RPG Maverick Hunters: Personification

[James]

[color=#808080]Proteus, Demos and Iota crept through the eerily silent passageways. The passageways were as sterile as ever; the reploids could even smell the scent of anti-static chemicals on the walls. All three reploids were carrying various arms (both conventional and reploid-based) in large military bags, which they were shouldering. It was not difficult to shoulder such a load; a single bag would probably have required six or seven men to carry it. But the hydraulic muscles of reploids were many thousands of times stronger than standard human muscles. And as such, this chore was relatively easy.

Proteus briefly consulted his internal map. The trio had moved up several levels and were now on Sub Level B2, which was primarily used for storing standard firearm munitions for human troops.

Proteus turned to the others. "We need to find a hovercar and get out of here!"

The other two reploids paused for a moment, as though deep in thought. Demos clicked his fingers almost immediately. "It's a bit risky, but we can take an APC. There is at least one garage full of second generation APCs; they are rarely used. If we can just get down there and make our way past the Barrier Checkpoint, we can make our way through the desert."

The others nodded. They began to walk towards the nearest elevator, which led directly to the underground APC docking bay (which consisted of around 52 APC ports with seperate APC types). But as they did so, the sound of metal clanging echoed throughout the nearby corridors.

"Security Droids!" exclaimed Iota. She was right; the droids were not sent directly to look for the three reploids, but they [i]were[/i] sent to secure the area. If the group was found with unauthorized weapons, the entire sector would be after them...

Demos carefully lay one of his ammunition bags on the floor and pressed the "up" button on the elevator's outer control panel. Just as Proteus, the last to enter, disappeared inside the elevator, a loud blast of gunfire erupted behind him. The doors closed rapidly and the three reploids moved to the sides of the elevator car. As they did so, tiny beams of light penetrated the darkness; the elevator door was being torn to shreds by armor-piercing titanium bullets.

"Damn those droids!" exclaimed Demos angrily. The elevator jolted and paused, as an electronic whirring sound was heard from underneath the floor.

"Looks like we're stuck," said Proteus. Demos nodded and opened the ammunition bag. He pulled out an R-Class Shotgun and gripped the handle tightly. The shotgun itself was made of two primary parts -- a static handle and a "sawn-off" twin-barrel extension. To reload, it was necessary to jerk the handle upwards slightly, causing the twin barrels to briskly rotate a full 360 degrees. While this was considered a "manual" firearm (and thus was never required by Maverick Hunters, who posessed their own busters and beam sabres), it was definitely one of Demos' weapons of choice.

The gunfire from the outer corridor fell silent. Proteus and Iota could only barely make out Demos' figure in the darkness. Obviously, the local security administrators had disengaged all of the elevators within their sector. Proteus wondered how they'd make it out of there.

Within moments, the elevator's heavy doors began to rattle; the security droids were attempting to cut their way through.

Demos' grin was not visible to the others, but they somehow [i]knew[/i] that he was grinning to himself. "Persistent little bastards, aren't they?"

The doors slowly opened. But it wasn't the droids who were opening them; it was Demos. He forced the heavy doors open with his hydraulic arms and was greeted by five gun barrels.

Demos eyed the five security droids slowly. "Nice..."

There were two droids directly nearby, one behind them and two a little further back. Proteus likened it to the pattern of the five dots on a dice cube. The nearest droid's attention was squarely placed on Demos.

"Lay down your weapon and raise your arms immediately, or Maverick Hunters Security Squad 1,098 will exercise the use of lethal force," it said in a monotone robotic voice.

Demos' grin widened at this warning. "I love a challenge," he snickered.

Almost immediately, Demos grabbed the first droid's arm. Within a split second, the droid to his right lunged forward. Demos grabbed the second droid's arm and slammed the two droids together forcefully, resulting an a deafening crash that echoed down the nearby hallways. He then pushed each droid, causing them to tumble backwards over their own feet. Shotgun armed, Demos stared at the other three droids. "Want some?" he taunted.

All three closed in immediately. Demos tripped the first droid and as it fell to the ground, he fired a single round at the second droid causing its head to explode. At almost the same time, he delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the third droid's aluminium chest plate, sending it spiralling backwards on to the floor.

Proteus jumped from the elevator and joined Demos. He aimed his buster at the fallen droid and fired a single energy blast, which caused the droid's body to erupt in a ball of orange and green fire.

"Overkill, don't you think?" joked Demos.

"It was about to get up," said Proteus calmly -- but not without a mischevious glint in his eye.[/color]

[Warlock]

Desert. Endless desert. Nothing but sand, rock, the occasional plant, and a not-too-big city of slime and crime, called [I]Xen[/I], but more commonly referred to as the [I] Badlands [/I] by those who didn?t live there.

As the sun rose on the distant horizon, and the temperature shot up, nothing moved in the very centre of nowhere?

Well, almost nothing.

As numerous pieces of reploids, such as the arms of a metallic octopus, and the tail of a robot lizard, were left as scrap around a steep cliff, two dark figures, two dark figures of great might, clashed nearby.

One was a Maverick general, well known for his exploits during the first and third Maverick riot. Both times, he had been slain by X, the greatest creation of the legendary Dr. Light. With an energy cannon on one shoulder, and a missile launcher on the other, he stank of pure evil.

The other, by coincidence, was the brother of X. Not Proto Man, or Mega Man, but Warlock, least known of the Light Family, older brother of X, and most likely the oldest A.I. alive. With a buster formed over his right hand, and an energy sabre able to be formed by the left, he was a picture of experience and power melded as one.

Both reploids were of the same height, both with rather black armour (though granted, Warlock has touches of red), and both were in a fight for survival.

?Really now, must we keep on fighting?? Vile?s dark voice spoke from beneath his Boba Fett like helmet. ?You and I both know we can?t defeat the other. We both know we?re invincible. So why fight it??

Gritting his teeth, Warlock rolled to the side, barely avoiding a lethal punch from the Maverick General. ?Fight what, exactly??

A cackle came from the maniacal reploid. ?You know what I speak of. The urge. The urge to slaughter the humans and their guardians. Join us, join the Mavericks, and become a GOD!?

Warlock growled, before shooting off several globs of red-hot plasma. Vile was promptly hit, and he staggered back.

??I see you believe you can fight the urge. Inconceivable. Admit it, or things might get a little painful.? The Maverick then chuckled.

The Light creation leapt to the side, barely dodging a missile, only to land in the path of a barrage of missiles. Armour cracking slightly, he was sent flying several metres. But before slamming into the sand, he was able to twist in mid air, and landed on his feet.

?I cannot admit something that does not exist. You know who I am. What I do.? Warlock growled, before extending his left hand. A bright flash of red later, and a sabre of pure energy was held loosely in the rogue?s hand. ?You?re preaching to the wrong crowd, Vava.?

Vile paused, before the glow of his red eye grew slightly. ?Do? Not? Call? Me? THAT!?

The Maverick?s cannon hummed, before several blasts of plasma were sent rocketing at Warlock. Several quick slashes of his Cossack Sabre later, and the plasma was reflected, smashing into the sand and exploding.

?Why not? Is it not your real name??

Vile growled, and leaped at Warlock. Bringing his right leg up, he sent a roundhouse at the other reploid?s head, who merely ducked under it, before thrusting forward with his sabre, briefly impaling the Maverick.

?Vava, I know your history. You?ve always been crazy. You were crazy before Sigma was, and you were crazy after he released you from the Hunter prison.? Warlock growled, and slashed at Vile again, this time missing. ?I was there. You know I was. You killed Epsilon. Almost killed Factor. And if you had had it your way, you would?ve tried to kill Flash and X too, destroy my family and friends.? A chuckle. ?Not like you would?ve had a chance against them, let alone me!?

The reploid once known as Vava snarled, inserting his fist into Warlock?s gut, then unleashing a powerful blast of energy into the ?good guy? of the fight, sending him flying back.

?Fine. I guess we?ll just have to do this the hard way then, Warlock.?

And grinning, he launched into the air, his thrusters keeping the Maverick in the air long enough to gain on the former Hunter, and rain down missile after missile after missile.

A fatal mistake.

Using the explosions as cover, Warlock disappeared in a short-range teleportation (more commonly referred to as a blink), appearing /above/ General Vile, sabre pointed down.

Gravity quickly took hold.

The reploid smashed into the Maverick, pointy end first. While Vile?s neural net was barely missed by the blade, his power core, just below the neck, was not. Screaming in pain, Vile fell to the ground, Warlock falling with him.

With a sickening thud, Vile became rather intimate with the sand as the brother of X withdrew his sabre from the robotic body it had infiltrated, before flipping back through the air, landing in front of the slowly deactivating Maverick.

?Your time is up, Vava. This time, they won?t have anything to rebuild you from,? Warlock said, his voice neutral.

When Vile did not reply, the former Maverick Hunter raised his buster, pointing it at his opponent. It quickly began to charge.

?Goodbye, Vile.?

?I think not, rogue,? came a mysterious voice from [I] behind [/I] Warlock.

The reploid in red and black quickly began to spin, to point his weapon at this new arrival. He was too late.

As a blast of super concentrated plasma knocked into Warlock, knocking out the already badly injured reploid, a towering structure of metal stepped forward, glaring down.

He didn?t say anything. He didn?t move. He just glared down at the creation of the late Dr. Light, before his mouth broke out in a grin, and he cackled, bald head moving back and forth all the while?

----------------------

OOC: I hope that looks good. Not writing anything of this sort for several months quickly wears down on your writing skills. -_-

[James]

[color=#808080]Proteus, Demos and Iota left the scene and jumped back into the elevator.

"The power hasn't been restored," said Proteus, "so we won't be able to use this elevator to reach any of the sub levels."

Demos rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We're going to have to take the stairs," he said. Proteus and Iota both nodded, picking up their share of gun-laden bags.

The three reploids ran down the expansive white corridor, passing countless grey doors with seemingly random numbers painted on them. It was like a sterile maze, something that would have made any human being feel uneasy and intimidated. Thankfully, the reploids were all equipped with elaborate three dimensional maps of the facility and thus, escape was a far more simple prospect.

Finally, the reploids came across an enormous starway, which led down into the darkness below. Demos nodded and led the way, with Proteus and Iota following close behind. The stairway itself seemed to last forever - the reploids were jogging down the stairs at a brisk pace for at least ten minutes without seeing anything but darkness ahead. But soon enough, soft blue light could be seen at the end. As they neared it, the light became brighter and brighter until they found themselves in a cavernous underground parking garage, bathed in the soft blue laser light.

The garage was filled with dozens and dozens of APCs of various kinds. The most common APCs (like the Alpha) were capable of holding around 12 personnel inside and were significantly equipped machines. They were the workhorses of the Maverick Hunters. But a little further in the distance, the three reploids could see a group of much larger vehicles. Heavy APCs.

Without needing to say a single word to one another, the reploids dashed across the cool cement flooring of the garage until they reached the HAPCs. There were five of them, in pristine condition no less.

"Looks like they've just been washed," said Demos with a mischevious smirk. "Hurry, we've gotta load these weapons into the back before we're caught. Iota, Proteus...you guys get to loading. I'll go up front and bypass the cabin security."

Proteus and Iota didn't need to be told twice; they grabbed as many bags of weaponry and ammunition as they could and opened the HAPC's rear gate. The gate folded out slowly, as the powerful hydraulic arms struggled to manipulate the heavy steel doors. The interior was remarkably large. The entire HAPC was around 16 metres long and on the inside, a thin hallway and several small rooms were visible. Command Center, Batallion Coordination Room, Wing Command; they were all there. Impressive, even to an Elite Hunter.

Proteus and Iota began lifting the heavy bags and piling them up in several large storage containers, which sat snugly against the interior walls.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," sighed Iota quietly.

"What do you mean?" asked Proteus. He looked at Iota, who was busily arranging the bags and making sure that the firearms were secure.

"You know...[i]this[/i]. Betraying Hunter HQ like this," she said, an ounce of tension in her voice.

"But we're not betraying the HQ," said Proteus, "we are just doing what's right. That situation back there, with the ALED...I don't know what that was. But it wasn't right. And Duke, I don't know. I am afraid of what might happen to this place."

Iota stopped and looked at Proteus. Her gaze was intense. She might not be human, but her microfiber titanium eyes were more human now than they'd ever been before.

"But don't you see? All we are thinking about is Hunter HQ. We have to remember that Duke ordered that attack on the ALED. He [i]must[/i] have known who they were, Proteus. The Commander is supposed to have that kind of information; he'd never have ordered us into that situation if he wasn't sure about it."

"What are you saying, Iota?" asked Proteus.

"I'm saying...that this could be far bigger than we can imagine. What happens if there are more attacks on the ALED? What happens when the public loses faith in the Hunters?"

Proteus shook his head slowly. "But the people will never lose faith in us..."

"Proteus...I'm afraid that we could be on the verge of something disasterous," said Iota softly. She glanced down at her feet.

"What?"

Iota paused and looked up at Proteus once more. "A war, Proteus."

The pair stood still for several moments, collecting their thoughts. But the silence was soon broken, as the HAPC's plasma engines began to rumble quietly. A soft blue glow emerged from underneath the hull and the entire vehicle slowly rose several inches from the ground.

Proteus smiled. "That Demos...he's good."

Iota nodded and smiled. But it was an awkward smile. Proteus could tell that she was deeply worried. He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled once more.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here," he said.

The two reploids disappeared inside the HAPC's darkened inner hull, as the rear gate closed behind them with the soft whir and hiss of robotic parts operating in unison.

The massive HAPC slowly trundled forward through the air, toward the garage's main exit ramp. The tough part was still ahead though, and the three reploids knew it. They'd have to get past the Barrier Guns and Barrier Security if they were to escape.[/color]

[Chaos]

[i]Rapid-fire pellets of plasma ripped from under debris of a building. They tore the rocks and steel beams to shreads, making harsh holes appear through the layers of junk. After a minute had past, the objects looking like they had been through a blender, a powerful explosion kicked them into the air, along with a fair amount of dust.

And from that dust, Havoc staggered out, coughing. He had been mere blocks from the Protogen attack, and was caught off-guard. He had been buried in debris in less than a second, and had been knocked off line for a short while.

But look who's back again.

He quickly brought up a trace map on his HUD, green lines tracing in and out with various-colored dots within the shapes the lines formed. The lines, grid displays of buildings, roads, subways, and just about everything inanimate. Blue dots signified humans, orange were Hunter-employeed personel, and red was his brother, Demos. He was pretty far off, and underground.

