So, now we get to see exactly why Blaze is so messed up.
I must warn you, good reader: some bits of Blaze's nightmare could be considered a bit disturbing. It's not gratuitously descriptive, but it does get ugly, so if you AREN'T desensitized to violence, you may want to skip ahead.
… Honestly, I don't think it's that bad, but I'm aware that my standards are not the norm. Just figured I'd make sure I don't get any hate mail over a little gore.
Also in this chapter, we meet the members of The Twenty-Worst, and we finally see what Blaze is capable of.
Read, Review, and most importantly, Enjoy.
Blaze and The Twenty-Worst © Me
"Lt. Smith" is based on Smith from Shoot Em' Up © New Line Cinema
All other characters © Capcom
"Warning. Warning. Security breach has occurred in Sector 1." The mechanical voice of the lab's main computer droned over the intercom. It was immediately interrupted by the angry voice of The Doctor.
"There's only ONE SECTOR you piece of go se!"
The sound of her creator swearing in Mandarin quickly woke Blaze from her slumber. Her systems ran their very first diagnostic scan, detecting that there were no anomalies. Several systems were still incomplete and/or untested, but none were vital to the new reploid's function. Blaze flexed her fingers and looked around. The warning lights must have failed, because the room was pitch black, and her night-vision could only compensate slightly.
"Blaze, if you can hear me, get out, ma shong! Mavericks have broken through the security systems, but I don't think they're after you. If you run for it, they may decide you aren't worth their trouble. Avoid confrontation if possible, but bring the gun with you. It should be-"
The doctor was interrupted by a large explosion. "Mei yong ma duh tse gu yong! Blaze, forget the gun! Just KUAI QU HEN YUAN DE DI FANG!"
The sound of several shots followed. Then came a nasty grating of metal on metal, and a death rattle in a voice that was not the doctor's. The sounds of battle continued over the intercom system, and Blaze stood, bolted in place.
"Today's the first day of my life, and this f'n zse happens…" Blaze muttered to nobody in particular. The sound of another jarring explosion rattled her, and she spoke to herself again, her voice shaky. "And it's gonna be the LAST day of your life if you don't get out. C'mon, Blaze. Nee tzao se mah? Move…"
Suddenly, there was a different tearing sound. It was the sound of flesh being cut. "NI TA MA DE!!!" was the last sound she heard over the line before the signal died in a burst of static. She knew instinctively that her creator, her "father" was dead.
"… Goodbye, Dr. Setsura… Dad. I wish I could have met you…" Blaze only bowed slightly, as there would be time to grieve later, before turning and heading towards what she hoped was the door. Before she reached it, however, she heard heavy steps, and voices. She quickly ran a check of her data files. She and her father were the only residents of the lab. Which meant that whoever was outside the door was an enemy. Blaze slowly backed away from the door. She knew that she had little or no hope of victory. She was designed as a combat reploid, but combat systems were incomplete. "Lao tien fu…"
"Are we POSITIVE that guy was human?"
"His insides looked pretty human to me."
"Since when can humans cut through armor without any cybernetic enhancement?"
"Well, he did have a beam saber-"
"No he didn't. That blade was nothing but a lump of metal crystal. And no metallurgy I've ever heard of produces a blade SO sharp a human can cut reploid armor without ANY mechanical assistance. And besides, that still leaves the guy's speed to talk about. Have you ever seen a human THAT fast? The guy was like a bat out of hell. I've never heard of a human killing a reploid in straight combat, especially MELEE combat, before, and this guy killed THREE, AND chopped my fucking arm off!"
"The guy is, or rather, WAS a specialist in nano-machines. Maybe he enhanced himself in some way. I mean, given his reputation, that's exactly the sort of thing he'd do."
"… Would that actually work?"
"Fuck if I know. He was the specialist, ask him. Oh wait, you killed him, didn't you? So why are you bitching?"
"His death was way too quick, as far as I'm concerned. I really need to torture someone right now."
Blaze stifled a small yelp of fear. She prayed that there was another exit, but a quick scan of the room showed no other doors, and the only vent was too small to fit through, even for her.
"We get all the data?"
"Unless there's an isolated computer bank in that room there, yeah."
Blaze felt all the circulatory fluids drain from her face. Given their position, the only room they could be talking about was hers. She took several steps back, but knew there was no cover in the room that would conceal her. "Rung tse song di ching dai wuo tzo…"
Unfortunately, no power, deity or otherwise, could whisk her to safety.
