Chapter 1:

The roar of an engine echoed throughout the desert as a dusty, beaten-up, black and crimson motorcycle zoomed along the faded, crack-filled tarmac. Zero's face was full of wind as his hands squeezed the handlebars, eyes always forward.

He had become accustomed to this feeling for the past months. Especially ever since he found the bike. It served as his ride, his Godsend, his only companion in a world gone crazy. The bike was the one thing that kept him alive and kept him going throughout the long days that had come after leaving Ciel and all of the Resistance.

The day had started like any other: Wake up after a horrific sleep, break down what little camp there was, and ride throughout the land searching for fuel and energy. Other than that he always found himself doing one of two things: Watching, or running.

Out of the two, Zero had done watching the most. It was the one choice that didn't involve conflict. As for what he watched, it usually remained the same: Chases and attacks against those who couldn't fend for themselves, at least not to the level of their attackers. He would often find himself at the small end of a pair of binoculars from a safe distance, watching the horror going on. Then once it was all over Zero would enter the abandoned battlefield, searching for any spoils that had been forgotten in the chaos. After collecting what he could find, Zero would leave, and never look back.

The second of the two things was running, he didn't do this often, but like watching it always ended up the same way. A group of raiders would drive up to him in their vehicles (be it bike or car or truck) and try to run him off the road. Despite their efforts, Zero would always either outrun them, or run them off the road with help from his Z Saber, or buster.

This was his daily routine. Lather, rinse, repeat. Day in, day out. The days blending together, repeating like a broken record.

After riding the abandoned highway for a majority of the day, he was now scouting out for a safe place to set up camp. The sun was starting to slowly disappear over the west, and turn from yellow to a light shade of orange.

He hadn't found much today; only some abandoned vehicles, with little or no fuel in their tanks. This would pose a problem for him. Being a reploid, he got his energy from the same fuel that powered his vehicle; so whenever he found a form of energy he would split it between himself and his vehicle. He could've conserved energy by prolonging his rest, but that could cause internal damage to his system if not carefully monitored.

Zero thought about these things as he rode through the land, he also thought about the resistance, more specifically Ciel. The girl that had awakened him from his slumber six months ago never left his thoughts, he often thought about if she and the other members of the resistance were still alive.

They're fine Zero would tell himself. It was for the best if he stayed, they'd be dead because of him. It's good that they didn't have someone like him with them. A warrior, a fighter, a protector…

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of an engine behind him. He was all too familiar with this sound, and he knew what it meant. Sighing silently to himself, he slowly reached for his buster and he looked into his mirror to see what he was up against.

An old beat up, olive green pick-up truck appeared over the horizon, accelerating along the road and showing no signs of stopping. When he looked in the windshield, he could make out two figures behind it, one was a man with brown hair and determined look on his face, the other a woman with long black, and a look of desperation and fear.

Zero had dealt with vehicles like this before, he figured he could either outrun them, or he could use his buster or saber to cripple the truck. His hand soon found his buster in his holster, he gripped it and prepared for the worst.

The truck was getting closer, and closer. Never slowing down. Zero got to the opposite side of the truck on the road. Ready to for the driver's attack…

But it never came. He saw a flash of green, and the back of a truck filled with what appeared to be fuel drums in front of him, and then it raced down the road. Once the truck passed, Zero pulled over to the side of the road, puzzled.

Well. This was unexpected. Usually, when Zero encountered another vehicle, a chase would ensue. But the driver of the truck just passed right by him as if he wasn't even there (not that he was complaining). He remembered that determined look in the driver's eyes as if they were glued to what was in front of him, and nothing else. Wanting to ignore everything that was behind them.

As if they were running away from something…

Soon the sound of an engine came from behind him once more, only now it was slightly louder than before. Without thinking twice, Zero revved up his bike; and accelerated along the road once more. He then looked into his mirror and saw his suspicions proved right.

Four vehicles were speeding along the road from behind. One a dusty dirt bike, with a just as dusty rider covered in leather. Then there were two beaten up sports cars, one black with the engine exposed over the hood, the other a faded shade of red.

But the one that stood out among the group was a humongous red truck. It's front prongs stood out like spikes, and the slightly exposed engine roared like a lion. It had two wheels in the front, and four in the back. On the sides of the front near the driver's side were small blue canisters that were each connected to a hose that led to the main engine. Finally, at the top of the truck stood the exposed driver seat. As for the driver they had black hair with a small stripe of red; a pair of goggles covered their eyes, and covering their mouth was a tan bandanna.

