Joshua Siu and Julia Kapchynsky

English 9 Honors Period 1

Ms. Magliaro

19 March 2020

Prologue:

This is but one legend of which the scorpionhearts speak…

At the beginning of the world, there was simply nothing. There were no sentient beings, no

light, no dark. Only a powerful, bestial force that governed the entire universe. Then one day, the force

decided that it could not govern a universe without a physical form, and it formed itself into a physical

being, a brown, firm-bodied being with eight limbs, eight eyes and a tail with a sharp hook. There was

no sharp extrusions or armor on its form, as there was no fighting or violence. Its many arms existed

solely to create and shape the world, and its tail would wipe out creations that the creature deemed

unworthy or malformed. From there, the force took on the name of Great Scorpion, as it was the great

creator of everything. The Great Scorpion shaped the planets, the Earth, all kinds of plants, and

everything else that was known in the existing universe, but no sentient life or animals were created

yet. The Great Scorpion decided that there must be beings who are like him in both blood and image,

and with his tail he cut himself across one of his eight arms. He felt no pain, as there was no darkness

and suffering in the perfect world yet. From the drops of crimson blood that fell from his arm, he

formed the first scorpions out of them. However, although the scorpions were like him in form, they

did not possess the knowledge and wisdom of him, as they were made from his blood, not his mind.

The creatures were only able to exist and perform menial tasks such as crawl and breathe. These first
scorpions were much larger than the scorpions of today, as they were about the size of a small house.

The Great Scorpion then decided that there must be prey for the first scorpions, as they were unable to

sustain themselves purely on willpower and mental strength, like he could. He then created all types of

insects for the scorpions to consume, a variety of all different kinds of animals. The insects had no

sentient mind; they could not feel or think, only eat the plants that grew on the earth. The Great

Scorpion enabled the creatures of the Earth to breed and reproduce, as they were being eaten faster than

he could create them. There was still no intelligent life within the world, and the Great Scorpion created

humans from his thoughts. The Great Scorpion knew that if he gave them the perfect body of the

scorpion, they would become too powerful for him to manage, so he gave them only half the limbs as

he gave the scorpions and only two eyes. He also made their bodies feeble and weak, unable to scale

terrain that the scorpions could easily maneuver. Their bodies were like the scorpions, but without a tail

and softer, more clumsy. The humans were able to create amazing things, as they possessed the same

creativity and knowledge of the Great Scorpion himself. Satisfied with his self-sustaining universe, a

perfect balance of birth and death, the Great Scorpion fell into an eternal sleep, never to wake again. Its

body that it had created for itself disintegrated, and once again he became an invisible force in the

universe. However, not all was well. The race of scorpions and the race of humans married each other,

and as a result their offspring was extremely powerful, possessing the raw strength and athleticism of

the scorpions, but still the body and mind of a human. This combination of mutations allowed the new

race to build greater technology and perform greater feats both the humans and the scorpions, and this

upset the humans as they were used to themselves being the most capable in the universe. From there,

bitterness and envy was born, and the humans began to purge the new race. The humans created

weapons out of the Earth, and hunted the race until it was to the brink of extinction. What was left of

the race hid their talents, so they would blend in with the rest of humanity. The race never mentioned

their talents ever again, or performed feats that shamed the humans, and over time most of them forgot

all about their talents as they never used them. There were still whispers of their abilities, but only in
private between the survivors of the race and their children. Believing the race to be extinct, the

humans once more returned to their lives of creating technology, but the seed of anger that they had

planted in the perfect universe had already began to grow. The scorpions saw their offspring were being

killed, and since they had never seen their children killed before, it enraged them. By this time, the

scorpions had evolved mentally, and although they were not as sophisticated as the humans, they were

able to think and communicate. The scorpions called the new race Scorpionhearted, as although they

had the bodies of humans they had the hearts, attitudes, and attributes of scorpions. The scorpions were

not intelligent enough to develop weapons out of the Earth, but instead they turned their bodies into

weapons. They sparred against each other, training themselves for battle. Over the period of a thousand

years, the scorpions evolved powerful front pincers and a tail which could deliver death. The bodies,

from the countless fights and scars, evolved into body armor that would encase them completely. Thus,

the scorpions developed their exoskeleton. Finally, the time for war had come, and the scorpion army

marched in the ranks in the millions against the humans, who had been blissfully unaware and

developing their society. The humans were not prepared for the onslaught, and they fell in the

thousands. However, they were resourceful, and used their knowledge to snatch a stalemate from what

would have been utter defeat. This battle, known as the Great Amblypygi War, was the turning point

between the peace of the humans and the scorpions. Never again will humans and scorpions coexist, as

they will always view each other as enemies. However, legend says that the Scorpionhearted are able to

coexist with both the scorpions and the humans, as the humans did not know about their talents and the

scorpions did not mind their superiority in mind. Some say the Scorpionhearted walk among us today.

They could be you and me.

 Last Scorpion Standing

Ten thousand years after the Great Amblypygi War

Around year 3000 A.D.