"We may as well check it out."
Blaze swallowed hard as the door opened. She took a defensive stance, but couldn't stop her body from quivering with terror. She saw three Mavericks in the doorway. One had the appearance of an anthropomorphic rabbit with black fur, and armor to match. The second was horse-like, with oversized boots that Blaze assumed held extra dash thrusters. The last was a savage-looking Bear reploid, which had only a left arm. Blaze knew at that instant that she was fucked… Viciously, viciously fucked. Any ONE of these guys could beat her without breaking a sweat.
The Mavericks stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Check it out! The runt thinks she can take us!" The horse called out mockingly.
No. No, she did not.
"Should we even waste our time on her?" Asked the Rabbit, cracking up more with every word.
She briefly hoped that the question even being asked meant she had a chance.
"Yes. I still need to torture something, and this pipsqueak looks like she'll fit the bill just fine." The grizzly grinned evilly.
Fuck.
"But just to show you there're no hard feelings, kid, I'll let you take the first shot." The bear used his thumb to crack the joints of his other four fingers, a metallic pop resounding from each one.
Blaze gulped, and took another step back.
The Grizzly eyed her darkly. "Kid, you are GOING to die in the immediate future. But if I were you, I'd take any chance you could to bring me down so one of those two has the pleasure of crushing the life out of you. Believe me, brat… I'm NOT the one you want to die at the hands of!"
Blaze looked around at the expressions each Maverick bore and knew the bear was telling the truth. Her chance of survival was absolutely zero, as far as she could figure, and her brain could count VERY tiny decimals. Finally, she leapt at the Grizzly with a knife-hand strike, but the grizzly simply leaned back away from it. Continuing her motion, however, Blaze was able to flip upside-down and snap out a kick directly at the bear's snout. As she threw the kick, however, some joint gave way just slightly. It didn't slow her much, but it was enough for the grizzly to lean to the side of the blow. Opening his jaws wide, the bear bit down on Blaze's calf. Hard.
"KYYAAAAAAAAH!" Blaze immediately shrieked in pain as she felt each individual tooth sink straight through her armor, her synthetic skin, and her lightweight armored frame, tearing into the circuits and motors. The pain was so intense that her vision was blurred, and she went limp, hanging from the bear's jaws. Bolts of electricity ran through her body as her sensory system was overloaded by information on the damage, or in laymen's terms, every minute sensation from the wound.
The Rabbit grinned. "I think you hit a nerve, Ursa."
The Bear, whose name was evidently Ursa, answered unintelligibly, tearing the wound wider as he did so and eliciting another scream from Blaze.
"The girl's right, Ursa," the horse said, chuckling, "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full."
"… Lame, Equine," The rabbit muttered.
"Shut up, Jackrabbit."
Blaze tried to look defiantly at Ursa, but she knew that her tears weren't exactly intimidating to behold. Ursa simply grinned, biting down a bit harder on Blaze's leg. As she cried out again again, he drew back his one remaining paw, clenching it into a fist, and driving it into Blaze's stomach. Her eyes went wide in shock as she coughed violently, spitting red circulatory fluids, her "blood", all over Ursa's armor and fur.
The blow had such force that Blaze was thrown back against the wall of the room. Her senses were in overload, and she gazed through a red haze at Ursa, and saw to her horror that her leg hadn't made the flight with her. Ursa turned to the side and spit out the mangled limb, then advanced slowly on Blaze, relishing her terror almost as much as her pain.
Blaze hurt everywhere. She barely even felt it as Ursa's massive foot was driven into her gut, forcing another small amount of blood from her mouth. As she crashed into the wall and slumped to the floor, she tried to look around. It was difficult, since Ursa had gouged out her left eye, but she saw enough. The lab was a complete mess. There was blood everywhere, and every drop of it was hers. She couldn't even muster enough strength to plead with Ursa to just kill her and be done with it.
"Okay Ursa, seriously. I enjoy a good time as much as the next bloodthirsty killer," Jackknife said impatiently, "but can we get a move on? We have a schedule to keep."
"… Oh fine. Ruin my fun why don't you?" Ursa turned to Blaze, holding her bloodied form by the throat. "Consider yourself lucky, kid. I had another hour's worth of aggression to blow off."
"…Ni…t-ta…m-m-ma…d-de." Blaze tried to snarl, despairing when she barely managed a whimper.
