Hello everybody, this is X the Reaper, bringing you the second chapter of Mega Man ZX3: Omega's Ascension!

Disclaimer: Mega Man and all its sub-series belong to Capcom. The original idea for this belongs to the author Kuraselache. X the Reaper owns nothing.

Alright, let's go!

Giga Arcadia. One of the largest cities in the world and widely renowned as the fastest growing in hundreds of years since the great Utopia known as Neo Arcadia was annihilated by the orbital space cannon Ragnarok at the climax of the final war between humans and reploids. Strongly reminiscent of the ancient city in more than just name, Giga Arcadia was now seen by many as a beacon of progress and safety that had once been attributed to its namesake of two centuries ago. It wasn't always that way though, as until recently the tropical region that the great city was situated in was known merely by the name of Arcadia up until a few years ago.

Originally beginning life as a small island community set deep in the heartland of the southern tropics, Arcadia was a quiet region where aging humans and reploids could retire from the bustling city life of places like Cinq Ville. The distant location of the isles meant that the inhabitants were also relatively safe from the threat of mavericks, due to the fact few of the hostile machines possessed the means to travel that far from the continental mainlands, and so it was often considered by many to be a suitable vacation or resting spot for those just trying to get away from the struggles of fighting for a living. Not surprisingly, some of the most frequent visitors were from the likes of Guardians or Hunters looking to spend some well-earned crystals and relax on the beaches half-naked out of armor or simply observe others in similar positions.

However, Arcadia's idyllic peace soon came to an end in recent years as the islands experienced an explosion in both population and economic terms. Smaller cities throughout the world had been overrun, devastated not only by increasingly coordinated maverick attacks but also from within as civilians struggled to get by on dwindling resources. Technically, there shouldn't have been any shortages at all, for the Energy Crisis had long ago been solved thanks to the development of the world-renowned C.I.E.L System by the scientist and war hero of the same name, which was later mass-produced and sent around the world by Slither Inc. That was until the company had suddenly been destroyed in a massive and mysterious assault roughly four years ago and resulted in the overloading of one of the biggest C.I.E.L Systems around the world, which in turn resulted in many smaller units that had drawn power from the main plant to either shut down or explode.

This caused energy production to grind slowly down to a halt until similar units could be mass-produced and distributed globally. Although Cinq Ville, the city that had drawn power directly from the main plant, had quickly rebuilt from the devastating attack and global energy production began to increase once new systems were developed, riots quickly broke out after a series of terrorist attacks committed by dangerously intelligent Mechaniloids caused people to believe the dangerous Maverick raids from decades ago were starting up again.

While Legion sought to assure the populace that everything was under control, even they couldn't commit the vast resources necessary to rebuilding so many damaged communities at once, nor could they simultaneously aid in effectively pushing back the increasing aggressive attacks committed by the feral machines. While the Guardians and other military forces dedicated themselves to protecting civilians and purging the occupied Irregular areas, the surviving refugees that didn't join them as volunteers fled to safety overseas, seeking sanctuary as far away from the whine of buster fire and threat of war until the dangers could be contained safely. Arcadia was one such place, a distant series of exotic islands located in the southern hemisphere, offshore the coastline of what had once been called Southeast Asia.

However, Arcadia did not truly receive its new name of 'Giga' until the roughly a year ago, when several attacks hit major locations throughout the areas that had once been called Europe and North America. A massive influx of refugees allowed Arcadia to swiftly evolve from a slowly growing minor community to a burgeoning metropolis and continued to grow as people, whether by forced circumstance or paranoid caution, sought safety within the isolated region. While the innermost city was formed primarily of old housing and the original settlements, new apartments and buildings were constructed at a rapid pace, expanding outwards from the formerly peaceful resting places and spilling across former borders into the surrounding environment. Enclosed on all sides by thick jungle and mountainous terrain, the city was nestled quite safely within the island's heart while simultaneously protected by the natural formations of jagged reefs, steep cliffs and powerful ocean currents. Such features made the offshore tropics a danger to even reach, much less attack, and so the inhabitants were rather secure in the knowledge that they were safe, at least relatively speaking, from maverick attacks.

As the population neared twenty million and rising, it wasn't long before the city (a term which had grown to denote the main island and many of the surrounding ones) was finally christened as Giga Arcadia, both in honor of the original foundations upon which the city had been and the historical civilization of centuries past that had attempted to foster peace between Humans and Reploids. Unlike the original Neo Arcadia, Giga Arcadia had no need of an Eden Dome; the weather patterns were pleasant year round and the isolated location rendered threat of Maverick attacks, while not void, extremely unlikely, even in the event of an aerial assault. Equally unlike its predecessor, Giga Arcadia was a place humans and reploids peacefully coexisted, working together as one race to develop their new home, unlike the dystopian regime that Neo Arcadia had eventually sunk into.

As the months passed, refugees continued to pour into the islands at an increasing pace, fighting around the world intensifying all while those who wanted no part of it fled. Mass expansion had now become a necessity in order to sustain the new population growth. Ironically though, many of the new arrivals had no idea who exactly was in charge of Giga Arcadia. Yes, there was a citizen's council and there were officials who were in charge of various areas of importance, from residence development to settler comfort, proper food cultivation to environmental protection, overseas communication to international immigration, but all of these beings in truth answered to one man, who was considered undisputed president for his efforts in aiding the growing city's transformation into a metropolis and its continued defense.

Sharp-eyed and no-nonsense taking, James Walker had quickly gained popularity with the local authorities after he arrived from the Outlands with the offer of installing a prototype C.I.E.L system for the locals. As the Slither Inc. plant had recently experienced its massive energy overload, the cause of which was either still unknown or simply undisclosed to the public, the Arcadians had leapt at the opportunity to have a massive source of clean energy so soon. Despite some skeptics saying it was too good to be true and that Walker was simply attempting to grab power in the islands, even they had to begrudging admit that the system, one of the few that worked on a mass scale, was in fact the real deal and provided not only enough power to Arcadia, but even to several nearby countries several times over.

This act had made Walker a sort of folk hero, but his true claim to fame did not come until the Maverick attacks of the previous year, when he had been one of those who suggested that Arcadia should further develop in accommodate the surviving refugees so that the Guardians could focus on the worldwide Maverick threat unhindered. While Walker was not the first to voice such ideas, he was one of its driving proponents and soon became the face of the movement, and when Legion had agreed and donated plentiful funds and resources so establishing such a safehaven for citizens worldwide could become a reality, he was at the head of the reform and development movements to make it possible. From there on, Walker had only advanced his position, always careful to appeal to both the public and to the nature of the politicians-until it was suddenly apparent to the latter that he was now the one in charge as a new military group appeared with the pledge of protecting the newborn region from harm, himself at the head.