The driver of the truck accelerated alongside Zero's left. He could now see that behind the driver's seat was a small truck bed; in it were two figures dressed in torn up rags. There was a mounted crossbow in the truck bed as also, which one of the two grabbed on to it and took aim at Zero. But Zero was fast, he grabbed the buster off his holster and pulled the trigger. The man manning the crossbow was launched back and then fell back-first onto the faded pavement.

The driver looked back after seeing a human-like shape fall off the side. When they saw the body on the ground, they strangled the steering wheel in rage; and began to shift the truck to the right. Zero saw the truck inching closer to him, and acted fast. His hands squeezed the brakes as he came to a screeching halt. The truck shifted to the right, nearly going off-road. The driver fought for control of the vehicle as its front tires dug into the sand. The bandaged soldier in the back was tossed around the truck bed The truck went a few feet down the road, but that didn't stop it.

The driver of the black car had seen what had happened and sped up alongside he swaying truck. From the rolled down window came a set of hand gestures towards the driver in the truck. The truck driver through their hands up in anger, but a held up hand from the car calmed them down. The driver nodded reluctantly, and gaining control, zoomed further down the road.

Zero watched the two vehicles speed ahead of him. They were most likely going after that truck from earlier. That just left the biker and the other car for Zero.

The faded red car came up from behind Zero. The driver revved up his engine and bumped the red bike's rear wheel with his front. Zero felt the car and revved on the accelerator. The red car followed behind him, wanting another chance to get the red biker. Suddenly, he saw the red biker pull something from his belt. He was up to something, but what? Then a glowing green sword appeared from the biker's hand. The car driver was shocked. What the hell was that thing? But before he could figure it out. Zero stabbed the sword directly into the grill of the car. Smoke started billowing from beneath the hood. The driver fought for control, as the car swerved from side to side.

The leather coated biker rode alongside Zero. He pulled out a rusty crowbar and swung it at Zero. The red reploid swerved his bike away, just barely avoiding the crowbar. The biker moved his bike closer to Zero and swung again. Another miss. Zero pulled forward and revved up his bike. The dirt bike zoomed up to Zero's side; the biker preparing another swing. He brought the crowbar down but suddenly felt it stop. He looked and saw the red biker had grabbed the crowbar mid-air and was now gripping it tightly. The dirt bike driver tried to pull it back, but it was no good. Zero yanked the crowbar from the biker's hands, causing him to lose control of his bike. The bike turned over, and the driver was crushed between it and the ground.

The driver of the car was still fighting for control of his vehicle. He was so focused on it that he didn't see the fallen dirt bike along the ground until the biker had gotten the bike off of himself, and looked to the car in horror...

The bike was in pieces, which went everywhere, the biker was tossed in the air, and landed on the hood of the car, obscuring the driver's view. That combined with the smoke-billowing engine caused the red car to run off the road, and flip over. It spun round and round, and finally stopped; metal dented, glass broken, and smoke still coming from beneath the twisted piece of metal that was once was the hood of the car.

Zero pulled over and watched the car wreck occur. Once the car stopped, he drove his bike over to the wreck. The biker's lifeless body lay on the ground. Some of the leather had been torn off, revealing exposed wires and machinery. There was no denying that this man had been a reploid. But Zero paid no mind to that as he searched the pockets of the jacket. He pulled his hands out, empty. Worth a shot he thought to himself. He then made his way over to wreck and heard a dripping noise. He looked towards the sound and saw a dark patch forming in the sand. "Great" Zero grunted in annoyance. The only fuel he had found, and he'd lost it.

Then he remembered the green truck from earlier. They had barrels in the back of their truck. Maybe he could stop them, and convince them to trade for something. And if they weren't interested in trading then… Well, Zero would do something; but he wasn't sure what.

The only problem with this was the two other vehicles that passed him after the green truck. He wanted to deny it, but he knew somehow that they were linked to the truck. Nonetheless, he had nothing else to do; so he got back on the bike and began to ride down the road.

He accelerated further down the road, hoping to catch up to the green pickup. Soon he could make out three vehicles ahead of him. The green pickup was trapped in between the massive red truck, and the black car. Not wanting to get involved, Zero began to break gently and pull over to the left side of the road.

