Disclaimer: This story uses characters and situations copyright Capcom. They're used without permission, but not for profit.

Note: this story will update every other Monday. Cheers.
This story stands alone. That said, it also builds on a particular interpretation I have of the Colonel/Iris relationship. If you'd like a richer experience, consider reading "Broken Glass", but it's not necessary to enjoy this story.

"I'd put that down, if I were you."

The rookie Hunter froze in place. An e-tank was in his hand. "Huh?"

Rekir, assistant squad leader for the Zeroth Squad of the Maverick Hunters, and one of the oldest Hunters still surviving, barely looked up from the report he was working on. "You know they recycle e-tanks, don't you?"

"Well… sure, that makes sense," said the rookie. He looked down at the container in his hand. The main compartment was a battery to help high-performance reploids sustain themselves between recharges. Attached was a compartment holding a slurry of bonus nanites and raw materials in easily-digestible form, the very thing to maintain critical components under stress.

It was innocuous enough, common enough. On-duty Hunters quaffed the tanks without a second thought. Now the rookie was looking at his with a frown on his face.

"Ever heard of the Cursed E-tank?"

The rookie laughed nervously. "The Cursed E-tank?"

"It's no laughing matter," said Rekir gravely. "You didn't even look at that e-tank, did you?"

"Why would I?" said the rookie, his humor fading.

Rekir fixed the rookie with his gaze. "Because there's one e-tank in particular, a Cursed E-tank. They say it's the last e-tank Sigma used before he went Maverick. He marked it, and his curse lives on. Every Hunter who's ever used that e-tank, they say, went Maverick afterwards. Mack tried to force-feed it to X during the Third War because it was the one thing that could make X go Maverick. It's a relic of evil."

"Why don't they get rid of it, then?" asked the rookie. He was slowly extending his arm, holding the e-tank further and further from his body.

"They've tried," said Rekir with a laugh. "That's part of the curse, though. Every time they think they've gotten rid of it, it shows back up again. I personally tossed an e-tank I was told was the Cursed E-tank into an incinerator. I watched it burn. That was during the clean-up after the Second War. And then eight months later, we had to Hunt a Hunter, and before he died, he screamed something about the Cursed E-tank. I can't explain it. I just know it's real."

"H-how…" the rookie gulped, holding his e-tank at arm's length. "How do you kn-know which e-tank is the Cursed E-tank?"

"It's hard, very hard. Most people don't look because e-tanks are so common. But the Cursed E-tank has a special mark on it. It's two-thirds of the way down, a small red plus sign—"

The rookie yelped. There was a clatter as the e-tank hit the floor, then a commotion as the rookie fled the Hunter break room.

"That wasn't very nice."

Rekir craned his head to see Alia, arms crossed, look stern. "What?"

The Hunters' senior Operator was below-average in height and gendered female, with blonde robot hair kept diligently away from her face. Her slim black carapace was reinforced with just enough peach-and-red armor to keep her from being an instant collateral casualty.

She was also putting on a master class in how to be imposing without an imposing physique.

She didn't reply to Rekir. Instead she strode across the room to the rack of e-tanks. She ran a finger across the front row of e-tanks, spinning them slightly. "Every e-tank has a small red plus sign two-thirds of the way down," she scolded. "It's an integrity mark to show that the two compartments were sealed properly."

Rekir looked up. "The one time I decide to have some fun with a rookie…"

"Hazing, you mean?"

"What? No, no, of course not. That word! If I wanted to haze someone, I'd, I don't know, throw him in a training scenario in which he has no chance and then brutally murder him."

"Don't try to be flippant about this," Alia said.

"I'm teaching him," Rekir said. "I'm teaching him to be skeptical and knowledgeable. He has to seek answers and know better than the people around him."

"Who he can't trust, as you've demonstrated."

"Given Mavericks, distrust is a survival trait."

"Given Mavericks, teamwork is a survival trait, and he's going to find that a lot harder if he's always wondering about Azzles playing tricks on him."