However, while the politicians squirmed uneasily at being outmaneuvered by an outsider and many of the original populace bemoaned the overcrowded mess that their once-tranquil islands had become, the refugees viewed their newfound president and his military force with approval. Many of them signed up into his employ immediately to help bolster his forces's numbers and do their part in safeguarding their new homeland, both from within and without. The fact that there was much less a chance of an attack actually happening and that the chance for a warm meal and bed was essentially confirmed, plus pay, likely played a large role in recruitment. In addition, Walker for his part was a more or less fair leader, so there was little true discontent to be had from the population. Sentient beings had long had a habit of gravitating towards the strong after all, and there was little doubt in anyone's mind that James Walker was the strongest presence in Giga Arcadia.

With Master Albert's defeat, many had thought that peace was all but inevitable and that the refugees would at last be able to return home to begin the process of rebuilding their lives, but the attacks worldwide had not decreased. In fact, they seemed to be increasing at rates not seen since the ancient Maverick Wars of centuries ago, which had lead to rising fears that another apocalypse-level catastrophe was on the rise. And so Giga Arcadia continued to flourish, with thousands arriving at the city gates daily. While overpopulation was fast becoming a concern, so too was the fear of global war breaking out. For many, it had become not so much a matter of if it would happen as one of when.

It was upon such a scene that the tropical sun rose a quiet morning, flooding the bustling streets of the city with golden hues. The sky shone like sapphires as the dawn chased the fading stars away, and as the nocturnal life of Giga Arcadia retired at the coming of day, the majority of its inhabitants awoke to begin yet another small chapter of their lives. Yet despite such tranquility a strange eerie stillness seemed to hang in the air, only palatable to the observant but still managing to cast a subconscious sense of tension upon even the most oblivious of refugees, despite not knowing why.

The pair of guards that stood at the ready near one of the city gates was an example of such tension. Both were human males, one decked in maroon armor while the other was in an orange assembly, both carrying a standard issue buster rifle in hand. Known to all as the Freelancers, the joint Human/Reploid force in the employ of the city's president, both men were members of the elite guard tasked with defending the borders of Giga Arcadia from any and all potential attacks. The maroon one, named Simmons, was brown-haired and brown-eyed, his hair showing some grey near the back as he casually rubbed it from where it stuck out under his helmet. His expression was one of alertness, though tinged with boredom as he scanned the road and jungle before him, leaning back against the wall to get in the shade, pointedly ignoring his fellow brown-headed companion. His name was Grif, though Simmons could think of several other names for him as he watched the yellow soldier pop what looked like some sort of sugar cookie into his mouth over his open helmet, his eyes displaying just boredom as he stared ahead.

"Seriously man?" Simmons couldn't help but ask. "Not fifteen minutes after we had breakfast and you're already snacking down?"

"Hey, it's hot and I'm bored," Grif replied with a flippant tone, his eyes casually scanning the horizon and the roads for any signs of movement, though it was obvious it was more a reflex than anything. While both of them were equipped to deal with any potential attack, at least long enough to send for reinforcements, it still didn't change the fact that the chances of an actual Maverick attack were about as high as Santa Claus coming into town for his winter vacation. Not very likely, and both of them knew it. "I gotta pass the time somehow. Kinda wish something would come jumping out of those trees, just to break the boredom."

Simmons glanced over at the mentioned trees, as if daring Murphy to make Grif eat his words. No such luck, so he settled for sighing. "Stop complaining. The work's easy enough and we're doing a good enough job just standing here. If the refugees are happy, that makes the boss happy, which is good for us. What more do you want?"

"Probably an air-conditioned suit," Grif grumbled through his munching, fumbling with his collar as he leaned against the wall, trying to avoid the sun's direct rays. "Lord knows we could use and afford a few."

Simmons couldn't disagree with that, especially as he found himself shifting to get deeper into the shade. It was only about 8:30 and it already felt like an oven. Silence fell over them for a few minutes as they sought to find new positions, then Grif spoke again.

"Hey?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever wonder why we're here?"

Simmons shot him a confused look, so he elaborated. "I mean, here, just standing guard at a post where we're barbecuing in our suits. I mean, I thought we signed up for this shtick to make a difference, not sit around on our asses. Like, I signed up because I thought I would be, you know, fighting Mavericks."

"I thought it was the idea of an easy job," Simmons countered. Grif shrugged in defeat.

"That too, yeah. But I kinda just feel...cheated. I mean, there are guys like you and me, fighting for their lives across the ocean, all to take back the lands that belonged to us, despite not having any real stake in it. If anything, we should be fighting alongside them, yet we're just standing here all safe, talking while waiting for our next case of heatstroke."

Simmons had to admit, his partner had a point. The two of them had originally met back in what was had once been called western North America, but two of the many refugees fleeing the country after a massive maverick surge. Simmons didn't have any family to speak of, but Grif had had a little sister who, while they had never been close, went missing during the exodus. They had stuck up a sort of rapport and had held together during the hard times, eventually arriving here and joining the Freelancers. He still missed his old home and part of him wanted to go back, though he had to be honest with himself when he remembered that his life meant more to him than his home.

"Yeah...but hey, if worse comes to worse like they're saying, Giga Arcadia will probably be one of the few safe locations left. Then you and me will probably be reassigned outside the region, helping the Guardians take back all of Inner Peace."

"Either way, it definitely beats frying in the sun like this," Grif grumbled, running a hand through his brown hair as he quickly chomped on another cookie. Simmons was about to add that frying in the sun would be the least of his worries if someone caught him lazying around like that when a flicker of motion in the distance caught his attention. He quickly pushed off the wall and prepared to bring his rifle to bear, Grif hurriedly following his example as he he tried to put his helmet back on while finishing his snack, but they both relaxed when they realized it was a false alarm. Ahead of them was a jeep carrying two similarly-clad soldiers, albeit with different colored armors, that made them realize it was just a pair of reinforcements returning from their overnight patrol around the jungle borders. Resuming previous positions, Simmons and Grif waited until the newcomers, one female human in aqua armor and one male reploid in cobalt armor, finally reached the city gates. Grif noted with some amusement that both of them were covered in sweat, pleased that he wasn't the only one suffering in this heat, but he refrained from showing it due to the identity of the guards in question.

