Megaman X:  Twisted

Author's Prologue:

     I've always enjoyed the Mega Man series, and I've loved the X series since it first came out. In it, I saw the chance for Capcom to stick with the tried-and-true Mega Man format, give a far more versatile gameplay environment, and go beyond the "Dr. Wily is back" motive. And it did. Yes, it definitely did. Unfortunately, it seems to have gotten stuck on a "Sigma is back" motive, which really isn't that big of an improvement in the end. And by the time you finish X5, it's basically an extended version of "Dr. Wily is back" anyway.

     To be quite blunt, I think Capcom has engineered the story in such a way that it lends itself to sequels. Lots of them. Either that, or they got their hands on some mighty fine dope. Regardless, it's good for my gaming pleasure, but not so good for an honest-to-goodness fanfic. There's only been five parts, and it's already beginning to spout discrepancies and a Swiss cheese plot. To say nothing of that god-awful dialogue in X4 and X5. And the characters designers apparently have a rapidly evolving fetish about giving reploids HUGE FEET. Although for the record, the Guns n' Roses-esque names somehow struck me as an improvement over the normal names...

     Fortunately, there was another option for me. Rather than try to muddle through five games for a second time, half of which I'm having trouble even finding, why not just twist it all around a little? One of the goddesses of RPG fan fiction, Tamarine, already did it to Final Fantasy VII, with absolutely fantastic results. And there have been others. So why don't I give it a shot with the Mega Man X series? It had some great characters, and excellent premise to build upon (Not unlike Bubblegum Crisis 2040 meets X-Men in many ways, actually). It can't possibly be too bad, can it? </famous last words>

     So I'm going to take a run at it. As far as the Mega Man X continuity is concerned, this story picks up right where the first game left off. That is, X2, 3, 4, and 5 have not happened. I repeat, X2, 3, 4 and 5 (or any future games in the series) have NOT happened. And they never will happen after this is done either. As the story progresses, some familiar characters may appear, but as far as the actual events the characters were involved in - they never happened. That said, you can probably expect me to have a good reason for bothering to pull those particular characters into the fray. While events may happen differently, I like to think that I'll be keeping with the spirit of the game's underlying themes.

     But I suppose that you'll simply have to judge for yourself.

Mark 'Intrasonic' Gross
Valley of the Wind Productions
https://www.angelfire.com/on2/intrasonic/index.html

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(Excerpt)

     This is admittedly more of a stream of abstract thought than anything else. And I'm probably biassed on account of being human. But I'm fairly certain that most are similarly biassed. The underlying question?

     Why is being human so superior?

     I watch television and movies, I read books, I play video games, and all too often, I'm presented with characters or entities who are somehow 'not human'. Rather, they are unfeeling machines or automatons, either devoid or in denial of their feelings. And they're often bombarded by the fact that humanity is something to be worked towards, something to be obtained. And when it is obtained, another step towards the proverbial happy ending has been attained.

     Is this really true? What is it that makes humanity a superior form of existence? And inversely, what makes a machine an inferior form of existence? Our innate strength is exceeded by the simplest of robots, our flesh is fragile and tears easily. Our minds are chaotic and random, easily surpassed by the diodes and electronic pathways within computers. Our persistence and determination will always pale in comparison to a machine that lacks any alternate programming. Our soul? When one resorts to flaunting something that's existence has yet to be truly verified, what does that say?

     Our emotions, then. Their existence is a given, yet their nature defies any pattern of logic or common sense. One emotion can evoke a variety of actions, yet a single action can bring forth a variety of emotions. An insanely complex process, to say the least. One that often emerges at inconvenient times, often leading to dire consequences. Great men have been reduced to mindless fools and countries led to war because of an unchecked emotion that became strong enough to invoke action.

     It is a fortunate thing then, that while we have emotions from birth, time must pass before we possess the strength and power to take action upon such feelings. And so, in lieu of the ability to immediately act on our feelings, we are forced to reconcile them without taking action. And by the time we gain the power we need to take action, we have learned to come to grips with and control our emotions. A very fortunate thing indeed.

     And when a robot or machine is simply 'given' the ability to feel emotions, we are to rejoice? How is that different than giving an immature child the power of a fully grown individual? To give a robot with the power of a person, if not tenfold, the ability to feel emotions? Without removing its power to act upon them?

     Don't rejoice. Just run like hell.

-Date unknown, writer unknown

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     Maverick Hunter Headquarters.

     A home to those who would stand between humanity and the double-edged sword they had created. For the average person living day to day, always with a hint of fear of what the next day could bring, it was a source of no small comfort.

     A riot in the local shopping district.

     A collapse at a construction site.

     An explosion in the city park.

     A standoff at the harbour.

     A firefight at the power plant.

     In a day and age where humanity was dependant on something on a worldwide scale, the fact that the same something could spontaneously go on an insane rampage was something that simply had to be ignored and dealt with as expediently as possible.

     Enter the reploid.

     The pinnacle of robotic science, and without a doubt, the defining factor of society worldwide. While most technology was simply a refinement of an earlier stage, there were few would try to argue that the reploid was merely a refinement of a simple robot. Though appearances could be deceiving at first, it only took a few exposures to convert even the most stubborn.

     As one reporter had once so aptly put it:

     "Dr. Light was truly a man ahead of his time. To believe that the reploid is merely an improved robot is simply... ludicrous. One only has to talk with a reploid, to see it laugh or cry, to see its curiosity, to see it become embarrassed... Even his legendary Mega Man design pales in comparison to the sheer... humanity exhibited by the reploid. I, for one, would be hardly surprised to learn that they merely a subset of humanity itself..."

     Unfortunately, that reporter may have been more correct than they realized.

*********************

     It was a party.

     While the mood of the party-goers ranged from jubilant to depressed to enthusiastic to subdued, it was most certainly a party. And as far as the reason behind the celebration was concerned, the attendees were at least united in that respect.

     "Have another drink, X."

     The aforementioned reploid accepted the glass of... he wasn't quite sure what it was. He also wasn't quite sure what the last two had been either, but the slightly fuzzy effect they were having on him was rather agreeable right now. While a robot wouldn't even blink after downing several drums of alcohol, reploids were another matter. Even though they weren't nearly as prone to the effects of alcohol, it hadn't taken long for some ingenious people to concoct some brews that a reploid would feel. "Thanks."

     The bartender smiled. "On the house for tonight, you know that. So why the sad face? You missing your combat gear so soon, fearless hero?"

     In spite of his mood, X managed a smile. "I'll get by without it, I think."

     "So why the sad face? You still down over Zero?"

     The smile faded again. "Yeah, I guess so. He should be here, right now, you know. He's the real hero in all this."

     "Don't be so quick to downplay what you did, X. And if you don't believe a bartender like me, why don't you chat it up with Blade and Terry? They're both pretty bummed out too. "

     "Katana?"

     A nod. "Why don't you go make it a trio? Talking about things is supposed to be good for you, and even better if the one you're talking with understands. I miss a lot of the Hunters, but I didn't fight beside them like you did."

     "I never actually knew all their names," X mused sombrely. "Now I don't think I'll ever know some of them. I've seen them on the KIA reports, but I'll never be able to put a face to them."

     "It's over, kid. That's the important thing. You wasted that bastard Sigma, so we don't have to worry about anyone else joining them. Why don't you try and help Blade and Terry think that way too?"

     "Guess you're right. Maybe I'll go talk with them."

     Picking up his drink of... something, X made his way across the lounge. He was occasionally stopped for the purposes of congratulations, but most of the people present had already done so before. He gave the expected nods and thanks before continuing on his way to his intended destination.

     As the bartender had mentioned, Blade and Terry were together at a table, both silently sipping drinks. Both were hunters from the 12th division, one of the few that had stayed behind after Sigma had gone Maverick. Actually, the only other division that hadn't left was the 17th, which he himself joined a few months later. Blade was one of the more experienced hunters in his group, having joined some time before X himself had signed up, while Terry had only been a hunter for... a few weeks at most.

     "How's it going?" he inquired, sitting down in one of the free chairs.

     Blade gave him a dirty look. "Just peachy, hero. Just peachy."

     "Katana?"

     The hunter winced, seeming to sink back down in his seat. "He led us for over half a year, ever since Kally was destroyed. Took the 12th to hell and back again, always in front. And then he had to go get himself wasted one week before we finally won. Tell me where the justice is in that."

     "I know what you mean."

     Blade brushed a stray strand of black hair from his face, offering an irritated look. "Sure you do. Ain't easy being the hero of the day, is it? Must be hard, everyone congratulatin' you over wasting Sigma like you did. Why don't you just-"

     "I used Zero's arm cannon to do it, you know."

     The hunter seemed to deflate at that. "Sorry, buddy. Guess y'do know what I mean."

     "Zero oughta be here too," Terry agreed, finally speaking. "The guy was... I dunno, arrogant as hell most times, to hear the 17th talk about him. But he knew how to fight, nobody could ever deny that. I imagine even Katana didn't hold a candle to him in a fight."

     "You didn't see him when he first came," Blade added. "I reckon you didn't either, X. Back when Sigma first went traitor on us. I betcha every hunter woulda followed him, but Zero was the one who stood up to the slime. Bad enough that only the 12th and the 17th really stuck around, but I don't think they woulda have stuck around either. And then where would we be right now?"

     "Looking worse than X, probably," Terry noted, finishing his drink.

     X sighed, once again noting his condition. He'd already removed his combat armour and weaponry, but even his clothing was in less than ideal shape. To say nothing of the quiet grinding noise he could feel half his joints making. Combat was quite possibly the cruelest testing environment ever devised for reploid parts. "I haven't gotten around to changing yet. And I have to get the repair bay to refurbish my armour and get a few parts fixed. Besides, other hunters need the repairs more than I do."

     "Not anymore. Almost everyone's all but fixed up right now. That's why a lot of the R&D staff are here at the celebration instead of in their department right now."

     "Word is," Terry noted, "that they're going to be pulling apart Sigma's fortress with a fine tooth comb as soon as they get the word from Dr. P. As early as tomorrow, possibly. She's doing some preliminary stuff right now, apparently. At least, that's what I heard."

     "What the heck does Phoebe want with all that mess?" Blade muttered. "Just nuke it to dust and be done with it. Beats the hell out of me how she gets away with all her tinkering."

     "She's probably nuts, but she's not that bad. Now Jenny on the other hand..."

     "Aw, come on," X chastised lightly. "You know the milkshake incident was just an accident. She was absolutely horrified over it all."

