This chapter's a lot shorter than I'm used to writing but I don't have all that much in mind for this right now. Well I actually do, but the problem is arranging them all properly since I've been pretty much winging the plot of all my stories so far and I've come to realize that while it's all good when you're writing a one-shot, it's far from ideal when working on something solid. I might do a rewrite of this and the Spider-Man story or just try and get them on a specific track, I'm still iffy about it.

Anyway, join AizenTheGoat's server. It's constantly active and it's filled with skilled writers and avid readers of fanfiction so if you're looking for help or ideas, this is the place for you. The code is: mwfFpeYkJm

And join MADB's Overseers as well. It's smaller but filled with fanfiction enthusiasts like Radiator, VeilSlide and the chairman, IamMADB as well as consistent writers like AmusedLight, McCreedy and kfbanime so if you're looking to rub minds and cook up a good story, I recommend joining here. The code is: zBQrUADkeb

The Overseer had joined his homeworld's army with the aspiration of eventually becoming a pilot. However, it had only taken a month of testing before he had been rejected: his knowledge failed to make up for his abject lack of aptitude for flight. A deep fear of heights, impaired vision and poor hand-eye coordination had convinced everyone that he would fly himself and others to doom and waist deep in civil war, there had simply been no time or resources available to train the untalented but his wealth of knowledge had seen him relegated to a less active task: repairs and analysis.

One might have considered it a decent compensation but for him, it was little more than a bitter insult. To watch others live his dream and tidy up the aftermath of their actions was a bitter affair that embedded in him a deep resentment for every single pilot he met. A resentment that had ceased to leave him, even as he now served as the Overseer of the ship port of Skillenis but in spite of wishing death on every fool who exited their hangar bays and cockpits, he still longed to hold the steering of a spacecraft in his hands and dart through the blackness of space.

And as he had watched the ship lower itself onto the landing pad amidst billowing dust and rippling air, its entire frame seemingly shivering from its own weight, and finally complete its descent. It landed as smoothly as any other would, but its legs dipped just a bit too low, bent just a bit too far, took just a bit too long to halt. What an old spacecraft, he thought to himself.

Carrier-battle hybrid ships like this were what had birthed his interest in spacecrafts; he remembered seeing footage of its kind soaring through the vacuum of space to convey soldiers and supplies from world to world back when he was a youngling. Large, fast and strong, the sight had awed him back then and he had pictured himself viewing one with his own eyes or better yet, entering it.

But as he moved the surveillance drone around the old spacecraft to examine it in person, he saw that it was none like he remembered it to be. It bore the scars of battle and years of constant use, even nearly half a century since the war ended and although relatively well maintained, what was old was old. Its once bright paint was faded and peeling with one end completely blacked out and many parts had visibly gone though extensive repair if not outright replaced with more modern components. Its once modest artillery had been swapped out for heavier weapons that stuck out so blatantly they looked like eyesores compared to the greater frame.

Each notable difference pricked at him and by the time his examination was complete, his cadaverous face had paled further and his sunken, grey eyes shook in their sockets with anger. A veteran of war in its prime now reduced to an old hulk of metal and outdated technology, its perfect build being mutilated and disfigured in a cruel attempt to force it to keep up with the times, to be of use in battles it had no business taking part in. A ship like this should be left to rest in a hangar, its old beauty preserved, not being flown around.

And as much as he hated what had been done to the once beautiful spacecraft, he hated its pilot even more. The fool who failed to see the value of what he had and saw no issue in destroying it to suit his own purposes.

His attention had initially been drawn to the ship because it's pilot had been caught murdering a Trologorphian, albeit in self defense, but had also been discovered to have recently been registered as a criminal for being an alleged accomplice to a treasonous Tamaranean and another who had supposedly escaped Gordanian custody. Even more so, a group of criminals who had arrived to hijack it had all been killed by what appeared to be duplicates of the pilot, one Uzumaki Naruto, and fearing the extent to which security measures had been taken, he had been requested to examine it himself.