Havoc looked around, surveying his surroundings. Fires burning madly, buildings were shattered, stone cracking and glass scattered along the ground. A huge crator was seen about fifty meters off, rubble keeping about a twenty foot radius away from it. Whatever happened, it was damn powerful.

Havoc sighed, and disabled the map on his HUD. [/i]

[color=seagreen]Establishing secure radio link...
Please designate medium for radio link...

...
...
... ... ...Link "Satalite JH0129-Levia" entered.
...

...Loading medium...
...
...

...Medium locatled; link established. Continuing to locate subject 'Demos; Proj.Drake-Lev02'
...

...Subject located; link completed.[/color]

[b]Havoc:[/b] ("Demos, where are you? It's like Hell out here. Something really ****ed the city over.")

[b]Demos:[/b] ("Meet us at the outer edge of the city. Use stealth this time, brother. We have a damned situation; I'll inform you on it later. We're about half a mile from the barrier. Contact us through the satalite again when you're within the same range. Over and out.")

[color=seagreen]Conection terminated.[/color]

[Warlock]

A soft red hue illuminated what appeared to be a conference room, as several high ranking reploids sat scattered in the chairs, waiting, if slightly impatientely. A gigantic chair, or more appropriately, a gigantic throne, sat at the front of the large centre table.

It obviously belonged to someone very, very important.

Sharing glances, the reploids continued to wait as the minutes ticked by, doing their best to look happy.

Then, suddenly, the floor shook slightly, and the sound of great, powerful footsteps drew near. The reploids sat up straight in their chairs, and looked to the entrance, awaiting their leader.

Finally, as the footfalls grew louder, a shape appeared, walking in through the tall door, and having to bend forward not to scrape it's top.

But as soon as he was in fully, he was able to stand at his full height, the conference room ceiling very high up. With a grin on his face, he slowly glanced around.

"...I see you are all well," came his voice. A voice well known, to both good and bad.

The voice of Sigma.

The currently gigantic Sigma held up his hand, palm forward, stopping any reploids from speaking.

"Before we begin, I believe you would like to know of the fate of our General?" Sigma said, a smirk still present on his face. "He was badly damaged in his skirmish, but shall recover in time."

The reploids, obviously high ranking Mavericks, looked relieved. Sigma slowly made his way to his throne, before sitting down in it.

"Emperor?" A feline reploid asked, hesitantly, obviously not wanting to annoy Sigma. "What of the rogue, Warlock?"

Laughing slightly, Sigma stared directly at the feline, his eyes peircing through the Maverick. "...I am glad you asked. Warlock is, as we speak, been repaired."

The Maverick suddenly looked at each other, confused. Why was one of their enemies been repaired?

"I can see by your faces that you think I have gone crazy. I assure you, I have not. For Warlock is been repaired because I have a use for him." Sigma said cryptically, raising both hands, palms first, as the signal to go to other topics.

-------------------------------------

Leaning over the body of Warlock, a small one-eyed reploid replaced the final plate of armor, before taking a step back, smiling.

"Is he repaired?" came a dark voice from the shadows of the small repair bay.

The small mechanic turned around, surprised, before nodding. "Uh... Yes, sir!"

Slowly, the floor shook, as Sigma appeared, gazing down at the unconcious body of Warlock and the small reploid. "Excellent. Now, keep an eye on his neural net... I believe it's time I infected him."

The small reploid's eye widened, before he began to stutter. "B-But, do yo-you r-reall-ly think f-f-forced infection wou-ould be wise?"

"I know of the risks. But this one is strong. He will survive," came Sigma's reply.

Pausing, the mechanic glanced from Sigma to Warlock, before nodding, and retreating to a mobile console. "E-Emperor, whenever you are ready."

Grinning, Sigma nodded, before taking a step forward, and placing his massive palm on top of Warlock's chest.

For a few moments, the only sound came from the 'medical' equipment scattered around the room, before the lights began to dim.

The Maverick Emperor, however, didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn't care. For he seemed slightly preoccupied, purple electricity, which almost seemed ready to explode, running up and down the top of his arm.

Before running down in Warlock, and dispersing.

Quite suddenly, the Light bot began to shake, trying to get out of Sigma's grip. And at his console, the mechanic began to worry.

"Neural net readings are degrading! It appears ready to activate a self deletion!"

Growling, Sigma whipped his head around, glaring at the mechanic. "If I loose my prize now, you will loose your head."

Visibly gulping, the mechanic could only glance at the readings he was getting...

Before, quite suddenly, Warlock came to a complete halt, and the readings returned to normal.

"Emperor..." The Maverick started. "...Everything appears to be normal. The neural net appears normal, except of course for the infection."

Sigma grinned, letting go of Warlock, but not moving from his position. "Activate him."

The small mechanic nodded, before clicking a button on his console.

Slowly, the older brother of X opened his eyes, shallow, despising optics glancing around.

A look most commonly seen in the optics of a Maverick.

[James]

[color=#335062]The enormous HAPC trundled its way towards Barrier Gate 1. This particular gate was located on the western edge of Maverick Hunter Headquarters and was only a few blocks from the city outskirts. Barrier Gate 1 was the hunters' quickest route to the desert.

Demos, Iota and Proteus were all sitting in the HAPC's cavernous cockpit. It was quite a unique experience, compared to their adventures on the Alpha. Where the Alpha was designed as a balance between high speed travel and significant armor capability, the Impact (which they were riding in) was a slower and more heavily armored machine. The Impact was also much larger than the Apha. Perhaps twice as large, but the hunters' estimates. The cockpit did not sit at the very front of the vehicle, unlike in the Alpha. Rather, the cockpit sat behind a large turret, which was capable of rotating a full 360 degrees. The turret contained a powerful Laser Cannon, which was capable of flattening most other forms of machinery. Therefore, for those inside the cockpit, there was no direct view of the outside world. The cockpit contained a single window on the right-hand side, which was heavily tinted and bulletproof. But the front and left sides contained nothing but large plasma screens, which were attached to the interior walls. The screens served a variety of functions; mission control, navigation, battalion coordination, long distance communication, battle system coordinators, flight controls and more. A sweeping bench protruded from the front wall of the cockpit. It contained a myriad of buttons and other small displays. Three chairs sat in front of it, each one loaded with heavy harnesses. The chair in the middle was for the HAPC's pilot. The chair on the right was for the HAPC's communicator, who was responsible for coordinating all communications from the HAPC to wherever else. And finally, the third chair -- on the left -- was for the battle coodinator, who was responsible for organizing the HAPC's weapons systems and directing primary battle tactics during an engagement. There was a space behind the three seats, with another eight seats running around the walls. These seats were reserved for other hunters, who had more specific duties (such as commanding specific squads of deployed units). Overall, it was a more intimidating setup than that in the Alpha.

Still, Demos experienced no problem piloting the vehicle. Proteus was charged with battle controls and Iota for communications. But because their primary goal was simply to escape the city, both Proteus and Iota could afford a little relaxation, though neither felt particularly relaxed.

Demos concentrated intently on the wrap around holographic screen, which levitated comfortably around his head. The screen gave him a 180 degree view of the area outside the Impact, thanks to dozens of microcameras, which sat embedded in the ship's hull.

After roughly twenty minutes of travelling, the Impact approached Barrier Gate 1. There were several Security Officers milling around the area, thanks to the security alert. Several of the human officers stood in front of the Impact and raised their open palms, gesturing for the vehicle to stop. While at the same time, another officer approached the single window on the cockpit's right-hand side wall. Demos glanced over at Proteus, who nodded knowingly. He knew what he had to do. He had to lie, and effectively if they were going to leave without arousing suspicion.

Proteus walked over to the window and touched the pressure sensor on the wall. The window swifly slid down and disappeared into the door. The Security Officer, who stood just beyond the window, looked up at Proteus.

"Hey there, where abouts are ya going?" he asked sharply, as though he'd asked the question a million times already that day.

"We're just going to check out a containment leak that has been reported in Sector 1,786," replied Proteus with convincing certainty.

The officer glanced at his fellow officers momentarily and looked back up at Proteus. "I see. Well, we haven't heard about any containment leaks in that area," he said.

Proteus nodded slowly. "Yes, this incident has been brought to our attention, as we are the only unit capable of handling it at the current time."

"Given the increased security situation," the officer began, "I think it only appropriate for me to send another officer with you, to monitor your progress."

Demos and Iota both looked at Proteus nervously. Proteus shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "I'm afraid that's not possible, officer," he said.

"Oh? And why is that?" the officer snapped.

"Because the leak is reported to have originated from a bio-weapons factory. Apparently, the substance is L-104," said Proteus.

The officer raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"Officer," said Proteus in an authoritative tone, "this substance is highly dangerous to all non-mechanical life forms. The effect radius of this substance is one kilometre. We are going to be [i]handling[/i] this substance ourselves. If we handle it, nothing will happen to us. We are the only people who can safely contain the leak."

The officer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So what would happen if we went along with you?"

"Well, you can go if you like..." said Proteus, "...but if you get anywhere near this substance, your skin will begin to tear and peel as a reaction. If that happens, we'll need to get you to a hospital quickly, because this process would expose your internal organs in a matter of minutes."

The officer removed his hat and scratched his head. The expression on his face was now not one of resolute authority, but rather, confusion.

"Err, alright then...in that case, it's probably better that we don't go with you...er...on your way," he stuttered. And with that, he raised his hand and gestured for the other officers to move aside. As they did so, the enormous Barrier Gate began to hiss on its hydraulic arms and slowly open.

"Thank you," said Proteus with a satisfied grin. He saluted the officer as the dark tinted window slowly closed.

"Phew, that's that," said Proteus, as he sat down in his chair.

Demos and Iota chuckled to themselves quietly, as the Impact slowly lurched forward between the gates, toward the city streets. Proteus was glad that Demos and Iota hadn't forgotten how to laugh.[/color]

[Flash]

The Doors to Duke's office were blasted off their hinges with a massive shell of plasma energy. At once, Duke stood up, alarmed and confused. A shadowy figure emerged from the cloud of smoke, trails of vapour still flowing upwards from his freshly-used Buster. Reverb's emerald green eyes met Dukes, and for a moment that seemed like an eternity, they looked into each others very souls, be they artificial or not.

Slowly, a grin spread across Duke's face as an air of arrogance seemed to raise about him. "Are you pleased with the damage you've caused, Reverb?" The menacing man asked, a subtle note of falseness underlying his tone. Reverb looked to his side, a deactivated security droid lying in pieces about him, internal sensors strewn across the floor, gaping lazer burn in his chest. Reverb felt slightly remorseful, but pushed the feeling back, reminding himself that the robot was no longer a piece of independant AI, but a mindless drone of Dukes. "No, not that," Duke said, as if to mock the Reploid. "The terrorist attack on the Western region of the HQ. Are you happy with yourself? Glad to see that you've taken so many innocent lives?"
"What in Gods name are you talking about, Duke? We weren't responsible for that attack!" Reverb shouted, his fists tightening. Duke raised an eyebrow, looking slightly bemused.
"Hmm. Intruiging. I don't know whether to believe you--then again, perhaps you've already killed enough civilians for the time being, eh?" Duke chuckled, looking on a plasma screen to the right of him, a newscast of the power refinery incident.

Reverb's eyes closed, and he cursed under his breath. With a flicker of anger, he wrenched his neck upwards, shooting a piercing stare straight into Duke. The pale man flinched, but the reaction was short lived. At once, he began to smile, and crossed his arms.
"Duke... Why?" Reverb questioned, his voice filled with anger. "Why did you order us to kill those civilians?"
"Easy," The man replied. "They were in my way. The ALED were responding to a dispatch to do with an incident at the facility, regarding my personal agenda. Of course, if you hadn't annihilated them before they found out... Well, it would have cost me alot of time, which is something I don't have. As for the Green Hunters... They're mine. Slowly, they will leak their way throughout the veins of the Maverick Hunter Network. Once their contamination is complete... Well, I will have complete control over the Maverick Hunters."
"So that's it, huh?" Reverb said, tensing up. "You're just a madman bent on domination."
"Ha ha... A [i]machine[/i] like you could never grasp the concepts of a dreamer such as myself," retorted Duke. "The Revelation of the Black Library. The Reploid-Complementation Plan. Apotheosis of Man. Exodus."
"What insanity are you talking about?!"
"Perhaps you'll learn, in the next life."

Duke drew and fired his weapon faster then anyone Reverb had encountered, either Reploid or Human. The hollow-point slug ripped through Reverb's cheek, and broke some of the optical wiring to his right eye. His vision dimmed, and began to produce static. The Hunter grabbed his face in agony, the artificial pain seeming ever more potent than the real. Duke unloaded another shot at the Reploid, but Reverb dodged it, scurrying out of the way, drawing his Progressive Sabre. He crouched behind a filing cabnet. From the door to Duke's office, however, came a score of Green Hunters, armed to the teeth, and firing in all directions. Duke folded his arms, and laughed. The Hunters ran towards Reverb, guns blazing. A big mistake. One by one, the Green Hunters fell, each cleaved in two by a swift single stroke of Reverb's superior weapon. Coolant and wiring was scattered across the floor, as Reverb continued his graceful display of prowess and deadly grace with his blade.

Finally, the last Hunter slumped to the floor, beheaded. Reverb held his weapon vertically in front of him, as the blade's purple aura faded, and the humming of the sonic vibration system slowly died. Reverb sheathed his weapon, and grinned at Duke, who simply scowled back.
"Nice try, Duke. But you forget; I'm a Maverick Hunter Elite." Reverb said with a confident voice; his words echoed in the cavernous room. "Even with one eye out, your minions are still no match for me."
"Ha, ha. I didn't want them to kill you. I wanted [i]you[/i] to kill [i]them[/i]."
"What!?"
Duke laughed, and clicked his fingers at one of the large monitors to the side of the office. Reverb turned and looked, seeing himself on a Newscast, with text scrolling along the bottom of the screen: [i]'Unstable Hunter sucumbs to Maverick Virus; 20 Maverick Hunters killed by Crazed Maverick "Reverb"...'[/i]. His eyes grew wide as he watched in horror as the station showed a replay of his slaughtering of Duke's Hunters. He gritted his teeth, and looked up into the corner of the room, spying an optical recorder. With a careless shot of his Buster, he dismantled it in a display of plasma-born fire.

