=  Like a soul without a mind
       In a body without a heart
       I'm missing every part
          ("Unfinished Sympathy"; Massive Attack)
 

Foxx stepped out from behind the plasteel crates and faced the two before him. The man glared at him with eyes fit to kill, his fists clenched tight. Just looking at him told Foxx that he'd have his hands full dealing with this one.

The woman whirled in surprise, obviously not expecting that she'd be tailed here. Her hands made a short, sudden movement toward her jacket pocket, but stopped before reaching in. Probably had a hold-out pistol in there somewhere.

"Grace Meredith, I have a contract to bring you back to Earth to answer the charges of gun-running, and aiding and abetting known criminals operating against the laws set by the League of Planets." It wasn't a good speech to give, especially considering that the two in front of him weren't in the mood to listen. Still, there'd be a legal hell to pay if he didn't identify his intentions before making the collar. "Come quietly or you'll be in bigger trouble than you already are."

The man took a step forward, prompting Foxx to draw his gun. Meredith grabbed hold of her companion's arm, and he stopped.

"How did you find me on this planet?" she asked, voice shaking.

Foxx allowed himself a tight-lipped smile. "I'm good at what I do."

The man growled deep in his throat; it was a sound not unlike one an angry and suspicious dog would make. "You're one of those damn Hunters, aren't you?" He took another step forward.

Meredith snapped a shocked look at him. She paled. "Oh, god..."

Foxx gazed at him steadily. "Disappear. I have no contract for your collar."

The man didn't seem to hear and continued to advance. Meredith whispered something; a name. The man made a swift chopping motion with his hand, and she fell silent. All throughout, he kept his eyes glued on Foxx's. The Hunter lifted his gun to bear on him.

"Don't walk into a loaded gun, friend," he muttered softly. "I have no business with you," he said, louder. "Don't make me shoot you."

Meredith's companion grinned; it was an unnerving sight. "Oh, no, little Hunter. I'm afraid you're dead wrong on that score," he said, and ran toward him at full tilt.

Foxx kept his gun trained on him as the man got closer. When he was a mere four feet away, he fired.

The bullet ripped through the face of the oncoming attacker with enough force to knock him off his feet. He landed on the ground with a loud thump.

Foxx lowered the gun, feeling sorry for the poor bastard. Stupid! he mentally shouted. What good did that do you? Nobody's of any use to anyone when they're dea... His train of thought derailed suddenly when the body twitched and began to glow.

Foxx's eyes widened, and he took a step backwards. He shot a look at Meredith, and saw her standing over the body protectively, with a smile on her lips.

"I'd say you're the one in big trouble now, Hunter," she said, reaching into her jacket pocket.

Without a word, Foxx brought up his gun to bear on her. Instinctively, she ducked, giving him the moment he needed to bolt back behind the crates. He heard her cursing as he ran in between the stacked crates and the heavy loading machines, but he knew she wouldn't come running after him right away. She'd let the SuperTrooper handle him.

He berated himself for not spotting the man as a 'Trooper earlier before. His was not the type of business that allowed for mistakes of that kind. He should've known better. Now, he had not only a nervous and armed woman after him, but he'd also have to handle a fully-armoured and extremely ticked off SuperTrooper as well.

Stupid, he sneered inwardly, this time directing it at himself. Getting a bit too careless for this line of work.

He turned the corner and sank to one knee as he tried to calm his breathing after that short but swift run. Eyes and ears straining to warn him of any impending dangers, he unloaded the ammunition clip from his gun; normal bullets wouldn't do him an ounce of good against a SuperTrooper. Reaching into his jacket, he brought out and loaded the gun with a clip of standard Hunting rounds. That done, he paused again, took a deep breath and started moving.

He ran in the general direction of the exit. If nothing else, he figured he'd need some space to take care of the 'Trooper properly without bringing any harm to Meredith. There were too many chances of ambush or misidentification indoors.

A sound, little more than the scrape of booted feet on metal, alerted him to someone's presence nearby. He paused, leaning back against a tower of plasteel crates, trying like crazy to hear another sound. He heard it again, farther away, and by the sound of it, somewhere upwards. He threw a glance up but saw nothing except the roof, steel rafters, a gantry, and the winch.

He narrowed his eyes. Control room, is it? he thought. Even as he looked up, he heard the sound of the warehouse doors sliding shut, and the locks clicking into place. Whoever was in the control room had effectively cut off his escape.

