BEFORE READING:

I wanted to clear something up for you. This is not a new story. This is a repost of a story I wrote on the Bob and George Forums in 2005 over the course of nine months. I am posting it here for archival purposes, as those forums have begun deleting a lot of their old threads for a server move. This story was one such deleted thread, so I'm reuploading it here on FFNet so it can continue to live.

I was a much less experienced writer three years ago, and part of the reason I want to save this story is so I can look back on it and remember just how far I've come. As novels go, it suffers from some novice mistakes: inconsistent chapter lengths, simple and sometimes contradictory characterization, lack of a solid background, attempts to be too ornate for my skill level, and on. It was a very early piece of mine, and you can see where I began to develop my unique style as a writer.

Of course, there are some good things about it, too. The writing grows stronger the further in, my style beginning to emerge during its creation. As far as characters go, this story contains some of my favorites. And, as my father said (though it was meant as a criticism): "It reads like an anime." Plus, it's a classic.

So by all means, kick back and enjoy the story. Feel free to leave reviews, just remember that there's nothing I can do to change anything in this (I've given some thought to revising this, but it's just too daunting a task).

Oh, and this series is on-going, so I'll upload more eventually as they're finished.

CHAPTER 1

Santiargas, Mexico

13:01 March 7th, 2151

The hot sun beat down on the little town of Santiargas. The natives there sweat buckets daily, water vendors made a nice living, and Mavericks never showed up: too hot, too sticky, and by far too useless. People here lived without fear of being attacked by Irregulars or occupation by the Hunters. The dark-skinned men and women, and the occasional Reploid, walked the streets in peace and unhindered by brutes. It was a slice of Cielo, a mini-utopia, and the perfect place for a fugitive to hide out in.

A Reploid sat on the rough sand that made up the street, back against the stucco building, a large sombrero casting shade over his head and part of his upper body, a dust-brown poncho covering almost all the rest. A golden shoulder poked out on his right side, gleaming in the sun, while two dusty blue boots with red rimming were visible where the poncho ended. Armored gauntlets were clasped over his red chest under the fabric, and a gold-and-blue helmet with a light green, round-edged triangular jewel adorning the front. Thick gold plating lined the underside of the helmet, but it was broken away in a few places, revealing faded blue armor underneath. It stopped short, and a thinner line continued just above it, linking to the place where the visor would go if it had one. This was also cracked, and the blur armor that was under it all had large cracks and chips running throughout.

He heard sand crunching and shifting in his general direction, the distinct sound of boot steps. He remained still, trying to appear like he was dozing. Another man was sitting across the street from him doing the same, but he had the benefit of shade from the building he was leaning against. The poncho'd Reploid didn't flinch as the boot steps approached, three from what he could tell now, as he expected them to pass by just like everyone else. They didn't; they halted in front of him. Maybe they just wanted to sell him something?

click-click! The distinct sound of Buster Rifles being armed and leveled at a target, and it was directed at him.

Of all the rotten luck...

"¡Oye, señor!" one of the people (Reploids, he guessed) standing in front of him said. Definitely male, scratchy voice from breathing too much desert air while being used to the comfort and climate-controlled environment of a big city. Also, he could tell they were not accustomed to speaking Spanish, since he spoke without the proper accent.

"Yo no hablo el idioma," the blue-and-gold armored Reploid said in a carefully crafted accent. Of course it was carefully crafted: it was almost all he knew Spanish-wise, and he found himself saying it often.

There was a sigh, and the voice continued, but this time in clear English: "Taggs Eternal?"

Taggs decided it would be worth it to look at the intruders on his peace and quiet. He tipped his sombrero and looked up, and was first met by an eyeful of rifle barrel. He looked beyond the instruments of war shoved in his face and saw three Reploids, Hunter insignias jumping out at him. The one in the center was obviously older than the other two and was male. He had close-cropped black hair and stubble growing on his chin. Hard brown eyes tried to bore a hole in the gold-and-blue armored Reploid's face, but he remained impassive. The one to the left was definitely younger, black hair like the other one only longer and it came into a small ponytail in the back. He had more emotion on his face, seeming to be anxious and a little fearful. The Hunter on the right was female, with auburn hair that hung down about mid-distance down her back. Her face was impassive as well. They all wore bulky and heavy green armor with the Hunter insignia emblazoned on the right shoulder. In addition to the rifles they held in their hands, each had a specialized weapon strapped to their backs: the eldest one had a sniper rifle, the pony tailed one had a rocket launcher, and the female had what looked like a shotgun but had some strange configuration Taggs didn't recognize.

