Vargas Metatron reviewed his new troops. A regiment of clones fresh from the tanks was standing to attention before him. The warriors had passed all the physical and mental tests and then went through basic training. Would this be enough to confront the wrath of Merin’s hounds?
Vargas moved among the ranks. The copper-colour of his skin contrasted with the ivory-colour of that of these fighters. “They will burn,” he thought, “but they will become used to it.”
Suddenly he began shouting. “Welcome to a world without mercy, warriors. Each one of you will get his regulation equipment. Then you will undergo more training. Tomorrow we will go and fight against the orcs. Show yourselves worthy of Dirz, our creator!”