JS-ARC-0969 was running through a forest. They were chasing him, although he didn’t know who was.

He knew he couldn’t run forever, but he had to keep going for as long as possible. They were right

behind him, about to overtake him. In a desperate attempt to escape the pursuers, JS-ARC-0969 dives

forward into the muddy ground, and all went dark.

JS-ARC-0969 wakes up gasping in his bed, covered in sweat and tears running down his face. It was the

same dream that he had lived so many times. It always ended this way, with him falling to the ground

and waking up. Every time he had that dream, the situation was always exactly the same in a uncanny

way. The fifteen year old boy didn’t have a name, only an identification number, and he liked it that

way. He didn’t have any friends, but the soldiers in the same legion as him called him JS for short. JS

had been in the military force for as long as he could remember, training every single day for

preparation for when the day comes that he is called to fight. He was enlisted in Battalion Recon of

Undercover Hunters (B.R.U.H.), the special ops program that trained children to be assassins and

soldiers. JS had been taught his entire life that the world was a cruel place with too much evil to be

eliminated and not enough people willing to fight it. Years of training and teaching new recruits had

earned him the title of ARC, Advanced Recon Commander. Yet none of the training that he had gone

through could prepare him for the nightmares that would overtake him every night. JS sighed, and
turned back onto his back and stared at the gray ceiling of his room, unable to close his eyes and sleep.

After what seemed like an eternity, the morning bell rang and lights illuminated throughout his room.

JS had his own room due to the rank of ARC, since other people in his legion usually had to bunk

together in groups of ten. JS put on his ARC uniform, and headed out his door. JS was a short, scrawny

boy with curly black hair and a fair complexion. He wasn’t handsome nor ugly, but instead a

combination of somewhere between the two. He walked into the cafeteria, where hundreds of legions

of boys were all eating and talking. He got on the line for food, and waited to get his nutrient pack. As

he waited, a larger boy pushed his way in front of him. “I was here.” the boy muttered under his breath.

JS ignored him, as it was not worth an argument. Several other boys, probably from the older boy’s

legion, also walked in front of him. As they walked past, one of them shoved him to the ground. JS

picked himself up off the ground, and looked the boy in the face. “Don’t touch me again. Please.” he

said coldly, without much emotion. The training that JS endured everyday made him almost impassive

to all detrimental emotion, neither anger nor pain. The boy reached out to hit JS, but he was ready. With

lightning fast reflexes, JS grabbed the fist and swung upwards with his other hand, catching the boy in

the jaw. He stumbled backwards, and the rest of the people in the line smirked, knowing a fight was

coming. A fight was the last thing that JS wanted. It didn’t help anyone, and only caused more

problems. The boy dove at JS, and the two boys went down fighting. Shortly after, an officer walked in,

and separated the two boys. “Detention.” the officer said. JS started to head out, but a hand on his

shoulder stopped him. “Not you, trooper. You’re coming with me.” The officer led JS to a room that he

had never been to, and sat him in a chair. “Sir, what’s going on?” he asked. “What will become of me?”

The officer just looked back with neither pity nor sympathy. “You’re being assigned to your first

mission.” JS felt all breath leave him. Troopers never went on missions until they reached the age of

eighteen, and even then hardly any made it back alive. He hadn’t planned on being sent on a mission

until he was much older, around thirty. He was not ready yet, not trained enough. “You’re leaving

tomorrow morning. Pack your bags. You have the remainder of today to prepare.” the officer
responded. JS walked back to his room in a daze. How quickly life had escalated. Rather than the

monotonous, repetitive training that he had expected today, JS was being sent on a suicide mission. He

sat on his bed and took out his phone, and sure enough there was a new notification. “Mission

Briefing,” it read. JS clicked on it, and a description came up.

Greetings Trooper

Your mission is to infiltrate a suspected location of criminals and obtain as much information about

them as possible. You will be issued your official ARC combat outfit and standard military weapons. A

squadron of three other troopers will accompany you in your mission. These troopers are under your

command; they have been notified of this. You will wake at 3:00 A.M. standard time tomorrow

morning, where you are to head to the back entrance for your transportation at 3:30 A.M.

JS spent the rest of the day packing, and decided to sleep early in order to rest well before tomorrow’s

mission. As he faded into unconsciousness, he found himself surrounded by the all too familiar forest.

JS looked around, and sure enough, the trees rustled with his pursuers. The dream played out the same

way it always had. He started running, but he was never fast enough. He could feel their breath down

his neck. Just maybe, I’ll make it this time he thought. He had physical training every day, top-notch,

intensive training that made him capable of feats just short of superhuman. Whoever was pursuing him

couldn’t compare with that training. He could slip into the darkness and he would be free. Suddenly,

hands grabbed him from behind, and as JS fell to the dirt, all went black.

