Disclaimer: this story uses characters and situations copyright Capcom. They are used without permission, and not for profit.

If you have half as much fun reading this story as I did writing it, you're in for a good time.

"I don't like it when they hide."

Rekir looked over to his boss. He saw red armor and a beam saber perched atop one shoulder. He saw blonde, unreasonably long hair. He saw a sharp-featured, almost idyllically handsome face. He saw an intricate, personalized design-and in the world of robots, such extra care meant extra resources spent on the build, and extra resources meant more power.

For all his power, Zero, squad leader for the 0th Squad of the Maverick Hunters, looked perturbed.

That was enough to worry Rekir. Zero's lack of expression was famous throughout the Hunters. He was a loner by inclination. His recent experience with death hadn't seemed to change much.

Reploids, Rekir knew, were capable of the same emotional range as humans, and their personalities were as varied and colorful. Some reploids hooted and hollered and cut up. They were loud and proud. Zero was all the way on the other side of the spectrum.

It had gotten better of late. Zero seemed to get along with the legendary father of reploids, X, and with X's recent joining of the Maverick Hunters he seemed to be settling. That didn't make him easy to work with, exactly. Most reploids still feared him. When Zero had first appeared, it was in a blaze of fury and madness and death. It had been, at the time, the most Hunters ever lost in a single incident. Even after Zero's defeat and rehabilitation, most people didn't think he was truly "fixed", and stayed away. Only slowly, by demonstrating unmatched skills and steadiness in service of the Hunters, was Zero able to achieve some measure of acceptance.

Then Zero had gone and died in the First Maverick War, only to reappear-seemingly intact-at the zenith of the Second. Rumors abounded that X and Zero had clashed. Whispers circulated that Zero's madness had returned. Even though Zero eventually returned to the Hunters, seemingly safe and sound, the rift between him and the general Hunter population had reopened.

Zero had long-ago earned the nickname "Red Demon". To your average Hunter, his resurrection was more infernal than miraculous.

When he thought about it, Rekir felt that Zero's solitude might be internalized ostracism. It was the sensation the "out" kid gets that there must be something wrong with him, after all. Better off alone.

All Rekir knew for sure was that Zero was with the Hunters again, and back in command of the 0th Squad, and that put Rekir back to his usual spot of cleaning up after Zero's messes. Compared to Zero, Rekir was an unremarkable humanoid reploid. His mixed green and white armor wasn't uncommon. He lacked any hair-his helmet was permanently installed. His large tread feet were, unlike for Zero or X, not a place to conceal boosters for extra acceleration, but a necessity to keep his inferior balance servos from dumping him on the ground every few minutes. Seeing Rekir and Zero side-by-side was almost a let-down. But being normal, in Rekir's opinion, had advantages of its own.

"Why's that?" he asked Zero. "What's different when Mavericks hide?"

"Hiding is an expression of weakness," Zero said contemptuously. "It's a way of avoiding a fight you wouldn't win. But a Maverick is a Maverick because he's chosen to fight. And if he chooses to fight, what business does he have trying to avoid me?"

"I wouldn't want to fight you," Rekir said honestly.

"Of course not. You would lose," said Zero without judgment or contempt. "You know this, so you don't do anything that would make us enemies."

Rekir frowned. "I like to think I'm a Hunter who avoids Maverickism because it's the right thing to do."

Zero studied him for a moment. "Oh," he said, "you mean like X is always talking about?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

Zero's face sharpened as he concentrated, as if Rekir had said something difficult to grasp. The moment passed, and he shook his head. "Either way, I prefer it when Mavericks don't hide. I'd much rather fight them directly and be done with it."

"I won't argue there." Rekir brought the transport to a hover, then to the ground, touching down at the side of the road. "This is the address we were given," he said, pointing out Zero's window. The Hunter squad leader turned his head to look at the building-large, white, with numerous windows of colored glass.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"Saint Simon's," Rekir replied. When Zero showed no signs of comprehension, he added, "It's a church."

