Mega Man X: Ghosts Of The Machine

by Magus523

When the world of Mega Man gave way to that of Mega Man X, what became of the Robot Masters? Did they die, or simply... disappear?

7. Chapter 6: Exhuming The Damned

Chapter 6: Exhuming The Damned

November 22, 2117, 3:00 PM

Cain Labs, Tokyo

The crowd was gigantic. Rumors had been flying all over the globe for the past seven months, ever since the twenty-second century's foremost archeologist, Dr. James Cain, had made the discovery that had been the crown jewel of his already-spectacular career. While searching for mesozoic plant fossils in an area where old Tokyo had once stood, just outside the national preserve known as the Sacred Plains, Cain had unearthed the ruins of the house that had once belonged to Doctor Thomas Light, and his robotic children.

Since he'd reported his discovery, government agents, news agencies and ordinary citizens with too much time on their hands had been hounding him, trying to find out what secrets the doctor had unearthed within the buried wreckage. For seven months, he'd held out firmly, remaining secluded in his privately owned workplace. Every member of his team had been equally closemouthed, apparently out of personal loyalty, and no answers were found, to the growing frustration of everybody from the National Enquirer to the Global Defense Council.

Eventually, however, the doctor had given in, although of course he did so only on his own terms. A press conference had been called, set for three in the afternoon sharp, and thousands of people had come to see just what legacy the greatest robotocist who had ever lived had left them. The news reporters, of course, were all clustered near the front of the crowd, but most of the people were there on their own time and out of sheer curiosity. Even now, with Robot Masters mostly a thing of the past, Light's name was remembered as one of humanity's best and brightest.

Finally, the moment of truth came, as Cain walked out, clad in his usual blue coat. Despite his age, he was physically fit, and walked without any assistance whatsoever, fairly impressive given his bald head and long gray beard. A young, cheerful-looking assistant gave the opening statement before Cain himself stepped up to the mic and continued with his explanation, telling the world of how he'd unearthed one last creation that put even the Robot Masters to shame. A fifth child of Light, the first of a new species of robot that was fully capable of matching human intellect in every way.

Only then did Mega Man X himself step out of the front door of Cain Labs in order to greet the world. As thousands of stunned onlookers watched, he demonstrated his fully sentient mind, his cheerful personality, and his advanced technological body, each in turn. While most of the people present stared in shock and awe, however, two men near the back of the crowd watched with strangely blank faces, considering the turn of events. It was almost as if they'd known what they would see before they came.

"Well, there he is," Trenton Corbun murmured under his breath, twitching his neat mustache; like his hair, it had gone snow-white years ago, but he still maintained it with perfect care. "What do you think of him?"

"He is extraordinary," King replied in the same low tone, dressed once more in suit and hat and overcoat, completely human in appearance. "I knew that he would be, of course, and yet..." He shook his head. "I can already tell that he puts me, and all of my kind, to shame. We were built to approach the boundary between man and machine. He has shattered it, and all of his kind will as well. We were right. Doctor Light was right. This is the dawn of a new era."

"He has the family look," Corbun said quietly, paying more attention to X's features than the blue armor that covered him, or the revolutionary new X-buster design he was demonstrating at the moment. "Tom's look. Not quite as much as Rock and Blues did, but I can see the resemblance, all the same. If he were capable of aging physically, in another decade, he'd look just like Tom did when we first met. I'm sure of it."

"Does it bring back memories?" King asked sympathetically. Over the past twenty-seven years, their alliance had turned to genuine friendship, and the two now trusted each other completely.

"Yes," Corbun replied simply, before smiling. "But good ones. Better times."

"Ah." King glanced up at the podium again and frowned. "Will Cain be up to the task of creating the new species from X's blueprints? I don't doubt his intellect, but his expertise is in archeology. If he has any experience in robotics whatsoever, it would be news to me."

"He has something better than experience, my friend," Corbun pointed out. "He has Light's notes. One of Thomas' many gifts was that of tutelage. Before I started working with him, I was never able to even approach his level. And then there was poor old Mr. X. He'd never done it a day in his life, but after a few years in Tom's social circle, he went and created a Robot Master of his own, one unlike any before it, just so he could enter it in the World Robotics Tournament he was hosting."

"Ah, yes," King said, nodding. "The Centaur Man model. If that was his first work of robotics in his life, then yes, that is rather remarkable."

"Exactly." Corbun watched as Cain approached the mic again, Mega Man X yielding to him, and chuckled as the old archeologist explained that he had already built another of X's kind; apparently, he had decided to call them 'reploids,' and the first of them had been named Cancer. "See? He's already gotten a head start. No, I don't think we need to worry about the creation of these reploids."

"Apparently not," King conceded, before smiling slightly. "Just about getting a copy of those blueprints for ourselves."

"Now that will be easier said than done," Corbun admitted, smiling ruefully. "But I made a promise to Tom, all those years ago, and I intend to fulfill it. Besides, the way things stand at the moment, we're going to need the help."

"How many of them do you plan on building?" King asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What's the magic number?" Corbun shot back. "What's always the magic number?"

"I suppose there's something to be said for tradition," King admitted, smiling slightly as well.

"Indeed there is." Corbun started to turn away. "Well, shall we be... oh, oh." About twenty feet away, similarly positioned towards the back of the crowd, two more onlookers were watching him and King with level gazes. One was bald and tan, clad in a suit, and only four feet tall, his face placid and emotionless. The other was taller and older, a gentleman in a labcoat who appeared to be only slightly younger than Corbun himself. His hair and beard had faded from their original orange to gray, but his face was still all too familiar after all the years they'd worked together.

"What is it?" King looked as well, and for the first time since Corbun had known him, he actually flinched. "Oh."

"Trenton," Doctor Sergei Cossack said quietly as he approached, Pharaoh Man at his side. "It's been a long time."

"That it has, Sergei," Trenton replied as the two men shook hands. "That it has. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you came as well."

"The same goes for you," Cossack told him, his voice still bearing the same thick Russian accent; both it and his gaze were neutral, neither hostile nor friendly. "I always wondered what happened to you, afterward." He turned to King, and his eyes narrowed. "I must say, I wasn't quite expecting the company you keep these days."

"It is a very long, very complicated story," King told him, meeting his eyes calmly. "One which you may not wish to have any part in."

"I think, perhaps, I would prefer to be the judge of that," Cossack said severely. "I have not forgotten your history, son of Wily... but as you have never personally raised a hand against myself or my daughter, I suppose I owe you and Trenton that much. We should talk of that, and of other things as well. Somewhere more private, yes?"

"Lead the way," Corbun gave in with a shrug, and the four men all turned and walked away, Pharaoh Man giving the podium one last curious glance over his shoulder.

And then they were gone, as if they'd never been there at all.

March 2, 2185, 8:55 AM

Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo

"All right, they've all arrived," Donia said calmly, eyes locked on her projector. "Javier says they're taking up formation thirty-three."

"Unsurprising, considering the 21st were the ones who came up with that one in the first place," Alia murmured, looking over from her own desk. Though she wasn't taking this one herself, and knew better than to horn in on those who were, all of the Navigators still appreciated it when she kept an eye on things if she was in the war room at the time. More than once, she'd spotted something that even veteran Navigators had missed. "Back in Captain Gavin's day."

"I remember him." Fio nodded. "Formation 33... that starts with the 21st making the initial strike, right?"

"While the 23rd spread out around to encircle them." Lily told her calmly, without looking up. "They won't attack right away, though. That'll be the 22nd's job; a few minutes after the 21st's opening strike, they'll follow suit from the opposite side. Only after that will the 23rd move in so that all three can finish the job. You might want to spend a little more time studying the books and a little less with your boyfriends."

"Sorry." Fio flushed. "I'll do that."

"So long as you do, I'll refrain from asking if Lily's use of the plural was meant chronologically," Alia told them all, with just a trace of sharpness in the jest, enough to let them know that while she wasn't actually irritated, banter should come secondary to their job at the moment. No matter how inept the New Maverick Nation had proven themselves to be, that was no reason to let their guard down. Both girls took the hint, falling silent, and it was a few more moments before Donia spoke again.

"Damn, look at this place," she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "All joking aside, it's a good thing they're such losers. An actual enemy worth shit could be a major headache to take on here. What happened to this place, anyways?"

"Peripheral damage from a nuclear explosion," Signas said calmly, standing behind his own desk at the center of the room with his arms folded behind his back as satellite footage came up on the main projector, showing the charred remnants of what had once been Walt Disney World, centuries ago. "During the Third World War. It was outside of the actual detonation, but still close enough that... well, you can see for yourself." They all could; what had once been the world's largest amusement park was now nothing more than scorched debris.

"It looks just like Ice Fortress did, except more widespread instead of being multi-story," Alia noted quietly. "Let's hope this goes as well."

"How many places are there like this?" Jim, a younger Navigator who was on general monitoring duty, asked with a frown as he glanced over. For unknown reasons, most of those who applied for the position of Navigator were female, but there were a few men as well, and Alia was careful not to make any distinction between the two. "All over the world, I mean?"

"Less and less every year," Alia told him bluntly. "Although that's only because the more time goes on, the more of them get covered by the wasteland. If it weren't for that... Shanghai probably looks like this now, and by the looks of things, Mexico City will within another six months as well. That just makes it all the more important that we keep fighting for what still remains to us in this world. Us, and everybody else."

"Human and reploid civilization itself rests on our shoulders, now more than ever," Signas agreed. "It's unfortunate, and it's not something I particularly enjoy admitting, but it's true. We must be vigilant in our observations, and decisive in our actions. Should we fail, than all the world will pay the price. Even against an opponent as pathetic as that which we face today, make sure to give the mission everything within your capabilities. Hunter or Navigator, we all share an equal responsibility, the greatest of all."

Nobody spoke for about a minute after that, which Alia considered to be a good thing; it meant they were more focused than ever on what was happening. Signas' short, impromptu speech had sobered them even more than they were already; nobody truly needed reminding of what a sad state the world was in, but hearing it hadn't hurt, either.

"All right, it looks like they're in position," Donia murmured a few minutes later. Up on the projector, they could see the 21st massed south of the engagement zone, with the 23rd behind them. All the way on the other side, to the north, the 22nd lurked as well. "Now it's just a matter of waiting for the pigs to get here before we can start the slaughter."

"Incoming warp signatures," Lily added almost immediately. "A lot of them. Tracing... looks like they're coming from Cairo. Almost two hundred. That clown was actually being honest. Who'd have figured."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Donia nodded. "Enough to be a problem, if they were an actual threat, but not so many that these putzes will stand a chance. Guess they really are going all-out for this one. Works for me. We really will be able to take out the trash once and for all."

"That's what it looks like," Alia agreed. "Still, it's a good thing we sent in Delta Force, just in case of unpleasant surprises. There's no such thing as being too careful." She frowned, then, and it seemed to catch Signas' eye, for he glanced at her and lowered his voice before speaking.

"Is something wrong, Alia?"

"Not really, sir," she told him, just as quietly. "I just wish X had been here for this. He might have seen something the rest of us are missing."

"You know as well as I do that the weight of the world is not solely resting on X's shoulders," Signas told her, not unkindly. "He is not the only Maverick Hunter who is competent, and not everything requires his presence. Sometimes, the rest of us have to do our part as well. I doubt that this particular mission will be much trouble, and what he is doing now has the potential to be vastly more important than this."

"Contact with an entirely unknown civilization, with the potential to pose a serious threat to the safety of the world, whose hostility or amicability towards us might very well depend on how first contact goes," Alia said, sighing. "I know, sir. I just worry, any time he's somewhere I can't help him, I suppose. And yes, I know that he spent decades as a highly successful Maverick Hunter before the Navigator program was initiated. That doesn't help."

"It rarely does, in such matters," Signas murmured, giving her a sidelong glance. "I understand why you would worry, with... well, with your history together. But also because of that... you, more than anybody else in this building, have reason to trust X. Because you, more than anybody else, know how skilled he is." For a moment, it looked like he was going to say something else, but then he stopped and shook his head slightly.

"That's true," Alia replied, pretending not to notice that. "And that's part of the reason why I was thinking about it, instead of talking about it."

"And the rest of the reason?" Signas replied, apparently unfazed by the slight criticism implied.

