Jambalaya resembled a tall black woman. Without her armor, her hair was violently curly and cropped tight to her skull. Her features were regular, handsome but not beautiful, and her body was nearly asexual in design, without womanly curves. Her eyes were a vibrant, unnatural purple, but that was the only obvious sign of her true nature. Although the way she walked and moved would betray her to any practiced observer.

In her armor, she was a killing machine, as she had been designed to be. But her joy in combat was tempered with compassion, a sadness for what she had to do. Much as X did, some part of her mourned all the Mavericks she had seen to their graves. Not because they didn't deserve it, but because of all the potential that was lost. All the glory that they could have… should have had, if it hadn't been for Sigma.

But right now, Jambalaya's thoughts were far from the battlefield. She was wearing her armor, in all its gaudy glory. Her armor was a particularly vile shade of green. More than one rookie had stopped to stare, overcome by the horrific color, and Zero had once said that when he'd first saw her, he'd learned what a hangover looked like. Jambalaya didn't particularly mind. The color at least ensured that no one on her side would accidentally shoot her on the battlefield. Well, not unless there was too much smoke. Or dust. Or flames. Still, puke green was worth a go, and her armor was also dappled with copper and set with crystals of a virulent pink. 'Unmistakeable' was the kindest description for it.

Just to make the whole thing even more nauseating, Jambalaya had considered getting a green and pink tattoo across her face. She'd finally decided against it because of the possible crimp to her love life. Which wasn't that active, but she could occasionally lure an unwary male to her bed. Her tastes were notorious across the HQ, but having to look at that tattoo during certain events would be less than sexy.

And speaking of love lives… Jambalaya casually flipped through the printouts she'd made of the photographs her sister, Jasmine, had sent her. Some of the pictures were innocent, like one of the two girls at the mall. Jambalaya carefully examined her sister's partner. She hadn't seen the girl in years.

Ophelia was as unlike her Shakespearian namesake in appearance as it was possible to be. She had been designed to resemble a petite little Chinese girl with lustrous black hair. In the past, it had been long and styled with many ribbons and pins. Now, it was cut short into a cute little ruff. She was what Jambalaya liked to call a pocket Venus… so tiny and so incredibly lovely. Her features were as delicate as a china dolls, her eyes were a deep, glorious blue and her body was flawless. Far more beautiful than Jasmine, in truth, but she had been designed for beauty.

Jambalaya frowned as she thought about Ophelia's pathetic little story. Creating Reploids to be sex slaves was illegal. But just last week the FBI had busted a ring that traded in human slaves… the people in the ring had referred to them as 'servants', a cute little euphemism… so Reploids were hardly immune. The chaos the Mavericks had wreaked made getting past the laws even easier, unfortunately.

Ophelia had been a Reploid sex slave. However, as such things went, her life had been almost idyllic. She had been created to serve as a concubine to a very wealthy businessman with some unusual kinks. Mostly a fetish for rape, but not real rape. He liked play acting games, which Jambalaya had no issue with… she rather liked them herself. And Ophelia had enjoyed being his mistress, living in a beautiful house, wearing beautiful jewelry, and amusing herself among his things between rather interesting sex.

But the danger of what he had done had been brought home to her in a single, brutal day. He had died of a massive coronary, and that had left Ophelia's status in a perilous limbo. She had no actual contract, but she was almost ten years old, and any contract should have run out long since. So his estate had decided to regard her as a free agent, an employee, ignoring the fact that she had never been paid in her life. Suddenly she was out on the streets, allowed to take only a single suitcase of clothes and none of her jewelry. Poor, naïve little Ophelia had never left the mansion except on his arm, and he hadn't wanted her to be independent. The mansion had no TV. Everything she knew about the world could be written on the head of a pin and it was a big, frightening world.