"A church?" Rekir could almost see Zero reviewing his files. "I don't know what that is," the red robot said when he finished.

That left Rekir stumped. One of the reasons no one knew much about Zero was that Zero knew so little about himself. When he'd woken up in Hunter custody, it was with vast swathes of his memory missing or garbled. On the other hand, the limited list of things he did know was disturbing. He knew more about X's design, for example, than anyone short of Dr. Cain or X himself.

Not for the first time, Rekir wondered if this gap in Zero's memory was something he'd forgotten or something he'd never known.

Rekir tried to figure out how to explain it. "It's a place of worship," he said. "It's a place religious people go to for services and rituals."

He wondered if Zero understood.

"Oh."

He didn't.

"Supposedly," Rekir said, trying to segue, "our Maverick was a member of the congregation here. He was last seen going inside."

"So he's hiding inside," Zero said. His eyes narrowed. "But I don't see any signs of violence, and... Rekir, are there any humans permanently at the church?"

"I've got a report that there are some live-in clergymen there."

"So... yes?"

"Yes."

"But the Maverick hasn't attacked them," Zero said, "or if he has it's been awfully quiet…" Reaching over the seatback he grabbed a headset and tossed it to Rekir. "We'll do a perimeter sweep," he said. He looked back to where the third member of their team, Mace, waited patiently, cradling a sizeable laser cannon. His stocky, solid build was meant to provide him a stable firing position regardless of where he was or what was going on around him. It also made him resemble a series of barrels joined together. The upper portion of his face was hidden beneath a red visor, polarized so that Mace could see out but no one could see back in. Combined with his quiet demeanor, it left the sniper impossible to read.

Zero's face flickered into a frown. Rekir thought he understood why. "Zero," he said quietly, "I told you Boj died in the Second War."

Zero nodded, and his face eased. He tossed a second headset to Mace. He took none for himself; unlike his compatriots, Rekir knew, Zero had an internal transmitter. It was an almost unheard-of luxury for replica androids-but then, Zero wasn't a reploid. No one knew quite what he was, but reploid wasn't it. "Mace, you'll cover the street from the van," he said. "We'll keep in touch on Hunter circuits."

He and Rekir got out as Mace prepped himself for overwatch. They all knew the routine by now. If there was a Maverick holed up in there, they didn't dare just rush in, not when there were humans that might still die. They needed to confirm his presence, then close in on him like a net. If it came to direct combat, there was no question of the eventual outcome-not with Zero on their side. But, Rekir knew, letting humans die along the way…

There was a legal case, famous amongst the Maverick Hunters, of a Hunter who'd chased a Maverick through a populated area. The collateral damage to humans from the chase had been so extensive that the Hunter was deemed to have broken the First Law of Robotics. There was only one punishment for a robot that broke the Three Laws of Robotics.

The Hunters never said his name these days.

Just as Zero and Rekir were preparing to go their separate ways, the church's front doors opened. A man in black pants and a short-sleeved, button-up black shirt strode out; a tab of white could be seen in the center of his collar. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Rekir and Zero shared a surprised glance. Zero spoke to the man. "Is there a Maverick in there?"

"No," the man replied, drawing closer. Rekir was able to get a good look at him. He was past middle aged for a human, somewhere between 50 and 60 (Rekir's sense for such things, unusually good for a reploid, pegged him at 55). His hair, which had once been brown, was now predominantly grey, and was swept back along his head in a form of comb-over. He wasn't balding center-out, Rekir decided, he just had less hair everywhere. The man's hands were callused and tough, like old leather, which surprised Rekir, and his face was lined in the brow and cheeks, which didn't surprise him at all. The man's face was benevolent-not really smiling, but ready to smile at any time.

