"10:40. All set up?" Ubuu spoke nonchalantly into his earpiece. He mixed in quite well with a group of humans and Galactics alike, sporting a baseball cap, and a trenchcoat. The light rain that was beginning to make its presence known proved to be nothing more than a small nuisance, easily overlooked by the press, who were gathered to watch the event unfold.

"Done and done," 17's voice came back through the distortion of static. Ubuu denied himself the urge to look in the android's direction, and merely moved to the middle of the crowd. He brushed shoulders with a few individuals, careful not to let his strength overpower someone and give himself away. The smell of cigarette smoke and wet concrete hung in the air like a noose, sealings its grip on him as he let the familiar senses be taken in.

The platform at the front of the crowd was rather ornate, a feel-good attempt by the Galactics to make themselves appear more grandiose in the presence of a "weaker" species. A tall canopy soared overhead, draping the stage with its insignia of the Galactic flag. Not surprisingly, it was a deep midnight blue, with a pair of pupil-less eyes in the very center, surrounded by four orbs that were meant to represent the four quadrants of the universe. The fabric that had once flapped noisily with the subtle breeze was now hanging limp, heavy with the rain droplets that were soaking into it. It was upheld by four enormous stone pillars, erected at each corner of the stage, angling down as it came to the front of the outcropping. A tree stand of lights were set at each side, and showered the podium with effulgence. As was the case with all public announcements, a group of high ranking officials sat at the backrow on stage, looking rather bored. There were five of them, Ubuu noted. From left to right, he could only match a name to a face for a few of the aliens, but the one on the farthest right side grabbed his attention. He froze.

"We have a problem," he whispered, making a move with his hand as if he was wiping his mouth. Couldn't take too many chances with so many enemies hovering around...

"Explain." 18's voice now. He was still unaware as to where exactly she was positioned, but it was no doubt at a point where she could keep an eye on both 17 and Ubuu.

The prodigy of Goku straightened up, adjusting his cap as he spoke. "Far right, panel of officials."

"Heh," 17 snorted. "Maybe I should just take him out instead..." Ubuu smiled, despite himself. However dangerous it may be, he loved the general "hell or high water" attitude that the androids delivered. It was quite the confidence booster. Luckily, he was their point of balance, so to speak. Someone had to be realistic, and it might as well be him.

"No," the fighter said quickly. "Stick to the plan. Last minute changes equal last minute screw-ups." He waited for a moment, then continued. "Got it?"

"Of course." 17 didn't sound too enthusiastic. Ubuu could care less. He didn't need the android deciding on any kind of on-the-fly improvisations when it came to things like this.

Particularly when J'erah himself was present.

The sense of unease had abruptly returned. The darkened warrior began to lightly crack his knuckles. They sounded to him like the snapping of bone by someone's hand... The ritual was only performed when he was anxious, though he was often unaware that he did so. However, right now, he was aware of even the most minute of details. The ringing of the cell phone playing "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" behind him. Crying baby in a stroller on the sidewalk a few meters down. The man smoking a cigarette on his right. The shiver of the cold globules of rain as they hit his face. But most of all, the disconcerting feelings of fear bubbling inside of his stomach.

He was afraid. And filled with hate.

The reincarnation of Buu began to squeeze his teeth together viciously. After all of this time, the pain was still fresh. He remembered the scene like it was yesterday. He envisioned the silent shock of the Z warriors, Goku's cry of pain before his life was ended with a low gurgle, and the wet clap of his body slamming lifelessy into the mud. J'erah had killed his mentor, right before his very eyes. Ubuu had heard it said before that time heals all wounds. So did vengeance. And Goku would have his. It took everything that the fighter had to stay exactly where he was- he would wipe that god awful smirk from J'erah's face...

Calm yourself. His own voice within. Now. He suddenly took a deep breath, filling up his lungs with oxygen, and holding it there. The anger was fading slowly...

Ubuu released the air, and sighed audibly. That was the quickest that he had been overtaken by rage in his life. Usually, it was a gradual progression, where an end event had to break him before he lost all resolve. Here, his madness had nearly occurred after just a few moments. Apparently, this long forgotten foe had awoken a righteous indignation buried within....

The leader of the resistance had never encountered J'erah since that fateful day- it was better that way. The Galactic was no doubt still much stronger than him, even after all of his training. Ubuu would rather them not meet until he was sure he could finish the job right. Goku and Gohan's legacies demanded that much. But until then, he knew that he would give anything for just one shot at the monster...

Suddenly, the applause of the public around him threw his train of thought off track. A Galactic official was straightening his uniform, and approaching the podium. The announcement was about to begin.

Ubuu reached for his earpiece. "Look alive, robots." He knew they hated the particular nickname, but it sure had its way of getting their attention. "And remember, robot is a term of endearment," he quoted their age-old inside joke.