But when she had sat down on a park bench and wept, Jasmine had noticed and tried to comfort her. Poor, naïve little Jasmine who had recently told their mutual creator where, exactly, he could shove his laser scalpel. Jasmine, who only thought she knew all about the world, and needy little Ophelia, willing to follow anyone. It had been a recipe for disaster, and disaster had come of it.

Jambalaya leafed through the more explicit pictures, and her lips twitched in a faint smile. They weren't the sort of thing to interest her, but if Zero was like 90 percent of the straight male population, he'd be interested. Lesbian porn was always a big thing. Jambalaya was a little amazed by some of the shots, though. The girls were nubile, enthusiastic and shameless. And they wanted to meet Zero after she gave him these pictures. Jambalaya idly wondered if he'd survive.

She knocked on his door, knowing that Zero was still home. Even a pissed off Zero took a bit of time to arrange things, especially since he was making some notes for her on his duties before he went. Jambalaya was grateful for that. She'd been assisting Zero for a year, but suddenly getting jumped to unit commander was quite a shock.

"Come in," Zero's voice came through the door, and she took the invitation, stepping inside. He looked up from his desk with a weary smile. "Oh, hi Jambalaya. I'm almost done the cheat sheets." He grinned, amused at the term. She smiled back, but shook her head.

"That's not what I'm here for, sir. I was wondering if you'd decided where you were going?"

"Well, no," Zero said with a hint of suspicion. Jambalaya only smiled at him. "Alright! What do you have in mind?"

"A little side trip to Seattle," she said pleasantly. "To visit my sister. She wants me to give you these." Zero took the pictures, slightly interested, and leafed through them.

"They're cute, Jamby, but I don't… ah." Zero's eyes widened as he reached the more interesting shots. "I… see." He lifted one picture up, turning it on its side to get a better look. Jambalaya stifled a grin… she knew the one he was looking at. "Uh, are they offering…?"

"I told her you would ask that," Jambalaya said, amused. "So basically… yes, they are."

"Oh." Zero looked at the pictures for a long moment… then grinned. Why shouldn't he, really? He had a lot of time to waste. "Sure, I'll check out Seattle. Where are they staying?"

"I wrote down the address on the back of the pictures." Jambalaya smiled, amused. "Have fun, sir!" She snapped off a crisp salute, then went off on her way.

At least she had managed to cheer Zero up a little.

"There," Jasmine said, businesslike, to the Reploid she had just finished repairing. "Try not to get sliced up like that again." His armor gleamed where she had just finished touching up his paint job, which was red and deep grey with green jewels.

"I don't do it on purpose, hun." He grinned, attempting to grope her, but desisted when she smacked away his hands. "Aw, you don't love me?"

"I don't love your hands," Jasmine replied, putting her tools away. "Go on, shoo. Hawk will be expecting his favorite boy back."

"You manage to make that sound so dirty." He stood, shaking out his hair. It was a long, glorious fall of black, in the same style as Zero's. That style had grown more popular with Zero's popularity, although it looked best on Reploids. A lot of humans just looked messy, when they tried to cultivate it. "See you later, Jaz."

"See you later, Donnie." She said with a slightly sad smile, as he walked out. She liked him. He was always nice, and if his hands were a little fresh, he took her rejections cheerfully. For that matter, Hawk was quite nice when you got to know him. None of the people she served were personally unpleasant, bar one.

Unfortunately, that one was the one who owned her and Ophelia, in fact if not legally. Hawk was pleasant enough, but he didn't particularly care about their situation. Donnie didn't care either. None of them cared… and if she and Ophelia tried to get out of their situation, they would be put forcefully back into line. On the other hand, the terms of the contract would be strictly enforced both ways. If only she and Ophelia could somehow manage to get the money…

Jasmine checked her messages, and beamed as she heard Jambalaya's voice on her answering machine.

"Ophelia! Zero's going to come by! Isn't that great?" There was a squeal from the back.