And so far, he had seen none. The duplicates were nowhere to be found but invisibility didn't equate to non-existence and after giving the order for a respectable distance to be kept from the ship, he had opted for a more…personal scan from an equally safe distance so as not to have the drone destroyed.

"Have there been any updates on Uzumaki Naruto's location?" The Overseer inquired, his voice a gravelly rumble reminiscent of falling rocks. He wasn't pleased about how information of the boy's wanted status had reached the underworld before him but he wasn't particularly concerned; there would be competition but he had the entire planet's authority under him.

"Negative," his assistant replied, his eyes never leaving the holographic datalog emerging from his prosthetic eye before pulling up a short video to present. "The last known recording of him available shows him altering his physical appearance before exiting the booth and there have been no other footage of an individual bearing resemblance to the two images available so far."

The Overseer watched the footage of the murder and subsequent escape in contemplative silence as his mind began to work. At first, he was confused. Uzumaki Naruto looked so much like a human, he was almost convinced that the boy was one of the few sojourners from Earth who found their place in the greater universe. But he had never met a human who could move that fast; he switched places with his attacker almost instantaneously and his blows struck hard enough to break the insect's chitinous exoskeleton.

Either Uzumaki Naruto was in possession of technology or a substance that granted him the ability to alter his appearance and gave him enhanced physical capabilities or he was a member of an undocumented species. Eitherway, he found it very interesting; physical alteration on the level he saw was almost impossible without extensive surgery and he wasn't aware of any device capable of it that was small enough to conceal on one's person, nor did he know any substance capable of amplifying a person's physical capabilities instantly without immediate drawbacks.

And on the other hand, shapeshifters were rare. So rare that the lack of competition meant that they could amass great wealth in any area with demand for their ability, both legitimate and illegitimate. Assuming they weren't captured for experimentation first, of course.

It didn't take long for greed to rear its head in his thoughts. How much would he make if he were to sell the technology? Or better yet, if he were to confirm the boy as a shape-shifter and a self-replicator, he could auction him off to the numerous organizations and individuals on the never-ending search for new species with unique abilities. And if he could get the Tamaranean too…not to mention the ship…had he lips, he would have licked them but instead, he clasped his hands together, the reedlike digits locking in place as they made contact.

"He got stabbed," he remarked. "Have genetic samples been recovered from that booth?"

"Yes, sir," the assistant replied. "Testing and matching is still in progress."

"And have the tracking beasts been dispatched?" He asked.

"Positive," his assistant replied again in a low, metallic hum. "The beastmasters say they have begun following but the scent's strength suggests Uzumaki Naruto may have already covered a large distance."

The Overseer frowned. That didn't sound possible, it had barely been half an hour since the murder took place. "I see. Continue to upload this information to the quiet net…and add an incentive for his live capture. He can only go so far with the entire planet hot on his heels."

"Confirmed…" the assistant went silent for what felt like minutes as it created, populated and uploaded several files to various databases. "...what action shall be taken pertaining to the ship?"

The Overseer focused on his assistant's projection from which information in the form of symbols and numbers streamed across and around the projection, always monitored, always documented, always processed. He had long since forgotten what his assistant looked like before the numerous argumentations morphed it into a grotesque amalgamation of wiring, cogs and machinery emerging from flesh and orifice, all concealed by a long flowing black robe. The few moments it didn't spend plugged into the port's central system was spent on following him around to relay and remotely process information in real time.

A painful existence, he was sure, but an efficient one too and for that, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Show me the recording of his duplicates; perhaps I can glean something useful out of it," he ordered. The assistant complied wordlessly and in under a second of surfing, the characters were pushed out of the screen and he was watching footage of Uzumaki Naruto's clone in action against the group of four that had sought to steal the spaceship.

He had witnessed many fights at ports and most of them always had a buildup of sorts. Most times, they started with an argument in which tensions rose until blasters began to rise. Sometimes it was an individual sneaking around in order to catch another off guard as he was leaving or entering his ship. Sometimes it was two people seeing each other and resuming whatever fight against each other that they hadn't had the opportunity to finish. The common thing was there was often an indicator of impending conflict, however brief it was.