     "Maybe, but Buzz had to spend three days gettin' his hydraulic systems purged because she didn't finish her drink up the lounge. And if Buzz had been on the lines with the rest of us that time..."

     "We got swarmed," Terry reminded Blade. "Completely and utterly swarmed. Everyone did last week. Buzz is as good as any of us, but we still took losses then. It wouldn't have made much difference. Hell, if hadn't been for Katana..." The reploid trailed off, going for his glass before realizing that it was now empty. "Hell... this lounge needs bigger glasses."

     X poured half of his drink into the empty container, taking another swallow afterwards from his own. "It sucks," he agreed quietly, not bothering to specify what the target of the accusation was. "It really does."

     "You... hear anything from high command?" Terry inquired, making a half-hearted attempt at a topic-change.

     "Not really. They'll be officially disbanding the 12th and the 17th at the awards ceremony this afternoon. No sense in delaying now that the war's over. Awards for everyone. Yay."

     "Bullshit," was Blade's opinion. "It's just public relations garbage. They don't need a ceremony for that stuff. Just send everyone an envelope with a ribbon and a severance check and shut down this building."

     "What? You wish the war was still happening?"

     "Hell no. I wish it'd been over a year ago. But I didn't join because I thought it was so damn noble or the 'right' thing to do, whatever that's supposed to mean. I joined because someone had to stop Sigma, and the guys I was working with were scared spitless. And I'd rather give my two credits worth fighting, than just sit around and wait for some psycho maverick next-door to take me down. I just want to get back to my old job at the transport service."

     X had to laugh a little. "That must be why they didn't ask you to make a speech tonight."

     "They asked you, huh?"

     "Lucky me. Must be my punishment for doing my job."

     "Is it that bad?" Terry inquired. "Just rattle off a bunch of gibberish about how you're proud of have fought for the forces of justice and they'll applaud and then you can wipe your hands of it. No problem, right?"

     "Gimme a break. Who's going to believe that kinda tripe?"

     X stood up slowly, setting down his now-empty glass. "I sure wouldn't. I'll guess I'll think of something while I get fixed up. All I ever wanted was for things to be peaceful again."

     "Yeah," Blade agreed, "I think that's all most of us ever wanted. And now that we've got it, lookee how happy we all are, eh?"

     "I guess it's a good thing that all we gotta do tonight is look serious," Terry decided. "Bad enough they're having us put on our combat uniforms again. I don't think I could manage a happy face right now."

*********************

     R&D was a busy scene as X entered it, but there was hardly anything surprising about that. Even on slow days during the war, there were almost always hunters being repaired or suited up for the next round of combat. Actually, there never had been many slow days, X reflected. The maverick attacks had been more or less constant, around the clock. One of the key reasons for their present victory had simply been that the mavericks had lacked any facilities with which to repair themselves...

     Without a doubt, half the war had been won through the R&D section. As for what the initials actually stood for, a more realistic moniker would probably have been 'Repair and Damage-control'. There hadn't been a lot of chance for very much research or development to happen. And with the Maverick Hunters being disbanded soon, there might never be.

     The large majority of the R&D staff were presently unloading some of the transports near the launching pads. Most of the crates being moved could be identified as holding weaponry, used to replenish the hunters' supplies while in the war-zone. With the war over, the transports were probably going to be used to move the heavy equipment the researchers would need to properly inspect the ruins of Sigma's base. That said, there was a lot to be moved before the transports could start serving their new purpose.

     Now to find someone who would know where his armour was... a quiet thumping noise brought his attention to a convenient source of information. If rather unusual.

     "Hey Sparky," X greeted, even as the camera lens swivelled to focus on him.

     'Sparky' was the mascot of the R&D department. It was also convincing proof that the chief of the R&D division was slightly insane. It all depended on how you viewed the act of combining an all-terrain crawl-bot, a low-level AI system, and an antique arc-welder. To say nothing of said chief's adamant insistence that Sparky was male.

     "Is anybody on repair duty right now?" X asked the device.

     Sparky beeped affirmative, swivelling to face one of the self-contained bays. It looked like Jennifer was on repair duty at the moment.

     "Thanks. Don't let me interrupt you. Bye."

     Having received a dismissal command, Sparky continued trekking towards the lounge, apparently carrying out his chief service to the R&D lab. After hearing a few complaints on how the device was a waste of time and materials, the R&D chief had effected a few more modifications to remedy the problem. As a result, Sparky was now capable of fetching up to three drinks at a time from the lounge and bringing them back to the sender, all without a spill. After that development, Sparky was welcomed with open arms. Although some hunters were quick to demand that a version by developed for use on the field as well.

     Pushing open the door, X's guess was soon proven correct, Jennifer typing away rapidly on a computer terminal. One of the relative newcomers to the R&D staff, X had gotten to know her by virtue of happening to get damaged two days in a row, both while she was on duty. While that wasn't much to work with, the knowledge that you were both fighting in the same war was something that could serve as a wonderful icebreaker. When someone trusted you to defend them, while you trusted them to repair you afterwards, you tended to learn a few things about them whether you wanted to or not. What he could safely say about Jennifer after five months was that she was possibly the most honest reploid X had ever met. Not in a blunt or uncaring way, as she was as apt to compliment as she was reprimand, but X had learned better than to downplay anything she said. "Hi Jenny."

     Upon hearing his voice, Jennifer spun in her seat to face him, already wearing a cheerful smile. "Hi there, X. Long time no see."

     "It's only been a few days..."

     "Ha ha." She absent-mindedly ran a hand through her blond hair. "Well, down here we measure time in hours, you know. Sorry I couldn't make the celebration, but Dr. P. wants everything ready to go before we break for the award ceremony. She's such a slave driver sometimes."

     "I saw Sparky heading towards the lounge," X noted, unable to resist. "I thought you'd quit drinking while on the job."

     She turned slightly red. "One little accident... besides, I didn't send him on any errands. He must be fetching for someone else right now. So why aren't you at the celebration?"

     "I just came from there. I've got to be in uniform for tonight." He shrugged. "And I don't really feel like celebrating right now, anyway."

     Jennifer nodded understandingly. "Dr. P. told me that you were feeling pretty down... over Zero?"

     Apparently it was written across his face. "Is it that obvious?"

     "Not really. But I know that you practically worshipped the ground he walked on. And I heard that you were wearing his arm cannon when you came back."

     X nodded, sitting down on one of the lab stools wearily. "I don't know how people can call me a hero and just ignore everything that he did."

     "Dr. P. says that you make a way better hero than him."

     "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "Well..." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "For starters, you're one of the most likable people around, which is rare for a hunter. You're kind, thoughtful, easy to get along with. You've got determination, you're brave in a fight, and you're a source of inspiration and courage to the other hunters."

     X flushed red. "Um... I don't mean to be rude, but... what's your point?"

     Jennifer raised an eyebrow impatiently. "X, maybe you were just blinded by a case of hero-worship, but Zero was absolutely nothing like that. He was a incredibly good hunter, I won't argue with that. The only number on his field record that isn't big is the time he spent in repair. But he was also the most arrogant, self-confident individual I've ever seen. His idea of teamwork was to do the job himself and let his teammates do the clean-up. Half the time, he wouldn't even trust us to repair him, he'd just do it himself. Whenever a reporter tried to interview him, all he'd tell them was that he was a hunter, not an actor. In short, to quote Dr. P., he was a complete jerk."

     "That's cruel, Jenny. He's not even here to defend himself. And you know Phoebe doesn't doesn't even like Zero in the first place."

     "What makes you think that he'd find anything wrong with being that way? To be sure, he's probably exactly what we needed back then. But it doesn't make him very well suited for being a hero. More of an anti-hero, really. And that's just not the stuff that good P.R. is made of. You, on the other hand..."

     X sighed, slumping down in his chair. As usual, he couldn't actually find anything wrong with what she'd just said. Jennifer could be frustrating that way. "He wasn't that bad. And I still say that he did way more than I ever did."

     "You're too modest for your own good. I heard through the grapevine that Zero actually complimented you once or twice. And getting compliments out of him was harder than squeezing water from a rock."

     "Well, I guess so. But even still-"

     Jennifer shushed him with a brief gesture. "Besides, who ever said that you got any say over whether you were a hero or not?"

     X couldn't help but smile at her tone of voice. "You realize that you're no help at all?"

     She grinned. "Yup."

     "So why don't you help me out with making my armour look shiny again? It was barely in one piece a couple hours ago and I have to wear it tonight, you know."

     "Way ahead of you, X. Command sent the request down a few hours ago. It wouldn't do to have our hero looking less than perfect for the news cameras, hmm?  Besides, Dr. P. was looking for a good punishment for two new assistants who showed up late for work today."

     "That's why I'd never want her as a boss."

     "Actually, that's just the official reason. I think her decision had more to do with the fact that they were calling Sparky a pile of junk yesterday."

     X nodded understandingly. "Where is Phoebe, anyway? Terry told me that she's rooting around in what's left of Sigma's fortress?"

     Jennifer shrugged helplessly. "Something about preliminary investigations. Looking for parts to make Sparky a mate, for all I know. One of the things we'll be doing tomorrow is trying to recover what's left of any mavericks. She wants to study them or something. That's all she would tell us. That, and to bring her out some cookies if she's not back by eighteen hundred hours."

*********************

     "Phooey. Shoulda told 'em to bring the cookies at sixteen hundred hours..."

     The complaint was emanating from somewhere within a huge field of rubble and destruction. Steel girders thick enough to have come from a battleship frame, concrete blocks that must have tipped the scales at several tons, and half-foot thick slabs of titanium plate all lay in twisted and maimed positions that suggested that the hand of a god had deigned to decorate.  Although an exploding main reactor core might have been up to the task as well.

     Amidst the mechanical carnage, a comparatively small object slowly moved through the mess. Humanoid in appearance, although wearing enough equipment to throw the classification into jeopardy, it was presently engaged in pointing the equipment in almost every direction except straight up. As a stream of stray plasma arced between two chunks of steel, the ensuing light managed to illuminate some semblance of its appearance.

     The baggy brown pants and green tank-top worn both looked rather scuffed and dirty, as though the individual had been crawling through the wreckage for quite some time now. Lots of red hair, although it only just brushed the shoulders. And not the orange-red hues that were most common. Closer to the red that went into crayons (antique wax-colouring sticks still popular among some children today). Taking into account the facial lines, the height and the slightly curved body form, it was a young girl of perhaps eleven or twelve.

     Then one of the scanners on the girl's left arm began to beep insistently. Raising an eyebrow, she trained several other obscure pieces of equipment on the location, quickly gaining several variations on the beeping. The area of concern appeared to be only a few feet in front of her. It also appeared to be about twenty feet below the surface of steel and rubble.

