Footsteps echoed in the abandoned parking garage. Giggles and loud voices carried surprisingly far, bouncing down the ghost-hollow levels still lit by flickering storm lights.

"C'mon, c'mon! I wanna see. Hurry up!"

"I'm coming, shut up!"

"I'll turn it on!"

Lurking at the inner back corner of level 11F, just one down from the roof and next to the dead elevator was a makeshift cocoon of torn metal plates, fragments of wood board, and faded striped blankets, with christmas lights strung around the whole mess.

The loud footsteps grew closer, and the eldest of three grimy-looking boys scurried away from the staircase, hands cupped around something precious, and pushed through the blanket that acted as a 'door' to the cocoon. He hit a badly-wired switch inside, and a yellow glow began to creep out from between the boards and beams; the string of christmas lights began to tinkle.

He looked around the interior of their haven with satisfaction- there were some wobbly shelves on which strange objects rested: an abandoned perfume bottle, dirty on one side but made of shiny cut crystal, a collection of smooth glass fragments and agates, a thick stack of faded, battered trading cards, a white bowl full of charred spent brass bullet casings, each as long as a boy's finger. On the floor were pillows and blankets, and another round of christmas lights formed a strange circular halo on the ceiling.

In short order, the others piled in- two other boys, one thin and black-eyed with a crafty look, who'd scavenged the christmas lights and wired up their fortress. The other a slightly pudgy blonde. The shell casings were his donation to the group's treasures.

They grinned at each other and the first boy, the oldest with a shock of unkempt straw hair, gestured. "Okay, we're all here, I wanna see it, c'moooon!"

It was the dark boy who answered, with a grin. "Show me yours first. I'm not showing mine until you show yours."

"Ugh. Okay, fine... jerk." The sandy-haired boy reached to the shelf and felt around for a second, then drew out a four-inch spire of gold metal with a sharp point and a broken end, and held it out in his hands proudly. "Y'know what this is? This is a totally real piece of X. Right off his armor! They were fightin' on 5th avenue and a Maverick shot him, like, right in the head! And this piece came off and went flyin' down the street like 50 feet! I ran out and grabbed it real quick and then got outta there. It's verified and everything. I saw it!"

The other boys ooh'd softly and the dark-haired one plucked it up, held it to the light. "Think it's real gold? Kinda feels soft..."

"It's probably just ceratanium, or Titanium-X, like regular," piped up the pudgy kid with a knowing look. "I'm pretty sure that's part of the Force Armor's Head Parts."

"Eh, I dunno. Not gonna -sell- it anyway, -Bryan-. Give it," and the relic was snatched back by its owner. "There, now show yours, you been making a big stupid deal out of it all day..."

"Not yet," Bryan, the dark boy, smirked again, "If all you've got's that one little sliver, that's way lame and I'm totally not gonna share mine."

"You wanna get in the club or not?"

"Not if all you've got is one lame little sliver."

"Don't be a douche, Klyde. Just show it already!"

"Hmn. Fine, I guess... but you guys better not mess with it..." The dark-haired kid reached into his jacket and pulled out a beat-up looking velvet-lined jewelry box, then opened it up and showed it around. Inside the box nestled a gleaming cabochon of green glass that had been cleaned carefully, but contained one crack on its right side from the base of the jewel up toward its apex. "You guys know what -this- is, right?"

Bryan, the large kid, gasped. "Is that one of -Zero's-...?"

Klyde nodded. "Right off his body. I got it from a friend who traded some stuff for it and then I traded off him. I guess his dad works in the cleanup company that the Hunters use to go pick up the messes after the Hunters have their fights and he got this from him. Zero blew himself up this one time, and this went flyin' and got found while they were cleanin' up."

"...Liar. That is NOT! You're so full of crap. That's a streetlight lens or something, or some other robot's junk... no way Zero'd lose a part like -that-!"

"You don't believe me?" Klyde snapped the box shut, irritated. "Fine. Then I guess I'm outta here. Maybe there's some -other- club that wants a genuine Zero part, huh?"

There was a heavy footstep outside, like something hard landing in the middle of the level. The ground shook, and the kids swayed in place, looking at each other as the lights above flickered.

The door-blanket nudged aside, and a strange head peeked inside. The head was bald, with an oddly planed chin split down the middle, and a dark orange jewel set in its forehead above two scarred eyes...

Sigma regarded the children and smiled pleasantly. "Indeed, I can think of another club that might like that part..."