=  I want the power without the grace
          ("Feed"; Skunk Anansie)
 

Foxx had never seen the view of the city from 647 floors up but he'd always imagined it to be something akin to looking out of a porthole from a returning starship. In many ways, it was the same. It was very anticlimactic.

Miles came to stand beside him. "The whole city looks different from this angle."

Now that she'd mentioned it, it was true. Something about this place, this room, threw a new twist in an old, almost familiar sight.

Miles smiled wryly. "Welcome to God's window," she whispered.

"It is impressive, isn't it?" Nagata's voice broke in. As one, the two Hunters turned to face the President of WolfDen.

Owen Nagata was a Terran, born and bred. Everything about him -- the way he dressed, talked, walked; even the way he stood -- screamed of good family breeding. Of warm down beds, and the luxury of real meat whenever and however he wanted it. Of good schools and pretigious colleges. Booksmarts and business savvy.

He didn't look his sixty-odd years. The lines on his face were few, his carriage noble and unyielding. His hair, although shock white and looked like it had come from a magazine issue of "Einstein's Most Favourite Hairdos", was not an uncommon sight in a world of people -- and other beings -- bearing scalps of any conceivable colour and shape in creation. Only Nagata's eyes told of what he saw, and told of how weary he was. The artificial leg he bore told silent stories of the things that he'd been through.

"What do you think, Hunter Foxx?" he asked.

"It's not bad," Foxx replied.

Nagata looked faintly annoyed at his answer, but it lasted only a moment before the look was replaced by odd amusement. "Ah, I see. Perhaps you are just the type who isn't interested in wasting time on something as paltry as a view from a window."

The insult was there and not very hidden, but Foxx ignored it easily. He looked neutrally at Nagata. After a moment of silence, the old man asked them to sit.

It was an old tactic among Miles and Foxx whenever they worked together. One would be designated the 'nice guy' of the two, while the other played the uncaring grunt. Miles held the former post, almost by default. They'd found it to be a reliable technique. An overly simplified divide and conquer.

Get them to trust one over the other. Play two different types of people to accentuate the niceness, and exagerate the unrefined. Whether they realise it or not, Foxx thought, everyone will choose a side. All the easier for us.

"I thank you two for coming here so expediently," Nagata said as he himself sat behind his huge mahogany desk. "I trust you have been given a preliminary briefing at your headquarters?"

"Yes, we have," Miles replied. "However, we are severely lacking in relevant information regarding the rogue SuperTroopers. We are hoping that the oversight would be corrected here in WolfDen."

Nagata smiled, ever the gracious host. "Of course, Hunter Miles." He pressed a button on his console. To his secretary, he said, "One of the Hunters has need to access the main databanks. Please make sure that security allows him in."

Foxx hid a smile. So the old man prefers to talk with the nice guy. Fair enough. He got up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."

Nagata nodded, and watched as the Hunter left.

"Thank you for being so understanding, President Nagata," Miles said, though she could barely hide the sarcasm in her voice.

Nagata turned to her. "Perhaps now we can dispense with the theatrics, Hunter. You look to be someone with a good, knowledgable background in the study of life. Am I correct?"

"Any answer I give you wouldn't matter at all," she said, keeping her face straight. "I have a feeling you already know more about my partner and I than our bosses do back in headquarters."

"True. I must say that I find it curious that one who held such a high regard and passion for life would actually stoop to becoming a member of the Hunters."

"I had my reasons," Miles said, conscious of her own growing irritation.

"Might I ask what they were?" Nagata probed.

"You may, but I wouldn't give you an answer."

He raised a white eyebrow. "You are a strange woman, Hunter Miles. You had a brilliant life ahead of you. Looking at your records, I'd venture that you would have had a very good chance of being offered a position here in WolfDen."

"I'm honoured you think so well of me, Dr. Nagata."

"And yet," he went on, "you threw it all away, and became a hired killer." He shook his head. "You have wasted your talents."

Miles cracked a humourless smile. "I've found newer talents to depend on, Doctor."

"Killing."

"It's a living," she said, with a careless shrug.

Nagata snorted, though there was a coldly amused glint in his eyes. "Ah, yes. The old Hunter adage, wasn't it?" He settled back comfortably in his chair. "A brotherhood of mercenaries working under the banner of the public."