"Like creator like pitiful creation…" Ursa grinned as he gave Blaze's neck a quick, one-handed jerk, snapping her neck servos and severing her major neural pathways. He then dropped her broken form to the ground.
She hadn't actually died right then. She had lain there for several minutes, silently crying, and unable to move as the life drained from her body. But the nightmare always cut off before that, denying her the ability to relive the part of the experience that had been, in retrospect, the best part. After the intense suffering she had endured, to feel herself losing all sensation, from the core out, seemed almost enjoyable when she was able to look back on it. And finally, the blackness had hit. But the nightmare always ended at the exact moment when the pain was at its most unbearable.
Dr. Setsura's paranoia had proved to be a double edged sword; On the one hand, his death had triggered an alarm, summoning the Maverick Hunters; On the other hand, he had neglected, to tell the Hunters where his lab was before this incident, and had so heavily encoded the signal that the Hunters' efforts to trace the signal back to the lab were delayed. Thus, when Hunters finally arrived on the scene, the Mavericks were long gone, and all that was left were the bodies of both Blaze and Dr. Setsura.
Blaze had finally awoken several days after that, her body repaired and the incomplete systems installed with the aid of the blueprints saved in Dr. Setsura's computers. When she had asked about the apparently fatal wound to her neural network, the Lifesaver Unit tending to her had no recollection of such a wound.
When she asked to see her father's remains, they had hesitated, before finally showing her to his body, which had been torn open by what could only have been Ursa's claws. In his hand was a katana of shimmering crystal, doused in dry reploid blood. At that moment, Blaze had decided to join the Maverick Hunters.
"Hey, Commander. Wake up." A tall, skinny Maverick Hunter in iridescent white armor spoke softly to Blaze. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but the moment he made contact, he found himself staring down the barrel of Blaze's revolver. Blaze shot awake instantly, screaming, "WO DE TIAN, A! Get away from me!"
"HOLY-! Don't shoot!"
Blaze was shuddering violently, tears running down her cheeks, terror gripping her tightly. She desperately forced herself to lower her buster gun, but couldn't stop shaking.
"You all right?" the reploid asked her, keeping a safe distance.
"… Nightmare," she answered after finally slowing her panicked breathing enough to speak.
"Must've been a really bad nightmare," the reploid said sympathetically.
Blaze tried to grin, even though her heart hadn't stopped racing. "You have… no idea…"
Several moments passed before Blaze could finally take a deep breath, and re-holster her revolver. "… Sorry about that," Blaze apologized, looking away, "You're a Hunter, then? Some first impression I'm making on someone who has to take orders from me."
"No biggie, Commander Blaze. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Sharp, former member of the 9th Black Ops, now Executive Officer of the Twenty-Worst," The reploid said with a grin.
"So, you're the one who gets to do my talking for me?"
"If necessary, yes. Not much of a people person?"
"Don't even get me started."
"Well, I guess I ought to show you around," Sharp said, offering his hand to Blaze.
She merely stared at it for a moment before climbing to her feet. Her nerves still tingled from sensations the dream had fed them, and the first few steps actually caused her to wince.
"… Right, then," As they exited the transport, Sharp gestured around. "Commander, welcome to the land of the month-long nights. I know it isn't actually a month, but I have a poor sense of time, which is kind of odd considering that I have a built-in clock, but the point is you shouldn't bother correcting me."
Blaze, however, was barely listening. She was berating herself inwardly for letting herself lose control so badly that she pulled her gun on a subordinate. While her career as a Hunter was pockmarked with weird incidents, she had never had such a bad experience before that she had inadvertently threatened one of her troops. She stared at her hand, which even now wouldn't stop trembling.
"Hey Sharp! Who's the chick?" came a loud voice from the landing platform.
"… Perhaps I should have mentioned that the entire Unit decided to come and welcome you to the Twenty-Worst in person…" Sharp whispered to her, before turning to the seven hunters assembled on the platform and shouting, "The 'chick' is Commander Blaze, Firestorm, so I'd suggest showing a bit of respect!"
"You're not seriously trying to convince me that THAT'S our glorious new leader, are you? She looks like a strong wind could knock her over!" Firestorm shouted back.
Sharp's eyes narrowed. "Look, Firestorm, we can take care of your stupid ritual tomorrow. The Commander… had a bad flight, okay?"
"Sharp. We've known each other a long time, right?"
"Yes."
"How likely is it that you'll be able to talk me down?"
"You want I should shoot you? That'd get you down pretty damn quick!"