Foxx began to move again; no sense in becoming a stationary target for a 'Trooper out for the kill. This time, he moved toward the control room. He'd seen some stairs climbing up to a gantry that led to the control room earlier on as he did a quick look-around before confronting the pair.

As he finally arrived within sight of the room, all the lights in the warehouse dimmed and finally died out. Gripping his gun tighter still, he hid as best he could while waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Carefully, he drew silent breaths, straining to hear anything.

"You do realise," a voice said from somewhere behind him, "that you're not going to come out of this alive."

Foxx stiffened and almost stopped breathing. His heart was beating so fast and so loudly, he wondered if anybody else could hear it. Gripping his gun with suddenly clammy hands, he slowly turned his head to look behind him.

He saw nothing but the flat dull gray of industrial plasteel containers. He blinked, at once relieved and confused.

"Hunter, Hunter, run away," came the voice again. It sounded as if it were coming from behind the crates. "Poor little Hunter's now the prey," the 'Trooper went on in a sing-song voice.

Foxx prayed silently that the 'Trooper didn't know just how close he really was. He daren't move for fear of making a sound that would betray his hiding place. His throat felt dry but for some irrational reason he fought the urge to swallow. He could hear the 'Trooper moving silently between the crates, and could imagine him straining his own senses as well in an effort to sniff out his target.

Then, all sound of movement ceased. For what seemed like an eternity, Foxx was frozen in place, desperately trying to figure out what was going on on the other side of the plasteel.

I can't stay here for too long, he told himself. Have to take a risk and keep moving. Still, he hesitated. What if he's still there...?

"Done hiding out?" the 'Trooper murmured, his breath tickling the Hunter's ear.

Immediate panic set off the already tensed muscles, propelling the Hunter from the spot and up the crates in an instant. He pulled himself up onto the top of the plasteel tower as the 'Trooper roared and tried to grab his scrabbling feet. At the summit, Foxx leapt from crate to crate, trying to put some distance between him and the 'Trooper. It was a tricky business to do in the dark, to say the least, but he saw some hope as he came up to the mesh gantry that eventually led to the control room where he presumed Meredith was. He hefted himself up onto it and paused long enough to look over his shoulder.

The 'Trooper was bounding catlike over the same crates he had, and was almost upon the Hunter when he turned and fired.

Loud thunder roared and echoed throughout the warehouse as Foxx felt the sudden jolt of the 'smart' round exploding from the barrel of his gun. The 'Trooper seemed to jerk in mid-air and landed in an awkward heap.

"No!" Meredith's voice screamed from somewhere in the darkness.

All of a sudden, the lights came back on, blinding him. Resisting the urge to screw his eyes shut, Foxx brought a hand up to shade his eyes from the glare. He got unsteadily to his feet and started to make his way but fell back in fright when the impact of metal on metal shot sparks upwards just before him. He squinted and saw two arms, glistening metal limbs, seemingly sprout out from the gantry and grab at his feet.

"Shit!" he bit out as he scrambled backwards. He lifted his gun, aimed and squeezed the trigger.

A sudden shot rang out, but not from his gun. Meredith was running towards them, firing her own weapon. Foxx gritted his teeth, starting to get angry. There wasn't any way he could find cover up on the gantry, so he rolled sideways into empty space.

He crashed onto the crates that waited some 2 metres below him, wincing in pain as his body hit the tough alloy. His impact rocked the entire tower, causing it -- and him -- to tumble onto the ground, the gun dropping from his hand.

He blacked out for a moment, coming to slowly amid broken containment crates and the heap of oranges that had been in them moments before. Even as he blinked the haze from his vision, he felt the soft trickling of sticky juice down his face. He grimaced, shaking his head.

Metallic feet came into his field of vision. This, more than anything, brought him to sobriety. He jerked himself up.

The 'Trooper stood impassively in front of him, ankle deep in crushed oranges. He seemed to be waiting.

Foxx's eyes darted about, trying to find his gun.

"Looking for that pea-shooter of yours?" The 'Trooper nodded to his left.

Foxx glanced in the direction indicated and saw his gun resting temptingly out of his immediate reach. He licked his lips nervously, tasting blood and juice.

"Won't do you any good, Hunter," the gleaming metal man said softly. "Gracie?" he called out.

"I'm here," Meredith replied.

"Get the car ready. I'll be done in a minute." He looked down at himself.

There was a bullet wound on the right side of his chest. The fact that the wound was visible told Foxx all he needed to know; the 'Trooper was as good as dead. It was only a matter of time before the nanites in his body killed him.