"Captain Carolina, Lieutenant Church," Simmons said with a note of respect, snapping off a swift salute, Grif belatedly following suit.

"None of that today, Corporal," Carolina replied, running a hand through her damp red hair as she noted their conditions. "Good to see that you're both standing guard."

"You know us, Semper Fi and all that," Grif replied cheekily, quickly holding up a tin of cookies. "Want one?"

The woman shook her head while the man obliged, quickly munching on them. "Sheesh," he, Church, noted. "If it were anyone else coming over here, you'd be reported in a heartbeat."

Church, like Simmons and Grif, was one of the many volunteers who had joined the Freelancers after they had been established. Originally from Cinq Ville, he had first arrived here when Slither Inc had gone under, working out a life as a desk jockey before Walker had begun offering jobs in his security force. His skills at organization had allowed him to advance moderately fast into the force, and he had the privilege of being one of the few refugees who had had an opportunity to meet the president face-to-face and speak to him.

Carolina, on the other hand, had apparently been part of the band that Walker had first lead into Arcadia back when he brought the C.I.E.L. System here. Despite this, she seemed most comfortably working at the rank-and-file level, often being one of the first to be sent on scouting patrols or, like today, inspecting the conduct of soldiers who were supposed to be doing such jobs. She had been in charge of training the group that Grif and Simmons had been a part of, and she had seemed to have gained a soft spot towards them, enough that she'd be somewhat lenient in her surveys.

"I'll let it slide for today," Carolina said, her eyes on him. "Both the treats and the fact that you're eating them, thus making you an accomplice."

Church muttered something inaudible as he finished munching. Simmons decided to get things back on track as he tilted his head to look at their jeep.

"Hey, wasn't there a third guy with you?" he asked, getting their attention. "I'm pretty sure the patrol group for this area was supposed to be three..."

"Huh, you're right," Grif added, though whether because he actually noticed or simply didn't want to look like an idiot for not knowing was unclear. "No problem with any Mavericks out there, I hope?"

Church rubbed the back of his head. "Nothing more than usual, though some of the surveillance 'bots detected some weird frequency reading down at the southernmost beach. Washington went on ahead to check, but he told us to go back and report this."

"Washington?" Simmons asked. "You mean Commander Washington?"

"Is there another?" Church sarcastically asked. "Specifically one that wears grey armor with yellow highlights despite this heat?"

Washington was another old member of the Freelancers, and like Carolina had been with Walker from damn near the beginning. Unlike Carolina though, he always seemed to work at a distance, never really speaking or interacting with anyone save when it was required. The fact he had gone with them on a simple patrol was rather strange to be honest.

"Came to me and directly asked to be part of it," Church answered when Simmons said that last statement aloud. "I wasn't gonna argue with that guy."

"Either way," Carolina interrupted, placing the conversation back on track, "we're here now. I have to go and make that report to the president now."

"Wait, couldn't you guys have just used the radio?" Grif couldn't help but ask. "Kinda a waste of time to come all the way back when you've got, you know, something that does it for you without moving?"

"We couldn't call back. Whatever's out there, it's fried our communication systems completely," Church answered, adding his two cents in. "Check your own readings; they're probably all screwy too, even from here. Mine still is."

Grif shrugged and turned on his com-link, turning away from Simmons as he prepared to contact him by it. To his surprise, he found that the reception seemed to be almost non-existent, a blast of white noise shooting into his ear as he tried to open a channel. He quickly turned back and made a vague gesture towards his helmet, prompting Simmons to the do the same and get the same results.

"Washington didn't want to risk the jeep bugging out for some reason, so he told us to go back while he checked it out alone," Carolina told them. "What we do know is that the signal around the city is incredibly poor due to something on that beach. I need to tell President Walker now before the interference causes problems for the refugees."

Damn right it would. The only truly viable method of travel and transportation on and off Giga Arcadia was via transervers, and while they were amazingly advanced technological pieces of equipment, they were also surprisingly delicate. A destructive interference like this could possibly damage or even render them offline, and then they would all be in trouble.

"Got it," Simmons finally said, moving to the side. "We'll keep watch here in case Washington comes a'calling."

Grif snapped off a salute as the two soldiers nodded their thanks and then drove past them into the city. The two men watched them go for a few seconds, then turned back to the road.

"...Got twenty E-crystals says that the Commander will be back without a scratch before noon," Grif suddenly said, turning his head to look at Simmons. "Wanna bet?"

Simmons rolled his eyes. It was a childish and frankly dumb way to try and pass the time, but it was better than nothing. "You're on."

Carolina parked the jeep in front of the area that served as the Freelancer HQ inside the inner city. Unlike the grand image one might envision, a mighty tower at the city's center reaching towards the sky as if daring to pierce the heavens, the HQ really looked, aside for some higher-grade materials and the obvious increase in security, like one of the nicer looking abodes (three-stories tall) that had been built for the refugees, especially given its nearness (maybe four kilometers or so) from the city entrance. Then again, Walker had never been big on making a show; he preferred efficiency over all, especially given the duty of managing Arcadia's dwindling resources. Next to her, Church eyed the building warily.

"Did I ever tell you about the eerie feeling I get every time I'm about to go into this building?"

"Multiple times, yes," she answered him, adjusting her rifle over her shoulder and quickly getting out to walk towards it. She turned back to him. "Staying?"

"Yup. The prez just kinda creeps me out a little bit," Church replied, settling into his seat to wait, eyes not once leaving the building. "I'll still be here when you walk out. Tell me what 'Hero-Man' wants us to do when you do."

Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to make him come, and ignoring his jab towards their leader and commanding officer, Carolina left him there. She was well acquainted with Church's dislike of Walker, though it wasn't too surprising considering that he came from Cinq Ville. Most anyone from that place would be wary of figures who had so much power as Walker did, given what happen to the president of Slither Inc., Serpent. He had been called a 'hero' much like Walker was now, and how did he end up? Dead and no doubt buried under a ton of rumble, if he hadn't been incinerated by the energy backlash from the C.I.E.L. system. Just the like hundreds of others who had been living near the plant when it came tumbling down, chunks crashing onto the residential areas of the inner city's interior.

Church's late wife had been one such casualty. He hadn't returned to the city after it had been rebuilt, preferring to stay here. Probably because he didn't want to remember those times, but then again, he was no different in that respect from several hundred-thousands of other refugees within the city limits. He was just one who managed to move on, more or less, from it.

