A/N: About time eh? Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I know I started this fic almost a year ago and haven't touched it. Between Broken and reality I hadn't the time at all. I had a really hard time planning this chapter… I think it turned out okay. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! Enjoy!

Chapter 2

The airship rocked and shook in the windy storm outside. Thunder rumbled and voices could be heard cursing and yelling as they kept the rickety ship as steady as possible. Objects were falling and crashing as No. 239 gazed at a wall with little interest. From inside his small prison he was detached from everything outside including his masters, all that mattered was keeping himself comfortable.

He had only spent two full days with his new masters but was already feeling the strain from his sudden workload, from carrying loads of 'loot' to cooking and cleaning, he spent most of his time under watch by his masters. He was very capable of the work, both mentally and physically; it wasn't until he was shoved back into the small storage room that he felt the fatigue. The storage room had been stuffed to the ceiling with boxes and instruments; there was only enough room for him to take two steps between piles of storage. His fear of small spaces still hadn't left, but he decided to try not to let himself think about it.

Instead he would feed the opposite side of his developing mind, the side that encouraged emotion and thought. He had found a box filled with books inside the little room, he had read them all. Everything from Maps and Geography of the Mist Continent, The Alexandrian Royals, to A Complete Guide to First Aide and No. 239's favourite, The Weapon Lover's Guide. He remembered every fact, every word and phrase, his programming made it easy for him to memorize everything perfectly. But he didn't read because of his programming, he read it for himself, for that wonderful and new side of his mind.

However, things were different outside of his small prison. The humans that had ownership of him were not kind. But he couldn't bring himself to think badly of them. After all, they were his masters, his human masters, he was nothing compared to them and… there was always the chance they may hurt him like that first one did. He should be happy, no, he shouldn't be. He shouldn't feel emotions when it came to his masters and orders. But there wasn't any problem in having emotions for himself, was there?

Thunder rose again from outside. Another human swore as the airship shook again. A couple of object fell from the boxes above No. 239 who covered his head with his arms again, these events occurred quite often. When the shaking stopped, he let his arms fall to his sides and decided to pick up the fallen objects and return them to their place. He got down to his knees and kneeled over to reach a small wooden box when he could hear voices from outside the door. As he retrieved the box he listened with slight interest to the voices…

"Fucking weather. We've blown off course…"

"Don't worry 'bout it, we'll still be able to give that son of a bitch what's comin' to him."

"Heheh. I love this revenge shit! It's not often you can get back at these bastards with a fucking huge fireball right in their ugly faces…"

"Yeah, yeah, we know, you won't shut up about it."

"…Then BOOM, off goes their goddamn face!"

"Ha, ha, ha, you're too much…"

"Shut yur beaks assholes, the storm's clearin' up!"

Just the regular talk, No. 239 assessed as he got off the ground and placed the object back in its place. He never took much notice of his masters' conversations, he wasn't supposed to, all he had to worry about was following orders and keeping them happy. And they seemed very happy with him, most of the time, anyways. But he never understood their talk of 'revenge'. It was one of the few words not covered in his programming. Whenever they told him it was time to get 'revenge' they would take him to a human building and… and… missing information, memory not retrieved… what happened after?

Don't think about orders, he reminded himself. They are not to be thought about, they are only to be carried out. There is no use in trying to remember. But, what if I want to remember? He thought. I want to know. But 'want' is not an emotion suitable for black mages. Emotion is not to be had at all. Cease program… trouble shoot for program error… But… Why?

No. 239 groaned and pressed his hands against his temple. His head felt like it would rip in two. A hot, sickening pain surged through his mind. His programming was trying to wipe the other side out; the other side was fighting against it. And No. 239 was just a spectator in this gruesome battle. He griped harder onto his head as the pain grew, he ceased to think for a moment as the pain took all of his focus.

The airship rattled and groaned as it landed, the storm stopped its reign over the land; all that was left of it were the dark clouds clinging to the mountains. The door swung open in front of No. 239. Two of his masters stood before him, their eyes tainted with greed, one's mouth twisted into a sick grin as the other said, "Come on, its revenge time!"

Another day has passed. It is exactly 11:48:014.

No. 239 wondered how he was able to do that.

Sunlight was streaming down onto the landing site No. 239's masters had made. There was nothing but sky, trees, mist and the occasional airship that flew by in the distance. No. 239's masters sat around in the sun outside of the airship, one was looking over a map and the rest chatted and threw back drinks. No. 239 was standing near, executing his area defense program: Investigate any changes in landscape, eliminate any dangerous life forms, walk a 6.458-yard radius around structure, repeat. His brass staff shimmered lightly in the sunlight. No. 239 liked his staff but he couldn't find it in the weapons book he had read. He decided it must have been unique. Unique…

"That son of a bitch owed us, what was it? 90,000 gil? And we got how much from him?"

