Death and the Vibrant Architecture of Rebirth

by goldenyuusha

A century had passed since Zero had sealed himself away. After being awoken by the Neo Arcadian king X, Zero finds himself in an unfamiliar, perfect world with no one to turn to but his old partner. But cracks start to form in the perfect things he once held dear, and Zero must accept that they may be set in stone forever. An MMZ AU where Neo Arcadia finds Zero before Ciel.

9. Chapter Eight

AN: wooow, it's been a while, lol. Sorry to keep you guys hanging. Been busy with, like, everything. I've recently started my honours unit, so I've been at uni from 9-5, and also stuck in a lab for most of the time, not really a place to whip out the phone and start writing my silly robot story. if you are curious, I'm helping out on work on how a certain mutation in chromatin factors affect genomic integrity in brain cancers.

other than that, not much to say about this chapter. our protagonists get cozy with one another, certain neo arcadians struggle with faltering allegiances (and some are unwavering), and ciel meets with a few familiar faces. hope you enjoy!

FF NET NOTE: By the way, finally got the cover image to work. The piece is a lovely artwork I commissioned for the story from the mega talented ultimatemaverickx.

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CHAPTER 8

"Harpuia?"

The voice of Zero tore Harpuia from his bored stupor, making him startle from where he stood outside the processing centre.

For hours now, Zero had been meandering around the halls nearby, nervously pacing and badgering Harpuia for updates, to which Harpuia simply pleaded for his patience. He wasn't part of the processing unit- he had just been elected to stand guard until Craft was given the green light. Of course, telling Zero that did as much good as not saying it at all.

Zero was so much like his partner. Stubborn.

"What is it?" Harpuia addressed him with steely eyes, arms crossed.

"Is he done yet?"

Harpuia expected no other question. He humoured the query regardless, and he checked his internal incoming alerts.

At least this time, he could offer an answer Zero would be happy to hear. "Well, yes, actually," he said, "the processing unit just let me know they're just about done with your maverick pet."

He stepped aside the sliding doors for Zero to enter. Zero just frowned, unmoving.

"He has a name," Zero chided. Harpuia rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, the names of mavericks mattered as much as their lives. Worth nothing at all.

"Yes, of course. After you, Master Zero."

The look of disapproval Zero cast towards Harpuia as he passed by was not lost on him. He elected to ignore it- Zero was an ornery android, X had made that clear to him.

The processing unit's workshop was a sterile, spartan space, with polished stainless steel covering every surface and harsh fluorescent lights beaming down, a stark contrast to the older styled luxury of the citadel. A team of reploid scientists scattered into formation at Harpuia and Zero's arrival, standing politely at attention. Harpuia gestured to them to be at ease with a bow of his head.

In an instant, Zero's eyes locked onto Craft's unconscious body lying limp on a metal berth, a thick cable fastened in a port in the nape of his neck. The warbot had been cleaned up, the scuffs in his armour had been buffed out and polished, looking respectable enough to be a servant in the citadel. There was a thick restraining bolt collared around his neck, the same one that Zero was burdened with. Zero was certain it was to ensure he stayed in line around Zero and his colleagues.

A reploid, Zero assumed the head mechanic, coughed, drawing in Zero's attention. He extended a hand, but when Zero didn't shake it, it fell back to his side.

"Master Zero. Good afternoon, sir." The wiry reploid shrunk back in respect. "We're about done here. No modifications to his body. No tampering with his stem or halobrain. Only modification we've made is external, hooked him up to the restraining device. As you requested. Sir."

Zero nodded slowly, but said nothing.

"Well, if you're okay with all of that, we'll be waking him up for you, sir," he went on. "Might wanna step back. You know, just as a precaution… sir."

After a brief pause, the mechanic let out a passive sigh and pivoted, turning his attention onto the task at hand. Zero and Harpuia backed up some as he entered a few commands into the medical console, Craft's internals whirring to life shortly after the mechanic went about running them. He wearily unplugged the cable from Craft's neck and stepped away, reaching for a stun rifle just in case his restraints weren't sufficient.

Zero watched with rapt attention, fists balled tight in apprehension as he watched the lumbering warbot slowly emerge from unconsciousness. His fingers flexed and tapped the berth as feeling returned to his body, and his eyes blinked open, before straining shut under the harsh bright lights of the fluorescence. He groaned, uncomfortable, shifting on the spot before realising he had been tied down and going limp again in defeat.

A few moments passed as Craft regained his bearings, rising from the operating table, clearly delirious and confused, but awake. His features bunched up in pain, and his joints and hydraulics popped and hissed as he tightened his tired, numb muscles.

A lull fell upon the room as he adjusted to the waking world, and his wandering eyes caught Zero's gaze. Zero startled and locked up, his pupils growing small upon eye contact.

He had calculating cobalt eyes, an old scar running across his squarish face and a shock of stubble on his chin. He had a flash of jet black hair, unkempt and messy, and sturdy, thick armour, much unlike the sleeker Neo Arcadian military reploid builds Zero had found himself grown accustomed to. Though his armour had been polished and buffed to a gleaming finish, there were still countless scuffs and scars criss-crossing his form that simply couldn't be erased or looked over. It was clear that he was a reploid from a bygone decade, and no stranger to a long war.

"...Craft."

Zero stepped forward to greet him, but Harpuia stopped him with an outstretched arm. Craft dipped his head in acknowledgement, offering Zero a silent greeting instead. The head mechanic procured a datapad from a drawer and took a pen from his lab coat pocket.

"Apologies. Sir. Give me a moment… sir," he apologised. He stood an arms length away from Craft. "You." He pointed at Craft, who raised his brow. "Gonna do a real quick cognition test, it won't take too long. Speak. Any word."

Craft's shoulders slumped, no longer on guard. "...Alright."

It was a simple enough request, and even a simpler answer, but Zero was still happy to hear him speak. His voice struck him in his core, deep and gruff, by no means was he loud, but he still spoke with a firm and powerful cadence that carried a great, formidable strength. The reploid mechanic wrote something down, mumbling to himself.

"What's your name? Model number?"

"Craft Fenrisúlfr. Kilo-Niner-Echo-13-decimal-02-decimal-2332. \1 . X Y\, that's one-decimal-X-Ray-Yankee." He didn't hesitate in his answer. Though he was uncomfortable, he was lucid. The mechanic nodded in subdued approval.

"Thank you. You know where you are?"

"Hm. Probably Area X-2. X-3. Considering we're in the medical wing of the citadel. Why are you asking me this?"

"Making sure you're thinking straight. Just in case we nicked something we shouldn't've. We're in Area X-2. You know why you're here?"

"Sure. Serving as Master Zero's guardian." He was short and succinct- not a hint of a uncertainty in his tone. "In exchange for my life."

The mechanic pursed his lips, tapping the back of his pen on his chin. "Alright… Well, I think you're in the clear. I'm gonna undo your restraints. Be nice, or we'll shoot."

A few of Harpuia's soldiers standing at the outskirts of the lab readied their weapons. The mechanic input a few passwords into the medical terminal, and the shackles came undone with a click.

His movements were slow as he stretched out his arms and legs so as to not startle the Neo Arcadians surrounding him. He worried his hand around his wrist and cracked it back and forth, opening and closing his fist, loosening it up after having been shackled for so long.

As he kicked his feet over the gurney, he grabbed at the heavy restraining bolt around his neck weighing him down and tightened his jaw in silent disappointment. Zero inched closer, as if approaching a wild animal, and gently set his hand on Craft's thigh, his sturdy legs making his hand look tiny in comparison.

It drew his attention, the large warbot's gaze first fixing itself at Zero's delicate touch, then flicking upwards to cast him a confused, soft frown, his eyes roving back and forth indicative of racing thoughts as he tried to figure out Zero's intentions.

"Zero…" Craft murmured. "You saved me."

In response, Zero offered a small nod, but no words. Craft furrowed his brow. "...Why?"

Craft noticed a flash of sorrow in Zero's eyes before he exhaled a sharp breath and hurriedly pulled away his gaze. He threaded his fingers through his own hair, seeking comfort.

"After seeing what happened to Axl, I couldn't just stand by and watch another reploid die like he did." Zero closed the distance between them, his voice low and hushed. "Not when I have the chance to do something to stop it, even just this once."

The sentiment took Craft aback with a pleasant surprise, and he leaned back in slight disbelief. History painted Zero as a ruthless, yet fair warrior. To hear such gentle, kind compassion, a rare commodity among Neo Arcadians, from Zero of all reploids gave Craft pause.

No matter his presumptions, it was only right he returned the sympathy. Craft bowed his head in dearest gratitude. "Thank you. I owe you everything, Zero."

Zero shook his head no, cradling Craft's larger hand in his own. "Was the least I could do."

A heavy silence permeated in the air, before Zero let him go again. When the pause grew too much for Craft to handle, he breathed out the tension simmering in his chest and looked away, tracing his fingers over his neck brace, his gaze solemn and distant.

"Then I guess my life of servitude starts now, huh?" Craft slipped a finger under the collar and tugged at it half heartedly. "Never thought I'd be back here as a friend, Master Zero."

Zero made a meek laugh, but it died quickly. "Please, just… Zero."

