It took me some time to update this, but I'm satisfied with the result. I want to thank everybody that reviewed as it's these reviews that mainly keep me going. Warnings for this chapter? Some mature themes and a murder scene description. Enjoy:

Chapter 4: Night

"Many doubt reploids have souls. They regard them as merely smart machinery. What they fail to understand is that the same can be said for humans. A machine does not have to be formed out of metal..."

Lyn tried to casually walk down the corridor but couldn't help shuddering slightly. Breach of protocol was a serious offence in Mocpac industries. Her small frame finally reached the heavy blast doors and they parted smoothly, despite their apparently obscene weight. Somewhat relieved by the unvoiced invitation, she boldly stepped in the darker room, her black hair sparkling momentarily as the corridor's ambient light was reflected on them.

"Miss Lyn Weil!" exclaimed a joyful voice from within, as soon as the doors had once again sealed themselves. "How nice of you to pay me a visit! During after hours, too! Working the whole night through again, eh?"

"Good to see you, too, Lenny" she replied, smiling awkwardly and glancing at a security camera that vigilantly surveyed the room.

"Don't sweat it, Lyn" responded the reploid in question, performing a dismissive hand gesture, slight enough as to not disturb the multitude of wires that sprouted from his forearm and were connected to the terminal before him. "I have set this camera to loop last hour's feed. Anything that happens here is off the record" he added casually, causing Lyn to sigh in relief.

"I sure hope so, Lenny. I'm in hot water as it is" she breathed somberly.

"Never worry, all will go fine" chirped the reploid, his eyes glued on the screen. "Since you are not really known for pleasantries, I trust you need something. I also hope you brought IT" he added, somewhat sharply.

Lyn sighed again, then produced a tiny vial from the pocket of her lab coat, setting it on a desk next to Lenny. "Product #654-b" she started. "Experimental euphoric substance, using special nanite agents to manipulate a human's central nervous system or a reploid's neural sensory pathways. Induces a prolonged period of increased mental activity, regardless of the subject's race, while giving the user a sense of extreme bliss. Possible negative effects include power drain, addiction and sometimes death" she recited neutrally. "Lenny, are you really going to use this thing" she asked concerned. "It's dangerous..."

"No matter, Lyn, I'll take that risk. While monitoring the mainframe is a good job..." he replied, glancing at the door hiding the central processors in subzero temperatures "... it can get suicidally boring at times" he added. "So, how can I show you my gratitude?"

The researcher was quick to respond. "Nothing too elaborate, Lenny. I just need some of the archives altered. Mainly from the recycling and reploid distribution management branches..."

X sighed heavily, sending a mental command that caused the lights in his room to turn on at their lowest level of brightness. He rose from his bed, sitting at its edge and sighing once more. While reploids can remain without sleep much longer than humans, mental restlessness can keep them awake as surely as their biologic counterparts. The blue hero glanced momentarily at the capsule gracing his room and apparently gathering dust, debating whether he should use it to enter standby mode. He quickly dismissed the notion, though, as he, and many other reploids, loathed the dreamless refuge capsule sleep offered as well as the so close to death state he would experience.

The mind of humanity's savior traveled, albeit unwillingly, to the sight he had seen earlier that day. The alarm had gone off when the intruder attempted an unauthorized exit through the Headquarters' outer shield, after stealing a ride chaser nonetheless. Zero had tried to follow him, but the trail had already gone cold by the time he started the hunt, presumably because the culprit was smart enough to head for the city's center, where sensors would grow useless. While the red hunter had led the fruitless hunt, followed by a hastily assembled ride chaser team, X had taken the task to find out just what the intruder had done right under their collective nose. His inspection had gone smoothly, up to the point when somebody had thought to check the prison cells.

If there was something more horrible for X than the half-crazed screams that particular member of his search party produced, it would have surly been the sight that caused them. X had gone as far as to use his restricted teleportation codes to wrap directly to the prison quarters. As a precaution he had ordered everybody else to stay away from the area and after seeing the look on his subject's face, he had been glad he did so. After entering the prison cells that were supposed to house the prisoners he had apprehended earlier that day, he had also been thankful of that decision. Things like that were notorious for sending morale to a free fall.

