Disclaimer: I do not own Wild ARMS 5.
Author's Note: This story was a collaboration between myself and Vinsfeld123. He usually did most of the writing, while I would come up with the story, point out various errors, help keep the story/game facts straight, and think of dialogue, while also making sure his character dialogue and actions were not out-of-character. The input we each had varies from chapter to chapter. He has since decided to stop writing it, and we have drifted apart, so I am taking his suggestion and finding someone else to help me finish it. The first seventeen chapters are going to be the ones me and him worked on together, while the ones after that will be the work of me and another person. In this chapter, both myself and Vinsfeld did the writing, and I handled the editing and gave some major plot ideas. As always, there were some errors I could not convince him to change. Also, I fixed some grammar errors that made the story hard to read before.
Please read and review!
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Chapter Nine
The man in black stared unceasingly at the exit of the cave, as if hypnotized by Bartholomew's words. The name William sent a flaming arrow of fear through his heart, one that would not easily be removed. He had not heard that name in a very long time.
It was then that the image of a man appeared. The man was tall, he wore a white lab coat, he had his glasses down near the end of his nose, and he had red eyes. His hair was white, parted in the middle to the side. He looked at the man in black and said, "So…it would seem you underestimated them."
The man in black looked at the image, no longer hypnotized, and stood up. "Weston…" he announced, a slightly fearful tone in his voice.
The man he had called Weston nodded and pushed his glasses up to the top of his nose, framing his eyes. "You did not expect him to mention William, did you?"
"No. And on top of that, Weston, he stepped on my Longhorn Nova. Who knows how many delicate parts he damaged with such a brute, rapscallion action? Once again you did not warn me. I'm starting to wonder if you're really on my side; if I can truly call you my confidant."
The image began to become a bit static, "N-nonsense. Of course I am y-your confidant. And if I were not on your side, then I would n-not have s-stuck with you t-t-this far."
"What's happened to your astral projector?" The man in black asked Weston.
Weston gave him an odd look, "Whatever do you mean?"
"The image is becoming static-like and you're stumbling over your words."
"How odd… I was sure it was perfect. There isn't much more I can do to improve it, you know." Weston replied. "And as for Longhorn Nova, I trust you want more power, do you not?"
The man in black nodded, "I need more power if I am to defeat them."
"Was the 'Nova Decimator', with enough firepower to rival the ferocity of 1,000 demons, not enough to fulfill your desire? Shall I ask Vinchezna for more?" Weston asked, sliding his glasses up.
"It appears that firepower is not enough to defeat them. I will have to break their bonds, and their spirit. That is a power that I cannot obtain by Vinchezna's hand." The man in black responded.
Weston laughed, "I assure you, there is nothing Vinchezna can't do. If it is more power you want, I shall ask him to create a new cartridge. And, of course, my scientific prowess should be more than enough to supply him with the research he needs to do so."
"Indeed, Weston, you are unrivaled when it comes to the field of scientific innovation." The man in black replied.
Weston grinned, "And don't you forget it." He replied, with a nod. "As for Dr. Victoria, the man I asked to ensure the child dies, he has failed and I will ensure he is taken to Illsveil for his arrogance and incompetence."
The man in black nodded. "I agree, he is just going to complicate things with his hatred. Illsveil may be too harsh a sentence, however."
"Oh I don't know about that," Weston said, with a slight inflection at the end of his sentence, "I believe its just harsh enough." He continued, with a grin, "After all, he did commit attempted murder." He ended, with a guffaw.
"So he failed to comply with our wishes, and we are selling him out. That isn't very admirable, Weston."
"Have I earned your disfavor?"
"No… but I do think you should think a bit more rationally at times." The man in black replied.
Weston slid his glasses up, "I shall c-c-consider it." He said, the image becoming static once more.
"I'm glad you took my opinion." The man in black replied, "Usually when I tell you something, you decline and supply a haphazard reason for doing so."
"I apologize for my closed-minded-ness. It's just…when I am so deep in my research…"
"I understand, Weston. You need not apologize for your actions."
Weston nodded, and bowed.
The man in black stared at the ground, thinking about what Bartholomew had said. He turned back to Weston, "Weston," he began, "am I doing the right thing?"
"Of course you are, my friend," Weston replied, sliding his glasses up. "Are you all right? It is unlike you to doubt your actions. Are you ill? Shall I send for a medic?"
"No," the man in black said, shaking his head. "I am perfectly fine, Weston. I just needed reassurance."
"And I will always be here to offer your reassurance," Weston replied.
"Indeed. You have been here since my parents died, and I left the Locus Solus. I wouldn't expect you to abandon me now," the man in black replied.
"And I wouldn't dream of it." Weston replied. "I will continue supporting you until you force both races into submission, until the very end."
The man in black nodded in agreement. "Shall I pursue them to Honeysday?"
"No. Come back to my lab, so we can upgrade your Longhorn Nova." Weston replied.
"Understood."
"And not a minute too soon, for the astral projector has reached its limits. I wish to see you soon, my friend." Weston said, and his image vanished.