Foxx got to his feet slowly, eyeing the SuperTrooper all the while. "You should've disappeared when I told you to," he said.

The 'Trooper smiled, the effect strange on his metal features. "And let you take Gracie? I think not, Hunter."

"What's she to you? Just a human girl who should've known better than to get involved with a gene-engineered murderer." He swayed, but managed to balance himself.

"Funny," the 'Trooper mused. "You don't seem to mind when us 'murderers' are out there on the front lines keeping the League safe from Crown occupation." He grimaced and bent over, clutching at his gut.

Foxx took his chance and dove for his gun. As his hand closed on to the butt, he heard a voice cry out a warning, then the thunder of gunfire.

A bullet impacted into the fruit beside him, spraying juice all over his face. Reflexively, he lifted the gun and returned fire.

Meredith screamed as the bullet hit. Staggering backwards, she hit the gantry rail, and fell to the ground.

"GRACIE!" the 'Trooper screamed. Turning, he bellowed and charged.

It was over in less than a second.

* * * * *

The doors slid shut quietly. He found himself wishing he'd been able to slam them shut instead. He paused for a moment before slowly unbuckling the shoulder holster that held his gun and ammunition pack.

It hadn't been a good day at all. After he'd felled the 'Trooper, he went to check on Meredith despite all common sense. He found her, or rather, what was left of her. The specialised 'smart' round had passed cleanly through her, but after her impact with the ground what remained wasn't a pretty sight at all. Foxx had seen what the rounds could do to normal human flesh, but this was the first time he'd been the one responsible for burying the bullet. He was barely able to keep from purging his stomache contents onto the floor. He barely remembered being slightly thankful that he hadn't packed any of the Hi-Ex rounds for this trip.

The local authorities arrived in less than five minutes of his call. The detectives had not been happy to find the mess, but refrained from making too many loud comments in front of him, at least. The elite Hunter units weren't very popular with regular police departments since Hunters mostly operated like the mercenary bounty hunters, but no other unit outside of the Terran Armed Forces was as extensively trained, equipped and prepared to deal with the dangerous SuperTroopers as they were. Popular or not, sooner or later, everyone would need their services.

He had gone to the precinct as ordered and reported his side of the story. Legal and administrative measures took up most of the hours. It had been a great relief when he was finally allowed to go back to his rented room for the rest of the day.

Foxx moved almost mechanically towards the sleeping room, shedding his jacket and shirt as he went. He almost dumped them onto the bed before he remembered that they'd need to be cleaned first. Ringing for the service droid, he undressed and collected the rest of his orange-stained clothes.

The sound of a small buzzer alerted him to the imminent arrival of the service droid. A small panel on the wall of the kitchenette whooshed open and the three-foot tall mag-levved contraption appeared.

"How may I help you?" it asked politely.

He handed the clothes to the droid. "Wash them."

The droid accepted the bundle and with a "Have a nice day" comment, retreated into the panel and disappeared. It'd be back in less than an hour with his clothes.

He needed a shower. A long one.

He turned on the water jets to the highest setting, wincing as the hot water stabbed at his body. Gradually decreasing the pressure until he found it tolerable, he then tried to relax under the stream of water. It didn't work. He kept seeing them; Meredith screaming as she fell the 10 metres to the ground, the 'Trooper charging at him head-on with eyes that cried out in grief.

That was the worst part of all, he decided. The 'Trooper hadn't charged him out of rage or fear. He'd done it because he wanted to die with her.

His fists clenched tightly, driving his fingernails into the palms of his hands. I called him a murderer, he thought. I'm no better...

"You have an incoming call," the room computer chimed. He ignored it.

A moment later, he heard the vid-com activate, and the message played itself out.

"Zach? I don't have time to bother wondering if you're really there or not," her voice said, sounding as annoyed and as disgusted as she had been when he saw her last. "I just called to tell you that the payment's come through, and that I'm taking the kids to Vela with me. I figured that since they're on holiday, it wouldn't be fair to keep leeching off of mom's kindness." She chuckled a bit at that, and he couldn't help smiling a little. His mother-in-law loved having Zach and Jessie around all the time.

"We'll be on Vela for some time." There was a pause, then she went on, "They were wondering how come you never called. Zach, they're your kids. They haven't heard from you in more than half a year. What happened to that 'I'll love you both no matter what' speech you gave them before you left, huh?"