"Good afternoon, officers," the gold-and-blue Reploid addressed them, sarcasm lining his voice, "What can I do for you on this lovely day here in Santiargas? You look hot, maybe some of the local water peddlers can--"

"Cut the crap," growled the middle Hunter, "Are you Taggs Eternal or not?"

"Yo no entiendo inglés."

"Look you stinking Maverick filth!" the pony tailed boy said, "It's not a hard question! Now, since we all know who you really are, why don't you just come with us so we can get back to proper civilization?!" All the people in the streets had quieted down upon hearing the term "Maverick", and some of the older ones fidgeted.

"Jon, tone it down," the other male said, obviously the team leader.

"Your commander's right, son," Taggs piped up again, "The elders in this town don't respond very well to the word 'Maverick', and most of the younger folk have never seen one."

"Hmph, yeah right... there's one right here," Jon muttered under his breath.

"Jon! Shut it!" the team leader hissed, and looked about ready to physically reprimand the youngster.

"Uh, captain? The mission?" The female finally spoke.

"Oh, right," the captain said, "Listen, whoever you are, you've given us too much trouble already. If you'll just come back to base with us, I'm sure we can get your ID cleared and you'll be on your merry way."

"Yeah, into a jail cell..." Jon said under his breath.

Taggs stood up and dusted off his poncho. He removed his sombrero, revealing his bright, true-red hair to the world. Two thick, long bangs hung down in front of his eyes, but the rest of his hair was neatly cut. He bent down and picked up his helmet, brushed some sand out of it, pushed back his bangs and fitted the helmet to his head with a snap!

"Forget it," the gold-and-blue armored Reploid said, turning to walk off, "I'm not going with you. Hunters make me sick."

A shot rang out, and a scorched hole was punched in the wall just behind Taggs. The Reploid stopped walking, and turned rapidly on his heel. Instead of seeing what he expected, the youngest-looking Hunter holding a smoking rifle, he saw the team leader holding a smoking rifle.

"We asked you nicely," he growled, "Be warned, sir, that we are authorized to use force."

The gold-and-blue armored Reploid shrugged. "Feel free," he said, his tone dripping with anticipation. They hesitated only a moment before all three Hunters fired. Taggs moved out of the way as the shots struck buildings and push-carts all around the streets. Panic erupted in the streets as people ran about, shouting "¡Ataque de inconformista! ¡Todos esconden!" Taggs nimbly dodged between the civilians while the Hunters in their bulky armor had a harder time moving through the panicking throng of people. The heavily-equipped soldiers also found it impossible to fire at their target with all the civilians getting in the way.

However, it didn't take long for the people on the streets to clear out and run for cover in the nearest buildings, so the poncho-wearing Reploid found himself without cover. Immediately, rapid fire from the rifles opened up and peppered the ground around Taggs. He took a few hits that burned through the poncho, and he growled in frustration. Spinning, he quickly threw off the poncho and popped a weapon from a hip holster. It was his Magnum Buster, a hand-held prototype unit meant for Reploids with no built-in weapons. It was the "ancestor" of the rifles that Taggs' opponents now used against him, but he had managed to upgrade it over the years to keep it up-to-date. It hooked directly to his power core rather than use its own limited supply of energy. The gold-and-blue armored Reploid held down the trigger, and individual plasma shots started pouring from the barrel. The Hunters now found themselves under heavy fire.

"Jon! Knock him off his feet!" barked the team leader authoritatively, "Maria! Get ready!"

A plan, is it? Taggs thought wryly as he braced himself. It'll be interesting to see what these Hunters have come up with. After all, it's been many years since I last saw them. He noted with satisfaction when the youngest Hunter dropped his rifle and grabbed the rocket launcher. The pony tailed boy clicked the firing contact and a missile screamed out of the tube. It went too high and missed Taggs by a good half-a-foot, but the gold-and-blue Reploid knew that it wasn't aimed at him. The shell exploded behind him, and made him lose his footing. He regained his balance just in time to see the female Hunter had withdrawn the shotgun-like device and had it leveled at him. She pulled the trigger and a net sprung out of the barrel, flew through the air, and wrapped around Taggs with a snap!