Rekir sighed. "Okay, I can see where this is going. What do I have to do to get you to shut up about this?"

Alia sat down opposite Rekir and leaned in close. When she spoke, her voice was quieter and more intense. "Tell me where Zero goes."

Rekir blinked. "Huh?"

"When he goes on his patrol, Iris is his Operator. She can only be assigned to the Zeroth and the Seventeenth—but you know that. So most of the time, as soon as he's done with his rounds, she goes off duty, too. And then… they disappear."

"Disappear," Rekir repeated.

"It used to be that they'd go for a drive in one of the Maverick Hunter vans," Alia went on, her voice almost tripping over itself. "I'd see them going out and returning. These days that's not happening. They just disappear—not in their tubes, not in the Base…"

"I really don't see what difference it makes if Zero's here or not," said Rekir. When Alia gave him a severe look, he kept his features neutral, a trick only older reploids could pull off. It defeated her. They both knew he was right, but neither could say why.

Rekir was, functionally, the Squad Leader for Zeroth Squad, not a mere Azzle. He performed all the administrative and training tasks that were normally a Squad Leader's responsibility. Zero had no appetite for such things. He was Squad Leader because of his expertise, symbolism, and incorruptibility—not because he was a good Squad Leader. Rekir picked up the slack. That meant that Zero could go missing for extended periods of time and Zeroth Squad would chug along all the same. Until a particularly bad Maverick incident occurred, he wouldn't be missed.

Not that Rekir or Alia could say that if there was even a slight possibility of being overheard.

"They're up to something," Alia said.

Rekir laughed aloud. "Like what?"

"I was hoping you had some idea."

"I long ago gave up trying to think like Zero."

"No one besides X knows him better than you," Alia said.

"Then ask X."

They shared a look.

"Okay, don't ask X. That doesn't mean I know anything, though. You're an Operator. You can tap into the whole base's security grid. If you don't know where he is, I definitely don't."

"You should, though," Alia insisted. "You're his Azzle. You have to be able to contact him when you need him."

"He doesn't tell me."

"That's… negligent of both of you. Sorry," she said when she saw Rekir's reaction, but her insincerity was audible. "I mean, you have to have some ideas. You have to know something. You've been his Azzle since before the First War."

"He's not the same anymore," Rekir replied. "Whatever I knew isn't as useful nowadays."

"Not the same. How?"

"Iris."

It was such a little word to carry so much import. It was enough to bring Alia to a pause for some time. "That's what I was afraid of," she said at last.

"Afraid," Rekir repeated. "See, this is the part that confuses me. What bothers you about this? So Zero's found a friend. So he spends time with her. And?"

"It's changing him," she replied. "You said it yourself. He's becoming someone different."

Rekir hesitated, then forced a shrug. "It doesn't bother me."

"How can you say that? You don't even know what he's doing. How can that not bother you?"

"It's not my business."

Her face went stony. "Rekir, I can tell when reploids are lying to me over a low-quality voice line. You're sitting right in front of me."

"Oh, so you're an empath now? You get a cut of Iris' code?"

Her expression told Rekir what she thought of that notion. He grinned.

"Anyway," Rekir went on, "you didn't used to be a busybody. Didn't you like to describe yourself as a professional? You're changing, too."

"I know, and I'm not proud of it," she admitted, "but something about this situation doesn't sit right with me. I feel like there's no way it can end well. It bothers me."

"You mean Iris bothers you."

That made Alia lean back. Rekir recognized this as the first time he'd really made Alia think. "I don't understand what's going on there," she said, slowly.

"With her?"

"I don't understand why…"

Rekir waited, but she made no effort to complete the sentence. Eventually, Rekir said, "She unnerves you."

"She unnerves everyone," Alia said defensively.

Rekir smiled. "You know who else unnerves everyone? Zero."

"He doesn't unnerve me."

"He used to."

"But then…" she stopped, and her eyes narrowed. "Are you really trying to tell me I just have to get used to Iris, and then I'll be okay with her and Zero acting weirdly?"