     Undeterred, the girl promptly began to start pushing aside the rubble with her bare hands, one piece at a time, then beginning to work on the next offending piece of wreckage. Twenty minutes of work and twenty tons of material later, she found herself at the bottom of a sizeable pit. And at the bottom of that pit...

     "Jackpot!!!" she yelled triumphantly.

*********************

     "-and it is with the events of the past year in mind that we are gathered here today. To reflect upon those who fought for justice, both those here in body and spirit. And though we will mourn each and every death, we will likewise always be thankful for the sacrifices they ultimately made."

     Pausing to take a sip from a glass of water, Admiral Jacob Petrevia briefly let his eyes wander across his audience. The assembly was only composed of several hundred individuals, some human, some reploid. But there were at least another hundred people around the outskirts of the crowd who were equipped with a melee of high-powered audio-video equipment. Judging from the assortment of channel numbers emblazoned across the equipment, this ceremony was probably making its way to virtually every location on earth. Actually, having been the one to review and approve each request, he knew that to be true.

     Inclining his head, he gestured towards another set of individuals,  this group presently standing up on stage behind him. Standing at attention, they were representative of the group known internationally as 'Maverick Hunter HQ'. The composition of the group was about one-third commanding officers, one-third Hunters, and one-third R&D staff. Considering the circumstances under which the entire group had been formed, an elaborate hierarchy had been an extremely low priority at the time. During the war duties had been quite simple, you either organized, fought or fixed. Sometimes more than one at the same time.

     He coughed, clearing his throat again. "These individuals here are representative of those who fought against the maverick Sigma and his followers. And the only time that they ever stood down from their duties was due to sleep or incapacitation. And for many of them, those were extremely rare occurrences. I truly wish that there was some way that I could convey what so many of these people willingly endured through over the course of the past year. For now, I  have asked several of these individuals to give their own viewpoints. The first individual that will speak is the hunter who had the distinction of striking the winning blow for the war, an individual that you may well recognize, an individual by the name of X."

     A deafening round of applause ensued as X came forward, the expression on his face clearly suggesting that he would rather be somewhere else. Preferably, somewhere without an audience. He hadn't been that enthusiastic when asked to make a speech, but they hadn't informed him that the entire planet was going to be his audience...

     He hated public attention and he hated public speaking. And right now, he was getting an overdose of both. It didn't make a whole lot of sense. He'd just fought through Sigma's entire fortress, and come out on top. And this crowd wasn't even angry with him. Zero probably would have told him to get over it and just do it. Maybe Zero should have been making this speech...

     Actually, X thought he knew exactly what Zero would have been saying about now. And it wouldn't have been very media-friendly. In a really morbid sort of way, it was probably a good thing that he wasn't here to make a speech. So in the place of Zero, he would simply have to do the best job that he could.

     X opened his mouth to begin.

     *Dr. P to X.*

     His eyes opened wide, his mouth shutting again. Apparently his communicator was still in open-air mode. Hesitantly, he tapped the receive button. "Uh... X here."

     *Good. You busy right now?*

     X glanced at the several hundred people in front of him, who were probably hearing the entire conversation loud and clear, courtesy of the microphone in front of him. "Um... why? Is something wrong?"

     *I just finished fixing up a hunter here, and he doesn't believe me when I'm telling him that the war was won while he was out of commission. He's awfully pissed off that I won't suit him up for combat again, y'know. But I think that if you explained it to him, he'd feel a lot better.*

     X gave a quick glance up the ranks of the hunters. He didn't think anyone was missing, but it was rather hard to keep track of who had been destroyed on the battlefield... "I'll be right down."

     *Great. Oi, this hunter is such a-*

     X quickly turned his communicator off before any more choice comments could be offered to transmitted across the auditorium's sound system for the entire world to hear, and tried to decide to what he should say in lieu of the speech he had planned. "I... sorry about this. I've got to go."

     A chorus of muffled conversations began to circulate through the audience, many of them sounding rather displeased by the announcement. All this was not lost on Admiral Petrevia, who quicky moved to intercept the exiting hunter at the podium.

     "X," he muttered in a low voice, "you can't just take off like this! The crowd is waiting on you!"

     If the admiral was trying to keep his voice from being picked up by the microphone, X wasn't even making the effort. "Can't I make a speech later on? That hunter-"

     "I think that hunter can wait until the ceremony is done! Now go make your speech!"

     "But-"

     The lines around the Admiral's face tightened. "Consider it an order, if you must."

     "You want me to give a speech?" X's face hardened, as he shouldered his way past the man. "I'll give you a speech."

     The admiral's eyes opened. "Now just one minute-"

     X was already turning, taking in the audience in one sweeping glance. "I got up here to make a speech because I was asked to talk about this war. So let me tell you what I really think of all this! I didn't fight in this war because I thought it was something noble to do! I don't think any of us hunters did, I don't think any of the R&D staff did. But I can understand why a lot of you wouldn't understand that. You weren't out on the field, trying to defend yourself from insane reploids! You weren't facing down entire hordes of mavericks, half-wondering whether you were suddenly going to see your neighbour in the group, then remembering that they'd already gone maverick a few weeks ago!!!

     X gestured towards the other hunters and R&D staff standing to the side. "Everyone up here did. And so did a lot of people who aren't here anymore. The hunters kept fighting anyway, no matter what they went up against. Our R&D staff worked around the clock, fixing us up so that we could go back and keep fighting again! They could have just ran and hid like everyone else did. But they wanted to see an end to it all. So they kept going, always hoping for this day, when the fighting would finally be over. And now it is.

     "And that's why we're not happy and overjoyed about what's happened. We're just relieved. Relieved that things are peaceful again; that the fighting is finally over. So why is so hard to believe that a hunter wants to know whether the war is really over with? I think everyone up here understands perfectly."

     With that, X left the stage, once again shouldering his way past a rather stunned admiral on his way towards the exit. To say that the ensuing silence was painful might have been understating the manner. Some of the on-stage individuals were whispering quietly to themselves, apparently not quite sure how to react to X's "speech".

     One individual finally took action, crossing the brief distance between where he was standing on stage and the podium. The face was familiar enough to anyone in the military, and quite a few people outside as well. General Jonathan Smith. The man whispered a few brief words to the Admiral. Whatever they were, the Admiral nodded briefly, taking a step to the side.

     "I think I was next in line for making a speech," the general offered, giving a small smile as he surveyed the audience. "I'd like to put my vote behind what X just said. Because he's absolutely right. I'm proud of what I did this past year. Not entirely happy, but definitely proud. I wish that there could have been a more peaceful way to solve the problem, but I honestly don't believe that there was. I fought this war because I believed that both humanity and reploids needed to be protected, and that was something that I was willing to give my life for. And on behalf of all those who did give their life over the course of this past year, let me vouch that they felt that way too.

     "It's been almost an entire century since there was an honest-to-goodness war in this world. That being said, I wasn't exactly around to see the downfall of Dr. Albert Wily and his forces. But I imagine that there were a lot of parallels between that war and the one we just finished. I think everyone learned something after the last one, and we've had a century of relative peace as a result. And I think that the best way of honouring the sacrifices made would be to break that record by a long shot in the years to come."

*********************

     R&D was completely silent as X crossed the department, aiming for a particular room on the other side. Tapping the doorbell twice, he waited for an acknowledgement. He'd have been lying if he'd tried to claim that he wasn't the least bit curious about who the hunter was that had just been repaired. He'd been under the impression that all the reploid hunters were fixed by now...

     "Oi, about time you got down here," a familiar voice greeted over the speaker, even as the door slid sideways to permit him entrance.

     X entered, quickly coming face to face with Maverick Hunter HQ's dirty little secret. The secret being that, for the past year, humanity's foremost defence against the threat of renegade reploids, had an R&D section led entirely by a reploid. And this reploid also seemed to find nothing strange about bothering to wear human clothing over the more standard issue body panel covering that were universally used by reploids. Actually, it wasn't uncommon for some people to mistake her for a human at first and second glance. X had a hunch that, for whatever reason, she thoroughly enjoyed letting them think that.

     "You stop to have some tea or something?" Phoebe demanded, giving him an evil glare. While the EM scanner in her hand wasn't officially classified as a weapon, the way she was waving it around was giving X second thoughts. "Well?"

     "I was in front of a microphone when you paged me!" he protested. "Do you have any idea how many people probably heard you cursing? How many countries?"

     "Oi, screw 'em. I got more important things to worry about than P.R. stuff, y'know. What's your excuse?"

     "They wouldn't let me leave until I made a speech!" X answered in his own defence. "I got here as fast as I could! So what about the hunter you mentioned?"

     "Oh, yeah, him," she muttered, dragging him towards one of the partitioned areas of her lab. "Stupid sonuvabitch practically tried to force me to re-suit him up. And right after he practically went to the big scrap-heap in the sky. He absolutely  refuses to believe me when I tell him that the war is over. Says I'm just full of it, the arrogant little-"

     The door slid open to allow the two access, Phoebe entered first.

     "You had better have  found some decent parts, you lunatic!" a voice growled from behind the partition. "Because otherwise I'm going to introduce you head-first to a trash compactor!"

     X twitched. The voice...

     "Oi, shut your mouth before I decide to power your CPU with a taser!" Phoebe snapped disgustedly. "You wanted proof that the war is over, I got you proof! X, you tell him."

     X gaped.

     "Well?" Phoebe gave him a shove from behind. "Something wrong with your vocal circuits?"

     "Is the war over or not?" Zero demanded.

     "Z-Zero!?!" X stammered, internally trying to decide if his visual systems were running properly. "You're... alive?"

     "Oh yeah," Phoebe suddenly recalled, "the Big Red Retard doesn't realize that everybody thinks he's destroyed."

     "WHAT!?!" Zero was glaring at Phoebe now. "I've been sitting here, forced to listen to the delusional ranting of a lunatic for six straight hours and you're telling me that I'm still listed KIA!?!"

     "Call me that again and I'll make your new clothing PINK!!!"

     "Surprised this base has any of that colour left after the last time you dyed your hair!"

     "Zero?" X was still gaping. Reploids didn't have ghosts, he knew. At least, he was pretty sure about that. The popular notion that reploids weren't capable of fainting was about to proven wrong, he thought. "How... are you... alive?"

     Upon hearing the question, Zero broke his staring match with Phoebe. "I wasn't dead, X."

     "But you... self-destructed to... stop Vile..."