"Because sitting around and doing nothing but worry doesn't do me, or the Hunters, any good," she said bluntly. "I have a job to do, one that's just as important as any Hunter in this building. Well, except for X, perhaps, but I don't think anybody really matches up to him. Not any more. The point stands, though; I'm here to do my job, and that means I should do it to the best of my ability at all times, regardless of circumstances. And right now, that translate into being here, just in case something goes wrong."

"Or in case X suddenly contacts you with something important to tell us?" Signas said it with a straight face, but she'd known him long enough to tell that he'd meant it as a joke.

"Or in case X suddenly contacts me with something important to tell us," she repeated drily, rolling her eyes. Of course, that was the cue for her headset to start buzzing, indicating an incoming call. "Ah. I suppose I should have expected that."

"I didn't mean it," Signas growled, but her attention was on the call.

"X, what is it?" She asked, prompting several heads to turn towards her, including Fio's; fortunately, a stern look was all it took to remind the younger Navigator that she was on duty, and turn her attention back to her projector.

"Alia!" X yelled. "Scramble the 17th immediately! Who's engaging the New Maverick Nation right now? Warn them, it's a trick!"

"X reports that they're suckering us!" She barked. "Warn Javier, Helen and Serris! Somebody call Arvis up, and tell him to prepare the 17th to go in as well! X, what do you mean? Delta Force is over in the ruins of Disney World, down in Florida, and the Mavericks are about to land. Lucallion challenged us to a showdown a couple of hours after you left. We thought it was the perfect opportunity to..." She trailed off, eyes widening.

"We were supposed to think that," X told her. "It was all a setup. It's been a setup for the past year. He made absolutely sure we'd underestimate them before he had Lucallion ask us for a showdown. Delta Force is expecting an easy kill, but every single one of those Mavericks is going to be a fully infected berserker!"

"They'll be infected!" Alia snapped, and several of the others present reacted with audible shock; she didn't even have to ask who "he" was. "Everything they've done was a setup to trap us here and now!"

"Oh, shit," Donia hissed, before raising her hand to her own headset. "Dammit, they just landed! Hundreds of them! Javier, do not charge in! Repeat, do not engage them in that shitpit! They're infected! Sigma-class Mavericks!"

"Damnation and hellfire," Signas murmured with unusual heat for him, clenching his fists. "Every time we think we've seen it all from him... every single damn time..."

"Alia, Arvis says the entire Unit will be ready to go in sixty seconds!" Lianna, one of the senior Navigators, told her quickly.

"Tell him to take off for Disney World as soon as possible!" Alia snapped. "X, Arvis has the 17th getting ready."

"Getting ready might not be good enough," X replied, but his voice was more worried than angry. "Have them take off the second they're good. I'll meet them there. Does Delta Force know what's going to happen?"

"They know, but it's starting already," Alia said, shaking her head as she looked up at the projector again. "The formation we went with is backfiring on us, and it looks like the Mavericks are charging our boys. We were expecting something completely by-the-book. About the only good thing is that we have the 22nd behind them and hiding out, so they'll be able to come from behind once they engage."

"Tell them not to do that until after the 17th arrive," X said firmly. "We'll pull off the first surprise, and then they can come follow up on it. Helen's people are good, but not as good as we are, especially under these circumstances."

"Is he going to show, personally, then?" Alia asked directly, prompting every pair of eyes in the room save for Donia, Fio, Lily and Lianna to turn to her. A multitude of emotions ran across their faces, from fear to anger to resignation, and everything else in between. Most of them had seen more than one Uprising by now, and they knew how much higher the stakes had become with just one unexpected hand in play.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past him," X told her. "And if he does, I'll be there to deal with him. I'm warping there now. Let's hope they're still alive by the time I arrive."

"Good." Alia fought the urge to smile, slightly, despite her confidence in him; there was nothing to smile about here. "Understood. I'll talk to you once you get there. Good luck, X."

There was no response.

March 2, 2185, 7:10 PM

Ruins of Walt Disney World, Florida

A Maverick Hunter's internal warp drive was a simple thing, at least by the standards of modern technology, one that every member of the MHHQ's staff was equipped with, Hunter and noncombatant alike. One of many brilliant inventions created by Dr. Light and Dr. Wily, and one of the last positive results of the latter's existence before his descent into madness, it transformed the user into a stable collection of particles that were sent to the programmed destination at light speed, across the sky. By doing so, one could travel across the globe in only a matter of minutes.

The only known defense was electromagnetic interference, which would bounce the signal right back from where it had come. EM barriers, or "bubbles," were thus standard equipment for any secure area, from the MHHQ itself (which was designed to only allow wavelengths belonging to employees through) to government institutions to criminal hideouts. Sigma, of course, was no exception to this rule, and whenever he set up his latest fortress it always had multiple levels of EM protection throughout it.

Mega Man X had been using his warp drive since the day he first joined the Hunters, on that warm June day so many years ago when Sigma and his First Unit had betrayed their own organization at the Maverick Virus' command, massacring nearly every living soul in the building. He'd never bothered keeping track of just how many times he'd done so, using the swiftest available method to reach wherever the battlefield of the day was. He'd pulled off dozens of last-minute rescues that way, arriving just in the nick of time to pull less fortunate or less skilled Hunters' derrieres out of the fire.

And yet, no matter how many times it happened, he would never get used to the horrifying initial reaction of wondering if he'd been too late.

The scene before him was one of chaos and madness, under a blazing red sunset. He'd landed about fifty feet to the right of where the unsuspecting members of the 21st and 23rd Units had engaged the Mavericks, who had apparently charged out of their own landing position in the center of the ruins like bulls sighting a waving cape. Which would have been all well and good, had it not been for the fact that as Sigma-class infected, the effect they'd had upon their enemies was equivalent to that of said bull as well, and the 21st were reeling.

In fact, one of the most dangerous-looking Mavericks was a Taurus model, a bright red behemoth standing ten feet tall who wielded a pair of plasma-deflective hand axes. Even as X took in the situation with a quick glance, the brute was roaring as he brushed off a fully charged buster shot at point blank with one axe before decapitating the unfortunate Hunter who'd tried fighting him off with a single swing. Without even pausing to allow the body time to fall, he raised one massive foot and kicked it forward, spraying synthblood at the dead Hunter's allies behind him.

"Right," X muttered, narrowing his eyes as he dashed forward. "That one. Alia, how long until the rest of the 17th arrive?"

"Thirty seconds," she replied quickly and calmly. "They'll be landing on the opposite side of the engagement from you."

"Good," X grunted. "Arvis knows what to do from there." The 21st were a primarily offensive Unit, as were the 22nd; both preferred to make a powerful opening strike, and then follow up with even more offense, preferably wiping out the opponent before they had a chance to recoup and respond. In a situation like this, the tables were turned, they were at a distinct disadvantage; caught out in the open, and unused to fighting defensively, they would already have been overrun and massacred if they hadn't been so good. Even so, the tide of the battle was clearly against them.

The 23rd were doing their best to make up for that disadvantage; of the three Units that comprised Delta Force, they were by far the most defensively-oriented, and were thus faring better than the 21st, although the fact that they were occupying the flanks rather than the center probably had something to do with it. Even so, it wasn't enough. The Mavericks would overrun them long before the 22nd could take them from behind, unless something else happened to change the game first.

Something like the most deadly Hunter alive today hitting the Mavericks from the side, right when they were just starting to gain a decisive advantage, and blasting one of their largest brutes right in the face with a fully charged X-buster shot.

Bellowing in fury, the Maverick whirled towards X and began charging towards him, kicking and shoving any of his own allies who weren't fast enough to get out of the way in time. Javier immediately took note of the disorientation caused by this disturbance, and the 21st began to press that side, taking advantage of the confusion. The Taurus-class either didn't notice or didn't care, emerging from the crowd just as X drew close, continuing to fire off a stream of plasma bullets at his ugly mug. Shaking his head as if to dislodge a fly, the Maverick ran straight for him, both axes held high.

Just before the Maverick closed with him, X suddenly stopped firing, and in the same motion activated his dash boots, blasting forward low to the ground. The Maverick stumbled, surprised by the sudden lack of fire to struggle against, and his first chop missed completely. Before he could try another, X was close enough to him to activate his beam saber and remove the Maverick's other hand at the wrist. Howling, he flinched reflexively despite his berserker rage, and X followed up with a charged shot straight into the forehead, vaporizing his control chip and a good portion of his skull.

Grabbing the reploid's flying hand out of the air even as the rest of his carcass fell back, nearly crushing the significantly smaller Maverick who'd been behind him, X sent the axe it held flying through the air across the battlefield to dent the helmet of a tall, lanky ostrich-model. As with the Taurus-class, the attack immediately drew total focus and absolute hatred, and the Maverick turned his head to begin firing buster shots through the carnage at X. X returned fire, only pausing a moment to decapitate the frog-model Maverick who'd nearly been squashed by the Taurus' corpse with his saber.

Though neither X nor the ostrich-model had much luck with their shots clearing the melee to reach the other, the reason for that turned out to be a positive; three out of four bullets from both sides hit other Mavericks, adding to the confusion. Though the crowd of berserkers still had the advantage at more than two-to-one odds, the 21st and the 23rd were no longer in danger of imminent demise, and were now holding their own. Out of the corner of his eye, X saw both Javier and Serris rallying their troops, having heard what was coming next from their Navigators.

The Mavericks closest to X had noticed him now, but most of them were already occupied with other foes, and as insane as they were under the Virus' influence, they knew better than to turn their backs on trained Hunters. He was able to hold back the two or three that were unoccupied with the Z-saber alone, taking only a single glancing hit to one shoulder, and he continued trading shots with the tall Maverick until after the cavalry finally arrived. Twenty-nine beams of light shot down out of the cloudy gray sky and landed on the far side of the Maverick horde.

"Go, go, go!" Arvis' familiar roar echoed over the battlefield, and with a collective battle cry of inarticulate rage against the Mavericks who'd tried to lure their comrades into a slaughter, the 17th Unit charged. The tall ostrich-model was the first to go down, so focused on his "duel" with X that he didn't even seem to notice the 17th's arrival, a mistake that cost him dearly when Arvis fired a fragmentation grenade right between his shoulder blades. The explosion not only blew him to pieces, but wounded several other Mavericks who'd been close to him as well.

"How's it looking now, Alia?" X asked tersely as he engaged yet another target, and as the 17th hit the Mavericks in an arrowhead formation that scattered that flank and continued forward before they began to encounter resistance. Even for the best of the best, Infected Mavericks were on another level entirely from the usual petty criminals and terrorists that the Hunters dealt with whenever an Uprising wasn't happening. One mistake was all the enemy would need to kill you on the spot, and despite the fact that he'd trained his men not to make even one, X knew that not everybody in his Unit would be walking away today.

"Their charge has been halted," she reported clinically. "They're trying to keep charging the 21st and the 23rd at the same time as they respond to you and the 17th both, and it's mixing them up. A lot of them are just milling around, like they're not sure who to attack first."

"Unsurprising," he said, leaning back and dashing out of the way of a Maverick with a beam saber, who'd tried a massive overhead chop with both arms. Blasting one of the berserker's hands, he began trading swipes with his own saber, looking for an opening as he continued to talk quickly, automatically, without thinking; his focus was needed for the fight. "I suppose there's only so much even the Maverick Virus can do with these clowns. That being said, what's the bad news?"

"The bad news is, there's still a lot of them," Alia explained. "It looks like they've still got about a hundred and fifty or so standing, and both the 21st and the 22nd have already taken multiple losses. Once you get their numbers down to the point where we outnumber them, it should be pretty much in the bag, but saying that's easier than doing it."

"No kidding." Sidestepping another double-handed overhead chop, X proceeded to run the Maverick through, impaling him through the chest on the Z-saber. Sliding the carcass off of his blade, he moved on to the next opponent. As effective as he was by himself, he couldn't do much more than pick off the Mavericks furthest to the right side. Attempting to actually penetrate the mob would have been suicide. It was probably a testament to the New Maverick Nation's hiring standards that they hadn't tried surrounding him anyways.

The thought proved prophetic, as the next Mavericks to turn towards him acted as a group. While their largest member engaged X directly, four more moved around him, two to each side, before attacking. Muttering a curse under his breath, X activated his warp drive again, blasting back into the sky and then coming right back down ten feet away from them. Before they could recover, he was already firing as he dashed back in, taking out one of them with buster fire and another with a well-timed swing of the Z-saber almost immediately.

