foster mother. She screamed when she saw the blood on his sword, evidently figuring out what he was going to do a lot faster than the other man had. Henson found her a bit annoying and decided that her voice was getting on his nerves. His blade sliced her head off very neatly.

He nearly ran into a servant who seemed to be running at him too. The servant saw his sword and attempted to leap out of the way. Henson thought that he was attacking him and tried to leap out of the way at the same time. As a result, they both collided with each other again. The servant was knocked unconscious. Henson just got a sore head.

Henson considered whether it was really worth butchering a servant. He decided that he might be useful.

"Ow," he servant howled when Henson helped him regain consciousness. "Thank you very much…" He suddenly realised who the person in front of him was.

"Oh no, it's you again!"

Henson held him down. "You'll knock yourself out again if you try to run," he said helpfully. "From the way you were running, I could see that you were heading straight for the kitchen wall."

The servant dimly decided not to take in a single word.

"I want to know where Larz Ashkin is," Henson hissed. "If you tell me, I will kill you. I mean," he corrected hastily, "I'll spare your life."

The servant's expression showed clearly that he didn't believe him.

"All right, I won't," Henson admitted. "I'll just knock you out. Just like you did a minute ago. Is that all right with you? Good. Now where's Ashkin?"

The servant's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Henson realised suddenly that he was clutching the servant's throat. Quickly he released him.

"Playroom," the servant whispered finally.

Henson decided not to knock him out until he was sure he was telling the truth. In the playroom he found the body of a little body, no more than about seven, dead on the floor. Henson bent down to examine him. The boy clutched the end of a cable. Henson smiled – all the deaths in the house had not been necessary after all, but it had still been fun to do it.

He returned to the servant. "Ashkin's dead," he said. "Electrocuted himself."

"Is he?" the servant whimpered.

"Oh, yes," Henson assured him. "I didn't even get to kill him."

He gave the man a large pat on the back that knocked him out again, and then left the house.

As Henson disappeared into the distance, the little child playing in the back garden, who was even younger, continued to bounce a ball up and down, not noticing the carnage in the house.

"It's all right," the man next to him said calmly. "He didn't get you. He got everyone there…but he didn't get you, Ashkin."