"Go, Reverb," Duke commanded. "Run, before they find you. Run to the Desert. Seek refuge in the City of Sin."
"No Duke. I won't. I'll kill you, even if I die trying."
"Believe me, Reploid, you will die trying!" the Human roared, drawing his beam rapier, and lunging at Reverb. Before the Hunter Elite could react, the lazer-blade pierced into his chest, sending a massive shockwave of agony through his entire frame. He bore the pain, and stared Duke straight in the eye.
"I was hoping it wouldn't... Come to this," Reverb spluttered, blue coolant running from his mouth. Just as Flash had before him, he mentally accessed his Self-Destruct System. Duke simply shook his head with a smile on his face, and swiped his rapier sideways, the blade cutting through the wiring to Reverb's power reactor. Reverb's face went grey, his emulated emotion turning to one of disbelief and hopelessness. Duke howled with laughter, and slid his sabre effortlessly through Reverb's left arm, and kicked the Reploid to the ground.
"Where have I seen that before? Oh yes, your predescesor, the valiant, selfless Flash." Duke scoffed, pushing his weapon through Reverb's stomach. All the pain was gone from him now. "Foolish Reploid. As I expected, you were nothing of a threat. Goodbye."

Duke pulled the weapon from Reverb's stomach, and rose his right foot over the Hunter's face. He stomped down, the force behind the boot capable of kicking through a steel wall. Reverb's metallic skull was crushed, and his CPU was shattered beyond repair. His vision flashed red, the message 'CRITICAL SKULL PRESSURE' flickering on his HUD for a second. But before he even knew what was going on, his vision went blank, and his robotic brain ceased to function. His head was crushed between the sole of Duke's boot and the steel-plated floor of the office. Duke grinned with a sadistic look of pleasure spreading across his face. He turned to face the mass of screens behind him, as another squad of Green Hunters stormed into the room, forming a circle around Reverb's body, and began to riddle his lifeless frame with lazer pellets.

[James]

[color=#335062]After approximately an hour of travel, the Impact began to reach the city outskirts. The outskirts of Novus Concordia ended abruptly and, unlike most of the world's large cities, it didn't consist of ghettos and dark alleyways. Rather, the outer edge of Novus Concordia's "center gap" (as it was known, due to the fact that it was essentially a large desert in the [i]middle[/i] of the continent-sized city) contained an impressive series of stone walls. At the top of the walls, some of the most expensive housing estates could be seen. This area was prime land -- a great view of the massive desert beyond and the city behind.

Several roadways snaked their way past these enormous stone walls and criss-crossed through the desert, to other sides of Novus Concordia. Of course, unless one owned a plasma-engined vehicle, the massive distance (thousands of kilometers) between each entry gate was significant. And it took over a week for poorer classes to travel, which is why the vast bulk of travellers were middle-class and rich. This is also why the Desert Highways were known for one thing; highway robbery. It was rampant in the desert, as the ALED had no presence there. Novus Concordia officials deemed the area "too hostile" to "waste money" on.

The desert was also home to a large city (though small by Novus Concordia standards), called [i]Xen[/i]. Xen was a city with more than twice the number of jails than Novus Concordia itself. There was one good reason for this; the desert was Novus Concordia's dumping ground. Prisoners and even ex-prisoners were often sent to Xen. As a result, Xen became little more than a run-down industrial wasteland. Still, for many it was a peaceful place -- very little authority to restrict one's life. This was probably why Warlock was so attracted to it. He certainly wasn't a criminal, though he'd been labeled one before (due to the historical airstrike incident in years past). Nonetheless, he was a good natured reploid who lived a very human existence.

As the Impact began to sail its way over the desert highway, Proteus sat back in his chair and pondered what life in Xen must be like. Proteus himself had always been one to follow orders. And he'd always done so obediently, without ever questioning the humans who were often responsible for commanding him. Even now, that was still a part of his design. And he couldn't escape it. Yet, for the first time ever, he had strong doubts about humanity in general. Dr. Karman's betrayal and the problems surrounding Duke. Proteus could never understand why Warlock would be satisfied with a life of exile, but now Proteus himself began to see things from Warlock's eyes, to some extent. Betrayal at the hand of man.

A small, pulsating dot appeared on the wrap-around navigation screen that Demos was staring into intently. And soon, a soft static echoed throughout the cabin.

"It's Havoc," said Demos, "Iota, can you lock onto his position and open a connection from here?"

Iota fiddled with various buttons on the communications display and turned to Demos. "Yeah, go ahead. You can talk now," she said.

"Havoc, this is Demos. I'm going to send you our location; we'll slow down and let you catch up," said Demos.

The audio crackled momentarily and then a voice was heard.

[i]"Yeah, sure. I'm on my way."[/i]

Proteus stood up and walked toward the cabin's exit hatch. "Demos, I'm just going to prepare the Service Center out back, incase Havoc needs any repairs," he said.

Demos didn't turn around, but nodded in approval, his attention still focused on the holographic screen in front of him.[/color]

[Warlock]

Warlock stood upon the roof of one of the few stable skyrisers in Xen, the massive form of Sigma beside him. Together, they merely looked down at the city, and the very distant outlines of Novus Concordia, so very far away, yet so close...

"You have your orders," the gargantuan form of Sigma stated. "Join up with your 'friends', then undermine them. But do not reveal your true nature. Not until the plans are complete. If we are to have a war, I wish for it to happen when we are at are peak. As such, things will be a while. And remember, take advantage of the current situation with the Hunters and the ALED. Wane it in our favor. Understand?"

The mouth of Warlock merely smiled, before taking a step towards the edge of the roof. "...Of course."

"Excellent. Now, go." Sigma then smiled. "Enjoy your new toys."

The former Hunter just gave Sigma a quick glance, before leaping from the roof.

"...Will he be stable?"

A small form, hidden from view earlier, replied. The techician from earlier. "I... do not know. His systems are completely different from the ordinary design of a reploid. And his neural net... The chances of him becoming unstable are high. The chance of his neural net rejecting the virus are lower, but... I think there's something we're missing.

Sigma just stared forward, purple eyes glaring forward at the landscape. "...Make sure an eye is kept on him. If he eventually fights the virus, I want him eliminated. He knows too much."

---------------------------------

His body twisting and turning as he fell, Warlock plummeted towards the ground, while looking completely calm. But as seconds quickly ticked by, it became obvious that Warlock currently had no way of saving himself from a horrible death. Unless he did something soon, another former member of the Elite Squadron would be killed...

Mere seconds from the ground, the ex-Hunter quickly formed his buster, and pointed it at the wall a few feet to his left. An energy 'rope' flew out, connected to the wall, and sent Warlock swinging towards where it connected.

However, putting his legs forward, Warlock hit the wall and rebounded off of it, the energy grappling hook disentangling from the wall and zipping back into it's source, the buster.

And with completely graceful movements, Warlock lightly hit the ground, before bouncing back onto the tip of his feet and sprinting off, to his home/repair business. He would have to be there, incase he got some unexpected visitors...

As soon as he was halfway down the street, he disappeared, teleporting further down the street, then continuing his sprint...

[Warlock]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Dynete [/i]
[B]"Wake up! Wake up! Hey!!! O.K. ugghh! How...dare...you defi...me."

Dynete:Whoa. The same dream. (background: all mavrick hunters please report to the H.Q. now.) Well I better get going. thump,thump,thump.

???: Well I wonder what that dream is? Oh well, I havepay him back for defing me.

Signas: Well hunters, there as been a recent increas on mavrics everywhere. We must find a way to stop them and bring back peace.

Dynete: You... it's you. How did you find me? I thought i killed you!

???: Well you didn't. I have made my self a mavric! Just call me, Dark Chaos!

Dynete: Well Dark Chaos, don't you think it's pretty stupid to be a mavric in a place with mavric hunters evrywhere you look!

Dark Chaos: No, cause i can teleport. Bye! Zzziiip!

Dynete:Wha, where did that freak go!

Signas: Dynete! Please, it's over! [/B][/QUOTE]

I can see you're new here, so I'll cut you a break. But you can't just post in RPGs you haven't signed up for. So I'm afraid that post of yours doesn't count. Please, only post in RPGs you're signed up in. If you want to sign up for an RPG, go to the Recruitment SubForum. Also, if you have any Adventure Arena questions, PM me.

[James]

[color=#335062]The Impact continued along the broken, cracked highway. The traffic wasn't very heavy, though the odd hovercar hurtled past every few minutes. Most of the civilians cars that passed appeared to slip around the Impact quickly -- perhaps the people inside were guilty, and felt uncomfortable being so close to a Maverick Hunter vehicle. And certainly, the Impact was hard to miss. Its enormous shape and imposing gun emplacements gave it significant presence. And of course, the Maverick Hunters seal was visible on its outer panels.

The weather outside was getting very warm. The Impact's environment sensors indicated a temperature of over 45 degrees celsius. But the hunters didn't feel a thing, thanks to their climate controlled blood. And thankfully, the interior cabins of the Impact were serene -- clean, cool and quiet. Even when large trade convoys passed by in the next lane, it was difficult to hear their great fusion engines from inside the Impact.

Demos began to relax. He'd been on edge since they'd exited Hunter HQ. He was worried about something going wrong, no doubt. And although they were not in a squad now, and therefore had no designated squad leader, Demos still felt a sense of responsibility. He had been asked by a human commander to have that responsibility and he had taken that seriously, despite the apparent betrayal at the hands of Duke and others. Even Demos, a highly emotional reploid, was still fundamentally a machine. He was highly developed, but like Proteus, he couldn't escape his most basic thoughts and feelings.

The speakers crackled to life once more, a little louder than last time.

[i]"I'm close by! Stop the vehicle so I can get in!"[/i]

The voice was that of Havoc. It sounded like he was running, but Proteus couldn't be sure.

Demos adjusted his headset and spoke into the microphone. "Yeah, sure. We'll stop on the service lane here...if we can fit," he said.

And with that, Demos tilted the Impact's twin flight sticks to the left. The vehicle's massive bulk effortlessly floated across the highway and settled in the service lane. But it continued to hover. Demos wasn't confident enough to disengage the engines.

Proteus and Iota both stood up from their chairs and walked down the Impact's central hallway, toward the rear storage cabin. The rear storage cabin ended at the Impact's rear, where two giant hydraulic doors were positioned. Proteus pressed a red button on the wall nearby and with a loud whirring sound, the entire rear wall opened up.

The highway outside was slightly difficult to see, due to the continual sandy gusts of wind. But it didn't take long for Proteus and Iota to see movement nearby. It definitely looked like a moving figure, but neither could be sure.

"Hm, better be prepared," said Proteus as he briefly glanced in Iota's direction. Iota reached into her holsters and pulled out both guns. She aimed at the open space toward the highway, concentrating intently on the movement ahead.

But sure enough, they had nothing to worry about. A slightly tattered-looking reploid dashed through the dusty gale and clanked his way along the metallic ramp at the rear of the Impact. He paused for a moment and then suddenly fell forward, hitting the ground with a loud "clunk".

"Quick, close the door," said Proteus. Iota nodded and re-holstered her weapons. She ran over to the button and pushed it, causing the doors to fold shut once more.

Proteus knelt down by Havoc's side and held an open palm just over his titanium skin. He ran his palm up and down over Havoc's body, his eyes closed...[/color]

[color=blue]

[b]Vital Signs:[/b] Positive
[b]Heart Rate:[/b] Stable
[b]Outer Structural Damage:[/b] 18.7%

Scanning INN (Inner Neural Network)...

...done. Network stable, but protoneurone levels are dangerously low. Scanning...

...Protoneurone levels at 12%. A 15% protoneurone level is considered unacceptable for combat functions. Please repleneish protoneurone levels at the nearest Maverick Hunter HQ repair station.

[/color]

[color=#335062]Proteus sighed. Iota walked over to him and knelt down beside Havoc.

"Is he alright?"

Proteus nodded slowly. "Yes, he's alive. His body has taken a beating, but it's okay. The main problem is that his protoneurone levels are running low. Perhaps there was a leak at some point, if any parts of his body were punctured by something. I can't see a puncture wound, but I need more time to check him out."

Proteus carefully slid an arm around Havoc and lifted him to his feet. Iota walked around to his other side and held him up.

"What are his protoneurone levels?" she asked.

"They're at 12%. Critically low. It means that his brain is unable to communicate effectively with his synthetic muscles. His blood also seems to be slightly contaminated with iron. We'll have to remove it, cleanse it, and then reinsert it. It shouldn't be a big job though," said Proteus.

Iota and Proteus carefully walked Havoc down the hallway and into a small white room near the command center. The room was filled with various medical tools, though none were suitable for human beings. They were all reploid-based tools. An odd robot sat in the corner of the room. It looked somewhat like the robots that are used to build cars, but smaller. It consisted of a single arm with several pincers on the end, of various sizes. Some were tiny and delicate; they were used for keyhole surgery. And others were larger, used for titanium cutting operations and neural network restoration.

Proteus took Havoc in both arms and lay him on the surgical table in the center of the room. As soon as he did so, the medic robot's plasma screen blinked to life, as a small face appeared on it.

"Hello," it said in a monotone mechanical voice.

"Hello," replied Proteus.

"Do you require my assistance?" asked the medic.

Proteus nodded. "Yes, I need to replace this model's protoneurone liquid," he said.

The medic approached the surgical table. It was suspended from the ceiling by several cords, which were also used to position it in precise locations around the room. The ceiling itself contained a very tight metallic grid, which allowed the medic to position itself in any location and at any elevation. This was particularly useful for delicate reploid surgery.

The medic robot's rear plate opened up and another three hydraulic arms with various sized pincers emerged. They curled around over the robot's body and began running their way along Havoc's titanium skin. At several points, they paused and began to glow. They then emitted tiny bolts of plasma energy directly into the skin, which was used to receive more detailed technical analysis of the subject.

"You will be okay to do this on your own?" asked Proteus.

The face on the plasma screen smiled. "Yes, these operations are all part of my function. But I do request that you check on my progress every fifteen minutes, to ensure that the procedure is being performed to your specifications," said the medic.

Proteus smiled and exited the room. He re-entered the command center, where Iota and Demos were running their fingers over various plasma touch screens, as the Impact began to navigate its way toward Xen.

"How close are we?" asked Proteus, as he sat down.

"Pretty close," replied Demos," only another half hour before we exit the highway and reach the city limits."

Demos continued to focus his attention on the screen in front. "How's Havoc?" he asked in quieter tone.

"Havoc is okay. The medic is performing some work on him now; just replenishing his protoneurone and repairing structural damage. He'll be up and around by the time we reach Xen," said Proteus confidently.

Demos felt reassured. "Oh...that's good news," he said.[/color]

[Chaos]

[size=1][i][center]Darkness. Swirling images shadowed by black. Memories. Thoughts. Dreams. Nightmares.[/center]

'At first glance, it would appear that the robot in a tube filled with liquid hydrogen was in need of repair. But honestly, it was just being started. The basic frame was disfigured and contorted. Bare circuits were visible. The eyes closed, arms hanging by a few wires, legs held down by chains, head tilted back.