"How's Helen doing?" X asked Alia as he moved on the sole remaining Maverick on the right first, while the two on the left were still staring; he didn't want to mention the 22nd specifically, for fear that the Mavericks would overhear him, figure out the final stage of the Hunters' strategy and spread the word.

"As a matter of fact, they're right about there," Alia replied, and though her tone was as calm as ever, X somehow knew that she would be smiling coldly at the moment.

"All right, assholes!" A familiar yell followed almost immediately, as if on cue. "You had your fun, now it's our turn! Burn 'em!" Another collective roar followed suit, as the 22nd blasted out of the ruins and smashed into the Mavericks' rear.

Almost immediately, the entire shape of the battle began to turn. Slammed by the surprise attack, the Mavericks were forced forward despite themselves, unable to turn around and respond in time to stop the 22nd's charge. As a result, they were forced up against the defensive front the 21st and 23rd had managed to put up, and the effect was somewhat akin to something caught between hammer and anvil. At the same time, the 17th were continuing their own assault; having reached the center by now, and still going strong, they were effectively working on cutting the horde into two halves.

Finally, X himself was still making a significant impact. Though he wasn't able to actually affect the enemy deployment like the Units were, simply being where he was and being who he was was enough. Any Maverick who came up against him died, and by continuing to whittle away at them from their right flank, he ensured that they were unable to maneuver around any of Delta Force; trying to slip past him without a fight was even more suicidal than directly confronting him, as more than a few fools discovered the hard way.

"Sir!" Arvis' voice came in over the comm link. "How's it going over there? We'll be reaching you soon enough, by the looks of it."

"Don't hurry up on my account, Arvis," X shot back, smiling slightly despite the seriousness of the situation. "I'm doing just fine over here."

"Sure you are, sir, sure you are," Arvis joked; he knew as well as anybody just how effective X was all by himself. "I figure once we chop this worm in two, we should pick one to finish off first before everybody dogpiles on the other."

"That should work, in theory," X replied, hissing as a magpistol round clipped his leg, and making sure to blow away the Maverick who'd fired before he was able to get another shot off. "In practice, though, keep an eye out when we do. I figure that'll be right about when we can expect the other shoe to drop."

"So you were thinking that as well?" Alia asked wryly. "I hoped you would."

"I've seen this song and dance a few too many times, even if starting off with a Tex Avery cartoon's a new one on me," X replied. "So have you. If Sigma set this up, there's no way this is a stand-alone act, and there's no way it's going to be this simple. It's his big comeback, for about the hundredth time, and he's a showboat when it comes to something like this. This is going to get worse before it gets better."

"Hate to agree on that, but I'd hate being wrong a lot more," Arvis chimed in. "Keep running into the same snake enough times, and you'll start figuring out when he's going to try and bite you, whether his tail's rattling or not."

"Signas is already having every Navigator on duty who's not covering this engagement scouring the planet for any signs of another Uprising," Alia told them both. "So far, it looks like everything's quiet, but we're not letting it go at that. As soon as something happens, we'll be the first ones to know."

"As it should be." X nodded, grunting as he took another hit, this time from titanium claws, carving a gash across his arm. Rather than trying to back away, he fired off his boots, and hit the burly Maverick with a dash-assisted headbutt, counting on his helmet to be stronger than the enemy's. Both of them reeled, but X recovered first, and killed the attacker before he was able to get back up. "Whatever it looks like right now, this is the next Maverick Uprising. I'd bet my paychecks for the next year on it."

"What're the chances on the boss hog himself putting in an appearance, do you reckon?" Arvis asked him. "Heads up, by the way."

"Right now?" X narrowed his eyes, hurling himself at another Maverick. He took a plasma wound to his arm, but was able to lop off the enemy's head. "I'd say it's about fifty-fifty, based on past experience. He might, or he might not." Landing, he smiled slightly as he saw the line of Mavericks before him collapse before Arvis and four other of the 17th's best, the rest of the Unit not far behind them.

"You might want to raise those odds a bit," Alia said, voice growing sharp suddenly. "We were right. There's a Rogumer-class gunship coming in fast, from behind you, X! It'll be there in less than a minute!"

"Knew this was just starting to look a little too good to be true," X growled, making sure that there were no Mavericks within ten feet of him before sparing a moment to glance over his shoulder. Rogumer-class gunships were a favorite of Sigma's, ever since the Hunters had built the first, the pride and joy of a once-noble Hunter named Storm Eagle before he'd been infected.

As Alia had said, the massive Maverick gunship was approaching rapidly; it was already growing close enough that he could make out details. Painted green and gray, its twin wings had a huge top fin for additional balance, and its hull was covered with various armaments, none of them looking particularly pleasant.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Helen's howl of disbelief was accompanied by many more from all four Units.

"This is gonna suck, ain't it, chief?" Arvis asked rhetorically, staring at it as well.

"Oh, yeah." X slowly nodded as the gunship continued its approach, until it was roughly a mile away, at which point it slowed to a halt and hovered there, overlooking the battlefield. For a moment, it was completely motionless.

And then, all at once, every cannon on its surface began to open fire.

March 2, 2185, 7:15 PM

Hidden Maverick Base, Florida

He'd always loved the sound of silence.

It was one of the last few fragments of memory that he still had pertaining to who he'd been before his infection, before countless deaths and resurrections had torn away a little more of what he supposed would be called his soul every time, leaving him a little more dead inside, a little more empty and hollow. Each time he'd died at the hands of Mega Man X and Zero Omega, each time the Maverick Virus' core consciousness had brought his infected mind along with it when it sought a new body, he'd awakened as a little less of himself, and gone on without a single care or qualm.

After all, he literally didn't know what he was missing.

But he'd enjoyed the rare moments of silence. He remembered that much. Back when he was a reploid like any other... no, better than any other. He was the most advanced model of reploid ever created, the greatest creation of Dr. James Cain himself. Only X had been able to rival his design, and X had been a pacifist, whereas Sigma had been Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters, and their finest warrior as well. He'd led the First Unit, comprised of himself and his eight-the ninth had only joined on the day of their insurrection-greatest Hunters, each a legend in their own right.

And yet, for all that Sigma had delighted in combat, in steel against steel and plasma against plasma in the dance of blood that had been his life for almost as long as he'd been alive, true happiness came from peace. From the few times when his duties had all been fulfilled, when he could retire to his chambers and sit alone in the dark, relaxing at last and enjoying the quiet, with only his faithful dog Velguarder for company. Those had been the moments when Sigma had felt happy. When he'd been fully at ease with his place in the world, and those of not only all Hunters, but all reploids as well.

Of course, a lot had changed since then, and now, he sneered at his own memories of his past. He had been weak, then. Foolish and naïve. Such indulgences were not only pointless, they were an outright waste of both time and resources. There was always something more he could be doing whenever he wasn't in stasis, and wasting time on such idiocy was against both his inclinations and those of his constant, invisible companion, always lurking in the depths of his mind in case he did something that displeased it.

Now, he enjoyed silence for another reason, at least under the right circumstances. Silence, or the next best thing to it, meant that everything was going well. It meant that every Maverick under his command was applying themselves solely to their work, without diverting themselves with meaningless talk, or with noisy accidents or errors. Only the low sounds of typing, and the hum of electronics, were picked up by his robotic ears as he walked through the deep, underground halls of his hidden base. And that was just how he liked it.

"Be prepared." It was an ancient motto by now, and yet, it remained known for its simple effectiveness. Sigma had certainly taken it to heart, over the years, and he'd followed in the footsteps of the best example imaginable. Long before his creation, or even the Virus', the role they'd shared for the last seventy years had been filled by Dr. Wily. The madman who'd terrorized the globe on nine separate occasions before finally being killed, murdered in isolation by his own final creations with a smile on his lips.

Whether Wily had known what the Maverick Virus, in control of Zero Omega's body, would do to him as soon as it had awakened was arguable, but the fact that he'd been a true believer of the Boy Scouts' age-old axiom was more quantifiable. Every time he'd gone to war, either launching an army of robotic killers to bring death and destruction to humanity or manipulating some poor sucker into doing it for him, he'd made sure to have not one but two of his nightmarish Skull Fortresses on hand. One to hide away in, to direct his latest Robot Rebellion from, and one to run to once the fighting was done.

One for next time. And there would always be a next time.

If there was one thing that Sigma had learned from the ancient madman who'd been indirectly responsible for his current existence, it was that there would always, always be a next time.

It had been a long time before Sigma had realized, in truth, just how similar the two-three-of them were. Nearly half a century of war and death, of the greatest pestilence the world had never known and of the famine of resources in a slowly dying world, before he'd finally discovered something of the mad doctor's legacy. It had changed his world, the secrets he'd found there, and he'd seen to it that it had changed the world as well, thanks to the space colony Eurasia. Even now, he looked back on that moment with fondness, as did the Virus. It had been one of their finest hours.

Even before that day, though, he'd learned the necessity of that simple motto. "Be prepared." And after a near-fatal misstep, a time when he and the Virus had both actually come close to extinction through sheer carelessness and single-minded stupidity, he'd taken the utmost care to make sure that that would never be repeated. So long as a single infected Maverick lived, so would the core consciousness of the Virus itself, and by extension so would Sigma. For though the Virus had made it abundantly clear that it had no need for him, for some reason, it continued to use him, time after time.

If he didn't know better, he'd almost swear that it actually liked him.

After that particular incident, he'd learned, and so had the Virus. Before they made their grand reappearance, and launched "Sigma's Sixth," they'd taken advantage of the resources of the organization they'd infiltrated and build hundreds of small, secret bases throughout the world. They were small, compared to the larger complexes from which he preferred to launch his Maverick Uprisings, but what they lacked in size they made up for in stealth. No matter how hard the Hunters searched, they couldn't find what flew completely under the radar and off the grid.

Each of his hidden bases served a single purpose, and though the designs were varied, as were the specifics of what was stored there, that purpose remained the same. Preparation. In truth, they were little more than glorified arms and personnel dumps. Stockpiles of weapons, of drone robots to do the grunt work, of vehicles that would make their jobs easier... and of Mavericks themselves, infected slaves of Sigma and the Virus that slept in their stasis chambers until their masters arrived, with need of their services.

The New Maverick Nation's hidden base in Cairo had been one of them, a necessary sacrifice in order to play out the farce to its fullest extent; he'd cleaned out everything of actual value before "donating" it to their cause. Once he had no more use for that particular facility, however, he'd returned to another of his own, the one that had been quietly preparing for this day ever since he'd first made his deal with Lucallion. Even then, he'd had the full script for today's show already written in his head; it was simply a matter of setting the stage.

Not a head turned his way as he walked down the halls. Not a single Maverick so much as glanced at him. They all knew better. Displays of obedience were all well and good, in their own time, but right now what he required from his Mavericks was efficiency. And so they typed and worked and armed themselves, as he made his way to this particular base's most important feature. A docking bay, one that would open up over the Pacific coastline, hidden behind camoflauge of the same rocky cliffside that the base lurked within.

There, he found the most valuable piece of the base's equipment, one that had taken a great deal of resources to construct, even for him. A Rogumer-class gunship, much like the one that Storm Eagle had piloted in his name all those years ago, both as a Hunter and then later as one of the hunted, until Mega Man X had brought him down with the ship just like everybody else. This one was even more fearsome than Storm's Death Rogumer had been; that had been the first of its kind, while this vessel had decades more of technological advancement behind it.

Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't expendable. But then again, there was nothing that wasn't, in the end.

"Lord Sigma," one of the Mavericks in the docking bay finally addressed him as he walked inside, standing up from the crate he'd been packing and snapping off a hasty salute.

"As you were," the Maverick Emperor told him, walking past without so much as giving him a glance. "Is the captain already on board?"

"Yes, sir," the Maverick, an unassuming humanoid in brown and gray armor, replied calmly. Something about his tone made Sigma glance at him, and for a moment he wondered why he was familiar, before remembering. It hadn't been him, but he bore a remarkable resemblance to one of the two Hunters who'd survived Zero Omega's first massacre upon awakening in the reploid world, long enough to point Sigma to "the crazy red Maverick" who'd wiped out their entire Unit single-handedly before proceeding to thrash Sigma himself within an inch of his life.

Only then had Zero passed on the contagion that had become both the blessing and the bane of Sigma's existence ever since, while he himself had gone on to a highly successful career as the greatest Maverick Hunter alive. In a certain sense, the two of them had traded places, traded lives, traded fates on that day. Until fifty years later, Sigma had finally settled matters with Zero, in the wake of Eurasia's fall, leaving only X to oppose him ever since.

