"Hey look! Boba Fett walks amoung us!"

Cruel laughter followed this cliche joke.

Ignore them, Skysheen (or Vile, as he was now called) thought to himself with an inward rumble of contempt.

"How was life inside the Sarlacc's stomach, Boba?" Another jeered.

They're only kids... Vile coached himself.

"Any luck tracking down Han Solo?" A third joined in merrily.

...and they're PISSING ME OFF!

Vile finally cracked. He swerved towards the taunting band and fired a shot into the air with his shoulder cannon. This resulted in the kids scattering and squawking like a flock of chickens fleeing the axe, as well as a big black mark on the ceiling of the hallway. Vile grimly realized that he was going to catch holy hell for solving his problem in that manner.

Sure enough, Sigma was already heading down the hall towards the former Mechadrake. Vile braced himself for the onslaught.

"Good afternoon, Lord Skysheen."

"With all due respect sir, my name is Vile now," Vile returned, his voice echoing metallically from inside his concealing helmet.

Sigma didn't appear to hear or care for the namechange. "It's been tough adjusting from your former form, hasn't it?"

Vile nodded numbly. Nothing was closer to the truth. At least five times over the past 24 hours, his shoulder muscles would twitch spasmodically, bewildered to find that the grand wings they used to control were gone.

Sigma turned his nose up at the Regal Dragon. "Hard to imagine that a human -- a female, no less -- could do you in like that, hmm?"

Vile stiffened slightly. "But you yourself said it was an accident..." the purple clad reploid trailed off as Sigma gave him a cold, knowing stare that prompted a black light to dawn within Vile. "You mean....?"

Sigma nodded gravely. "It may have been an accident...but when I recall the entire scene, I am inclined to believe that a shot that intense had a purpose..."

Vile's unseen mouth gaped. Would Celeste really do something that vile (so to speak)? An emotion he had kept buried frozen solid in ice since the accident began to thaw out. With a firey, yet slightly guilty flash of pleasure, Vile realized he was doing what he had wanted to do since his transformation: he was allowing himself to feel resentment towards Celeste for damaging him. Celeste had surely shot him out of jealousy for his flawless Mechadrake body. Not just that, all humans were jealous of the superior build and ability of ANY reploid...

Sigma watched the purple reploid fight an inward struggle. A tiny smile formed in his black heart: Skysheen's manipulation had proved to be fairly easy. The former Mechadrake was still angry and confused about losing his magnificent dragon form. Chances were good that he'd serve Sigma's purpose without question.

Sigma lowered his voice. "We have matters to discuss, Lord Skysheen. I know that you have many questions on your mind. Be at my office at two this afternoon. My Spartans will be there: tell Lady Draco that I wish for her to be present as well."

"As you wish, sir."

"No Matzah, get your claws out of my hair�"

Matzah paid no heed as he contentedly sunk his wee talons deeper into the back of Zero's scalp.

"OW! No kitty, that's a bad kitty!!"

Matzah hissed.

"That's it. We're taking a trip to the refugee camps. Time to get you a home."

A cold, grey drizzle had begun when Zero reached the camps. The sombre weather did little to improve the already drab scenery surrounding the ever-crowded escarpment. Zero absently scratched Matzah's silky ears as he glanced around. All the humans had basically abandoned the trampled grass and holed themselves up in the identical weathered cabins to escape the restless skies. One small boy of about 13 was still outside, however. He was absently scratching nondescript patterns into the dampened mud with a stick while muttering incoherently to himself. The boy was startled out of his game as an instinct fired up. Sitting up like a pudgy chipmunk, he frisked the area over with nervous, almost wild eyes.

This scene saddened Zero a bit: no child of that age would be playing such a game outside on his own, or have such a wild-animal look in his eyes. There was obviously something not right about him. To put it crudely, he probably had a screw loose somewhere.

Upon spying the observant Crimson Wonder, the boy jumped to his feet and dashed into one of the cabins, slamming the door behind him before anything could be said. Zero managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the beginnings of a blonde ponytail trailing behind the boy as he fled. The youngster bore a remarkable resemblance to Paul Wells.

