Chapter 7:

14:30:34

Six knew he had 14 hours, and that was more than enough. He was about to the thigh of the technological beast. His katanas screeched as they sliced through the metal, pulling Six up. Six was but a mortal man, which suprised a few people. He still felt exhasted-for almost an entire day he had been fighting and running non-stop. Yet, he was still ashamed when he heard himself give a grunt of pain. He had never let himself ever before. But he didn't pause, pausing was out of the question. Screech. Another slice against the metal. Another pain staking pull forward. Six glanced down at the ground, the sun's glare whipping across his shades. He was up high-approximately...3 miles high. He glanced up, and the glare slid in the other direction. And about 5 to go. Six shook his head and pressed forward. Screech. Six wondered idly if you could be dissapointed in someone who had no control of thier actions. Probably not. It might interfere with some moral belief. But soon Rex would be his "normal" self. And they would have a long talk about sneaking out in genral, and sneaking away while a dangerous hacker was ripping away your selfcontrol-even though Rex had little in the first place. All serious talks and trouble, that's what Rex would get. But first, they had to save him. Six pulled out sword, and thrust it in a little higher, pulling himself up.

14:14:08

(Providence)

"Prepare the equitment needed to Bleach."

"Sir, Dr. Holiday and Agent Six have more than enough time, and they are on site with the cure and transportation," reported and grunt.

"What made you think that was a matter up for debate?" White Knight asked, his eyes becoming slits.

"Nothing, Sir. Sorry, Sir." The grunt replied, already sending an alert to the weapons room.

"Good, because I would hate for you to have to be relieved of duty so you could go back to school and learn proper sentence structure. Let's hope that that wasn't an accurate representation of your intelligence," White Knight said coldly, vanishing from the screen.

The grunt was glad he was wearing the face mask over his head, because he was sure his emotions had been clear. But, he was a lower level soldier, and it wasn't his place to form an opinion on such high and pending matters.

"Weapons, did you get the message?" The grunt asked, switching his communicator to the correct frequency.

"Message recieved," answered a voice.

"Over and out," the grunt said, turning off his communicator.

(The Pack)

Van Kliess was staying in a small surburban area that had been recently abandoned. He knew that Rex would be cured very shortly, and he relaxed a bit in a recliner. Biowulf was leaning over a tanle, running his claws over the once-nice expensive wood. Breach was leaning against a wall, her head down. Skalamandor looked uncomterable, fitting like a forced puzzle piece in the cushy couch, his small legs barely sweeping the ground. And Claws was sharpining his long knife like claws on a wooden collum in the house, snarling ocasionaly. His deep and aggresive breathing was one of the main sounds in the room.

Van Kliess extended his golden claws, moving the needle finger tips along the soft material of the chair, slowly tearing under the patterned cover. His mind was occupied with thoughts of how exactly to get Rex.

If Rex's mind was intact (a highly improbable notion) , than Van Kliess would have to over power the boy, or atleast subdue him, and push him into a hasty portle conjured by Breach.

If Rex was unconcious, than they could simply fade into a portle.

If Rex was concious, but out of it, he still may fight-which would end more or less like the first possibility.

But that was just Rex. All of Providence would fight for the boy...but that hardly counted-save Six.

And Caesar, possibly. But Van Kliess was still debating whether or not the scientist would be allowed to would never willingly help Van Kliess, but Rex's life was a good bargining chip-somthing that even Caesar's brilliant mind couldn't protect him from. But that brilliant mind could create amazing things. It had created the nanites. It had created a highly intelligent computer that was self aware-ZAG-RS.

So, Van Kliess decided, if Caesar would happen to intrude, he would take him as well. Kill him later if he didn't work out...Or make an EVO. Whatever suited him best at the time.

Van Kliess gazed down lovingly at his golden hand. The power to create EVO's was changing his whole outlook on life. Anyone could be his personal soldier, anyone under his control and leadership.

(Holiday and Caesar)

"Spread out! No one shoot until neccisary! No one!" Holiday ordered over the communicator

"Caesar, is the cure ready to broad cast?" Holiday asked. The tension from thier last conversation had faded.

"It is-all systems online. But where is Agent Six? He needs to be on the head."

"Six?" Holiday asked, her hand flying to her communicator.

"Holiday?" He sounded strained, but controlled.

"What's your position?" she asked Six.

"Shoulder." He answered, "I am finnaly able to stand."

"Good, that's good. How long until you reach the head?" Holiday asked, her elation at the how fast this had happened begging to seep through her words.

"Approximately ten minutes. How much time?" he asked, the sound of his running and juimping feet background to his question.

"13:16:09" She said, reading her clock. She felt another jolt of joy burst into her.

"Report in 6 minutes." Six promised, his line dying.

Holiday dropped her hand, and looked at Caesar.

He was leaned over the device, ear phones over his head. He thick black hair spiking out like grass growing over cemet under the head phones. He held the small white oval piece in his hand, and it was connected to a laptop on the ground. Or, in this case the cieling, as they were on a roof top.

"Holiday?" Six sounded in her ear. Six mintues already?

"Yes."

"I'm at the head." He said.

"Got it. We have almost done it Six!" She couldn't help leaving out.

She turned to Ceasar.

"Send the command, we are ready."

Caesar nodded, and sent the command.

Far off, they heard a distant roar.

"Turn on the Rex Cam!" Holiday said, and Caesar turned on a camera with a live feed running from a Providence helicopter folowing Rex from a safe distance.

On screen, the saw the machine with its one real "hand" grip painfully at its head, swatting it.

Worry shot through Holiday.

"Six?" she almst hollored, her communicator still on his frequency.

Nothing answered her reply but faint static.