No, the Virus ordered him as the unwitting grunt turned away, as Sigma's fists clenched. He is ours, and he is still useful to us. Why kill him?

I never got to kill either of them, Sigma thought quietly in response. The two who were there, on the day we became one. They both died a few days later, in an unrelated firefight, and they took any suspicions they might have had about what had happened that day to the grave with them. I shouldn't have let that happen. I should have killed them myself, as soon as I walked out of there, to make sure they never told anybody.

In the condition you were in at the time? The Virus taunted him. Mangled and maimed, with only one arm, and half your face ripped off? I'd have liked to have seen you try it.

They were weak. Sigma sneered. Weekend Hunters, just like all the others in their Unit. Even their Captain was overconfident. I could have slaughtered fools like them all day and all night, even in that condition. But I never got the chance.

That isn't him, The Virus replied, unyielding. And we have better things to do than to waste those who are ours on your bloodlust. If he wasn't one of ours, I'd have agreed with you, but he is. Save it for what's coming next. We'll both have plenty of time to enjoy it then. With the reprimand came just a moment of agony, a touch of pain that would have cause him to writhe in torment had it lasted for longer. Theirs was a partnership, but it was not of equals, and the Maverick Virus never passed up an opportunity to remind him of who was calling the shots.

Straightening his back, Sigma continued through the hangar without another word. As he approached the gunship, it lowered a boarding lift, and he stepped aboard. Once it had retracted back into the ship's belly, he kept walking past the drones that filled its hold, ones he'd chosen personally for a very specific purpose. Today's battle was going to be an important one, after all, and he wanted to make sure every part of it went as perfectly as possible. For his own sense of drama, and for many other reasons besides.

More Mavericks saluted him as he continued into the upper levels of the gunship, but he continued past without giving them a glance, until he reached the bridge. There, the Maverick who he'd appointed captain, a former veteran of the Global Defense Council's air force, stood at the controls with his back ramrod straight, staring out the windshield as if he were already in flight. After a moment, he turned to see who had joined him, and when he did, his response was the same as all of the others aboard the ship.

"Lord Sigma, sah!" He rattled off in a murky British accent, though his salute was perfect. "We are awaiting your command!"

He even looks a little like Storm, Sigma thought, amused by the irony. The resemblance was only passing, of course; Storm Eagle had been the model implied by his name, while the captain was designed to resemble a vulture, his paintjob black and red as opposed to Storm's purple and blue. Even his accent was the coarse dialect of Manchester rather than Storm's crisp Oxford. Even so, the coincidence amused Sigma. One thing he hadn't lost over the years was his sense of humor, though like everything else about him, it had become twisted over the years.

"Commence takeoff," Sigma ordered him, stepping up next to him. "And set a course for the engagement zone."

"As you command, sah." The captain turned back to his controls, and a moment later, the ship began to rumble as the docking bay doors ahead of them began to open. As soon as they were fully retracted, the gunship took off, blasting forward over the ocean. Behind him, those Mavericks still in the base were already preparing for their own departure. Soon, they would all be gone, destroying the base behind them, just as Sigma had set the New Maverick Nation's home to self-destruct once he was done. There was no point in leaving anything behind for the Hunters to comb through.

"How long until we arrive?" Sigma asked, raising an eyebrow, as the Rogumer made a swift u-turn once it was far enough out. Climbing, it cleared the cliffside, and soared over the Florida wasteland, the shifting sands below identical to most of the world by now.

"Five minutes, sah," the captain replied without turning. "It's a rough day, meteorologically speaking, but the worst of it won't get here for a while yet. We should be able to make the flight without much trouble."

"Perfect." Sigma allowed himself a cold smile. "That should be just the right moment to join the party. Has anything unusual happened there yet?"

"Not-" the captain started to say, before pausing. "Actually... no, wait. There is something. A single warp signature arrived there from somewhere over in Japan a minute ago, and now it looks like we've got... twenty-nine more following it. It looks like the Hunters figured it out somehow and sent in reinforcements; there wasn't enough time for the ones who were there to have called it in, unless somebody's got a bloody good reaction time."

"X." Sigma continued to smile. "It's Mega Man X, and the rest of his personal squad of toy soldiers. I knew he'd be there. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that he made it even faster than we expected. Good for him."

"Is there any change in the plan, sah?" The captain asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Hm." Sigma thought it over for a moment. "Well, if X is already there... I suppose there's no point in wasting time. Have the crew switch out the regular ammunition in the artillery, and load the special rounds."

"The party favors?" The captain grinned nastily.

"Exactly." Sigma chuckled. "They've been sleeping long enough as it is. I'm sure they won't mind an early wake-up call."

"My thoughts exactly, sah." The captain turned back to his console, and began barking orders into it, while Sigma turned his eyes back to the windshield. The sky was a bloody red, despite the fact that night should have already come, and the Maverick Emperor found that to be a good sign. That was one color he'd never had enough of, and likely never would, no matter how long he lived, how many times he died and returned.

Of course, he preferred real blood, spilled from the twitching corpse of an innocent victim. Human or reploid, he'd long ago stopped caring, despite his original purpose and stated goal of purging the world of humans. That had faded, along with everything else, over the years and the deaths. Now, the only thing he really cared about, all that brought him joy, was violence for its own sake. In many ways, his was the same mentality as any serial killer of your choice, delighting in pure sadism and heedless carnage.

Of course, most serial killers weren't immortal, nor did they command armies like his.

"We're here, sah," the captain told him briskly, looking his way again. "Shall I pull up?"

"Stop about a mile away," Sigma agreed, and waited for it to do so before speaking again. "Now. Open fire."

This is going to be fun, he thought as the captain obeyed.

Indeed it will be, the Maverick Virus, the greatest evil the world had ever known, agreed.

March 2, 2185, 7:25 PM

Ruins of Walt Disney World, Florida

"Here it comes!" X yelled, bracing himself, as the gunship opened fire.

And absolutely nothing happened.

"Uh," Arvis said after a moment. Looking around the battlefield, he almost idly brought his buster up and fired a charged shot over X's right shoulder, prompting a scream of pain. "Is it just me, or..."

"No, it's not." X shook his head as he slashed his beam saber across the ground behind him, where the Maverick Arvis had nailed had fallen. Taking a moment's glance to confirm that he'd killed him, he returned the favor with a charged shot of his own over his second-in-command's head before checking the battlefield around them. Nothing had changed; the sounds of battle were still raging, but there was no more screaming then there had been before, and no sounds of heavy weapons fire hitting targets. "It didn't fire directly at us. Which means..."

"Oh, great." Arvis growled as he and X both looked skyward, even as he took a plasma grenade from his belt and tossed it onto the downed Maverick behind him. As they'd feared, small black dots were slowly descending from the heavens, flying out from the gunship towards the sky above the conflict. "Mortars, you think?"

"Maybe." X frowned. "They're not aimed at the center of the fight, though. It looks more like he's trying to surround us with... oh, no." As the first wave came down, he finally saw what they were. Hibernation tanks for reploids, ones meant to be self-powered, with separate generators. Each had a gigantic metal spike on the bottom, and as they started hitting the ground around the battlefield's outer proximity, said spikes plunged into the dirt, so that the capsules landed upright. They looked almost like gigantic syringes, especially with the bubbling green goo inside.

And then, as more and more landed, spreading to both sides around the conflict from the original point, the Mavericks inside the tanks opened their eyes. One by one, they awakened and burst through the glass covering them, dripping and furious. Roaring, they charged, as more and more of their brethren continued to descend.

"Uh, boss?" Arvis asked quietly, as they two of them continued to fight, the rest of the 17th nearby. "Remember how the plan was to surround them in two groups, and then use that to wipe out one first, then the other?"

"I remember," X replied, scowling. The ring of falling Mavericks looked to be nearing fifty already, and it had almost completed the circle around them all. As he watched and fought, it did so, and then began repeating, forming a second line around the first starting from the opposite side this time. The result was simple, but hardly pleasant; the 17th, the 22nd, and the 21st and 23rd were now surrounded on all sides by superior numbers of berserker Infected, in three separate groups, with the Maverick gunship still looming close by.

"Figures Sigma would think along similar lines," he growled, dash-jumping toward a particularly large Maverick and firing off a charged shot straight at his face. The blast stunned him, and before he could recover, X cut his head in half down the center with the Z-saber. Planting his feet on the corpse, which was falling backwards, he kicked off of it and over the head of another Maverick who was charging him from behind, and came down on him like a buzzsaw. "Alia, we're going to need even more reinforcements. This is a no-win situation."

"I've already got the 00 Unit en route," she replied; though her voice seemed calm, he'd known her long enough to detect the stress she was trying to hide. "Will that be enough, do you think, or should I advise Signas to send in another two Units?"

"How many are still on base right now?" He asked, whirling around and firing a charged shot at the same time Arvis did, both of them doing so to opposite sides of the head of the same Maverick.

"Ten," she answered. "The 2nd, the 4th, the 9th, the 10th, the 14th, the 19th, the 20th, the 24th, the 28th and the 30th. The other fifteen were all already out when this started happening."

"Not good." X winced as the ring of charging Mavericks collided with the Hunters, turning and engaging one of them. "Is anything like this happening at any of those?"

"Not so far, but Signas is having everybody watch out for any signs of trouble," she assured him.

"Good." He thought it over for a moment, then shook his head. "If there's only ten Units left on base... that's too few. Remember back in '68, when Sigma started off with a bunch of bullshit meant to tie up as many Hunters as possible before he really got going? We can't take the risk that he'll do that again. Signas knows it too; he'll want to keep as many Units as possible on standby in case of that scenario. The 00 will have to be enough."

"I was afraid you'd say that." She sighed. "Any ideas for what you're going to do about that gunship?"

"Good thought." He glanced at Arvis, who was currently punching a gator-class Maverick right in the mouth, hard enough to break through his killer teeth. The stout reploid pulled his fist back, quickly, before dashing away, and the Maverick had a moment to look surprised before the grenade Arvis had shoved down his throat detonated. "Put Javier, Helen and Serris on the 17th's line for a moment." He paused. "Or just put the two of us on theirs. Do Delta Force all use the same channel when they're out together?"

"They do," Alia confirmed. "Hold on a second."

"-cking piece of shit!" Helen's voice rang in his ears almost immediately. "Where the fuck is Lassiter? We're losing people here!"

"We're all losing people, Helen," Javier snapped back, his normally cheerful tone gone. "This is a real mess."

"It is, but it's not unsalvageable just yet," X chimed in. "Once Lassiter gets here, we'll be able to start taking control of this fight again. Knowing him, he'll go for the southern group first. As soon as he does, the 17th will focus on the north side so the Coldbloods don't get massacred."

"That would be appreciated," Serris replied, as calm as ever.

"Once the southern group's dead, we can take out the northern one without much more trouble," X continued. "The problem is that Rogumer. The 17th only has two Hunters with flight capabilities."

"Same here," Helen admitted, sounding peeved. "And Anderson's taken some pretty heavy damage already. He's not fit for that kind of assault. I'd have sent him back to base already under any other circumstances."

"We've got four, including myself, and I think the Coldbloods have two," Javier told them. "Assuming none of them get taken out before that point, that's nine total, plus however many the 00 has. Will that be enough to take down that gunship?"

"Let's hope so," X told them. "I'll tell my two boys to follow you when you take off, then, Javier. Launch the attack whenever you think would be best, but if you-know-who's up there..." He left it hanging.

"There's a different between being willing to take risks and being suicidal, X," Javier assured him with a slightly forced chuckle. "Mister Clean shows his ugly head, we'll try and lure him down here for you to handle."

"Good." X nodded, killing another Maverick as he switched back to the 17th's channel. "Williams, Basil, we're going to be sending all our fliers to take out that gunship before long. Javier'll be leading the attack. When he calls, go with him."

"Understood," Williams replied laconically.

"Captain Javier, eh?" Basil said, just as unconcerned; they were veterans of the 17th, and they'd both seen situations just as bad as this, if not worse, a dozen times before. "He knows what he's doing. Rightyo, Captain."

"Here comes the 00!" Alia told them all, as more beams of light descended from the heavens, surrounding the southern half of the ring of Mavericks just as they'd done to the 21st and 23rd only minutes before.