"No," Rekir replied. "I'm saying that if you want me to do something as monumentally stupid as poking my nose into Zero's business when he's trying very hard to be private, you'll need a lot more than, 'Iris unnerves me'."

"You're still scared of him, huh?" Alia said.

Rekir chuckled. "I know you pride yourself on being rational, Alia, but sometimes a little fear is a rational response. Not that any part of what you're up to seems very rational."

She looked away. "I know," she said again. "Here's my problem. Iris has been with us for weeks, now. I've tried getting used to her. I've been working with her a lot more closely than you. It should tell you something that I'm bringing this up to you anyway. Your advice is a busted spare."

"Something as useless as the part it's replacing," Rekir said. "Ouch."

She shook her head. "Let's forget Iris for now. This isn't really about her, anyway. As an Operator, I want one of us to be able to reach Zero at all times. It's standard practice. Right now I'm one or two calls away from reaching any Squad Leader or Azzle other than Zero."

"Simple," said Rekir. "Find Iris. Find Iris and you'll find Zero."

Alia looked up. "This isn't about Iris."

"You keep telling yourself that." Rekir smiled and decided it was time to be gracious. "Look, if you want, I'll put a bug in Zero's ear to make sure he stays close. He'll be available in emergencies. Is that good enough?"

"I guess," Alia said unhappily, but both reploids knew she couldn't ask for much more. "And in return I won't tell anyone about your little hazing thing."

"What a bargain," Rekir said with a roll of his eyes. "Anything else I can do for you?"

The corner of Alia's mouth twitched. "You can apologize to that rookie."

Rekir laughed. "I'll think about it."

Alia stood. "We'll chat again later."

As she was going out the door, Double was coming in. The rotund, yellow-plated rookie headed straight for the rack of e-tanks and made to pick one up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Rekir warned him. Double turned, startled. Rekir counted off a few seconds to ensure Alia was out of hearing, then said, "Clearly, you've never heard of… the Cursed E-tank."

I don't deserve this.

General had that thought a lot.

He didn't say it more than once—the reaction he got the first time convinced him it wasn't considered appropriate. The thought recurred to him, though.

I don't deserve this.

"Yes, ma'am," was what he said. Ahead of him was Ms. Gerry, a small, graying woman with all the warmth and approachability of a naked dagger. The contrast between General and Gerry was almost absurd. It made the power relationship between them seem equally absurd.

It reminded General of himself. His head, and the standard reploid brain within, was comically small compared to his oversized body. The control element was much smaller than the physical element, just as Gerry was smaller than General. Yet the one drove the other.

That was how it should be. General couldn't do Gerry's job. He barely knew his own job. But, when his job was also his name, what else could he do? He was General, so he had to be General, however ill-suited he might be.

"Your command is waiting for you," she went on. "You'll be taking charge of them shortly. They're organized on the field ahead. Just greet them, recite the speech we've given you, and we'll move on."

"Yes, ma'am," General said.

"You'll have time later to get to know them. This first introduction is ceremonial. Colonel looked up the procedures for it—he'll be your second-in-command."

"Why couldn't he be the commander?" General asked.

"For reasons we'll discuss later," said Gerry shortly. Her tone was one General recognized as a warning. No more questions like that. Frustrating, but what could he do?

"I understand," General said. Gerry turned to talk to an aide, and when General also stopped, she waved him on. Apparently she didn't think this ceremony was as important for her as it was for him.

More unsettled than ever, General complied. The back of a bandstand was ahead of him, with a staircase to the side; a lower-ranking Repliforce soldier was gesturing to it. General took the stairs, three at a time, and watched his feet all along to keep from falling off.

The side effect of this was that the first time he really noticed his soldiers was when he was standing on the stage, looking out at them all. It hit him all at once—overwhelmed him. He stalled out beneath their collective gaze.

Dozens—hundreds?—maybe more—looked up at him while standing at attention. Even the non-humanoid models—feraloids, General dimly remembered—were doing their level best to show proper respect. Colonel was standing in front of the stage; cued by General's appearance, he bellowed, "Hand… sa-LUTE!"