Maybe he hadn't heard about the charges, Rekir decided. Zero seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he said, "There's a reploid named Vanzetti that we're trying to find. Did he…"

"...Come through here?" the man replied. "Oh, yes. He was here not long ago. He's one of my parishioners. A regular, he is, every Sunday, tries to come to the daily services when he can..."

"He was here?" said Rekir, concern coming into voice and face alike, concern strong enough for him to interrupt. "Is everyone okay? Who was hurt?"

"No one was hurt," the man said soothingly. "Nothing happened. He wished to talk to me, and I let him. It's my job to listen, you know. My commission. I'll never turn away someone who wants to talk."

"Splendid," Rekir said hurriedly, "but what did he say? Where did he go?"

"Ah. That, I can't tell you."

Zero's head, which had been looking over the outside of the church, snapped about to look at the man. "What? He talked to you, didn't he?"

"Yes, I did say that."

"So what was it about?"

"I can't tell you," the man repeated patiently.

Zero's face twisted in incomprehension. Rekir might have laughed if he didn't feel the same. "Why not?" he managed.

"Because it was in the context of the sacrament of confession," the man replied. "Nothing he said there goes outside the confessional."

"So he didn't come here as a Maverick," Zero said, "but to go to this… confession?"

"Vanzetti came here to go to confession, yes," the man replied.

Realization burst upon Rekir. Rust me, he thought. "And then you came out here to cover for him while he got away!"

Zero was already blurred into motion, so fast Rekir could barely follow him. The man stumbled in the wash of Zero's sprint, and Rekir reached to help, but the man steadied himself on his own. His expression was the same as it had ever been.

Rekir did some quick calculations and determined Zero would complete a sweep before Rekir could start his, so he remained with the man. "I hope you understand what this all means," he said severely.

"Oh, yes," he replied placidly. "Vanzetti did speak to me, you know."

"Then why let him go? Why help him escape?"

The man blinked at Rekir. The blink somehow made Rekir embarrassed that he'd asked the question without the man seeming like the bad guy for saying so. That, Rekir thought, was not fair at all.

Zero returned to them. His face betrayed his irritation. "The perimeter is clear," he said. "No visual on anyone coming to or going away. If I went inside your… church... I wouldn't find him inside, would I?"

"I don't think you would," the man said. "I couldn't say for certain-I left him to speak to you-but I believe he's gone out into the city proper."

"Where?" demanded Zero.

The man sighed. "I've told you already, I will not betray his confidence. Ask however you like. Ask what he said, or what he implied. Ask where he's going, or where he's been. I will answer the same way. If your question is about something I know outside of his confession, I will cooperate. But the contents of his confession? Never."

"How can you say that?" Rekir shouted. "We have a known Maverick on the loose and you're doing... nothing?"

"You're quick to rush to judgment."

"I'm not rushing to judgment," Rekir said crossly, "I can see you not cooperating!"

"That's very true."

Exasperated, Rekir looked to Zero. The red robot was not moving. All his faculties were occupied with thinking. He looked up after long moments. "Rekir," he said, "we can't do anything to him or with him, can we?"

"We can't," Rekir said grudgingly.

"If you wish," the man offered, "you could have the police department bring me in for questioning. It will go little better, though. Either way, I need to be back before eight a.m. on Sunday. That should give me enough time to prepare for the day's services."

"How can you think about that right now?" Rekir said.

"We all have our responsibilities," the man replied. "I have mine, as surely as you have yours. I have a flock to tend to, you know."

Rekir was at a loss. He gave Zero a helpless shrug. The red robot shifted uncomfortably. "Rekir," he said, "I will search the interior of the church, just to be sure. Arrange for him," he pointed at the man in case there was any ambiguity, "to be picked up by ACPD."

"That's fine," the man replied. "Here's the key, by the way. That'll let you in to the church without needing to do anything drastic-you have a reputation, Zero of the 0th Squad, for not letting things stand in your way, and our building fund doesn't have enough in it to easily replace doors. Just kindly lock up when you're done, and I'll need the key back eventually."