The original [b]project : Chaos[/b].

While he was not fully able to understand it, the unfinished Chaos absorbed everything around him. Low-pitched voices, muttering about plans. Something about winter. Darkness everywhere. Destruction. All feeding into Havoc's subconcious. Images of death, explosions, bodies. All flooding into his brain. A series of nothing but a hellish world.

Influence.

Chaos, or rather, Havoc could remember being taken from the tank, layed on a table near his cold prison. Seeing bright, powerful lights. They blinded him for a good few minutes. Living and hearing in complete darkness, then shot into the light. Pain in every way. Cold, dark pain. The pain that makes you want to crawl into a ball and wait to die.

But the pain receeded.

And he was able to open his eyes.

Chaos had looked up, artificial tears blurring his already-distorted eyesight. An older man, around his early sixties/late fifties. His gray hair framed face smiled down, a kind, gentle grin. A look of adoration.

Then another face slid into view. Directions were impossible to guess. Everything was spinning. But this new face seemed to stick out. In a world of haze, this item stook out. It was sharp, clear, precise. Everything else moved away and then closer, a sense of vertigo, but not this. It was a solid face, one not showing any emotion. Except for the eyes. The eyes, light blue, made Chaos warm with a feeling like no other.

Then, it all went black.

Minutes, hours, weeks, months.

Years.

They all flashed by.

Modifications. Corrections. Improvements. Testing. Expanding. Compacting. Fixing. Judging. Repairing. Finding. Containing. Sealing.

A repetitive cycle of trail and error followed existance. Only the final moments were clear, rememberable.

Sealed in a capsule, smoking engines below it billowing exaust into the lab. Levia had welded the cover top, and disabled the reploid's weapons.

"Father...I don't understand."

"The world has gone to Hell, Chaos. The surviving enemies of our state are going to do something. They know where we are."

"Can we not fight them?"

"Not now. Later, when you have developed, you and your brother will finish this vendetta."

"But...where is he?"

"I sent him out to scout. I didn't want him here for this."

A plasma gun, similar to that of a buster, was on Levia's hand.

"Father... You cannot stay here! Quick, let me out! I can help!"

"It's too late, Chaos. There is a timelock on the capsule. If you are not awakened within fifty years, only your brother knows how to set you free."

Levia had pressed his face closer to the glass panel on the cover.

"Remember. 'Code: HAV-992'. Remember it well. It will save you."

"But I--"

Crashing. Slicing. Mechanical arms tore from the wall, sparks showering the walls and floors. Above, the quarz lights in the deep underground lab exploded from the power surging. Most of the power was lost, only backup remained. The electric wires sparked now, the only sources of light. Red and yellow flashed by, a green hue trailing behind.

"Live long, and fight well, my son. Look after your brother."

Launch had been commenced. The capsule began to quake and quiver.

"Father! No! Let me out! I can help! FAAAATHHHHERRR!"

The red figure turned back to Levia, who had drawn his plasma cannon. A single marking was seen, 'W'. Levia turned slowly, a tear forming in his left eye. He raised his cannon, and shrill laughter from the attacker rang, even over the rocket's roar.

Blackness. Chaos shutdown as the capsule was put into the air.'

-- -- -- -- --

Havoc sat up, grunting, artificial sweat pouring from his brow. His wide eyes shot around, head snapping left to right. Upon the slow realization of his whereabouts, he calmed. Proteus was next to him, saying something. But everything was airy. Vision was blurred, hearing was muffled, and his sudden alertness suddenly put him in a weary and disattatched feeling.

He swayed to the side, eyes fluttering. Proteus screamed something, and Iota was almost instantly there. Flashes of light seemed to come from every direction, but it was really just Havoc's eyes readjusting to the protoneurone. But as far as he knew, his life was flashing before his eyes.

The surge of vital fluids sent a message to his cybernetic brain, saying something was wrong. Images warped to mind, his pupils shrinking to dots. Life memories. Meeting Flash, Warlock, the whole Elite Sqaudron. Iota. Bass. Seeing his brother, Demos, for the first time in a century. Hunter HQ. Duke. Signas. Sigma.

And Andrew Levia.

Blinking once more, Havoc's senses returned. Upon this, he realized where he was. Proteus was holding him up, Iota talking loudly. All of them were in the Impact. Demos was in the Impact. Not in the lab. Not with the red fiend. Alive. Not dead.

Full memories flared in his mind. Demos', mostly. Surviving the Cataclysm. Not trusting the Maverick Hunters. Escaping an attack by a Maverick, saved by the Hunters. Enlisting in the Hunter Ranks. Meeting Flash and Warlock. Making it to the Elite Squadron. Finding Havoc. The airstri--[/i]

[b]Iota:[/b] "--..voc! Listen to me! Your body is just getting used to the rush of protoneurone! Focus! Come on, stay with us!"

[i]Havoc nodded, finding his voice void of all movements. He reached up with his left hand, rubbing his head. Standing on his own now, he tried to remember the events that lead him to the Impact. Explosions. Darkness. The satalite. Running. Running. The blistering heat and blinding sand. Iota, Proteus. Someone screaming something.

Then more darkness.

Havoc shuddered violently. He never wanted to see nighttime, darkness, or anything again. His life was filled with death and memories of hatred and pain and suffering.

He swore it off. Nothing would stop him from fulfilling his father's last wish.[/i]

[b]Havoc:[/b] "[i]..Red fiend...[/i]"

[b]Proteus:[/b] "What was that, Havoc?"

[i]Havoc looked up at Proteus, as if he had never heard his voice once in these past few years. His look softened to one of a blank stare of calm serenity.[/i]

[b]Havoc:[/b] "Wha..."

[i]Havoc cleared his throat, still finding it hard to talk.[/i]

[b]Havoc:[/b] "What'ssss...haappened...to-o-o. Huuunterr HQ?"

[b]Proteus:[/b] "A lot. You had best sit down for this."

[i]Havoc walked into the cabin of the Impact, sitting in the communications seat. He blankly stared at the controls, before pivoting in his chair to face Proteus.[/i]

[b]Proteus:[/b] "Well. For one... Ah, well. Let's start at the beginning. The airstrike..."[/size]

[James]

[color=#335062]The journey toward Xen was relatively uneventful, at least compared to the experiences of recent days. Proteus made every effort to explain the situation to Havoc as best he could. But it wasn't easy; Proteus himself found it difficult to interpret recent events, as so much of it made no sense to him. But nonetheless, Havoc listened intently to his words while Iota and Demos continued to focus on piloting the enormous vehicle through busy desert roads.

The Impact had now entered the outskirts of Xen, a city of damned souls, as some had called it. Sure, it was polluted and overcrowded, but the hunters were somewhat relieved to be here as opposed to Novus Concordia. For each of them, Xen represented something different. But fundamentally, it was a new experience - wholly different from the regemented lives that they were all so used to at Hunter HQ. Still, it wasn't an [i]entirely[/i] relieving experience. Each of the reploids had a sense that something wasn't right in this place. It wasn't necessarily the crime, or the fact that both humans and reploids were sometimes seen settling their disputes with violence on the streets. It was something else.

Demos interrupted the silence inside the Impact's cabin. "Hey guys, we're nearly at Warlock's garage. It's only about a block away," he said.

But as the Impact ambled its way through the winding streets -- and was Warlock's home came into view -- no activity could be seen. The garage door was open, and Warlock's hovercar was visible inside.

Proteus stood behind Demos. "Let's just park this thing on the street. It's too big for the garage. Nobody can steal it, thanks to the retina locks," he said.

Demos nodded and steered the massive vehicle into a nearby sidelane. The vehicle's engines were humming a little more quietly now and they slowly reduced their chatter as the Impact settled itself down on the road's surface. The heavy rear hatch opened slowly and the four hunters exited, each holding a couple of loads of firearms. They crossed the street and Proteus knocked on Warlock's front door. As he did so, the door swung open slightly. Proteus briefly looked back at his comrades, who all looked a little confused.

"I wonder where he is," mumbled Proteus quietly.

He pushed the door open and walked inside, followed by the others. Various vehicle parts were sitting up against the walls, some of them looked as though they were in the middle of being cleaned. And, further down the hall, Proteus could see various firearms, which Warlock appeared to be restoring himself.

Iota lay her firearms down on the floor. "Well, wherever he is, I'm sure he'll return soon," she said. The others nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, we better get this stuff put away somewhere," said Demos. "We'll talk to him about it when he gets back."

The hunters picked up their firearms once more and wandered upstairs, where they organized their cache in a spare room.

Proteus sat down next to Havoc, who was resting on a spare mattress.

"Feeling alright?" he asked.

Havoc groaned a little and turned his head to look at Proteus. "Yeah...I guess you could say that," he replied groggily. Proteus smiled.

"I'm glad. You know, your brother cares about you..."

At first, there was no reply. And then, Havoc nodded slowly. "Yeah..." he muttered.

Proteus was about to continue the discussion, when Iota suddenly burst into the room. Havoc sat up almost instantly and Proteus jumped to his feet. "Ugh! Don't do that!" cried Proteus. "It's not like this is a nice neighbourhood; we never know [i]who[/i] is hanging around!"

"I'm sorry," breathed Iota, "but we have a situation."

"What situation?" queried Havoc, as he rose to his feet carefully.

"I'm receiving a strange energy signature," Iota began," and...it's not machine, nor human."

"Then what is it?" said Proteus, with a tone of urgency in his voice.

"Cyborg," replied Iota.

[b]"&$#@!"[/b] cried Demos from somewhere downstairs. "Something is coming! Arm yourselves!"

"Quick!" said Proteus, "let's get up on the roof for a better view!"

Iota nodded and followed Proteus out the door and up onto the roof, via a nearby fire exit. Proteus stood on the roof's edge and squinted slightly. The lenses in his eyes rotated backwards, and were replaced with a second set, which were slightly larger. Telescopic lenses. Proteus squinted once more and zoomed his viewpoint forward by several hundred fold. And there it was, a large figure, dashing through the crowded streets by foot, knocking people over as it went.

"Can you see what it is?" asked Iota.

Proteus zoomed further and concentrated. "Oh! Yes..." he stuttered.

"Well? What is it?!" cried Iota.

Proteus zoomed out and turned to face her. "It's Massacre. He must have followed us. I don't know how we can have [i]any[/i] chance of beating him!"

"I'll tell Demos!" cried Iota, as she began pushed past the door and leapt down the stairs.

Proteus swallowed hard. He remembered their last encounter with Massacre all too well. Was Massacre here for him? To bring him back to Red Alert 05? Or worse...to kill him?[/color]

[Chaos]

[size=1][i]Demos stepped forward out of the garage's side door, helmet removed. His wild, untamed, nearly black hair was spiked back as his hand ran through it swiftly. His dark-lemon eyes shimmered as sweat began to pop up on his forehead. He fumbled with the buckle of one of the duffle bags that was still outside, cursing gently to himself as he finally just ripped the strap in two. Various firearms proceeded to fall out.

But what he went for was the ball-bearing grenades. He belted two against his waist with a small leather strip, which also held two spare beam sabres and a large hand cannon that launched plasma grenades.

Demos slid the bag inside the garage and closed the door, but set his large Antipersonnel gun near the door, with a full ammo belt, ten millimeter bullets, cocked and locked.

He breathed heavily, as his dark gray armor rose and fell with each breath. Such mechanics were not required, but it gave Reploids a more human look. Everyone knew they didn't have real blood or skin, nor did they need to breathe or that such, but having something so much more power and is so much more resistant to natural things look, talk, and act like you is more of a reassurance.

In the far distance, bodies were shoved away or trampled. Massacre was a huge blotch of darkness stomping over toys, so it seemed. He would arrive in a minute or two at the rate he was going.

Shouting from above, footsteps. Two of the three pairs of pounding feet were normal, two steps at the time, at a regular pace. Then the other was more distinct. One normal stride and then the next coming short. It was Havoc. He was still a little below maximum efficiency. Terrific.

Time slowly etched a painting of dread. The clouds up above, growing darker each minute, slit the throat of the heat and light as they passed overhead. A thunderstorm in the desert. And titanium alloy and steel creatures in the street about to fight. How lovely.

The street seemed to loosen up, traffic diverting away, pedestrians veering down side roads and alleys. They saw four Hunters standing and a large figure steamrollering his way in that direction. Even Mavericks and insane killers have common sense.

After what seemed to be a year in the hot yet clouded-over road, Massacre finally came within hearing range. Demos, now stern-faced and steel-eyed, began to charge his buster. Massacre made no move to slow himself. Proteus armed his own cannon and Iota unholstered her revolvers. Havoc stood back, with an array of weapons within an arm's reach.

When Massacre reached the other end of the block, his pace died swiftly. He now walked at a relaxed pace, his face a pure block of smug, sadistic, pleasure. His fists were tightened into hunks of sheer strength, and his body was fully healed since the last battle.

He stalked closer and closer, until he was within five meters. When he spoke, his harsh voice carried a tone of pure arrogance. He glanced quickly around at the Hunters, chuckling.[/i]

[b]Massacre:[/b] "Well, isn't this little team just so rich? Two Hunters, a female with projectile weapons, and a damaged trash can. Now [i]how[/i] can I [i]ever[/i] manage to junk all of you?"

[b]Demos:[/b] "Quiet, cyborg. Your sarcasm is not needed. You WILL regret coming here."

[b]Massacre:[/b] "We shall see, you loudmouthed fool. But where is my friend? The small one?"

[b]Proteus:[/b] "Warlock is currently up on the roof, putting a bead on the back of your skull and about to end this without you seeing it."

[i]Massacre half-glanced over his shoulder, to scan the roof of the apartments on the other side of the street. Nothing. He swore mentally, and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Demos move with lightning-fast moves and liquid grace. He heard the small bang from the expulsion of the large plasma round.

The massive cyborg dodged left, not even bothering to look. A shame, really. For the blast was larger than he thought. It grazed his right side, and exploded on contact. It was a large fireball that sent the buildings to quake and the windows to rattle. Massacre was sent back several feet, but the brunt of the attack was off-center.

The flash of light died away, and the smoke billowed as charred tar filled the air with it's bad stench.

And through the smoke, Massacre stormed. Right into Demos, headfirst. Forehead to forehead, the Hunter rocketed on his back on the road as the cyborg turned his attention to Proteus.

Proteus dodged backwards, firing rapidly with his buster, making minute scratches and charred divots in his steely flesh, as the beast of a creature swung madly in an attempt to get a good lick in.