Although, as Carolina reflected as she opened the doors to the office and made a beeline directly towards Walker's area, giving the secretary a nod of the head as she passed, it wasn't just being a Cinq Ville refugee that made him wary of Walker. The man was a little...odd in ways, especially in his desire to always remain in-control of a situation. He could rein it in, but when it came out it could be occasionally...jarring. Granted, it helped him manage his duties as president and had kept him alive in his days of roaming the Outlands, but she could understand how a stranger could look into eyes that seemed to burn a hole right through as if figuring out how to best use you to his ends and decide they didn't like it.

She quickly climbed the stairs, having removed her helmet so that her sweaty skin could feel the blow of the air-conditioner, and paused in front of the hardwood door that separated Walker's office from the outside world. Taking a breath, she quickly cradled her helmet in a respectable position under her arm and shifted her rifle to a more comfortable position.

She lifted her hand and knocked politely three times.

"You may enter," came a muffled voice on the other end.

Carolina pushed the door opened and beheld the leader of Giga Arcadia. Tall but surprisingly slender of frame, James Walker was rather handsome despite the tell-tale signs of aging already showing in his face. His black hair with just hints of grey peppering was cut short but looked somewhat spiky, as if he didn't bother to care for it when he woke up in the morning, though one could argue it was just the stress of managing an entire metropolis that caused it. Much like the building they were in, his uniform was rather bland, grey with only a few golden patches and marks on it to indicate his true importance. Despite this, it was still clean and didn't seem to have a crease, showing that he did care for some level of appearance. He was currently looking over a computer screen, rapidly typing away as his eyes flickered across it as if attempting to absorb everything he typed instantly. Carolina took notice of the two cups of half-finished coffee, both seemingly already cooled, near his desk in addition to the slight bloodshot look in his eyes, and came to the conclusion he had likely been in this state for a good portion of the night.

"Sir," she stated politely, standing at attention as she waited for him to take notice of her. He took a moment or two to respond, glancing over at her for a second finally coming to a stop in whatever he had been typing. His grey eyes, despite the subtle signs of insomnia, were still very much alert, and like sharpened stone they seemed to pierce her through.

"Captain," he greeted her, not warmly, but it wasn't hostile either. "I take it you must found something important on your patrol, considering the fact you chose to contact me in person rather than by comms."

"Sir!" she nodded. "Forgive me, but my patrol's comms were unavailable. The cause appears to be a strange interference we detected at the southernmost beach, and Border Patrol Group 3 confirmed an unusual frequency that distorted their communication systems, rendering them unable to signal for assistance or alert us to the problem. Even the Border Guards were unable to use their systems to contact us when we were in close proximity."

"I see," Walker replied stonily, his voice holding just a trace of concern now. "What of Maverick activity?"

Carolina felt like he would ask that. While threat of Maverick attack was almost nonexistent on the islands, that didn't mean there was no such activity. There was no way so many people in one place wouldn't attract some of the dangerous machines after all, though they mostly focused in the wilderness. "Our scanners seemed to indicate increasing activity around that area, and their's collaborated with ours on that, but we're unsure as to whether they're the cause of this interference or simply being attracted towards its signal. Nonetheless, the frequency interference is strong enough that it's affecting our systems near the city gates. We fear it may potentially affect the city's transerver system if left unchecked," she finished, waiting for his reply.

Walker was silent as he digested this, then he brought up the security logs to confirm that, yes, there were indeed such unusual frequency readings at the beach. He noted the relative strength of it, and reasoned that yes, the signal was strong enough to reach over to the city, but he noted with some satisfaction that it shouldn't prove too much of an issue with the transerver system. All the same, it was strong enough to interfere with the Freelancer's communications, and therefore it was necessary to deal with it as soon as possible, especially if it somehow strengthened.

The city's defenses had to be at their best at all times, or else the people who begin to lose faith in him, and then it would only be a few stepping stones to anarchy...

"Are there any groups en route to this location already?" he asked Carolina.

"Commander Washington went on ahead," she told him. "He didn't want to risk our patrol being stranded if the signal somehow affected our vehicle. I agreed."

Walker nodded. "I'll send a group rendezvous with him for investigation then. Carry on, Captain."

Carolina nodded, then paused. "Sir. Permission to join the recon unit?"

"Denied, Captain," he replied, offering her a tired smile as he turned back to the computer. "I think you've seen enough action for now. Take a load off from patrol duty and go get something to eat."

"Yes sir." She snapped off a crisp salute and turned to leave, though she did so somewhat reluctantly. The sound of typing followed her as she left.

When the door closed, Walker sighed deeply as he ceased typing, standing up to walk towards his window. He gazed downwards and watched as Carolina exited the building and joined up with her partner, the Lieutenant, if memory served, in the jeep. They seemed to speak for a moment, then the Captain took the wheel and began to drive them off, not, as he noticed with approval, back towards the gates. Carolina had been with him from near the beginning and was a damn fine and loyal soldier, but she had a bad habit of occasionally doing what her heart told her rather than what he did. He was satisfied that she had chosen to listen to his wisdom on the matter of leaving Washington to him.

A frown crossed his face as that name went across his mind. Washington again. The man did have his uses and Walker had to commend him on initiative, but the soldier had a an even worse habit of going off and doing his own thing without orders or against his orders than the good Captain did. Unlike her though, he was also a genuinely annoying fellow with his sarcasm, something he was never good with dealing. The fact that he had received permission for his excursion from the Captain lessened his disapproval somewhat, but it still annoyed him.

Inhaling deeply, Walker put thoughts of the soldier out of mind for a moment as he looked up to gaze outwards at his magnificent city. The majority of Giga Arcadia's population was now awake, helping to develop the city's landscape. Other refugees less capable in building and design ported supplies and other valuable resources around, assisting whenever they could. Though the city had some ways to go yet, it wouldn't be much longer before everything was at last complete. Soon, Giga Arcadia would be a veritable heaven on earth, the grandest city in all the world...but first he had to ensure its protection and security, for there were many out there who would see its destruction. Walker's eyes narrowed coldy as he gazed off across the horizon towards the beach where that abominable frequency was coming from. How he hated Mavericks and everything they stood for.

Whether on orders or not, Washington was right in his actions, at the very least. This problem had to be dealt with swiftly and strongly. The Freelancers had kept the feral machines at bay for years now, but how much longer could they do so? Refugees continued to flock to Giga Arcadia's borders, drawn by the idea of being able to live in peace. What would he do if they believed he could no longer protect them? They adored him for keeping them safe and had no desire to rebel when he and his forces provided them with everything they needed, but that would change if something horrible happened.