"Wonderful! Do we have everything we need?" They had gotten a few supplies for their ideas. Some of the supplies were quite kinky, although the rest were anything but. Those supplies were part of the reason she liked Donnie, Hawk and the others… they didn't care, but they were willing to do some trade on the side. Some of it was even free.

"We've got everything," Jasmine said with a grin. "And it's all put together! Even if it doesn't look that great." She added, a little worried. While technically, the aesthetics might not matter, they would when it came to convincing Zero.

"Don't worry about it, Jaz." Ophelia came into the room, holding a tray of sandwiches, and two steaming bowls of soup. She was wearing scuffed jeans and a t-shirt that had stained so thoroughly, not even bleach could have taken everything out. She still looked scrumptious enough to turn any man's head. "Cosmetics aren't that important, when you get down to it. Getting it to work is the ticket." She set down the tray, and neatly distributed the sandwiches.

"It will that, if the rest of the plan works," Jasmine said with a sigh, picking up her spoon and trying the soup. It was chicken noodle, her favorite, and she sipped it appreciatively. "But for that, we need Zero."

"No arguments here." Ophelia nibbled on a sandwich, and smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Jaz? Do we have any more work for tonight?"

"No, that was it. What do you have in mind?" Jasmine asked curiously. They had no money, so she wasn't sure what Ophelia could be thinking of doing. But her friend had an idea.

"I was thinking we could take some of that old bread and go feed the ducks down by Briar Mill?" Ophelia looked wistful as she thought about it. "They're so, so cute, just like the ones in the meditation pond back at my first home." She had always enjoyed feeding the ducks, especially the little baby ducks. Jasmine smiled, and reached over to take her hand.

"That would be wonderful." The two girls stared into each other's eyes for a moment, a very loving moment. Despite everything they had gone through, they loved each other. Hopefully, that would be enough to see them through the troubles they were suffering. That, and some careful planning revolving around a certain person…

Zero walked through the streets of Seattle, completely ignored and enjoying it. He was out of his armor, traveling around incognito. He'd never thought he would have been grateful for the wannabe fashion in long hair, but it let him go unnoticed in the crowds. His jeans and t-shirt also blended right in. No one guessed that he was actually the world famous Hunter.

Eventually, after three different buses, some walking, and a fair amount of silent cursing over how impossible it was to teleport in the city, he reached the address Jambalaya had given him.

"This is it?" He eyed the building dubiously. It was a former warehouse. But, from certain signs, he could tell it had been refurnished into living quarters. Not an easy thing to do and it required a great deal of flexibility for the tenants, since they had to share a lot of things… like the showers. But in a city that had been hit hard with refugees from other places, people were often willing to tolerate the inconvenience. Especially Reploids, many of whom had lived in dormitories for their formative years. Still, it was a little unexpected.

Zero shrugged, and walked up to the door. There was an intercom, and he buzzed the correct apartment. It was the only apartment on the second floor.

"Hello?" A soft, sweet feminine voice come over the speaker.

"Hi, this is Zero. You were expecting me?" Zero said with a grin.

"Oh, of course… come right up!" The door buzzed open, and Zero walked in confidently. There was a stair leading to the second floor, and he walked up it to find, to his surprise, that most of it hadn't been partitioned off. It seemed like half the second floor was still being used as a warehouse, while the rest was a workroom and living area. There were some rooms in the living area, but it was all very open in style.

"Hello!" Zero smiled as the girl with the red-gold hair came out to greet him. Her smile and vitality were quite enchanting. "I'm Jasmine. Ophelia's in the kitchen… would you like anything to drink? Eat?" She knew he had likely made a long trip.

"Some coffee would be nice, if you have some." Zero said politely. "And is there some place I can put my bags?"

"Right over here." Jasmine said with another stunning smile.

Soon, Zero was introduced to Ophelia and got to know the girls. He was enchanted by their obvious enthusiasm for life and youthful vitality. There was nothing old or jaded about them. They were bright and young and happy, and more than willing to have fun… as he found out after supper.

It was a wonderful night.