"200,000 gil."

"Haha, talk about investment!"

"You mean 'interest' you drunk fucker."

"Hahaha, yeah that."

"I need my cut so I can this shitty dagger fixed… cheap ass crap…"

No. 239 turned his head toward his masters. He heard 'dagger'. Daggers are short knifes that had a pointed blade and are used for piercing or stabbing enemies. He read about them, they are written about in pages 398-419 in his book.

"Woah, that mage thing is staring right at me."

"Hahaha he likes you!"

"Shut up you fucking idiot…"

"Ahh, that thing is creepy… make it stop!"

"Hey you! Stop that!"

No. 239 obeyed without thought. Turning back to the unchanging landscape before him. He closes his eyes for a moment, to try and regain his composure, to abandon emotion and thought for just a while longer.

"Hey, do you think that thing could fix the dagger?"

"What?"

"It casts fire and shit, couldn't it fix the dagger?"

"You could try…"

"Hahaha… where's the rest of the booze?"

"Shut it! Hey mage!"

No. 239 turns slowly and faces his masters with eyes as empty as he can make them.

"Come ere'… can you fix weapons?"

No. 239 makes his way to his master. He could fix weapons, perhaps… It wasn't in his programming but his book had explained how weapons were fixed… Fire magic could be used… He nodded to his master in reply.

His master smiles. He made his master happy. His master pulls out a dagger from his scabbard and hands it to No. 239. It was a Zorlin Shape, a popular dagger amongst 'thieves'. It is generally priced around 6000gil but this one seemed to lack the strength and durability the weapon usually had. His master pointed him to a large rock he could use to hold the dagger against while he fixed it. Without question, the mage walked over to the rock, admiring the gleaming blade as he went.

"So, when are we going to sell that mage thing?"

"Fuck if I know, it's up to the boss right? He had to sign some shit saying he wouldn't show it to anyone until Brahne releases them or some shit like that."

"Fucking idiot. Signing shit."

"Yeah I know, but imagine how much it'll sell for."

"Hahaha. We'll be loaded."

"Damn straight. Once we get rid of a few more bastards I'd kiss that thing goodbye."

"I wouldn't, it probably bites pretty fucking hard."

The blade caught the sunlight and shone in no. 239's gloved hands. He couldn't understand why he was so intrigued by weapons…

"Get the fuck in there!" No. 239's master boomed behind him.

No. 239 winced. He didn't want to go into the storage room again but he didn't want to disobey his master either… So he kept his position, his hands gripping the door pane, pushing himself away from the tiny room. The thought of being back in the room gave him shivers, he didn't want to go in… he didn't want…

"Useless piece of shit…"

But 'want' can't collide with orders! He wasn't allowed to 'want'. He had to do as he was told. But he didn't… want… Program error. Program error. Delete corrupt program…

"The fuck is wrong with it?"

"That bastard that gave me em' said he was defective…"

He let go of the door pane and instead gripped the sides of his head. He felt the same pain as before, the one side of his mind trying to wipe out the other. He felt hot and sick. He felt himself drop to his knees, shaking. He was faint and his sight was blurry… This was worse than before…

He felt something pull him up, something that gripped his arms so tightly it brought pain. No. 239 clamped his eyes shut as he felt himself get turned around to face where his master was standing. For a moment nothing happened, the pain inside his mind did not ease. Then a sudden force struck No. 239's middle, his lungs released all its air… His head sunk as he curled, the pain from the punch and the programming was more than he could take. A curse sounded above him as his master kicked him hard in the shoulder, so hard he tumbled into the same storage room, lying helpless against his masters.

The door slammed shut. His eyes eased open, the ceiling of the storage room spun gently. He sat up, rubbing his shoulder, his other hand still clamped against his head. The pain had eased a little but it still hurt…

No. 239's glowing yellow eyes narrowed cruelly as he thought against all his programming that controlled his will: "I hate my masters."

A/N: Headache… Anyways, I hope everyone enjoyed that installment of Defect… Remember if anyone's reading this who hasn't read Broken, you should, really. Everything makes more sense that way. Or you could just wait for this one to be done… or whatever. I dunno. I'm rambling! Anyways, please leave a review and expect the next chapter soon, I promise it will be more exciting than this one.