"I wouldn't call it a brotherhood, unless you were making a comment on my hidden masculinity," Miles said, not bothering to point out the obvious similarities between the Hunters and the SuperTroopers to him.

Nagata sighed, and changed the subject. "How much did your chief -- Walsh, was it? -- tell you about this case?"

"All that we currently know is that there are four SuperTroopers gone rogue, and that they may or may not be on Earth right now." Miles paused, then continued, "And that you, President Nagata, for some reason hold a great deal of interest in this particular group of rogues."

Nagata said, "I hold a great deal of interest in every SuperTrooper ever made in WolfDen, Hunter Miles."

I'll take your word on it, Miles said silently. "But this is the first time you have ever personally requested our services. Might I ask why?"

"The answer is simple enough," Nagata said. "They plan to kill me."

"Other rogue 'Troopers have planned to kill you before," Miles said. "What makes these rogues different? What makes you so sure that they are after you at all?"

Nagata drew in a long breath. "I am both life and death to the SuperTroopers, Hunter Miles. The main purpose of their existences is to fight; to defend our League against the threat of the Crown forces. Our work here focuses on nothing more or less than developing and producing the ultimate defenders. The perfect warriors."

In other words, Miles thought, you're churning out gene-engineered fighting machines, born and bred to kill and kill. And you even have the gall to call us the killers.

Nagata smiled almost bitterly. "Do you see this?" He pointed to his own artificial leg. "One of my creations did this to me. He was the prototype for the 3rd generation SuperTrooper. I watched over him and raised him like my own son, and yet, when he was old enough to understand what he could do, he didn't even hesitate to take my leg off."

"I do recall that the 3rd gens were always slightly unstable," Miles said. "More prone to violence."

The old man nodded sadly. "Our techniques had not been perfected at that time."

"But, even knowing how dangerous they were, you continued manufacturing them."

Nagata glared. "The League was pushed to the very brink of defeat, Hunter Miles. The Crown forces occupied two thirds of the known region, and were pushing to overrun us here in Sol. We needed every available fighter we could get." He turned his chair to face the window. "I admit that the 3rd generation was imperfect. But we have learnt from them, and now our new line of SuperTroopers speaks much for that experience."

"You are referring, of course, to your 6th generation SuperTroopers?"

"Yes."

Miles decided not to point out that the leader of the rogue group Nagata was so interested in was a 6th generation 'Trooper himself. Instead, she asked again, "So why are you so certain that these 'Troopers are coming for you?"

"We are very good at what we do here, Hunter Miles. Our SuperTroopers were bred to fight and destroy the things most threatening to their existence. That is the reason why they fight so fiercely in the war against the Crown.

"However, even the Queen of the Crown is a lesser danger to them when compared to the threat I represent."

Miles raised an eyebrow. Not that the old man could see it.

"No other creature in the League and beyond knows how to destroy -- completely -- a SuperTrooper... except me. That's why they will, inevitably, come to me."

Ain't life a bitch? Miles caught herself thinking. Aloud, she said, "If what you say is true, then why don't they come gunning for us?"

Nagata cocked his head to one side, smiling condescendingly. "Because, Hunter Miles, your methods of putting down these rogues are too ineffective."

This time, Miles' irritation flared into full anger. With an effort, she forced it down. "It is a point of pride in our units that we take down all the 'Troopers we find; and we do our job well, Doctor. I am very curious to know how it is that you can describe our efforts as 'ineffective'."

"I can and I do because your way is too simple. Yes, you 'take down' the rogue SuperTroopers, but you can only do it one at a time, and with great risk to yourself. I'm told that your Hunter units has the greatest mortality rates among all the security divisions. What you know about the SuperTroopers, your weapons, your methods, your tactics... all admirable, but inadequate to properly rate you as a significant threat to the SuperTroopers. I, however, am the only being alive who knows the SuperTroopers inside and out. To put it plainly, I know what makes them tick."

"And by that, you also mean to imply that you know what would make them stop ticking."

"Exactly." Nagata turned away again. "Please do what you can to stop them, Hunter."

Miles made no move to leave, though she understood his dismissal. She had one more question to ask. "Why does this group frighten you so much?"

