Disclaimer: This work of mine is a fan fiction writing based primarily on the anime, Avenger, with elements from the manga, .hackLegend of the Twilight. Credit and ownership for most of the characters and scenes belong to Ban Yukiko and his crew, and Rei Izumi and her crew. This fan fiction will be taken down upon the request of the artists or of the host. Any and all incidents or characters portrayed in the story is purely coincidental to other works, fiction or non-fiction, and unrelated to any persons living or dead. . . though I doubt you can find any person on the surface of Mars just yet.

Primary Author's Notes:

Because of the nature of this story, there will be spoilers to both series. Any reader who does not wish to be privy to these spoilers is requested to turn back at this point; disregard of this request will act as a waiver to all rights of complaint of said reader. In the course of the story, there might be points that lead to confusion among the readers. Any and all such points are either addressed in the Ending Author's Notes, or will be addressed in subsequent chapters if a reader addresses them through the reviews. (Please, I'm not a mind reader. . .yet.) With that aside I hope you enjoy the story.

Chapter 1: Loneliness

Purple eyes opened to the sound of a howling desert wind. A pale, jointed arm reached out and a hand gripped the grains of sand beneath it. The red soil of Mars gave way easily to the pressure, crumbling into dust or falling between the fingers like water through a sieve. Fine particles floated away in the wind.

The torso of a chilled, dressed in a white gown that could have passed for a nightgown, sat up. The eyes saw through the red haze and stared up at an equally red moon. Through the crack of the tube, the light sifted down, splaying colors inside and unto the occupant's skin. Pale yellow hair drifted down to settle against shoulders the color of newly born babies' flesh. The hands left their position on either side of the figure and rose up towards her face, palms upward in a gesture like that of supplication, yet the child was looking down as if judging her own hands. A voice as soft as the breeze came forth from her lips; lips so light in tone, they could have been from a dead being. Yet the voice asked a question that proved its owner was alive – or at least in a state very similar to that of life.

"I'm . . .awake?"

Tentatively, she reached out with her right hand pressed against the ceiling of the tube. The same ceiling that had two major holes and several cracks along it. As soon as she applied pressure, the ceiling cracked like an eggshell. Several pieces fell upon her, but she didn't mind the rusted pieces of metal.

As the ceiling slid to the side, she stood up in the small, meter-wide diameter of the tube. Restraints that should have held her down withered away; she took notice of it as well as the tube, which was now falling apart, and wondered.

The answer, corrosion, came to her in a flash. Unfortunately, it paved the way for millions of other answers to pour forth like a flood.

She fell to her knees in the tube, overwhelmed with the sudden outpouring of memory and knowledge. She held her hands to the sides of her head and gasped for breath. For several long minutes, she sat there, still except for her shallower breathing, and took in the thoughts that had been stored in her mind, which was now forced to reboot and process her entire past. . .

Images ran through her mind; a girl with crimson eyes and skin as brown as almonds; another with red hair and clothed in robes; a scantily clad young woman with silver hair and a collar round her neck; and another fair-haired belle carrying a small animal. Finally, the images that she had unknowingly been dreading came and a sob wrenched its way out of her throat, while her non-existent heart felt like it was being squeezed to death. These personas, or rather memories, of a young boy with eyes and hair of aquamarine green, and a young lady with pale violet hair who shared the same eyes as the boy.

With the memories that came crowding into her mind, the girl lying in the shell of what must have been the cylindrical shape of a life-support tube, lifted her head and all but howled into the red sky of Mars; her cries of despair resounding in the empty valley like a banshee's mournful wail. It was only because of their mechanical nature that her eyes shed no tears even as the sobs wracked her body.

Gradually her cries subsided into nothingness, her grief becoming less open, though it was still there. Her eyes, now almost blank, continued to stare down at her hands as they were planted upon the red sand collecting in the innards of the tube. So she would have remained, perhaps for all eternity if new sounds hadn't made themselves known to her.

"I know it came from here."

"Where?"

"Here. Somewhere."

"Oh yeah, that's helpful. Why not just say "Here on Mars" while you're at it?"

"Ah, just sod it! I know you heard it too so I'm not – Hey! Hey! There's a doll in here!"

The child, or doll as the newcomers called her, turned her head in the direction of the sounds, through the large gap in the canopy of the tube. She found herself looking at a human female with marigold hair and blue eyes. She was dressed in a tunic, with tight shorts beneath. A whip was fastened at her left, a belt of ammunition on the other side. She was a bit striking, with her hair in a ponytail, but her beauty was marred by the greedy sneer that was slicing across her face.

"Hey Poro, look at the doll I found. You think we can pawn her off or something?"

"Doll? Lem'me see!"

Another head appeared, this time belonging to a man. Raven hair that was cut to a close crop, brown eyes that slanted at the corners, and a wiry frame that wasn't hidden by the old, dented armor he was wearing; the man looked like an adventurer with his female thief.

"I bet we can sell it in Volk City", said his partner. "Come on!"

With those words the woman leapt into the tube and grabbed hold of the girl's shoulders. The child's eyes widened as she became conscious of the plans her new captors had for her. They wanted to take her away. They wanted to take her away. They wanted to take her. . .