He brought up a data panel as he prepared to put together a team to rendezvous with the Commander. They would go there, deal with this, and everything would be back to the usual. Keep the people safe, give them the security they so desired and they would do anything to ensure that peace remained. And as long as he appeared strong and portrayed himself as a positive leader for the people to look up to, that would remain true. He had spent five years of his life dedicating everything he had to this city, and he would not, whether by Mavericks or not, allow it all to come crashing down around him because of a little communications problem. He would make sure of that.

Walking along the forest path, a teenage boy stuck carefully to the narrow route as he made his journey towards the city on the other side of the jungle, making sure to stay away from the lush undergrowth on either side of the path as much as he could while also on the lookout for anything that could be dangerous. While Arcadia was a fairly safe region, there were more than simply Mavericks to be wary of in the tropical forests and a person could easily get lost in them if they strayed too far from the path. Sunlight trickled down from the thick canopy above him, giving the forest around him a surreal appearance that managed to simultaneously entrance him with its beauty and yet also set his subconscious nerves on edge for some reason. That reason became obvious as the boy paused and stared around the path warily, listening to the sounds of the forest around him.

To be specific, the complete lack of it.

'This is weird...the forest is way too quiet today. Not even a bird singing and this area's usually full of them,' he thought to himself, the silence so eerie that he didn't even want to speak aloud and somehow disturb it. He clutched the straps of his backpack a little tighter as he picked up his pace slightly down the path. 'I'd better be careful in case there're any Mavericks up to no good.'

With dusky-color skin and silver hair, the teenager could have easily been mistaken for just another native of these isles were it not for the telltale inverted triangle on his forehead, marking him as a reploid. His name was Grey, and he had lived in Arcadia for perhaps three months or so. Appearing roughly fifteen years old, the teen was handsome despite his young age, a pale scar marring his cheek which lent him a roguish appearance that made him seem older than he actually was. His clothing consisted of a red and white jacket that doubled as a thin hoodie, which was paired up with a matching pair of shorts that reached down to his knees. On his hands were a pair of simple dark purple gloves with yellow cuffs, and a yellow shirt was visible underneath his jacket. Underneath his clothes was a dark blue bodysuit, which contrasted well with his bright uniform. Strapped across his back was a small backpack, filled with meager belongings that would sustain him until he reached his destination.

Most curious though were the pair of red cables that extended from a red apparatus that covered his back and circled his neck, currently hidden by his jacket. Grey himself had no idea exactly what purpose it had, only that it had been with him when he had first woken up and it just didn't feel right to get rid of it (as it was removable).

'When he had first woken up.' That was a statement that accurately reflected his life, or what he could remember of it. Unlike most newcomers, Grey had come to this region entirely by mistake. His first clear memory was waking up in some sort of laboratory, surrounded by the bodies of destroyed mechaniloids and two dead soldiers of some sort and with absolutely zero memory of his past or how he even got there. His second clear memory was of a strange woman named Pandora appearing out of nowhere and calling him a 'Defective' for reasons utterly beyond him.

His third memory was when she tried to kill him.

By sheer dumb luck, he had managed to elude her and fight his way outside to escape, at least until a giant Mechaniloid had appeared on the bridge he'd gotten out onto. He'd managed to destroy it after a difficult battle with a plasma pistol he had scavenged off one of the dead soldiers beside him after Pandora made her initial threat, though the effort had nearly killed him, and the resulting explosion destroyed the bridge, sending both him and his opponent's remains tumbling into the waterfall's currents below. Washed out to sea, Grey had swam for his life, desperation and the will to live driving on and on, until he had managed to grasp onto some floating debris, a piece of metal that managed to possess enough buoyancy to float even with his body weight on it. From there, he had passed out, waking at various points with slowing frequency until he had spotted a small dot on the horizon.

Through some combination of stubborn refusal to let go, ocean currents, and more luck than a person had a right to, he had ended up landing on that island, where he had awakened in the home of some elderly human couple who'd found him a-washed on the shore. Though he had been nearly dead and badly injured, they had cared for him until his wounds had healed, treating him as if he were their own child despite having never met him. For a person who only interaction with a fellow living being up to that point had been one of nearly being killed, the gesture had meant far more to him than they realized, and after a rough start (him shouting in fear if they were going to try and kill him), he had quickly grown to love them, and they him after learning about how he'd originally gotten here.

Grey's shoulders slumped at the thought of the people he essentially considered his grandparents. As much as he wanted to stay with them for good, Arcadia was becoming too dangerous for anyone to stay outside the great city. They'd moved away from the metropolis after it underwent its mass expansion, not caring for the huge crowds or the president in charge of the city, but they didn't want Grey growing up in isolation after everything he had been through in his young life. Compared to them, his life was only beginning while their own was almost at its end. Though he had tried to encourage them to come along with him, they were adamant about spending their remaining days in the peaceful wilderness of Arcadia, Mavericks or not.

"There's nothing sadder than a person squandering his time being alone in a little shack in the middle of nowhere when he could be out experiencing all life has to offer," his grandfather had told him before sending him on his way. "We've had our fill of adventure, but now it's time for us to rest after a hard-earned journey. You, on the other hand, are much too early on life's road to be following our current example. There's more to life than just what you've seen so far. And I know you're in for a long and fruitful journey, far more exciting than our's were, at least."

'I guess I can see their point...I'm gonna miss them a lot though,' he thought sadly as he continued on his path. After several minutes, the forest cleared as the canopy overhead became more sparse, a split in the path before him proof that he was definitely one step closer to Giga Arcadia's gates. Grey's eyes were momentarily blinded as he stepped into a patch of unfiltered sunlight, and he winced as he raised a hand over his face to adjust, not a cloud in the sky to aid him. As said sight cleared, Grey turned to view his surroundings, eager to see something that wasn't just green as much as figuring out the next path to traverse, when something strange caught his eye.

"...Woah..." he breathed, gazing across the ocean horizon in the distance. He'd come a lot further than he had thought he had, the forest having concealed the sight of the southernmost beach he had washed up on but months ago. However, there was a key something about the coastline that was utterly alien to him now. Littered across the vast stretch of white sand was the most enormous wreckage Grey had ever seen. Spanning the entire length of the shore, it covered the beach entirely, massive fragments of metal that glistened in the sun. Even more of it laid partially submerged in the surf and out to sea, and no doubt even more laid under the water's surface unseen, but all of it seemed to glitter enticingly towards him. Grey hesitated, biting his lips slightly as he looked back down the path toward the city where he'd finally be safe. However, the temptation of seeing exactly what had washed ashore proved too much for him to resist.