The man in the back of the truck took hold of the crossbow and fired an arrow with a rope attached to the end of it. The arrow pierced through the driver's door, and the red truck shifted to the left. The pickup was pulled to the side by the rope. The rope was pulled harder and harder until the door was yanked from the truck. The driver, whose leg had been pierced by the arrow, went flying out. As the green pickup swerved, and then came to a stop. The truck and car pulled up to the side, and two raiders came out of the car, ignoring the driver laying on the broken-off door. Once they were out another door opened, a large, muscular man stepped out. He wore black shoulder pads and leather pants. He had a dark red mohawk upon his head and a stern look on his face

Zero pulled over to the left side of the road; and hid behind a large rock in the sand. From there he watched as men in tattered clothes get out of the vehicles and forced the woman out of the pickup. She was then forced down on the ground. However, one of the raiders looked back into the pickup and reached in. When they came back out; Zero could see something squirming in his hands. He pulled out his binoculars to get a closer look at what it was; and once he did, he was a little surprised.

A small girl was trying hard to get out of the grasp of the raider. She looked no older than six, had black hair, and wore a tattered shirt and pants. Must be that woman's daughter thought Zero.

The girl was dropped by the raider and looked up. She then saw her mother; and crawled to her, shaking with fear. Both mother and child held each other close, each thankful that the other was safe. Their little reunion was short lived though, as the driver from the truck had taken off the goggles and bandanna; revealing an angry woman's face.

Now that they were in full view, Zero could see the driver's full attire. She had a brown leather jacket with the right sleeve cut off at the elbow, black pants that went just an inch below her thighs, and a pair of worn out combat-boots. She looked to about her early-mid twenties. When she stepped forward towards them, the mother and her daughter looked up in terror.

No one noticed the man on the ground slowly come to, and look upon them.

After what felt like a millennium, the mother spoke up:

"P-please, we don't want any trouble; w-we just want to leave-

"The gas" grunted the woman in the jacket, "now."

The raiders yanked the mother up and pushed her towards the back of the pickup.

"The gas, hurry up!" they stammered.

The mother climbed to the top of the truck bed and began to move the fuel drums over to the tailgate. The raiders were all facing the pickup, so none of them had noticed the pickup driver silently start to move over to them. He slowly pulled a large, silver blade out of his pocket, and began to move closer towards the woman.

"Don't do it". Zero murmured silently to himself. He had been in enough fights to know how one could potentially turn out. The man (who Zero assumed was the little girl's father) was only one, the raiders outnumbered him by three, plus the mohawk man along with the black and red-haired woman and whoever else was in the car. That, and his leg had already been punctured by the arrow. It would be better just to walk away, or to wait until the raiders had left.

It was what Zero always did in situations like this.

It wasn't until the man was inches from the woman, that the little girl was able to see him. When she did, she looked up in shock, amazed he was still alive.

"P-papa?" she stuttered

Suddenly the woman turned around and grabbed the man by his shirt, causing him to drop the knife. She then pinned his body against the side of the pickup. The mother looked up from the truck bed and saw her husband. She immediately jumped off and ran towards him, before being held back by the man in the mohawk man.

The woman took her hand off the man's shirt and then grabbed his neck, squeezing hard. The man opened his mouth, but only short, gurgling sounds came out; begging for oxygen to calm them. A wicked grin appeared on the woman's face. Enjoyment filled her up as she watched the man suffer. Then she placed her free hand across the man's eyes and began to force his head to turn. From the man's neck came unnatural noises that sounded like bones cracking. The man felt his head turn unnaturally; he tried to scream, but the came out were tiny, cracked wheezes.

The girl saw the man struggling, and squirmed out of the raider's grasp.

"Papa, no!" she wailed as she ran over to her father.

But before she got there, a snapping noise echoed around them. Then the man fell to the ground in front of his daughter. Eyes empty, and not a breath from his mouth.

The girl woman broke free of the raiders and ran alongside her daughter. Both looked upon the man who had cared for them, had saved their lives, who loved them dearly. Tears began forming in both their eyes. The mother gripped her daughter, closely; letting her weep into her chest while she shed her tears silently.

The raiders around broke into hysterics, laughing wildly at the scene before them. It was as if to them someone had been telling a joke, and just delivered the greatest punchline ever. The mohawk man simply just stood in place, the same stoic expression never changing.