     Phoebe elbowed him in the side. "Zero is a type-1A reploid, X. He doesn't have a self-destruct function. No type 1 reploid does."

     Even as his thought processes continued their recursive attempts at validating what he was seeing in front of him, a small part of X offered a more tactical analysis of Zero's present state. Half of him was actually missing, the rest almost completely transparent by virtue of a massive lack of skin and armour. The skeleton of his right arm was noticeably thin, clearly not his original arm. His left arm was blackened and burnt, as though a massive amount of power had been arced down its entire length. Zero had always been a left-handed shooter. The bottom halves of his left legs had both been completely torn off, while the upper portions was mangled and riddled with plasma burns. His chest armour was all but absent, the cross-sections that would have supported it were twisted like pretzels, some actually bent through his internals.

     Actually, X finally noted, Zero looked just he'd looked back in Sigma's fortress. After Vile and his Goliath-mech had given him a severe work-over. With the addition of a lot of scratch and impact marks, which were probably due to having the entire fortress collapse on him afterwards.

     "You're... not dead?" he managed to conclude.

     "As far as I can tell at the moment," Phoebe supplied, "what he did was induce a massive power spike in his system, then force it all out through his arm cannon in one shot. Anyway, it basically gutted his entire primary and secondary network of relays, and his power supply did an auto-emergency shutdown. And that was after he took all that damage from Vile. It's a miracle that his core matrix survived the whole thing without being damaged. It was within 4% of threshold minimum voltage when I dug him out. That's pretty darn close to being dead, when you think about it. But the rebuilding I've done so far is just with generic non-combat grade parts."

     "You're not dead," X summarized, sounding more convinced this time.

     Zero frowned. "No, I'm not dead, X. Lighten up, will you? So is the war over or not? Is Sigma history now, or are you just taking a break?"

     X finally managed a small smile as he recalled the speech he had just finished giving a short time ago. If there was any one who it applying to, it would be Zero. "I got Sigma. His entire fortress was destroyed."

     The other hunter mirrored the smile, appearing to relax somewhat. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you. So am I going to get my arm cannon back or not?"

     "It's practically destroyed," Phoebe informed him. "I don't know how much power X was pushing through it near the end, but the entire thing is about to fall apart into dust. I'm not even going to try and rebuild it."

     "It was a pretty close fight," X offered sheepishly. "I... did what I had to do, I guess."

     Zero rolled his eyes. "X, if it was that simple, the war would have been over a year ago. And as your unit commander, as soon as Dr. Loony finishes fixing me up, I'm dragging you in front of national television and wrapping a fricking huge medal around your neck. And I'm going to make damn sure the world knows that you earned that medal."

     X swallowed, once again reminded that Zero had never made an idle threat in his entire life (There were some interesting stories to back that up).

     "Oi, quit bugging him," Phoebe chided disgustedly. "X doesn't like audiences, so don't scare him like that."

     Zero smirked. "You think I don't know that? It'll be good for him..."

     Phoebe coughed loudly, making as though to turn on the wall-mounted communicator. "What's that, Admiral Petrevia? You want Zero to make a speech? Right now? And you want me to skip his repairs and enlist him in the diplomatic corps immediately?"

     "Don't even think about it," the hunter growled.

     "Sure, *Admiral*," Phoebe continued, hand still hovering dangerously close to the wall communicator. "I'd be delighted to convert Zero into a female reploid! Do you think a 36C sounds about right?"

     Zero actually paled a little. Phoebe wasn't known for idle threats either (There were some interesting stories to back that up, too). "X, I order you to rescue your unit commander and make this world a better place at the same time. You will do this by ripping Dr. Loony's head off. Quickly."

     "X, you don't have to listen to that reploid there. After all, we both know Zero's KIA, right? So why don't you just head on back to the meeting? Come back in an hour or so, and I'll have the Big Red Retard walking again, okay? And if he keeps his big mouth shut, you'll even recognize him!"

     Given a choice between going upstairs to a room with hundreds of reporters or staying in the same room as the individual who he was finally beginning to accept as still alive...

     Leaving the room wasn't high on X's list of priorities at the moment. "Ah, I'll just wait here, that's okay, really!"

     "Oi, I don't need you in the way," Phoebe informed him. "I've got a lot of work to do. Go get lost, alright?"

     "I won't get in the way," X promised. "Please?"

     "X," Zero began, "as your unit commander, I order you to get upstairs and handle all the diplomatic garbage that I don't feel like having to deal with. Understood?"

     X's face fell as he headed for the door. "Ah... right. Yes sir."

     Zero smiled at X's expression. "Hey, give me a break, alright? I'm on sick leave. But I want you to give me a full mission report after the ceremony, in person, am I understood?"

     X's lit up, offering a more spirited salute this time. "Understood!!!"

*********************

     The funeral itself had been a rather eerie experience, X thought, even as the attendees slowly began to trickle out of the courtyard.

     Dr. Cain had once taken him to one, but X hadn't actually known the individual being buried. For him, it had merely been a learning experience, not a time for mourning. This funeral was considerably different in that respect. One part of him was genuinely saddened by the sight of so many gravestones laid out, each one covering the resting place of someone who had died in the war against Sigma. The vast majority of them had been hunters, but X doubted that there were any sections that hadn't experienced loss first-hand at some point over the past year.

     Yet at the same time, another part of him was fairly exploding with joy. Zero wasn't dead. Zero had survived. Zero was being repaired. Zero was alive. When all was said and done, it all amounted to something that X somehow found hard to accept at face value. He'd seen Zero in the stasis pod, all but reduced to scrap metal at the hands of Vile's massive mech. And he'd seen Zero overpower the stasis pod's restraints, his entire frame smoldering with every ounce of power he'd been able to summon in his condition. He'd seen the resulting explosion toss Zero across the room like a rag doll, Vile barely surviving by virtue of the mech he was riding in.

     X could also vaguely remember what he'd done to Vile afterwards. The fight had been short, fast, and brutal, and utterly devoid of anything resembling mercy. By the time X had given his blaster a chance to cool, there hadn't been much that could be recognized as Vile, but a lot of debris littering the corners of the room in his place. And Zero had been there, sprawled on the ground, somehow maintaining consciousness, but unable to even move.

     He'd cried then, X recalled dimly. For what had perhaps been the first time in his entire two and a half years of living, he had genuinely cried. It had only been several minutes after Zero's body had gone limp that X had finally been able to refocus enough to continue onwards.

     Look around at all the individuals gathered alongside him, glancing from face to face, X had a hunch that a lot of them were experiencing many of the same feelings now, many for the first time as well. As for himself... he'd already mourned. And no matter how genuine his grief had been before...

     "Share an umbrella?" a voice inquired beside him.

     Glancing sideways, X was met with the visage of Jennifer, giving him a sad smile. There was a notably absence of grief on her face, but X knew that she hadn't been around as long as most of the R&D staff. Most of the R&D casualties had occurred near the beginning of the war, often as a result of reploid workers going maverick. But maybe it was easier for Jennifer that way.

     ...perhaps he was already beginning to move on again with his own life, X decided. There were a lot of friends and fellow hunters that he'd lost over the last year, but the knowledge that at least one of them had returned was enough make the pain bearable.

     Remembering the question, he finally returned Jennifer's smile, waving aside the gesture. "Thanks Jenny, but I'd rather just get wet right now."

     She raised an eyebrow, trying to decide if she'd just been insulted or not.

     "I like feeling the rain," X elaborated sheepishly. "I could never feel the rain like this when I was wearing my helmet in battle. I guess it just makes it feel more like the fighting is finally done with."

     "I never thought of it that way before." Jennifer looked thoughtful for a moment, then folded her own umbrella and let it fall to her side.

     The two continued along in silence for several moments, inevitably getting wetter and wetter as time passed by.

     "That was really nice, X," Jennifer commented.

     The reploid raised an eyebrow. "What was?"

     "Your speech before, at the awards ceremony."

     Which was X's cue to flush red. "I... I kind of lost my temper there."

     "You didn't loose your temper. You just decided to throw your planned speech out the window and say what you really felt. I don't think there was a single person who wasn't moved by what you said before."

     "I didn't really mean to blow up like that. It's just... when the admiral told me to ignore that hunter... even before I knew it was Zero... I was just..."

     "Angry," Jennifer finished for him. "Why?"

     "Why wouldn't I be? Those people cared more about having their stupid 'hero' up making a speech, then they did about one of the hunters who helped save them in the first place!"

     "I envy you, X. That you could actually get angry over something like that."

     A confused look. "You couldn't?"

     Jennifer shook her head regretfully. "After the fact, I can understand why you did it. But at the time, all I could think was 'X is disobeying his superior officer'. I think that almost all of the R&D and Hunters were thinking that at first. That's why we all consider you a hero."

     "I'm no one special. I just happened to be the one who actually destroyed Sigma, that's all. Luck of the draw. Nothing more."

     "Do you really think so? That you're nothing special?"

     X's reply was cut off by another individual. "Need some help operating that umbrella, you two?"

     They both turned to see a grinning officer. Even out of uniform, the sharp-trimmed mustache and the spiked-back blond hair were dead giveaways.

     "General Smith!" X greeted, snapping a quick salute by reflex. After a few moments, Jennifer hastily mirrored the action.

     "Oh posh, Jonathan's just fine," the man insisted, turning his umbrella slightly into the direction of the rain. "We're all off-duty, right? So like I said, did your umbrella break?"

     "Oh no," Jennifer assured him. "X was just telling me how he likes feeling the rain, now that he doesn't have to wear his combat armour."

     "I understand completely," Jonathan agreed. "Heading back to HQ now?"

     X nodded, already knowing exactly where he was going to be headed. Phoebe should have Zero in much better working order by now...

     "Why don't you run on ahead to the base?" Jonathan suggested. "If Jennifer could put up with my company for a few minutes, I just wanted to talk with her about something."

     X glanced over to Jennifer inquiringly. "Catch up with you later, Jenny?"

     She nodded. "If you go by R&D, tell Dr. P. that she can contact me if she needs me for anything."

     The hunter nodded, continuing on his way towards the base, now whistling a quiet tune to himself. The other two watched him until he rounded a bend and disappeared from sight.

     Jennifer turned and offered Jonathan an inquiring look. While he was technically one of her superior officers, he had rarely ventured near R&D, usually working in Tactical Command or on the front line. But she knew that he was good friends with X, as well as most of the hunters.

     He merely smiled at her, saying nothing.

     "Um..." she began, not quite certain how to phrase her question. "Did... you want to... talk to me about something?"