"Paul has a son?" The Hunter muttered absently. "Interesting. I never knew he was married. Too bad about the kid. I wonder exactly what's wrong with him." Zero hesitated: It was obvious why Paul had never talked about his family. The poor guy was probably ashamed.

Matzah suddenly nipped on Zero's thumb as if demanding him to think happier thoughts. Also, the kitten did not care for the damp air.

"You're some cat, you know that?" Zero huffed. "I should just give you back to Red. THEN you'll see how little you like damp places."

Only one cabin had its door fixed open. Zero decided to save himself the bother of knocking by starting there. He poked his head in the doorframe.

"What do you think, Matzah?" he murmured. "Shall I just dump you in here?"

Matzah gave a mew of objection: he obviously wanted to meet his new family before any 'dumping' was done.

"Fine." Unbidden, Zero entered the cabin. A short hallway with slate grey floor tiles led him to a square room with four crude bunk beds fixed neatly against the drafty walls. Each of the eight beds showed visible signs of inhabitancy, yet only two girls were present in the room at that moment. The first one Zero saw was a girl of about 16 on the lower bunk across from him. She swung her short legs and silently smiled at Zero as if he were an old friend. When he made a motion to speak, however, the girl sobered and pressed a finger warningly against her lips. Before Zero could ask a question, the girl pointed to the second girl that was on top of the bunk beside her.

Barely clothed, the human female lay face down with her eyes closed on a dingy green blanket. She was flushed a deep red, and her exposed skin was shiny with a thin film of sweat. She was dangerously feverish.

Alarmed, Zero cautiously took a step closer. The girl's eyes suddenly snapped open, startling the Hunter out of a year's growth.

"I'm allergic to cats," the girl wheezed, managing a grin. Her fine black hair was plastered to her sweaty forehead.

With hardly a thought, Zero tossed Matzah to the room's other occupant. "You're as sick as a dog," he said with awe. It should be noted that he hardly took notice that the sickly human was practically in her birthday suit: reploids aren't quite as modest as humans when it comes to things like that. "What's wrong with you?"

"It's just a little something that's been going around the camps. It'll pass." The girl shut her eyes wearily.

"What's your name?"

"Tess. And don't worry about me. My fianc�e, Josh, is helping me out. He's gone now to get me something to drink."

Zero blinked. "You seem a bit young to be getting married already."

Tess' eyes flared open again. A blue fire smoldered wrathfully within them. "Look, Hunter," she sneered. "love and hope are probably two of the only things we have left in this hell. Yes, that's damn corny, and I hate myself for saying it, but it's true. It's no secret that the Hunters are beginning to lose battles. More and more resources have to be spent on the war...at the expense of the refugees in this camp. My neighbourhood hasn't been reclaimed and repaired yet, and God knows if it ever will be. I don't have the guts to sign up with the Hunters, even if it means better living conditions. So I'm here to stay for a long time. Disease and pregnancy are rampant, lineups to the bathrooms are insane, and we're getting less and less to eat every day, but what the hell, it all builds character, right?" The girl gave a short, humourless laugh.

Zero was quite taken aback. A creeping sort of guilt weighed on his tounge, muting him. What Tess said was too true: more and more resources had quietly been taken from the refugee relief funds to fuel the Hunts. Well, the money had to come from somewhere...

A scuttling sound of claws against wood emitted from one of the dank walls. The sound crawled down Zero's spine, and Matzah suddenly transformed from a cuddly ball of fur rumbling on the other girl's lap into an alert hunter.

"Mice," Tess explained in a monotone voice.

"Uh...that's a rather creepy sound," Zero had to admit.

Tess shrugged listlessly. "You get used to them keeping you up at night. Actually, they seem to shut up if you quote from Pulp Fiction." The feverish girl smiled down at the girl on the lower bunk beside her. "Right Nat?"

"Yep!" Nat returned.

The nerve-wracking scratching ensued.

"They're not going to give us any peace unless we act," Tess concluded. "We'd better say our lines. Ready, Nat?"

"Uh huh," Nat answered prior to placing Matzah on the floor. The kitten immediately shot towards Zero, climbed up his hair with a fury that would have shamed Prince Charming, and sat on the Hunter's shoulder, ears scanning the room ferociously. Zero plucked the tom off of his resting place.