All was still black when JS boarded the helicopter with three other troopers. It was too dark out to see

any of their faces, just identical silhouettes in ARC outfits just like him. They’re people, not just
soldiers, JS reminded himself. People with thoughts, fears, and hopes. They were all much taller than

him, and clearly older and more experienced by the way they stood at attention. These adults were

under his command, these veterans were under his command. No, not veterans. They looked anxious,

like they have never fought in a real mission before. JS sat up against a bench, and fell into a restless

sleep. Some time later, he was jolted awake by one of the troopers. “We’ll be arriving in five minutes.

Get ready.” Five minutes, and he would be thrown into a real mission with real people and real

violence. He wasn’t ready for this. Not even the years he had spent training as a soldier could make him

ready for the danger that he would have to face. It’ll be just like the simulations, he thought. Just like

the simulations, with blood and death, pain and suffering. The helicopter landed on a dusty, abandoned

parking lot. A small, concrete building sat next to the parking lot. It was roughly the size of an

apartment building, but the building had very few windows, giving it the appearance of a large piece of

chalk. It appeared to be abandoned, as it was very old and featured cracks down many of its sides.

From the pilot’s seat, the officer walked into the deploy room, where the JS and the troopers were

sitting. Using a small, silver key from his belt, the officer unlocked a metal compartment under where

they were sitting. Each one of the troopers reached under their seats, and took out their ARC uniform.

When JS took out his, it was just like the one he had imagined in his dreams and fantasies. From the

neck down, shiny light-gray armor that glistened in the bright morning sun. Made of scorpite, a

synthetic armor that used the same chemical compound as a scorpion’s exoskeleton, the armor was so

light that the wielder would not feel anything, yet strong enough to stop a bullet at point-blank. It was

the ultimate creation by humanity, as it enabled any normal human to have the protection that a

scorpion’s shell provided but still be undeterred in movement. From his waist were two pistol holsters,

each with a customized, hand-tuned pistol. A metal collar surrounded the shoulders, shiny and polished.

But what was most amazing wasn’t all the body armor, rather it was the helmet. It completely enclosed

his head, with a visor that lit up and detected the area for heat signatures. This helped him identify

living things, such as his comrades and potential enemies. On the outside of the helmet, there was a
custom marking of bloodred tears running down the helmet, the design that JS had designed so long

ago when he had graduated to ARC. All ARC graduates were given the chance to customize their own

helmets so other troopers could recognize them. With each piece of armor strapped onto him, JS felt

more confident for his mission. He looked at the three men next to him, and their armor. Their ARC

armor was exactly the same as his, except for the helmet. One man had a pitch-black helmet, with

white teeth drawn across the lower half of his helmet, giving him the appearance of a snarling wolf.

Wolf, he’ll call that trooper Wolf. Another man had had a red line drawn from the top of his helmet all

the way down to his lip, and the last man had brown splotches over his helmet. JS decided to call these

two men Gash and Camo. He turned to address his comrades, “My identification is JS-ARC-0969, but

you can call me JS. You,” JS pointed to each of the men, “will be called Wolf, Gash, and Camo. These

names will help us easily identify each other.” The four troopers stepped outside, into the parking lot.

They walked over to the abandoned building, and saw that the building was much smaller than it

actually looked. Its condition would also be a factor that the men would have to take into consideration

as it could collapse on them if they were not careful. “Move in as a team. Although we may be able to

cover more area if we spread out, it will be much more dangerous, and if the enemy is skillful then they

will be able to pick us off one by one.” JS commanded, and headed into the building. The inside of the

building was extremely old, and paint was peeling off the concrete walls. The musky smell of mold and

dust reached the troopers’ noses even through their helmets. The men walked into the room, hands on

their pistols. There were no visible signs of anyone in the room; they must have all retreated or hidden

somewhere. JS and the group began looking for signs as to where the enemy had hidden, and slowly

the group spread out in the room. “Wolf and I will investigate the upper levels of this building.” JS

nodded to Wolf. “The rest of you stay down here and notify us if you found any clues. If there is a

secret entrance or a hidden door, do not attempt to enter by only yourselves. Embrace the fact that you

have a team.” JS and Wolf then took the stairs to the room above them. The troopers watched their step

carefully, as the crumbling floor could spell destruction for their fellow troopers below if the room
collapsed. As JS and Wolf picked their way around the debris and broken pieces of concrete, JS was

able to see all sorts of strange gadgets and weapons that were perhaps once priceless. They were all

broken, but he could still make out what they were once supposed to be. JS could see daggers that

could mount onto one’s arms, giant pulse cannons, and grenades of all shapes and sizes. The walls were

scorched in some places, probably the aftermath of the different types of weapons in the room. This

technology could be very useful if salvaged for the B.R.U.H, and JS made a mental note of telling the

officer about this upper room that they were in. JS picked up pieces of technology, and inspected each

one of them, curious about just who they were sent to investigate. JS and Wolf were sorting through the

debris, when JS heard a voice over his comm unit. “We’ve located a vent that appears to lead

underground. We do not know how deep the vent leads, but it appears to be deeper than just a

basement.” JS and Wolf quickly went downstairs, and saw Camo and Gash looking at an exhaust vent