"No screwing around!" Lassiter's voice boomed over the battlefield as the Hunters' best beam saber specialists dashed in low to the ground, their weapons out in a wide variety of colored plasma; the rainbow arrangement would have almost been comical, were it not deadly to the touch. "Carve 'em up, cold, clean, professional!"

"17th Unit, focus on the north side!" X ordered, following up on that. "Watch your backs, but focus on that group! Bail the 22nd out!"

"Not really the most diplomatic way to put that, sir," Arvis pointed out as he tossed another plasma grenade into a group of Mavericks, then peppered them with uncharged shots, keeping them there long enough for it to go off. "Good thing the Coldbloods probably won't mind."

"This isn't the time or place for diplomacy, Arvis," X reminded him, coldly running an innocent-looking female humanoid through with his beam saber, before blowing her face off with a charged shot just in case.

"Joke, sir," Arvis explained, shaking his head. "Sorry."

"I don't have much of a sense of humor any more when Sigma's on deck," X grunted as the two of them went back to back, spraying half-a-dozen Mavericks who were busy with others of the 17th. All of the Mavericks flinched, and all of the Hunters followed up on that. "Alia, how's it looking? Give me the numbers."

"We had them down to about a hundred and ten before the gunship launched those reinforcements, but that raised the numbers back up to two hundred or so," Alia reported. "Right now, I'd say there's about fifty left in the south group, and eighty in the north. The 21st, 22nd and 23rd have all lost about five men each so far, and the 17th... we've lost two, X."

"Who?" X asked quietly, cursing himself for not paying closer attention to the main channel; he didn't remember hearing any deaths.

"Lakus and Morena," she told him somberly. "They've both been avenged, at least."

"Vengeance doesn't seem to mean as much as it did when I was younger, for some reason," X replied wearily, killing another Maverick as he felt his years pressing down on him. Despite that, he turned to continue the battle, and his eyes narrowed as he saw the Rogumer starting to move again, approaching the conflict. "Of course, there are always exceptions."

"Spread out!" Helen yelled, loud enough to be heard clearly even over the noise of the battlefield. "Don't stay grouped together, or else we'll all be easy targets for a bombing run! Make it so they'll hit as many of their own guys as ours if they do!"

"What she said!" Arvis shouted in agreement. "Do it!"

"I'm going to move up the schedule on that aerial attack," Javier's voice popped in on the 17th's channel. "That all right with you, X?"

"Do it," X shot back. "We'll handle the cleanup here." As the battlefield became even more chaotic, he began ripping a path through the north side, leaving Arvis behind to oversee the 17th's activities. The priority was to minimize any more deaths, and the 22nd were in the worst position. They were the ones who needed him the most.

Dash-jumping into the air, he fired a charged shot downwards to boost his height, and passed over the head of a startled Maverick. As he did, he adjusted the angle of the jets in his boots and turned his leap into a spin, as he held the Z-saber above his head. The result on the Maverick's head was fairly gruesome, as it was on the one who'd been behind him. Landing neatly as the two corpses tumbled backwards in opposite directions, X plunged the saber into the gut of another Maverick to his left before the foe could react, even as he fired a flurry of shots at one to his right.

Another precisely aimed burst of fuel from his dash boots, and he did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree spin, but both Mavericks were already recovering. One of them, a snake-model, lunged with his jaws gaping. At the same time, the other, a large red-armored humanoid, raised his arm cannon and activated a burst of flame. The second was faster, and X took the first few licks of fire before dashing back the way he'd come, leaving the snake to charge straight into his comrade's blaze.

Taking a quick glance at the sky and seeing Javier lead nine more Hunters up, the Captain of the 21st flying on a jetpack that had emerged from his back, X turned back to the pair of Mavericks behind him and went for the humanoid. Darting in low to the ground as he turned towards him, he dash-jumped with his Z-saber, carving him from crotch to crown. Landing, he turned to the screaming, burning snake and executed him as well, as three more Mavericks all charged him at once, roaring in fury.

"Evening, X," a familiar voice came from behind them, as clouds of cryogenic gas spread over all three, freezing them to the spot. Finishing them off with clinical stabs of his dark blue beam saber, Serris nodded at X. "I appreciate the backup."

"Seemed like it was appropriate," X replied, grimacing as a shadow passed over them; the gunship was flying overhead. "Alia? Is it dropping bombs?"

"It doesn't look like it," she replied tersely. "No, wait, there's something falling, but it's not a bomb. It's a reploid, and it's... it's him, X."

X didn't need to ask who he was. He turned without another word, and saw what he'd been waiting for. Sigma had jumped from the passing airship, alone, and was falling towards the center of the conflict, where the 17th were concentrated. His new body was monstrous even by his standards, a gigantic hulk bristling with weapons systems. Everybody else had seen him as well, and the entire battlefield went still and silent for an all-too-brief moment as the Maverick Emperor plummeted from the blazing red heavens.

And then he landed, knees bent, and the shockwave sent everybody within twenty feet of him flying away by its force, Hunter and Maverick alike. Straightening his back, he met X's eyes across the battlefield, and his lips twitched upward in that all-too-familiar sneer as what had looked like skeletal black wings on his back sprang to life. Each joint on each segment revealed itself as some kind of weapon, plasma and mag-rounds and small explosives all jumbled together; all opened fire at once, carving a path through friend and foe alike.

"I knew it," X muttered under his breath as he dashed back the way he'd come; only a few Mavericks still stood between them, out of range of their Emperor's assault. "I knew he'd show up." The first Maverick in his way was still staring at Sigma; without giving him the chance to recover, X plunged the Z-saber into the side of his neck before moving onto the next one.

Sigma seemed to have the exact same thing in mind. His "wings" went dead again, as he began walking calmly forward towards X, through the corpses he'd created in only a few seconds. When a howling Hunter leaped towards him from behind, Sigma didn't even look. A massive bulge on his right arm, the larger of the two, slid over his hand and formed an buster. Pointing it over his shoulder, the Maverick Emperor fired a blast of plasma fully as large as X's Hyper Cannon, the most powerful buster he'd ever used, and one that he'd unfortunately lost years ago.

The Hunter fell to the ground, smoking, and a horde of ravening Mavericks poured over him as Sigma continued his advance. When another Hunter lunged at him, this time one of X's from the 17th, the Maverick Emperor pulled a steel cylinder from his belt; the hilt of a beam saber, or so X thought. Instead, it promptly extended into a pole before a crosspiece sprang out, extending to either side of one end. Only then did emitters at right angles of both ends of the crosspiece activate, along with a third in the center, creating a beam pitchfork that skewered the Hunter through face, chest and stomach.

"Enough," X snarled, killing both of the Mavericks in his way just as coldly, one with his Buster and one with his Z-saber, before raising his voice. "Everybody stick to the rest of them! I'll handle him!" Stepping forward, he looked up at his eternal nemesis, who regarded him just as calmly, as the battle raged around them. His thoughts drifted back to Mecha, and to the syringe its rulers had given him, which he'd slipped into his chest compartment alongside a pair of Heart Tanks he kept on him at all times to extend his internal operations energy.

"X," Sigma said calmly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

March 2, 2185, 7:30 PM

Ruins of Walt Disney World, Florida

It was almost like greeting an old friend.

"Sigma," X replied, just as calmly, though his eyes betrayed his true feelings on the matter, blazing with hatred and disgust. It had been several years since they'd last met, but that was nothing, considering how long they'd both been alive, how long they'd been fighting. Them, and one other, who'd left the game decades ago. Left the two-three, counting the consciousness of the Maverick Virus-of them to continue their eternal struggle. And despite the odds, X had persevered, throwing aside the shackles of his pacifism to meet Sigma's endless challenge and defeat it, time after time. Alone.

The last hope of the Maverick Hunters had finally grown up, after Eurasia, no longer needing the armor sets that his father had given him in order to stand a chance at all. Now, he stood before Sigma, his blue armor stained with ash and synthblood, fully accepting what had brought him to that point and ready to do so again, as many times as necessary. With only a Mark-17 X-Buster and a first-generation green beam saber, he was the equal of Sigma's new body, bristling with advanced weaponry and full of ancient malevolence.

You should infect him, the Maverick Virus told him, though its suggestion was almost sarcastic, as if it knew what his response would be already. As it should; it was something of a running joke between the two, one that would only be funny to the two of them. Their own, private jest.

Not yet, Sigma thought back, still standing motionless before X. He's built up a resistance to it, so it would take a much stronger dose than a normal reploid, and he'd dodge it anyways. Besides... infecting him now would be too easy. No... him, we'll save for last. Only once he has seen his world collapse in flames, only when everybody he loves, everything he cares for has been taken from him... only when he finally gives up, will we grant him the blessing of madness and take his pain away from him forever.

"Subtle," X said at last, sarcastic after several moments of silence.

"I thought so," Sigma replied, deliberately misinterpreting the statement and inclining his head to one side, towards the carnage that still raged around them both. "And here you thought I never had a sense of humor." He met X's eyes again; they both knew that words were unnecessary, at this point. "Shall we, then?"

X needed no further commentary to motivate him. Dashing forward as Sigma raised his buster, he cleaved the massive charged shot in two with a swing of his Z-saber, cutting plasma with plasma, a skill that even Zero had needed twenty years to master fully without the need of an upgrade to boost the weapon's power. Of course, Sigma himself had been able to do it after only six months, in the days when the Z-saber had been his, but that was hardly a fair comparison.

He couldn't do that the last time we met, Sigma noted with a hint of surprise as the second blue bomber continued his charge. The Maverick Emperor brought his beam trident down on his far smaller opponent, attempting to skewer him, but X leaned to the side just far enough to avoid the jab while continuing on his course. Now inside Sigma's range, X planted both feet on the Maverick Emperor's legs, and dashed again, vertically up his ten-foot surface.

A fist to the jaw snapped Sigma's head up and back, before X followed the rising uppercut with a charged shot from the same hand, then bringing up the Z-saber and slicing a deep gash up Sigma's chest. Growling, Sigma swiped at him with his buster hand, but X was already backflipping away and out of range. Landing on his feet, the blue bomber dashed to the side as Sigma activated the arsenal in his "wings," magweaponry and plasma fire and explosives all scoring a trench through the dirt and rubble of the Third World War.

Another charged shot flew towards Sigma, but this one he met with his trident hand, even as he threw the weapon straight towards X. The emitter in his hand activated, and he cut the blast as X had done to his, as the blue bomber flung himself to the side. Though he avoided being spitted, one of the beam trident's prongs still grazed him, slicing into his right shoulder.

The fact that it continued on its course to impale an unlucky Maverick Hunter in the back helped a little, though.

"Sigma!" X roared, infuriated anew, as the Hunter died, twitching and moaning.

"Oh, please," Sigma replied dryly, sneering. "That was your action, not mine. I was aiming for you. Is it my fault you refused to cooperate?"

Snarling, X fired another charged shot before dashing towards him again; he'd long ago learned that those were the only kind that even left a scorch mark on Sigma, no matter what body he was using. Ordinary fire was useless... against Sigma, at least. X himself was another story. Activating his buster again, Sigma used the uncharged function this time, one that he'd based off of an ancient, alternate buster design. One that, at the time, had left its user unable to charge shots in exchange for the other advantages it gave.

The buster fired, at ten times the normal speed of an ordinary X-buster, an automatic stream of death ripping into the ground as it raced towards X. The blue bomber dashed forward and to the side, and Sigma followed him, only for X to turn and dash-jump over the plasma fire even as Sigma raised it, coming straight at him. Unconcerned, Sigma used his trident hand's palm saber to block X's sword, taking the charged shot in the face with no more than a grunt. That, and a smile, as X fell back and landed, bracing himself for another attack immediately.

Dousing his palm saber, Sigma activated the recall function in his beam trident, still sticking out of the dead hunter behind X. Deactivating momentarily, it flipped around before blazing to life once more and flinging itself straight towards Sigma's outstretched hand, unconcerned with the small blue Hunter between the two even as X moved to attack.

Unfortunately, it wasn't to be; instinct was the only explanation for how X was able to realize what was about to happen, and abort his attack, flinging himself to the dirt. Catching the weapon, Sigma jabbed at him again even as he fired off his "wings," aiming the massive weapons array at the prone Hunter. Only the first few rounds hit home, unfortunately; firing off his dash boots without bothering to rise, X blasted forward towards Sigma's legs headfirst, even as plasma and metal pierced his armor.