The bound Reploid tumbled to the ground while the stubbly Hunter said, "Good work, guys. Let's get him onto the chopper."

Suddenly, Taggs started laughing. It went from just a small chuckle, to an outright guffaw, to an insane, almost sadistic laugh. "You idiots!" he cried out, squirming in the net, "Didn't your loser of a commander brief you? I don't think I'm to be taken lightly..." To the Hunters, it appeared that Taggs was squirming, but the gold-and-blue Reploid was repositioning himself. Within himself, at the same time, he started releasing safeties and prepping systems he hadn't found himself needing for a long, long time. An internal warning sounded as the mechanical and mental suppressors of his Eternal Core fell away, allowing him to access the depths of his power.

Bringing Eternal Core Overdrive online...

Booting main functions...

WARNING!

The system is unstable. Recommend running a medic-assisted diagnostic to determine point of instability.

/WARNING!

System last used: 2150

Percentage last used: 380

System fully online and ready for activation.

Taggs felt power flow through him in waves, a little counter "appearing" in his consciousness. He let it climb upwards steadily from 100 until it reached 200, then he cut it off; that level should be more than enough to deal with just three Hunters. He began to steadily flex his muscles, and just a moment later a snapping was heard. The gold-and-blue Reploid's gyros barely strained at all against the net that bound him. The Hunters stared in shock as their target literally ripped right up out of the net, the cords snapping over him. Without a word he moved quickly, dashing towards the team leader. His beam saber popped out of its holster hidden in Taggs' right thigh, and the gold-and-blue Reploid grabbed it and swung upward, cutting off his left arm. The Hunter screamed out in pain, but Taggs quickly spun around behind him and slammed his fist into the back of his head, effectively knocking him out.

The female Hunter seemed shocked for too long a time, and Taggs took full advantage of this. He briefly flashed his dash thrusters, launching him up in the air. He angled downward, landing behind the shocked Huntress. His hands moved almost too fast to see: one hand latched on to the top of her head while the other grasped her chin. Firmly holding her head, he twisted it roughly ninety-one degrees to the left. A loud snap! was heard, and the Reploid fell to the ground, the signal between her robotic brain and her power source being severed. The core stopped receiving signals to run, and without the core running, the rest of her entered shut-down, a state even the most basic technicians could fix. But still, a trickle of conductive fluid, a Reploid's "blood", stemmed from the corner of her mouth.

Two rounds struck Taggs in the shoulder, the actual damage just glancing off. He looked up to see the pony tailed Hunter firing his rifle wildly in his general direction. The gold-and-blue armored Reploid scowled and proceeded to duck and weave his way through the rifle fire. As soon as he got close enough, he grabbed the boy's wrist and squeezed and twisted until he felt it crack and shatter under the pressure. Jon let out a surprised and pained gasp, his rifle tumbling out of his hands and clattering to the ground. Still clutching the broken wrist, the Eternal swung around behind him, twisting until he heard two more cracks that signified the fracturing of his lower arm and shoulder. He then fiercely grabbed his other arm and snapped the upper arm clear in two, the manufactured bone jutting out of the skin and even penetrating the armor.

The Hunter gasped, trying to form words but found the pain too intense. Instead, he just mouthed sounds until Taggs kicked the back of his knees, knocking him to the ground. Bending low, Taggs whispered in the beaten Hunter's ear. "This is why you should always ask for all the information during a briefing. You never know who you're up against." He stuck a hand in one of the pouches on the Hunter's belt and rummaged around, his fingers finally brushing up against what he was looking for. He grabbed it and yanked it out: a Hunter Distress Beacon. He hit the red button, and a screen on the small unit lit up and began flashing. Dropping it beside the fallen Hunter, the gold-and-blue Reploid began to walk away.

About a yard away, however, he paused, and glanced over his shoulder. "By the way," he said to the barely-conscious Hunter, "Tell Calibur that I said hi." He then resumed his walk.