There was a single, large blast of sound, like a cannon firing, as all of those hands snapped into salutes. Colonel turned in precise, measured motions. He gave General a flourish and salute of his own with an unlit beam saber. "Repliforce ready for inspection General SIR!"

I don't deserve this.

"Carry on," General ordered.

Colonel cut his salute, turned about just as precisely as before. "Rea-dyyyy… TO!" Cannon blast. "Pa-raaaade… REST!" A thousand feet stamped once.

General forced himself over to the podium. He tried to call up the speech he'd been given. It didn't come. As he looked out over Repliforce, he saw devotion. He saw loyalty. He saw obedience. He saw honor. He saw pride.

I don't deserve this.

"Soldiers of Repliforce," he said, leaping into the unknown, "I could not be more impressed by all of you. I am humbled by the opportunity to be your General. To lead you is a privilege. I will do everything I can to help you, to keep you alive, to… help us cover ourselves in honor and glory.

"I'll be meeting with all of you eventually. For now, I can see your quality, your determination, even from here.

"The power we have as an army is awesome, and our responsibilities are equally awesome. It will take the strongest fighting force on Earth to eradicate Maverickism- but that's what we are, and that is our charge. I will do my utmost; I expect all of you to do the same. I know you won't disappoint me. Together we can meet any challenge, for we… are… Repliforce!"

Several soldiers cheered spontaneously, and soon they all broke out into clapping. Technically it was a breakdown of discipline, but General wasn't about to punish anyone for applauding him. He stole a glance at Colonel. His subordinate was nodding approvingly. It made General smile.

And, also, feel like a pretender. Who was he, to have the respect and dedication of all these worthy reploids? He didn't deserve it.

Well, his speech was the truth. He'd do right by them. He swore it.

He was out of words (why was a newbuilt giving speeches, anyway? Even if he was their undeserving commander), so even though it had been bare seconds since he'd ascended the stage, it was time to go. "Dismissed," he said. He walked off the stage. Behind him, Colonel was shouting, "Repliforce, a-teeeeen… HUT! Fall out!" Good for him, thought General. He liked Colonel already. He wanted to meet him as soon as possible.

Gerry was just finishing with her aide as General approached. "Everything go well?" she said briskly.

"Yes," General said, and, feeling cautious, left it at that.

"Good," said Gerry; General was relieved to realize she wasn't actually interested. "We have more important things to worry about. Namely, a budget meeting at the Abel City legislative offices. Remember, money makes the world go 'round… Don't just stand there, come with me."

General sighed. I definitely don't deserve this.

But orders were orders. He followed.

"You've seen the range of motion on the cameras. You know they don't turn enough to look up here."

"I thought they just… don't."

"Look over here. You can see there's a post in the way. The way the camera's mounted keeps it from looking back to the roof."

"You're right. But can't they hear… oh! That's right. They don't have audio. Those receivers are separate."

"Exactly. No one can see or hear us up here."

Iris smiled. "Thank you for finding this, Zero."

That smile. Seeing it did something strange to Zero. At first he thought it was the novelty of it. There usually wasn't much smiling in the Maverick Hunters. X smiled sometimes, but that was… different. Everything about X was singular. The first few times Iris smiled at Zero, the first few times he felt this sensation, he thought it was just because it was unusual.

But it wasn't. If it was a novelty thing, that would have worn off. Instead, it seemed to get stronger with each exposure. The smile was more effective the more often she used it.

Effective at what, Zero wasn't sure. But something. Something new and strange and frightening and wonderful.

The smile was all the more remarkable for the frame it was attached to. Iris was seemingly designed to be vulnerable: undersized, with a blue-and-red exterior no one would confuse for armor and a long streamer of brown robot hair. Yet, somehow, this puny creature could see into Zero well enough to trigger his survival instincts.