But not this. There was no indicator of a fight to come, the Trologorphians had only gotten a few meters within the ship with an almost lazy gait—obviously expecting no resistance—and the violence began quickly and explosively.

The first thing he noticed was that the clone moved fast. Trologorphians were far from the strongest race in the universe but their multiple miniature eyes made it such that they processed information much faster and consequently, possessed quicker reflexes than most others. It was this genetic boon that made them extremely quick with firearms and a formidable challenge in melee combat

And yet, the first one's death had occurred so quickly he, as well as the other three only realized their partner had been attacked when the clone that The Overseer hadn't even seen appear, pulled what looked like a diamond shaped knife out from between its head and abdomen and had begun rushing towards the remaining that had already drawn their firearms and begun shooting.

What surprised The Overseer even more, was that the clone was able to actually weave out of the way of the deathly projectiles and deflect a few as well. The beastmaster's theory of the boy having already gone far didn't sound as implausible anymore. However, the clone didn't withstand the bulletstorm for long before another clone appeared behind them and embedded a knife in the head of one before and swiping the knife sideways, tearing its head open as it yanked the weapon out.

The two clones continued their onslaught against the pair of Trologorphians that put on an admittedly good fight against obviously superior opponents; with the element of surprise gone, they were able to avoid blinding fast attacks before they connected and attempted counterattack via firearm and blade. The clones were visibly faster and much more skilled but the insects' reflexes and the advantage of four arms helped them hold the clones in what The Overseer considered to be a stalemate.

And then the third clone appeared.

The Overseer was just as surprised as the two trolohorphians when a third Uzumaki Naruto blurred into view with his knife poised to stab. To the Trologorphian's credit, he was able to barely avoid the thrust that would have spelt his death. The fight continued but one more Naruto proved one too many and it didn't take long before one lost his life via a knife to the neck and eye and the other was encircled by the three yellow haired men with an arm dangling limply.

One of them moved to grab the insect, probably for an interrogation but another clone seemingly yelled something and they made to leap away just as The Overseer caught a glimpse of what looked like a grenade followed by an explosion that rocked the ship. By the time the flash of light disappeared, he saw a large dark blotch on the side of the ship's hull and two scowling clones with bits of the blown-up insect on them.

The third clone was nowhere to be found.

"Assistant," The Overseer called. "Replay the footage and reduce its speed by two."

"Yes, sir." The holographic video shimmered as it was reversed but soon, The Overseer was watching the entire fight again. Several parts were still blurry, indicative of the speed displayed by both sides but he had an easier time following the video until he got to the part he had been waiting for: the explosion. It was gorier in slow motion as he watched the insect's body slowly come apart but at the same time, he saw the third clone get caught in the flash of light and when the light seemingly reached his waist, he…vanished?

"I see…," The Overseer murmured to himself. "I see…" So they weren't permanent. They were copies of him, but not necessarily separate entities of their own: if they were, he would have seen its remains instead. A corporeal holograph perhaps? He had heard rumors of technology capable of making solid holograms and although he couldn't think of how a boy who couldn't afford anything other than a relic of the past could get his hands on something like that, it made more sense than anything else he was capable of coming up with at the moment.

They could get to the ship. Whatever other defenses were there, they could find and disable. But first they had to get past the clones. It would be difficult, but it wasn't impossible. They could get rid of the clones but first they had to lure the clones out. And he knew just how to do that.

"Assistant, upload the footage to the net as well and put out a reward of a hundred thousand credits for each clone killed," he commanded.

"It will be done, sir," the assistant droned. Another half-minute was spent in relative silence save for the hum of the assistant's mechanized body and the sounds of documented arrivals and departures on the numerous computers and cameras in the large chamber that was The Overseer's office.

"It has been sent, sir," the assistant said finally. The Overseer barely acknowledged his words save for a slight nod. "A small group is making their way towards the docks, sir. Shall I grant them access?"

"Grant unauthorized access to the docks for eight hours," he said but paused. "No, make it four. And extend a notification that anyone who attempts to tamper with a ship other than Uzumaki Naruto's will be promptly executed."