Tess raised her voice in the direction of the wall that seemed to contain the mice at play. "Hey man, you want some bacon?"

"I don't eat pork." Nat recited.

"Why not? You Jewish?"

"No, I just don't dig on swine."

The scratching ceased.

"Ta da!" Nat and Tess sang in unison.

Zero would have clapped if his hands weren't full of cat.

"So...tell me something." Tess asked of Zero. "I heard that a friend of mine, Celeste, got badly injured the day Torrisham Crossings was evacuated. I haven't seen her since that day: I'm guessing that she was taken to the Medical Unit. Do you know her? Do you have any idea if she's okay?"

Did Zero know Celeste? Did Bo know baseball? (did he?) Hooo boy. With a split second mental debate, Zero resolved to play it safe and tell as little as possible.

"Yeah...I know Celeste a bit. Her arm was injured pretty bad -- in fact, it's gonna be partially crippled all her life from what I understand. But she's all right now."

Tess narrowed her eyes with curiosity. "Why isn't she with us in the camps, then...?"

No avoiding this one. "Last I heard, she was going to become a Huntress."

Tess' eyes grew to twice their normal size for a full three seconds before they settled back down to normal again. "That sounds like something she'd do. She's so STUPID! Hasn't she learned anything from her idiot dad? She'll probably go off and do something mental like HE did!"

The very same concern had nested within Zero from the first day he realized that he had fallen for Celeste. He wasn't about to share this, though. He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. She's very headstrong, but I don't think she'd be proud enough to do something as dumb as take down Leviathan by herself."

Tess snorted down at the Blonde One. "You're absolutely sure that it was PRIDE that set Jake after Torrent?"

Zero gave a returning snort. "Don't be stupid. What other reason would he have?"

Celeste...

Celeste's eyes jolted open. She had just had a nightmare where Torrent Leviathan, in all his stagnant glory, was standing just ahead of her. The aqua-dragon's luminous, groping eyes looked directly at her, amused. Blue lips flecked with dirty green slid back from his yellowed teeth as he called her name...

Celeste...

Celeste shook under the drab hospital covers. The image was gone, but Torrent's slick voice was still fresh in her mind...

Celeste, my little jewel...you are not dreaming anymore. I really am speaking to you.

Ice lanced through Celeste's heart. She crammed her fist in her mouth to stifle a wail.

Do not make a sound! Torrent returned to her sharply. Speak to me with your mind. You can do it.

Celeste felt squashed between two forces. Her mind, her body, everything, had become glue.

Calm down, my pretty. I will not hurt you. I merely wish to talk. Torrent's voice was gentle...almost friendly. Please...try to speak to me in your head.

Celeste hesi tated. ...like this...?

You've got it!

Celeste was absolutely fascinated to be talking to someone in her mind. She almost forgot that the person she was speaking to was her father's killer. How come I'm able to talk to you like this...? She sent to Torrent.

I have been able to talk to certain members of your bloodline for years and years, my beauty.

Celeste blinked, astonished. "Years and years"...?

Yes. 100 years at the very least.

But...how's that possible? You're a reploid, right?

Correct.

And you were were put together at Mechadrake Assemblies, right?

Correct to a point.

I thought humans only discovered how to create reploids 30 years ago...?

Celeste could feel an inward sneer from Torrent. Who said I was BUILT by a human...?

Celeste gave a silent ode to whatever mysteries went behind Mechadrake's closed doors.

Yes, Celeste. As I said, I am able to communicate like this with a very select few from your bloodline. I will tell you more about the How and Whys about 'Mindspeak' some other time. For now, I ask you this question. When are you going to come and visit me?

Visit you...?

Yes. I wish to talk to you in person.

Celeste turned cold. Never. How does that sound?

Torrent's low chuckle rattled around Celeste's head. Your father said the exact same thing to me when I asked him this question. Lo and behold...well, you know the rest. I shall return to you later, my jewel! Fare thee well!

Celeste could feel Torrent's presence withdraw from her head, leaving his last haunting words to bounce around ceaselessly in the emptiness. Celeste lept from her bed and made a beeline for the bathroom, quite sure that she was going to be sick.