"Stay on the path and don't stop, whatever you do," his grandmother's voice echoed in his mind. Grey smiled guiltily as he remembered her words, but he honestly didn't think stopping for a few minutes wouldn't cause any trouble. Muttering a soft apology under his breath, he quickly jumped down off the path to slide down the sandy dunes to the beach below. Within moments he had crossed the distance and was now before the scattered debris, marveling at the strange pieces littered about.

The majority of them were large and white, each considerably larger than he was. Crisscrossing their surfaces were a host of grey circuits that might have once pulsed a different color when they were activated, and a majority of the more complete ones had a large ruby-colored orb embedded within that almost appeared as an eye of sorts, glittering dully in the sunlight. Cords of thick black wires hung out from large cracks and between various pieces, looking as though they might have once been attached to one another like some chaotic jigsaw puzzle. Grey cautiously reached out to touch a piece, only to come away with black sludge all over his hand, grimacing as he did.

'Ah gross...just what is this stuff?' he thought in disgust as he quickly wiped his hand off in the sand. Moving away from the white shards, he walked further into the heart of the wreckage closer to the edge to ocean edge, gratefully rinsing his sticky hand off in the water and noticing various objects that stuck out from the rest.

First he saw the broken remnants of an mechanical arm, attached with some sort of launcher and red blade. A half-shattered guitar was sticking straight up out of the sand almost like some sort of warning. What appeared to be several green metal vines crackled with electricity as the incoming tide washed over them, causing Grey to cautiously give them a wide berth. Next was what appeared to some sort of dark-blue tail, akin to that of a giant lizard like a crocodile, except ten times that size at least. Grey actually suppressed a shudder at the sight, wondering what manner of beast had that been attached to, as well as what had managed to sever it, given the sparking and melted circuits he could see at the base indicating that there had been some sort of struggle.

As a matter of fact, he wondered exactly what all of these fragments, in addition to other he could see scattered at various points, had belonged to. It seemed like they were once parts of...Mechaniloids, though something told him these were far more advanced than the ones he had seen upon fleeing that lab. Even so, as interesting as they were he doubted he ever find out more, as they were all quite thoroughly destroyed. Again, by what he didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Next were a bunch of other fragments, much like the earlier white ones though they were slightly different in appearance. Orange in color, the circuits adorning them were much brighter and covered in golden patterns that seemed to indicate they were more ornamental in nature. However, they were very much intact compared to their counterparts, and as Grey discovered upon sliding his finger along one's edges, much sharper.

"Ow! Son of a-" he hissed, curse cut short as he clenched his fist to slow the bleeding, dropping the fragment. Shaking his head, he decided to move along, several drops of artificial blood dripping from his hand as he moved towards something in the water that caught his eye.

Had he stayed or bothered to look behind him, he would have noticed his blood slowly being absorbed into several of the fragments, especially as he briefly shook his hand and allowed some of the blood to spray outward. He also would have seen the previously dull stones begin to brighten as they absorbed the fluids he had unknowingly offered.

Coming to a stop by the object in question, Grey realized it was a piece of clothing, now wet and dirty but might have once been pristine white. More importantly, he noticed something roughly head-sided was wrapped inside. Curiosity overcoming him, he lifted it out of the water, noting with growing interest the unusually heavy load, and began to unravel the loose threads. Finally, he pulled back the sodden cloth and came face-to-face with-

"AAHHH!" he screamed, immediately dropping the literal reploid head wrapped inside back into the water. It quickly and mercifully sank, but Grey couldn't help but stare at it. Peeling synthetic skin stretched tightly over the mechanical skull, almost completely burnt off as if the person had been caught in some terrible explosion or fire, and the lower jaw was completely missing, giving it an even more monstrous look. Stringy and similarly burnt magenta hair spread out like diseased seaweed from a rock in the water, and a single red eye glared up at him even from these depths, pure hatred in its unseeing gaze.

'Definitely not taking that with me,' he immediately decided, slowly backing away from its stare yet not taking his eyes off of it. More than just disgust motivated the continued staring though: On some strange level, Grey actually felt like he should know that head from somewhere, tantalizing him almost as if he had seen it in a dream of sorts. His efforts to figure out why he felt like he should recognize a destroyed skull and his inability to look away as he did caused him to lose focus on exactly where he was going, and predictably, his left heel struck something jutting out of the wet sand, causing him to fall backwards into the water.

"Gah! W-What the-?" he muttered as he sat back up, turning to see what had tripped him. Catching a glimpse of something shiny, he quickly used his hands to dig it out, lifting his prize out of the water as he stood up, taking a good look at it. Clutched in his palm, roughly the size of his own closed fist if not slightly larger, was a sand-encrusted metallic device designed to resemble a face of sorts. Patterned red, white and black, jutting underneath its 'chin' was a short point protruding downwards, perhaps being the very thing that had tripped him in the first place. Set in the center of the formation was a bright green gemstone, paired together with a smaller set on either side almost like a pair of eyes. Grey, his annoyance giving way to growing interest, carefully cleaned it off with seawater until its surface gleamed in his hands, then slowly tossed it from hand to hand to dry it off. He marveled at both its otherworldly design and its surprising lightness, despite being obviously tough enough to survive whatever damage had created the rest of the debris around them.

"What are you supposed to be?" he murmured quietly, more to himself than the object in his hand as he pressed down gently on the gemstone across its surface top, gazing into its eyes as he did so. All the while, something stirred in the back of his mind much like with the head from earlier, as if, like before, he should know what this thing was. All of a sudden, a word seemed to just pop into his skull, and without thinking he found himself saying it aloud.

"...Biometal..."

As if a switch had been flipped, the stone's eyes suddenly glowed brightly before it emitted a sharp sound, as though it didn't like what he just did. Pulling his finger away quickly, Grey was amazed that whatever it was was still working despite what it had been through. Amazement quickly gave way to shock as the device started to rattle powerfully, almost pulling away from his grip entirely due to the sheer strength it possessed. Struggling to hold on, the teen gasped as he was literally dragged along the sands after it.

"H-Hey, calm down! What's got you upset all of a sudden?" he asked it as it tried to pull him behind one of the large white fragments jutting out of the beach, with him struggling to maintain a foothold in the sand. He got his answer as a single shot echoed in the air, startling him, quickly followed by a hail of gunfire that rained down around him, bullets pinging off the nearby fragment and the area he had just vacated. Grey nearly swore as he now followed the stone's lead with gusto and ducked behind his importune shelter, then swore for real as a bullet nearly managed to clip his leg as he tried to settle behind it, instinctively ducking his head as the gunfire concentrated on his position.