And she did not want to be taken at the moment.

She suddenly pushed against the lady with her small arms. Not expecting such an action, the woman gasped and let loose her grip, falling backwards and hitting her head on the inside of the tube with an audible curse.

"Celia! Why you miscreant little doll!"

The man called Poro followed his partner down into the tube, landing on his feet. Warily, he edged closer to the child who was now getting to her feet. Behind him, Celia also stood up, rubbing her head. She glowered at the doll and moved to Poro's side.

The girl frowned. Just who did these idiots think they were? She lifted a hand and concentrated in thought. In her mind's eye, the metal underneath Celia and Poro's feet wound themselves into strips that would hold her would-be captors down.

Nothing happened.

She frowned and concentrated harder, eyes straining. When the lack of change continued to persist, she realized the truth that was accompanied by no small degree of shock.

"My powers. . . aren't here!"

While she was thinking this, the duo before her was looking at her as if she was a lunatic. The man raised an eyebrow questioningly at his companion. She in turn just shrugged. They decided to worry about the strange behavior later and moved forward to take hold of the girl.

The pair of arms coming at her forced the child out of her reverie. She stepped back against the opposite wall of the tube and felt it give way. A moment later, she was tumbling along the red surface, the fine, crimson powder coloring her white gown and getting into her hair.

She stopped herself by slapping her hand, palm down, into the ground, and dragged herself up to her elbows. The scraping sound of sand being kicked up told he that her hopeful subjugators were following; a glance confirmed this.

The man jumped as if to tackle her and she rapidly crawled backwards to avoid him. Her right hand found a fistful of sand and threw it at his face. Poro clutched at his eyes, shouting profanities at the top of his voice. The girl smirked at her handiwork and got up only to be snapped around when a whip found its way around her, pinning her arms to her body.

"You're a troublesome one, aren't you?" Celia acidly commented, coming up and holding the handle of the whip with enough tension so that the child could not get away. "You may be broken, but you're parts may still fetch a price."

"Let me go." the girl demanded.

"Like we would." Poro said, striding towards the girl while still rubbing sand out of his eyes. "You think we'd just let you go after all the trouble you gave us?"

"Idiot." was the condescending reply to his rhetorical question.

The man's brown eyes glazed over in anger and he struck out without thinking. A backhand caught the girl across the face, and she felt her head snap to one side, despite the fact that she could not feel the pain, only the pressure.

"Stop that!" Celia screamed. "We won't get any money if you keep breaking it."

"Che! I'm beginning to think it wasn't worth it. Come on, brat!"

"My name is Zephyr Hewick, not 'brat'. Don't forget it, oaf."

Poro made for another swing again, but Celia grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"If you break that doll and waste it all, I'll personally make you a eunuch. Understood?"

He muttered in reply, but didn't hit the girl again. With utter disregard for her comfort, Poro picked the child up and carried her slung over his shoulder. He and Celia made their way to the top of a hill, where a trail was clear and a jeep was parked. There, Poro replaced the whip that had bound her with metal cuffs and a chain, before dumping her on the backseat.

He was taken aback by the glare the girl gave him.

"Let's go, Poro."

Muttering to himself, the man got into the driver's seat while Celia sat on the passenger side.

The girl looked at the cuffs that bound her legs and arms, then at the chain around her neck. She tested them, once, twice, but they held firm. She sat back and leaned into the uncomfortable edge of the jeep in resignation. The thought that crossed her mind then, as her tiny body was repeatedly bumped into the side of the car and the wind blew her flaxen hair around, was the only thing that somewhat cheered her up.

"Those two will die for this."

Ending Author's Notes:

This story is paced chronologically, so I apologize for the lack of any of the Avenger cast in this chapter. It was needed, otherwise I would have had to create a flashback chapter for "Zephyr Hewick", or leave it unsolved, which is something I would never do to any of my stories. Leaving a character's history undiscovered is one of the ways a story can prick me the wrong way, and I don't want that. As for why I refer to her by that name, readers of the manga ".hackLegend of the Twilight" will know who she is, but those who only watched the anime won't have a clue. There are three reasons why I chose "Hewick" instead of the more popular "Hyuek"; first, 'Hewick' is a true western (Anglo, I think) name that would make more sense connected to "Zephyr", which is a Greek name. Secondly, it's a matter of taste; with names like "Layla", "Nei", and for goodness sake, "Speedy" around, I didn't want another awkward name. As for why I gave her that surname in the first place, it's a tribute, both to the interconnecting .hack stories, and to her grandfather (again, only the people who know .hack will get this, but don't worry, it's not important to this story).

To make up for this lack of the main cast, I'm posting the second chapter at the same because that's where the real story begins, and where the primary character makes his appearance. (Strange to leave the primary character until the second chapter, huh?)

And so ends the first chapter to my first fan fiction based on the Avenger series. This is more of a trial work for me than a dedicated story, though I take it more seriously than a one-shot. It also serves as my pillow, since I have been falling on the hard walls of writer's block for most of my other stories. And, it's also my first successful transition of a story that was first written on paper. It was easier to write when inspiration struck, rather than have to wait until I could get to a computer. Reviews and flames are appreciated as long as they actually say something I can use to make my writing better.