The ringing in my ears was slowly fading, replaced by Niya's calm, clinical assessment of my internal organ damage. "Fractures stabilized. Internal bleeding minimal. Your pain receptors are currently protesting the override protocol. Consider this a success, Xero."
"Success feels an awful lot like a truck hitting me," I groaned, leaning heavily on Jax as we made our way through the still-smoking dock. The remaining smugglers had either fled or were now neatly hog-tied, awaiting Syndicate pickup. The air shimmered with the residual energy of Jax's water attacks and the lingering smell of ozone from Varg's gravitational tantrum.
"Still, you nailed him," Jax said, a wide grin stretching across his crystalline face. "Varg's got a nasty headache coming."
We didn't linger. The Bounty Syndicate operated in the shadows, cleaning up threats that the official F3 and F8 squads often overlooked or deemed too 'low-priority.' The idea was to keep things from spiraling out of control on the ground, and their reputation, while shadowy, was generally positive among the common folk. They got paid in salvaged tech, captured goods, and bounties, a cut of which trickled down to us 'operatives.'
Soon, a sleek, black hover-van arrived, its engines purring softly. A team of Syndicate enforcers, clad in less advanced but still intimidating military-grade suits, swiftly secured the energy crystals and the unconscious Varg. They were efficient, silent, and gave us a wide berth.
"Ghost and Gear," a deep voice rumbled from inside the van. "Good work."
Edward. He stepped out, a mountain of a man with scarred cybernetic implants tracing geometric patterns across his bald head. His eyes, one natural and one glowing red, swept over us, missing nothing. He was the Syndicate's Task Master, a legend whose past was whispered about in hushed tones – ex-F3, ex-F8, ex-everything. Now, he managed the low-level grunts like me.
"Ten missions, Xero," Edward said, his voice a gravelly monotone. "Sixty-seven percent success rate. Impressive, for a civilian."
I bristled slightly. "I'm not a civilian in this suit, Edward."
"No," he agreed, a flicker of something almost like amusement in his good eye. "You're a liability wearing very expensive tech. But you learn fast." He turned to Jax. "Jax, you're cleared for rotation. Good job."
"Thanks, Edward," Jax said, thumping me on the shoulder. "Later, Xero."
"You too, Jax."
Edward fixed his gaze back on me. "We have a new assignment for you. Group mission. Standard patrol routes, but extended, a full month. Cryon City. Details to follow. You'll need to make arrangements."
My stomach dropped. A month? Cryon City? That meant leaving Fambos. Leaving the juice shop. Leaving my family. My double life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
"Understood," I managed, my voice sounding more confident than I felt.
"Dismissed," Edward nodded, and melted back into the shadows of the hover-van.
---
The ride home was quiet, save for Niya's persistent reports on my rapidly healing legs.
"Remarkable regeneration," she mused. "The suit's nanites are working overtime. You should be walking normally within the hour, albeit with a slight limp."
"Great," I grumbled, already anticipating the questions from my parents. "What am I going to tell them this time? 'Oh, hey Mom, Dad, I broke both my legs punching a supervillain'?"
"A plausible excuse will be required," Niya stated, ever so helpful. "Perhaps a fall down a flight of stairs? Or a particularly aggressive market vendor?"
"Hilarious, Niya. Just make sure the suit's completely integrated into my system before I get home. I can't have bits of metal sticking out."
"Done. However, Xero, your cortisol levels are spiking again. You are experiencing significant stress regarding your impending departure."
"No kidding," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "A month. How am I supposed to explain that? My dad will kill me if I bail on the shop for a month."
My mind raced, conjuring image after image of my father's disappointed face. He'd given up so much, sacrificed his own potential for the sake of the family. How could I ask him to understand my own desperate need to not run a juice shop?
The next morning, the familiar chaos of the juice shop felt suffocating. I squeezed fruits with an unusual ferocity, my thoughts miles away. Edward's words echoed: A full month. Cryon City. You'll need to make arrangements.
"Rough morning, son?" my father asked, his usual calm voice like a gentle wave against my internal storm. He was expertly dicing an exotic purple fruit, his movements precise and practiced.
"Something like that, Dad," I muttered, wiping down the counter. How do you tell the man who sacrificed everything for you that you want to ditch his life's work for an entire month to punch criminals?
After my shift, I found Ezun by the market's holographic fountain, scrolling through the latest Hellbuster fights on his commpad.
"Hey," I greeted, slumping onto a nearby bench. "Need your genius, Ezun."
He looked up, amber eyes glinting. "My genius is always available for a price. What's up?"
"I need an excuse. A good one. To get out of Fambos for a month. No questions asked."