"I'm on it," 17 responded, all business now. Ubuu could hear the whirring hum of the KI rifle underway in the background of the fuzzy reception. The sniper began to mumble incoherently; the sign that his innate hunter's instinct had taken over yet again.

"Speak your speech, I pray thee..."

--------

"And so it begins," J'erah muttered to himself, a slight smirk written across his face. "How do you feel, doctor?" He cast his piercing gaze upon the younger scientist, Dr. Derhat, who was shuffling his feet nervously back and forth. He was a bit of a wiry fellow, his black disheveled hair coming down upon his blue face like a child's doll. The small wire-rimmed glasses he wore continued to slip from the bridge of his nose. As always, he was dressed in his labcoat. Hard to believe that he was one of the more brilliant and becoming minds that the universe had to offer.

"I feel good," he responded, not sounding like it. "I'm not too good in front of crowds. The last time I gave any kind of speech, I kept bumbling around foolishly, and-"

"I don't really care to know," J'erah yawned. "I was being polite." He rolled his eyes and waited, as Senator Fergus was approaching the podium. He began to run the end of his finger to trace the scar on the right side of his face slowly... The evil Galactic could feel someone out there, watching him right this instant. It was a rather intriguing feeling. He let his eyes skim over the crowd, attempting to make some kind of contact with anyone he could. None dared to look at him. He didn't blame them.

If he was the one setting up an assassination attempt, he would avoid eye contact, too. The only question was: Which one out here would be the assailant?

J'erah knew that he was putting Dr. Derhat's life on the line, but it didnt really make much of a difference to him. The scientist was valuable to their society, yes; but right now, he cared more about drawing forth and crushing the members of the Wayward. In the long run of things, that would be more invaluable than any single visionary, genius or not. This was war- there were going to be casualties.

The young intellect was under the supposition that this meeting was an announcement in which he would present the new Centurion models that he had designed and programmed to be far superior to their predecessors. That was only half true. While that indeed was what he was going to introduce to the crowd, its purpose was actually unknown to him: providing bait for the resistance. J'erah smiled. They were sure to bite. Now, he could only watch and wait.

"...I gladly present to you today," Fergus continued his monotonous drone into the microphone. J'erah sat up slightly. Had the Senator already began? Ha. He had hardly noticed. Fergus's voice was a mixture between a low hum, and a hollow resonance that was sure to bore even the most attentive viewer to a doze. Elites included. "Dr. Derhat!"

The public gave their brief applause, as the young scientist made his way forward ever-so-timidly. Databoard in hand, he stepped to the microphone, and it made a brief squeal of disapproval. He reered his head back, and put his finger in his ear while it continued to make the high pitched squeak. The crowd followed suit. A second or two of screeching ensued, and finally died down. Only the sound of the now harshening rain remained. He leaned forward and began, after making sure that it was safe to do so.

"Good morning."

-------

"Indeed."

17 flexed his fingers, rubbing them back and forth over the trigger as he gazed below. He scanned the stage, letting the scope run over each figure seated along the back. The android rested on the one known as J'erah. This would be the perfect opportunity to take him...

But he needed to go for the scientist first. The man with the knowledge in his brain to release the Centurions, machines of death, had to be stopped. And he would die at 17's hand.

A small smile formed across his lips. It had been awhile since he had felt any kind of rush similar to this. It was a waiting game, an endless dance that was only satiated when he finally released the trigger.

The 17th floor of the IS (InterStellar) Bank proved to be an ideal observation point for the android. He had arrived there the previous night, and drilled holes into the ceiling with sealed weights above that would be enough to holster his biomechanically enhanced frame. It was a sling that rested uncomfortably across his buttocks and groin, branching off in two sections that cradled his shoulders, and then raced to the ceiling. From this vantage point, he had placed a small hole large enough for the barrel of the KI rifle to ease into just above the window. For any human, hanging upside down for an extended period of time would have caused a dangerous amount of blood to be rushed to the brain. But for him, it was different. He enjoyed the challenge.

He used his feet to push himself forward a few inches, and angled his body slightly so that the scope was more in line with the angle of the viewport rim- that way no one from below could see it. Rotating the electronic scope one hundred and eighty degrees, the small screen before his eye flipped upside down, and provided him with a "normal" image that would be easier to aim with. He didn't necessarily need it, but he loved making use of the various bonuses at his disposal. His hair was pulled behind his head in a small pony tail so that it would not get in his way. Below him, an old cup of coffee sat on the metallic deskframe of the office he was residing in. During the night, he had spent his free time heating up the liquid with ki, until the steam of the aroma flowed into his nostrils. After that, he would wait for it to die down, and then proceeded to do it once more.