Rekir finally understood part of why he felt so disoriented. This man seemed to know everything about the situation, and they knew nothing. He even knew Zero by sight and reputation, and they knew... nothing. "Who are you?" he asked.

The man looked at him, and a smile crept on to his face. "I was wondering when you'd ask that. My name is Vito Cherup. I'm a priest, and the pastor here at Saint Simon's, and you," he gave Zero a reproachful look, "have trampled my chrysanthemums."

Simple was best.

Zero fervently believed this. He'd heard it formulated in other ways, but those other ways all took more words to say it, which violated the spirit of the thing. Simple was best. It's not that he wasn't smart; he was. His combat diagnostics-his ability to read the actions and construction of opponents to capture their potentials and predict their actions-were as good as existed. Only X was in his league in that regard. About most things, he learned very quickly.

Nor was it that he despised necessary complexity. His body was complex. He acknowledged that. His targeting programs had very complex algorithms. He knew that. When complexity was unavoidable, he'd put up with it.

When complexity was unnecessary, he despised it.

"Explain," he said to Rekir.

He could see his subordinate sigh. He'd made that gesture before, although Zero was still working on what it meant. "It's called clerical privilege."

Zero and Rekir looked through the glass to see the priest sitting at the table in the plain, gray room. This was a first. Zero hadn't ever visited the human police stations before. There'd been no need. There was no equivalent for the interrogation room at Hunter Base, unless you counted the labs where they reconstructed reploids' final moments.

Zero avoided those labs.

"Clerical privilege," Zero repeated. "So... because he's a priest, he doesn't have to talk to the police?"

"Sort of. It only works if he was acting as a priest at the time. Like, if Vanzetti had walked up to him in the street and said whatever it was he said, the priest would have to tell us now. But because he was making a confession, and Vito heard it as a priest…"

"It's privileged?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand."

Rekir shrugged. "I only sort-of understand. That's how the law's written, and that's about as much as I get. I've never been to church, myself," he added.

Zero almost said, "Neither have I." It would have been silly to say, of course, because he'd needed someone to define church for him, so it should have been obvious he'd never been to one. Instead he said nothing.

Vito had been as good as his word. He had spoken at length about Vanzetti. He'd described the reploid in sufficient detail that there could be no doubt about who he meant. He'd relayed how frequently and passionately the reploid had attended services, prayed, and sung. He even went on a short tangent about how Vanzetti had considered becoming a cantor.

And, as promised, he made the police look silly when they tried to get at the content of Vanzetti's confession. Vito evaded, dodged, and refused. Whether they came at it sideways or directly, pleadingly or angrily, they got nowhere. Zero was forced to acknowledge the man: he was both stubborn and clever.

"This is pointless," Rekir said.

"I agree," Zero said. "The priest won't tell them anything. I think we have his measure, now."

"It's frustrating."

"Yes." Zero shook his head. "Isn't there a human equivalent of the First Law? "A robot shall not...by inaction, allow a human being to come to harm"?"

"Criminal negligence, yeah, but clerical privilege trumps it. Aiding and abetting a criminal, maybe, for helping him escape."

"I hope they get him with that."

"Oh? I'm not used to you taking things personally."

Zero shifted uncomfortably. "How can he stand against me like that? How can he keep me from doing what I'm supposed to do? And how can he do it while saying he's right?" He shook his head. "I destroy Mavericks. It's what I do. If I ever thought that destroying Mavericks wasn't right... I wouldn't like that feeling." He pointed at the priest. "He almost makes me feel like that."

Rekir nodded. "Like... maybe there's a reason he's protecting him?"

"If it were just the clerical privilege thing… I think I could understand that. The rest…"

The police seemed to have given up. The two interrogators were talking to each other in the corner of the room. The priest looked up at the glass of the observation room and gave a cheery wave.