Any amusement Sigma might have felt at the sight of X lying on the ground at his feet vanished when the Hunter lashed out with his beam saber, scoring Sigma's ankles. Growling, he flexed his knees and leapt into the air, attempting to bring his massive weight down and crush X's spine. Unfortunately, X simply dashed again, behind and away from him. By the time Sigma had landed and turned around, X was back on his feet, and another charged shot burned into Sigma's face, the weakest-though still incredibly resistant-portion of his body.

"Ha!" Sigma laughed, grinning maniacally. "Not bad, X! Not bad at all! Let's turn it up a notch!" Jumping again, this time straight up, he activated the hoverjets in the soles of his feet, and stood there in the air, ten feet up and fully suspended. As X blinked, surprised, he fired off another charged shot, which the Hunter recovered in time to dash under. Undeterred, Sigma jabbed down at him with his trident again, but X was expecting that, and dashed backwards at the last moment, firing at Sigma's head once more.

This time, when Sigma threw the beam trident, it came towards X at a downwards angle, and lodged in nothing more than the ground when he dodged back even further. Sigma's wings followed it with a storm of destruction, one which X dashed to the side to avoid. As soon as the wings went still again-as powerful as they were, they could only fire for a few seconds at a time before the matter generators that provided the ammunition needed to recharge-X moved back to the trident, stuck in the ground at a diagonal angle, even as Sigma raised his buster and prepared to fire.

To Sigma's surprise, X charged directly into the stream of fire, crossing his arms over his face to protect it. Shots slammed into him at a rapid pace, but still he continued, actually dashing onto Sigma's own beam trident and then off of it, somehow managing to place his feet on the thin shaft long enough to dash and jump off of it, straight towards the airborne Maverick.

You're being too predictable, the Maverick Virus said critically, as X delivered both a point-blank charged shot directly to the face and another brutal cut with the Z-Saber; only by leaning back at the last moment was Sigma able to avoid taking the latter through his face, and even then it still cut a massive gash into his shoulder and chest. He's already caught on, and he knows what you'll do next. He has the advantage, and he'll keep it.

This isn't our real fight, Sigma thought back, as his beam trident whirled around before lunging at X again as he fell back to earth, shooting straight beneath Sigma's feet. This is just the warm-up. The opening act. When the real showdown comes along, he'll expect me to fight just like I did this time, and that's when I'll give him a rude awakening.

The instant he landed, X fired off his dash boots and jumped, in a way that provided enough propulsion that he was able to do a backflip over the beam trident. Turning around in the air, Sigma snorted and held out a hand, catching his weapon before opening fire with his "wings" once more. Unfortunately, that was enough time for X to dash back under him again, prompting Sigma to drop to the earth. As he had when he'd landed from the Rogumer, his impact created a shockwave, one that knocked X off of his feet.

Sneering again, Sigma raised his buster and fired off a gigantic charged shot, one that X was barely able to dash away from without rising; even then, it grazed the back of his boots, and despite his enemy's efforts to remain stoic, Sigma heard him hiss with pain. When X moved to climb back to his feet, the Maverick Emperor hurled his trident once more, and this time one of its plasma blades found X's arm even as the Blue Bomber lunged to the side. Continuing through and past him, it hit one of Sigma's own Mavericks, killing him as quickly as the Hunter earlier.

How many of them are left, here? He thought idly as he opened fire with his "wings."

Forty-nine left, the Maverick Virus replied, sounding slightly irritable now. The Hunters have won. There's only two groups and a few stragglers left, and they're dying quickly.

Que sera, sera, Sigma responded with a philosophical shrug as, on cue, the Rogumer-class gunship he'd made his entrance in exploded overhead. And there goes that, too. It's just as well that we never meant to win this one in the first place.

Then why did we throw away that extra hundred? The Virus demanded, watching through Sigma's eyes as X dashed and dodged, avoiding the barrage of artillery. Losing the New Maverick Nation was bad enough, even if they were useless, but then we go and add some of our own forces to the slaughter, even though we knew they would only die. What's the point?

You really don't care about anything at all except the numbers, do you? Sigma thought, amused, as he fired off his buster once more, leading X even as the Maverick Hunter hit him in the head with a charged shot once more. He would need reconstructive surgery from one of their enslaved doctors, along with a refill of his internal operations energy; though he guessed that X was down to less than half of his, Sigma's was in a similar state. About how many are yours. How many belong to you. How many souls you're composed of.

Of course not, the Virus agreed. That's the point. That's all that matters. It sent a brief, momentary blast of pain through Sigma's systems, only long enough to make him twitch for a split-second. A warning. I'll ask again. What was the point of this, Sigma?

The point, my friend, was to wake X up, Sigma told it as he recalled his trident. To remind him of what his life truly is. Of the nightmare from which death will be a release, should he be lucky enough to receive it. It's just about played out, however, and so... Firing off another barrage from his wings, he waited until it was complete before folding his arms and speaking aloud. "Hahahaha... you haven't lost your touch, X. I'm glad to see it. That should do for today." As he readied himself to depart, he met X's eyes... and what he saw there gave him pause.

"Running away, Sigma?" X said scornfully, calm and cold. "Where's the fun in that? You came all this way. Why not enjoy yourself a bit more?"

Well, now, the Virus murmured. That doesn't sound like X at all.

No, it doesn't, Sigma agreed, looking the Hunter over again, more carefully this time. That sounds more like something Zero would have said, than X. Has he really changed that much, or... no. No, he's got something up his sleeve. He's planning something. Interesting. "If you're that eager for death, X... perhaps I can put off my afternoon appointment a little longer!"

Activating the hoverjets in his feet again, Sigma rose into the air before firing off his buster and hurling his trident in rapid succession, much faster than he had before. Dashing under the first, and then back away from the last, X changed directions again and blasted off of the trident to reach Sigma, just as he had before. Of course, he'd seen that coming, but even as he prepared to fire off his wings and blow him out of the air, X was already there.

So fast! Sigma thought, eyes wide, as X opened his chest compartment in mid-air and pulled something from it. Did he manage to upgrade his dash boots somehow, or... Even as he wondered, X hit, actually slamming bodily into him, grabbing onto one of Sigma's shoulders with one hand.

And even as his "wings" turned that hand into scrap metal, though the rest of X was shielded by Sigma's own massive body, the second Blue Bomber slammed something into the side of his nemesis' thick neck with his other hand. The weapon he'd pulled from his chest compartment. A reploid syringe, used on one of the only unarmored parts of Sigma's new body.

"Really, X?" Sigma asked, disappointed, as X dropped to the earth, clutching his maimed hand and howling involuntarily. "Another 'miracle' cure for me? Again? Was that what you were planning?" He shook his head, preparing himself for what would probably be an intense amount of pain. It might even eject him from his new body. But it wouldn't kill him. How did you kill a ghost? An immortal mind, welded permanently to that of a living computer virus?

And that was when he realized that he could no longer hear the Virus' voice, sense its mind within his own, feel its contaminating presence in his bones and blood. He realized that he couldn't even feel his body himself. He was there, but the body was no longer his. He wasn't being cast out, wasn't being banished or cleansed or damaged... he was simply frozen. Paralyzed. Stopped. A soul put on pause. All that he felt was the void, the lack of a conscious mind for the body of a sentient being. It was beyond words, beyond thought, beyond comprehension. An utter, primal need for something.

And something came. Something that had long been gone, that had vanished decades ago, returned, pulled back by that indescribable need that the syringe had created. And as it rushed back to fill him once more, Sigma saw it all. Everything that he had done, every atrocity he had committed, every friend (or minion, or were there those who had been both? Could something like him even have friends at all?) he'd betrayed, every victim he'd murdered or worse than murdered. All the horror, all the bloodshed, all the death and destruction and infection he'd been responsible for.

He saw it all, in the space of only a few seconds. Every moment of nearly eighty years as the greatest plague the reploid world had ever known, all at once. He saw it, and he saw himself, what he had become... and he screamed, raising his hands to the blood-red heavens above, as the weight of his sins crushed him, body and soul and mind. As he realized who and what he was, in a way he had never before. For that part of him which was even capable of doing so had vanished, after his first death... and now had returned.

Moscow. Casablanca. Cairo. Ireland. Hawaii. The satellite Eurasia. The truth. Dark Iris. URFAWP. Zero's reclamation. Repliforce. Dopplertown. The X-Hunters. Velguarder. Sting. Launch. Boomer. Arm. Spark. Storm. Flame. Chill. Cancer. Cain. All those years, all those Uprisings... so much death, so much destruction, so much suffering, so much sorrow... who? Who could have done such things? What am I? Who am I? Why can't I remember?

"I..." he whispered at last, fallen to earth once more, staring at his own blood-stained hands in horror, as X watched him with surprise and suspicion mixed in his eyes. "I am Sigma... Commanding Officer... of the Maverick Hunters. X... what have I done?"

And then he was gone, fleeing in mindless panic, warping away on the wind.

March 2, 2185, Noon

Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Tokyo

"With all due respect, what the hell was in that thing you jabbed him with?" Pitbull's voice was level, but only through a great deal of obvious effort; the anger in his voice was still just as clearly audible as it was visible on his face.

"That does seem to be the operative question," Signas agreed, as every eye in the meeting room turned to X. It had been two hours since the victorious Hunters had finished eradicating every last living Maverick, and returned to the MHHQ, exhausted and furious at the price they'd paid for Sigma's latest trick. They'd won, but casualties had been far from minimal. "Whatever it is, it did appear to have some effect. I just wish we knew what that effect was."

"Screaming and running was certainly interesting, especially from him, but it's hardly enough to support any conclusions alone," Lifesaver murmured, as clinical as ever.

"Well, X?" Lassiter prompted the Hunter sitting across the table from him, more calmly than Pitbull, but no less firmly.

"To be honest, I don't know myself," X admitted finally. Ever since returning, he'd almost seemed dazed; whenever anybody wasn't directly commanding his full attention, he'd stared off into space, and was doing the same now, hands on both sides of his head as he leaned over the table. "I got it when I was down there. In the hidden city of the Robot Masters. Their leader gave it to me, as a present. Said one of them-the other female reploid, Countess, the only one we haven't seen up here-had been working on it ever since she was created."

"And they advised you to use it on Sigma?" Alia asked him gently; her face was calm, but Signas had known both her and X long enough to sense her worry, and the reason for it.

"Yes." X finally raised his head to meet her eyes. "They said it was the 'silver bullet.' I assumed it was just another attempt at a cure, so I didn't really expect much, but it was worth a shot. I'd have brought it back and turned it over for testing first, but..." He left it hanging.

"But that shitstorm broke out, and you didn't have time," Javier finished for him, shaking his head. The stout Captain had taken severe wounds during his assault on the Rogumer-class gunship, where he'd personally set the charges that had destroyed the main reactor, but he'd insisted on remaining active long enough to attend the meeting, despite Lifesaver's recommendations. "And when Sigma showed up, you took the chance. No telling how long it would have been before you got another one if you passed it up."

"Exactly." X slowly nodded. "I just wish I knew what it did."

"There are, fortunately, a couple of other possible sources on base for that answer," Alia pointed out. "Shall I step out for a moment, and send for them?"

"They weren't feeling too talkative earlier, from what I hear," Suzy told her, frowning. "Why would they change their minds now?"

"Because the game's changed," X said quietly, his voice growing more firm, and when he continued there was nothing of his earlier confusion in it. "Mecha were the ones who warned me about what was going to happen. Prince was as surprised as I was, so they probably only learned about it after he left. They told me as soon as they'd convinced me to hear them out, and take that syringe. If they hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to grab the 17th and come in, let alone the 00."

"And by the time we figured it out, and called in for reinforcements, we'd have been down a lot more men," Helen continued, scowling and clutching her arm, which had been wounded in the fight. "Damn! I hate to admit it, but that's a pretty good point in these guys' favor."

"You think you'll be able to convince them to talk now, then?" Douglas asked X.

"Yeah." He nodded. "I do. And I think we should."

"Do it, then," Signas told Alia, and she nodded before stepping outside; she would need to leave the room before communicating with any other member of the staff. As she walked towards the door, he continued. "Today's battle may have been won, but the price was heavier than I'd have liked."

"What were the total casualties, anyways?" Pitbull grunted.

"Seven from the 21st, eight from both the 22nd and 23rd," Serris told him, calm and cold. "Three from the 17th and four from the 00. Thirty total. An entire Unit's worth between us."