Eventually, Proteus jumped back into a derelict car, and it slowed him for a half of a second, but that was all Massacre needed. As the Hunter sidestepped a left jab, Massacre upper-cutted with his swift right fist, and connected to Proteus' jaw, sending the Reploid flying a good ten feet upwards and back. He landed with a groan on the cement sidewalk, instinctively rolling to the right, even though Massacre turned his attention to Iota, who unloaded round after round at the Cyborg, who was weaving in and out.

One shot found it's mark in Massacre's left knee, and he stumbled face first, just three feet from Iota. Demos and Proteus circled in, busters leveled, trained in Massacre. It was now that the rain started. It was a quiet rain, just the sound of the drops hitting each other and solid surfaces. Thunder occasionally sounded high above in the clouds.

The sudden humidity of having the scorching ground's temperature plummet made the area very muggy, but the Reploids did not waver. Massacre was on his hands and knees, laughing as he started to stand again. His laughter wavered as Demos and Proteus fired a few more times, pushing him down back into the mud. But he still laughed.[/i]

[b]Massacre:[/b] "You just don't get it, do you?"

[i]More laughter, even as Demos drew one of the generic beam sabres, holding it above Massacre, ready to strike.[/i]

[b]Massacre:[/b] "This is so much bigger than you can care to understand."

[i]Lightning struck nearby, blinding those that had eyes unshielded. Demos was the first to get put on the ground. Massacre had jumped straight up, using only his arms to push him at least eight feet into the air, and axe-handled the Hunter right on the forehead, and then crumpled to the ground moaning.

Then Proteus got backhanded right in the square of his jaw. He flew, literally, to the side, into the dash of the derelict car with a loud crunch. Then Iota, trying to squeeze a round into Massacre's face, but got kicked soundly in the chest, and sent into the roll-down garage door, denting the aluminum panel deeply.

Massacre roared in laughter, shouting quickly how they were such fools.

[b]Ding, kl-kl-klick.[/b]

Massacre's laughter stopped, and his eyes shifted to the side, as Havoc smiled lightly, his arm out as if he had just thrown something but didn't bring his arm back down.

Massacre glanced down.

And there, right at his feet, was an object the size of a softball. It had a translucent outer coat, some metal mixed with plastic, and inside were steel ball-bearings, and a small charge with a slight gear turning counterclockwise.[/i]

[b]Massacre:[/b] "Cra--"

[i]Time crawled as Massacre slightly bent down, trying to gain extra strength for his jump, when the explosion occurred. The boom was deafening at such close range, but what was the real problem was the countless spheres of metal that bit deep into Massacre's lower torso, and then into his upper.

The force sent the cyborg up in the air, and into the middle of the street. When he landed, water around him jumped from the potholes nearby, and splashed slightly.

Thunder cracked, and the team arose, battered, but each arming him or herself as Massacre, leaking oil from one of his tube-veins, and loosing coolant through his lower stomach, turned over on his stomach and coughed. Despite having steel rammed into his body, however, he seemed barely scathed compared to the Elite Squad.[/i]

[b]Demos:[/b] "C'mon, Massacre. Get up. I have a present for you."

[i]Massacre staggered up, drunkenly swaying towards Demos. The Hunter raised his right arm, buster formed, and aimed dead-on for where he guessed the cyborg's power core to be.

It was then that Massacre dashed forward with one, strong stride, sending water off his body like a dog shaking with all it's might.

A single punch, right in the middle of the Hunter's chest, and the gem embedded in his armor spiderwebbed, but did not crack. For what seemed to be a few seconds, Demos floated back, the force of the blow not yet taking hold.

But sure enough, the Elite member flew, nay, hurled backwards, like some sort of dumb missile. Right into the garage's door. No. [b]Through[/b] the garage door.

Another loud crash sounded as he landed against the back wall and into Warlock's workbench.

Lightning crashed, and Massacre's insane grin flashed in the flare of light. The others took a few steps back, but readied themselves. Havoc took out the DX-Sabre, and activated the sabre, the blue beam springing to life, and spewing off excess energy which snapped and crackled in the cool air.

Here's to round two.[/i]

-- -- -- --
James and/or Warlock, leave Demos out of the next battle scene. I have plans for him, but it requires him where he is now.[/size]

[Warlock]

After a momentary pause that seemed to last months, the pitter-patter of rain and constant rumblings of the sky were broken as Havoc leaped forward, sabre back and ready to strike. Seeing their companion do this, Proteus and Iota immediately opened fire with their respective weapons to box Massacre in. The massive cyborg, screwing up his face in annoyance, jumped forward to meet Havoc in mid-air.

Both having to stop discharging their weapons in fear of hitting Havoc, Iota and Proteus were only able to watch as the two passed each other, the reploid twisting in the air to avoid a collision with his cyborg opponent, and consequently avoiding the large cybernetic leg manoeuvred to hit him square in the chest.

With their ally now out of the line of fire, the two conscious bystanders took quick aim with their weapons. All it took was a split second more for a quick and relatively light barrage of plasma to pepper along Massacre?s torso.

The only thing was, both Iota and Proteus were yet to fire their weapons.

Massacre paused in confusion, having noticed that the projectiles had come from nowhere near any of the Elite Squad members.

In truth, they had come from Warlock as he stood on the roof of the apartments across the street, just where the cyborg had thought he might?ve been earlier.

As lightning crackled behind him, truly revealing his weathered body, the former Elite Squad Commander grinned.

-----------------------------------------------------

He had been watched the confrontation for the past minute, particularly intrigued by the trouble his ?friends? were having with the cyborg. He himself had bested Massacre, if only barely, without any help - yet here the others were, unable to defeat the gigantic opponent.

Though thinking back, that had been the old him who had found a match in Massacre; things had now changed considerably.

Wincing more in delight then anything else, he saw Demos go through the garage door, making a mental note to make him pay for the destruction his body caused later on. And, shaking his head and make ?tching? noises, Warlock wiped some water off his visor, before raising his buster and taking careful aim. He?d have to time this, to ensure he hit in the most dramatic way.

And, as Iota and Proteus raised their weapons, Warlock immediately discharged the cannon, spewing out several quick, mostly harmless blobs of plasma. They warped endlessly as they flew through the rain, before impacting along Massacre?s side.

The reactions of those below were as he had expected - a moment of confusion, before they turned to him. The sound from behind him also confirmed that they had looked just as lightning struck, making his entrance just that bit more dramatic.

And grinning, the Maverick Warlock leaped off the side of the roof.

-----------------------------------------------------

Hitting the ground solidly, Warlock instantly got off his knees, and not wanting to waste a second, charged Massacre. His buster melted back to a hand, and one bright flash later, two small sword hilts were gripped firmly in his hands. It took only a moment for them both to switch on in a brilliant display of red, the two slightly smaller then normal energy blades pulsating wildly, and evaporating every single drop of water that touched their surfaces.

Massacre, spotting Warlock, took on a look of pure delight, and ignoring the others, sprinted forward to meet the Ex-Hunter, oil and coolant still leaking from his body as he thundered through quickly growing puddles.

At the last second, both leapt into the air. But unlike the previous display of Havoc and Massacre, things turned out quite differently. Wielding his blades like a true experienced professional, Warlock spun them as he brought his feet up, causing him to hit the cyborg feet first, and then bounce back off the monstrosity. Massacre, still moving forward, and unable to hit the lithe Warlock, continued to fly forward, quickly overtaking Warlock as he began to descend under the reploid. The ex-Hunter, however, who had used the foot-push to get higher in the air, was able to come down from above, right blade first, impaling the controlled energy into his opponent?s left shoulder.

Grunting, Massacre reached for the reploid, but Warlock merely shut off the particular blade, allowing him to continue to fly forward, past the fist the cyborg brought up, to land neatly on the ground.

Warlock yawned as he turned to look over at his opponent. ?You know, I thought I killed you,? he sighed, before smiling in delight. ?Not to worry. At least this time I?ll have the pleasure of smashing your head in for a second time.?

Massacre, a bit too furious for words, merely growled and charged at Warlock again. When the cyborg struck, the creation of Dr. Light was ready for it.

[James]

[color=#707875]Proteus and Iota watched as Massacre charged at Warlock fiercly. Warlock was now standing in front of the garage door, which featured a hole in its center, with the metallic edges peeled inward as a result.

Warlock stood there, gripping his blades tightly, waiting for his enemy.

Massacre, for his part, was visibly damaged. His shoulder was crackling with short bursts of electricity, as several thick cords had been reptured and were sparking upon impact with the water. Despite the fact that coolant fluid was splashing across his feet as he walked, he did not seem to notice. Steam continued to rise from the exhaust vents on his back and his eyes were as cold as ever.

Suddenly, Massacre jumped. Despite his obvious size and weight, he moved with remarkable fluidity. He swiped at Warlock with one thick arm. Warlock leapt sideways and avoided contact, but Massacre's other arm then lashed out violenty from the other side, hitting Warlock in the back as he jumped. A blade dropped from Warlock's hand as he was thrown into a cluster of garbage cans near the sidewalk.

Massacre reared up, preparing to dive at Warlock again. But just as Warlock began to climb out of the garbage, Iota and Proteus were already perched upon Massacre's heavy shoulders. They'd jumped from the roof, in a last-ditch effort to stop the monstrosity.

"Arggh!" roared Massacre, as he clumsily through his large hands around his head, attempting to knock the two reploids off.

The sound of heavy thunder and rain nearly drowned out Proteus' voice, but Iota and Warlock could still hear his words; "Stop him [i]now![/i]"

The three reploids knew that they'd have to work together to bring Massacre down. It was that, or be killed one by one. Even the two newer model reploids couldn't stand up to Massacre; the risk of Warlock being severely injured or killed was only heightened by this fact. But these reploids were not foolish. Massacre's weakness was both in his clumsiness as well as his foolishness. He was a machine that had been designed for power and power alone, while Proteus, Iota and Warlock were intelligent units, capable of working in a team.

Proteus formed his adaptive buster into a long, sharp instrument. As he did this, Iota clamped her feet tightly to Massacre's shoulders and began firing her buster at his head; the barrel was only a couple of dozen centimetres away at the very most. This ensured that Massacre focused most of his energy on Iota -- the frequent blasts of plasma were so close and forceful that they were beginning to sear through the sides of his face, not to mention the fact that he couldn't physically see, as a result of the blinding light.

Proteus took the opportunity to slide down Massacre's back, closer to his energy deck. The energy deck was kept cool by liquid coolant and Proteus could see exactly where the coolant chamber lay; he used his iris scanners to see just under the surface of Massacre's hastily-built steel skin. Within seconds, Proteus' enormous blade had been driven deep into Massacre's back. It had been driven deep enough to pierce through the side of the coolant tank.

Massacre roared again and turned so that his back faced the garage door. He hastily pushed his back up against it, in an attempt to crush Proteus. Proteus could hear the metal door grinding against his own titanium skin, emitting a loud and high-pitched screech.

But he held his blade there. He was right in doing so, too. Proteus only had to wait seconds before Warlock retrieved his lost blade and immediately pushed both deep into Massacre's chest.

Massacre now swung wildly at Warlock, apparently forgetting Proteus and Iota. He still couldn't see, though; he was blinded, he was leaking coolant fluid and his internal generator was heating to dangerous levels, as a result. But Massacre didn't care. He had become overwhelmed and desperate. As he swung at Warlock again, Warlock effortlessly drove his blades right through Massacre's left wrist. Massacre's left hand (and several components from his arm) were torn away and a singed, metallic stump remained.

Proteus peered into his HUD, which lay itself over his open eyes. While his blade was still planted deeply inside Massacre's coolant tank, Proteus diverted 25% of his internal power directly to his limb. A sudden burst of electricity ignited the leftover coolant inside the tank, causing a small-but-forceful explosion on his back. Both Proteus and Iota were thrown forward, knocking over Warlock on their way. The three reploids tumbled backwards into the side of a parked car on the opposite side of the street, heavily denting its doors and smashing its windows in the process.

They looked up at Massacre, who was now stumbling aimlessly forward, clutching his face with his only hand, as flames ran up across his back and shoulders.

"Get under the car!" yelled Warlock. Without question, the other two reploids obeyed. The trio crawled under the car, making sure to move as far away from Massacre as possible. Had they waited any longer, the ear-splitting explosion would have severely damaged them -- if they'd been lucky. Massacre's generator had exploded. The heat, combined with the fire in the coolant tank had been too much. It had overwhelemed and consumed him.

Proteus, Iota and Warlocked crawled out from under what was now little more than rubble.

They looked over the remains of the battle. Several windows had been shattered, two cars were completely burnt out, the door to Warlock's garage -- despite being made of heavy steel -- was peeled open like the skin of an orange and there, in the center of the street, lay Massacre. And ugly site, to be sure, Massacre was laying face-down in a pool of water. His back had been split apart down the center and most of his internal skeletal structure had burst outward, through his skin. Pieces of metal ribcage reached out into the air, like some kind of giant claw. Broken gears, sheets of charred metal and other debris were strewn about the street nearby. Massacre was dead.

The three reploids looked at one another. The battle with Massacre had been a sobering experience. Here they were, standing on the street, in the middle of a thunderstorm. Iota's face was no longer pretty and innocent and porcelain doll-like. Her expression was hardened. Her chin had been charred by extreme heat and strips of thin titanium wafer had been torn away from her neck. She was gripping her weapon so tight that it had literally cracked under the pressure.

Proteus also looked different. Large, deep streaks were present all across his shoulder blades and lower back. His skin had literally been burnt and torn in places. The electronic pulses of blue that typically ran through his hair were no longer present; his hair sat there, completely black and lifeless, framing his serious expression.

And then there was Warlock. His visor was cracked, his trenchcoat torn. His right leg had also been damaged in the battle and the joint on his right knee had been pushed completely out of place. Several wires hung lifelessly from it.

Warlock carefully removed his visor and looked at the others. He managed a soft smile. "Want to come inside?" he asked, gesturing toward the broken garage door.

Proteus returned the smile. "Yes, thank you. We have a lot of things to discuss..."

"...and a lot of plans to prepare," said Iota, as she finished his sentence for him. She didn't smile. She simply began walking toward the garage, making sure to kick Massacre's lifeless body as she passed it.[/color]

[Chaos]

Havoc sat up, groaning loudly, watching the others just walk on past. He leaned to the left, using his arm to raise his body, and brought his legs under his body. He stood slowly, his body weary and his joints straining.

"Gee, thanks for all the help, you guys," he wryly muttered under his breath as he continued to stagger his way to the garage.

By the time he got there, he had caught up to the others as they just stared at Demos. An intense light bore into their eyes, bathing the room in harsh glare from the crystal lodged in his armor. It was prism-like, a radical variety of colors dancing along the walls and benches and tables. There was a wispy whine of a high-powered, incredibly focused power source from his internal system.