Craft tried to be polite with a forced, quiet chuckle, but the hostile effect of Harpuia's gaze locked on the two made it much too hard to open up in a way that mattered. When Zero shot a glance over his shoulder to face Harpuia, he glared back with narrowing, stern eyes, arms crossed and lips drawn in a cold frown.

He should probably find someplace a little more private if he was gonna get anywhere with Craft. Zero took a step back.

"Well, you're no use sitting around in here," Zero said, his voice carrying a hint of conclusivity that allowed the mechanics and soldiers in the room to fall at ease in anticipation of leaving the situation. "Come on. I'll take you to my room, and we can chat there. Can you walk?"

Craft shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

He awkwardly shuffled off the gurney, landing flat on his feet. His knees buckled slightly, and Zero offered a supporting hand, but Craft didn't take it. His stance faltered somewhat, but eventually he regained his balance. Zero asked him to follow with a flick of his head, and Craft could do little else other than obey.

Not that Harpuia wouldn't let them get far. He stepped in front of the door, blocking the two from proceeding.

"Ahem." Harpuia inched forward, forcing the two to back up. "You, maverick. Do you understand the full conditions of your sentence?" He pointed at his collar. "That bolt on your neck tracks your proximity to Master Zero. Stray too far without his permission, and it will automatically activate and disable your movement system, and you must wait for an authorised person to reset it. You can't run away, so don't even try it." His face darkened. "And if you as much as think of laying a finger on Master Zero, Master X will have your corpse hung from the rafters as an example to all. Yes?"

Craft made an exasperated grimace. "Got it, General."

Harpuia stared at him discerningly for another couple uncomfortable seconds before making a small harrumph. "Good. Zero? Do what you will with him. If he causes any trouble for you, let us know. If there's nothing else, I'll be taking my leave now…"

With that, Harpuia departed, probably happy to be free to do something else. Without the burden of Harpuia weighing down on them, Craft let up his fraught constitution and let his weary mind grow a touch calmer. Zero wasn't one to stand around, however, and grabbed Craft's arm and dragged him away, escaping the antagonistic aura of the sterile lab and into the magnificence of the Neo Arcadian citadel.

The difference between the harsh white lights of the lab and the golden glow of the outside world made Craft's eyes water, but there wouldn't be time for him to adjust before he was whisked away. Zero's pace was brisk as he dragged Craft through the countless hallways of the citadel, the larger reploid tripping over himself as he tried to keep up with his tired legs.

Craft barely had a chance to take in his surroundings, the ivory white city whirring by in a blur beyond the arcs of the marble colonnade. The corridors were wide and expansive, the ceilings hanging tall above their heads and decorated with exorbitant frescoes of war scenes from days past. The citadel was a city in of itself, a winding and expansive tower with endless rooms and enclosed buildings, open air spaces and gardens, and as many places for the public to come visit at their leisure as there were places for servicemen to come and work. As palatial and grand as the citadel was, the ever watchful eyes of the Neo Arcadian soldiers positioned at every corner made Craft feel terribly claustrophobic- it felt like the walls were closing in on him, crushing him under the intense pressure of X's tyranny.

He was alive, but at the cost of his freedom. He had sacrificed so much to escape Neo Arcadia, and just like that, it was all for nothing. Maybe it was true that there was no freedom from Neo Arcadia's cold embrace, at least, not for reploids like Craft.

Zero slowed to a stop in front of an elevator, standing face-to-face with a Pantheon standing guard. He cleared his throat and shooed it off, the vacuous soldier skulking away at his command.

Craft managed a small, amused grin. There were worse reploids to be stuck with, at least.

The two stood in silence as they waited, neither really knowing what there was to say. They were strangers, but Craft had a distant familiarity with Zero, if only from the tales of his heroic deeds. They were enemies, in a way- Zero was a cushy Neo Arcadian, living comfortably from X's ivory tower at the expense of his own people, ignorant to the suffering of those beneath him, and Craft was a Resistance soldier who stood against everything that represented, even at the risk of his life.

Small talk could help. "You know, this place's hardly changed since I left," Craft tried, finally taking the opportunity to take in his surroundings. "Still as ostentatious as ever."

Zero tipped his head aside in uncertain agreement, but remained mostly reticent. They stepped through the sliding doors into an empty cabin, where they ascended to the higher levels of the citadel, where the tower threatened to graze the clouds.

It still felt unreal to Craft, to be in such close proximity with the legendary reploid. He felt like he wasn't worthy to even steal a fleeting glimpse of him, much less speak to him. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and breathed, his stare fixed between his boots. "Not a fan?"

Still no response. At least, not in the form of words. Zero's nervous demeanour said it all. Craft pursed his lips and nodded, taking the hint and saying nothing more for the rest of their way back.

The high security residential units weren't something Craft was familiar with, even when he was a well regarded Neo Arcadian commander. The hallways to the lucrative living quarters were locked behind layers of well-fortified gates and were starkly devoid of guards in comparison to the rest of the spire. It was quiet, in fact, a bit too much so, the juxtaposition between the ever present noise of the public sector versus the complete absence of background conversation of the private units catching him off guard. Zero led him to his room and scanned his ID signature, where many locks came unfastened upon confirmation.

The door slid aside, Zero stood at the doorway, graciously letting Craft past before following him into his living quarters.

The privacy of Zero's room lifted the weight of uncertainty from Craft's shoulders, the larger warbot letting his combat algorithms settle in the back of his mind. Finally, they were free from the oppressive watch of the guards, from the uncomfortable glances and stares of nosey Neo Arcadian officials and from the constant looming threat of X and his children's surveillance. It was just the two of them now, and neither knew what to do with themselves now that they were alone together.

Craft ventured further into the unit while Zero elected to stay at the kitchen counter, watching his new companion closely as he went about boiling a kettle of water.

The first thing that stood out to Craft was the fact that Zero's room didn't have much in it. Craft had to guess that after a century in hibernation, one would be hard pressed to own much of anything. Zero was a pragmatic person anyway- at least, that was what Craft had gathered from historical texts. Warbots like them had little reason to have things to fill a bedroom with. His bed was made, but messily, his sheets pulled askew over the mattress, and his window was cracked open, translucent gossamer curtains catching the cool sea breeze that was coming in.

Craft stood at the window, looking off into the far distance. For once, he found himself drinking in the sight of Neo Arcadia from X's vantage point in the heavens, his city casting a much more favourable visage than it did from the ground, where much of the truth resided.

His living quarters, they were... nice, but still, missing a certain intangible essence. It was indeed a unit belonging to Zero, but it didn't feel like Zero's home.

A presence appearing at his side stole him from his reverie. Zero gave him a kind, but undeniably tired smile, and offered him a cup of hot tea. Craft's eyes darted to and from his master and his offering, before he gingerly accepted it.

"Thanks," he said, cupping the fragile mug precariously in his large hands. It felt like the delicate porcelain would shatter if he even moved wrong. Zero bowed his helm humbly.

"It's nothing. Get comfortable."

Zero turned away and returned to the kitchen, though Craft remained where he stood. Craft stared blankly into his cup, watching the dark tea slosh back and forth, still hot and steaming. He hadn't even noticed his hands had been shaking.

Since when did the master serve his slave?

"Hope you didn't want milk or anything," Zero intoned, leaning over the counter and absentmindedly stirring a spoon of sugar into his own cup. Craft tightened his jaw and tipped his head back in indignation.

"Zero… What do you want from me?" Craft asked. Zero perked up with a confused noise, head cocked.

"What do I want?" He repeated, giving it a moment of thought before slumping down again. "Nothing, really."

Craft turned around at that, casting him a bemused frown. Neo Arcadians, especially ones on Zero's calibre, weren't the type to not want something from their subordinates. "Nothing?"

Zero made a confirming hum, lifting his cup to his lips. "I wasn't exactly desperate for a servant to begin with."

Craft inched closer. "...You really just wanted to save my life?"

It was hard to believe mercy could come from anywhere in X's citadel, much less his own partner. Zero hid his eyes from the brim of his helm, before mustering up an honest smile. "That's what I told you, isn't it? If it's an order you're after, soldier..." Zero pointed his gaze at a chair at the kitchen island. "...Then come here and sit down. Talk to me."

There wasn't much else to do, anyway. Craft pulled up a seat and sat at the counter, cupping his hands around his tea cup, savouring the radiant warmth. Zero had the air conditioning on far too high.

"What do you want to know?" Craft asked. Zero shrugged a shoulder.

"I want to know who you are," he answered. "Harpuia said you used to be a Neo Arcadian military officer."

Craft took a sip of tea before answering. "Yeah. A long time ago."

"Tell me about it."

Craft sighed. "Do I have a choice?" he asked.

"There are things you know about me that I'd rather you didn't," Zero half-answered. Much to his chagrin, Craft supposed he was right.

"Right…" he groaned. "Well then, yeah, I was built as a post-war processing reploid here in Neo Arcadia. I was assigned as the leader of an elite squadron of Mutos Reploids back then- the Einherjar warriors- we were a specialised unit that was tasked with eradicating the most dangerous maverick threats, especially when the Dark Elf was still causing trouble… decades ago, now." He slumped further down with a sigh, staring down at his tea and away from Zero's piercing gaze.