that led into the darkness below. The troopers removed the grating off the vent, then tied a piece of

cable to a stake that they planted nearby and lowered the cable into the vent. JS held onto the cable and

said, “I’ll go first. Lower me down slowly and I will give the cable a tug when I have reached the

bottom.” The troopers nodded, and JS stepped into the hole, ready and eager to discover the truth about

the suspects. JS counted how many feet underground he was going as they lowered him down. Forty,

fifty, sixty feet. When JS reached sixty-six feet, his feet hit the bottom of the tunnel, and he stopped

descending. He gave the rope two short tugs, and then looked around cautiously. Very little light from

the world above reached the room below. JS was in a circular room, with many tunnels leading out

from the room that he was in. The strangest part was that the room consisted only of dirt and earth, as if

the room was a hollowed out concavity in the Earth. The tunnels that spread out were pitch-black and

foreboding, and they looked as if giant worms had slithered through the ground, creating each one of

the tunnels. JS heard the soft thud of feet behind him, and turned around to see his fellow troopers drop

down from the cable. The darkness made it hard to see, and JS turned on the night-vision on his helmet.

It made the tunnels more clear, but JS still couldn’t see what lay ahead of them in each tunnel. “Stay as
a group. Two people take up the rear, while two of us take the front. JS and Camo took the front, and

Wolf and Gash took the rear. The group headed deeper into the tunnels, but something made JS uneasy.

Like a feeling that they were being watched.

“Wait.” said JS. “Turn on your heat sensors.” The troopers did that, and they were shocked to see that

they were surrounded by flashing red heat signatures. “The enemy is close. Get ready. Turn off your

heat sensors and use only night vision.” Something moved in JS’ peripheral vision. The troopers all

looked up, and a single man dropped down from the ceiling. The man wore face paint all over his face,

making it nearly impossible to identify the man’s real face and features. JS was shocked to see

however, that the man looked barely older than him. The man wore black robes, with a strange symbol

etched across his chest on his robes. He carried what resembled a stick made of metal, one in each

hand. The man flicked his wrists, and both sticks illuminated with crackling electricity. The strangest

part, however, was the fact that the man showed no reaction to the electricity that now licked his hands.

All around the group, cracks of electricity ignited in the darkness around them. The ARC troopers

backed up, each one of them facing a direction. “Feel free to use your weapons, but do not kill. Only

disarm and neutralize.” JS said, and aimed his pistol at the man facing him. Then, suddenly, JS lowered

it. “No one needs to get hurt here, we just want to know who you are and why you are here. If you are

innocent, we will go in peace and forget the fact that we even found you here. We will keep your

organization or cult, whatever it is, secret.” The man standing before him cocked his head and looked at

JS. When he said these words, the troopers surrounding JS all turned to face him. “Stand down. Our

mission was to investigate the location and obtain information about the owner of this building. In our

orders, we were never ordered to hurt or kill.” The trooper called Camo began to lower his pistol, then

suddenly it was up against JS’ neck. “Some leader you are. You are weak, merciful. The enemy exists

for only one reason, and that is for us to destroy them.” Camo would have said more, or fired perhaps.
No one knows, because in that moment the man with the electrified stick attacked, and all the other

people in the darkness followed. Then, total chaos broke out. 

As Camo crumbled to the ground, electricity coursing through his armor and his agonized scream rang

out, it was the three remaining troopers’ war cry. JS aimed his pistol at the man’s thigh, and fired. With

lightning fast speed, the man was suddenly behind JS. What was strange was that the man didn’t walk

or run, he just simply appeared, as if he teleported or shifted time itself. The man lashed out with a

kick, and sent JS sprawling on the ground. He aimed his pistol again, this time without hesitation at the

man’s shoulder. He fired, and the man fell back. For an instant, JS thought his shot had hit true, but by

some miracle the man had blocked the bullet with his stick. Incredible, thought JS. This man has

superhuman reflexes. JS crawled to his feet. “We’ve got to alert our officer! Let’s go!” He grabbed

Camo’s limp body, and hauled it over his shoulder. With his other hand, he fired round after round at

the incoming enemies. None of them hit, but they couldn’t advance either while blocking the incoming

shots. They began to slowly back out of the tunnel, firing shots to keep the men at bay and dodging

electrical staffs swung at them. “Move!” yelled Wolf to his allies, and pulled a grenade from his belt.

As the troopers ducked for cover and ran, Wolf threw the grenade into the tunnel at the incoming

enemies. There was a blinding flash, then suddenly the tunnel started shaking. “Go! The tunnel is

collapsing!” urged JS. Gash hauled Camo off JS and said, “I’ll carry him to safety and alert our officer.