Nagata made no arguments to her choice of words. Perhaps he was frightened by his creations, or perhaps he just didn't care what she thought. "Look to the one who leads them, Hunter. You will find nothing that is more dangerous than a killer who wants to stop killing."

*****

There was nobody waiting for him when he arrived at the data retrieval units. Protocol had it that he was supposed to have some corporation personnel watch over him as he made the data transfer. Though he had waited a bit, it had looked as though no one was going to come at all.

So much for WolfDen hospitality, he mused, and made for the nearest console.

Foxx sat down at the chair, taking out the little case from his pocket. Taking out the datachip, he was about to put it into the slot when a voice spoke up from behind him, "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing, sir."

Swivelling the chair around, he saw a tall woman, looking distinctive with her 'oriental' features and her green eyes. While he suspected that her hair, which had a red-brown hue to it, might be dyed, he got the feeling that her eyes were the real thing. He couldn't recall ever seeing eyes so green before.

"Well?" she went on, quietly amused at his staring.

He got to his feet and stood before her. "My name is Zachary Foxx. I'm from the Hunter units in section 8."

"That's very interesting, Hunter. Might I ask what you were doing in front of this data console?"

He hid an irritated frown. "Gathering data, evidently," he replied. "If you'll excuse me..." He turned to the console again.

"Only selected personnel are permitted to enter the databases," she told him.

"I am a Hunter," he replied.

"I'm so happy for you," she returned, unfazed, "but I think you've mentioned that before. I'm sorry," she continued, "but I'm afraid I can't allow you to access our files without proper clearance."

This time, he did allow the frown to show. "I do have clearance."

She raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't notified of anything regarding this matter," she said, finally showing something more than a cursory interest. "Who did you say issued this clearance?"

I didn't, but since you asked... "Nagata."

She kept her face carefully neutral, but nodded. "I see." She paused, as if looking him over. Suddenly, she held out her hand. "My name is Niko."

Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone with her slight build. "A pleasure," he muttered.

This got him a smile from her, as if she knew better. "I'm from the Psi Division. I handle everything that has anything to do with the mental development of our children here."

"'Children'?" he repeated slowly, not quite believing his ears.

"Yes, children." She frowned. "Do you have a problem with that, Hunter?"

He was silent a moment, but shrugged casually. If that's how they want to look at it; fine... "No, ma'am; no problems at all."

"I understand you're the one who was responsible for taking down the 'Trooper on Olymph."

He nodded, but turned to the console. "If you'll excuse me," he said. "I have some work to do..."

"You still can't access the databases," she told him. "However, I could retrieve the files you need for you."

"Please," he said, curtly. He was beginning to get a headache, and it didn't help his temper very much.

With a little smile, she settled into the chair. "Which files will you need?"

He handed her the datachip. "I'll want the files regarding the SuperTroopers listed in this chip."

Taking it, she slotted the chip into the data transfer receptacle. Almost immediately, the monitor lit up with the words, Non-Corp. datachip detected.

She typed something in. The monitor blinked and said, Enter userchip.

She plugged her Corp. userchip into another slot, and typed again something that Foxx couldn't see. In a moment, the monitor brought up a list of the files requested. Medical files, psych profiles, combat records... everything was there.

"Do you want specific files, or should I just download every one into the chip?" she asked.

"Everything." Then, just in case, he added, "Please."

She smiled wryly. "A Hunter with manners," she mused. "This is a day for firsts."

Foxx threw her a glance, but said nothing.

As the downloading commenced, she turned in her chair to face him. "If I may ask, how long have you been a Hunter?"

"Five years. Maybe a bit longer than that," he replied, watching the monitor.

"Are you good at your job?"

He gave her another brief look. "Better than some, worse than others." He allowed himself a crooked smile. "I suppose I'm good enough at it to have made it this far."

Her gaze was direct and almost piercing, as if she could look into his eyes even when he wasn't looking back at her. "Have you ever taken a human down by mistake?"

He felt himself go cold as a mental picture of Meredith flashed in his mind's eye. All of a sudden, he didn't like standing so close to this confusing woman, but he resisted the urge to move away. "No," he said, looking even more intently at the screen. "Not by mistake."

There was a slight change to her now. He didn't know if it was her stance, or the way she seemed to draw back from him, but he recognised the fact that something in what he'd said had, in some way, affected her. She lost that smug and confident mask for a moment, and turned away from him.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly.