"Then… you know, the Dark Elf just disappeared one day, and there were no more mavericks for us to fight. So, X began to see a maverick in anyone- the people he condemned, it didn't matter if they were actually dangerous or not. He was angry at the world for taking so much from him, and everyone became an enemy in his eyes. When the energy crisis got worse, X began apprehending and executing more and more innocent reploids. Had everyone who questioned him retired for mutiny. He deployed me and my unit to the Outside Lands and ordered us to destroy emigrant settlements that cropped up outside of Neo Arcadia's territories."

Craft opened his mouth to continue, but the words caught in his throat before he could speak them. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a sharp breath.

"We tore down refugee camps, hideouts, villages, anything that didn't belong to him, under his orders. Wiped out any and all life without discrimination, reploid, human, didn't matter, he wanted the entire world under his control." His deep voice wavered slightly. "I couldn't take it. I did horrible things, things I can't forget. There came a day when I couldn't bring myself to follow X's orders anymore, so I… I ran away."

Zero's frowned, heart struck with a forlorn sympathy. "Where did you go?"

He shook his head ambivalently. "There was nowhere I could go," he replied, "I wandered the Outside Lands. For years, all I could do was survive with what I could scavenge from the desert." He wiped down his face, his palm covering his mouth. "I didn't know what I was even living for. I didn't even feel like a person anymore, you know? The desert, it takes that from you. It's not a place for people. Every human-like; not just humans, not just reploids. I didn't even know how many years it had been since I'd deserted when I first met Neige."

"The human journalist?" Zero recalled.

"Yeah. She was on the outskirts of the city's borders, doing a story on a Neo Arcadian airstrike on a refugee camp." He nervously scratched the stubble on the side of his chin. "I saved her from the soldiers that were trailing her. She was the one who told me about the Resistance. Rest is history."

He looked aside, his stare far away. "But I'm back now. I don't know what that means for me." He was speaking quietly. "I tried to escape. All I wanted was to carve out my own path. I tried to get away from this shithole, away from X, but I'm back now. Maybe escaping our purpose– it isn't in the cards for us, not for warbots like us."

Zero went silent for a while, taking in his story and his sorrows. He bowed his head. He had once believed that sentiment. It was hard not to, especially now, when he felt more objectified than ever.

"That isn't true…" he refuted, "we're people too. Capable of love and joy and pride and compassion and invention."

Axl's parting message did little to soothe Craft's sense of defeat. He didn't sound all too convinced of it himself. Zero reached over the counter and laid his fingers over his hand, offering gentle consolation. "Hey. You saved Neige, right? You risked a lot to break her out."

"...I did."

Zero's brows rose, impressed. "That's pretty noble of you."

Craft frowned. "She was a journalist. Her only crime was telling the truth. She had no business being in that cell. That place is a cruel place for reploids and downright inhospitable to humans," he said, "but I don't know if she's even alive right now. For all I know, X's got her again. This world's captive to him."

It was hard to argue that, especially when X had a chokehold on all of Zero's freedoms. Craft hastily withdrew his hand from Zero's touch when he realised it had been lingering there.

"Craft, did you know X? Before he changed?"

The question drew Craft's drifting attention back to Zero. "Yeah, I did, once. It used to be an honour to fight under his command. He was a good man. Sad, though. I don't know what happened to him…" he scratched the back of his head. "Guess it's hard, fighting for a century when you're holding onto that sadness, returning home from a war with nobody home. I don't think he could handle it, he became angrier because of it, until he was blinded by it. He wanted to make others feel what he did, and take back control of the world so it'd never hurt him again." Craft's fist balled up. "His war on mavericks- it wasn't about protecting the people anymore. I don't even think it's about the energy crisis."

Zero shrunk back. "It's about power." His heart sank. "X always wanted to be strong. He hated his own weakness, even when we were young."

"Yeah… Yeah." Craft sighed, his voice losing volume as he spoke. "I don't know what else I can do to stop him. I can't change his mind. I'm nobody to him. I'm just one soldier, fighting for the people I believe in. To be honest, I don't think anyone can fix what he's done, not at this point…" He leaned back on the barstool. "Either way, it doesn't matter. I'm back now. Guess it's better than dead."

There were things the both of them wanted to say, but they would stay internalised. Zero made a long sigh and stepped away from the counter. The golden glow of the sun was slowly disappearing behind the dark rain clouds rolling in over the horizon, and Zero slowly walked over to the windows to shut them, the whirl of storm wind silenced and plunging them into a deeper lull.

Zero leaned against the window sill, still processing all the new information Craft had supplied him. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to hear the gruesome details of X's rule, but it was necessary. Zero was entitled to the truth- as was all of Neo Arcadia.

A gentle patter of rain began drumming on the windowpane as the storm rolled onwards over the citadel.

"You're different from the rest of them, aren't you?"

The question took Zero off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You have no idea who I am. You'd been in hibernation for as long as I've been alive. By all accounts, I'm a violent maverick, waging war on your partner's creation. You had no reason to care whether I live or die," he elaborated, "but you did care. You saved me. No one else would've done that here."

Zero said nothing, mulling over his words.

"You have no reason to trust me, either," Craft pointed out. "You know I hate this place. You know what I'm capable of."

It didn't matter much. Zero didn't like Neo Arcadia either. He wasn't sure if he even liked X anymore. It hurt, because he still loved him.

Craft turned around in his chair to face Zero, leaning crossed arms over the backrest.

"You know, they were looking for you. The Resistance," he said, "Even when X went down a dark path, you were still a hero. You were their last hope-"

"I know," Zero interrupted firmly. "...I spoke to Axl, before he…" He trailed off. "He told me X only wanted me back because the Resistance searched for me. X… didn't want anyone having me but him."

Craft tightened his jaw, teeth grit behind his lips. "Ahhk…" he groaned, disgust thick in his stomach.

"I don't know what to think. X isn't himself. He's arrogant, possessive. He doesn't let me leave the citadel unaccompanied. He doesn't let me do anything. It's like he's forgotten who I am," Zero admitted. "I know there are things he's hiding from me. He had our friends slaughtered for 'insurrection', but I don't buy it. They weren't mavericks." Zero looked down to his feet. "He can pretend I'm his equal, saying I'm a ruler at his side, but I've never felt more fucking useless. People are dying, and I can't do anything about it."

The grip Zero had on the windowsill tightened. Craft scanned him up and down again, finding the weapon holsters at his hips were empty.

"You want out."

Zero looked over his shoulder, before throwing his head back and sighing, running his hand up the lock of blonde hair hanging from the brim of his helm. "I'm a warmachine, just like you. But here, I'm just another one of X's pets." The rain started to pour heavier, a fog falling over the city as distant thunder boomed far away. "I don't know. X would never let me go, at least not easily. I think he's had enough of losing me. I'm scared of losing him too but… I think it's too late."

"...It's hard not to just give up, sometimes," Craft said, "I've been fighting for so long, sometimes I feel like… No matter what we do, we can't change the dismal state of the world, so what's the point of trying to fight it? We talk about heroes, why waste our breath? There aren't any heroes anymore."

"...I don't recall ever calling myself a hero," Zero murmured, mostly to himself. After long, he could barely see the skyline behind the clouds. "Craft, how long has this been going on?"

"I'd say it's been decades now. Far too long. It's only gotten worse."

Zero shook his head. There was a lump in his throat, unease seeping through him like cold water through cracks. He tried to vent the anxious tension with a breath, but it wavered and broke on the exhale.

"Sorry for laying all this on you," Zero apologised, "there aren't many people around here I can really talk to."

Craft offered a slight, kind smile. "It's fine. I'm your servant, ain't I? It's my duty to heed your command, even if it's just lending an ear."

Despite their prior conversation, Zero found himself returning the smile. "Thanks, Craft."

"No, thank you."

Zero made a short, huffy laugh. "Right… Well, let me get my affairs in order, how about that?" A crack of thunder made him startle. "It's getting choppy out there…"

Craft looked over Zero's shoulder, catching a bolt of lightning arc across the distant sky. "Sure is, sir."

Zero waved him off. "Spare me. Could you assign my halo-ID on your cloud?"

[Hellooo Zero… Delta-Whiskey-November-Zero-Zero-Zero, this is Craft Kilo-Niner-Echo, if you read squawk IDENT.] Craft waited for the data block response that came soon after. [Already have.]

His mouth was closed, but he spoke clearly through the cloud network. Zero grinned, pleased.

[K9E. I hear you. How's your Reploid Standard? DWN000.]

Craft tipped his head to the side and tightened his lips. [Good enough. X didn't have us use it back in the day.]

[Good to hear. Keep your transponder on speed dial, hear me? Never know when things are gonna go south around here.] Zero returned to the kitchen, swiping his teacup off the counter on the way. "You hungry?"

Craft perked up. "Now that you mention it… I haven't had anything to eat since… jeez, since I left the base to break Neige out. I'm starving."

Zero let out a courtesy laugh. "Me too," he groaned, before polishing off the rest of his now lukewarm tea. "We've sat around long enough, let's get something to eat. Not like there's much else to do right now. We can chat on the way."

Craft finished off his own drink and shot a smarmy smirk Zero's way. "And is that an order, sir?"

"Now you're just taking the piss," Zero put his hands on his cocked hips. "I order you to talk to me like a normal person."

Craft got to his feet. "Alright, I'll cut it out." He made his way to the door, graciously keeping it open for Zero.