You and Wolf hold them off.” All around them, dust and debris fell on the troopers. JS hauled Wolf to

his feet, then they began sprinting out of the tunnel. The men ran back to the room with the many

tunnels, and Gash began to strap Camo to his back. The men with the electric staffs began filing into

the room, and stood across from the group of ARC troopers warily. All of a sudden, they looked at each

other, and hurried out of the tunnel. “I’ve got a very bad feeling about this,” said JS. The ceiling

cracked, and gave way and fell. Slabs of ceiling began to collapse around him, and the troopers began
to climb up the cable that they had thrown down. A falling slab hit JS, and knocked him to the ground,

pinning him. JS could feel several bones in his legs crack. Both his legs were completely immobilized,

and he could not free himself. “Help! Please!” Gash and Wolf looked back on him. Wolf hesitated, but

did not move in either direction. Gash met his gaze for a long time, and said, “We are no longer under

your command, trooper. It’s only survival now.” Now both of them began climbing up the cable. Tears

choked up in JS’ throat, and he felt nothing as the world crumpled around him, burying him alive. This

was how he was going to die. He would die cold, alone, forgotten. 

JS appeared in the world of dreams again, but this time the world was much fuzzier, and colder. He

looked around the forest that he had always been trapped in, his breath white in the wind. Footsteps

began coming from all around him, and from nowhere at the same time. He didn’t know where to run.

It would end like this, he thought. The enemy had at last surrounded him, and he could not escape using

the same method that he always used; running for his life. JS collapsed to the ground, and began

weeping, waiting for the enemy to finish him off. From the darkness, a man emerged. It was the same

man who had initially jumped down from the ceiling and wielded the metal rods. This time, however,

his face was no longer covered in paint and he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. The man was handsome,

but there was something strange about his face. It was too perfect, almost like it was artificially

generated. The man reached out a hand to JS, and he took it. The man pulled JS to his feet, and JS had a

chance to look the man directly in the face. His eyes twinkled, kind and without malice. The man let go

of his hand, and pointed towards the woods. JS then realized that the sound of footsteps were coming

from there. Panic set in. They were still coming, the pursuers. But the man had helped him, telling him

which way they were coming. JS began to run, but remembered the man who had helped him. No, he

decided. I will not leave a fellow soldier behind in order to save myself. I am better than this. JS looked

back, and was surprised to see that there was no trace of the man that helped him. JS shrugged, and
turned and began sprinting. The man didn’t matter. Thinking back on it, JS thought that maybe the man

never even existed. Maybe he had just imagined it. 

For the sixty-sixth time that day, the man slapped JS across the face. He didn’t respond, as always. The

man goes to slap the man again, but right before the blow connected,  a hand reached up and grabbed it.

JS blinked, and then let go of the hand. Slowly, JS sat up and looked around. He was in a room that

resembled a small dirt hut. The only light source came from a small candle that flickered weakly in the

corner. He was on a flat piece of elevated ground that he supposed was a bed. As his eyes came into

focus, JS could see the young man that sat near him. It was the same man that JS and the troopers had

encountered in the tunnel, the man who JS had encountered in his dream. JS began to stand up, but

flashing pain ignited in his legs, and he crumpled to the ground, screaming. “Wouldn’t do that if I were

you.” the man said simply. He did not move towards JS, or move at all. He just sat there like a statue,

observing JS. As he eased himself back onto the bed, JS could see that he was unable to walk

completely. His legs had been completely shattered in the incident, and it would be a miracle if he

could even walk ever again. “Well, since I’m not going anywhere, why don’t we start with

introductions? I’m Advanced Recon Commander identification JS of legion 0969. Who are you and

what happened?” “Okay, JS...JS...Josh. What brings you to us here?” the man asked. JS replied, “My

identification is JS, not Josh. I was sent here to investigate a group of criminals who were suspected to

be here. You and the other people with you don’t look like criminals. If you were, you could’ve killed

me and my fellow troopers much sooner. Do you have any information about the people who own the

concrete building above your...home?” The thought about his fellow troopers and their betrayal brought

JS a throbbing headache, and he laid back on the bed. The man looked puzzled. “We own the building,

but we hardly use it. Only to test our new technologies that could be hazardous to test underground.” JS

sighed and then stared at the ceiling. He had no idea what he was going to do now. The life that was so
organized that he had lived just a week before had been completely changed and flipped. “Josh, we’ll

release you to return to your legion after you are well enough to walk. Only if you wish to even after

hearing what I have to say. But you must not mention me or any of us, okay?” the man said. “Josh.

Why do you call me that. I’m just a number, we’re just numbers.” JS rolled over to face away from the

man. Firm hands took JS gently by the shoulder and turned him to face the man. “Not to me. To me,

you’ve always had a name.” JS studied the man more carefully. “Who are you?” The man smiled sadly

at JS, and whispered one word that chilled JS to the core. “Scorpionheart.” 

JS felt himself falling through time and space and reality, and yet he didn’t move at all. He just stared

dumbly at the man who sat before him. All his life, JS had been taught that the Scorpionhearted were a

group of mutant humans who had gone extinct a long time ago. They were savage beasts, who used

their mutations to consume and feed upon other humans. They were mindless killers, with the bodies of

humans. This man sitting across from him was nothing like those. He was a kind, young man who had

somehow rescued JS from the collapsing tunnel. “There’s more.” said the man. “Look at your left arm.”