The device settled down after it had pulled him to safety, still rattling like mad in his grip as he recovered from his fright. Muttering a quiet thanks to the stone, Grey slowly peeked his head over the edge of his cover to see who or what had fired at him. His verdant green eyes widened in fear as he realized he wasn't as alone as he previously thought, for surrounding him was a small group of Mavericks, quickly closing in on their prey with brandished weapons.

Commander Washington of the Freelancers swore to himself from his hidden position back in the thick jungle undergrowth, his eyes trained on the scope of his rifle at the scene before him. The grey armored reploid was hunkered down in the trees, his scope fixated on the beach perhaps 300 meters away, specifically on the troubling development that had occurred.

When he had separated from Carolina and Church to scout ahead about the source of the disrupting signal, he hadn't known exactly what to be expecting when he got there. He assumed the signal was from some sort of wreck, or perhaps even some Maverick group gathering together. However, the sight that greeted him through his scope had been nothing like he thought: From the size of the wreckage he could see alone he could summarize it had been from a massive ship or aircraft of some sort, likely washed up from the ocean currents. He had even been tempted to head on down there and get a closer look himself, but two factors had quickly changed that.

First off, he had no idea what it even was. Well, technically that was a lie: He had a theory on what it was, but if it really was what he thought it was there was no way in hell he was going in alone. Getting close to that thing without proper recon (or at least someone to watch his back) could very well end in disaster, especially if there was something else (and if it was what he thought, there would be) lurking around the ruins.

Second, the fact that some kid, probably a civvie or someone who lived outside the city boundaries, suddenly popped up and started snooping around the place. He couldn't believe it at first, but it made sense: No way something like this would go unnoticed for very long. He thought about confronting him directly, but decided against it for the previous reason. Plus, the kid could be useful in helping to determine how dangerous the wreck was, and he'd be there to lend a bullet if something dangerous happened.

Plus, as much as he hated the idea of doing it, live bait would be the perfect way to draw any Mavericks hiding in the ruins out.

Sure enough, a few minutes in and several Mechaniloids started emerging from behind various ruins and started to close on the kid. He recognized them through his scope as Galleons, one of the most recognizable and common Mavericks in the Outlands, easily mistakable as other persons from a distance. Roughly as tall as an adult male, they were covered by thick purple plating that was especially thick around standard weak spots, making them something of a challenge for the inexperienced to take down. Through his scope, he could see their single green optic flash on their helmets as they cautiously made their way towards the civvie, who was currently examining something he found in the dirt and fatally unaware of the incoming danger.

He did a quick headcount, nine in total. Five of them carried the standard model's arsenal: One humanoid arm with dexterous fingers and a large gun grafted onto their other, dominant limb. Three other ones had what appeared to be a triangular-shaped limb in place of the gun, lacking any sort of fingers. Their purpose quickly became apparent when a green elongated diamond-shaped blade sparked into existence on each of them, spanning the whole length of the arm and slightly beyond: Galleon Assaults.

It was the ninth that worried him though. Taller and bulkier than the others, this Galleon was almost jet-black in color, its extra plating silver and even thicker. Washington immediately registered it as the boss, especially as the other Galleons seemed to part from it whenever it got close, indicating seniority. In terms of weaponry, it was armed with a larger, more powerful version of the Galleon cannon, though that bulky free arm looked like it could tear someone apart even without aid. Its optic was also a bright blue to compare with the green of the others, and it seemed to pulse brighter and darker at random intervals, as if it were communicating with it.

He glanced down at his weapon. It was a standard issue sniper rifle, capable of accuracy up to ranges of at least 650 meters. He had little doubt he could miss them at this range, and he was confident he could punch through the Galleon armor even in its thickest area if he did fire.

That big one, though, was an entirely different matter. He doubted that anything short of a shot to the optics would do anything better than make it angry, and at this angle, facing away from him towards the civvie, that was all but impossible.

He watched as the Mavericks slowly raised their weapons to open fire on the kid, who was now holding some sort of rock or something in his hands, blind to the world.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, quickly raising his rifle to draw a bead on the Galleon gunner furthest to the right. The sword guys weren't a threat, at least until they got in close. He sighted, aimed, prepared to pull the trigger-

He blinked as the Galleons suddenly seemed to pause, as if puzzled by something the kid did. Wash couldn't see exactly what he did, but he didn't hesitate, pulling the trigger.

His shot rang out as the Galleon collapsed in a heap, a hole clean through its head proof of his kill. The other four immediately started shooting, though whether it was because of shock or they thought it was the signal he didn't know. He glanced upwards to see the civvie dive behind one of those fragments in the sand as the shots fell around him, while the other four Galleons looked about in confusion. Not one to waste an advantage, he turned his sights on the next Galleon gunner and pulled the trigger.

It was just like the old days of Maverick-hunting.

Grey ducked his head back down as another shot cracked out, but not before the Galleon closest to his cover stopped shooting and fell to the sand with a hole through its head.

"Someone's out there?" he breathed out, his eyes quickly darting out to scan the area behind the Mavericks. Whoever it was though was obviously hidden from sight, and the other Mavericks seemed to realize they were sitting ducks on this open ground, as the three remaining gunners immediately stopped firing and tried to race for cover. The three bladed fighters further back raised their arms almost like shields, plasma in front of their faces and torsos and they turned to face the jungle. Only the big one, whom Grey dubbed the 'Ultra' due to its obvious superiority to the other ones, stood its ground, blue optics scanning the jungle furiously for its group's attacker.

Another shot, this time on the Ultra itself. Unlike the last two though, it merely glanced off the maverick's armor, though it raised its free hand as if to cover its eye. Slowly, almost deliberately, it raised its arm cannon towards the trees, finally settling on a spot. Slowly at first but with increasing speed, blue plasma began to gather inside the cannon mouth.

Another shot. It hit the cannon, but aside from a graze where it ricocheted, it was utterly undamaged. Three more shots rang out in quick succession, but all proved just as ineffective, even when one shot seemed to hit the inside of the cannon barrel. Finally, the Ultra fired back, and a large glob of blue plasma shot from the gun and crossed the distance to the jungle within seconds. Grey was certain he saw some faint movement just before it hit, but whatever was in the area disappeared in an explosion of fire and dust as the shot impacted. No more sniper shots sounded, and the Ultra seemed almost pleased with itself as it turned back around.