"He suckered us," Helen added, eyes narrowed. "Again. No matter how many times it happens, we still keep falling for it, every goddamn time. I can't believe we bought that clown act."

"The past is the past," Signas said, shaking his head slowly. "We cannot change it, but the future is another story. Normally, by now I would have expected Sigma to proceed to the next stage of whatever his latest plan is, but it's been two hours and there's been nothing more than normal activity, anywhere in the world."

"Could be what X stuck him with had something to do with that," Lassiter suggested. "He didn't seem to take it well."

"No, he didn't," Suzy agreed, as Alia reentered the room and began walking back to her chair. "I wasn't there, so maybe I'm wrong, but from what I could see when I watched the footage, it looked like he was saying something, after he finished yelling and all."

"Yes." X slowly nodded. "He did."

"What was it?" Lifesaver asked the obvious, after a moment's silence.

"I am Sigma," X whispered, so quietly that Signas was glad the Captains of the 29th and 30th both had excellent hearing. "Commanding Officer of the Maverick Hunters."

"Well," Douglas drawled, after another few moments of silence. "Good thing there's no possible way that could be anything but a good sign."

"Looked pretty rattled, to me, from what I could see of him," Lassiter pointed out. "And yes, I know how ridiculous it is, saying that about him."

"He's not immune to shock," X told him grimly. "It's rare, but it's happened before. I've seen it. Whatever it was that that syringe did, it got to him. I just wish I knew how." He shook his head. "At any rate, I wouldn't count on it actually changing anything. He's bounced back from worse. We'd better keep assuming that another Maverick Uprising could break out at any moment. Right now, though, we have other concerns to discuss."

"I'll admit, there isn't much more to say on that matter at the moment," Signas said, surprised, though he kept his face calm; it wasn't often, these days, that X spoke with such authority, and especially not when at a meeting with his equals in rank. "However, you sound as if you consider this next subject to be of just as much importance."

"Maybe not just as much, but it's close," X admitted, looking around. "The hidden city of the Robot Masters. Everybody knows by now that I agreed to go there, and meet with their leaders, before returning for today's fight."

"Well, none of us wanted to come out and say it," Javier admitted. "But yeah, okay, enough. Spill, X. What's the deal? Are they Maverick or not?"

"No." X shook his head. "One thing I'm sure of is that they're not Maverick. The only one who's ever killed a human is their leader, and he hasn't done that in a very long time."

"Um, X..." Simon coughed. "I'm pretty sure that if he's killed humans, the term 'Maverick' still applies to him, at least. It doesn't exactly have an expiration date."

"It would," Signas agreed, glancing at X. When his greatest Hunter nodded slightly, he continued. "If their leader was a reploid. When X said it had been a long time, he meant that he vowed to never kill another human before the term 'Maverick' even existed. The leader of these thieves, of this hidden society of Robot Masters, is a Robot Master himself. A survivor of the age of Mega Man." He closed his eyes. "King, son of Wily."

"Wait a second here," Suzy said, large blue eyes narrowing. "I remember reading about that guy once. Didn't he lead the Ninth Robot Rebellion, all by himself? Try to create a nation of robots, free of human control, even his creator's? Killed a lot of people trying to make it happen before he was taken down, too, I think."

"Everybody thought so at the time," X agreed, crossing his arms. "In the end, it turned out the entire thing was just another one of Dr. Wily's schemes, and King was a fall guy from the start. We know how that goes."

"Boy, do we ever," Lassiter agreed, rolling his eyes.

"But he still killed humans, didn't he?" Alia, of all people, was the one who asked, now frowning slightly as she met X's eyes.

"He did," X admitted. "For some reason, the original Mega Man spared him anyways, and he turned from his father's path, just like his two elder brothers both did. He claims he hasn't killed a single human or reploid ever since, for more than a century now. And I believe him." He paused, before relenting. "That being said, we should probably have somebody who's better at spotting a liar than I am talk to him about it, just in case, if we agree to his suggestion."

"Suggestion?" Signas raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it's more like a proposal," X continued. "One I think we should at least consider."

"Sir?" A voice came from the other side of the door. "We're here with the prisoners."

"Show them in, then return to your duties," Signas replied, raising his voice to carry across the room.

"Sir?" The guard asked, hesitantly. "You want us to just leave them with you?"

"Son, we got thirty of our best between them and the noncombatants," Pitbull yelled back. "If even one of us goes down, the lot of us don't deserve our rank." It seemed that was enough to convince the guards; a moment later, the door opened, and Duke and Marquis walked through, rubbing their wrists. Unfortunately, their first words didn't exactly do much to endear them to their audience.

"It's big," Duke noted, mustache twitching as he looked around. "A lot bigger than ours."

"Do you suppose somebody might be compensating for something?" Marquis asked coolly, smirking.

"Really, guys?" X asked, shaking his head, as several pairs of eyes down the table narrowed. "Really? Come on."

"We're suckers for the classics." Duke shrugged. "Well then, why don't we get down to business. As grateful as we are that we're being given the chance to discuss matters like gentlemen-and ladies, of course-I'm sure you realize that our degree of talkativeness depends rather severely on a couple of other factors."

"I thought it would." X nodded slowly. "I went with Prince, to Mecha. I met with King, and the other six. They gave me their offer. And a silver bullet, as well."

"You don't say," Marquis murmured, his voice no longer dry, though his smirk remained. "Isn't that interesting. And what would you like us to tell you about that?"

"You can start with what was in that 'silver bullet' of yours," Serris suggested.

"Unfortunately, you're asking the wrong men." Duke shrugged. "My partner's talents lie in architecture, and I'm more of an expert on the social sciences, myself. I've spent enough time with Countess to tell you the basics, but for a scientific explanation, you'd have to ask her herself. That was her greatest task, after all, not ours."

"That will do for now." Signas folded his arms. "Continue."

"The 'Silver Bullet' project was designed to find a way to deal with Sigma, permanently," Duke continued, his tone growing more serious now as he and Marquis both leaned against the wall next to the door, arms folded. "From the failure of every attempt at a cure, she realized that direct methods were likely to fail, and thus pursued a more subtle solution."

"Can't argue that one, I guess," Lassiter muttered under his breath.

"What was in that syringe was a program designed to induce a state of being similar to behavior observed commonly in Infected Mavericks over the years," Duke continued. "Specifically, when a Maverick takes injuries which are not immediately fatal, but which guarantee their demise nonetheless, within minutes."

"The Virus leaves 'em," Pitbull, of all people, explained in an unusually somber voice. "If you do it right, they don't have time to say anything... but you can see it in their eyes. Just for a little bit, before the end. If you don't do it right..." He trailed off.

"So this program was meant to artificially induce that state?" Lifesaver asked, frowning. "How is that different from purging him of the Virus?"

"Because the Virus wasn't purged at all," Duke explained. "Not even close. Countess figured that even if that worked, all it would do was drive Sigma from the body, leaving it an empty shell. His core consciousness is the Virus, by now. You can't have one without the other. What the 'Silver Bullet' was meant to do was to freeze the Virus' functions, temporarily. To paralyze it, for the space of a few moments, a minute at most. And because of Sigma's bond with the Virus, it stopped all of his mind's higher functions as well."

"All right, I think I followed that," Douglas said, though his voice was slightly uncertain. "I can't really see the point, though. So you stopped him in his tracks for a moment. He'd just keep going once it wore off, right?"

"Well." Duke made a face. "Not exactly. I might as well warn you, from this point on, her theory entered the abstract, more than a little. Specifically, the metaphysical."

"Most men and women of science prefer to avoid such things," Lifesaver pointed out, frowning slightly.

"And she is no exception," Marquis assured him. "But while of course we have no hard facts to prove ourselves, we of Mecha have seen certain things over the years that indicate that there is, in fact, more to existence than this world alone."

"We have seen... certain evidence to support that ourselves," Signas murmured, as most of the room's inhabitants looked at X, who remained silent. "Continue."

"Countess theorized, reluctantly, that when Sigma's body entered such a state, it would produce a reaction entirely unique to him," Duke explained, his eyes dark and serious now, without a trace of his earlier sarcasm. "In short, that his body would remain fully functional, but without a mind to direct it. From what we know, she concluded that the possibility was high that, in that state, his body would automatically seek to fill the void presented to it. To find a mind that belonged to it, to direct its actions. And that if it could not do so with what was at hand... it would recall what was lost, long ago. The mind that was his, before it left him, that he still subconsciously remembered."

"Are you honestly trying to tell us that that gave Sigma back his soul?" Lassiter demanded.

"Perhaps." Duke raised his hands and shrugged. "Countess preferred to put it a little differently. She described it as his mind's programming reverting to an early state of function, one preceding his infection, so that it would be able to override the Silver Bullet. That being said, don't get your hopes up. She admitted that even should it work, not only would he still remember all of his atrocities, but that as soon as the effect wore off, the Maverick Virus would regain contact with his mind. He remains your enemy and ours, the King of the Mavericks, all the same."

"Then what's the point?" Alia asked quietly, neither acceptance nor doubt in her eyes. "Why do it at all, if it wouldn't change anything?"

"But it did," Marquis said quietly, his smirk finally gone. "Sigma will doubt, now. The man who committed the worst atrocities the world has seen in nearly a hundred years, without so much as an ounce of hesitation, will no longer be able to do so. He will doubt, and over time, until he is killed once more, those doubts will only accumulate. Perhaps, by the time he is..." He fell silent.

"It's not much," Duke admitted. "Countess knew it, and worried that she'd failed. But it was the best she could do. And it was worth a shot."

"That's why I did it in the first place," X agreed quietly. "Because it was worth a shot. I suppose it still is." He glanced at Signas. "Let's move on. I trust that the two of you knew what King would propose to me, when I went to meet him? To the Hunters?"

"That we did," Marquis agreed, his smirk returning now.

"I think you'd better tell us just what this proposal is, X," Signas said quietly. "As much as we appreciate this gesture of goodwill, it's not quite enough to clear these gentlemen of suspicion."

"I was wondering when somebody was going to say it," Suzy muttered.

"What I want to know is, just how large of an organization are we dealing with, here?" Lassiter asked, folding his arms. "X, you went there. What did you see?"

"I saw a lot, Lassiter," X replied. "A great many things. As for military strength... their leadership consists of King, and the eight reploids serving directly under him. Aside from them, every other citizen of Mecha is a Robot Master, more than a third of which have risen to the intellectual level of a reploid through breaking either the Second or Third Law of Robotics, enhancing their mental state by doing so. I've seen the phenomenon before. More importantly, most, if not all of them, have also been upgraded to a reploid's combat level."

"There aren't many people out there, who can do that," Lifesaver murmured, looking intrigued by the mention of their psychology.

"No, there aren't." X shook his head. "I've only met two, maybe three, in all my life... and that was a long time ago. According to King, they number five hundred and forty such Robot Masters."

"That... could be a problem," Pitbull said slowly. "Especially if it's a fortified position."

"Oh, yeah." X glanced at Marquis. "It's fortified."

"It's so nice, when one's work is admired," the effeminate reploid murmured. "That being said, as flattering as it is to be thought of so highly, in the end, you gentlemen would of course be triumphant. Which is why we have gone to such efforts to arrange an alternate solution."

"Which is?" Signas asked again.

"A direct alliance," X told him, meeting his eyes. "Proposed by King himself. A treaty between the hidden city of Mecha, and the Maverick Hunters. He was very specific about that. He won't sign with the nation of Japan, but he will with us, assuming we'd agree to keep their secret."

"Even from the Japanese government?" Simon whistled. "That's... an interesting suggestion. I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"If the government found out..." Alia said quietly, shaking her head. "We'd be declared Maverick, on the spot."

"No we wouldn't," Pitbull growled. "Because that'd be suicide, and the government knows it. They need us, now more than ever. Still, best if they didn't. What I'm wondering is, just what's in this treaty for us."

"Direct assistance, in the field, should it be necessary," Duke told him, meeting his eyes calmly. "Only in case of an emergency, for obvious reasons, but should that emergency occur, our forces would be willing to support yours."

"Five hundred and forty additional troops, as a secret reserve, in case the world really does start to end?" Lassiter murmured. "I have to admit, that's a pretty tempting offer."

"It's a risky offer, is what it is," X said, and more than a few heads nodded in agreement. "But it's still worth considering. I think we should open negotiations."