Havoc pushed past the others, with their dull eyes and battered bodies barely containing the wonder of the event in front of them, picking up a lead pipe on the ground in the process. He approached his brother quickly, and drew his arm back.

A slight yelp came from Proteus as Havoc swung hard, and the pipe connected solid with Demos' forehead. The luminous crystal died out immedietly, and the leader of the Elite Squad sat up from his slouched position, and grabbed his skull forcefully, his hair messily pinched between the fingers and a slight trickle of blood ran down the side of his nose.

"OW! Havoc, that [b]fucking[/b] hurt, you ass," which, of course, came from Demos in a very loud scream.

Havoc tossed the bent pipe to the side, and held his hand out for his brother. Demos took it, and stood carefully, a wobbeling a little to side to side.

"Shit. What did I miss?" he croaked out, looking at the others with his right hand over the spot where he got clocked.

[center]----------[/center]

Demos sat in the room where Proteus and Havoc were in earlier, on the mattress, going over what he was told of the battle after he got cold-cocked by Massacre. He heard the noise downstairs, the dismantling of the cyborg. Warlock was scraping the body, looking for useful parts, apparently. Much of the commotion was muffled throught he walls, and the conversations were understood as mere blurbs which could be heard over the din and through the sheetrock.

But after a minute or two, Demos focused solely on what Havoc had informed him of of when they found him. It was true, after all. He could obtain the power nessacary for the Titan project. The program that would allow him to willingly manipulate energy signals and projections of that energy to various degrees. Work needed to be done, and done fast.

He glanced at the crystal gem on his helmet's forehead. It shined with an inner glow, a very bright and pale blue. He then lowered his head down at the crystal in his armor. It had slowly reformed the holes in the cracks over the past few hours.

Work needed to be done [i]very[/i] fast.

Footsteps softly clodded up the stairs, and a brief knock later, Proteus opened the door.

"Demos, how are you?" Proteus asked quietly.

"Hah. I've been through more shit than a single cyborg," was the arrogant-toned responce he got.

Proteus just smiled.

"Good to see you're doing just fine. We need you downstairs though. We need to work on our plans," Proteus continued.

"Sure. I'll be down in a minute."

Proteus nodded once, a distracted look in his eyes, and then left. Demos stood up after a few seconds, ran his hand through his hair before leaving the room, walking quietly down the stairs.

[James]

OOC: A slight yelp? Maverick Hunters is a military organization, you know. For shame. ~_^

[color=#707875]Everyone was sitting around the kitchen table. At first, nobody talked. Iota was gazing at the wall, Warlock was repairing the damage to his visor and Demos was mumbling angrily.

Warlock paused and put his broken visor on the table. "Damn visor..." he sighed. He pulled up a chair and sat with the group.

"Well," he began, "I guess I should be totally honest about the missile laun--"

"No," interrupted Proteus. Everybody looked up.

"That isn't important, Warlock. Nobody's here to check up on you or anything like that. We have other reasons for being here," he said.

Warlock raised an eyebrow. "Maverick Hunter HQ isn't interested in monitoring me anymore?"

Proteus shook his head. "They aren't worried about you right now."

"Yeah, those bastards have bigger fish to fry now," grumbled Demos. "I reckon we should just bust in there and take Duke out. It's not like we don't have the support to do it."

Iota looked at Demos. "I don't think we should risk injuring the civilian workers. Who knows what things are like with Duke in control," she said.

Warlock now focused his attention on Iota. "Duke?" he asked. This information had seemingly come from nowhere.

Proteus and Iota both nodded. "Yes, Duke. He is running things now," said Proteus with a look of dismay. "I don't know what happened, or how he came to us. But he's there now. None of the other Hunters are aware of his treachery. Even we don't know what he's planning, but we do know that he can't stay there."

"I see," said Warlock quietly. He stared directly forward at the table as he spoke. "Why are you here?"

Proteus looked at Warlock. Their eyes met and it was as though Proteus' sincerity was tangible.

"We're here for many reasons, Warlock," he began, "we're here because we tried to save our lives...we're here because we need time to formulate a plan...and we're here to sort out the future."

"Any ideas, then?" piped up Havoc, who had been listening to the conversation with great interest.

Proteus shook his head slowly. "I don't know. There's no way we can just return to HQ. We'd be killed on site. I'm surprised that Duke hasn't already sent a squad after us."

"I'd say that Duke doesn't want to risk sending any units to Xen. Anyone recognized as an authority figure from the capital would probably be in great danger in this place," said Warlock. "I'm surprised that you guys found my place without any resistance, especially considering that you arrived in a Hunter vehicle."

Demos grinned. "Hah, you think any criminal would take on a group of Elite Hunters? I don't think so."

"You're probably right," said Warlock calmly. "Of course, it didn't stop Massacre..."

Iota snapped out of her still gaze again. "How can we ever hope to win? We have our own home looking for us...and Red Alert too."

"Red Alert? There's [i]more[/i] I don't know?" queried Warlock.

Proteus nodded. "Yes...Red Alert is a terrorist group, run by Dr. Karman."

Warlock winced as he heard that name. "Oh. Her...she's alive?"

Another solemn nod.

"Incredible. I never trusted her...I hoped she'd be okay though..."

Warlock stopped. Memories of the air strike were coming back and he didn't want to discuss it. It seemed as though everybody else automatically understood.

"Well, the fact is, Karman is trying to discredit the Hunters. She's trying to make them look incompetent," said Proteus.

"And she's doing a damn good job of it," said Demos indignantly.

"Yeah, she is," sighed Iota. "But what can we do?"

Everybody paused a moment longer.

"We take her on at her source," said Warlock slowly. "We take out Karman...and then we deal with Duke."

Proteus, always the voice of reason, couldn't help but interject. "Karman tried to capture me, Warlock. Her facility is enormous...full of drones and Protogen killers. How can we possibly take out that base?"

"Well," began Warlock, "I know a guy near here...he's been supplying me with my own weapons, when I left the HQ. Great guy, too. He's honest; he doesn't deal with the lowlife types around Xen. He used to be a scientist for the Japanese Government, before they came under UN jurisdiction."

"Can he supply us with transports and heavy guns?" asked Proteus.

Warlock nodded and grinned. "Yeah, he's got some awesome stuff back there. Costly, though."

Proteus frowned. "Costly?"

"Yeah, but..." Warlock paused and fingered his glove for a moment, "his daughter was killed in the Nebula Heights explosion. If he knows that Karman was behind that attack, he'll surely give us some freebies."

Proteus stood up. "In that case, I think everyone should get themselves prepared. Let's repair ourselves and put the supplies that we have in the HAPC. Then we'll go and find this scientist and be on our way."[/color]

[Warlock]

[SIZE=1] As the others filed around, Warlock briskly walked over to Proteus, the look on his face that of a man with a plan. ?Oh, and Proteus, I have a favour to ask, if you don?t mind.?

Proteus turned to look at the former Elite, before nodding his head. ?Sure, Warlock. What is it??

Warlock?s gaze flickered to where his damaged visor still lay, before focusing back on Proteus. ?If you have the time, do you think you could compile a detailed map of Karmen?s facility, from your memory of it?? he asked. ?And, if possible, maybe a map of Hunter HQ as well? I remember most of it, but as I?m sure they?ve been extensions and upgrades, I wouldn?t mind having an overall guide. Though with the size of the place, I?m sure just a general idea of the defences, and a map of the critical buildings would suffice. That wouldn?t be too much for you, would it??

Proteus shook his head, his neural net already thinking back to his time at the Red Alert facility. ?No, I should be able to handle it. It?ll take some time though, but I?ll be able to get something made up.?

A brief smile flickered at the edges of Warlock?s lips. ?Thank you. Thank you very much. I might be able to find an enormous use in them.? He turned around to leave, before pausing, and looking back at Proteus. ?When you?re done, whether it be while we're still here or when we?re on the move, deliver them straight to me.?

And with a final nod, Warlock disappeared into a side room.

--------

Locking the door behind him, Warlock gazed around the small room, filled to the brim with shelves and lockers and drawers, themselves laden with junk - some of it useless, and some far from it. Though the amount of light in the room was nonexistent, the reploid?s optics had immediately adjusted, and to him, it looked as if the sun was brightly shining into the room, illuminating every nook and cranny.

As he began to examine the individual pieces of junk, his mind leapt into the past, present and future all at once, and he smiled again. Not the smile he had before, but a considerably more dangerous one. Things were coming together nicely.

He spotted an old medical drone that might have some use, and quickly stepped over to where it rested, picking it up, and disturbing a great deal of dust that had collected recently. However, as he turned around, back towards the door, a wave of emotion swept over him. Unable to help himself, he violently threw the drone into a wall, where it?s weak metal armour crumpled, before the whole thing fell to the ground with a crash.

The skin on his face briefly spasmed, before calm returned to him. He couldn?t explain the sudden act of anger, but he had to exercise greater control on himself - it was too early to reveal himself to the others. He couldn?t wreck such a delicate operation early on.

Quickly making up a story for the crash of the medical drone, Warlock picked up said drone, and made his way back out the door. [/SIZE]

[Flash]

Aquaoppidum
Aeger Vertis
Aurum Litus
---

Day's end loomed ever closer.

As the crimson sun set on the distant horizon, clouds gathered above the windswept desert plains, which encircled the worlds mecca. Novus Concordia. After a moment of brief tranquility, the heavens opened. Heavy rain pelted down on the eastern sectors of the city, including a desolate scrapheap on the outskirts of the Hundred Valley Heavy-Industrial district.

Massive chimney-stacks churned out enormous plumes of black smoke, as the factories below roared with industry. This particular facility was a lower-class smelter-works, reforming all kinds of junk metal into a sort of frankenstien's monster of alloys--Omniemium. Surprisingly, a strong and malleable iron. It was cheap, too, and people bought it--Provided they didn't know what it was. The General Public dislikes building civic hospitals only to discover the materials were originally bomb shells, dumped androids and sewage filters.

Within the assorted trash lay a motionless body, dirtied by the yard and ravaged by a slew of weaponary and barbaric man-handling. His eyes were glazed over, emotionless--Even for a being of artificial life. The forefront of Reploid technology, Reverb, lay still in the Junkyard, ripped apart by the same weapons he had used everyday to surpress the Maverick threat.

A figure wrapped in a black shroud approached the Hunter's powerless body. He struggled to lift the heavy beams of steel and other assorted trash of off Reverb's plasma-riddled frame. He had feared the worst, but nothing prepared him for this. "Reverb...", his voice trailed off into the gale that was sweeping the city.

Reverb's body was severed, his mechanical spinal cord shredded at it's end, a multitude of wires protruding from it like electronic veins. Coolant trickled from his dismembered torso, akimbo limbs hanging by threads of inorganic mesh. "Reverb", the voice started. "...who, who has defiled you so?"