It was an odd feeling for Zero- to feel so open and comfortable with someone in Neo Arcadia. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be able to talk about the honest truth without immediate repercussions, and what's more, to have his concerns be understood and even sympathised with. Craft was a complete stranger, and a dangerous one at that. He had long since placed his combat systems on idle, just to silence the threat warning alert going off when he had finished a full analysis on the warbot.

It didn't matter. He liked talking to him. He felt at home with the Resistance Commander. His moxie reminded him of his former maverick hunter days, when he was just another one of the boys, not some ethereal figure bogged down with the insurmountable weight of history. He hadn't ever been privy to such comfort during his time in Neo Arcadia.

"After you…" he gestured through the doorway. "...Sir."

Zero harrumphed, deciding to keep his words to himself. This guy's got some nerve.

He turned back, finding Craft following in his shadow, a chivalrous smile returning his way.

But I think I kind of like that about him.

---

"Uuurghh…"

If he had his druthers, Craft would've slept for a week straight.

Slowly, he rose from his slumber with a low groan, eyes cracking open before squeezing shut again in the harsh morning sunlight.

It was hard to resist the urge to lay back down and go back to sleep, but he had to come to terms with the fact that he wasn't in the Resistance base anymore, where schedules were lax unless Ciel gave him a mission. He was a Neo Arcadian again, and he had to act like one if he was going to stand any chance of staying on their good side while he figured out what he was to do with his circumstances.

With nowhere else to sleep in Zero's living quarters, he had made himself a bed on an ottoman, sleeping sitting upright. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but he was accustomed to sleeping wherever he wanted as a war reploid.

Still, Zero's big, plush bed had him a bit jealous…

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, warding away his lingering grogginess. When his vision cleared up, he realised he was alone in the room.

Craft got to his feet, shooting up to his full height. "Zero?" He called, looking around for a heat signature in his immediate vicinity. There was no reply, nor was there anyone with him in the room. "Oh Scheiße."

Oh right- he had him on the cloud network. [DWN000, uh, where are you? K9E.]

He breathed a sigh of relief when Zero replied quickly. [K9E, this is DWN000. I'm out in the hallway nearby. Come find me.]

Right on cue, Zero's blip blossomed on Craft's radar scope amongst the sea of countless reploid ID signatures. [Thanks, see ya.]

Not one to keep the legendary hero waiting, Craft hurried out the door, chasing Zero's blip on his radar.

He wouldn't be alone for long. Craft found Zero standing by a balcony, looking out towards the city. It had been raining all night, but at daybreak, the weather had cleared up and the clouds parted for the morning sun, its golden light gleaming over the city of Neo Arcadia and glistening on the lingering raindrops. In the early sun's glow, Zero shone in his own light.

"Zero?"

The reploid in question turned, pushing himself off the balcony railing. His big, dark violet eyes could be so hard to read, sometimes- it was like trying to discern what a cat was feeling. "Hey," he greeted. "Sleep well?"

Craft made an unsure hum. "All things considered, yes."

"Did you sleep there all night?" Zero gave him a critical look. "I could arrange a proper bed for you if you wanted, you know."

"I'll live."

"If you say so." He beckoned him down with a crook of his finger. "Kneel down for me real quick, will you?"

Craft bent over, and Zero got onto his tiptoes to brush down his mess of hair with his fingers. He grunted whenever Zero's hands got caught in a knot, but willed himself to sit still and subject himself to the grooming.

"Ow. What was that for?"

"Just trying to make you look a little presentable for Neo Arcadia. If Harpuia sees you like this, he'll never let it go," he answered. "You're welcome."

He let him go, letting Craft stand straight up again. He brushed back his hair, feeling a little emasculated, but tidier. "...I just woke up."

"I can tell. Come," He gestured to him to follow, and he set off, Craft following close behind, still a little sluggish and dazed.

"What's the plan today, captain?"

"...Don't know. All I know is I need to get out of here," Zero replied. When he got to the elevator, he impatiently punched in the down key a couple times. "How about this, let's take a walk together, shall we? X won't mind if I leave the citadel if you're with me."

Craft didn't want to agree or disagree with that assumption. Whatever was going on in X's mind was a mystery to him. "Won't say no to that. Been meaning to ask when we'd get a little fresh air."

"Don't count on it." The elevator doors slid open and they entered, watching the city rush by as they descended.

It was hard for Craft to really appreciate the view. Neo Arcadia was idyllically beautiful- gleaming skyscrapers of ivory grazing the heavens, stretching from horizon to horizon under golden skies. On the surface, such a time of peace and prosperity was an achievement unlike any other, but Craft knew its foundations were laid down upon slaughtered masses. With the blank look on Zero's face as he stared out into the city, Craft wondered if he believed the same. His days as a Resistance commander had told him it was foolish to believe Neo Arcadians of his calibre could be trusted.

"You probably know your way around the city better than I do," Zero mused, stepping out of the elevator when they reached the ground floor. They shuffled through the crowded anteroom. "Show me around."

They escaped into the citadel gardens. Craft took in a deep breath, the aroma of blooming flowers after a morning rain tickling his senses. Zero, on the other hand, was just happy to not immediately get apprehended and sequestered by the Guardians the second he left the tower. "Anywhere you wanna go in particular?" Craft asked.

They followed the pavement through the lush gardens, leaves rustling with the gentle breeze and flocks of sweet little sparrows scrambling away into the trees when they passed them by. Zero thought about it for a moment.

"Anywhere, anywhere's fine," he answered. "Just… let's stay close to the city centre for now."

Craft nodded. "Fair. The city park ain't too far from here." They passed a fountain at the centre of a well tended parterre just before the tower gates, bubbling water sparkling under the sun. "Have you been there before?"

"...No."

The implication of his severe isolation made Craft's blood run cold. Zero had been awake for a couple months now. If he was truly X's equal, he should've at least seen all of Neo Arcadia by now.

The guards at the citadel gates stopped Zero, but let them through after seeing Craft accompanying him.

One of the guards spoke before they could leave. "Where you headed, Master Zero?"

"The city park. My guard's coming with," he replied, "we won't cause you any trouble."

"...Good, Master X would kill us if we lost you. See you soon, sir."

The two guards held their rifles firm against their chest and saluted. Zero tried not to think too much of his comment, walking off without another word.

"Lead the way," Zero commanded, lagging behind to let Craft walk ahead of him. "I'll be right beside you."

With the citadel in their wake, the two set off. Central Neo Arcadia was as stunning from the ground as it was from the air- with streets and elegantly paved footpaths winding through skyscrapers, people sifting by freely on foot and bikes with nothing impeding their way but the tram system that periodically made its way through the main streets. It was densely populated, but it never felt congested. People got around easily, yet the streets remained a place for citizens to live and congregate. Neo Arcadians weren't the type to own personal powered vehicles- most vehicles were property of the state, anyway- and were a people who largely travelled afoot.

It was always Spring in central Neo Arcadia, the smell of sweet pollen and earthy pine wafting in the wind.

Craft walked slowly, letting Zero take in the views. Reploids and humans alike passed them by, some in a rush, some enjoying a slow meander through the streets with their friends. The streets were lined with boutique shops and quaint restaurants and cafes, filling the air with the clean fragrance of floral perfumes and baked goods and the sounds of chit chat and distant light rail.

It was hard for Craft not to dwell on the blissful ignorance of the city's denizens. After years of war, sometimes he wondered if it was right to plunge the innocents back into endless conflict in the pursuit of justice. They stopped at a crossing, waiting for the light to turn green as a tram rumbled by.

"It reminds me of Abel City, in a way," Zero thought aloud in the pause. Through the windows of the tram, children- human and reploid, looked out the window in awe as they passed Zero. "At least, before Sigma attacked."

It was those little things that reminded Craft that the frail, ragged reploid in his care was the Zero- the same Zero that was witness to centuries of war, who fought to right the wrongs that the consequences of his creation had sowed.

Craft shrugged. "Before my time."

Zero winced, awkwardly tucking a lock of his hair behind his helm. "Come on, you're making me feel old…"

The best course of action, Craft decided, was to say nothing more. When the crossing light flickered green, they continued their quiet meander through the city, following the path of an overhead monorail line through the main street.

It wasn't evident to the eyes of a mere civilian build or human, but to Zero's scrutinising, combat-focused gaze, the military and police presence hidden beyond the cosy facade of Neo Arcadia was suffocating.

They stood in the shadows, the alleys and at every corner, watching over the people silently and making Zero's threat detection system blare its warning horns. K-9 mechaniloid units roamed the city centre at the heels of soldiers, their cold and empty amber eyes catching Zero's presence among the crowd and staring for too long for Zero's liking.

"You been to this part of town?" Craft asked, deciding to fill the uneasy silence before Zero got too spooked. Zero huffed an exasperated, but amused laugh.

"What do you think?" he replied. "X didn't want me straying too far. He said it was too dangerous."

Craft could hear the air quotes in his tone. "Yeah right. That's a load of bullshit," he grumbled, "there's gotta be like, twenty cops on this intersection alone."

"I know," Zero assured. He knew X just didn't want him running away, his reasons were nothing deeper than that. "Hey, Craft?"

He made an acknowledging electronic squeak. "What's up?"

"...Doesn't it bother them? I mean, the show of force is so… obscene, even compared to Abel City back in the maverick virus' heyday."

