It's just a stupid hunch, Zero thought, now alone in his private quarters. He pulled off his helmet, giving his head a few shakes that spilled his long, flaxen hair out of its standard ponytail into shiny, straight locks that covered his entire back. The gesture always loosened the tension of a hard day's work, and signalled an end of his duty to all who knew him.
But Zero had few callers, as only the Hunter elite could identify with the tribulations of his everyday life, and fewer of those could he call true equals. They tended to be a snobbish lot, full of hot air and blowing it out whenever possible, and although they showed no apparent dislike for Zero, they never truly accepted the outsider amongst their ranks.
So, in the evenings, Zero, reserved and aloof, would keep mostly to himself, busying his mind with quiet pursuits such as reading. But on this evening, he was much too preoccupied for that.
He sank heavily into the simple, spongy armchair placed in each Hunter's room. Unlike humans, Reploids didn't need comfort to maintain good health, but rather regarded it as a humanizing amenity when they didn't need a full recharging in their stasis chambers. Although at this point, in his exhaustion, his thoughts turned to powering down.
No, not yet, not before he decided how to handle the matter of Sigma. Founded on one day's events, he knew his concerns would launch no investigation or background check on Sigma by Maverick Hunter. Rather than get himself embroiled in the bitter complaint process and have to deal with the backlash, he decided simply to sidebar his suspicions about Sigma, and "sleep" with his sword at the ready.
Besides, he wouldn't want to risk being wrong about Sigma entirely. But his intuition was rarely wrong, and, being largely of the pessimistic nature, this was much to his chagrin.
Oh well. He flicked off the lamp for the night.