"Yes, sir."

The Overseer clicked something deep in his throat as he watched the cameras. Just as he expected, people were already beginning to move towards the docks. For now, they were only a few: the individuals looking to take the risk of facing the clones for the money but soon, more would come. The money would be too tempting and the ones who showed up after, would do so with the intent to overcome with numbers. They would come and the time limit would ensure that they came fast.

He had no idea how many clones the machine could produce or the extent of their abilities but he was certain it could only make so many before it ran out of power and if it was connected to the ship's power supply, any other defenses would most likely be weakened, if not shut off completely as well and when that happened, the ship would be his to take at his leisure. All he had to do was wait for the people to show. Many of them would die, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Who cared how much he'd have to cough out for the people who managed to achieve it? A few millions was a drop in a pond compared to how much he would recoup when he resold the Tamaranean alone. The ship aside, he turned his attention to the other problems facing him.

Finding Uzumaki Naruto was the real problem. The fact that both his initial appearance and the one he switched to, hadn't appeared on any cameras or drones, meant he could change his form freely. That, coupled with his speed, meant he could be anywhere and look like anyone at the moment. He took little comfort in knowing that the boy was constantly being tracked: if he maintained the pace he moved at, the beasts would always be far behind.

But then again, he had to leave at some point, didn't he? He doubted someone harboring a fugitive would want to stay in one place for too long, especially a port world directly under the federation. Sooner or later, he'd be forced to make his way to the docks and when that time came, he'd be waiting. But until then…

"Scan every location and route Uzumaki visited and took since leaving the docks," he ordered.

The half-machine's eye glowed bright blue as it scoured data buried under gigabytes of new arrivals. Eventually, it pulled up a list of locations and a neatly charted path to his last known location. "Uzumaki Naruto was shown visiting two repair shops and a hardware center."

"Find and interrogate the staff and keep an eye on the other vendors," The Overseer said. "When the samples come out, attach a colour code to it and switch the camera views to find and match the colour code. If he's still bleeding, we'll find him."

The assistant stared at him in a manner that made The Overseer believe he would have made a comment if he still had the organic impulse to do so. Perhaps it thought his orders were unwise and there was a better way, perhaps it even thought he was a fool for hoping a blood trail would be enough to locate a shapeshifter. However, he merely hummed static as he relayed the order to the officers within the respective vicinities.

That done, The Overseer turned his attention onto the Tamaranean. The course of action was dependent entirely on whether she was able to resist or not: Tamaraneans were among the fiercest warriors known, up in the same rank as Thagnarians and Kryptonians back when they were still in the business of conquest. If the girl was awake, there would be far more losses after the clones were taken care of.

But the fact that Uzumaki saw it fit to add extra security likely meant she was in no condition to fight for herself, which was good. "Notify me when they get past the clones. I will handle the remainder from there. But for now, go back to monitoring the systems."

"Yes, sir."

The Overseer heard the familiar click and whirr of the assistant plugging himself into the system followed by the monotone of data flow. Uzumaki Naruto could run but he couldn't hide forever. At some point he'd have to cease and fight and when he did, he would eventually fall into their hands. His hands. The boy would make him a quite wealthy man indeed.

And when it was relieved of all its defacement and returned to its former beauty, it would make a fine addiction to his collection.

….

Naruto, who had managed to steal a communication pad from an individual who had been tailing him to rob him, had only just figured out how to power it on and was still celebrating his technological achievement when the memories of his fallen clone rushed in. He frowned disappointedly; Kakashi would have made fun of him for getting caught by something that basic, but mistakes happened. Oh well, at least there were still two around to hold the fort.

And as the pad booted completely, the notifications began rushing in. Upon clicking them, he was quickly greeted with a stream of information in the form of rewards, status reports and attached to them all were videos and images, all of him. And the latest? They had been tasked with killing his clones.

Pain stabbed the side of his head as visions of people he'd never met attacked him, filled his mind. The last thing he saw was the panicked face of his last remaining clone, as if it had realized what was about to happen.

"Shit."

Later, yo.