He couldn't stand it after a moment and looked away. There was a lot to see up on the roof of Hunter Base. Plenty of excuses. "This used to be Cain Labs," he said, tapping his foot on the roof so Iris knew what he meant. "It used to be well outside Abel City, but that was three wars ago. The city has grown since then."

"I can see that," Iris said. She pointed to the cranes and scaffolding before them, and the buildings that were rising a stone's throw away.

"Closer to Hunter Base is safer," Zero agreed. "Something about insurance—X explained it to me once…"

He stopped speaking when he saw Iris wince. He silently chided himself. At times it seemed like half of what he said referenced X, and it had begun to wear on Iris. Zero was his own person, wasn't he?

He wouldn't have known it bothered her until she told him; he couldn't tell such things on his own. But she had told him, and now, against all odds, that mattered to him.

"I mean… after the First War, when we turned Cain Labs into Hunter Base, everyone wanted to be close by," Zero amended. "Especially when Maverickism lived on after the First War was over."

"Why'd you have to turn Cain Labs into Hunter Base? Didn't you have a base before the First War?"

"Sigma slagged it."

"Oh."

"No one knows the Hunters' vulnerabilities better than a Hunter," Zero said. "Especially a commander of Hunters. Sigma's first blow was to destroy the old Maverick Hunter HQ and kill everyone inside."

"Including the Operators?"

"Especially the Operators. He wanted to break our command-and-control. It made wiping out the Hunters in the field easier. A few of the field Hunters got away, but none of the Operators did."

Iris' gaze had slipped down. Zero didn't know why. She noticed—Zero could almost see the moment her power picked up on his confusion. "I'm an Operator," she said. "I would have died that day."

That helped. It was a relief to have someone who knew he couldn't read emotions, and knew when she needed to explain herself. Most people didn't, leaving Zero in a state of perpetual muddle. It wasn't his fault he had no empathy, any more than it was Iris' fault her empathy was cranked so high it handicapped her. It was just how they were built.

In that, at least, they were alike.

"That's the closest we ever came to losing," Zero said. "We almost lost the First War. We were all but wiped out in the first hour. Even I died that time."

"You… died?"

Zero nodded.

"You don't look dead."

"I can't really explain it."

"You mean you don't want to explain it."

Zero's mouth tightened.

"Sorry. I was too direct again." She did seem sorry, not that Zero knew the difference.

"It's all tied up with the end of the Second War," Zero said. "A lot of that story was redacted. I don't want to risk telling you something you're not supposed to know."

"That's never stopped you before," Iris pointed out. "But it's okay. Even if that's not the reason, I know you have one. I'm sure it's a good reason, so I won't ask."

Zero's mouth gaped open as he tried to keep up with her. "And you still trust me?"

"You gave me one of your sabers," she said.

She didn't need to say anything more. With her abilities, she knew how hard—how meaningful—that gift had been for Zero. Zero was feeling that feeling again, and she wasn't even smiling.

Only one thing could make it better. "Do we have time for another lesson?" he asked.

"I think so," she replied.

When Zero spoke again, it was with confidence and authority—finally the conversation had gotten to his favorite subject. "Draw-strike."

He watched as she tried to act natural. She slipped into a neutral posture. Then, with a few jerky, amateurish motions, the saber was in her hand, and she was lunging in a broad slice.

She wasn't built for combat, of course, but the Z-saber and a little training would be enough to make her a mortal threat to all but the most powerful Mavericks. Zero replayed her motions in his head. "Good. This time, more like this—" he demonstrated for her. "We'll try it five more times. This will be your most important technique, because it lets you go for a lethal attack before the enemy knows he's in danger. Like this…"

She nodded eagerly. She knew—she could feel—how hard he was trying.

Trying to ensure she didn't die.

It was as much as he could make himself care about another person, especially another person who couldn't really help Zero survive. That was how she knew the depth of his sincerity: that Zero, who could barely bring himself to care about anyone else, wanted her to live.

That, alone, made life worth living.

She swung with everything she was worth.

Next time: Hidden in Plain Sight