The cloaked man stooped over and lifted Reverb from his filthy grave. Whipping his shroud around with his arm, he wrapped the Reploid's body like a newborn child, protecting him from the battering force of the storm around him. Like a father with his son, the man took Reverb from the Junkyard.

~~~

Duke overlooked the damage caused by the recent attack on MHHQ. Even though the damage was not widespread, in the enclosed area that it had affected, it had been devastating. Plumes of smoke still bellowed from the fires that still raged in the area. On the other side of the base, however, thousands of Green-Hunters lined stood in formation, unloading from hundreds of HAPCs, emblazoned with the same Green Emblem that Duke wore on his waistcoat, unseen, beneath his trenchcoat.

Something, or someone, knocked on the door to Duke's office, disturbing his tranquil observation. Slightly aggravated, he turned and beckoned the door open. In walked Zero, and X at his side. "Commander Duke, Sir," Zero started. A slight grimace spread across Duke's face. The fools still have total faith in me, he thought to himself.
"Ahh, Zero, X. Always good to see my two star Hunters."
"Thank you, Sir." X replied, pleased with himself.
"Commander," Zero began, "Who are these Green Soldiers assembling in the courtyard?"
Duke took a second to think of the most pathetic reason he could, just to see if the Hunters would realise that anything was wrong.
"Why Zero, they're Maverick Hunters from the Central Hunters African Operations System. Surely you've heard of the C.H.A.O.S.?"
Zero nodded slowly. The name didn't ring any bells, but Duke knew alot more than he did, the Red hunter figured. He looked up at one of Duke's various monitors, taking note of the Green Hunters pouring out from the HAPCs.
"Sir, how were they assembled so quickly? And from Africa?"
"Simple, Zero. I had them transported via the South Indian ocean's submarinal reef current. In a H-Class Sub, they were able to make it here in a matter of hours."
"Oh. Of course, Sir."

Duke turned his back to the duo and rolled his eyes. Idiots. There was no-such thing as the Central Hunters African Operation System. That name didn't even make sense, he thought. What's more, the anagram spelled Chaos, certainly not a name a Hunter controlled operation would want as it's staple. On top of all that, the Green Hunters had arrived from the east, in HAPCs. There was no South Indian submarinal reef current. Duke laughed to himself as he picked all the mistakes in the lies he had just laid on Zero and X. Still, the Hunters remained loyal to him and his command. The fools.

"Well, when an attack like this happens, I would suppose that reinforcements have to be dispatched as soon as possible," X stated.
"That's right, X," Duke responded. "Now you two, go and report to..." Duke stopped to think. Who could he lay these idiots off on? It didn't matter. They were too gullible to figure anything out. "Report to the... Head of Medical Ops. Who is that?"
"Doctor Karmen, Sir."
"Yes, that's right. Go and... Check on her casualty reports. Do a body count. Something."
"Yes, Sir," the Hunters replied in unison. Together they turned face and exited Duke's office.

Duke laughed heartily. No-one suspected him of any wrongdoing. Turning his monitors off, he retired to his desk. His superiors would be pleased, for their control of the Maverick Hunters was growing at an alarming rate. Soon, the entire robotic world would tremble at their feet.

[Chaos]

[size=1]Demos snorted quietly, quickly getting up and walking into the garage without waiting for a retort. This was all bullshit, as far as he was concerned. Two terror organizations, one backed wholly by the single greatest military force on the planet, and five Hunters to stop them all.

The supreme evil villain. The weary heroes. The convenient aid. The dramatic setting.

It was the things legends were made of.

And things like this only became legends because people died trying to complete the mission.

[center]--------[/center]

The ammo belt slid into place, the heat guard snapped down. Demos pulled the slide back, the hammer cocked, and the round loaded in the chamber. The M240 Fifth Edition Special Forces Type 'D' antipersonnel machine gun rose swiftly, the butt nestling against Demos' armor, against his shoulder. He was crouched down, hunched over the ammunition bag filled with ten millimeter rounds, and composition-4 blocks.

Footsteps sounded behind him, his eyes darted slightly to the left, but he did not turn around or lower the weapon. A second later, his eyes turned back to the sights, and his eyes focused mechanically, his HUD translucently overlaying his visual perception, and his CPU traced the sight's lineups. They were off after fifty meters, and required adjustments. He set to work, not even bothering to notice whoever it was that obviously wanted a word with him.

Turning the metal bar slightly, to recalibrate the aim, Demos smiled dully, satisfied with the change, and lowered the firearm to the cement floor, and gazed at it.

"They're quite amazing, aren't they?"

The voice was that of Demos.

"Guns, I mean," he said quietly. "Genius in fundamentals, flawed by simple physical restrictions. Machines, built for war. Built for man. To take more lives quicker, quieter, and more accurately. Somewhat like the robot race, right?

The Elite Hunter Squad Commander turned his head around, to see Iota standing, arms crossed, eyes distantly distraught. Her frizzy hair and dirty face reminded Demos nothing of the cool, calm exterior she strongly portrayed earlier. He was instead recalling the fragility of life, and the brutality of death. He could never grant back the life he had taken, nor could any other being known to the world. 'Death is an inevitability and life is sweet. Enjoy the sweetness and accept the undeniable,' that was something someone very important to him once said.

"You gonna be okay?" Demos asked.

"I think so," Iota replied. "I think I'm more burnt out than injured. It was a tough fight; an earned victory."

"I suppose so, but I doubt it will be the last we hear of Red Alert," Demos said with a slanted smile. "But, no worries. From what I've heard, their forces are dimwitted replicas of Proteus, or at least loosely based on him. Or vice versa."

"And what of Duke?" Iota softly asked, looking through the hole in the garage door, at the pattering rain. "Duke is taking control of the most advanced military branch ever. He has become a major player in mere days."

"All the more reason we'll kick his ass," Demos said with a laugh. "We know the format of Headquarters, locations of this and that, and we're the crème de la crème. Elite Squadron Zero. We launch clandestine assaults on entire Maverick bases and blast them off the face of the planet. Duke'll meet his maker, just wait and see."

Iota smiled, Demos' obviously cheerful arrogance a clear sign that things could work out if they were careful. The Elite Hunter Commander stood, turned to Iota, and while opening his mouth to say something, disappeared. His body seemed to liquefy, and shot upwards, through the roof, but did not shatter the ceiling. Pure energy moving at ballistic speed upwards to the clouds above.

[center]--------[/center]

"Demos just disappeared!"

Two heads snapped up and a door swung open widely. Havoc walked up quickly, still carrying a slight limp, and grabbed Iota by the shoulders forcefully.

"What do you mean, 'disappeared'?!" the Hunter shouted.

Iota shook her torso vigorously, forcing Havoc's hands off of her person.

"I mean exactly that! We were talking, he stood up, went to say something, and just warped away."

"Like a teleport?" Proteus chimed in, stepping closer, but not much.

"No, it was like a plasma shot. He distorted in figure, and blasted straight in the air. Through the roof, but not physically."

Warlock slowly stalked forward, muttering slowly;

"Automatic recall. Something only one of three people could do. Used when a creator, or someone with access to the direct energy signal of a robot slash Reploid, either needs or wants an immediate audience with said machine."

"So, what do we do?" Havoc asked, a hint of rage growing in his voice.

"Nothing. There is nothing we can do at this moment about such an act. He will return if he can," said Warlock, shaking his head slowly.

A long silence ensued.[/size]

[James]

OOC: Flash...Dr. Karman no longer works at MHHQ. Remember, she runs a terrorist organization. ~_^

[color=#707875]Proteus stepped out into the sunlight. The rain had ended and all that remained were puddles lining the roadway. Everything looked different now. The vehicle across the road, which had seen the full impact of a powerful explosion only moments earlier, was now almost entirely gone. Scavengers had stolen most of the useable parts; only a few small, charred remains lay in the street. The middle of the road -- where Massacre had lay -- was also completely clear. Various thieves were not doubt all too happy to sell his parts on the black market in the city.

Havoc and Iota were already inside the HAPC, which was sitting just around the corner where it'd been parked. Proteus could hear its plasma engines whirring softly, as it hovered several centimetres above the road. There was no doubt that it was a military vehicle; it had very few windows. It didn't even have a windscreen of any kind. Instead, it had several small portholes running around its edges. They were thick and impenetrable.

The vehicle was navigated via holographic video screens in the cockpit, which relied on sensors stationed all around the hull. It was a marvellous machine and it was certainly capable of protecting them on their journey, however, Proteus knew that they wouldn't be able to leave the mainland with it. Border security, either in Novus Concordia or in Japan, would definitely notice an enormous Maverick Hunter vehicle.

"How's it going?" asked a husky voice from behind Proteus. He turned around and saw Warlock standing there, smiling. He had removed his visor and was gripping it in a gloved hand. Warlock looked calm, as though nothing had happened. Proteus wondered if he was [i]really[/i] calm, or if he was simply trying to make the best of a bad situation.

"All things considered, it's fine," said Proteus, entirely predictably.

Warlock nodded and put his hand on Proteus's shoulder. "You know, I'm glad that you guys are here. Despite all the bad things happening around us, we've come through it."

Proteus smiled slightly. "Yeah, but the hardest part is yet to come," he said softly.

Then he turned around and looked at Warlock's home. It seemed to be more damaged than he'd remembered. Its front walls were blackened and charred, the garage door was still peeled open like a piece of fruit and several windows had been shattered.

"What are you going to do about this damage?" asked Proteus, as a piece of plaster cracked and tumbled down the sloping rooftop, eventually landing at their feet.

"Heh, don't worry about it," Warlock replied, "it won't be too hard to fix. This old girl has seen bigger gunfights before."

The pair turned, to see the HAPC's bulky figure rounding the corner slowly, trundling towards them.

Warlock and Proteus gave the house one final look and stepped into the open hatch on the side of the hull.

[center]|| - - - ||[/center]

A large, translucent map hovered above them. A worn, gloved hand reached across it, pausing now and again.

"So," murmured Havoc, "we have to cross the city and meet this guy in the Underground?"

Warlock nodded vigorously. "Yes. He has a home above ground, but there's no way we could take this thing there without being noticed."

"Where is the other entrance?" asked Iota, leaning forward in her leather chair.

Warlock moved his finger across the map slowly and stopped upon what looked like an enormous drain.

Proteus raised an eyebrow. "The Aquaduct?"

Warlock nodded. "Yeah, you see...his storage rooms are located underground, but we can't go through the regular Underground system. The only way to enter is via the mouth of the Aquaduct."

Havoc ran a hand through his hair. "Do you realize how dangerous that is? The Aquaduct unleashes massive amounts of pressure every time the water runs through it...it services the entire city. We'll be crushed."

Warlock smiled. "Being crushed is the least of our worries. The Aquaduct is the area where a lot of garbage piles up. And because of that, a lot of bandits hang around the area, hoping to scavenge any leftover titanium. They use it for their weapons."

"What are you saying?" asked Iota. "Are you saying that we're going to have to fight our way in there [i]and[/i] overcome the high pressure?"

Warlock nodded again. "Precisely. This thing can go underwater, can't it?"

The reploids glanced at each other, as if they weren't entirely sure about the answer.

"Yes," said Proteus, breaking the silence. "Yes, it can. I'm sure that we've taken this model underwater before. I assume that it can tolerate the pressure too."

"How can it tolerate that kinda water pressure if the hull is damaged from being shot at?" asked Havoc, as he paced back and forth through the cockpit.

Iota rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Is there any way to avoid those scavengers, Warlock?"

Warlock closed the map and sat down. "I'm not sure. The Aquaduct isn't often breached by anyone, because these aren't normal scavengers."

Everybody looked up at Warlock.

"That is," he continued, "they aren't just random thieves. They are actually part of a gang, run by a guy called Prime."

"So now we have to fight our way through a gang?" asked Iota, sounding a little more worried with each question.

"Well, not necessarily," said Warlock slowly, "I mean, we could try and negotiate a deal with Prime..."

Havoc thumped the arms of his chair impatiently. "Negotiate? Screw that. We are [b]Maverick Hunters[/b] damn it! We should just go in there and if we face resistance...we'll deal with it."

Warlock looked at Proteus. "Do we have any weapons left?"

Proteus paused and took a second to scan the HAPC's weapon stocks -- he was able to do it remotely from where he was sitting. "Yes, we do. In fact, the cargo bay is full of them...this HAPC is brand new and we haven't used anything from it so far."

Warlock rubbed his hands together. "There you go, Havoc. It looks like you probably will get things your way afterall."

Havoc grinned and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I will take a closer look to see what we have."

"How do you know Prime?" asked Iota. Warlock hadn't expected that question.

"We've had some run-ins now and then. Prime is kinda at odds with a lot of the other gang leaders in Xen. He controls the Aquaduct...and he's got some nasty Mavericks working for him."

Proteus smiled. "Luckily we're Maverick [b]Hunters[/b] then, eh?"

Warlock rolled his eyes. He was glad that the crew were loosening up; it was something he'd learned to do due to his several years on the run. And he felt glad that his friends were now starting to understand what it was like to live outside the rules and regulations of MHHQ. It was a good feeling.[/color]

[Chaos]

[size=1]The single spotlight burst on with a clunk, the charge of electricity surging to the five hundred watt bulb. It was easily fifty feet high, but with a small opening, focused on the teleport reception pad. Demos' eyes adjusted in mere milliseconds, but even with his sharp eyesight, there was not a single trace of light elsewhere. The Hunter turned in his spot, looking all around him, seeing nothing. Even with thermal and infrared diagnostic scans, nothing was reported as there. It was pitch black, and below zero degrees Celsius. Of course, this presented no problem; Demos' robot body was insulated very well, not to mention that his armor was temperature controlled, not to mention his artificially skin, hair, and muscles.

He rotated around in his spot, until he reached his original position. His face was hardened, a look of poised engagement. His eyes darted left to right, before sweeping back slowly in a looping pattern, top to bottom. The Hunter's right arm slowly drifted back to his D-Sabre, holstered at his hip, while his hand morphed into the Fox-III Plasma Cannon Buster. The moment his hand gripped the handle of his sabre, the world around him changed.

The quarts lights shot on, bringing this unknown location from absolute darkness to the brightest day of summer. The temperature also changed, the heat from the lights so intense that the cavernous area rose ten degrees in under six seconds.

Demos observed his surroundings, now illuminated by a culmination of over two million kilowatts. It was a huge laboratory, suiting various needs, from medical operations to factory production, by the looks of it. In size, it easily matched three or four football fields, as was Demos' guess. He eased up, seeing the white, pristine, spotless lab was completely and utterly deserted.

But then it occurred to him then and there; if that was the case, who recalled him?

He spun quickly, the minute scratch sending his robotic senses into a frenzy. His D-Sabre came slinging out, spewing steel-blue energy in the form of an elongated bar of plasma, excess energy crackling off like small spheres of blue fire that doused themselves out upon leaving the primary energy source. The blade of the beam weapon bent slightly as it was swung forcefully, but barely of notice.

There was a slight sizzle as the beam passed through the wheeled chair's back. The upper back support section tipped backwards and completely disconnected from the rest of the seat and crashed almost silently on the polished tile floor. Demos looked around, eyes searching the area like before. It took a few seconds, but his posture changed from that of an angered crouch to an observant, vigilant lean. He disengaged the D-Sabre, the energy dying out, evaporating from bottom to top.

From behind and above, he heard it. He watched it slide apart, the sheetrock panel, split right down the middle. From inside the roof, a large, bone-white machine gently dropped, a soft hum emitting due to the turning gears and grinding parts. It was as large as a bear, with a tripod lens, much like that of a microscope's, only each barrel was the size of a baseball bat.

It lowered down on two steel bars, both as thick as a tree trunk, to just above a head's height. The whole chassis rotated, to where the barrels pointed a few meters ahead of Demos, and a sharp whirring came from the hulking supercomputer, as the lights dimmed to a pleasant glow.

A red laser beam, as thin as spider webbing, shot out from each of the nozzles, and moved in a traced pattern, at supersonic speeds. They worked together, meeting at common points where detail was required, spacing out the lines between the front and the back, and formed a shape with a phosphorus beam of heat.

Short, thin, drooping shoulders, and with a wrinkled face and wiry hair, the form supported a thick mustache that lined his upper lip, and ran to the sides of his mouth. Beady eyes hovered above a nasty smile that reached ear to ear, and a featureless lab coat covered his body down to his knees, where crimson colored khakis met his penny loafers. His hands were shoved into the coat's pockets, a single name scrolled on the left collar, indistinguishable at first glance and a blurry ID card, all colored in ruby red.

Doctor Albert Wily.

"YOU!" Demos roared, his right fist coming up, his index finger pointed decidedly in Wily's face.

"Yes, me," Wily replied, his own voice, sarcastic and hateful, gravely and filled with resentment. "Or some form of it. Sadly, the tool has used the user."

"What the [i]fuck[/i] are you doing?!"

"Aside from saving your life," Wily mockingly said, eyes closed as he held back the laughter from his own twisted dementia. "just enjoying nothingness and all of existence."