     He chuckled, but still didn't say anything.

     Which didn't do much for Jennifer's mental state.

     "You're soaking wet," he finally observed. "You're getting completely drenched in this rain and you don't have the slightest clue why, do you?"

     After a few moments of reflection... "Ah... not really, no."

     "Then why don't you let your umbrella do its job?"

     With a twist, Jennifer turned the umbrella upright and pushed it up until the umbrella broke, scattering a handful of frame rods all over the ground. She groaned, beginning to pick the pieces off the ground. "Oh great..."

     Jonathan laughed again, but shifted so that his umbrella was now sheltering her as well. "Don't worry about it. Unless you've got your own stitching kit, I think your umbrella has gone to the big coat-rack in the sky. So just leave it be, and for goodness sake, calm down a little. I'm not trying to freak you out, you know."

     He had a funny of showing it, Jennifer reflected, giving her umbrella up for lost. "So..."

     "So..." he agreed, "...are you curious to know why X can walk in the rain and see the end to all the fighting, while all you see is a bunch of soggy clothing?"

     "I guess so. I imagine... that it's because he's X, and I'm me."

     "For shame. You make the second part sound like an insult. So who exactly is Jennifer?"

     She looked confused. "Jennifer... is me."

     "Don't get trapped in circular logic. What's behind the name 'Jennifer'? What makes 'Jennifer' unique? If I didn't know who 'Jennifer' was, how would I find her?"

     She frowned. "I... work in R&D..."

     "There must be more to it then that."

     "Not really."

     "I see you in the lounge."

     "If I'm off-shift."

     "I've seen you at the library."

     "Technical research."

     He finally threw up his hands. "Good grief, girl. Don't you do anything that doesn't revolve around your job?"

     She mentally cringed. "Well... not really."

     "That's ridiculous. How old are you, anyway?"

     "Twenty-two."

     "You were designed to look twenty-two. But how long have you actually been alive?"

     "Four months, twenty-four days-"

     "Almost five months," he interrupted quickly. "Now tell me, how long has X been alive?"

     "He was first activated by Dr. Cain... about two and a half years ago."

     "And that's the difference between the two of you."

     "I... don't quite understand. I know that X is two years older than I am, but-"

     "At your ages, everything is about experience. It's not so much that X has lived two years longer than you have, it's that he's lived... six times longer."

     "I still don't understand what you're getting at."

     "You've only had about half a year to develop yourself, to define yourself. And you've spent most of that as an R&D tech. That in itself is an experience, but you haven't really had a chance to expand on it. Whereas X has been living for two and a half years now, and he's done quite a bit. He was originally in the care of Dr. Cain, who was always encouraging him to ask as many questions as possible, and to try as many different things as possible. Then he actually became the doctor's lab assistant, learning a great deal more in the process. Then he joined the hunters, and has been doing that until now. In short, he's a more three-dimensional individual than you are."

     "You mean..." She wasn't entirely sure how to interpret that statement.

     "Let me try to explain another way. Take... an umbrella. What comes to mind when you think of one?"

     Jennifer sighed. "I don't know. It's used to stay dry in the rain... mine just broke..."

     "But before I just came along, you couldn't even have said the second one," Jonathan pointed out. "And now, you'll probably be more careful of how you open umbrellas, hmm? It's just another little nuance that helps define who you are. 'Jennifer who works in R&D', has become someone who's careful not to break the umbrella she's holding."

     "That sounds... strange."

     "It does, doesn't it? Curious about what comes to my mind when I think of an umbrella?"

     Against all sense, she nodded.

     "I think back to a time when I was only nineteen, actually. Me and some buddies were drinking, probably too much for our own good. At any rate, around that time, a trendy way of picking up a girl was to wait for a downpour, then offer to walk her home with your umbrella. Now and then, it even worked. At any rate, me and my buddies were stone-drunk, and it was starting to rain something fierce. Wind, water, thunder, this storm had it all. And lo and behold, two lovely ladies were walking by. And I declared that I was going to pick them both up at the same time. Unfortunately, the umbrella I had wasn't big enough to shelter three people. So what do you think I did?"

     This was getting stranger by the moment. "Grab two umbrellas?" she ventured cautiously.

     "Good answer! Unfortunately, I was completely drunk, so that never occurred to me. What I did was grab an old beach umbrella that was about four metres across. And I walked out and offered to escort them home. And then the wind picked up."

     Jennifer gaped. "But if your umbrella was four metres across..."

     He looked sheepish. "I do believe I covered a three entire city blocks before my feet touched the ground again. And of course, one of the ladies was quick enough to pull out her camera. And of course, she worked for the college newspaper."

     "You did that!?!"

     A grin. "Yep. Hard to believe, isn't it? It sure sobered me up, that's for sure. I could tell you tales like for weeks on end, trust me. But I've done lots of normal things too. But the bottom line is that I've been alive for thirty-eight years now. Thirty-eight years of experiences have combined to make me the person that I am today. Which is why even a simple umbrella can have so much behind it for me."

     "But I only have five months of experience?"

     "Right. You simply haven't had the chance to have as many defining experiences. But X, he's done a lot more. And this rain here, I'm willing to bet that it reminds him of days before he became a hunter. And that's why feeling the rain right now makes him happy."

     Jennifer sighed. "But I wasn't even around before the war started. So I don't have any memories of that time to remember."

     "Don't go getting depressed on me, Jennifer," Jonathan soothed. "The war's over now, so this is when you start making a few of those memories for yourself. You have to give it time, but you have to put a little effort into it. And you're going to have to try and break out of your 'R&D' mould. You're damn good at what you do and you've got every reason to be proud of yourself, but you should let more than just one thing define who you are. Take up a hobby or two, read some books, or watch some movies."

     "Such as?"

     "Anything you want. You're still young, right? You've got lots of time to try everything out, a few things at a time. You'll make some classic goof-ups, but that's all part of the process. Isn't that right, Milkshake Girl?"

     "Nobody's ever going to let me forget that!"

     "So don't let it get to you. If a guy like me can get to try and pick up girls with a beach umbrella, wind up floating across the south end of town, appear on the front page of the college newspaper, and still wind up becoming 'General Smith' nineteen years later... is a little strawberry milkshake in someone's hydraulic fluid reservoir really that big of a deal?"

     "Maybe not."

     "Exactly. And whatever else happens in the future, you've just been through half a year of war. That in itself will help give you a unique outlook on the rest of your life. Just like it already gives X his own unique outlook on rain right now."

     "I think it makes more sense now. Thanks."

     He offered a mock bow, pushing the handle of his umbrella into her hand. "Any time. One of my duties as commanding officer to see to the welfare of those under me, you understand. Now, why don't you get back to HQ before your boss gets too impatient? I'm actually headed over to the TacCom building right now."

     In what was beginning to feel like a repetitive motion, Jennifer looked bewildered. "But you can get there easier by going straight to HQ, then taking the underground passage..."

     "Why, so I could." He gave her a smile. "But I'd rather get a little wet, you understand?"

     She smiled back this time. "I think I do. But X won't get sick. Make sure you don't catch a cold or something."

     "Your concern touches my heart. But my delusions of youth assure me that a little rain couldn't possibly do me any harm."

     Jennifer watched him head off towards the TacCom building, taking a shortcut across an open field. Humans were confusing, she concluded. But she supposed that if she stayed around long enough, she'd eventually understand them. Maybe she should take General Smith's suggestion and try something new. Something that wasn't covered under her R&D job. While she didn't have a clue what that something was, she could deal with that issue soon enough. Maybe she could ask X. Hadn't the general specifically identified him as someone to take after? Maybe she could talk with Dr. P. as well. She was usually willing to offer advice when asked.

     The thought-process having been completed in a fraction of a second, Jennifer continued on towards the main compound. Maybe Dr. P. would have something for her to do...

     A glimpse of purple caught her attention enough to make her halt and take a better look. In front of the one of the gravestones, a figure was kneeling. She could clearly identify the dark-purple armour and black tied-back hair, the former identifying the figure as a hunter, the latter distinctive enough to identify the exact hunter.

     Weaving between the first two rows of tombstones, she stopped a short distance away from where the other individual was kneeling. "Blade?"

******************

     By the time X had reached the R&D section, Zero had been pronounced fit to leave for a while. He was still in need of proper repairs, but the hunter-come-back-to-life was more than a little fed up with being a patient. He'd been offering some decidedly un-constructive things for Phoebe to do with her tools when X had walked in.

     Being the considerate individual that she was, Phoebe had been willing to let him go for the time being. Actually Phoebe's exact words had been "Oi. Get the &$*% out of my #@%& lab you #*$% piece of $#!^", but X was pretty sure that she was just exaggerating. At least, he certainly hoped so.

     At any rate, Zero had been given his leave of the lab, and the two hunters were now engaging in a casual stroll down the hallways of the headquarters. Occasionally they would pass someone and be greeted with an incredulous stare as they recognized Zero, but no one actually seemed to want to contest his identity to his face. Which meant that the gossip mill was probably running rampant behind their backs at the moment.

     If this was occurring to Zero as well, he didn't seem to have any opinion on the matter. His body still occasionally gave out a quiet squeak or groan as the replacement parts struggled to obey the commands given to them. No fault to Phoebe's work, but Zero's body was still a far cry from completely fixed. Despite that, Zero didn't complain as X filled in what had happened over the past one and a half days.

     "It seems strange," X was observing. "Yesterday, I was in the middle of Sigma's fortress, fighting for my life. And now they've disbanded the hunters, given out awards, and had the funerals. I feel like I must have been off-line for a few days."

     Zero shrugged. "It's all public-relations garbage. They're just doing everything they can to assure people that the problem's over now."

     "It still seems... wrong."

     "Trust me. They didn't consult any of us on the issue. We're just supposed to be on our way now, thank-you very much."

     X nodded. "Blade said that he was going to be leaving in a day or two, to get back to his old job. He used to work for a transport service, I think."

     "Not many reploids here were even around before the war started."

     "What about you?"

     Zero shrugged. "Considering that production of my frame type was outlawed before the war got into full swing, I guess I probably was. Nobody ever bothered giving me any details about it."

     X had seen Zero's record before. Actually, he had the entire thing memorized. A symptom of hero-worship, Jennifer probably would have said. The entire issue of Zero's pre-hunter history was summed up by a "No Date of Manufacture. Severe Memory Degradation" comment. And after he'd been out on a few sorties, no one had really cared any more. Besides, when a large proportion of the reploid population had been created within the last eight months, an entire year's worth of memories was nothing to be scoffed at.

