Chapter Text
Unnatural holes peppered the dilapidated communications tower; still smoking from where plasma heated bullets had ripped through. The already decaying metal began squealing as another round of holes joined the rest in ripping the foundation from its base. Rusty hinges finally snapped and fell, crushing everything beneath it. The crash would have been deafening if there had been anyone else alive left to hear it.
Well, almost.
The assassin switched his audio sensors to mute briefly to avoid the worst of the offending noise as he surveyed the mess he had left behind. He was watching the destruction and tapping his fingers impatiently against one of his crossed arms as the metal rained down and joined the broken bodies below, burying them in rubble.
Once the dust had finally cleared, he switched his audio sensors back on with a dismissive flick of his fingers, humming thoughtfully to himself.
The battle had already been over for a little while now, but he decided to bury it a bit further out of sight, just in case.
Sure, He doubted any official suits or Hunters would find this anytime soon, but old habits and all that.
To Human police and Maverick Hunters, this rusty cesspool of an area was just another scrap heap labeled as ‘decommissioned’ in their files. Hell, it didn't even show up on their mapping database anymore.
To most citizens, these areas were simply cordoned off and abandoned zones to be avoided; areas outside of the Maverick Hunter influence and their patrols that were usually too dangerous to travel through.
To a select few with—ahem— less than savory jobs, they were known as ‘Dead Zones,’ Abandoned, sectioned-off areas hiding in plain sight; essentially criminal-run real estate free for the taking.
Each dead zone had become dens for smuggling rings, black markets, or worse; and most were controlled by the illegal Sector groups that ran them. Wandering inside these zones alone was either dangerous or downright suicidal depending on which Sector controlled it.
To add insult to injury, each Dead Zone was also an infected mess of dangerous, glitch-filled piles of scrap, further exacerbating the dangers they posed by being ignored by the officials in power.
But that was where the assassin came in, because If the suits and hunters weren’t going to do anything about them, then he would!
Helping to deal with the mess that Wily’s legacy had left behind was his mission straight from his creator, after all, and one that he had taken up gladly. This scrap-yard massacre was just one more battle to add to the tally that would never reach official channels.
He’d been carrying out his mission for decades and no one had ever caught him. Out of sight; out of mind. They couldn’t try to stop him from doing what needed to be done if they didn’t even know he existed.
Still…
He surveyed the massacre site with a frown.
He’d prefer to completely detonate the area to be even safer—the threat of scavengers unknowingly looting infected parts to make ends meat was a very real possibility— but as blind as the officials were to the underground criminal sects running rampant and harassing the less fortunate citizens beneath their noses, even they weren’t dumb enough to ignore an explosion.
The assassin sighed.
Ah, well. He’d just have to get in touch with some of his contacts and bribe them to keep an eye on the area for him for a while. Barring that, he also had some favors he could cash in on if he really needed to.
The tall, heavily armored form suddenly blinked white and melted away, leaving behind a sleek, scarred Reploid in its place. The new form yawned and stretched, kicking a severed limb out of his path lazily as he walked by the rubble and carnage without a second glance.
To an outsider, the sole survivor disappearing into the shadows would look like just another innocent, wide-eyed Reploid.
To an insider, they’d recognize the myriad of corpses left behind by him and realize that the entirety of the D-Sector gang of Mavericks had been torn to pieces in a single night.
A few miles away from the Dead-Zone massacre, a bunch of colorful, digital advertisements were being displayed on large screens. Massive, towering buildings lined the city streets every which way. Bright, festive lights were strung up alongside plenty of cheery decorations on street walks and storefronts.
The thrum of hovercars and flashing traffic lights mixed with the voices of humans and Reploids alike.
Off the main roads, the sidewalks were filled with pedestrians fitting in last-day purchases for the holidays. Further down the roads In the state park and city square, groups of civilians had gathered to watch the advertisement displays broadcasting a festival event.
Zero froze mid-step with a wince as a chorus of excited cheers rang out from the gathered civilians. He drew air through his vents and let it out slowly with a hiss, forcing his systems to calm down from the upset to his scanners, just as he had been practicing. He was still not comfortable with non-combat scenarios, but he liked to think that he was getting better at it.
X had been correct in thinking that it was a valuable skill that could come in handy, though it had taken a lot of convincing on X’s part for Zero to see it as such.
Like many things in his original programming that he’d had to fight against, socializing and non-combat related pursuits had been tagged as superfluous and ultimately he’d ignored them for years until he’d met X.
X… who had taken one look at Zero and had seen a person.
Even after what Zero had done…
Even when Zero had been so lost in his own invasive systems that he’d acted more like a mindless weapon then a sentient.
X had been the only one who had understood.
It had been X who had helped him when no one else would, had been the one who had freed him from a predatory contract with the hunters for no other reason then because he felt it was the right thing to do.
He’d been the one who had helped him escape from having to fight his own programming every step of the way as much as he had in the past; not so that he’d be more useful, but that he’d be more comfortable.
He’d never be able to repay X for what he had done for him.
And now look at him! Actually able to walk alongside civilians without feeling the urge to snap at every little noise as if it were a threat!
A few years ago he’d never have been able to go anywhere without his armor, but here he was, in civilian wear on his way back to HQ.
X had been right too, because of course he was. None of the civilians he passed on the street had even given him a second glance. Zero had his eyes covered with a visor, but other than that he was just like any other person on the street.
There had been no recognition, no pointing at him or gathered crowds hounding his steps. Dressed in casual black slacks and a non-formal synth-weave shirt that was normal for civilians to wear. He had his hair down and uncovered too since X had theorized that wearing a hood or using a Reploid displacement-covering over it would probably draw attention to its length more.
If anyone had told him back then that he’d end up being famous and regarded as a hero in the same regards as X was, he’d have laughed in their face.
But that was exactly what had happened, much to Zero’s horror and X’s firm agreement with their assessment. Zero would never agree.
If the general public knew what Zero had originally been programmed to do, they’d change their tune in a heartbeat. Yeah, he’d pushed passed his original programming in the end, but it had never been a sure bet.
And while he’d come a long way since he’d first been discovered, he still wasn’t convinced. His own programming was still a fight that he might lose one day, and to add insult to injury, whenever he tried to argue that point with X, his friend would just give him that gentle smile that melted his insides while assuring him that Zero would never hurt him.
Zero sighed.
X was still far too trusting for Zero’s taste, but… to his shame, it had been that same blind, unshakable trust in him that had allowed Zero to become who he was today.
Zero was all too aware that he was not the person that X thought he was, but he was trying to be, and that had to count for something.
Zero was shaken out of his thoughts as he received an incoming call to his frequency. Recognizing the ID, Zero patched his friend through with a small smile on his face.
“So…!” X began cheerfully. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t help but notice that your combat armor is still listed as on-site in the registry.”
“Noticed that, huh?” Zero teased as he picked up on the excitement in X’s voice. “I wanted to practice blending in more,” he admitted.
“Wait, then you’ll…?”
Even though X couldn’t see him, Zero nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go to the festival with you,” He confirmed with a smile.
“Yes!” X let out a loud, delighted cheer into their shared communication link and Zero laughed.