While X generally hated killing, a century of battle had caused him to develop high levels of tolerance to death and destruction, if only to retain his sanity. However, the scene before him had been worse than any battlefield or junkyard he had ever seen before. The seven surviving reploids had been reduced to little more than blooded husks, their vital fluids spilled on the floor and staining the walls. None of the victims had exploded, though, as their power cores, the only part apparently left untouched, had been allowed to shut down peacefully. That, however, left the pseudo-biological parts, that would have been vaporized had the cores gone critical, visible at plain sight, a quite disturbing spectacle by itself. The mutilated faces that could still somehow reflect gallons of pain and fear, combined with the many pieces of still-cackling circuitry, had made things even worse.

X had felt himself swooning, his neural pathways unable to fully comprehend the gruesome scene fast enough. What had returned him to reality, were two reploids that entered the room some time later, namely Signas and a very ticked off Zero that had just returned empty-handed. The first had gasped aloud and had shut his eyes, removing his cap purely mechanically, while the second had stared for some seconds, wordlessly punching his fist a good five inches inside the fortified prison wall, then leaving.

X shook his head, vainly attempting to chase the images away, but soon he realized sleep just wouldn't agree with him for a while. Disheartened, he rose to his feet, phasing in his casual armor and exiting his room. While hunters off duty were not obliged to wear armor, they were encouraged to do so and since X was a commander and a symbol, setting examples was paramount.

"Might as well spend my time on something useful" he whispered, heading slowly to the medical bay.

Axl fired both of his pistols at full auto in an attempt to strike his apparently crazed opponent, but she effortlessly danced around the wild shots, morphing her one hand into a buster and releasing a single, thin beam of energy. Fortunately for the junior captain, the attack was not light-based and so he had enough time to dodge-barely.

"Gah, why won't you stay still so I can hit you!" exclaimed Axl exasperated, pausing his attacks to look down at his opponent. And down he had to look, since the reploid before him was barely reaching his chest in height.

"What's the matter kid?" asked his foe, her rodent-like muzzle forming a grin. "Are you so used in fighting enemies slower than you?" She mocked.

Axl groaned. "Shut up, Windy. I'll beat you this time" he declared, both of his weapons changing color and shape and becoming slimmer. "Take this" he bellowed, firing both Ray Guns at his hyperactive target.

The reploid identified as Windy gasped, her eyes growing wide as the new, much faster projectiles closed on her. With no time to dodge, she morphed her buster back to a hand, three needle-like energy claws erupting from each of her knuckles. Her hands a blur, she created a virtual shield that deflected each of the hundreds of projectiles the black hunter unloaded on her, although not without much effort.

"I have you this time!" cried Axl, almost in glee. "It's only a matter of time before you are overwhelmed!"

"Time you don't have!" retaliated the female rodent, her tail extending and rising above her back. The appendage flashed once, its tip morphing into a buster identical with the first. The ensuing beam of concentrated energy missed Axl, but caused him to lose his aim, leaving Windy an opening. Fully exploiting the opportunity, she jumped in the air, her body shinning, then vanishing.

Axl's face hardened. "Short wrap" he hissed. "From where will she come this time? From behind? From above? From below?"

"Haa!" cried Windy, attacking with all six claws from right before the junior captain. The move sent him flying backwards and he landed quite ungracefully after an unfortunate collision with a reinforced wall. The rodent-like reploid rushed to attack again, but this time Axl was ready. His pistols flashed once more, then melded with his hands, forming energy blade emitters. Twins short blades came out and blocked the incoming claws.

"Oh!" marveled Windy. "You finally managed to only change part of yourself instead of copying the whole thing" she added.

Axl grinned, still holding the claws away from his body, even gaining a bit of a ground against his diminutive opponent. "I haven't lost yet" he countered cockily.

Windy grinned a toothy smile. "Aren't you forgetting something, boy?" she teased, and Axl's eyes dilated as her tail produced another trio of claws, coming to rest right before his face.

"I give!" responded Axl after little thought. "I swear, Windy, I'll get you one of these days."