     "So what are you going to do now?" he inquired.

     Another shrug. "I'm in no hurry. I'll find something to do sooner or later. After Dr. Dysfunctional finishes fixing my body."

     "I still can't believe you get away with calling Phoebe that."

     "I just call it as I see it. And she knows better than to try anything with me."

     Rather true, X reflected. Any newcomers quickly learned that there were two individuals in Hunter HQ that you simply didn't annoy. One of them was Phoebe. The other was Zero. There was no official reason or punishment for doing so, but imagination tended to suffice. With Phoebe, there was always the chance that you might wake up and find yourself attached to Sparky, depending on what sort of mood she was in. And with Zero? Common sense dictated that you probably didn't want to make an enemy of a hunter with a penchant for single-handedly ripping through entire maverick squadrons.

     And as Jonathan so candidly put the matter, it was only natural that two people with such reputations would instinctively annoy the hell out of each other on a regular basis. X didn't even pretend to understand why such a thing was 'natural', but the man usually seemed to know what he was talking about. And Phoebe and Zero probably would fight over the time of day if they were given the opening.

     "You could do quite a bit," X observed, returning to his question. "I mean, if you can lead an entire squadron, you could probably do almost anything."

     "Not really," Zero replied. "If I can lead a squadron, it means that I could probably lead another squadron. That's it. And it doesn't mean I want to do that."

     "That doesn't make much sense. I mean, you practically led us to victory on the field! If you can do that, you could-"

     "X," Zero interrupted. "Has anybody ever told you that you have an inferiority complex?"

     That was worth a moment of silence. "Um... I don't think so."

     "You have an inferiority complex."

     Another moment of silence, this time it lasted a little longer.

     "You have an inferiority complex," Zero repeated firmly. "And the first step to getting rid of that is to get it into your head that I didn't do anything special. All I did was go out there and destroy mavericks. Just like any other hunter."

     "You weren't just like any other hunter. You... were incredible. If it hadn't been for you-"

     "Hey. I may have been damn good at it, but so were you."

     "All I did was-"

     "Walk into the battle zone with some shoddy excuse for hunter equipment that I wouldn't wish on a civilian. Trash a hell of a lot of renegade machinery. Waste eight ex-hunters single-handedly. Storm Sigma's fortress. Destroy that bastard Vile. And kick Sigma's ass. That's all you did, X."

     Zero tapped the side of his head. "You've got it up here, X. Any reploid with a couple days of practice can shoot the pins off a microchip at fifty metres. But you actually understand how to fight, just like me. With most hunters, they just try to react to whatever comes at them. You, by the time something's coming, you're already out of the way and hitting back. I saw you in battle a few times, and believe me, you know how to fight."

     "But I was never taught anything," X protested.

     "Do you think I was? I got the same half-assed training that you did. Do you think I used any special equipment? Aside from that over-driven arm-cannon, I didn't have anything special. Heck, I'm just an old-fashioned 1A-type reploid frame. You were built almost an entire century ago. We're not exactly cutting-edge technology, are we? But we both understand how to fight, and that's what makes all the difference."

     "That doesn't... make much sense."

     "I didn't say that it had to. All I know is that when I was out there on the field, everything made sense. No matter what happened, no matter what I went up against, I always understood what was happening. So I used that understanding to waste anything in range. Same thing with you, right? Can you truthfully tell me that you did everything through nothing but dumb luck?"

     X looked away. "I think I got lucky a few times."

     "Didn't think you could."

     "But it still doesn't make any sense. I never fought before this war! I was never given any special programs, any special training... and you're trying to tell me that I'm a good hunter?"

     "What the hell do you want to hear, X? I'm not going to argue with you. The numbers speak for themselves. So unless you can think of a better reason..."

     He couldn't, X had to admit. Numbers were numbers, and no amount of rationalization could dispute the fact that his record as a hunter was... impressive.

     "You have to wonder," Zero continued, voice fading to a somewhat more thoughtful tone. "All the newer reploids... all the high-tech stuff that they're supposed to have. Maybe a certain something just gets lost in the process..."

     X didn't have an answer to that. "Maybe."

     "Yeah, maybe," Zero agreed, abruptly changing direction. "Catch up with you later, alright? I got some stuff to do."

     X nodded, starting down another hallway. "Sure. I need to have R&D take a look at my arm, anyway. I think it's still a little misaligned. See you around."

******************

     Even before she had announced her presence, Blade seemed to register her presence, giving her a sideways glance as he stood up. "Jennifer."

     Jennifer didn't have to ask who's gravestone he was in front of. The words 'KATANA' were clearly engraved upon the front, with the birth-death dates just below in slightly smaller letters. In a slightly more elaborate script, the words 'Leader of the 12th Division of Maverick Hunters'.

     "He was younger than I was, y'know," Blade commented, gesturing off-handedly towards the stone. "He was built 'bout two weeks after Sigma went maverick. That was back when Kally led the 12th. Katana didn't seem anything special then. Kinda reckless, I guess. Always insisted on bringin' a beam sabre with him, no matter that he actually used the bloody thing once in a blue moon. That's where he got his handle in the first place, y'know."

      "You really miss him, don't you?" she asked.

     He nodded slowly. "He was... somethin' else, I guess. No matter what sorta shit we were in, he always seemed happy. Not giddy like Phoebe, but... satisfied. And fearless. I can't think of many hunters who were never afraid of bein' killed. We'd have been scrap one week ago if not for him. Me too, I guess. I reckon I know what hell's like now. I dunno where they stole 'em from, but they had a dozen siege tanks backing 'em up to boot."

     Jennifer had heard all the news, courtesy of the damaged hunter quota suddenly tripling. Even as the 17th had been attempting to penetrate Sigma's fortress, Sigma had been attempting to storm Hunter HQ. It had been the 12th division who had held off the kamikaze waves of mavericks and attack robots for so long. While the attack had lasted right up to the destruction of Sigma's fortress, the initial attack had almost completely decimated the HQ's defences from the
start...

     "Early on, Katana got in a few scrapes," Blade mused. "The guy somehow managed to stay alive through 'em and get a few clues. Always said that it was because of some of the other hunters that he'd had a chance to keep on living. And one week ago... I guess he figur'd it was time to repay the favour. We were getting slaughtered like a bunch of civies. The idiot just charged the forces, pulled out that stupid beam sabre, and started slashing up the siege tanks they had. Did it so quickly that they didn't even have a chance to fire at him before he'd reached 'em. Trashed over half of 'em before they finally re-aimed and slagged him with point-blank shots. We only found a few parts of him after."

     "I heard," Jennifer managed to offer, feeling more than a little inadequate. What did you say to someone in a situation like this? General Smith would have known, she thought. Someone like X would have too. "That... must have been a shock."

     "To put it mildly. I think we actually stopped shooting for a moment. I finally noticed the tanks tryin' to aim at us again, and started yelling for us to keep attacking. It got real messy after that, but we only lost a couple more hunters that day."

     Jennifer took a few steps forward, until she was standing next to him. "I think he'd be happy to know that."

     "Yeah, I think he woulda too."

     The two stood in silence for several moments, both staring at the gravestone as though expecting it to say something. As an afterthought, Jennifer shifted her umbrella so that it was covering Blade as well. The act was somewhat redundant, as the hunter had clearly been out in the rain for a considerable amount of time already.

     "Little late for that, ain't it?"

     She shrugged in reply. "It's a big umbrella."

     "Suit yourself. So what are you doing out here still?"

     That was a good question, actually. "I'm... not really sure."

     He raised an eyebrow. "You're not sure?"

     "No," she admitted. "Why are you out here?"

     Blade frowned, gesturing towards the stone. "It's called 'paying your respects'."

     "I know that."

     "So? You're going to tell me that you don't know anyone who got snuffed over the last year or so?"

     "I was only here for the past four months."

     "Anyone at all?"

     "The only time you hunters ever come down to R&D is for repairs. And Dr. P. usually has me handling the weapons. And not many R&D staff ever get killed or destroyed."

     "So what'd you do before you came here?"

     "I was activated about five months ago."

     He nodded slowly. "I guess that would help explain it."

     "Explain what?"

     "Find someone you really like. Who you respect. Who you admire. Who you'd trust with your life, no matter what. Hell, someone who trusts you with their life. Then have 'em get killed. You'll understand then."

     If Blade had trying to keep the irritation from his voice, he hadn't done a very good job. Somehow, Jennifer didn't think he'd even tried in the first place. "Oh. I see."

     "Prob'ly not," he opinioned.

     For some reason, that irritated her more than it should have. "Is there anybody I know in particular that you'd like to see dead or destroyed?" she inquired, doing an equally poor job of disguising her own irritation.

     "Didn't mean it that way. Jus' ignore me, okay? I'm not myself lately, that's all." His face softened somewhat as he resumed looking at the gravestone. "And I prob'ly didn't understand a week ago either."

     Jennifer nodded, dismissing the issue. "You were activated before the war started, weren't you? What did you do before?"

     Blade shrugged, accepting the topic change without any complaint. "Worked for a transport company specializing in fragile cargo, the kind of stuff you can't carry on normal shuttles. The shuttles are god-awful slow, so it helps to have a crew member who doesn't need sleep. That way you can travel around the clock. Makes the deliveries twice as fast."

     "Were you the only reploid in the crew?"

     "Yeah, but it was pretty easy to forget that most times. I mean, they all knew I had a habit of askin' silly questions sometimes, but they never really minded. We were all good buddies, and hung out with each other between delivery runs."

     "Do you wish you were still doing that?"

     "I wish I'd never left it in the first place. But... when reploids were goin' nuts left and right, I decided that I didn't feel like waiting around for someone to attack me and my buddies. So I signed up as a hunter. Didn't really expect to survive the whole thing, but I guess life's screwy that way."

     "So what are you going to do now?"

     "I already got a letter from the guys. They said that if I want, they'll hire me back again." Blade smirked. "Heh, Charlie says he's desperate for a poker player who's worse‘n he is."

     "Poker?"

     "Yeah, I've got the worst poker face in existence, according to the guys."

     "What's poker?"

     Blade gave her an incredulous stare. "You're tellin' me that after being here for five months, you don't have a clue what poker is?"

     "Um, should I?"

     "It's only the most popular card game in the lounge. What rock have you been living under all this time?"

     "Well, excuse me for not knowing!"

     "Wanna learn?"

     "What?"

     "If I don't find anything else to do tonight, I'm probably just going to go back to HQ and get stone drunk. So, do you wanna learn how to play poker?"

