Seven years before…
The world smelled sickly sweet, and Zero turned up his nose, unable to believe someone could live in such a place. Standing in the middle of the room he entered was a girl of about ten years old, wearing rags for clothes.
"Where are your parents? Why are you here?" Zero asked, worried beyond reason. He'd seen situations like hers before, but that didn't mean his empathy was dead.
"Stay away from her! She's a devil, a monster! She'll only drag you down!" A man yelled from afar, crouching behind a table, huddled together with what seemed to be his family.
"What did she do?" Zero asked calmly, staring at the room, seeing nothing out of place. But then, he wasn't a trained eye, so he couldn't judge.
"What didn't she do? Look at us! We live in fear of her every day! When her eyes get glassy, nothing gets through to her. It'd be better talking to solid rock. No, I can't do that anymore." Zero felt sorry for the pathetic man speaking, but he was even more disgusted by the man's actions.
"And who are you to her?" Zero asked, crouching to eye level, staring at the child before him, and holding himself back from beating the man to a pulp.
"I've disowned her, and you can do whatever you want with her. But, let's talk in private." The shifty-eyed look the man gave Zero made him sick to his stomach, but he gave a grim smile and nodded. The man led him out of the pigsty he called home.
"She's the problem child of the neighborhood. She's always been problematic, but now it's worse than before. Now she's out for murder. The other day, I caught her with a pair of scissors. It was probably to poke someone's eyes out. So, I beat her," the man puffed out his chest, pride written all over him, even though he'd done barbaric things.
Zero also noticed the man's clothes; they were relatively new and showed no wear and tear. But that wasn't his place to say; he was there on an assignment.
"Okay, why didn't you call the Defenders? They could have handled this," Zero pointed out, but the man shook his head voraciously as though that was out of the question.
"I did, but they didn't listen to me. I need that witch off my hands." The contempt in the man's voice was palpable, and Zero wondered what the little child did to garner such a level of hate. It felt like there was more to the story than the man said.
"Okay. I'll pay 500 gold. Would that be enough to take her off your hands?" The man fell on his butt as soon as the words left Zero's lips, his eyes roving from side to side as he licked his lips, greed overwhelming his being.
"Ah, you see, she's an important person to me. Sure, she's a problem child, but she's still my child. I can't just give her away," Zero almost rolled his eyes at the stupid man's antics. Not only was the man a lowlife, he was trying to barter the cost of his daughter.
"Okay, I'll be leaving." Zero turned away, and the man held the hem of his garment, almost going on his knees. Zero wasn't sure he'd seen such a pitiful sight before.
"I didn't mean to annoy you. She's just a precious daughter of mine, and I didn't want to give her away just like that. But I'll take your 500 gold," the man babbled on, even though Zero didn't care about a word from his mouth.
Zero removed a leather pouch from the inner sleeve of his jacket and tossed it, watching the man jump like a frog after it. He walked back into the room and stared pointedly at a woman who held two children close to her bosom yet was staring daggers at the one who looked worse for wear.
"What's your name?" Zero said to the little girl, ignoring everyone else.
"My name is Ruby," The girl replied, and Zero placed a hand on her head in a fatherly gesture.
"Okay, Ruby. Let's go." Zero held her hand, and they walked out of the house without a backward glance.
"Ruby!" One of the other children shouted, tears streaming down her face. The mother shushed the child immediately, and Zero spared them a glance, but only once. They didn't deserve anything else.
"A Ruby is a precious gem, isn't it?" Zero asked the little girl.
"It is," the little girl replied, her voice wobbly.
"Okay, it's a precious stone. So, from today, your new name is Crystal." Zero stated, and the little girl beamed up at him like he'd given her the most precious gift in the world.
Lumiere, save me. I'm out of my damned mind.
~~
A trip down memory lane hurt sometimes, but it was extra torturous for Zero that rainy day when the clouds raged against the sky and the forces of heaven clashed.
I should have been stronger.
But he wasn't, and that was the whole point. The Order was becoming more powerful, and soon, he'd be just a pawn in their game and then fodder. To be used and discarded like a piece that's outlived its usefulness. He didn't want to go down that route, but it seemed his only plausible path.
Will you forgive me, Crystal?
But of course, she wasn't there to hear him. He was learning that The Order had known about how she was faring hurt Zero more than he'd like to admit. Usually, he was the perfect soldier, never questioning, never doubting. But now, he was at a crossroads, and he didn't know who to tell about it without being considered a traitor.
Traitors to The Order faced death in the most brutal forms, and Zero wasn't idiotic enough to throw his life away just because. He was more intelligent than that.
But Number 9, he couldn't talk to her. She was wily; he could never tell what she was thinking. And she was the best one out of the Numbers. Or actually, she was the only one out of the Numbers who didn't act like he fell from the sky. Also, she was part of The Order, which made him wonder why she'd even want to abase herself to the level of the Numbers.
In the Order, there are the executives and the workforce. The workforce comprises of the Numbers, the Enforcers, and the Researchers. The Numbers are the highest ranked after the executives; they have immunity and can act independently. The Enforcers mirror the Defenders. They are powerful people who awakened their sigils and wreaked havoc when situations called for it.
They often clashed with the Defenders, but that wasn't Zero's cup of tea. He wasn't sure what he was if he was being honest. He wasn't an executive; neither was he part of the Numbers or the Enforcers. He was a scientist, yet he wasn't part of the Researchers either.
I'm just a rag doll, aren't I? I should have known.
They always used fancy terms for him; they called him the Joker, the Ace, the Wildcard. But he wasn't feeling like any of those things at all. They didn't treat him like that either. Sure, they said he was the "leader" of the Numbers, but that was also bogus.
They had him where they wanted him, and they knew it. He had to decide what to do soon, or the wave would come.
And the Purge would begin. He needed to get his head straight before then, or there wouldn't be much left of him after everything was over.
He picked a card from a deck, threw it into the air, and caught it, lightning flashing at that moment, showing a determined yet scary look in his eyes.
"It's time for the next phase of the plan," he spoke to the empty room and threw the card on the table.
It was an Ace.