In collaboration with: [@Ariamis]

[center][h1]Harold Reborn[/h1][/center][hr]

Back in Solaire, a woman's laugh could be heard from deep in Lorenzo's laboratory. While the main scientist himself continued his work with a strange glowing orb, Daria was prodding and poking at the man before him. At a glance it looked like Harold has come back to life, but in truth, he was the latest experiment in the facility's cloning program, able to grow a grown man in mere months, instead of the longer period of time it took for Irina's batch.

"Sir, it was a success! Harold is alive. HE'S ALIIVEE! HAHAA!" Daria bombastically announced, and gave the man a friendly slap on the cheek. "And he's even got a sense for pain~"

Lorenzo sighed, annoyed with the busty assistant's excitement. "Cut it out Daria, stop playing with the subject. Have you finished up the aptitude tests for him?"

"Of course. I've got all the courses ready for him as virtual reality programs. He'll be soon our beloved Harold Buell...junior, teehee."

"Implanting old memories...This has never worked before, but hell, might as well try." He waved goodbye to the two as Daria led Harold along on a leash, as if he was her pet. Thankfully she deigned him the grace of wearing his Framewerk uniform as well, or it would have been a strange sight.

Daria set the man into the machine, and for weeks upon weeks the man spent every waking moment living through critical moments of his progenitor's life, as was collected during the time he participated in virtual training. He learned of the way the original Harold thought, felt, and dreamed, until the day came when he would leave the pod as the man that once died.
"Hmm, seems like our boy has done himself a resurrection. Now, listen up Cadet. What's your name?"

Harold had stepped out of the memory implanting machine dazed. No, more than dazed. He felt like he was drunk. His vision was blurred and he had to grip onto the machine's coffin lid just to remain standing up. His blue eyes were unfocused, and his pale skin was slick with sweat. His brain was still processing the events of an entire lifetime. Every time he closed his eyes, even just to blink, he would see still images of faces and scenery, some colored, some black and white. These images came like a rapid slideshow to his mental eye and were accompanied by disembodied voices, some dear to him, and some not so. But there were some memories that were like motion pictures as opposed to slideshows. They even featured music and sound. Invariably, these little videos brought up some fierce emotion within him when they came to his mind's focus. He was experiencing such an event at that moment.

The woman before him was asking for his name. But at the same time, he was hearing something else. The voice of a man who he only recently learned was a close friend. Micheel was what he was called. He was saying goodbye over the radio.

Harold had the urge to tell Ensign Micheel to abort his suicide run. It was a pointless gesture. The Cruxi had already set up an effective anti-fighter screen as they pushed into the base. He almost faltered and yelled - but Harold found enough mental fortitude in him not to be swayed by phantasms. The line wasn't very clear, but he could at least distinguish what was real and what was not. And slowly, he could feel his perception getting clearer.

Something in the back of his head also told him that the woman was a person of superior rank. His training kicked in and forced his dizzy self to salute.

He began to speak. His throat felt either very dry or very wet. He couldn't tell which sensation it was. "Ensign Harold Buell, Pilot, Team Sigma, serial number GB-774-332-174."

"Aahh, you can talk with no defects, how wonderful~" Daria reached out for Harold's head, and sensually stroked it with her hand, not unlike the time she made the same move on Zim.
"Do you remember the Cruxi?" She next asked, curious to see his reaction. "Do you remember what they have done?"

"The Cruxi?" Harold's eyes were having just a bit of trouble focusing. He was trying to stand stock still, but the woman's headpatting was making merry hell with his sense of balance. "They... they took the station. They killed the marines. Almost killed me. Then they..." he squinted his eyes. His mind was processing another memory. "... they're attacking a planet. One with two large colonies. I'm supposed to... get in there with my team. Search and destroy. Defend our perimeter if... we've established it?"

"Where is Rostosov?" he added. "Where am I? Uh, permission to speak freely."

Daria giggled to herself, with a finger at her lip. "Why yes, you do. But, you did go and defend the planet, Harold...and you died." She paused for a moment for dramatic effect. "And now, you have been brought back. Do you understand what that means? It means that you have been given a second chance to fight, and to protect humanity. Isn't that right?"

Harold blinked. "So I understand that I was wounded in action, and have been recovering for all this time?"

Daria pouted, her hand sliding down to the clone's shoulder, swiftly gliding across his facial features. "Hmm, you could say that. But the important fact is that you must train and prepare yourself for a new battle. And this time, you won't be given a new chance." She pushed her hand on his shoulder, testing his balance. "Are you prepared to give your all once more?"

Harold appeared to have recovered somewhat from his stupor. It was not a perfect recovery, but he weathered the shove and returned to attention within an acceptable timeframe as detailed in the Standard Officer's Etiquette Handbook.

"I understand," he said, slowly after a pause. "That I have been careless in handling important military hardware and further incompetence will no longer be tolerated. I understand that the maximum penalty for such competence is summary execution. I can't remember much of what happened on my last mission, ma'am, but whatever fuck-up I did, I will be sure not to repeat it. Pardon my language."

"Hmm...he he...Ha haaa!" Daria suddenly laughed with glee, and before the man could react he was grabbed in a hug, his face pushed right between her ample assets, causing him to lose his breath. "I'm so happy to hear that! It really worked! Aaahh, this is a break-through!"
As Harold began losing consciousness, Daria realized the danger of her hug, and released him. "Whoops, respiration may still be developing, so I should be cautious, tee hee~"

Harold withdrew sharply, entirely unprepared for what had just happened. As his mind continued to delve into memories, it was also considering whether the events of the last moment were sexual harrassment as detailed in the military penal code. He blinked - and felt that he should have laughed, or made a quip - but for some reason his usual humor failed him.

He unslackened his jaw and looked sharply at the woman. His memories - rather, the memories with the most vibrance - told him that he should stand at the most rigid attention and ignore trivialities. So that's what he did, and with a clear, well-modulated voice he said,

"What are my orders?"

Daria's smile turned into a serious scowl. "Your new orders...Are to make new memories. Memories that belong to you, and only you. Whether it will be fighting in training, or fighting in reality, you will mold your own destiny. And to start, it would be wise to sharpen up those skills in some VR combat." Daria gestured towards the pod. "Once you feel you are ready, come report to me again. Then we'll see how you'll fare back with the big boys." With that said, Daria turned and left, her swinging hips being the last the man saw of Lorenzo's assistant.

Harold turned to the pod. He was certain some protocols were not met - but then again, he was in the care of the medical arm, and he was unfamiliar with their regulations. Though, that woman was very strange for an army surgeon. For her and her staff to keep VR training facilities in this room - if this even is a medical room - was something of an abnormality. Harold felt a little hungry, and he felt a certain anxiety from not being immediately debriefed on what had happened since his last mission - but he had his orders. His orders were to train, and so he stepped towards the VR pod and opened the door.

"I will complete my orders," he muttered to himself. In the swirling chaos of his mind still looking to right itself, orders were something that gave structure. So Harold grasped this structure, and grasped it tight, as he sank his mind and body into the combat simulation.