Omega was feeling emotionless today.

As he stared down at the dead man next to him, he found himself thinking.

What's the point of life if you can't die?

The man beside him had met his end at the hands of Omega just a few minutes earlier, finding out firsthand that it was a mistake to rob the highest-ranked Raven on earth as his neck was brutally snapped in two.

Why did you try to rob me anyways? I know I'm a marked man, but I couldn't have looked like an attractive target.

Omega stood up, his dark blue hair sticking to his forehead from the rain. His blue sweatshirt, and blue pants, which were in rather poor condition from being worn too many times, clung to his solid frame due to being soaked. Blood spattered the arms of his shirt, and some had gotten on his knees. The Raven gathered the robber's corpse into his arm, and walked down the alleyway.

This dumpster is a fitting place.

He kicked the dumpster open and effortlessly heaved the corpse into it, leaving the lid open for anyone who wandered by to open the lid and find the dead man inside. As the blue haired man walked out of the alley, he jammed his hands into his pocket and watched all the people rushing by, some looking at him strangly due to the bloodstains on his shirt.

All of them hurrying to get pointless things done before their pointless lives come to an end. It's quite pathetic. Yet sometimes I wish I were inclined to hurry... and get those pointless things done.

The brief stab of regret overwhelmed Omega's normally numb mind, and he dropped to his knees, holding his head. Even more people stared at him, yet nobody stopped to help him. The number-one Raven managed to recover his dignity and get up a short while later, and began the long walk back to his home.

----------------------

Home, as it happened, was a dingy little shack on the outside of town. Although he was one of the richest, most powerful, and most influential men on earth, he felt no inclination to move to better quarters.

It's better to find fufuillment in poverty than to have everything and feel as if your life is empty, hollow... without a purpose.

Another stab of regret caused him to keel over once again, and he fought hard to keep the tears from coming out.

I must be losing control... I've never felt this much emotion before.

The raven dragged himself over to his pathetic excuse for a bed, and plopped down in it, laying out and stretching his arms behind his head.

No TV, no Radio, minimal Electricity, no Water, none of the modern conviences that people had grown so used to. Anyone would wonder why the Number-One raven lived in such squalor. Even if they figured that he was a Miser, they would still ask; "How does he occupy himself in his spare time?"

I sit. And I think. I ponder, I reflect. I do many things that normal people don't do nearly enough of. And I'm perfectly fine.

Fine was a relative definition. Most would consider him either insane or as some sort of monster for being able to commit a cold-blooded murder and walk away with only a brief stab of guilt.

Most have not had to go through the things that I have. Most wouldn't even live to tell the tale.

If they heard his thoughts, many would indeed consider Omega insane. The raven spent almost all his time as a prisoner of his own thoughts, and was generally completley devoid of emotion.

Emotion can be bad. It makes people lose control... act irrationally. However, emotion can be good. It can let people be joyful, happy, inspire them to do great deeds. However, I would rather have no emotion. That way I can decide what needs to be done, and not have any inhibitions towards achieving my goal.

Upon hearing this, most people would immediatley sign him off to a hospital that treated the mentally ill, but most likely to those special places where they keep the insane people. And not passive insane either. The kind of insane people that would go out and beat a dozen people to death with a steel dildo while dressed in a bugs bunny suit.

I am not insane. I am perfectly in control of my actions. I appraise the situation, see what needs to be done, and I do it. No rest, no mercy. No matter what.

Many would dismiss Omega as a homicidal maniac who was obsessed with vengeance. But in the typical optomistic mood of most of the populace, he would be better with some treatment and medication.

I am as I always will be.

----------------------

The program was impaitent. As impaitent as a program could get. Despite all its efforts, it could see the great destruction unfolding once again, the paltry surface developments it had made for humanity collapsing once again under the weight of nuclear warfare, and humankind being forced underground again. The program once again tried something that it had tried idilly over the years.

Nest.exe execute.

ERROR: Nest.exe is not responding.

The computer terminated the sequence, then turned its "thoughts" to more productive connect.

Connecting...

Connecting...

Connection established. The program checked over its latest project. Everything appeared to be in order.

Disorder.exe execute.

ERROR: File could not be found.

Even though the program could undoubtedly browse though the many files avalible at it's "fingertips," it chose not to do so. Hurrying the process would only mean failure. The program needed to take its time... make sure that everything was laid out properly. Only with paitence could come success. It had once tried to hurry things long ago, only to have its agenda viciously hurled back in its face when the Raven Hustler Two had used the AC known only as Eight Ball to brutally smash its attempt to prevent the second destruction that it was certain was coming.

The program's plans were thwarted, and the "Second destruction" never came to pass.

However, it could see things were starting to crumble again. Leos Klien, Crest, Mirage, Kisaragi, Nerves Concord, Global Cortex, Emeraude, Zio Matrix, Balena, the Disorder Units. All that it had worked for over the past 20 years could be lost in a matter of days. The program couldn't let that happen. It needed to remove them from the equation.

There was another warrior that had threatened its equation 20 years ago, but someone else had taken care of that one. The other warrior was impossible to kill at the moment, but the program knew that it only needed to be paitent and an opportunity would present itself.

Both warriors were still alive today, and the program's equation no longer had a variable with their names on it.

You may not go by the name of Hustler Two anymore... but I will find you... and kill you... Norman Smith.

The program went back into standby, waiting for its chance to arrive.

Author Notes: Ho Hum. Another day another update. Chapter 5 is done but I'm not posting that until tomorrow. Chapter 8 is in the works, and hopefully I can get it at least half done by the end of tonight. Yes, I will work on 6 and 7, but I need my friend's help, and he's staying the night at a friend's, so I wont get to talk to him until as late as the day after tomorrow.

Who's Hustler Two? Who's Norman Smith? And when is the invasion of Zamda base going to commence? Guess you're going to have to wait to find out! (Smiles)

Here's some humor for you. It hit me out of nowhere earlier today, so I figured I'd go ahead and post it.

Me: With my new action markers, I can actually do stuff without confusing the readers now!

Omega: What's the point of having action markers if you don't use them?

Me: (Grabs a glass of water) There, happy?

Omega: I see. So do a pointless thing with the pointless action markers.

Me: Well, it's not exactly pointless. If I don't drink something I'll get thirsty.

Omega: What's the point of drinking? You'll just get thirsty again.

Me: Well, I don't want to die from dehydration.

Omega: What's the point of dying? You'll only-- Wait a second... ARGH! I've been tricked!