"What?" he asked, but she just shook her head.

"Nothing. Just thinking out loud." She busied herself with the console one last time, then extracted the datachip from its slot when the downloads were finished. "Here you go," she said, handing it to him.

"Thanks," he said, and turned to go.

"Hunter."

He stopped just in front of the doors. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that she was standing now, mere feet away from him. She was looking at him in a decidedly different manner than when he'd first introduced himself to her. He wasn't sure if he felt comfortable with the change or not.

"Good luck," she told him, and he thought it strange to hear the sincerity in her words.

"Never say that to a Hunter," he returned, smiling now. "People with good luck don't have to be Hunters at all."

She grinned slightly, if a little sheepishly. "I hope you find what you're looking for, then."

He nodded, and left.

He found Afsan in the corridors of the ground floor. The thin Egyptian was blatantly pulling at one of his cigarettes right underneath a stern-looking 'No Smoking' holo. With a small grin, Foxx went up to him.

Afsan nodded him a greeting. "Salaam, Foxx. I see Miles finally managed to drag you all the way back to Earth."

"Wouldn't miss this for anything," Foxx replied. "Aren't you pushing your luck a bit too far, Afsan? If Walsh finds out about this again, he'll have your hide."

"What's he going to do? Cancel my vacation?" Afsan grimaced, but put out his cigarette after one last long drag. "Ah, but this -- as you Westerners would say so eloquently -- sucks."

Foxx leaned against one of the walls. "I understand you were planning on going to Titan for your vacation."

Afsan grunted. "Promised my daughter I'd take her there since two years ago. Now she's there with my wife, and not exactly feeling very happy about her daddy having to stay back and work."

It was hard not to feel sympathy for the man, but Foxx had nothing to say that wasn't obvious. Class Alpha Hunters were scarce, and getting scarcer. Few Betas had the proper experience or contacts to deal with high priority cases like this. It had been understood that when HQ called an Alpha in for duty, that Alpha had better damned well answer but quick.

Afsan let out a gruff laugh. "What the hell... This is what we signed for."

Foxx raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Afsan to swear. Still, he could understand the cause of the man's ire.

"How're the interviews going along?" he asked.

The Egyptian shrugged. "Slow. Daley and I have already managed to finish with most of the lower level employees. It's the upper execs we're having trouble dealing with."

"Why's that?"

"Nobody likes the idea, you know? Nobody sane wants to waste time on these painful things, and the psych tests aren't that much fun, either. Besides, the execs here are... protected from this sort of thing. They've got to volunteer."

"Fat chance of that happening, of course," Foxx said.

"Hm," Afsan agreed. "Too bad the 2058 won't let us put them on gene testing. That'd make our work a lot easier." He sighed. "Oh, well. It's a dirty job, but at least we're getting paid for it."

"It's nice to hear such good cheer from you for once, Beanstalk," Miles' voice said.

Afsan grinned widely. "Salaam, Miles! How's my favourite Hunter doing?"

"Salaam, Afsan, and I'm doing fine." She glanced at the holosign above, then back at him. When she saw the remains of his cigarette lying next to his feet, she sighed. "Christ, Afsan. Smoking in a no-smoking area, and littering?"

Afsan endeavoured to look innocent, but didn't quite carry it off.

"Quit trying, man," Foxx told him.

"Heh, I'll never make it to Bollywood," Afsan chuckled. "How did your meeting with the old man go?" he asked Miles.

Miles snorted. "As well as we'd all expect it to go."

Afsan looked sympathetic. He was about to speak when his comm unit buzzed. Pulling it out of his jacket, he turned away for a moment to use it.

Foxx leaned closer to Miles. "What'd he say?"

She shook her head. "Only implied that we'd better be on our toes for this one. The old man's afraid."

"Did he say why?" Foxx asked softly.

"He only said to look out for the leader, Gooseman. This is definitely not going to be a routine assignment, partner," she said, glancing at him.

"I know." They both leaned against the wall, idly watching and listening as WolfDen employees passed by with curious looks in their direction. "Everything's going to be fine," he said, without believing.

She laughed. "Don't quit your day job," she told him. "You'll never make it anywhere else out there."

* * * * *