CHAPTER THREE

Syndrome had sucessfully escaped from the prison part, now he had to find a way to get to Nomanisan. Quietly he snuck around the back of NSA, only to be confronted with a sight made him freeze. He was staring into the dark depths of a jet turbine. He broke out in a cold sweat and realised he was in a hanger of some sort. He sorted himself out and climbed up into the plane. The limp in his right leg wasn't as bad as it had been earlier, but still enough to hender him from running fast. He punched in the directions to Nomanisan Island and set the plane to autofly. The sound of bullets hitting various places of the plane made him leap into the pilot seat, and he grabbed the controls jerking the plane to the side and dodging a stream of amunition. His eyes narrowed as he heard the sound of something hitting the airplane's left wing.

The jet began to loose altitude and he jerked the nose up and pulled to the side. The plane spun into a side roll before he straightened it. He looked out the window of the cockpit to find that the roll had put out the fire on the wing, but it was still badly damaged. He wondered if it would stay intact long enough for him to reach Nomanisan. He set the plane on autopilot once more, and sat back to enjoy the long ride. At once he began to wonder about Mirage, was she still at the island? Next time you gamble, bet your own life. Her words came back to him, echoing through his mind. After that incident, would she still accept him? Was she even there anymore? Then he wondered about his own escape. It seemed odd that one of the NSA employees would try to help him escape, and that they had left his uniform and gauntlets right within his own reach. Did they want him to escape? If so, then why? The plane jerked to the left suddenly and something from behind hit him. Hard. His eyes went glossy and a twitching grin swept over his face and he fell back, slumped in the seat, eyes halfway open.

The plane dipped into a landing on the private Nomanisan airport. Immediatly upon landing, his plane was surrounded by guards, each of them heavily armed. One of them opened the jet's side door and made his way to the cockpit. He drew open the door and held his gun at ready. He let out a gasp of surprise as he took one looked at the unconcious form of Syndrome having been hit in the back of the head by a large, square brick-like piece of metal. "I don't believe it..." The guard breathed. Syndrome let out weak chuckle, and turned to the sound of the guard's voice. He held up one finger and with a lop-sided smile muttered: "Mirage?" The guard pulled him out of the plane carefully and splashed water on his face.

"Hey! What are you doing, moron!" snarled Syndrome, sputtering.

"You were unconcious."

"And how did I get that way?"

"Some metal brick hit you on the head."

Another guard snickered, "I'm surprised his hair didn't soften the blow."

"I heard that... and your fired!" Syndrome barked.

"You can't do that, you arn't in charge anymore. Mirage is." The guard retorted.

"Mirage? Is she here? Can I see her?" Syndrome asked, head still throbbing.

The first guard shrugged, "I'm not sure. We'll ask her."

Syndrome's eyes narrowed; who did she think she was anyway?

Syndrome found his way to his secret labratory under the lair. He then set to work fixing his right gauntlet, and got his spare set of aero boots. He frowned, the gauntlet was badly damaged. His blue eyes shined even in the dim light, and he grabbed a screwdriver, beginning to pry the wristguard apart. He worked hard, putting pieces back together and replacing the too far-gone parts. He even added a few more modifications in the process.

"Mirage will see you now." Came an echoing female voice from the speaker above the work table.

He put on his gauntlet and jet boots and climbed out of the underground. Mirage was standing there, her beautiful and lean figure was a shoulette against the sunset. "Syndrome?"

"Mirage? Whats going on here?" demanded Syndrome.

"You were dead... they had frozen your assets then I requested they be transfered into my care. So Nomanisan and all your money... are mine... " She explained to him.

"That is completely outrageous. I'm alive, see, look at me, touch me, anything! I want my island back! I want it all back, Mirage!" Syndrome snarled to her threateningly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that without getting too involved with the authorities. The news is just buzzing with your escape from the NSA Prison." Mirage actually had a somewhat worried look on her face, despite the fact that Syndrome was a maniac, ordered missles to be fired at an airplane with children on it, mercilessly killed superheros, and even put her own life in danger.