The other reploid nodded, jumping backwards, her claws vanishing. "You did very well today, Axl" she praised, wiping some synthetic sweat from her brown fur and black armor. "X would have been proud of you" she added, straightening her short, midnight blue hair.

At that, Axl's face dropped. "I made him mad again earlier" he sighed. "I screwed with protocol again" he added, accepting Windy's hand and raising to his feet.

Windy shook her head. "Not that again" she snapped dismayed. "Look, I'm his second-in-command, I'll talk to him to give you a break. You are one of the best fighters I have seen Axl. I have been fighting four times longer that you have and the only reason I can still beat you is because I focus on speed."

Axl waved dismissively. "No, Windy, he is right. I have been getting promotion after promotion, but my non-fighting skills are lacking. If it was only my neck, I wouldn't even bother, but now the ones below me depend on my knowledge" he added sagely, only to receive a smack across the back of his neck. "That hurt, Windy!" he cried half-seriously.

"So responsibility has shown her ugly face in little Axl's mind" she mused. "I can help you with that stuff, too, boy. I have been leading squads since Repliforce went bad."

The night has fallen over the city but my mind and body refuse to rest. I aimlessly wander through the always active halls of the Maverick Hunter Headquarters, my artificial brain taking in the all too familiar sights without me really noticing. As I walk inside this building, the place I have been calling home for as long as I can remember myself, fellow hunters spot me, greeting, saluting or cowering away in fear and awe. I return each gesture absentmindedly, weary of the long day behind me and the years before that.

My steps take me to one of the most secluded places I usually reserve for such moments and I welcome the quality of the setting. On the highest roof of the complex, just under the communications tower. Few ever escape in this particular place, other bitter loners or happy couples finding other, more accessible places to pursue their need for solitude. From here I can gaze at the whole complex as well as a large part of Megacity 1. And one of the sides offers visual contact with the wasteland beyond the great metropolis' walls. Not really a wasteland, I remind myself, at least not anymore. Wild lands might be a better term, since nature has mostly recovered, although in new, exotic, artificial and, for some, scary ways...

As I let my eyes unfocus, I allow myself some peace. I drop the vigilant guard I almost always keep and try to think. I remind myself that everything I can see would not currently exist if I had stopped fighting, if I had laid down my trusty green saber and had let the world spin by. Unfortunately, I find myself needing motivation, needing a reason to fight for, to continue fighting. I crave a good, a noble, a higher cause. Something to take my mind away from who I really am, what I really am.

Instead, my drives are all but that. Surely I fight for a better future, perhaps for a world like what X thinks he can achieve. X, my best friend, my brother even, and the one I was supposed to kill. He has somehow managed to retain a part of his old self, a part of his old, adorable and foolish naivete. I respect him for that. Even envy him sometimes. But despite all that, when the time to fight is upon me, higher goals seem to vanish from my psyche, chased away by wilder, baser notions. The thrill of battle and of the kill, revenge, lust, rage...

I shake my head, trying to abolish the thought. I know it will not help me now and I know I can't help it either. Earlier, when I came face to face with the massacre that left X and Signas pale, I felt it again. Despite my conscious mind screaming at me, I felt what I feel in battle, the glee of the kill, of blood, of petty existences snuffed at a whim. I almost blacked out, my body needing to touch, to feel, to smell, to taste, craving the menu at Death's buffet. I loath that part, that feral part of myself, but I have accepted it, knowing very well that it's what keeps me alive, a deep, a permanent part.

In an attempt to reorganize my thoughts, I try to think of the facts behind the massacre. No official report has yet been compiled, but I recognized the reploid I was pursuing even if he got away. I never came to know him personally, but I identified him as a long timer, one of the lucky-or unlucky- ones that live to face many battles. I know very well hunters can become Mavericks very easily. I have felt the sting of treachery on my hide too many times. Knowing that most of them are victims themselves only makes killing them harder. But then it dawns of me, the rational part of my mind connecting the dots. Glad to take action, I activate my comm.

"Zero to command center, come in" I whisper and I know I will be heard.

"I read you, Zero, this is Layer" responds a calm but somewhat hesitant voice. I can't help but sigh at that. Layer might be one of the most dependable persons I know, but everybody except her knows she has some... issues with my person.

