Zero Gear

Prologue

Tension wasn't a particularly new feeling to any of the occupants of Providence's central control unit. They had all been there, one by one, from the beginning; where tension thrived, stretched and stabbed through the hearts and the minds of not only themselves but those they were sworn to protect. With each mission, tension grew thicker, a weight on movement and on expression as they attempted to fight through each new obstacle whilst retaining their foundation but with every slain enemy and defeated member of the opposition, the stakes would deepen and desperation would heighten itself until it was all any of them could register, could feel. And in that sorely-remembered era, without fail, Agent Six had remained stalwart on the front lines of every conflict.

Even before his memories had been altered in an effort to salvage his, Six had been his name for as long as he could recall. From when he had been training under the watchful eye of One, from his days working as a rogue mercenary spilling whatever blood was necessary to earn his two cents; if he had a name, a real name, he didn't know it and was not interested in trying to uncover that element of truth to his past. The past was a fickle, sensitive thing: left unchecked, it could wreak a special kind of havoc. The kind that could break one's spirit in the present, the kind that may stop one from attempting to pursue a future - despite how morbid the circumstances of this gathering were, it was remarkable that Six had grown to see the rise and set of so many years. His hair greyed at the edges, and his eyesight waned behind those thin-frame glasses, but his stoic and silent outlook and demeanour remained prevalent throughout the span of the meeting. It was that perpetual expression and reliability, he thought, that had led him back here to this dark room with it's monitors and swivel chairs and the on-again off-again entrance of a man or woman in traditional Providence uniform. Because when all was said and done, no matter what time passed or what distance he put between himself and this work .. Six never really changed.

"Everyone is here .. good. We ought to start off with the obvious things."

Six looked off to the side, and there he was. Stern, by-the-book in an almost psychopathic way and shielded against the outside world whether it was in his sterile office or within that armoured suit stood a man known only as White Knight, a man Six had known particularly well. A man that drifted across the lines of 'friend' and 'commanding officer' dependent on the demands of any given situation; and judging by the depths and fluctuations of his all-too-familiar tone, it wasn't hard to conclude that today he was the latter. Still, it had been a considerably long time since they were all together like this, and the marks of age were present on Providence's leading authority despite his efforts to protect himself from infection. They weren't just physical, either. Six could see the exhaustion in the pupils of his eyes, his strained movements. The Knight was tired, and no one could think of a single reason to blame him.

"EVOs are making a comeback for the first time in over thirty years. To mount an effective resistance to what could be the beginning stages of a secondary nanite event, we'll need to case our environment effectively and plan the best possible course of action. That being said, our main antidote to those afflicted with these nanites is .. "

"Missing in action. We needn't go over this."

A voice cut through the silence, feminine. A voice tinted by years in their own right, with said years having crossed their path on her facial features; but in the eyes of Six, Rebecca Holiday was as beautiful as the day that they'd first met. Back then, they were young and untethered products of their environments that on paper could never really connect. A reckless mercenary and a put-together but compassionate scientific prodigy - out of everyone, Six felt the most abject sorrow for her, sorrow that she had to be dragged into this madness for the second time in her lifespan. Injustice didn't discriminate, didn't pick and choose its victims, and Rebecca most certainly represented those who fate had unfairly judged. There was a chance that Six and White were getting what they deserved, what they intrinsically needed, but Holiday deserved so much better. She deserved a future. As Six's fingers reached slowly to curl around Rebecca's for a brief squeeze, one could make out the subtle glint of the silver rings that adorned each middle finger.