He glanced around, watching bikes race up and down the street, a tram dropping off passengers, workers running late to meetings and mothers and children who stopped to stare at him. There were lines of salarymen and worker reploids at food vendors and storefronts. It felt so normal, but it wasn't. None of this was normal. The foreboding grip of Neo Arcadia's military on the world was so obvious, it was undeniable. "No one even cares."

To that, Craft snickered. "No, not really. Not anymore," he answered. "They just follow the rules without a second thought. Even though entire neighbourhoods disappear overnight. Even if the kids in the outer sectors suddenly wake up without parents one day. It's just a sacrifice that has to be made to keep the peace, to them. Besides, look at these people."

Both the humans and reploid denizens of central Neo Arcadia were sharply dressed, polished to a shine. Happy, well fed, sheltered. They were flourishing in the wake of the catastrophic Elf Wars. They were safe, in X's prison. "They're not exactly raring to give up their lot in life," Craft added.

Zero slumped, feeling a certain despair weighing him down. Complacent humans and reploids… What use would they be when push comes to shove? They would side with their saviour, even if he led them to extinction.

As he mulled over the thought, Craft came to an abrupt stop at a small circular court at the entrance of the city park, setting his hand on Zero's shoulder to halt him mid-stride.

"Hey, could you give me a minute?" Craft asked. Zero cocked his head.

"What is it?"

He pointed his nose at a convenience store. "You got a couple zenny to spare?"

Zero took a moment to answer, taken off guard by his request. "...Yeah, yeah, sure."

He transferred some spare change over to his account. Craft gave his shoulder a light squeeze of confirmation before heading off. "I'll be back in a sec. Don't run off."

Just like that, he had disappeared into the corner store. Without a combat reploid by his side, and with soldiers and policemen surrounding him at all angles, he felt painfully vulnerable. Zero couldn't fight back even if he wanted to, with his body still a shadow of his former self after his long hibernation. He resigned himself to passiveness, finding a bench to sit on around a fountain.

In the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar sight from his past. A popular E-tank bar- a favourite amongst the Maverick Hunters. He could recall his first date with X, when he took him there, touting that they had the best E-tanks in the country. After that day, Zero couldn't disagree with him.

Zero wanted to pay it a visit for old time's sake, but he couldn't bring himself to confront the bittersweet nostalgia it imparted on him. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. X was still a sweet and gentle young man, still kind and unsure of himself. He had still looked up to Zero when they first started their relationship, his hazel eyes still had the light of youth sparkling in them. Now, there was a different man behind that frigid red glare, full of hatred and anger and sorrow.

He slouched forward, looking at the ground. He felt his feelings gather in his tightening chest. He never should've sealed himself away. Maybe he could've stopped X from travelling down a dark path. Everyone he encountered spoke of X's loneliness and grief- the injured king had been consumed by loss until he went mad, the story so often went. The X that Zero used to know would've been a fine king- he was loving, a philanthropist, but he was still firm in his ideals.

Had he not become the way that he was, Zero would have no qualms with joining X's side in his endeavour for paradise. Maybe there would come a time when they were no longer needed, and they could live a normal life, have a family, and leave their past of war behind them. Instead, he fell victim to his own fear, afraid that his existence would only perpetuate the cycle of violence. Zero swore to himself; he should've known better, he should've been less selfish. He knew X couldn't cope with the aftermath of the Elf Wars without him.

Now the entire world was atoning for his mistakes. It seemed it would always be that way, one way or the other. Whether or not he was alive or dead, the world was punished for Zero's very existence. X should've left him in that decrepit lab.

"Zero?"

Craft's voice brought him down to Earth again. He yelped, startled.

"Oh. You're back…"

Craft sat down beside him on the bench, its wooden structure groaning under his weight. "Said I'd only be a second," he said. "Unless you're disappointed I'm still here."

Zero shot him a glare. "It's not like that. I was just… thinking."

"Heh, I'm just playing with you, princess," he assured, leaning back and fiddling with a small carton in his hands.

"Whatever." His larrikin attitude was endearing, but slightly irritating all the same. Zero leaned in to see what he was holding. "What did you get?"

The answer would come quickly when he flicked open the carton and plucked out a cigarette. "Nothing. Just a couple of smokes."

He held it between his teeth as he lit it with a small lighter hidden in a wrist compartment. Zero furrowed his brow. "You smoke?"

He took a long drag before answering. "Yeah. Anything wrong with that?"

"No. Guess not…" he conceded, "it's just…"

"A dirty habit? Yeah, I know," he finished the thought. "I'm not proud of it. We all got vices. Some are just… dirtier than others. You gotta take what fleeting pleasures you can afford in this place."

"...Yeah." Zero looked aside. Craft playfully nudged him with his elbow, earning back his full attention.

"Hey. It was either this, alcohol, or sex. Alcohol was too expensive, and, well… heh. A big guy like me doesn't get a chance to enjoy the alternative all that often."

He shot him a mischievous wink before taking another drag, smoke rolling off his breath. Zero's eyes widened, flustered and incredulous. He supposed he was right, though. Joy didn't come easy to him, either- it never did, but especially now.

Zero didn't bother him after that. It was probably the first time the tired warbot could catch a break for a long time. He just sat and stared off into nothing, letting the sights and sounds the beautiful city had to offer wash over him.

This place…

"It's nice here," Zero murmured. "But… this isn't right."

Craft made a grunt in agreement. "No. None of it is," he responded in kind, "it's a world built on the bodies of innocents. You can't fix that."

Zero knew that now. Neo Arcadia was rotten. Rotten to the core.

---

As night fell over Neo Arcadia, Harpuia and Phantom marched through the halls in tandem, their father having summoned them for a progress report.

It was a process neither brother was unfamiliar with. It didn't have any reason to cause concern- X was fairly quiet during the whole procedure, nodding along and offering prompts when necessary. It was routine, and when compared to all their other arduous duties, fairly mundane.

It was different this time around, for Phantom at least. If Harpuia was feeling it too was unclear, he either didn't care about what had happened to their step-brother, or he was just good at hiding it. Regardless, the last thing Phantom wanted to do was face his father again. He had hidden his fear of confrontation under the guise of working. It wasn't completely false- Phantom would do anything he could to take his mind off things, whether it be research or conducting recon missions. He could ignore the demands of his siblings to speak with them, explaining away his self imposed isolation with the excuse of busyness.

The distractions couldn't absolve him of the things haunting him. Eventually he would have to go to bed, and they would all rise in his mind in the absence of productivity. Eventually, X would demand his presence. He was his father, after all.

Phantom looked at the ground as he walked. From the corner of his eye, he could catch a glimpse of Harpuia's disapproving glare growing colder.

"What's wrong with you?"

Harpuia's barbs went straight through his heart. Phantom didn't know what to say in reply. The truth would only irritate him, but he didn't have the heart in him to lie outright to his phlegmatic brother.

"This is the first time we've spoken in a while, you know," Harpuia derided. "You didn't even reply to Fefnir and Leviathan's messages. Are you trying to shut us out? You never used to be like this with us."

Phantom swallowed his nerves down. "I've been busy with my duties…" he explained himself. "Right now, the less I talk, the better. I can't afford to compromise the integrity of my current missions. Especially with that Resistance commander in our midst."

"Sure." Harpuia rolled his eyes at the sorry excuses. "We're here. Look alive for father."

They approached X's living quarters, stopping at the door. Harpuia scanned himself in, waiting for X to let him in. Several locks came audibly undone and the reinforced steel gate slid aside, granting them access.

It was cold, dark and quiet in X's quarters. The moon's light had been obscured by drawn curtains, and they were too high in the sky for the city lights to offer any compensation. Harpuia entered first, and Phantom followed with ginger footsteps.

X was hunched over his desk, his gaze fixed on a datapad, pen in hand, resting his head on his other. Phantom was surprised to see his father without his helmet for once. His nearly black, dark brown hair had long ago lost its lustre and colour. He had flashes of tan brown in his silvery blonde mane, a faint memory of what once was.

At his side was a stout, lowball glass of dark liquor. Phantom steeled himself for what would come.

"Father." Harpuia took it upon himself to call for X's attention. He slowly rose from his slouch and turned around in his chair, the corners of his lips slowly quirking into a pleased smirk at the sight of his most diligent sons.

"Ah, my boys…" he said, setting down his pen and scooting closer. He gestured for them to sit at the couch. Harpuia did so gladly, but Phantom remained standing. "Good to see you got my message."

"What have you summoned us for?" Harpuia asked, cutting to the chase. X leaned forward, clasping his hands together between his legs.

"Why, I've been so busy with the Resistance lately that I've hadn't had the chance to catch up with you two. I'm sure you two have made great progress with the tasks I've set for you," X explained. He turned to Phantom, who jolted to attention when his father's crimson gaze addressed him. "Phantom, I know you've been tracking Resistance activity patterns for a while now. How's that been going?"

Phantom nods, straightening himself and organising his thoughts. "Yes, father. My team has been working hard with the results we've recorded from the field. We haven't uncovered much yet, but it seems that they utilise a unique translocation formula in their transerver system. I've been trying to reverse-translate what I have but… we don't have the full picture yet. It all looks like an original code, it's like nothing I've seen before. Their base of operations itself… I'm unsure. From what I can tell by their attack patterns, they're either situated all over Neo Arcadia and the Outside Lands, or they're nomadic. Regardless, even if we take care of one, another head of the hydra will just take over." He cleared his throat. He couldn't tell what X was thinking- he was just giving him that blank, unwavering look. "I've… sent what we have elucidated to the war room folder so we can reorganise our forces as needed."

