Sitting in his plush chair in his newly furnished office, Dr. Ethan Nathaniel brooded. While it was true that he had managed to secure a higher position for himself in Chronos, the cost had been one that was going to haunt him for a good, long time. The price had been the life of Ryan Crouger, the son of two very good friends of his. He and Ryan had even started to develop a friendship of their own, but of course all of that was over now.

Dr. Balkus would probably dissect him, or brainwash him—something to keep the second-to-last Guyver from ever being able to do anything that would interfere with Chronos’ plans. And Ethan himself had been a party to that betrayal: he was responsible for everything that happened to that poor boy. And he would have to live with himself for every day of the rest of his life, knowing that he had sold out a boy that he had started to become friends with.

Ryan’s parents didn’t know of his own personal role in the disappearance of their son, since one of the other divisions had given the report. He’d just had to sign it, and he’d done that without even taking the time to read through it, not wanting to think any more about what he’d done. Whatever excuses Chronos had prepared for Ryan’s immediate family were bound to be airtight. It had to be, to keep them from coming to the hospital to demand to know where their son was.

Dr. Nathaniel knew that whatever excuse Chronos had given them would give Norman and Norma no reason to try and find out what was going on with their son, but he just had no desire to know what that particular excuse had been. Ever. He may have been on Chronos’ payroll; he may have been effectively enslaved by their anti-rebellion virus; but he had at least some freedom left, even if that freedom mostly consisted of being able to ignore the tings he didn’t like. He may not have been overly fond of the hand he’d been dealt, but nothing as evil as Chronos could survive for very long.

Ethan knew that if he kept on living, he’d eventually find a way to rebel against the ones who had created Chronos in the first place. Where there was life there was hope, after all.

As he made his way slowly closer to where the tingling in his shoulders seemed to be coming from – at least judging by the way it kept getting stronger the closer he came – Ryan got the distinct feeling that he was being watched, and more than that, that he was being followed. Walking on, playing like he hadn’t noticed a thing, Ryan tried to gauge just what kind of person was following him.

From the sound of the footsteps, his follower was pretty big, which probably meant that whoever was following him was a guy. Either that, or a very big woman, but Ryan didn’t think that was very likely, since the few women he’d seen here were wither normal sized or looked like buff gymnast-types. So definitely—probably—a guy.

"Ahh!" he yelped in response to the guy-who-was-probably-male reaching out and grabbing his ass. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" Swatting the offending hand off, Ryan turned to confront the ass-grabber. "Next time you try to molest me, I’m going to kick you in the face, pervert."

"You’re a guy?!"

"Oh, you finally noticed," Ryan drawled, rolling his eyes as he started pushing the supply cart again. "It’s not like I have a really feminine figure, you know." Jackass.

"Hey, you were the one wearing baggy clothes. What, you couldn’t find a uniform that actually fit?"

"And just because I was wearing baggy clothes, you assumed that I was a girl and decided to grope my ass," Ryan sneered. "You’re not really familiar with Earth-logic are you, Chachi?"

"Don’t call me Chachi," Pissy Pervert guy snapped. "The name’s Richard, got that, kid?"

"Whatever you say, Dick."

"And don’t call me Dick, either, kid."

"The guy who just groped my ass does not get to specify what I can and can’t call him. Now back off, I’ve got stuff to clean."

Ryan turned away from Pissy Pervert guy, pushing the cart toward the room where the "call" he was getting seemed to be strongest.

"I don’t recall ever meeting you, kid," Pissy Pervert guy said, falling into step beside him as he continued to walk. "I’ve got a good memory for faces, too."

"I’m new," Ryan lied easily as they finally made it to the door of the room Ryan wanted to be inside. The call was really strong now, throbbing in his shoulders and making him want to be inside that room, just so he could find out what the hell was going on.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense," the guy said as he continued to keep pace with Ryan as he walked.

"Don’t you have some other place to be? You look like a pretty busy guy," Ryan said, trying not to make the get-the-hell-away-from-me vibes too strong, not wanting to piss the guy off too much.

"I don’t really have anywhere to be right now," the guy said, slinging an arm around Ryan’s shoulders as they walked, even as Ryan tried not to cringe. "Besides, I’d like to do something to make up for the way I treated you when we first met."

"You mean for the way you groped my ass," Ryan said, giving the guy a sidelong look. He seemed to have a fairly good sense of humor, so Ryan figured it was safe to screw with him a little.

"Yeah, that," the guy said, chuckling in a slightly self-deprecating manner.

"I kinda need to get in this room," Ryan said, once they stood before the door.

"Just use your pass-code, small fry."

Crap. "Well, I’d do that, but I kind of forgot it." Ryan gently rapped himself on the head with his knuckles. "Mind like a sieve, me."

"No wonder they stuck you out here with the scutwork," the guy remarked, grinning as he punched in a certain combination into the keypad by the right side of the door.

Ryan didn’t even bother trying to memorize it, since judging by what ol’ Dick had said, the code was different for everyone. So trying to get into the rooms with a "borrowed" door code probably wasn’t the best idea, or even a possible one, given the way all these guys seemed to be completely obsessive about their security.

One of the guys inside the room—someone in a long lab coat who Ryan didn’t have to look at that long to recognize as a scientist—turned to look him over.

"What are you doing in here?"

Since the question was obviously directed at him, Ryan answered, "Mopping. Maybe a side of dusting, too. I’m not completely sure about that, but mostly I’m here for the mopping."

"Let me see your work order," one of the stuffier-looking scientists huffed, holding out his hand.

And, of course, double crap. "I think I left that in my other uniform."

"You mean the one that actually fits?" Dick ribbed, grinning.

"Yeah," Ryan said, smirking back. "I kind of overslept and had to get dressed in a hurry. And then I couldn’t find my locker… but all that’s in the past now," Ryan said, shrugging with what he hoped was convincing nonchalance. "And I’ve got mopping to do. So I’m just going to go over there and start, yeah?" Ryan said, pointing over at the far wall of the room.