"Let me have control without them knowing, then."

"You don't seem to understand. Its a set up. They let you escape because they knew you would come here. This place is overrun with government spies and armies! They are trying to kill you!"

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I."

"Why didn't they just kill before?"

"I'm not sure. Anyhow, it isn't safe here. I'm sure that everyone knows of your return here by now! You have to leave!"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you crazy?"

"Yes."

Mirage turned away with a frusterated sigh. Syndrome began to limp towards the entrance to the underground labratory. He went as far back into the hideout as he could and began to mend his uniform, terrible memories flooding back to him. He was in danger, and he knew it, but he wasn't giving up easily. It was around two hours before he finally got everything back to normal, and by then he was feeling extremely hungry. He smiled, his hideout had everything. It was his second-to-last resort in case of emergency. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a can of tomato soup. He dumped it out into a pot and left it to heat. She's betrayed you, Syndrome. Mirage isn't on your side! a voice cried in his mind, and he began to wonder if he could trust anyone. For all he knew she could be showing all those government agents and what-not to his hideout right now!

He heard a quiet ping from his kitchen timer and poured the soup into a bowl. He wasn't used to doing his own meals, he usually had service before. He grabbed a spoon from down in a drawer and began to eat, well at least play with his food, picking up a spoon full and then letting it slowly drip off into the bowl. His eyes narrowed and he threw his spoon down on the table with a clang. Immediatly he sped up the stairs to above with a dark look on his face. He began using his new silenced stun ray to knock out every single person in sight. His limp began to feel better and better until he couldn't feel any pain at all. He smiled cruely, none of the ones he stunned would awake until he pressed the bright orange button on his right gauntlet.

Syndrome made his way deeper and deeper into the lair, and it grew darker and darker. He bumped into something and fell back on the ground. Mirage was sprawled opposite of him. "What are you doing here?" they asked each other at the same time, their voices echoing through the hall. "I live here, and you?" Mirage answered. Syndrome just glared at her, not answering the question. He was debating wether or not to stun her and continue down the hallway. He wondered how long it would take to stun everyone on the island, probobly hours upon hours. "Mirage, listen to me, do you have the authority to fire and send home your employees and the government people." She shook her head, "my employees, yes, but the government, well, the only way to send them back is if they know you are dead."

"Then I'll just have to pretend to be dead."

Mirage smiled, Syndrome's plan was a good one. He would knock himself out with his stun ray, and she would tell the government that he was dead. Syndrome had told her which button to press to revive himself. She would then fire everyone, and Syndrome and her would have the island to themselves. Syndrome follow behind her as they walked down the hall, he had fake blood smeered on his chest (Mirage had assured him that it would come out of his suit.) She carried a high-powered gun so it would look like she had shot him. They reached the main core of the lair and Syndrome stunned himself, falling back onto the floor in a crumpled heap. Mirage was surprised, it looked so real. She fired a blank and the enormous sound echoed down the hallways.

Immediatly, patrol upon patrol of guards came swarming into the core, mixed in with them were many goverment agents and members of the army. They all had amazed expressions on their faces. Finally, one of the government agents (who looked to be in charge of them all) walked up to Mirage and patted her lightly on the back. "Good work, Mirage, good work. All right, lets pack up and move out. Can you handle everything with the body, Mirage?" She nodded quietly and waited until they were gone before pressing the orange button. Syndrome shook himself as he slowly recovered. "Did it work?" he asked her. She smiled and helped him to his feet, "like a charm."

"I'll hideout unitl we're sure that all of them are gone. In the meantime, Mirage, began firing all employees." Syndrome's cape whisked behind him as he stalked quietly down a barely lit hallway. Mirage sighed and shook her head, going off to do as he had ordered. She didn't know why she had helped him do any of this. Maybe its because... she loved him?