A small silence pervaded the room as X took it all in. When he had gone over it in his head, he nodded and made a curious hum. "Keep at it, Phantom," he said, "no doubt Axl taught those mavericks a thing or two about hiding from me. Say, have you had any luck extracting anything useful from his processor?"

The mention of Axl- his senior brother, mentor and dear, closest friend, made Phantom freeze up.

"N-no sir- we, uh, we've… come up with nothing," he hopelessly stumbled over the response. "I apologise…"

X noted his distress, raising his brow. "Ah. Still sore about him, are you?"

Phantom shook his head vigorously. "No, no, not at all," he denied, "sorry, father. We tried to extract his stored databases, but they had been completely wiped upon death."

X sighed, adjusting his posture in his chair. "Hmph, how disappointing… Well, not much that can be done about that. Don't worry about it."

The pressure lifted, and Phantom exhaled his anxiety. Harpuia's disapproving glare darkened.

"How about you, Harpuia?" X turned his gaze towards his eldest. "How's that recycling centre in the south-east quadrant going? I heard that a few mavericks attacked a turbine generator the other day, broke out a few inmates while they were at it."

"Yes, sir. We've had to reduce our energy output at that facility. Rest assured, we have resolved the issue and deployed reinforcements to that sector to recover the escaped mavericks. Aztec Falcon is running a smooth operation otherwise. That facility has made good work of the mavericks you've sent us. We've maintained a steady capacity of 24 megawatts, despite having to shut down a few generators for maintenance."

X leaned back, swiping his tablet from his desk and rubbing his chin. "How's that reclamation project going?"

Harpuia bowed his head. "Things are progressing well, Master X. We have restored the native Somalian ecosystem of the 22nd century to another 60 square kilometres of the Outside Lands. Fefnir, Leviathan and I are organising our fauna reintroduction efforts. It's a tough process, but we predict it will get easier with time. Hopefully, our geneticists will be able to give us the greenlight to put their efforts to use soon. We're focusing on implementing the lower trophic organisms in our reclaimed lands. The thing is that life has evolved to thrive in this new world, we need to take an appropriate integration of the two populations into mind…"

Phantom knew X wasn't quite listening, just nodding along as his son's sterile speech flowed from his lips, but Harpuia didn't seem to notice or care. "Good to hear. I trust that the Neo Arcadian people will be happy to hear this. It's good for morale." His eyes flickered up from his tablet. "Have you heard anything from that exploration team you sent out to the Rift?"

"...No sir," Harpuia replied solemnly. "Last thing we heard from them were the pilots reporting they were entering IMC. They disappeared off our ground radar. The surrounding aircraft in the Outside Lands' airspace could not make contact. We can do nothing but assume they've gone down."

"Hm. That's a shame," X replied. "Any clue as to what happened?"

"None at all. It seemed like their comms were jammed. If they had entered a dangerous attitude before that, ATC and the surrounding aircraft would've gotten an alert. We've tried investigating if it had been Resistance activity, but there is simply no life out there who would have conducted such an attack," Harpuia explained. "Our intelligence satellites show nothing noteworthy. Subterranean scans didn't help either. It could've been a fault with their comms system, maybe a meteorological phenomenon. Maybe a four-dimensional attack by some rogue cyber elfs. We just don't know, and we won't know unless we find the ship's data recorders."

X pursed his lips. "I see," he droned, "as much as the loss hurts me, I can't find any reason why I should risk losing more soldiers and resources on a recovery mission to the Rift. Not right now, at least, when I've got a maverick problem to worry about. But thank you, Harpuia."

Phantom had let his mind drift in a bid to escape the situation at hand. His name coming from X's mouth ripped him from his reverie.

"Phantom, lend him one of your reconnaissance drones. See if they experience the same comms error," he asked. A fairly innocuous question, but it had Phantom's soul feeling cold with trepidation. "Maybe I'll send a unit out there on foot."

"Y-yes, father."

X eyed him for a moment, eyes flittering back and forth in thought, before he let it go. Phantom hoped there were no deeper intentions behind that critical stare. "Good man. Oh, and Harpuia, do me a favour, will you?" His voice grew hushed. "Both of you, actually. Keep an eye on Zero and his maverick pet for me, will you? The last thing I want is that turncoat tainting my Zero's mind with his asinine ideas. Or worse still…" he didn't finish his thought, but Harpuia and Phantom could guess.

After a harsh pause, X's smile returned, and he leaned back in his chair, exerting a much warmer energy. "If that's everything, you two are dismissed. Get a good night's rest, both of you." He set his tablet aside. "Oh, one more thing. Harpuia, send Fauclaws and his unit to the Southern sector cargo centre this Wednesday. They've been strapped for resources lately, with all the new development going up there. We can't afford to have another maverick siege on that line."

The brothers both stood at attention, heads held high.

"Yes, sir!" They chanted in unison. X dipped his head, before turning around and returning to his desk.

"Good night," was all X left them with before losing himself in his work again. Harpuia and Phantom took the hint and took their leave, letting X work in solitude. From the corner of his eye, Phantom caught a glimpse of X refilling his tumbler of whiskey.

Only once they were out of earshot, alone in the dark, empty corridors of the citadel, did Harpuia make his feelings known.

"You… You are seriously making us look pathetic, Phantom!" Harpuia swivelled around, glaring at him with equal parts anger and embarrassment. "This is shameful. We can't keep covering for you in front of father. You can't keep agonising over Axl! He was a maverick, what part of that don't you understand?!"

Phantom couldn't hold it in anymore. The quiet reploid let his emotions erupt.

"Shut up, Harpuia!" He exclaimed, fists tightened until they were shaking. "I just don't know what to do anymore! All I want to do is make our father happy, but-

"-Are you doubting father? Have you forgotten what he's done for us, what he's done for everyone?! You can't just turn on him because of one maverick. Are your principles that weak, or are you just so selfish? We can't be selfish."

Phantom shook his head, gritting his teeth. "Axl was our brother. He was our family! He taught me everything. When he was with us, everything was good… dad- he ruined everything when he chased him away! And now he's dead. Our dad murdered him."

Harpuia's nose scrunched up in a mean snarl. "It was not a murder. It was an execution. An act of justice."

"What difference does it make? He's dead. Who's to say he won't turn on us next?"

"That won't happen as long as we continue to follow our orders," Harpuia growled. "Look, Phantom. It's our duty to protect the people, no matter the cost. It's what we must do to ensure a free and prosperous world. That was the purpose of our creation."

"Following orders without question… What freedom do we even have? This isn't what I wanted."

There was a tense miasma taking hold as the two brothers' hearts grew ever distant. Harpuia harrumphed, turning away. "I never thought you'd be one to question Neo Arcadia's virtues. Where is your patriotism? Tread carefully, brother," he warned. "I won't let father know about this, but if this continues, I'll have no choice but to report your behaviour."

Phantom didn't know what else to say. He wasn't sure if he was angry or just tired. He just stared right through Harpuia.

"That bitch, Zero, he's messing with your head. Don't let him get to you," Harpuia reproached. "Mavericks are the enemy. Don't forget that."

There was nothing either could say or do that could salvage the damage done. Harpuia outstretched his wings and took off from a balcony, disappearing into the infinite vastness of the night sky.

Phantom was left lingering in his own doubts, his uncertainty stirring at the pit of his chest. For all his life, he had lived to appease his father. He had done everything he ever asked of him without question, thinking father knew best, and that everything he did was to protect Neo Arcadia from the maverick plague.

But now, it was obvious, even to him. This was no longer about fighting Mavericks anymore.

---

The sun had yet to rise over Neo Arcadia. Craft was awake earlier than he had any right to be.

It had been a couple days now since he was sentenced to a duty of servitude. Life was dull, monotonous and routine. Though he was in the lap of luxury and in the midst of legends, Craft failed to find any fulfilment in his new surroundings. He was safer here, as a Neo Arcadian servant, than when he hunkered down in the Resistance bases, but he was unequivocally not in his element amongst the oligarchs and warlords.

The clear skies over central Neo Arcadia brought him nothing but grief. Cloudless days meant airstrikes.

Craft stared into nothing, unable to get himself back to sleep in the early morning. It was cold in Zero's room, it always was. Craft had been cold ever since he returned to the citadel. Before him, Zero was asleep in his bed. He tossed and turned every so often, restless in his slumber.

Without his armour, he looked as vulnerable as a doll. Though he looked older, he still had such a fair, soft face while retaining a certain ferocity and ruggedness about his features, neither masculine or effeminate, but both at the same time. Locks of golden hair unfurled around him, his thin limbs splayed out. He had thrown off his sheets in his toils.

Craft was no stranger to the grandiose stories spoken of the legendary hero. As swift as a hawk, as cunning as a fox- he could take down opponents three, four times his size with a single swing of his blade. He, with X, his other half, saved the world from a maverick scourge time and time again. When the fight for justice called, Zero answered, no matter the circumstances.

After decades of suffering under their so called 'saviour's' rule, Craft came to loathe the idea of heroes, but even he couldn't deny what Zero was to the people. He was a hero, at least, he was once.

It was clear that the hero that he used to be had been suppressed and buried, suffocated into silence and obedience by X.