JS looked at his arm, and saw nothing. “Turn your arm over.” the man commanded. JS did, and saw the

small, hook-shaped birthmark that he had grown up with. It was simply a patch or dark skin, not

unhealthy or malignant. The man raised his arm, and slowly turned it around. JS didn’t comprehend it

for a moment, didn’t know what it meant. Then he saw the small hook on his arm and JS’ heart

stopped. “You didn’t get all your skills and talents through just training a lot. No, you were born with

those very talents. JS-ARC-0969, you’re one of us.”.

JS didn’t know what to say, but even if he did he probably wouldn’t be able to say it. It all became clear

to him why he always excelled physically in whatever training he was required to undertake. It wasn’t

due to the hours that he spent every day in the combat room, or the mentality that he always had in
which ARC troopers must set an example for others. No, it was the very blood that pumped through his

body now that enabled such supernatural talents. The man continued to tell the story, the story of JS

and his heritage. “You are probably wondering why you don’t have lightning reflexes like I do, or the

strength to easily lift a car, or the agility to scale any surface, at any angle. The reason that you do not

have any of the Scorpionhearted talents and abilities is because you have not yet found yourself yet.

You did not believe you were Scorpionheart, and since you did not embrace your heritage, you could

not use its power yet. You see, the Scorpionheart are nothing special, really. We’re just normal people,

like everyone else. All we have is a little bit of scorpion blood in our veins, not much left though,

passed down from the first Scorpionhearts. When we believe in ourselves that we have the ability to do

amazing things, the little bit of scorpion blood allows us to temporarily enhance our bodies to reach

that goal.” JS pondered this for a moment. He was only as powerful as he believed he would be.

“Throw a rock at me, but don’t tell me when you are going to do it.” JS said, then faced the wall. He

eased his breathing, so it was natural and calm. The man grinned, and picked up a small, fist-sized rock.

“Are you sure?” JS opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped short when the man threw the rock at

his head. It wasn’t so much as he could see the rock, but more like an instinct, a brushing sensation on

the back of his neck. His body then reacted, moved without any thought. Without even looking, his

hand snapped up, and grabbed the rock at a mere inch from his skull. The man nodded. “Good. You are

beginning to find peace with yourself, and when you do that then you will see that all around you,

everything that happens, is also at peace. You are too weak for the training that all Scorpionhearts

undergo, and after everything I fear that your mental state may snap if we were to run the training

exercises now. However, if you will stay with us for a while after recovering, then our people will be

glad to show you the Scorpionhearted ancestry’s powers.” JS nodded. It would be his honor to learn

more about the secrets that ran through his very blood. JS still had many questions about the

Scorpionhearted, and he wanted to know the truth about who they really were. “In the meantime, tell

me more about our kind. Who actually are the Scorpionhearted, if they are not mindless savages.” The
man eased himself back into his chair. “The stories that are spread about us in the world above are foul,

distrustful, and angry. In fact, most stories in the upper world are. This is why our people chose to live

and make our secret homes in the underground, to hide away from all these humans who seek our

destruction. Over time, we developed tunnels that ran through the entire Earth. If you had the

navigation and memory that all Scorpionhearts have, some say that you could even make your way to

the other side of the planet. When those who seek our death find our tunnels and conflict is

unavoidable, we usually collapse that part of the tunnel, and no trace of us can be found.” The troopers

that had come with JS would no doubt report them to their officers, and suddenly JS realized that they

did not have much time left. The B.R.U.H. would come shortly, and wipe out their kind. “Do not

worry,” said the man as if reading his thoughts. “We have many eyes on the surface. By the time your

army arrives, we will be long gone, if you are so worried about our safety.” JS nodded. “Tell me the

story of our past. What resulted in our creation, and how did we come to be?” The man smiled. “This is

a long story, but it appears we both have all the time in the world. Let me tell you about a time before

the creation of the Scorpionhearted. A time before humans were created. In order to explain our past,

we have to travel all the way back. We have to travel to the time when the universe was nothing, and in

it existed only a powerful, bestial force…” The man then told the legend of the Scorpionhearted. He

spoke of the Great Scorpion, the creation of humans, and the creation of scorpions. The man wove

stories about the marriage of humans and scorpions, and the man told about the shattering of peace.

The man told of the war that humans raged on the Scorpionheart, and the retribution of the scorpions in

the Great Amblypygi War. And as the man told the story, he sang a beautiful song. A song of the past,

of identity, and of future. JS could almost feel himself being drawn back into the past. He could see the

Great Scorpion’s hands, creating life. He could smell the innocent blood that stained the humans’

hands. He could taste the scorpions’ venom as they clashed with humans. After the man summarized

the legend, he looked at JS and said, “You know, that is just one of the legends. No one really knows

where we came from, or if we’re even anything special. Maybe it’s just our mindsets that allows us to
perform those amazing feats, we can do them simply because we believe we can. And maybe there is

scorpion blood in us, not just in the Scorpionhearted, but in every person.” JS turned to the man. “Who

actually are you?” The man thought for a moment and answered, “Well, my birth name is

Mit’thra’wnuorodo, but I guess no one goes by their birth names anymore. I’m the Narrator.”