Ezun put a crystalline finger to his chin, thinking. "Higher studies? There's that new advanced tech course in Neo-Dresden. Or... you could say you're doing an apprenticeship. Like, uh... an artisan course! Everyone respects artisans."
An artisan course. Something clicked. My father's sacrifice... my passion...
"Ezun, you're a genius," I said, a slow grin spreading across my face. "Pottery."
Ezun blinked. "Pottery? Really?"
"Cryon City has some of the best pottery guilds on Nemesulla!" I said, suddenly invigorated. "It's obscure enough that they won't question it, and it sounds artistic, like I'm 'finding myself.'"
That evening, I sat my parents down. My mother's eyes were already filled with concern, sensing the gravity of the conversation. My father simply listened, his gaze steady.
"Dad," I began, choosing my words carefully. "I... I want to go to Cryon City. For a month. To study pottery."
My mother gasped. "Pottery, Xero? What about the shop?"
"It's about finding my own path, Mom," I said, looking directly at my father. "You always told me about your dreams, Dad. Before... before you started the shop. How you put aside your own passions for us. For family."
My father's expression softened, a flicker of an old memory in his eyes.
"You built this life for us, Dad. And I love you for it. But... I need to explore my own. Just like you chose to follow your heart back then, to nurture this business, I feel drawn to something else. Even if it's just for a month, I need to see what's out there for me. To pursue my own... art."
He was quiet for a long moment, studying me, perhaps seeing a younger version of himself in my restless ambition. Then, he let out a long sigh, a small smile touching his lips. "Pottery, huh? Well, you always did have steady hands. Alright, son. Go. But send us some pictures of your 'masterpieces'."
Relief washed over me, so potent it almost buckled my knees. "Thank you, Dad. Thank you."
---
A few days later, with a heavy bag and a much lighter heart, I met Ezun by the Fambos spaceport.
"So, you're off to become a clay-slinger?" Ezun teased, but there was genuine pride in his voice. "Still, you're leaving a hero-sized hole in Fambos."
I chuckled nervously. "Just because I'm gone doesn't mean the bad guys get a free pass. Edward has me on a group mission. I'll still be... active."
"That's what I wanted to talk about," Ezun said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're a superhero now, buddy. And every superhero needs a name. Something that screams 'I'm here to kick ass and take names'."
"I'm not really a superhero," I argued, though a part of me thrilled at the idea. "I'm just a guy in a suit."
"Exactly! The suit's your power. It's your identity. You're... you're like a code. A new program running through the system. You came from nothing, from 'zero' power, but you're now a force to be reckoned with. You're the upgrade. The next version." Ezun snapped his fingers. "I got it. CodeZero. What do you think?"
I paused, testing the sound. CodeZero. It was understated, cool, and perfectly encapsulated my origin – born without powers, but now operating with a suit that was a marvel of technology. It was me.
"CodeZero," I repeated, a slow smile spreading across my face. "I like it."
---
The Syndicate briefing room in Cryon City was a utilitarian space of reinforced concrete and holographic displays. Edward stood at the head of a long table, his imposing figure casting a long shadow. Four figures sat around it, already introduced and sizing each other up.
"Alright, listen up," Edward's voice cut through the nervous silence. "This is Group 034. You're operating in Cryon and the surrounding wilderness zones for the next month. Standard portal patrols, threat neutralization, intel gathering on the Leafless Group. This is a high-risk sector. Don't get complacent."
He gestured to the first operative. "On my left, we have Blaze. Mid-low Awaken, pyrokinesis, standard military issue suit for power amplification." A human man, his uniform slightly singed, nodded curtly.
"Next, Goliath. Low Awaken, enhanced musculature and density. Good for holding the line." A hulking Krioz, all crystal and muscle, gave a silent nod.
"Phantom," Edward continued, pointing to a slender Nephiz woman whose veins pulsed faintly under her skin. "Mid-low Awaken, intangibility and stealth. Excellent for reconnaissance and disruption." Phantom offered a small, almost invisible smile.
"And finally, Jax. Low Awaken, hydrokinesis. A solid support and offensive asset." Jax, looking surprisingly fresh after our last mission, grinned and gave me a subtle wink.
Edward scanned the group, his gaze lingering on the empty chair beside Jax. "Our final team member is new to group operations, but highly effective in solo assignments." He paused for dramatic effect. "Meet CodeZero."
The name hung in the air, a new identity, a new beginning. I walked in, helmet in hand, my nanite suit humming softly beneath my clothes, and took my place at the table. The other Awakens stared, trying to reconcile the ordinary human in front of them with the formidable legend Edward had just named.
I met their gazes, a ghost of a smirk playing on my lips. "Pleasure to meet you all."