Craft had only been amongst the two for a handful of days, but he had already seen everything he needed to see. Zero was good at keeping up the act, but even he managed to slip at times. It was little things. Zero made little effort to seek out X. If they ever spoke, it was on X's volition alone. He would never look him in the eye when they talked. Whenever X's name was said, Zero would grow quiet and distant.

It stung to see such a proud warrior being treated so cruelly. As long as Zero remained here, he would be forced into acting as another one of X's pawns. Even someone with a spirit as strong as Zero's would break one day. Knowing that the two most revered reploids of the past centuries had been relegated to this made it hard for Craft to hold onto the hope that anything could change.

He was staring out the window when he was stolen from his thoughts by the sounds of Zero murmuring in his sleep. Craft sharpened his audials and got up, overcome with concern for his master.

With light footsteps, he made his way over to Zero's bedside and kneeled down to his level, checking up on him. Zero was frowning, his body tensed up and his hands twitching into fists. Whatever he was saying was coming out as incomprehensible, but nonetheless disturbed mumbles and whines.

A nightmare. He had a thought to wake him, his hand hovering over his sleeping body, but he hesitated. Should he?

It was still so early. Waking him up while he was in the middle of a nightmare could make things even worse if he emerged agitated and disoriented. Craft swallowed down the pit in his throat and pulled his hand away.

"Nghh, g-get away from me… mmph."

He sounded so conscious, Craft instinctively backed off, afraid he was speaking to him. He quickly came to the conclusion that Zero was still asleep, his delirious speech slowly getting louder and comprehensible with his growing distress.

Zero's face scrunched up and he grit his teeth, fingers clawing at the bed sheets.

"...X, d-don't."

Those words, whispered with such gentle trepidation, was enough to send a chill down Craft's spine, his skin crawling under his armour. He took a sharp breath - he couldn't stand letting him suffer like this for much longer.

He set a firm hand on Zero's shoulder and jostled him lightly.

"Zero–"

Zero jolted awake immediately with a gasp, thrashing and striking at anything he could dig his claws into in a blind panic.

"S-stop! Get off me!" he screamed, his violet eyes were wild, filled with both anger and terror, trying to muster up all his strength to push Craft away. "Stay away from me!"

"Z-Zero, it's me," Craft took a hold of Zero's shoulders and held him at bay before he could hurt himself. "It's me- Craft!"

For his first few waking seconds, Zero could barely understand what he was saying, nor could he really tell what was and wasn't real. All he knew was an uncontrollable fear that presented itself as primal aggression. As he slowly returned to his senses, he came to realise the root of his terror had been left behind in his dreams, and he was safe in his own bed, in a room far from the assaliant of his nightmare.

"Oh… Craft, it's just you…" Zero murmured, staring up at his guardian with a tired, glassy stare. His voice was thin and high. He let himself relax, loosening his shoulders and unclenching his jaw, letting out a long sigh. He was safe. Especially in the shadow of his massive protector. "...Must have had that dream again."

Craft didn't know quite what to do with his hands, still placed on Zero's shoulders. He had remembered how gently he held and comforted Neige through her own moments of fear.

He could still feel him shaking. Craft gingerly set a hand on his back, and when Zero didn't object, held him in a loose embrace. Zero steadied his breath, resting his forehead against Craft's chest.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

There was no immediate response. Craft clenched his jaw, hoping he hadn't overstepped his boundaries. After all, they were still little more than strangers.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," Zero cut him off. "It's a nightmare I have often." His mouth was dry. "It happened centuries ago now, long before the Elf Wars. There was an… accident, with the Maverick Virus, when Eurasia first fell. It invaded my body and mind, it drove me to turn on X. I… I went mad, I lost all inhibition. I couldn't think, all I knew was my creator's mission for me- to kill X. I still remember it so clearly. It keeps coming back, again and again…"

Craft felt his heart beating in his throat. He gently stroked his hand across his shoulders. Zero gritted his teeth, and Craft could feel him push his head harder against his chest, trying to hide his anguish away from everything.

"The worst part is… I had never felt so happy, so in control. Striking him down in my dream, it was fulfilling, tearing him and his world apart. It was what I was made to do." He shook his head. "But it isn't what I want. I don't want to hurt him, I never did. I loved X. I still do. It's just…"

Zero's train of thought trailed off. "Complicated?" Craft guessed.

"...Yeah."

Craft knew that feeling. "Well, love is complicated, isn't it?"

That got a soft laugh from Zero, and Craft felt the weight lift from his shoulders. He scooted away from Craft's grasp, sitting up against the headboard. "Damn that Doctor Light for making everything so complicated, then."

They shared a short, quiet chuckle that dwindled quickly. Zero slumped down again, threading his fingers through his hair. "...Thanks for waking me up."

Craft shook his head humbley. "It's no problem. Just doing my job…" he assured. "Master Zero."

His lips twitched into a smirk, and Zero huffed with amusement, but his smile was short-lived. He breathed out, settling the tension in his body.

"We should get back to sleep," Zero suggested. "It's still early."

For a moment there, neither spoke, just sitting together in silence and taking in each other's presence.

"...Yeah," said Craft.

They sat there a little while longer, before Craft finally shuffled off Zero's bedside, sitting back on the ottoman he had made a bed out of. Zero curled up in his bed. He let out a long, deep exhale, and went quiet again.

He was at peace again, at least for now. Still, Craft was stricken with the dull ache of guilt. Even in sleep, Zero was a tortured soul, tormented by his unwavering ties to X. Though they had only lived together for so long, Craft couldn't stand to see the legendary reploid live inside his own hell, in constant fear of Neo Arcadia's king.

When he saw Zero at rest, the hero of halcyon days so incredibly vulnerable, he felt the same intense sense of duty in his heart that came over him when Neige stood at his side.

---

To most anyone, Dedicated Reploid Residential Complex 029 of South-East Sector G was nothing but another uninspiring and unremarkable landmark in Neo Arcaria's industrial districts.

From the outside looking in, it was just another concrete apartment block in a sea of dreary concrete architecture, built for function- and even then, only just barely functioning- and a complete absence of form and aesthetics. It was surrounded by an electrified barbed wire fence, and the apartment block was guarded by a revolving troop of Neo Arcadian soldiers, watching over the reploids living within the complex at a watch house by the gate. Unlike the pristine city centre, a cloud of pollution seemed to permanently hang above the outer-city slums, the air was dry, stagnant and thick, and the mercury could climb to 40°C on a cold day. Municipal services were sparse, clean water was hard to come by with the canals running dry, and the power supply was capped at a weekly limit, only running from 9am to 5pm.

It was no place for humans, which is why South-East Sector G was selected for reploid public housing. The only outsiders who would visit were the military, and even then, patrols would only come by every week or so.

It was nothing special, and that was why it was so important to Ciel. Far from the prying eyes of X and his lackeys atop his ivory tower, this apartment complex stood at the intersection between the Resistance and Rebellion movements.

Dusk had fallen, and Ciel made her move. She knew humans weren't permitted in the industrial sector, both for their own safety and to ensure they didn't unearth any ugly truths about Neo Arcadia. It was fortunate then, that Ciel was unlike any other human- more machine than man, well versed in reploid tradition and their extra-dimensional network language, and she could effortlessly pass as one to the untrained eye.

The guard standing duty at the watch house was half-asleep. The security force of Neo Arcadia's military was hardly a threat compared to their primary core. Ciel stepped off the single tram that stopped at the complex every night and approached the gate's entrance. She had a cloth wrapped around her nose and mouth, partly to hide her identity, partly to quell the rotten stench of sulphur in the air.

"Excuse me."

Ciel was stopped at the gate. The reploid standing guard tonight was a gaunt and gangly man, his eyes sunken in and dull. There was little doubt that he was a drafted civilian build forced into the job. "Your purpose for visiting?"

"Visiting friends and family, sir."

"Callsign and model number?"

"Callsign: Sky. Model number Golf-Seven-Echo-28-02-65. \1 . X X\." Ciel answered.

The guard glanced at a monitor, then opened the gates.

"Curfews are still in action from 10pm onward," he reminded. Ciel nodded.

"I won't be long."

The guard harrumphed, his head dropping and shading his eyes under the brim of his helmet. Ciel scrambled between the gates, disappearing into the apartment's court, away from the surveillance of the security guards standing at their posts around the perimeter of the fence.

There were a few denizens about the outside recreation area. Young reploids sat at concrete benches and old tires, whispering gossip to each other and going silent when Ciel passed them by, their vacant, glowing eyes tracking her every movement like an owl watching a mouse. There was a basketball court drawn into the ground with chalk, and a hoop with a shattered backboard.

Most had already found shelter inside from the toxic plumes of industry. Ciel entered the lobby, finding a few reploids crowded around an old, tiny television as it broadcasted the evening's football game. They paid her no mind, only one young reploid, maybe a teenager at most, turning to notice her.

When Ciel had first left the RIAOT for the outer sectors, she often found herself wondering how any of them could stand this. Eventually, she grew numb to the shock. Everyone had to get used to it. What other choice did they have?

She went up the fire escape. The elevator in the left hand side of the building didn't work. In fact, it hadn't worked in a decade.

Her destination was unit 338 on the third floor, the second last door in the hallway. When she knocked on the door, its occupant cracked open the door, cautiously peeking through the gap. When he saw who it was, he opened it further and let her through.