"How can you be alive?!" Demos yelled, his voice growing quite enraged.

"Alive?" Wily's hologram removed his hands from the coat's pocket and raised them to shoulder height, palms open and fingers spread wide. "You call this alive? A downloaded AI representation of my own persona stuck inside a neural net restricted to only this lab and direct contact links?"

A silence followed the immediate eruption, but it did not last long.

"I'm willing to bet that you are curious as to why I tapped your coding and pinpointed location," Wily said, letting his arms slide back into his coat pockets. "Well, there are various reasons as to why, and in order to explain, other questions must be answered first. I shall start off; 'Do you remember your first waking moment?'"

"Yes, I woke up in a tank filled with liquid hydrogen. Father was looking at me through the thick glass," Demos responded slowly, and after much thought.

"Hmm, as I expected, especially with a double encrypted firewall," Wily said in a tone that reeked of arrogance. "But the truth is, your first waking moment was Bass hauling you off of a semi, inside a containment capsule, somewhere in Northern Russia. You have seen it, yes? In your dreams?"

"...Yes."

"And I shall assume you thought it was just a fabricated image set resulted in a mixture of computer intelligence and free will AI?" Wily blandly asked.

"Something like that."

"A trademark design of Bass, I might add, a quite ingenious one at that. It is a programmer secret, an executable that emerges during shutdown, and plays back recorded events in the form of a dream," Wily continued to boast, "and is a way to bypass the firewall, allowing you to gain access to information someone might have tried to keep from your conscious."

"Why do I have it, then?" Demos queried, his rage subsiding, if only temporarily. "I was designed after Bass, not cloned from him."

"Hah hah hah. There is so much you do not know, my poor, dull friend," Wily barked out harshly. "But the simple, honest answer to that comment is rather simple; horse shit."

"What the Hell are you talking about, you insane bastard?!" Demos, again, yelled, his emotions taking flight once more.

"Well, to put it in a lame tongue, you are my son, as is Levia."[/size]

[James]

[color=#707875]The roads surrounding Xen were quiet. A calm breeze scattered sand over the dark concrete as the HAPC drifted along, almost without sound.

The sun was now beginning to set. The Elite Hunters hadn't noticed many vehicles moving along the X-1 roadway, which led to the Aquaduct District. The Aquaduct District was somewhat seperate from Xen. It had originally been built several hundred years earlier and was designed to service remote farming communities with water. But as Xen had grown into a city of its own, the Aquaduct had become the only source of water for the barren metropolis. If Prime controlled the Aquaduct, he also indirectly controlled Xen itself. Or at least, he held a very strong card in his deck, when it came to bargaining with regional warlords. Even those guilty of crimes need drinking water.

Proteus was sitting in a form-fitting leather chair, which itself sat on the eastern side of the command center. He was responsible for the HAPC's weapons systems, but given the lack of activity around them, he decided to take a break.

"Taking a break?" murmured Havoc, as he focused on the wrap-around holographic display in front of him.

"Yeah, I need a little time to think, before we go into battle," said Proteus softly.

Havoc simply nodded in acknowledgement.

Proteus walked down the HAPC's hallway. The hall was lined with doors, which connected to all sorts of rooms. One room was an "Emergency Bunker", which could be used if the HAPC were under such extreme attack that it would be at risk of being completely destroyed. The Bunker was an extremely heavy part of the vehicle and was lined with thick titanium coating. In essence, it was an escape hatch of sorts.

Beyond that were two weapons storage centers, a medical facility, a small research room and a communications center. It was an impressive machine and Proteus could not help but marvel at it as he passed each door.

Finally, Proteus reached the rear-most cargo hold. It was the place at the back of the vehicle where Havoc had been picked up. The rear doors on the HAPC opened horizontally, rather than vertically. That is, the rear was divided into a lower and upper door. The lower door was capable of folding downward to create a landing platform (or a ramp, should any smaller APC units be loaded on board). The upper door was capable of lifting up and completely retracting into the ceiling.

Proteus noticed that the upper door was missing. He could see the road beyond and the orange-pink sky above. Iota was standing there, her hands touching the metal lining on the lower door's lip. Proteus stood next to her and looked out across the landscape. They could see Xen in the distance. At this time of day, its lights had begun to glow and somehow, it looked far more peaceful and beautiful than it had as they'd entered. Even the slums were filled with harsh neon lighting. Blue, pink, green. Xen had come alive. The two reploids could also see hundreds of private transports moving to and from the city, via its various connected highways and skyramps. Proteus thought that it resembled a big coloured mass, perhaps a heart, pumping commercial lifeblood throughout the continent. Despite the violence apparent in the city, Proteus couldn't help but admire Xen's freedom.

Iota turned to Proteus. At first he was taken aback; it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. Her face was no longer determined or hardened and her hair was no longer tied up, it flowed gently in the air and framed her face softly. Her eyes were large and clear...they were like two pools of deep blue water. Had it not been for Iota's combat suit, Proteus could have sworn that he was staring into the eyes of a human female.

"I should apologize," said Iota quietly.

Proteus frowned a little. "Why?"

Iota turned away from Proteus and looked out over the barren highway again. "i've been pretty distant lately. I've been questioning things, I guess. And I know that's not the right thing to do at a time like this."

"What have you been questioning?" asked Proteus.

"Whether I belong in Maverick Hunters or not," said Iota calmly. "I'm a Maverick Hunter, I know. I was designed for that. But more and more, I wonder if we are just some kind of tool that humans are using to fight one another."

"Sometimes I feel that way," said Proteus, "but then I realize that despite the corruption and the anger...we were created to do good things. It's understandable that people don't trust the Hunters now. But they are forgetting about the wars that we fought to protect them from tyranny. Novus Concordia is only free because of us."

Iota nodded. "I know. Everything you say makes sense...it's all logical. I know." She brushed a lock of hair away from her face as she continued. "But I can't help feeling that maybe our situation is untennable. Maybe we should just leave this place and start our own lives somehwere else."

Proteus nodded slowly. "Maybe. But if I left the continent now, I would feel guilty for the rest of my life. I remember hearing the screaming and desperation on that night in the HQ, when we were attacked. Those scientists and their families didn't deserve that. They were only trying to make the world a better place."

"The world is unfair," sighed Iota.

"That's true," said Proteus, "but we're still here. And those scientists who lost their children, or their husbands or wives...they still keep doing their job. They will never stop trying to make things better. It's one thing I admire about humans; even if their resistance and their will to fight is sometimes illogical...they still do it. By running on sheer emotion, they can overcome what seem like impossible odds."

Iota looked up at Proteus once more. "So you think we should ignore our logic?"

Proteus shook his head and smiled. "No. But we shouldn't feel bad about dreaming of a better world, even if it seems like we can never achieve it. If all reploids could dream...I think we would be unstoppable."

A vague smile appeared on Iota's face. "You always know what to say," she murmured softly. "I should go back into the command center. We only have a couple of hours before we reach the Aquaduct."

Proteus bowed his head slightly, as Iota walked away. He stepped back from the lower door, as the upper door folded shut. He still had to prepare the firearms. He knew that it wouldn't be pretty once they reached the Aquaduct...and he didn't want to lose any more comrades.[/color]

[Chaos]

[size=1]For an entire minute, stunned silence was the only response Demos could offer. It was something he had suspected at one point in his life, but never fully entertained as a possibility, to say nothing of being the reality. Thoughts passed through his mind like a freight train, one barreling down the other until the animated human within him kick started a denial process, one of the more common traits that limit sentience.

"Bullshit. I have to call bullshit on you there, old man. My father might have been in league with you for some time, but he was not your side product. No, I have his life and times stored in my memory banks, all of it in chronological order and with substantial side affects that carried through to the outside world!" Demos concluded his rebuttal with a balled fist held to chest level and directed at Wily.

The hologram smirked, and silently walked through a work desk to it's left and began lifelessly circling the Elite Squadron's commander.

"If I can simulate human sentience, what makes you think I can't forge memories?"

The snide, prideful tone echoed through a speaker on the projector device and left the room cold in the wake of the logical truth it illuminated. Seeing Demos falter under his own doubt and no doubt raking through his CPU for solid evidence, Wily continued his gloat.

"The answer to my problems with Megaman became clear when Bass rebelled and put a stop to King, my latest attempt in domination. It was something Protoman had revealed to Bass, and to me, while I stared down the buster barrel of both my monumental accomplishment and mistake. Bass fought only because he chose to, because he knew he was strong, because he wanted to prove himself to all.

"Protoman said that Megaman might be weaker, or not as deadly, or not as bloodthirsty, but was stronger because he fought to protect those he loved and cherished. Bass, of course, the ever-stoic antihero, said he needed no one to help him, just him and his strength. I understood this, of course, because this was the ninth time Rock had managed to foil me. So I instantly came to a revelation.

"I made Levia half-heartedly, but even so he turned out to be a marvelous success. I hadn't really tried to make non-combatant units before, but I suppose if you do anything long enough you can just glide through something similar. He was a reploid, of sorts, perhaps a reference point to the modern standard. He had a predominant fixture towards the affectionate side of the human mind. I designed him so. I figured if Thomas built his children with love, so must I.

"Everything about him was artificial, Demos. Your misery belies your acceptance. He was grafted with artificial skin, hair, teeth, everything. I preprogrammed him to do everything in order to fool any careful eyes. I didn't even have to command him to make up his reasons for making you and your brother. In his mind, he sought only to make me happy, as any good son would for his father, and to make me happy, he would have to make you happy. You, as you are now, were what I originally demanded for. He issued the DRAKE commands on his own, but it helped. It was a significant excuse to hack into your mainframe and suppress your old memories, of when you fought by my side and your brother's side."

At this, Demos, beyond bewildered, gained a moment of clarity and opened his mouth to ask a question, but Wily was one step ahead.

"No, not Chaos or Havoc, or Zero. Bass. You had a fairly substantial relationship with him, even though he was on my black list. Hmph. I guess some things never change; my sons are all rogues. Even Levia began to grow increasingly distrustful towards the end. But, when it came down to the finale, he pulled through. He made many upgrades to you both, filled you two with something to fight for.

"Yes, though you may not remember it, you fought with Rock many times, but eventually broke off the engagements due to Bass' reasoning for hating me. This is what prompted the DRAKE project, as I mentioned earlier. You did exceptionally well, I might add, for not being a seasoned combat unit like Megaman. He often needed help from that mutt and Protoman, and once you even stopped at Bass' request. You can imagine my disappointment."

It was then that Demos muttered a vehement curse to Wily, showing that through the devastation he underwent, he was still the same rash hothead. Wily smiled to himself and continued.

"The end of this story comes to a close with my death. This is an underground lab, as you can see, in northern Siberia. My main lab, along with half of the fucking world, you see, blew apart when Zero went on his rampage. I acted quickly, seeing the fight through thermal satellite feed, and transferred myself here via teleporter. Downloading my brainwave patterns and memories, my body essentially withered under having my brain fully picked apart by decrypting lasers, but I knew my time had come. So I basically existed here, in this fully stocked and functional lab, with almost no outside connection to the world.

"When Zero did attack again, I had made up my mind that I wanted revenge. I contacted Levia through a secure radio transmission from within here, and informed him of the changes. He suggested separating you from your brother to prevent Zero from destroying you two at such an early stage. While it was also a brilliant idea, I could see the good doctor had grown far too attached. I can understand appreciating one?s work, but he carried it too far.

"And later Zero, blinded as the carrier of the pure strain Wily Virus, came and demolished Levia's lab, as I?m sure you fully well remember."

Demos nodded, now crossing his arms over his chest tightly and standing fully erect, a detached look crossing his face as he absorbed this all. He put up a brave front, but, secretly, inside, he was devastated.

"So that brings us here, my boy. Your body has begun increasing power output as a reaction to believing it is under the TITAN operating system, and, without my help, will eventually overflow and your reactor will meltdown. A fusion generator, coupled with the radioactive ion power core for the Fox-III buster, both melting down at the same time could have the same effects as a small nuclear accident. There's no telling how much damage it might do," Wily's persona cooed, still circling his creation. "You need my help. I'm the only one who knows the specifics of the TITAN project well enough to actually modify you...and, as much as I hate to say it, I need your help as well."

Demos' eyes shot wide and he turned swiftly to face the hologram, which now stopped its trek.

"You need ME?" Demos shouted, half in disbelief. "You have a lot of shittin' nerve, you know that? But what in the Hell could you need my help with?"

At this, Wily?s image grew dark, his eyelids narrowing, his brow furrowing.

"Zero. I want Zero. He disobeyed me, went insane, caused my death and destroyed all of my plans, all of my hard work... He even failed at passing on the Wily Virus to the world," the projection said, not quite catching the full meaning of his son's slight smirk and incredulous scoff. Nonetheless, he continued, "He is a failure at all he does and he must pay for his crimes. Bring him to me, either alive or with his neural net in one piece."

------

Havoc continued his ever-vigilant effort to pilot the HAPC with the utmost care, and, for the most part, he mimicked his brother?s control and skill with the vehicle, though he had a tendency to favor the right shoulder, but that was a simple swordsman trait. The night had crept up upon him, and he overlaid a thermal imagery scan over live feed, just as a precaution to make sure there were no threats hidden in the darkness.

"Or any deer crossing the roadway," Havoc muttered to himself wryly.

Warlock?s eyes flickered up to Havoc, staring almost coldly for a second before returning to his endless gaze at the panel before him. He had taken up Proteus' position for the time being while the younger reploid collected himself, but sat in a quiet, secluded manner, not saying much or doing much. Both the visual readings and various sonar devices showed an all clear, and he allowed himself the luxury of the silence.

Havoc had earlier rummaged through the weapon holds earlier while Iota made a decent job of getting them started on the long stretch of highway that seemed to span endlessly over the sand. He had found that the two bays segregated the types of weapons between, basically, humans and reploids. The foremost one contained a variety of firearms, projectile weapons, and close-range support. That included submachine guns to mounted anti-personnel to explosive anti-armor to an arrangement of swords, daggers, and throwing knives.

The side door leading into the next bay was like crossing through a lapse in time; everything seemed futuristic, even in the current world of modern wonders. Small devices marked as ion destabilizers were small generators the size of a warped and oblong marble that were to be inserted in various ports or held, if need be, on a reploid?s body. By enhancing and projecting a reploid?s energy signature, it created a barrier that, for a short amount of time, distorted the air with a thin-yet-durable energy lining that deflected plasma and pure energy bolts without strain on energy supply. The destabilizer simply amplified the power being used by a small heat convection turbine and miniature transformer.

Another marvel was a rail cannon that not only used electromagnetic power to send small mineral projectiles at supersonic speeds, but also to condense minute elemental particles in the air into a storage well within the butt of the rifle-like device so that an ammo cache is not always necessary. Though not always infallible, it did service very nicely, and had received excellent marks in testing. Though technically a manual weapon, it was a tad unwieldy and thus favored for Hunter use mainly.

There were many other types of almost foreign weaponry, like a gravitational cannon which stored electrical charges to draw or repel air currents, and was a favorite among assault units for attacking fortified positions and mass units of enemies. Or the dubbed "Swift Bolt," a carbine which housed a small positively-charged hydrogen cell wafer and ran an electric current through the core; the result was a long-range taser which, almost instantly on colliding with a target, dispersed the charge through the hydrogen molecules carried in the bolt, resulting in a dense explosion.

Havoc suddenly snapped from his thoughts and gazed hard at the wrap-around screen around his head. He tossed his neck slightly, moving some of the slate-gray hair from impeding his view; he saw the dim shape of the road turning off to the Aquaduct. It started out as a manmade cement valley with slanted, sloped wall, just shy of seventy-five foot drop to the one-hundred and fifty meter wide ravine that ran for another three miles to the huge, gaping piping that represented the service entrance to the network of tunnels and sewers below.

"Warlock, arm the main turret. This just screams 'ambush.'"[/size]