The hybrid really was beautiful. Pristine white feathers that stretched out long on her wings, like a dove's. They seemed to glisten in the white overhead lighting of the containment unit. Six doesn't understand why they have to keep her in their; in that cold, desolate room with nothing to keep her occupied. She'll go crazy. He knows he shouldn't care... but he does.

She's just a little thing. Five years old at most. Her wings aren't fully developed, but she's still a pretty little bird. He remembers the day he found her like it was yesterday. He had been infiltrating Lloyd Hansen's base in an attempt to find the hard drive that the CIA seemed so intent on getting back. Six didn't know what was on it, but that was the least of his concerns. The little dove hybrid in the cage, was.

He feels pride in the fact that he's the only one who can get close to her. Hear her little coos and preen her feathers for her, feed her. She doesn't let anyone else near her. She's been quiet for weeks, locked in the containment unit on base, only communicating in coos. Until today.

The Director stands next to him as they stare through the two-way mirror into the containment room, at the little dove hybrid.

"She wants you. Said it herself." Miranda says lowly, his voice quiet.