By this time, Grey shook himself out of his daze and quickly reached with his free hand into his backpack to grab his own weapon, realizing he had to do something to help whoever was fighting out there or at least use this brief respite well. His hand closed about the handle of his gun, but as he attempted to pull it out awkwardly with one hand, unwilling to let go of the device, the Ultra seemed to bark an order and the two Galleons closest to him, the gunners, rushed to intercept, no longer firing.

With a grunt, Grey managed to pull the gun free, but as he struggled to take aim the Galleons were already nearly on top of him. Grey instinctively pulled the trigger and was rewarded with the sound of three bullets firing, striking the nearest Galleon in the chest. Grey fired another burst and managed to tear a hole clean through the damaged maverick, but he was too slow to prevent the other one from grabbing his gun arm and smashing him against the fragment he had previously taken shelter behind. His back to the shard, Grey struggled against the iron grip of the robot as it attempted to force him to drop the gun. His struggles only grew more difficult as the other gunner joined in and grabbed his other arm, attempting to pry not the gun from him, but rather the metallic device he had picked up. It rattled again as Grey cried out in pain, this time as if in anger. Instinctively the reploid held on as tight as he could, sensing that if the Mavericks wanted it so badly, then he couldn't let them no matter what.

Fortunately for the teen, the Galleons lacked one major advantage he did even in this position; namely the use of two good hands. While their rifles were deadly weapons, their hands were not as nearly as well-developed as the average reploid and their fingers, while strong, lacked the dexterity which would have made restraining Grey and snatching the object a much easier job. They had only managed to force him to drop the gun, to the Ultra's growing impatience, when the crimson device suddenly glowed with an intense light. Grey himself was unharmed by the energy the object emitted, but the two Galleons were tossed into the air as if slammed by a wall of force, tumbling like ragdolls as they landed into the water with a splash.

The Galleon Assaults moved forward as if to intercept him, blades crackling dangerously, but they were interrupted as the Ultra, who had apparently grown tired of this, marched forward with an electronic snarl of fury, plasma charging in its cannon once again. Snatching up his dropped weapon, Grey crouched behind the shard and fired several bursts at the maverick, only to watch in horror as they ricocheted off just as the assault from before had. Within seconds, the Ultra completed its charge as it raised its cannon arm, and Grey barely had time to duck and roll before the charge shot smashed against the white metal, causing it to explode into even smaller pieces. The Assaults seemed to just relax and bob their heads as they watched their leader prepare to finish this, while the other two Galleons in the sea had recovered from their fall and were swimming back to shore. Grey stared and felt his shoulders slump with hopelessness as the Ultra charged another shot, then stiffened as the crimson object, the thing that had seemingly caused all of this, emitted a gentle light, flooding his body with warmth as he looked down.

"Well kid, it looks like we're in a lot of trouble. How about I give you a hand?" it said directly into his mind, causing Grey to blink in surprise. The voice was clearly masculine and sounded confident, as if it faced down odds like this on a daily basis.

"Y-You're telling me!" Grey stammered, almost certain he had gone insane. "But...who...what are you exactly? And what can you do to help?" He glanced over at the Ultra, whose cannon was almost fully charged and was slowly bringing it up to fire, as if it could sense he had nowhere else to go and wanted to drag it out. It was a feeling well-earned, because the other Galleons were slowly boxing in on him so that he'd have no way to dodge without getting right in one of their sights.

The device emitted a bright green light, enveloping Grey in its warm aura as it appeared to scan him. Apparently satisfied with whatever it found, it continued to speak, instructing Grey quickly as the Ultra tensed up for firing.

"I'm Biometal Model Z, and I need you to listen carefully. From the looks of things, you and I are compatible for transforming, so I need you to shout 'Megamerge' as loud as you can. I'll handle the rest. Do it now!" Without a moment to lose, Grey decided to trust the device's words and lifted it into the air as high as he could. The Ultra prepared to unleash its finisher as the teen shouted the word as loud as he could, the onlookers' optics flashing in something resembling fear as the words registered in their processors.

"MEGAMERGE!"

The Ultra's optics flashed as it unleashed its attack, plasma shooting straight for Grey and crossing the distance in a heartbeat, aimed directly for his chest. There was no way for it to miss at this range, and it was powerful enough to tear through any sort of body armor the teen might have been wearing and clean through him like tissue paper.

And yet it dissipated like mist as an explosion of crimson energy surrounded the reploid's body, completely obscuring him from view. From within, Model Z glowed almost like a miniature sun in Grey's grasp, responding to his command. "Biolink Established! M.E.G.A. System Online!" it called out as it dispersed into a stream of digital data.

Power unlike anything Grey had ever felt before surged through his body, circling inside his entire form as Model Z's light filled him with new strength. The digital stream of energy flowed over and across his entire body, seemingly drowning out the rest of the world. Suddenly, he felt heavier, and Grey's eyes widened as he realized his clothes were disappearing, being replaced instead with armor. Crimson armguards covered his forearms, far more protective than the threadbare hoodie he'd been wearing but seconds before. A similarly-colored jacket appeared over his torso, with a matching pair of red boots replaced his earlier shoes. His thighs were sealed over by thick black armor, white armor appearing alongside it to protect his upper thighs and groin from harm. His ear ports lengthened, sharply sweeping backwards like arrowheads as a dark visor erupted from either side to cover his eyes. As it did so, the light cleared, leaving Grey intensely focused on the situation before him.

The Galleons before him backed away in surprise. From their point of view the transformation had been all but a few seconds, yet in that time the helpless boy before them had been replaced with a warrior in red and black, his eyes hidden from view behind that visor. His short silver hair had lengthen into a long flowing mane of gold that cascaded down his back. Model Z no longer remained in his fist, but had been replaced with a long green plasma blade, shaped in the curved form of an ancient katana. Said blade crackled with power as he swung it down in front of himself, as clear a challenge to all six remaining Galleons as the small smirk on his face, unable to hide the feeling that once-impossible odds now seemed a whole lot easier.

"All right then. Let's see what you guys got."

Well, that's a wrap for now. Points to whoever can figure out where those various characters I mentioned came/got inspiration from. The name of this city, 'Giga Arcadia', I humbly provide from Kuraselache's work. Look it up, it's quite good.

And so, Grey obtains Model Z, but how will he fare in his first test of the Biometal's power? And what of the Ouroboros' remains?

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