     Jennifer blinked in response. She couldn't honestly say that she'd ever had a burning desire to learn a card game. Actually, she couldn't honestly say that she'd ever had a burning desire to learn anything in particular. But maybe this was what General Smith had meant by trying new things... "I'd like that," she replied.

     "Then let's get inside," Blade agreed, starting towards the courtyard exit. He gave the gravestone a salute. "Katana'd say that I was a bloody moron for standin' out here in the rain, I imagine. He'd prob'ly be right."

     Jennifer nodded, falling into step alongside him. Right now, she was just 'Jennifer who works in R&D'. But perhaps, before this day was done, she could also become 'Jennifer who knows how to play poker'. Maybe it wasn't much...

     ...but it was definitely a start.

******************

     X caught Phoebe just as she was leaving her lab. "Hey, Phoebe?"

     Her hand paused, an inch above the door's LOCK button. Turning, her face quickly lit up wit a smile. "Hi, X! Anything I can help you with?"

     "I was just wondering who's on repair duty right now."

     "Nobody at all, 'cause all the listed repair work was completed half an hour ago. Is there something else wrong?"

     "A few connections in my left arm feel loose, that's all. But it can wait until tomorrow."

     Phoebe dragged X into her lab and deposited him in a convenient chair. "Oi, don't be silly. Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today. I'll take a look at it right now. Just let me find my de-coupler..."

     X watched the R&D chief rummage through the field of clutter and disarray that she called her office. Officially, sections of the repair bay weren't supposed to actually be reserved or sealed off. In reality, Phoebe had decided that she needed her own personal working space, and had made the arrangements before anyone had been able to stop her. By the time she had finished, the room had been made watertight, airtight, radiation shielded, and pretty much bomb-proof. It also had an independent computer system and power source. And it would have been far too much trouble to dismantle again.

     Her official reasoning for it was for safety reasons, to ensure that the entire base wasn't affected if anything went wrong. And in the event that a reploid required extensive and specialized repairs, it was a source of privacy. Her real reasoning was probably based on the fact that she sometimes had a tendency to "forget" about certain regulations when they became inconvenient for her.

     "Hold still," Phoebe ordered, beside him once again, the aforementioned de-coupler in one hand. Hunter armour used an age-old thermally-strengthened bonding technique that actually got stronger when heated, which helped prevent explosions or energy blasts from knocking it off. X's body design actually saw his skin attached that way as well. That said, removing the attached portion was done by cryogenically-freezing strategic locations-

     Several deft stabs with the tip of the de-coupler later, Phoebe was holding the skin portion of his left arm, the complex array of systems making up his arm now visible. She noticed the incredulous look that X was giving her. "What's the matter?"

     "The other R&D's take at least five minutes to do that!"

     She smirked, sticking her tongue out at him. "So how'd you think I became head of this department?"

     X nodded dumbly. Whatever else might be called into question about her, Phoebe's skill had never been up for debate.

     "Besides," Phoebe added. "It's easy with Class 1 style reploid frames. The newer ones use those annoying ceramic compounds; even I have to be a little more careful with them. But it's practically impossible to screw up with neosteel fibre skin like yours. I wish all the hunters were as easy to fix as you were."

     "Always happy to help," X quipped.

     "And I wish all the hunters needed to be fixed as often as you did. People like you make the job a lot easier, believe me."

     "I guess you must love Zero, then."

     "Uh huh." Phoebe grabbed a circular saw from her work bench, evoking an earsplitting howl from the device. "Here, hold still for a moment. I need to trim your head off. It's clearly malfunctioning..."

     X laughed at the peeved expression on her face. "Hey, I'm just kidding!"

     She waved the device around threateningly. "Well... I dunno..."

     "Uh... that Zero sure is a jerk! He's a complete moron!"

     "Better," Phoebe approved, putting down the saw and picking up a scanning unit. "But what ever happened to 'I want to be a great hunter, just like Zero!'"

     "I can't say anything without you twisting it around, can I?"

     "Don't be silly," Phoebe corrected, critically inspecting X's shoulder joint. "The correct answer under all circumstances is 'Gee, Phoebe, you're absolutely right, as always. I'm just a complete moron who doesn't have a clue what he's talking about.'"

     "You're shameless."

     "Don't be silly. No amount of praise could possibly do me justice. Oi, your arm is laced with micro-fractures. Who did this repair job?"

     "Nobody. It seemed fine when I got back, so I didn't bother getting it fixed."

     "That was stupid of you. This joint could have failed under the right kind of pressure, and then where would you be? When you kick Sigma's ass, you're automatically entitled to all the repairs you want. It's in the hunter benefits package, y'know."

     "I didn't know there was one in the first place."

     "Hey, don't fight it. You're the only one who'll ever get a chance to claim it. Oi, I'm going to have to replace your entire arm truss. It's not doing its job, that's why you're arm frame is fractured in the first place. You must have taken a hit there at some point."

     "If it's that big of a deal..."

     "Don't be silly. It's easy to fix. We just don't have the parts here. I'll have some within a few days, though. Just stay out of combat and that kind of stuff, alright? Shouldn't be too hard right now, huh?"

     "Right." That was a pleasant thought, actually.

     Phoebe had grabbed the decoupler's twin, the coupler, and was now reattaching the section to X's arm, using small pulses of plasma flame. "Anyway, even with the fractures your frame is probably still way tougher than most reploid's. Dr. Light knew how to make robot frames, that's for sure. They still haven't come up with a better combat design a century later."

     "You mean, I was designed for fighting?"

     "I doubt it. Your frame is designed to survive severe trauma, that's all. Really severe trauma. I think you might have more failsafes in you than the rest of Maverick HQ. Most new reploid models don't bother with all that, because they take so much energy. And then they get trashed on the field. Oi."

     X looked thoughtful. "You know, I was talking with Zero before. He thinks that something gets lost in the newer models... because he's a pretty old model too. But we were both good hunters..."

     Phoebe frowned at the hunter's name, but didn't argue the statement. "Well... he does have a point. If you look over all the records, a lot of the casualties are from the newer models. More than there should be, considering all the advanced hardware they often have. If you ask me, that's just because they tend to die once they're damaged, whereas the older models can usually limp back to HQ to be repaired."

     "So you think that the older models are better for combat?"

     The R&D head gave him a funny look, her demeanor waxing to a somewhat more serious attitude. "What's eating you? Did you want me to say 'yes' or 'no' to that question?"

     X gave up on the subtle approach. "Zero says that I know how to fight."

     "Well, you've trashed a lot of mavericks, right? You'd have to be malfunctioning not to have learned how to fight by now, don't you think?"

     "It's not that. He says that I... understand how to fight. Even from the beginning. That's why I did so well."

     Finished reattaching the surface of X's armour, Phoebe tossed the tool onto the pile of debris cluttering the workbench. "Well, did you? Even I know how lame the training given to new hunters is. We just never had the resources to make it any better. But the fact remains that you went through some pretty intense stuff and survived, right? You can't give it all up to dumb luck. You must've been able to make some split-second decisions that kept you alive."

     X nodded reluctantly. "I guess... Zero might be right. Sometimes when I was fighting... things just seemed obvious to me. I could tell what the maverick or machine was going to do next, and I was already anticipating it. But I don't really know how I knew."

     "You've got me on that one. But you have to remember that we still don't understand reploid technology very well. We can put together the parts, but we don't really have a clue how they work to create a reploid instead of a robot. It's a fact that reploids can pick up habits and preferences without even realizing it themselves. Humans can do or know lots of things on a subconscious level. I bet reploids probably can too."

     X mulled over that suggestion for moment as he and Phoebe left the room. "So... you think that I know how to fight... on a subconscious level?"

     "Makes as much sense as any other possibility. And besides, you were made by Dr. Light. The same guy who won the Light-Wily wars. The guy who invented reploids in the first place. The guy probably had decades worth of combat data to base his designs on. How do you know that he didn't somehow implant some combat programs into your subconscious? Just as a precaution?"

     "Yeah, maybe that's it."

     "Say that again," Phoebe suggested, hitting the LOCK button next to the door. "Except sound a little more cheerful. I'd kill to have a few subconscious instructions from the great Dr. Light himself, y'know?"

     X managed a smile. "Right. I'm just thinking, that's all. Where were you headed?"

     Phoebe gave a dismissive wave. "Nowhere special. Just taking a little break before I start getting ready for tomorrow."

     "You're inspecting Sigma's fortress?"

     "What's left of it. We're going to try and sort through the mess you left behind. I want to make sure the whole mess is concluded properly."

     X nodded in agreement. "Well, have fun, I guess."

     "I always have fun!" Phoebe declared, starting down one hallway.

     The scary thing was that she was probably right, X reflected, starting down the other hallway. Whether she was having a drink in the lounge or re-attaching a reploid's head and body together, Phoebe usually seemed to radiate cheerfulness like a high-powered spotlight. Although some individuals (Zero, etc.) simply wrote that up as insanity or reploid-neurosis. Most simply considered it a blessing, since she tended to be downright nasty when angry.

     Just the same, X wished that he could be so cheerful sometimes. He'd just finished being told that there was a distinct possibility that his creator had loaded his subconscious with comprehensive instructions on how to fight. To say nothing about how effective the instructions had clearly been. And Phoebe thought that he was supposed to feel cheerful about it all?

     And then there was the fact that after only a few days of combat, X had located a buried capsule, complete with parts for an Emergency Acceleration System upgrade and a holographic message from Dr. Light in it. Even now, he wasn't quite certain how he'd been able to locate the capsule. X also didn't know how he'd found the two other capsules, one containing body armour, the other containing a headpiece upgrade. Both parts had fit his frame like a glove, as though he'd been meant to wear them from the very beginning. And they'd definitely seen him through some extremely tight situations.

     The holographic messages that the capsules had contained clearly indicated that Dr. Light had made provisions for X to be a fighter. To paraphrase the man's own words, one day, the world might once again be in need of a champion. Did that mean that Dr. Light had honestly foreseen the need for X to fight? Or had his creator simply been trying to account for an uncertain future...? And if the former was true, what exactly had Dr. Light foreseen in the first place? Surely not the maverick threat...

     X refocused his attention on where he was walking, realizing that he was now in front of his quarters. Maybe his subconscious was telling him that he needed to relax a little, he decided ruefully. The way things had been recently, that wouldn't surprise him at all.

******************

     By the time night had fallen, the courtyard was empty, save for the grave-markers that had been erected earlier that day. Although the rain had finally died away, leaving the surroundings appropriately damp, the air itself still possessed an chilly edge that undoubtedly did much to keep most individuals indoors. Which suited him quite fine, as it had been his intention from the start to be here by himself.