"Is everything okay?" she adds, concerned while attempting to hide that fact itself. I can't help but chuckle bitterly at that. Foolish girl. She should know better than keeping emotions for me, although I can't bring myself to tell her that outright. She knows I always avoid real commitment, my romantic relationships kept brief and intense. Every other of my many 'fans' know and accept that, I make sure they do. I can't allow myself to let anyone come too close. Never again, as only pain can come of it...

"I want you to check some things for me, Layer. Find the name of the reploid that was in charge of driving the prison transport this morning. Check for fighting preferences, current position and send me a visual image."

"Roger" she responds and I can hear her working, doing her best to please me. Foolish girl...

"I have it." I must say I'm impressed. Not even Alia works so fast. "Unit #3445436, designation Rozef. He is in the 34th unit. He mainly favors ranged attacks, but I can't seem to be able to spot him now. Either he is out of range, he has deactivated his comm., or..."

She never finishes that sentence. She knows there is no need to, that some things are better left unspoken. Even if she can't take a hint in personal life, I admit she is quite sharp in her work, blunt when needed, realistic as long as she can concentrate. Perhaps...

My thoughts scatter as an image file is downloaded in my mind and this time I'm positive this is the one, the driver of the transport, the murderer and the one that escaped me. That doesn't explain why nobody noticed our 'guests' were being massacred and our hanger pillaged. There were cameras in both sites. I'm curious what in hell the boys and girls at the security center were doing. And most importantly, that doesn't explain why the prisoners were slashed to death instead of shot. The autopsy is not yet ready, but I can damn well recognize a sword slash.

Then, another idea comes to me. It's natural, considering I count a shapeshifter among my friend and I have fought many of that kind before. And deceived by them, of course.

"Layer, get me the transport's wrap point" I order while I already move. I don't even bother taking the stairs, sliding down on the high structure's wall and leaping to smoothly land on the ground below.

"Section ABD-23, 164-045" she answers and I spare a second to marvel at her capabilities. It is obvious she has already found the information when I asked. I dash towards the coordinates, even cranking my dash booster to their max. I also throw caution to the wind, expanding my sensory matrix to its full range and capacity, gasping a bit at the sudden influx of information. Infrared, ultraviolet, sonar, X-rays, pressure sense and many others... I must look like the sun itself on the command center's radar.

"What's wrong?" she asks urgently, but I ignore her. I have more pressing matters right now. I search my systems for a particular piece of data and activate it. Yammar Option. Matter condensers come to life and produce tiny dragonfly-shaped drones. I have mastered that technique a long time ago and I can now modify the drones. Instead of three large ones, I create many, much smaller. I scatter them around the point Layer indicated, a tiny horde of ears and eyes. Soon, I get results and my fears come true.

"Zero" echoes my comm. "Signas requested your presence at the medical bay. Lifesaver has the autopsy ready and a council will be held among the unit commanders."

I sigh. "Roger that, Layer. Before I wrap there, call the 18th unit to send an investigation squad at my coordinates. I fear we have a body..."

And this is all for now. I confess I experimented hard with this chapter, writing one scene as a flashback and another from first POV. I eagerly expect your comments...

To MysticMaiden 18: Thank you for the good words. Good to have such enthusiastic reviewers.

To SylentStryke: Glad you like it. While X won't easily go in a rampage outside battle, he can still be very strict with rookies... Stroganoff a jerk? You haven't seen the half of it yet...

To isis2k2: Axl is very easy to like or loath. I try to remain neutral, though :-) I hope you like both this and the other story's new chapter...

To PhiloWorm: just don't hit them too hard. I need you all to keep typing;-D As for conspiracy, I feel you will get enough in this story...

To MyGBAcanTalk: Yes, you find it. Now keep it close... Stroganoff's name came to me at random, then realized it was also a food XD. Axl is a huge, ass-wagging target for such situations...

To DarkEcho-in-the-sky: Hi there! The story solely exists in my mind right now, so you'll have no luck. Thank you for the good words and fear not. I got your PM and I'll answer soon, when I stop drowning in other things I have to do...