JS spent the next few days in the Narrator’s room, recovering and listening to all the different stories

that he told. He told many tales of glory, and many tales of defeat. The Narrator drew many pictures

with his words, and JS saw each one of the stories as vividly as if he were there to witness the battle.

Every day, the Narrator would leave the room in the morning, then return shortly after with a small

piece of meat. JS would eat the meat without complaining, even though it tasted stale and he didn’t

know exactly where it came from. One day, JS was well enough to walk, and he tested his legs gingerly

around the room. He could no longer move fast or gracefully, but he could move nethertheless. JS

asked the Narrator, “Tell me more about the talents of the Scorpionhearted. What exactly are our

powers and just how much can we achieve?” The Narrator nodded. “Well, there are many, many

different talents. To be honest, no one really knows all of them, and if I listed every single one known

to us, we would be here for the next day listening to me talk. Some of the more common talents that

almost every Scorpionheart has include speed, strength, agility, night vision, immunity to electricity

and fire, and intelligence. Rarer talents that we’ve also seen include the ability to control the minds of

sentients by touching them, shapeshifting, and the ability to see seconds into the future. Some

Scorpionheart legends even speak of beings who can instantaneously regenerate from wounds, and

some say teleportation isn’t out of our reach.” The Narrator laughed. “Well, most of those are just

stories. Me, I got none of the rarer talents that I mentioned. It’s a shame because I don’t even think I got

intelligence as one of my talents. ” JS grinned, and said, “Tell me more about what happened when I

was trapped in the collapsing tunnel.” 

The Narrator signaled to his strike team to attack on his command and jumped down from his hiding

spot on the ceiling. He landed in front of the group of invaders, and activated his electrical bo-staff. All

around him, Scorpionhearted warriors also jumped down, and surrounded the invaders. These were

ARC troopers, the Narrator could tell from the armor. They would be capable fighters, and hard to

eliminate. One of the ARC troopers lowered their weapon, and spoke, “No one needs to get hurt here,

we just want to know who you are and why you are here. If you are innocent, we will go in peace and

forget the fact that we even found you here. We will keep your organization or cult, whatever it is,

secret.” The man looked at this trooper in curiosity. Such respect for others and peace was very rarely

seen in ARC troopers, or even in any member of the B.R.U.H. corps. To the Narrator’s surprise, the

ARC trooper behind the first one put his pistol up against the speakers’ neck, and said something

inaudible. The Narrator could not allow an innocent man to be killed, and in that moment he struck the

second trooper. The bo-staff wouldn’t kill or permanently wound him, but it would knock him out for a

while. Seeing their cue, the strike team around him attacked the invaders. The first ARC trooper who

had spoken aimed his pistol at him and fired, but the Narrator easily side-stepped the bullet. He lashed

out with a roundhouse kick, and knocked the trooper to the ground. The trooper then aimed and fired a

bullet, which the Narrator easily deflected with his staff. The troopers began to retreat, and as a result

the Scorpionhearted warriors advanced. One of the troopers threw a grenade, and it shook the entire

tunnel. They followed the troopers into an open room, when the dust began falling. This room is going

to collapse, thought the Narrator. He signaled his troops to retreat, and they followed him to safety.

After waiting for a while in another room, the Narrator led his strike team through another tunnel to the

collapsed room to investigate. They could see no sign of any of the ARC troopers, and they began

looking for salvageable materials. One of the soldiers signalled to him, and pointed out an arm sticking

out from under the debris. There was no way the owner of the arm was still alive, collapsed under tons
of debris. Still, the Narrator summoned the other soldiers to his side, and together they removed the

slabs of rock off the man. The once shiny ARC armor that he wore now was completely ruined, cracked

and shattered in every place. Blood stained the man’s uniform, and leaked onto the floor around him.

Even though he was the enemy, he still deserves a proper burial, thought the Narrator. Upon closer

inspection, the Narrator could see that the man was the one who had held back his men from attacking.

Apparently, his own troops really did betray him and leave him for dead. The Narrator removed the

man’s helmet, and the face he saw chilled him to the heart. He knew this man. Slowly, the Narrator slid

the armor off the man’s left hand. Sure enough, a small, curved mark was present on his wrist. The

Narrator felt the man’s pulse, and just as he had expected the man was alive. There was no way a

Scorpionheart would be slain so easily. The Narrator was glad the man wasn’t dead, but until the time

came, the Narrator will pretend that he didn’t know the man personally. The Narrator will act as simply

his caretaker, nursing him back to full health. While tending to him, the Narrator will get the

opportunity to tell the man all about their kind, and reveal the darkness that the B.R.U.H. held hidden.

