“What do you mean you can't find any records of what we did to them? How are we supposed to be able to kill them or even replicate them if we don't have those files?" Her face was contorted with anger, making it that much scary under her already aged skin covered and splotched with wrinkles and discolorations. Her dusty hair sat on top of her head in a disheveled, quickly put up bun, her glasses on the edge of her nose, thin wires shaped precisely. She scowled at the man, radiating her despise and discontent.
     “I'm sorry, mistress, but they all seem to have been obliterated.”
     “So what do you propose we do now, Regus?” Her nostrils flared, her head cocking dangerously to the side as she ceased her pacing.
     "We use the next best thing."
     She shifted her weight. "Oh?" Her voice danced through a higher octave, abnormally sweet in its ringing. "And what would that be?"
     "The Mistakes."
     She considered.
     "You know as well as I do we don't have any control over them whatsoever," she pointed out. "And that won't help us with the replicating. Though, I guess there's always time to rediscover that... Such a motley batch they are."
     "Very true, mistress, but there's already some Mistakes on the loose. What could be the problem with letting out more?"
     "No no, we don't want to rush it. If we let too many out at one time, they'll just kill one another. We must let those already acquainted with their beloved territory have the first say in killing them. If it is required, we can always filter out more. This could prove very promising, Regus. Good work."
     He understood how generous her simple 'good work' was. Compliments were rarely given out.
     She continued: "And it'll save us on Fighters, too. You're sadly a limited, and dwindling, supply." She sighed, sitting back down in her high-backed chair and leaning onto her desk, fist pressed thoughtfully to her chin.
     The Fighter was about to take his leave from the room when an idea came to his mind. A possible chance to pry information.
     "Mistress... Have you any idea what will become of the others? Not in the death sense, of course."
     She smiled faintly. "No. That's the beauty of it. Maybe there'll be a failure of their own among them. Can the whole bunch be considered in the reading?" His expression folded in consideration at that as he allowed it.
     He was about to respond with a yes, but the tag in his ear buzzed. A man's voice began speaking:
     "There's been a break in, area five-eight-six."