As Gregole loaded the red-haired kid who was the newest Guyver onto a gurney and strapped him down, he decided to add a bit of extra insurance against the Guyver’s escape. The kid looked like he was completely out of it, but in Gregole’s experience, one could never really trust a Guyver. Removing two pairs of handcuffs from his satchel, he quickly slapped them onto the kid’s wrists and snapped the other halves closed around the railings of the gurney. It probably wouldn’t do shit if the kid woke up while they were transporting him, but it did do something for Gregole’s peace of mind.

Looking up, he saw that his fellow Zoanoid, a Ramochis, was now carrying a blanket. Before Gregole could even ask what it was for, the Ramochis had draped it over the kid and was smoothing it out over his arms and legs. The blanket covered the handcuffs nicely, making it obvious just why the Ramochis had gotten it in the first place.

"Nice idea, Ram," Gregole nodded.

"Thanks Greg," the Ramochis said.

With that, both Zoanoids left the exam room. They were dressed like a pair of hospital orderlies for this mission, so they didn’t look that much out of place in there. Catching sight of another group of Zoanoids—three Vamore this time—Gregole and the Ramochis strode calmly over to their fellows.

"Is that the kid? He doesn’t look like much," the first Vamore said.

"Yeah, this is him," Gregole assured him. "Besides, you got the same reports about that Fukamachi kid that the rest of us did. You can’t say he looks much better than this one."

"Yeah, I guess you have a point there, Greg."

With that acknowledgment, the five Zoanoids continued to walk in silence. This hospital had been staffed with a few of the lower-ranked processing techs, but no one had ever really suspected that something as important as a new Guyver would ever be reported by this lower-rung place. One thing was for sure, though: old man Nathaniel was in for a serious promotion after calling this one in.

This, as far as the five Zoanoids were concerned, was a very good thing, since old man Nathaniel at least treated the Standard Zoanoids like they were something other than expendable cannon-fodder. It would be nice to have someone who halfway cared about them working in the processing division with the other techs. There were a few people curious enough to ask about the kid they were transporting, but just telling them how sick he was deterred all of those people.

That was another advantage to working in a hospital: any of the longer disappearances could be explained away as just a more difficult case. And if there were a few mishaps during the processing, altering medical records was easy for Chronos.

It wasn’t all that easy for Gregole to keep himself from smirking at all the humans who were walking past, going about their practically meaningless lives. Chronos would change all of that, of course, giving the humans something to really live for, beyond all the small and petty things that caused so much trouble for everyone. Looking down again at the kid who was the newest Guyver, Gregole found himself wondering just what was going to happen to him.

Chronos didn’t like Guyvers as a general rule, so that brought up the question of just what they were going to do with the kid once they had him. Gregole didn’t like the Guyvers much either, but he had really only heard rumors about them, and besides all of that, the kid had just become a Guyver. It wasn’t really fair for Gregole to judge him based on the stuff two other guys had been doing.

Besides, this Guyver was going to end up working for Chronos anyway, so that was one more reason not to hate him. And he kinda looks like my kid brother, Gregole chuckled to himself. It was hard to take anyone as a serious threat when they looked like someone you had seen dragging a teddy bear all over the house or running around in diapers. Of course, his kid brother was a lot younger than this kid was.

They were almost at the parking lot, Gregole noticed, so he got a better grip on the side of the gurney that he was holding. Two of the Vamore folded up the wheels of the gurney, and the other three quickly and easily took the weight of the gurney. There was a transport truck waiting for them, parked unobtrusively in the middle of the lot and made up to look like an ambulance. Gregole had to smirk at that, since it was sure to get them to their destination a hell of a lot faster than a normal truck.

There was no conversation between the five Zoanoids as they made their way to the "ambulance" with their burden. The kid was starting to move a bit, but not really enough that any of them were concerned about it. After all, there was no way that the kid was going to wake up before they got to where they were going. Now that they were all standing in the disguised Chronos transport, the two doctors who had been waiting inside the truck stepped forward.

"Thank you for getting him this far; we can take it from here."

And with that, the two docs started pulling the gurney into the truck. Gregole and one of the Vamore helped them to hoist the gurney into the truck, and then all of the Zoanoids turned and walked back into the hospital.

XxXxXxX

Dr. Travis Alvers, another one of the lower-level processing technicians that worked for Chronos, stared down at the red-haired boy who had somehow come into the possession of a Guyver Unit. Since the two Guyvers from Japan had disappeared during the raid on the base at Mt. Minakami, Chronos had been sure that there would be no others to oppose them. Then this boy had showed up.

Dr. Alvers’ coworker, Dr. Benson, picked up one of the tanks of knockout gas that had been prepared for the boy’s transportation and, lifting his head, fixed the breathing mask over the lower half of his face. Dr. Alvers heard a soft hiss as the gas was turned on and saw the boy give a mild sort of twitch as he presumably struggled to regain consciousness. It was a futile gesture, of course.

This gas had been specially mixed by Dr. Balkus to keep the boy unconscious without killing him, and there was no way that the boy would ever be able to rouse himself before they all had reached Chronos. Under the blanket that had been draped over the body, Dr. Alvers caught sight of the handcuffs that one of the Zoanoids had affixed to both of his wrists and wondered just which one of them had done that.

It was a noble gesture, but it would probably have been futile if the boy had somehow managed to fight off the sedative and wake up.

"What do the higher-ups want us to do with him?" Dr. Benson asked, mildly curious.

"They want us to get him to the base in Denver. Beyond that I don’t know," Dr. Alvers said, loading the second tank of knockout gas onto the shelf within easy reach.

The rest of the drive was in silence as the two doctors continued to watch over their unconscious charge. Once their truck had parked, the two doctors and one Guyver were escorted into the base at Chronos Denver. The Zoanoids at this base were the standard models for this part of the world, unlike those at some of the other bases who were imported from the other branches of Chronos.

A pair of Donlun helped to remove the gurney from the back of the truck. As the two humans and two Zoanoids wheeled the gurney out into the parking lot and from there into the Chronos Denver building, they didn’t say a word. What was there to say, really?