The DRA commander Zeltha V was every bit as frightening in person as he was in the stories. He seemed a bit of the phantasmagoria of a nightmare, reflected into the living world. Jaera screamed and ran, but he found himself held by the scruff of the neck by the Armorian, "There is nothing to fear, boys, I am not here to kill you. If I was, this whole city would be reduced to little more than ashes."

I snarled, "yeah, that's real comforting, isn't that what your doing anyway?" An older Doom Patroller smashed me to the ground, "Be careful what you say to Lord Zeltha, he is the eyes and ears of the Overlord Omni. One wrong move, and you'll end up with a pike in your head."

Zeltha looked at him as if he were looking upon an enemy, "Have I not told you enough not to rough up the new recruits? If you do it again, it will be your head on a pike."

I shouted, tears falling from my eyes, "W...What? No...I won't...you won't make me like him!!" Zeltha V shook his head piece and sighed, "This is what happens, Zandiel, when you terrorize the newbies. You can go back to the ship for the rest of the mission."

He stomped off, and Zeltha V looked us both in the eyes, "It is custom to recruit from newly conquered areas. It allows us to integrate a bit of culture from other places into the DRA. Now, do not make me threaten your families with the gallows."

I fell to my knees, as did Jaera, and we both did our best DRA salute, "We promise to serve the DRA in our lives, and through our...deaths..." I barely managed to say the part about dying for the DRA. I hated them, I wished someone would send them off. Yet here I was swearing to serve them forever.

I looked to Jaera, who was having as much difficulty with the prospect of serving them as I was. Zeltha V turned and called out, "Zandiel, bring the ship the Garland over here, new recruits. Just a few surrendered locals."

One of the huge ships tore right through one of ours, and shadowed the ground. It was like a humongous shadow, taking away all the light. It was a mammoth ship, of cruel design with no flaws in said design. To think I would soon be on that ship, going down to kill people who should be my friends.

A smaller, transport vessel flew off of the larger destroyer ship, down to pick us up like trash. The living antique waved to his troops, who cheered and did their salutes a lot better than me and Jaera did. Zeltha said without a hint of emotion, "Say hello to your new peers."

The ship landed and we were escorted on board by two Patrollers who took us to one side of the ship where there was some armor. It was the technological armor of the Doom Patrollers, two whole suits. I took the smaller, but taller suit, while Jaera took the bigger one.

We were goaded into stripping by the other youths in the ship and forced to put on gothic looking black clothes under the armor. I slipped on the cruel gear, and Jaera needed help buckling on the chest plate completely. I buckled it, and then buckled on my own, these suits were surprisingly light for the kind of destruction these guys could do.

At my waist I found a slim long sword and a blaster which were often used by the Patrollers. I took a seat near Jaera and another guy who looked two years my senior at 23. He whispered to us, "I hope you guys like needles, cuz the Z-125 serum is next on the agenda."

I felt curiosity and worry slip into me and I asked, "Uhh, what's a Z-125?" The Patroller answered, "You know, the stuff the coaches in physical education class always told you not to take?" Jaera answered, "Yeah, they say it kills you." The new ally laughed, "Z-125 is the big brother, it as nearly no side effects, but it really helps with the, er, imposing visage."

Jaera slipped into unconsciousness in his armor. If there was anything else he never liked other than the DRA and war, it was needles