Blaze somewhat hesitantly put a hand on Sharp's shoulder. He turned, and sighed. "Are you sure, Commander? He's going to want a fight. He always does when someone new shows up. ESPECIALLY if they outrank him."
Immediately, a large, muscular reploid with red and orange armor step forth from the group, grinning. With a name like Firestorm, she expected a heavy weapons reploid. But while Firestorm certainly could handle heavy armaments, he had the aura of a fist fighter. Indeed, Blaze recognized his gauntlets as being of a special alloy meant to defend against plasma attacks and his boots had similar plating on them. The extreme density of the gauntlets meant that only a very strong reploid could move while using such equipment.
"… You're formerly of the 14th Melee, right?" Blaze asked, testing her hunch.
"Got that right, 'Commander'! I've been personally trained by Magma Dragoon!" Firestorm answered proudly.
"You mean Magma Dragoon, the traitor to the Hunters?" Blaze asked, still shaky, but she couldn't stop the sly grin from spreading across her face, knowing instinctively that even with a weak delivery, that comment would hit a nerve. The 21st Unit began laughing collectively, with the exception of Firestorm, who seemed mortified. His face was red, both from embarrassment and indignation. Knowing her ability to hit a weak spot was still intact lifted Blaze's spirits slightly.
"Okay, 'Commander', enough with the words!" Firestorm stood tall, obviously trying to intimidate Blaze with his substantial stature, which was nearly double hers, "Whenever the Twenty-Worst gets a new member, they have to be tested by their troops… In BATTLE!"
"… Just bi jweh and hit me already," Blaze sighed, assuming a combat stance.
"You asked for it!" Firestorm charged at Blaze, throwing a powerful punch at her face. Blaze simply dropped down onto her right hand, using her left leg to deflect and lock in the punch, and driving her other foot into Firestorm's gut. He stumbled back, Blaze's leg still wrapped around his forearm. Pushing off with her hand, she propelled herself upward, swinging up so she was almost sitting on Firestorm's outstretched arm, and striking him across the face with a powerful backfist, before falling backward off, and handspringing back to a safe distance. Firestorm responded by spinning with the punch, launching a powerful crescent kick at Blaze's chest. Blaze ducked under it, and attempted to interrupt with a roundhouse kick to the body, but Firestorm was ready, and used his forearm to block her leg hard. Blaze flinched as her leg bounced off the super-dense gauntlet, and she was caught hard in the gut by the spinning back kick that followed the crescent. Blaze was launched back by the force of the blow, and landed painfully, crouching down and spitting out a small amount of blood. She looked up at Firestorm, who was grinning broadly, shuffle stepping back and forth slightly. Despite his size, he apparently just as capable of using quicker, more flexible blows. "You really ought to get up," Firestorm said, "I wouldn't hit you when you were down, but kneeling isn't down in my book." With that, he charged with a crossing side-thrust kick. Blaze leapt up, flipping upside down, hooking her right instep around his ankle. Firestorm held the kick out straight for a moment as a flourish, and grinned, but was quickly shocked to see Blaze hanging from his leg like a bat. With a sigh, Blaze swung her other heel into the back of Firestorm's knee, causing his leg to buckle inward, swinging her toward his other knee, which she struck from behind with a knife hand. Firestorm was immediately sent face-first down to the cold metal surface of the landing platform.
"Are we done yet?" Blaze asked, sitting on Firestorm's back, slowly pulling his leg back with a leg lock.
"No offense, 'Commander', but shove it up your ass!" Firestorm spat venomously.
"No ma fuhn, soldier," Blaze said softly before driving her elbow backward into the back of Firestorm's head, smashing his face into the metal floor. The impact knocked him out cold, and blood began to run somewhat profusely from his nose.
Blaze got to her feet, licked and with the tip of her index finger wiped off the small line of blood that was dripping from her mouth, then turned to the rest of her new unit.
There was silence.
"Sharp, have you got a data pad for me?" Blaze asked, turning to her second-in-command.
"Yes, ma'am." Sharp quickly produced a small palm-sized computer with a large screen and a stylus. Blaze took it, and quickly accessed her Unit Roster. Including her own, the list bore nine names under the subdivision "Combat Units". Blaze began taking role call, silently checking her own name off.
"Lieutenant Sharp."
"Here, ma'am," Sharp answered immediately. Blaze had already checked him off.
"Lieutenant Slate Tortoise."