"It's one-way glass," Rekir hastened to say when Zero started. "He can't see us."

"Then why do it?"

"You got me. Humans are strange creatures."

The interrogators broke their huddle. "I'm afraid we'll be keeping you a while longer," one said. "Priest Vito Cherup, I hereby arrest you on suspicion of Aiding and Abetting a Known Criminal."

"Good," said Zero, but the priest was already shaking his head.

"That won't work," Vito replied. "Vanzetti is not a known criminal."

"He's been declared Maverick," the interrogator shot back.

"Which is not the same thing," Vito countered. "If you examine our legal code, the laws-including the law against Aiding and Abetting-all refer to "humans", "people", or "persons". Reploids are not legal persons. Therefore, they cannot break the law. If they can't break the law, they can't be criminals, so aiding or abetting them is not illegal."

"What are you talking about?" said the other interrogator. "We're talking about a reploid that broke the Three Laws! How is that not a crime?"

"The Three Laws of Robotics are separate and distinct from normal criminal law," Vito said. "A reploid who breaks the Three Laws is not a criminal, he's a Maverick. He doesn't get the benefits and protections of the criminal justice system, he gets plasma to the head. You can't have it both ways. So, there is no law that prohibits aiding and abetting a Maverick. What human would do it?"

"You, apparently," the interrogator snarled.

"If you say so." The priest calmly smoothed down one of his sleeves. "That said, if you try to arrest me on those grounds anyway, be sure to give Mr. Slate a call. He's an acquaintance of mine-I presided over his daughter's wedding, you see. He happens to agree with me on this little nuance of the law. I'm sure he'd be happy to explain it to you."

Zero watched the interrogators' faces getting paler and paler as Vito spoke. Zero turned to one of the humans standing nearby. "Who's Mr. Slate?" he asked.

That human, too, blanched. "He's a criminal defense attorney," he said. "Naw, that's not right. He's the criminal defense attorney. Drove one DA to early retirement, drove a second to drink. If you took any ten normal lawyers, and got their best cases, Slate's top ten would trump 'em all. Got so many people wanting him on their side he half-retired by age forty. Nowadays you can't pay him enough to take your case. He don't work for money. He only shows up for cases he thinks are fun." He shook his head. "I wouldn't mess with him. Hell, I wouldn't touch anything he's a part of."

"Vito seems to make interesting friends," Rekir said drily. Zero had to agree.

The interrogators had reconvened their huddle, causing Zero to frown. "Are they going to let him go?" he said, disappointed.

The human answered. "I would, if it were me. I wouldn't wanna run against Mr. Slate unless I had something rock solid-and even then I'd think twice."

Zero, mind unsettled, watched as the interrogators closed with Vito. The discussion was low and not very interesting, at that point, although he did see the priest give small rectangles of paper to the two interrogators. What had X called those-business cards, that was probably it. And then the priest walked out, unmolested.

Zero's feet were moving on their own. Before he knew it he was in the same corridor as the priest, intercepting him, blocking him from walking past. The human had to check himself to keep from colliding with Zero. "Why are you doing this?" Zero hissed, ignoring the clamor of the police as they gathered to watch. "There's a Maverick out there, and one human's dead, with more expected to die, and here you are, saying nothing! What's wrong with you? What do you think you're doing?"

Vito smiled mildly. "I'm glad you're on this case, Zero," he said. "If I'm to be honest, and I hope you forgive me for it, I would have preferred X, but I understand he's a very busy person. You'd be my second choice, though, so I'll be satisfied with that."

Zero's face reformed into its confused expression; his form stiffened as all available mental capacity was redirected. Without further words Vito stepped around Zero and proceeded out. Slowly, the police got the idea that there was nothing more to see, that Zero was not going to do anything crazy, and they drifted away in ones and twos.

"Sir," Rekir said quietly, having followed on his boss' heels, "we should get going."

Nodding numbly, Zero assented.

To be continued...