He could picture her face, angry and concerned at the same time. Except...

"Anyway, we'll be leaving Earth tomorrow. If you can take your mind off your job for a few minutes, call. You can get our number from mom."

There was silence for a moment before the computer chimed, "End of message."

Foxx shut his eyes.

... except that the concern in her eyes was imagined. She stopped worrying years ago.

With a hiss, he pounded his fists into the wall of the shower stall, oblivious to the physical pain. He called up their images in his mind's eye, wanting to see them as they had been three years ago.

But the images blurred, until all he could see were their bodies on the ground, himself standing over them with a smoking gun in his hand. Their sightless eyes staring up at him in untold grief and pain...

He inhaled sharply, teeth bared in an almost feral snarl. It was harder this time to keep the tears from coming.
 
 

The incessant chime coming from the vid-com console woke him up. He ignored the noise for as long as he could, hoping that whoever it was would think that he wasn't in and hang up.

"Incoming message," the computer told him. "Priority one."

He frowned, then got up grumpily.

"Put it through," he muttered, seating himself in front of the console.

The chiming stopped, and the monitor blinked on. Message source: Olymph, was displayed on the screen. Caller ID: Miles, A.

Foxx sat up straighter. This is interesting...

The screen lit up, and the visage of Hunter Audra Miles appeared, looking as cool and professional as always.

"Late night, Foxx?" she asked, taking in his red-eyed expression.

"Tough day. Now that we've got that little bit of small talk out of the way..."

She smiled crookedly. "We got some business for you, Earthside," she said. "Big one, too."

Foxx shook his head. "And you've come all the way here from Earth for me?" he asked, sceptically.

"You're not the only Class A Hunter Walsh is calling in," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Walsh's orders, huh?"

Miles nodded.

Foxx sighed. "I'll finish up here and get back to Earth as soon as I can."

"No need to worry about that. I've handled all the red tape regarding your... successful kill yesterday."

He shook his head again, amused. "Either Walsh really wants the Class A's back fast, or you're a nicer person than I'd always thought you were."

"I'm nicer than you think, Foxx," she returned coolly. "I'm down in the waiting hall. Get yourself ready and we'll be off planet in a couple of hours."

He nodded, and terminated communications. He wondered what it was that had prompted Walsh to call the Class Alpha Hunters back to Earth. The last time that happened, it was to handle the 'Trooper riots over at their training base in Russia, he remembered. Despite himself, he shuddered. Three Alphas dead, one more crippled for life, and six Betas had to retire due to extensive injuries. Not a good tally on any day. Foxx himself had been there, three years ago. He and his partner were among the fortunate ones, having lived through the experience with slight injuries. Miles, an up and coming Beta, had racked up the most kills, although the fact that two of her partners had been among the casualties soured what would have been touted as an auspicious day for her career advancement.

A week after the funerals, though, Foxx, Miles and Daley (Foxx's Beta teammate) had been called into Walsh's office, whereupon he congratulated them on their promotion to the Class Alpha ranks. Neither one of them celebrated the occasion.

Foxx sighed and got up to pack his things.
 
 

Miles was waiting patiently, comfortably seated in one of the large gel chairs. She looked up as Foxx entered the waiting hall, carrying his bags. Rising to her feet in one graceful motion, she came up to him and said, "You take a long time to pack for someone who brought so little."

"Pleasant as ever," he observed. He gave her a wry smile. "The bill...?"

She frowned. "I already took care of the police paperwork for you. Why should I have to pay your bills?"

He laughed. "Let's go. I paid for the room up front, anyway."

She leaned over and took one of his bags from his grip, and motioned him to follow her. They went out into the carpark where she had a rented flier resting. Foxx shook his head as he saw the car.

"Taking advantage of Hunter privileges, I see," he commented as they loaded his stuff in the trunk. "Isn't this car a little too much for your budget?"

She grinned. "Live a little, Foxx."

"Who's driving?"

"Who do you think?"

He shrugged -- Ask a stupid question... -- and got into the passenger side. Miles had acquired a deep passion for cars over the years. Somehow, looking at her, Foxx found it hard to imagine how she could be so... unexpected.

Miles had been a raw recruit when he first met her. Fresh out of training, and green in every sense of the word. Still, her tenacity and spunk spoke volumes about her. After having read her background files, Foxx was even more amazed with her. Before joining the Hunters, she'd been, of all things, a university student, spending her days studying and worrying about exams and scholarships. She'd graduated with Honours, and had a good job lined up in one of the major research corps that was contracted by the League government.