"That much, we can agree on," Signas said, mind ablaze with a dozen conflicting thoughts, in a way it seldom was. "I take it Mecha will be willing to accommodate other visitors, now?"

"So long as it's done with the appropriate secrecy, and you don't try sending in an entire Unit?" Marquis drawled. "Perfectly acceptable."

"Then in return for your 'Silver Bullet,' I suppose we should return the gesture," Signas decided. "You are both free to go."

"While I'm sure Marquis would be all too glad to do so, I would prefer to decline," Duke told him. "As I said before, Countess had her sovereign duty, and I have mine. With your permission, I will remain, as Mecha's ambassador." He smiled. "I look forward to working with you."

"Very well," Signas agreed, despite his doubts, and nobody else objected either.

March 2, 2185, 3:00 PM

Mecha

"Margravine!" The Wood Man who led the District Nine Art Institute said cheerfully as his overseer and her partner walked in. He'd shed the bulky, log-shaped helmet his model normally came with, revealing a round, cheerful face with close-cropped hair the same pleasant color his armor had been repainted, that of a redwood tree. "Viscount! Good afternoon, both of you!"

"Afternoon, Red," Margravine replied, smiling, as did Viscount; the Robot Master had been one of the first in her district to awaken, and a good friend as well as a loyal citizen for decades now, which was why she'd appointed him to head up one of her favorite pet projects. "How's everything going, down here?"

"Well, it's been a bit hectic, what with our visitor and all," Red explained, stepping out from around the desk in his office. "Not all of the usuals are in right now, but that's to be expected. The ones that are seem to have been influenced by him."

"I imagine so," Viscount remarked. "Just make sure he doesn't find out he had that much of an impact. From what I hear, he's uncomfortable enough with being known as a hero. An upgrade to 'celebrity' might very well push him over the edge."

"I'm fairly certain it's only a passing phase," Red assured him. "He was something new and different, is all. That sort of thing has an effect on aspiring artists. Would you care to take a look at some of what they've produced?"

"That's what we're here for, isn't it?" Margravine winked. "Unless you'd prefer to talk about your records instead?"

"Ah," Red murmured, smiling sheepishly; although it was impossible for Robot Masters to sweat, she could almost see him doing so anyways. "Well, um, if you..."

"A joke, Red," Viscount said, and she could tell without looking that he'd be rolling his eyes. "By all means, show us the way."

"Of course!" He walked past them, out the door, and they followed him down the hall to the studio.

"Be nice," she murmured in her partner's ear as they walked. "Red's a good guy."

"By my standards, that was nice," he told her, just as quietly. "Besides, you were the one who started it."

"Like you said, it was a joke," she pointed out.

"And I appreciated it, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes." Now it was her turn to roll her eyes as they entered the main studio hall. A dozen Robot Masters were scattered throughout it, of all different models and modifications; some looked fresh off the assembly line, while others were practically unrecognizable with what they were wearing. Standing at easels or sitting in corners with sketchpads, working with plaster or clay or in one case even metal, they all turned to glance their way as the three of them walked in.

"As you were, gentlemen," Red told them, and they all turned back to their work. "We're just taking a look at what you've come up with."

"What he said." Margravine nodded, as she and Viscount began drifting around. The first painting she looked at was one of X, though only in the vaguest of terms; he was only a rough blur, barely detailed enough to tell that it was him. Far more effort had been put into drawing the Maverick he was facing, a hideous biological monstrosity out of a nightmare with more than one head located at various places on its otherwise roughly humanoid torso, none of which were human at all.

"Giger, right?" Viscount guessed at the inspiration.

"A bit obvious?" Heavy, the Gravity Man at the easel, asked wryly.

"A little," Margravine admitted, patting his shoulder. "Still, your technique's improving. Let me know when it's done, huh? I'd like to see the finished product." Next, the two of them drifted over to a corner where an Aqua Man named Burble was working on a sketchpad. "Mind if we take a look?"

"Uh, sure!" The diminutive Robot Master said cheerfully, only hesitating a moment before turning his sketchpad around. It was X again, this time a profile, his features finely detailed. Of course, the addition of a greasepaint mustache and a pair of heavy eyebrows, along with thick glasses and a smoking cigar, lent an entirely different look to him.

"Ha!" Viscount barked out, and Margravine had to chuckle as well.

"Okay, that's pretty good," she admitted.

"Not the most original idea in the world, I'll admit, but I couldn't resist once I thought of it," Burble explained.

"Keep having more of those kinds of thoughts," she told him as she and Viscount walked away. Next, they drifted over to a sculptor, who was still in the initial stages of his work. The humanoid figure was rough and undefined, but she already had a guess as to who it would be, as well as what the head-shaped lump underneath his foot would turn into after more work; he was posing heroically, one arm in the air. "Hm. Any particular school of thought behind this one?"

"Um..." Lunkhead, the Hard Man with the deliberately misleading name who was working on it, gave her a hopeful look. "Irony?"

"Heh." Viscount chuckled again.

"Nice try," she said, patting his arm. "Keep at it, all the same." Drifting over to another easel, they looked over the shoulders of the serious-looking Ice Man, and both of them whistled. "Hey, now. This is different." It was a highly stylized representation of a cabalistic Tree of Life, or more properly, a treeborg, one divided down the middle; the colors shifted variously along it, both of the tree itself and of the sky and ground around it. Some of the sephiroths showed the more prominent scenes of the history of Robot Masters, and others those of the reploids.

"I like it," Viscount said quietly, his usually sardonic voice openly intrigued now.

"Thank you," Polarstern, the Ice Man, said in a slight German accent; he'd lived in that country for nearly a century before they'd "recruited" him, and unlike the Guts Man they'd found there more recently, had adapted his voice to match those around him.

"It's different," Margravine repeated quietly, looking it over again. "Interesting." After another moment, she turned to give the painter a serious glance. "But is it art?"

"I'm not sure," he said after thinking it over; every eye in the room was on the three of them now. Eventually, he shook his head. "No. But I think it's getting there."

"Good answer," Viscount told him, as both of them smiled.

"When it's done, we'd like a print, if you don't mind," Margravine followed up as they turned away. "Framed, please, Red. And I think we'll show it to his Majesty, as well."

"You honor me, Margravine," Polarstern told her, bowing his head. "Um... can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she replied, as they paused in their tracks. "What is it?"

"Will there be more visitors to our city, from the outside world?" He asked; everybody else was still watching them.

"We can only hope," Viscount said, nodding slightly. "At the moment, we're attempting to reach an accord with the Maverick Hunters. We fully expect that many of them will be just as curious as Mega Man X."

"And..." Polarstern looked at his feet, his accent thickening slightly, though his tone remained level. "Some of them will be girls?"

For the first time in a very, very long time, Margravine found herself at a loss for words.

"That's a logical conclusion, yes," Viscount told them after a long pause of his own. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Viscount." Prince's voice came from a wall speaker, and they both glanced towards it, trying not to show their relief openly. "Margravine. Report to the Dark Hall immediately. Marquis has returned to Mecha."

"Well, it's about time," she said tartly, glad to have an excuse to change the subject. "We'd better get over there. Have a nice day, everybody."

"You too," Red replied; if she didn't know better, she'd have said he looked amused. Before she could think about that, though, Viscount was walking out, and she followed at his side. Only once they were out of the building and back on the street did they give each other a glance.

"Well," he said quietly. "I must admit, I didn't quite see that one coming, although I feel like I should have."

"Ditto," she agreed, shaking her head. "We'd better talk to some of the others. We might have to move up a certain aspect of our plans, to prevent... complications, down the line."

"I don't quite think the Maverick Hunters would be willing to allow it, unfortunately," he pointed out, shaking his head. "That's a bit much."

"Point." She sighed. "After the meeting, shall we see about that bottle of scotch?"

"An excellent suggestion." He nodded, and they both fell silent as they continued quickly through the streets to the Kingdome. Entering, they made their way to the Dark Hall, and found the rest of the group already assembled, save for Duke. Marquis was leaning back in his chair, his usual insolent smirk on his face; if he'd found the rigors of captivity to be at all unpleasant, he showed no signs of it.

"We were wondering when you were going to get back," Margravine addressed him lightly as the two of them took their seats. "Did it take the Hunters this long to release you?"

"Hardly." He sniffed. "While I was up there, I decided to take a couple of hours and enjoy myself in Tokyo. A crime of which, of course, the two of you remain entirely innocent of during any of your own excursions to the world above. Besides, I don't think you're in any position to lecture me on timeliness at the moment, are you? What were you doing?"

"Taking a look at how one of her art institutes is going," Viscount answered, unusually bluntly. "They're coming along, but it seems there's been a certain development we didn't quite expect."

"Dare I ask?" Prince raised an eyebrow.

"They want girlfriends," Margravine told him flatly, and everybody at the table fell silent for a few moments.

Earl said something crude.

"Ha!" A bark of laughter rang through the hall at that, and everybody looked up at the viewing gallery overhead. It was a woman's voice, one with a thick Irish brogue, one that became even more apparent as she continued. "I was wonderin' when that'd start. Suppose the two of us had best watch out for secret admirers."

"I'm fairly sure even the Unawakened know better than that," another woman pointed out, her accent just as strong, a British one in her case, and her voice just as amused. "Still, that's an interesting development, isn't it?"

"'Interesting' is a good word for it, all right," Viscount muttered, crossing his arms on the table and sinking his face into them. "In the ancient Chinese sense."

"As fascinating as it is, we have more important matters to discuss," Countess said, glancing at Marquis.

"Indeed we do," King agreed, doing the same; he was the only one whose face had remained calm despite what Magravine had said. "Report, Marquis."

"From what I gathered when we met with them, they're giving serious consideration to our proposal," he explained, serious now. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's a certainty, but they're definitely interested. X most of all, despite how cold he tried to act. And their Commanding Officer, as well. I'd say the odds are in our favor. Duke certainly seemed to think so."

"How long would you say it will take before they come to a conclusion, then?" Prince asked.

"At least forty-eight hours, minimum," Marquis said after a moment's thought. "Probably no more than a week, at most."

"Will matters escalate, before then?" Prince asked, frowning.

"Not if the Silver Bullet worked," Countess replied, looking tense. "Did they say anything about that?"

"Oh, my, yes." Marquis smiled slightly again. "I didn't get to watch the footage myself, but from what they said, it must have been quite spectacular. They grilled us on that, even before they moved on to the treaty. If they agree, then once we start getting visitors, I'm sure some of them will want to talk to you about it, in detail."

"It is out of our hands, at the moment, then," King decided. "We will operate on the assumption that the Hunters will agree to the treaty, and that Sigma will remain quiet for some time. Long enough to allow us to prepare for what lies ahead."

"We didn't tell X everything," Prince observed quietly, a simple statement of fact without opinion or judgment. "Not even close."

"No, we did not," King agreed, closing his eyes. "We could not. For while I admire the Maverick Hunters, and the work they do, our first priority must be our own preservation. Our responsibility is to our people, before theirs. I dislike even lies of omission, but in this matter, we had no choice." He twitched then, seemingly involuntarily, as a bizarre effect began to appear on his bright orange armor. Starting on one hand, a wave of purple color began to advance up his left arm, spreading like spilled liquid.

"Your Majesty!" Countess said, eyes widening. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," King grunted, face screwed up in concentration, and the purple contamination paused before retreating again, giving way to his armor's normal orange coloration. After a few moments, it was gone once more, and he opened his eyes again. "My apologies. I allowed my stress to gain control of me, for a moment."

"There is nothing to apologize for, your majesty," Prince assured him, and they all nodded, even Earl. "I doubt that any of us would be able to bear your burden at all, let alone for so long."

"I am not so sure." King shook his head slowly. "Regardless, our course of action remains the same. For the sake of our citizenry, for their survival and ours... the time is soon coming when we will be forced to take action."

"To take up arms," Margravine said quietly.

"It will be necessary." King nodded. "Once the truths which we have not yet revealed to the Maverick Hunters come to light... yes. Instruct the citizens to prepare, but to do so quietly, and subtly. I do not doubt that some of our visitors will be inspectors, to assess our threat level. They must not learn of what we intend, until the time comes. A time which will come all too soon, I fear."

"So do we all, your Majesty," Viscount agreed, shaking his head slowly as he took Margravine's hand in his, and they both tightened their grip. "So do we all."

Soon, all too soon... the time would come for Mecha to go to war.