Getting into the building hadn't been much of a problem. It was more of a waiting game, really. He and 18, dressed as lift mechanics, entered the lift chute to perform their various touch-ups on the building's system. 17 much prefered the new system of floor transportation in comparison to the elevators of older times. The lifts were much more energy efficient, and a hell of a lot faster. Once inside the chute, the androids had raced their way to the bottom, and cleared out a small tunnel that ran below into the ancient subway system. Waiting underneath a pile of "rubble" was a small speedy transport that would take him to the next rendezvous point. Sure, he could blast his way out of there- but he wanted to live through this. After arranging the escape, they negotiated 17 into a small crevice near the seventeeth floor. He particularly liked the pun. On her way down, 18 "accidentally" removed the wire that operated the company motion detectors at night. It would be a few days before they even noticed. Once the lights were out, the enhanced human made his way through the offices, and found the perfect spot for a snipe.

The coffee smell was growing faint again. Outside, the rain drummed in a gentle pat, pat, pat on the viewport frame. Each droplet slid down with agonizing slowness, magnified a thousandfold in the scope. Though he normally didn't appreciate such details, the android raised an eyebrow as he observed the water molecule. Through this filter, he could find beauty, and actually appreciate it. Maybe he wasn't so much of a robot as he thought...

"All charged?" 18's voice sounded amplified in his earpiece. He jumped in his place, and nearly dropped the gun.

"Please don't do that, I'm concentrating," 17 growled.

She chuckled. "Just asking, brother dear." He grumbled a few curses, and looked down at the gun sidearm holstered at his hip. It was another KI sidearm, with a small input device running from it into his arm. Through various outputs of research, 18 had actually discovered a small power outlet within their own designs, and rigged up a handy little trick that she had thought up herself: using their nearly limitless artificial ki reservoir to allow the sidearms to tap into. That way, they didn't need recharging, and could actually fire off rounds at higher speeds. It was very convenient. He had to give credit where credit was due...

"He just did it," Ubuu's voice informed them. A sound of applause was lightly roaring from below. 17 peered back through the scope to find that the crowd was cheering, and the scientist was trying to calm them down.

"Did what?" He rotated his body slightly, and pulled the gun close to his shoulder.

"Announced." The warrior's voice was very light; the sound of the clapping and shouting around him was nearly deafening in comparison. "Centurions to start production in a few weeks. Ki and possibly- according to our sources- artificial ki tracking..."

17 narrowed his gaze. "Is that possible?"

"Apparently so," 18 breathed quietly. She was probably near the entrance of the building. For some odd reason, she liked her whereabouts to be a secret. "Elton patched me some files that show that they think they're on to an actual device that could actually locate the production of artificial ki... But he didn't mention that in his speech..."

17 was puzzled. "Wait. They think?"

"Sounds iffy," Ubuu noted. "Something like that I think he would want to broadcast."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too." 18 sounded a little suspicious herself.

Either way, 17 knew that a contraption that could track them did not fare well for either of the two rebels. It had to stop with the scientist. "Alright, this guy's toast." He lowered his aim, bringing the scope on the villain's magnified forehead. He could see every little pore, the beads of perspiration that conveyed a phobia of speaking in public. Typical lab rat. The android swung the crosshairs to a small pimple in the center of his blue frontal skull bone...

"Wait," a voice rang through the other end of the earpiece. 17's finger was inching the trigger back...

"Ubuu, I'm kind of busy killing something right now."

"I think it's a set up, we need to back out," Ubuu sounded urgent.

"Oh?" He squeezed the trigger slightly, felt the mechanical click that told him he was on the edge of the firing threshold. "Make your point, I'm liking him less and less..."

"That's exactly what they want you to do... I suddenly don't like this anymore."

"17, I think Ubuu's right," 18 chimed. "Notice the lack of security?"

He had noticed it, actually. Cared? No. Right now, all that mattered was wiping Derhat out before he found a way to do the same to them. Even if it was a set up, he could still execute the good doctor, and maybe even J'erah... It was worth a shot.

At the edge of his vision with the eye that was not focused on the scope, he could see the darkened warrior retreating back slowly through the crowd. He was being very discreet. The rain was louder now.

Ubuu came in his earpiece again. "17, listen to me. I think that Derhat didn't mention the artificial ki trackers in his speech because they don't exist. They know we have hackers snooping around, so they plant some false ideas in our head, hoping that we would show up to teach them a lesson. They know that the "non-ki" bandits are what's really giving us our leg up on the competition... He's the lure, 17."

"Probably doesn't even know it, either," 18 threw in her own opinion. 17's finger held its position.

"So you're saying he still doesn't deserve to die, device or not? I don't buy that. These bastards killed your husband and daughter, 18." He was met with silence on the other end.

"17..." Ubuu was angry now.

"17's out," the android stated. "Leave a message." He clicked off his earpiece.

And pulled the trigger.