Meanwhile, the woman looked upon the lifeless man in pleasure. She always loved doing things like this. It was as if she had found a new drug that fueled her up, and left her wanting more.

She walked up to the mother and daughter. She reached a hand down towards the little girl and yanked her up by the shirt. The mother tried to hold on, but it was no good. The woman brought the little girl up to her face."Mmmh!" The girl whined as she was brought closer towards the face. The woman's sinister grin widening on her face the more the small girl struggled.

Before she could do anything, the sound of a motorcycle revving up came from behind. They all looked behind them and saw a red motorcycle drive past them on the dirt from the side of the truck. The driver briefly made eye contact with the girl and woman, and went around the green pickup, and got back onto the road, before riding away.

The woman dropped the child and screamed loudly; before running back to her truck. "Come on, come on!" she shouted to the other raiders. Starting her engine, ready to pursue the lone rider.

"Resna!" came a stern voice. She stopped and looked towards the mohawk man.

"Don't bother with him, we've already accomplished our task" he simply stated.

"NO!" shouted Resna. "No one gets away from me Barris, NO ONE!"

"It's not part of the mission, our orders were to find the stolen fuel, and bring it back; along with the thief who took it."

"I'm in charge of this mission, so what I say goes; I say we find that biker, and gut him!"

"We're already low enough on fuel as is, and we don't know how long it'll take to find him" stated Barris. "We could potentially go through all the fuel we just got back. And all for what, some miserable biker?"

Resna seethed in anger. She knew Barris was right. It could take a long time to find him, and her master was not keen on being wasteful. She narrowed her eyes towards the red bike riding away. By now it seemed that he was almost invisible, he was so hard to make out.

Resna sighed in defeat, then turned to her raiders.

"Load up the fuel, then put those two in Barris' car." She grunted. The raiders nodded and began moving the fuel to Resna's truck. The mother and her daughter were forced up, and into the black car. The small girl looked back at the seemingly shrinking bike. She looked back, hoping he would turn around; but he just kept getting smaller, and smaller, before she couldn't see anything at all.

She sighed to herself as she sat in the car. Her eyes were getting droopy, as she slowly lowered her head into her mother's lap. As she slept, she dreamed. She dreamed of her beloved father. She dreamed of what would happen to her and her mother. But the one thing she did dream about was that biker, and one the question that plagued her mind while thinking of him.

"Who are you?"

Moonlight shone over the desert, as Zero had finished setting up his small camp. He sat just outside his tent, reminiscing over the long day he had. All the while, he was sipping slowly on an E tank.

These things had been around before even he was created. They were used to power up reploids, and to keep them running. They were generally made from energy crystals but could use oil as a substitute.

Yes, E tanks were definitely a good way to keep reploids up and running; which is why it was unfortunate that this was Zero's last one.

Zero knew he needed to find fuel fast, and was mad at himself for missing out on the opportunity to get earlier that day. He had failed to get any of the fuel from the vehicles he wrecked earlier, and the green truck that passed him.

Maybe you could've if you had helped out those people.

There it was again, that nagging voice from inside that always came about whenever he avoided conflict; like a parent teaching a child a lesson for being bad.

It bothered him every time he heard it; not because it gave him a headache, (though that certainly didn't help matters) but because it was right. He could've helped out those people by fending off the raiders. And if he did, who knows? They might have given him a share of their fuel.

And maybe that girl's father would still be alive.

He cringed at this thought. Zero didn't have any problems with killing reploids as long as it was justified by them attacking him. But he never killed the innocent. It was an unspoken code of honor that he had applied to himself.

But he was not responsible for that man's death, right? It was that woman's fault. She was his murderer, she killed him in cold blood.

While you just stood there and watched.

Zero sighed to himself; held up his E tank. He smacked the bottom of it, trying to get out any remaining fuel left in there. Once satisfied, he tossed the can away.

Forget the man, and forget his daughter too. He had much bigger things to worry about than some little girl and her family. He needed to find fuel, and find it fast. If he didn't then he would surely end up dead; he was positive that he didn't want that. Right?

Zero pushed these thoughts out of his head, as he closed his eyes.

The sun shone brightly in the morning, waking Zero up from a horrific sleep. Once he was awake he broke down what little camp there was. Then he got on his bike and began searching for fuel and energy.