The Narrator took the man back to his room, and took off the pieces of armor from the man. He applied

a healing swave to the man’s wounds, and let him rest for a day.  The man looked much better, but still

did not wake after the second day, so the man slapped him in an attempt to bring him to consciousness.

It was necessary, as the man had not drank or eaten for many days already. The man stirred and

mumbled in his thoughts, but did not come to. So the man slapped him over and over again until he sat

up. 

JS sat up in his bed, and said to the Narrator, “I think I’m ready to begin the Scorpionheart’s training. I

can walk, and even run stiffly with a limp.” The Narrator looked seriously at JS and said, “You cannot

think that you are ready. If you are not ready, the training sessions will break you physically and

mentally. You must be ready.” The Narrator sighed. “We aren’t in the old days anymore though. We
don’t have infinite time to train our people, slowly tuning them to be perfect. Your training will start

tomorrow morning, when you wake up. Get some rest now. You’re going to need it, kid.” For once in

his life, JS was completely happy and content. He was going to learn the ways of the Scorpionhearted,

and he had finally found his place. A place where he belonged, and where he could push himself to the

very limits that his body can handle. This was his home. Not the monotonous, stone-cold training of an

B.R.U.H. recruit, but as a Scorpionheart, surrounded by friends and people with the same blood as him.

As JS rolled over and fell asleep, he could not remember the last time he was this happy. He felt like a

small boy who had just gotten a new toy; excited and eager to try out this new life.

JS drifted into the forest that plagued his dreams. As the sounds of his pursuers’ footsteps sounded

behind him, panic set in into his heart. He turned, and sprinted in the opposite direction. Maybe with

my new Scorpionhearted talents I can finally escape once and for all, JS thought. But for whatever

reason, the peace that JS had felt the night he went to sleep was still with him, despite the panic. It was

only a sliver, but it made him taller, run faster, more agile.Suddenly, something came to JS. What had

the Narrator said, we are only as powerful as we believe? JS knew that he could outrun the pursuer.

Suddenly, he realized he was better than his pursuer. He wasn’t afraid of them anymore. He would run

away no longer. Tumbling to a halt in the branches all around him, JS slowly turned around and faced

the pursuer. No one had emerged from the woods. “I’m not afraid anymore. I won’t run away from you

anymore. I’m not who I used to be. I’ve changed, and I am stronger now. Because I am not trooper

identification JS of legion 0969. I’m not just a number, or a trooper, or just a soldier. I’m JS, not JS the

trooper, but JS the Scorpionhearted. You hear me, pursuer? I’m JS the Scorpionhearted! Come on,

show yourself!” And as JS yelled the last words, he felt himself become stronger, more powerful. He

had ran away too long. Ran away from his past too long. The forest trees rustled, and out stepped the

unknown tormentor. His features were always shifting, at one point he looked like the officer, and then
he looked like the Narrator. Finally, the man was face to face with JS, and JS saw that he was none of

those people. JS looked at the man, and saw who he feared most. JS stared into the face of himself.

JS slowly sat up in his bed, understanding everything that had happened with ultimate clarity. The

nightmares that he had about running away from a pursuer who was unknown was a symbol of how he

had always ran away from his past, although he did not know he was running away from it. When the

Narrator had pointed out where the pursuer had been coming from in his dream, it was foreshadowing

the Narrator revealing JS’ Scopionhearted heritage. When JS finally turned around and confronted the

pursuer in the dreams, it really meant that JS accepted that he was a Scorpionheart, and he was no

longer ashamed of who he was. It all made sense to him now. The mission, the nightmares, they’re

finally over. 

JS saw the Narrator sitting next to him on his chair, smiling. “I see you have finally found yourself. You

were saying something about how you no longer had to run away in your sleep.” JS nodded. “Yes. I’ve

accepted that I’m a Scorpionheart, and I’m proud to be one. Now, let’s start the training.” The Narrator

patted JS on the shoulder and slowly, the two of them headed out into the tunnel, traveling deep into

Scorpionhearted territory. And as the two figures slowly faded into the darkness, talking and laughing,

there was peace in not only the two of them, but in everything around them. And as the figures could no

longer be seen, a conversation emanated from them and seeped into the world around them, seemingly

reviving all around the two people. The first voice, older and reassuring. “You know, the

Scorpionhearted is lucky to have a soldier like you.” Then the second voice responded. “Not as lucky

as I am to have a brother like you.”

Epilogue:

“Sir.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No. I couldn’t. They attacked me before I could.”

“And where were you two?”

“We left him for dead, sir. He was trapped in a collapsing tunnel, and he had no way of surviving it.”

“Affirmative.”

“You morons. He is not dead. As we speak, he is with his kind, training no doubt. If he learns of the skill

and power that he possesses and uses it, we are as good as dead.”

“Sir, his kind does not know he is one of them. They also attacked him in the underground.”

“They will find out soon enough. Their kind usually does not terminate prisoners.”

“Give us more time. I promise you that in the right time, my son will be dead at your feet.”

“Very well. I will give you your next objective.”