"Here, ma'am," came the reply as a massive tortoise reploid in stony-looking armor so thick his face was obscured stepped forward, shaking the platform as he walked. He attempted to salute, but his armor restricted his movements so much his hand couldn't reach his head. Two massive rifles were attached to his back, held by sub-arms extending from his waist. Blaze didn't even have to ask to know he was a former member of The 8th Armor. Blaze checked him off.
"Lieutenant… Smith?"
"Here," answered a dark-haired reploid with a gaunt face and an armored coat, which Blaze guessed concealed several hidden weapons. The strange reploid pulled out a carrot, and took a single bite out of it, chewing slowly. The reploid clearly had the arsenal of an 8th Unit Hunter, but had the calm, almost haughty aura of The 0 Special Ops. But the characteristics of a special op did NOT include any traits that got one tossed into the 21st. "… Yes. I AM in fact a former Special Op from Unit 0," Smith cut in, reading her expression easily.
"Huh," Blaze mused as she checked his name off. Continuing down the list, she read the next name twice in her head to make sure she got it right. "Officer… Hypothermic… Kingfisher?"
"Roles off the fucking tongue, doesn't it, Commander?" asked a bird reploid with sharp icicles in place of feathers on her wings and plumage. Kingfisher's long, narrow beak formed as large a grin as possible as she said, "I've taken a blood oath to kill whoever gave me that name." That comment was enough for Blaze to guess that Kingfisher was formerly of The 7th Air Cavalry: Her second best guess, The 13th Polar Warfare, usually consisted of far less ballsy Hunters. Blaze checked her off, feeling semi-unpleasantly as though she'd heard that name before.
"Officer Dust Gila."
Only a hiss sounded from the sand-colored lizard reploid who stepped forward. Sharp stepped in, "Ma'am, our friend here has no working speech program as a result of a Sigma Virus infection a few years back. He's completely clean, but fighting the virus's influence messed up his code slightly. He understands just fine, though." Dust nodded in concurrence. He grinned, bearing several razor-like teeth, and saluted with one of his sharp-clawed hands. At his sides, he had a pair of beam sabers. Blaze had a feeling that Dust used to be in The 4th Desert Combat. Blaze checked his name off as well.
"Sergeant Strike Scorpion."
"Here, ma'am." The scorpion reploid was almost definitely from The 14th. He possessed six arms, the top pair bearing large metal pincers. The other four had short claws in the knuckles, and his feet had a single large, hooked claw each. His segmented tail also had a wicked looking blade at its end. "And if I may, ma'am, I would like to apologize for my partner's behavior earlier. You may have noticed ma'am, that he is a…" he paused, presumably to come up with a polite way of saying "complete fucking moron".
Finally, he settled with, "…complete fucking moron."
"… Like I told him, No ma fuhn." Blaze nodded as she checked Strike off, ignoring his rather uncertain glance in response to her Mandarin. "Petty Officer Firestorm." Blaze simply looked at the beaten melee combat reploid for a second before checking him off and moving to the last name on the list. "Private Omicron."
"Here ma'am!" was the enthusiastic response that immediately flagged Omicron as a rookie. He was no taller than Blaze, and wore utilitarian green armor. Blaze was surprised to see such a rank amateur already reduced to the 21st, especially one so new that they didn't seem to understand what such an assignment meant. Blaze checked him off, then checked his rank, and saw that he was so new that he didn't even have a Combat rank yet.
Blaze looked around, looked over the list one more time, and then deactivated the data pad. "Sharp, I assume that's our ride," Blaze said, pointing to the large blue craft docked on the opposite end of the landing platform.
"Affirmative, Commander," Sharp answered.
"Sheh sheh." Blaze cleared her throat, turned toward the transport, took several deep breaths in preparation, and shouted, "Medic!" Several seconds later, a Lifesaver unit with dark gray armor rather than the usual white emerged from the ship, and approached. Blaze simply pointed at Firestorm.
"… Not again…" Lifesaver sighed as he picked up the unconscious fighter, carrying him to the transport. Blaze couldn't help but smile slightly. The brawl with Firestorm had reminded her of one thing that boosted her confidence: despite all of her weaknesses, quirks, phobias, and the like, she could still kick peoples' asses very handily. Handily enough, at least, to offset the incidents her record was littered with.
So, Blaze's past is more than a little messed up. But it's okay: there's nothing quite as therapeutic as breaking someone's nose.
Next time, we'll finally meet the villain of the story, and see what makes him so dangerous.