     One of the nuances of being a reploid, Zero reflected, was that he never had to worry about the elements. Although his entire body was still due for a proper repair job, virtually every single component within him was independently weather and waterproof. Which gave him the luxury of being able to stand in the middle of the graveyard and stare at tombstones as long as he wanted to.

     It was funny how easy it was to tell which grave markers covered humans, and which ones covered reploids. The human graves had a few things that the reploids ones didn't. Last names. Last words. A lifespan of more than two years. For all the vaunted similarities between humans and reploids, death had a way of cutting through the optimism and metaphorical garbage being spouted nowadays. He'd almost wound up here as well. And no one, himself included, would have even known what to put for a year of birth.

     But unlike most hunters, he'd resigned himself to the idea of being destroyed a long time ago. And then he'd gone and lived his life anyway. Let the other hunters play at their situation tactics and their cautious fighting. Let them exist in fear of somehow making a mistake and being destroyed as a result. Let them brag about their state-of-the-art combat subroutines, and put their faith in their upgraded weapons and armour.

     He'd danced his way across the battlefield, utterly fearless and utterly confident in what he'd understood his abilities to be. And he'd torn through entire squads of mavericks, old and new alike, proving what a crock terms like 'old' and 'new' really were when only a year separated them. In its simplest form, war was about hitting the enemy, and dodging whatever they threw back - repeat as necessary. And for whatever reason, he'd been incredibly good at it. When he'd been fighting, he'd owned the battlefield, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

     And why had he done it? Why had he gone out again and again to fight?

     He'd enjoyed it. A lot.

     He'd have been lying to try and claim otherwise. Not so much the act of destroying, but more the process of not being destroyed himself. The feeling of knowing that he was balancing on a metaphorical tightrope, with only his own skills and instincts keeping him from falling. If it parallelled any particular human feeling, it would probably have been a massive adrenaline rush.

     Was that the only reason he'd fought? Perhaps there was another reason, he forced himself to admit. Nothing so clear-cut as his primary motivation, and definitely something he made sure never to think about while on the battlefield. But it was definitely there in the background, providing a small, additional, source of motivation during the occasional periods of repair or rest that he'd had. Put simply, if he hadn't done it, someone else might have tried. And they probably wouldn't have succeeded in his place. And then another person might have tried... And another... And another...

     "You knew him?"

     Zero spun to face the new arrival, presently standing only a few feet behind him. His internal systems must be even more slagged than he'd realized if someone had actually been able to sneak up on him like that. After seeing  nothing in his line of view,  he aimed his gaze slightly downwards. "Oh. It's you."

     Phoebe frowned at the greeting, looking down towards the stone. Her clothing sported more than a small number of grease and fluid stains. It was quite possible that she'd only now been able come out here herself. The rather sombre expression she wore was enough to confirm that she hadn't simply come for an evening walk. "Nice to see you too. So... do you know this guy?"

     Zero looked at the stone before him, reading the inscription for the first time. "Not really. He was in the 12th for a few months before he was destroyed. What are you doing out here, kid?"

     "Oi. Don't call me that," she muttered. "And I was busy repairing someone during the ceremony, in case you'd forgotten. So I'm paying my respects to the departed now. Something wrong with that?"

     "Surprised you even cared in the first place. Less repair work for you to do, right?"

     Phoebe punched him.

     Presently unburdened of all his weaponry and armour, Zero was knocked clear off his feet, reflexes only barely managing to turn the motion into a lopsided roll. He got to his feet, ignoring the significant dent now in his side. "What's your problem, kid?"

     Phoebe glared at him, her clenched fists suggesting that she wasn't above taking a few more swings at him. "You're such an asshole, Zero!"

     He frowned, getting to his feet again. "And you're a neurotic bitch. Did you want me to hit you back?"

     "What the hell do you know about anything?! All you ever cared about was finding more mavericks to kill!"

     Zero's eyes narrowed. "Is that all you think I care about, brat? Considering that I can probably count the number of combat hours you've logged on one fist, you've got a lots of guts saying that to my face."

     "Why don't you count the number of hours you haven't spent either fighting or getting repaired between fights? You probably can use your other fist to do it."

     "Would you have preferred I take a vacation and let a few more hunters get scrapped? Would that have made you happy? More wreckage to weld back together?"

     "Shut up! Do you think I enjoy being surrounded by mangled and half-destroyed hunters! Do you think I like working 168-hour weeks, barely keeping up with the workload? Is that how you think I am?"

     Zero scowled. "So where do you get off thinking that I do?"

      "Just shut the hell up!!!" Phoebe yelled. "You have absolutely NO idea what's it's like... fixing up you hunters, just to have you idiots walk out and wind up getting damaged or destroyed the next day... do you have any idea how frustrating it is?"

     Her voice had dropped to a whisper by this time. "So many of these stones here... do you know how many of these I fixed up at one time or another? But they wound up being destroyed anyway. If I thought for a moment that I could bring them back..."

     "You'd do almost anything," Zero finished flatly. "Right? Get over it. You can't bring them back now, and there wasn't a damn thing you could have done to make things any different back then."

     "That's bullshit!" Phoebe hissed. "You're just a pessimistic killjoy. Maybe the last year really sucked, but I refuse to believe that I didn't make a difference!"

     "I practically lived on the field," he shot back. "If mavericks didn't come for me, I went after them. Most of the time, I didn't even bother coming back to HQ for repairs. And I destroyed more mavericks and renegade machines than I even bothered to count. Hell, even the 17th was scared of me sometimes."

     Zero waved his hand in the general direction of the stones. "And look how many hunters still died anyway. How do you think I like that? Quit with the melodramatic garbage already. Take it from me - you can give 110%, and it still won't be enough."

     The Hunter leaned back against a nearby tree. "I guess it never stopped me from trying anyway."

     Phoebe sighed, leaning back against the same tree. Despite spending approximately 99% of his time being antisocial, Zero wasn't the spiteful or malicious type. And while he seemed to have an innate ability to piss off absolutely anyone around him (especially her), it tended to stem more from natural talent than any deliberate effort on his part. Unlike most people, she'd actually managed to figure it out some time ago. Not that any of that knowledge ever reduced the urge to feed him to a trash compactor sometimes... "You don't get angry at anything, do you?"

     "Never really had anything to get angry over."

     "You're nuts."

     "You're one to talk."

     "Little Red Riding Hood."

     "Loony Brat."

     "You've got a lot of guts, insulting the head of R&D like that."

     "You've got a lot of guts, insulting the head of the 17th like that."

     "You do realize what I do to people who insult me?"

     "Hmph. You realize what I do to people who insult me?"

     "Nothing yet."

     "Same for you."

     "Oi. Brain-dead Blond."

     "Hmph. Wannabe Hippie."

     "Cherry Avenger."

     "Crayon Head."

     The two briefly went silent, neither quite willing to permit themselves to laugh at the situation. In a graveyard, it simply seemed a little too... morbid. Regardless, the tension in the air seemed to have dropped to a much less volatile level.

     It was Zero who finally interrupted the silence. "So why did you do it?"

     "Do what?"

     "Dig me out of all that wreckage."

     "X reported that you'd self-destructed yourself to take out Vile. I happen to know that the type 1A reploid design doesn't actually have a self-destruct ability. So it probably wasn't as bad as X thought."

     "But I was definitely disabled. And the entire fortress blew up a little while later. What exactly made you bother trying to dig me out in the first place? Even if I wasn't quite dead yet, the odds weren't exactly in my favour after the entire building got dropped on me."

     "I dunno. I guess I just got sick and tired of hunters dying. Even if there wasn't much chance of me being able to make a difference. I guess that didn't stop me from trying, huh?"

     Zero chuckled quietly as he caught her meaning. "Touche. Here's to a couple of crazies who keep on trying anyway."

     "So what are you going to do now?" Phoebe finally asked. "Now that this whole war is over with?"

     "Never really thought that far ahead. I guess I'll just wait until something comes up. What about you? What are you going to do now that the war's over?"

     Phoebe shrugged. "Lots of stuff. We've got lots of clean-up to do at Sigma's fortress. We're leaving first thing tomorrow morning. I don't trust heavy machinery around sites with fragile things in them. There's no way that I'm leaving the operation unsupervised."

     "Why not start tonight?"

     "About half of the team is human, you know. They need sleep and that sort of stuff. And if some of the rain dries up or drains away, it'll be that much easier. Besides... I wanted to take a little break from it all. I came out here for a little peace and quiet."

     Zero smirked at her tone of voice. "Yeah, well I did too. And I was here first, remember? So what's your hurry to get started tomorrow? The stuff isn't going to go anywhere, is it? And it's not like you're going to find any other hunters in the wreckage."

     "No, but that's no excuse for being lazy."

     "I guess that's why you're still working on that new arm-cannon design in your lab? Must be some huge pieces of rubble that need clearing."

     She glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

     His face was expressionless. "Of course not. And your reasons for wanting to inspect every single recovered maverick robot are perfectly innocent too."

     "Maybe they are."

     "Whatever. I want my body to be fully repaired and ready for combat within the next few days."

     "The war's over now. If you think command is going to approve something like that..."

     Zero narrowed his eyes. "Then you're just going to have to work around that little detail for now. You may be crazy, kid, but you're not stupid. And I think you know as well as I do that this whole maverick business isn't over with by a long shot."

     Phoebe sighed, but didn't dispute the statement. "We had reploids going maverick before Sigma was even produced. And no one's been able to figure out the actual cause. Therefore, we still have a problem."

     "Exactly. So the next time some reploid goes maverick, what's going to happen? I know how to fight, but I don't have anything to fight them with right now."

     Popular belief dictated that reploids didn't get headaches. Popular belief was dead wrong, Phoebe decided wearily. And no one had gotten around to inventing Aspirin for reploids. "I'll see what I can do. In case you'd forgotten, it's illegal to manufacture 1A-type reploid frames now. Parts are hard as hell to find for them. Give me a few days to look around."

     If Zero was upset over the idea of having to wait a few days, he didn't say anything aloud. "Do what you can. And then I'll do what I can to keep a few more hunters from winding up out here."

     Phoebe watched the hunter's back for a few more moments before offering an answer. "Get inside, idiot. Some of those replacement components are just regular steel. I didn't dig you out just to have you rust away, y'know."

     "It's so nice to feel cared for."

     "Oi. See how 'cared for' you feel when I'm using an 8-inch angle grinder to get rid of the rust."

     Zero just chuckled, starting back towards the base. "Same to you, kid. Same to you."

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