Less than a year after her graduation, however, she'd signed up for training in the Hunter unit. When Foxx had asked her why, she simply replied, "My fiance got killed."

Considering her background, it was no surprise that the veteran Hunters had her pegged to be the next to be shipped out in a body bag. Some of the more cynical ones had a small betting pool going on: which rookie would be the first to buy it. Miles was the overwhelming choice. To Foxx's amusement, Miles not only survived her assignments, her results and efficiency on the job clearly surpassed most of the experienced Hunters'. She excelled in her work.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked, her voice snapping his mind back to the present.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

A raised eyebrow, nothing more. She let the question drop; she'd known him long enough to recognise when to leave him alone.

Carefully, she brought the car to a hovering altitude of 200 metres above the ground before gunning the propulsion. Stabilisers whined as they kicked in, inertial dampers lessening the impact of the g forces on the occupants of the car.

Foxx grunted. She still drived like a maniac. "So what is this 'big job' Walsh has lined up for us?" he asked.

"Any details I know are sketchy, at best. From what I understand, a company of 'Troopers deserted their posts some time ago. We got a report that they'd been spotted in the Hymoon system five days ago. They'd hijacked a starship and jumped into hyper before the authorities there could barricade the system."

Foxx listened silently, gazing out the window. There weren't that many other cars besides theirs, not at this altitude. He glanced downward and saw the lights of the Olymphan city below.

"Then, four days ago Walsh got this message from none other than WolfDen's president himself. Seems the old man's been getting a bit more paranoid than usual. He's convinced that the 'Troopers are out to get him." Miles shook her head in amusement.

He appreciated the irony. The creator of the SuperTroopers, god of bio-engineering, the man who claimed to be able to make man better than nature ever could; and yet here was Dr. Owen Nagata, apparently afraid of his own creations.

Just goes to show, he thought, that being god doesn't necessarily mean you're treated like one.

It was a popular joke among the Hunters that the old man believed that he was doing his duty for mankind by manufacturing these super-soldiers to protect the League from the Crown.

There's nothing funnier nowadays than a paranoid delusional who's convinced he has to be paranoid and delusional for the sake of the human race.

"Must be something to his claim if Walsh is calling all of us back," Foxx commented.

Miles nodded.

"Then, this could be nothing more than a babysitting gig?"

She shrugged. "I doubt it. Maybe. I don't know."

Foxx snorted. "Yeah, right. You know more than you're letting on, Hunter Miles."

She shrugged again. "Parker's out of the loop," she told him.

He looked surprised. "Parker?" he repeated. "What happened?"

"Collared herself a rogue 'Trooper, then got shot in the head by his buddies."

He frowned. "How'd they get the drop on her?"

"That's the weird part. She said she'd done a scan before going in and that the 'Trooper was the only one in the building."

"She's speaking, then? How is she doing?"

"She's not exactly talking; not with her own voice at any rate. Still, she's not doing too bad. The docs have got her plugged up to the neural safety nets while her body's healing nicely. Good thing the bullet didn't damage too much of the brain tissue." Miles was silent for a moment. "She's going to need some major cranial reconstruction, though."

Foxx was silent for a while. "How long has she been in the hospital, then?"

"Been about a week already," she replied. "Walsh was pretty ticked off when he got the news."

He grinned, though there wasn't much humour in it. If he knew Walsh, 'ticked off' was putting it a tad too mildly. "What about Daley and Afsan?"

"They're back in HQ. Not very happy about all this, though. Poor saps are supposed to be on vacation by now." Miles paused, keeping her eyes on her driving. "How are Zach and Jessie doing?" she asked.

Foxx didn't reply, and after a moment, Miles sighed.

"Christ, Foxx," she muttered. "Don't tell me you haven't even seen them."

"Don't start, all right?" he snapped.

"How can I not?" she retorted. "It's been close to a year. What do you think this silence is going to achieve? Do you want them to think you're dead, or something?"

He turned away. "It'd be easier..."

"On whom? Them, or you?" She ignored his glare. "Christ," she muttered one more time for good measure.

"Keep out of it," he told her flatly.

She turned to look at him, a strange expression on her face. He turned away from her again. A sad look flashed in Miles' eyes, unnoticed by him as he gazed out the window. The silence lasted for a long time.

Finally, she said softly, "You're killing yourself, you know."

He smiled bitterly, and closed his eyes.

* * * * *