"Well, well, if it isn't the good doctor!" The occupant greeted her kindly, though not without the hint of derision, swiftly shutting the door behind her. "Boss has been looking forward to seeing you again."

The occupant appeared as a tall equine animaloid with dark navy armour, a ruby visor and a flowing, silvery blue mane. His voice was high and smooth, almost sauve, if not for the sting of ugly arrogance it carried. Inside, there were a few other reploids sitting at an old couch, forced to cram together inside the tiny unit like sardines. The horse reploid whisked her away from the living room.

"Sorry it's been a while. I've been busy, these days," Ciel apologised, following the equine animaloid down the hall and into a bedroom. Inside, there were a few decrepit bunk beds and a large, heavy locker. Ciel closed and locked the door behind her, silencing the outside commotion behind the thick layer of steel. "I could hardly find the time to come here."

"Ah, I can imagine," the equined sympathised. "Don't sweat it, we can manage." He jammed his hand between the lockers and the wall. "Gimme a hand here."

Ciel did as asked, and they pushed aside the locker together. It revealed a trapdoor, fastened shut. The equine undid the combination lock, pulling it open and revealing a small, hidden room, obscured in darkness with only a flickering blue light providing a dim lightsource. When they entered, the equine pulled the lockers flush against the wall and shut the trapdoor.

"Switch over to the cloud?" The equine offered. Ciel nodded.

[This is Ciel-Golf-Seven-Echo. You hear me?]

[Ciel G7-E. Loud and clear, Dynamo Mike-Three-Sierra.]

Dynamo's equine newtype disguise dissipated, revealing his native humanoid form. He flicked his hair back with a flamboyant flair. [Phew, it's nice to let my hair down once in a while. Boss is in the lab.]

[Got it. Thanks, Dynamo.] Ciel scanned in her biosignature, before she gave the lab doors a soft knock.

[Ah, would you look who it is. Thought you'd never come, doc. Come in.] The lab's occupant opened the doors for them, granting them access to another dark room, lit up by a blue tinted lamp and the sparks of a welding torch. The sole occupant was hunched over a crafting table, bits and pieces strewn across its surface and the floor. There was a mosaic of documents stuck to the walls, from maps to battle plans to lab protocols.

He appeared as a dark purple canine, artillery connection sites decorating his thick plated armour and revealing his status as a heavily armed warbot. When Ciel and Dynamo walked in, he set aside his tools and swivelled around in his chair.

[And what's brought you to these parts, Ciel?] said the canine, his fangs bared in a sardonic grin. Ciel knew not to be offended or threatened- that was simply his default expression. [Cerveau make a special something for me or what?]

[Not quite, but I do have something of interest for the Rebellion. Neige managed to smuggle out some datafiles from Neo Arcadia's Deep Archives.] Ciel answered, drawing a data upload cable from a forearm compartment. [You're gonna wanna see this. This is big. Bigger than anything we've seen before.]

Ciel found the lab's operating console and plugged in her upload cable, transferring a copy of her latest intel reports over to the main drives. Dynamo rubbed his chin as he watched the cascade of files appear on the large monitor, impressed by the sheer size of their data yield.

[Good to see the favour we did for Neige paid off.] the canine said. [Talking about favours, we've got something special in the works, I think you bleeding hearts in the Resistance will thank us for it.]

Ciel gave him a discerning stare. [Enlighten me, Vile.]

There was no point in disguises when his two most trusted compatriots were the only ones in the room. Vile left behind his animaloid disguise in a flurry of refracted light, assuming his original helmeted form. He gestured at what he was working on.

[See this? Optimised for blowing apart thirty inches of concrete and rebar.] Answered the warmachine. [The first Rebellion, those utopian nutjobs, most of them are long gone now. But not all of them. We've got word that a certain someone's locked up in the high security prison by the North-East sector, an old friend of Epsilon's, and I've got a feeling he's not gonna be too fond of X. I know you've been working on some energy solution for a hot second. I'd say you'd be interested in what Supra Force Metal can do for you.]

Ciel raised her brow. [Supra Force Metal…]

The record showed that it had all been destroyed following the Redips incident, in fear of its continual misuse and general maverick-genic property. It was scarcely understood at the time, and papers from then offered little useful information for Ciel to work off of, so she ignored it in pursuit of other avenues… but this could prove to be a game changer- a source of continuous and rapidly renewable, clean energy.

[See, you get access to Supra Force Metal, we get a super-powered reploid who hates X's guts. All we gotta do is break him out, and that comes naturally to us.] Vile rationalised. Ciel tightened her lips, leaning over the console as the upload took its time.

[You know what? Do what you want. I can't stop you.] Ciel half-agreed. The upload concluded, and Ciel pulled up a few files of interest, beckoning Vile and Dynamo over. [Anyway, come here, take a look at this.]

Vile leaned in closer, completely silent as he went over schematics and a long and expansive list of maintenance logs. It was hard to tell what he was thinking without that smirking muzzle to give Ciel a hint.

[An orbital linear particle accelerator-type direct energy weapon. Ragnarok, hey?] Vile read aloud. He stood back, crossing his arms, and took in what he was seeing. [Great. This is what that Craft guy kept going on about, isn't it?]

[Yeah.] Ciel confirmed. [I've been chipping away at the decryption here. From what I can tell, it looks like an old Weil project that the Neo Arcadian government has co-opted as its own. It's still in active use, but it hasn't been fired, other than a few test shots aimed away from the Earth.]

Dynamo cocked his head. [And why exactly would the honourable boy scout X keep this thing around?]

He was being semi-rhetorical.

[Seems to be an anti-ICBM measure, at least, that's their reasoning. The thing is, 'anti-ICBM defence' implies that there are other countries that can possess them, much less fire them, and that just isn't true. Sure, there's settlements out there, but it's not like they have access to weapons of mass destruction. Even the old 20th century ICBMs were long since decommissioned.] Ciel explained. [It has a remote and in-situ control centre, with the in-situ control centre taking priority.]

[So, let me get this straight. X can just go and bring an orbital laser down on us whenever he wants?] Vile assumed. Ciel nodded slowly.

[Yep.]

[Well, shit.]

Vile tapped his finger on his crafting bench, before absentmindedly jostling his weapons parts around. [Lemme guess. You want us to blow it up.]

[That would be ideal, but… I know it isn't realistic.] Ciel replied. [Even if we combined our forces, I doubt we'd have a chance of getting very far with it. We hardly scrape by as is.] She looked at the ground, leaning over the console. [I know you want to take down Neo Arcadia, and I respect that. But my main goal is to save these people from X's rule, but I can't say I've brought them asylum in good conscience if their lives outside of Neo Arcadia are under constant threat of Ragnarok.]

There was a pause as they thought through their next words. [Well, I know one of us has first-hand experience bringing down space stations.]

His eyes were hidden, but one could tell Vile was giving Dynamo a mischievous glare. Dynamo waved him off, tutting.

[Come on. I had Sigma helping me out back then.] He retorted. [I'm good, but I'm not that good. Trying to take this thing down with what we have right now… the only way we have a chance of doing anything worth jack is if we can turn Neo Arcadia's people against X.]

Vile nodded, before tapping the monitor. [But this… this could be good ammunition. Sure, there's gonna be a few pathetic sycophants who won't care what X does as long as they get to stay fat and privileged, but I doubt the people are gonna be happy knowing their 'perfect' king is harbouring a weapon of this scale. If we can incite a substantial enough, city-wide revolt, they'll be forced to spread their forces thin, and then we can see if we can do something about Ragnarok.] He tipped his head aside. [We could probably do something to disconnect the remote control centre, but I'm gonna guess that the in-situ centre's gonna be a problem.]

[Right. I tried to get coordinates to its control centre, but they've got spatial folding inhibitors blocking our transerver range. Looks like the in-situ control centre can only be operated by an authorised few.] Ciel lamented. [And everyone in the Resistance who could've possibly fit that bill is either dead, comatose or MIA. So…]

She shrugged, feeling the cold sense of defeat. [The good news is that if we destroy it, Neo Arcadia couldn't possibly have the resources to build another one.] Dynamo pointed out, always trying to be the optimist. [If I could get access to this thing, I could probably break it apart in orbit by letting the accelerator run away for long enough. That'd mean I'd have to initiate the firing mechanism, though.]

He rubbed his chin, going through scenarios in his head. Vile threw his hands up in an admission of uncertainty. [Well, not much we can do about it right now, not until we bulk up our forces.] Said the warbot. Ciel felt a tinge of guilt- she couldn't help but feel responsible for everything that had happened lately. The downward spiral of things had all seemed to spark from Zero's botched recovery mission, and both her Resistance and Vile's Rebellion had experienced disastrous losses following the foiled operation. [But I won't take this news lying down. Never have, never will.]

Vile's voice darkened, and he made a fist. [I'm planning something big, Ciel. I will not rest until these people see what I see, know what I know. I've already seen X's precious nature, his dead kin, bleeding dry. And when I'm done, the spineless drop kicks and deadbeats of this shithole nation will finally understand me. They'll regret ever having doubted me.]

His fist shook with the force he gripped it with.

[They'll have no choice but to admit I was right. They called me a monster, but there's a monster in X, too. It'll come to destroy him… with or without my help.]