In His World.

z e r o

I am Kenta. I am Zero. I am the Architect.

My skin is silver, my hair, too. My eyes are pink and I wear the same round glasses as Eight. He needs his for sight. Mine are for the aesthetic.

I like to make things. I like to make things look nice, too.

I make the gadgets, outfits and weapons the operatives need. I work closely with our leader, Nine. The others refer to us together as 'Home Base.'

Sometimes, like now, Nine helps me design new things. He's no good at it, but I appreciate the company and morale. While I let him 'help' - I take a look at my current surroundings.
A couple of operatives train in this private room, sweat dripping, punches flying, hearts pounding. Thier focus is intense, thier energy palpable.
One of them is Four, the Soldier, who trains alone in the corner. Meanwhile, there are two sparring in a ring in the center of the room. There are no safety mats. There are no gloves.

The first has his long black curls tied back from his face, his bronze patterned skin slick with sweat. He wipes a drop from his nose, sniffing once or twice as he paces round and round. His black vest is half undone, his bracelets discarded to the side. All his energy is pouring into this training, he's trying to prove himself. He gives a crooked smile, ready to go again. He is called Six.

The other, the one who trains him, has white hair that was previously brushed back, now flicked forward from the movement. He breathes heavily, but is more calm and collected that the first. He could do this all day. He would, if he had to. His green eyes bore mercilessly into the golden eyes of his trainee. He doesn't smile. He is called Seven.

In a flash of movement, the two collide again, an expert dance of attacking and defending. With a loud bang, Six is swept to the floor, defeated. The room is quiet while the white-haired champion helps Six up, passing him a towel to wipe the blood that trickles from his nose.

"How'd I do, Seven?" Six asks, mopping the blood and sweat away.

"Better," Seven says, not looking back as he walks from the ring. He is the quietest of us all, and yet the room is silent until he leaves.

There's a green-haired operative sat in the corner, his attention lost in a maze of holograms and code. The Hacker. "I think you did well, Six," he says robotically, not looking over.

"Gee, that's so nice of you, One, I'm so glad you were paying attention," Six replies sarcastically, laying flat on his back in the middle of the room. After a moment of catching his breath, he asks, "Any trace of Two?"

I give an astonished look to the the person beside me. Nine doesn't meet my eyes, or, if he does, I can't tell because of the dark shades he wears.

"Two is missing?" I hiss, "Why hasn't anyone told me about this?"

Nine sighs, picking a piece off the scrap pile between us. We'd been tinkering a little before Seven and Six's training session stole our attention. Its hard not to watch when Seven fights. Its hard not to watch him all the time, secretly waiting for something sudden, but fearing him all the same.

"It's on a need-to-know basis, Zero, what would you do, anyway?" Nine asks, his usually confident voice sounding tired.

"I could have built a tracking device programmed to Two's DNA, we could have found him by now!"

Build things; that's what I do. I am, after all, the Architect.

"It would have taken too long. Besides, One's just browsing the city's security footage, we'll have him in no time."