The man in black nodded, and wondered. Weston spoke of Vinchezna. Vinchezna was a well-known Veruni soldier, and in times of war, a fierce general. He was a man to be reckoned with, and the man in black did not trust him at all. He did, however, trust Weston, for Weston had been his best friend for almost twenty years, perhaps more. Vinchezna was certainly a shady character, and the man in black feared any involvement whatsoever by his hand.
"I really do wonder…am I doing the right thing? Weston…" he said, staring at the ground, and then shook his head. "Of course I am. How could I think so foolishly? Force is the only way to establish the bridge between the two races, and those who oppose me will be greeted with a blade in their chest and a shot in the heart from my Longhorn Nova, the tool that will be used to shape the world."
Realizing his current standing on his goal, the man in black walked quickly, and exited the Starlit Cave.
Weston stood on the large, glass floor in his laboratory with red streaks running across its floor. He adjusted his glasses and studiously looked at the large sliding door at the south end of the platform he stood on, as if waiting for someone.
A man walked in just then, clothed in a green leather uniform jacket, with pants to match, and boots to match as well. He wore an odd necklace around his neck, which was shaped a bit like a sword, perhaps to symbolize his ferocity. Covering his head was green hair to match his clothes, with green gloves on his hands.
The man walked forward towards Weston, and across the bridge connecting the door with the large platform.
"Vinchezna," Weston identified.
"What is it, Weston? You know I do not like to be called to this place unless it is direly important," Vinchezna stated, with an unhappy smile.
"It is about the experimental war weapon AKA "nuke". Codename: Longhorn Nova." Weston replied, sliding his glasses up.
"Ah. What about it? Are the modifications made to it not to your satisfaction?" He stated, easing his unhappy smile into a straight face and crossing his arms.
"No, they are fine, but… the 'SS: Nova Decimator' is not powerful enough. We need a 'TS'." Weston said.
"A 'TS'? As in, a 'Third Shot'?" Vinchezna asked, the anger rising in his voice, his face quickly turning back into the unhappy one.
"Indeed. With minor calibrations, we should have a new cartridge ready by the time he arrives." Weston responded, sliding his glasses up.
"He is coming here?" Vinchezna asked.
"Yes," he replied.
"…"
"Is something the matter, Vinchezna?"
"No." Vinchezna replied, disrespectfully. "It just really upsets me that, even with the 'SS', he couldn't complete the goal he has. And after I worked so hard on it, too. He will certainly feel my wrath."
"Your wrath?"
"Yes. My wrath. Do you have a problem with that, Weston? If you do, it doesn't matter, I won't pay attention to it." Vinchezna said, with a slight chuckle.
Weston ignored that comment. "In any case, I believe the 'TS' should be designed to shatter the spirit as well as deplete the will to fight."
"You mean, inducing a 'NE Zone'?" Vinchezna asked, with another chuckle.
"Yes, an 'NE Zone' of sorts, I suppose. Is there one able to be created that is suited to that task?" Weston wondered.
"Hmm… I would have to check the schemata, but I believe there is one that would be perfect for such a task. Of course you know, Weston, no, Dr. Carlyle, that 'NE Zones' were ruled strictly forbidden. If you use it, the Veruni higher-ups may interfere."
"…" Weston looked at him intently, "Of course I know that. This is a necessary addition in order to accomplish his goal."
"If you say so." Vinchezna said, with a shrug, "Of course, I do not care either way, as long as blood is to be shed."
"…"
"What?"
"Nothing…"
"Good."
"…"
"In any case," Vinchezna stated, uncrossing his arms, "I'll begin work on the 'NE Zone' immediately. Until then, Dr. Weston Carlyle."
"…until then, Dominique Vinchezna." Weston replied.
Vinchezna let out a loud laugh, and walked back across the bridge and out of the room.
Weston was silent. All he did was slide his glasses up, and walked out of the room through an exit in the back.
"Finally! We're out of that cave!" Bartholomew said, relieved. He sat down outside the cave, next to a rock and laid Fereydoon on the grass. "I need to rest."
Volsung concentrated on Fereydoon, with tears in his eyes. "Will he be okay?"
Bartholomew glanced from Volsung to Fereydoon and laughed, "Him? Of course! He's tough as nails!"
Volsung glared at Bartholomew. "You aren't taking this seriously, are you?"
"I'm just trying to hide my sorrow with humor." Bartholomew smiled.
Volsung sat down across from Bartholomew, next to Fereydoon. "Thank you…for helping me. You didn't have to do that. In fact, you didn't have to do any of this. Why are you being so helpful?"
Bartholomew nudged at Fereydoon. "He asked me that already. I'm helping you two because I admire your goal. Not to mention, of course, you remind me of a younger version of myself." He reasoned, with a smile.
"You mean you were hated, and tortured, and poisoned, and constantly had someone trying to kill you the entire time you were a child?"
"No, but I did believe that one day the two races would grow to like each other…" he stated, lying through his teeth. Of course Bartholomew knew this wasn't the real reason he was helping Volsung and Fereydoon.
Volsung raised his eyebrow. "I see…"
"So you came from Twelbit?"
Volsung nodded.
"That's a long ways away from here, Volsung. He already explained to me that the two of you were forced out of your home. I want to hear your version of it."
Volsung now hung his head low, towards the ground, his eyes filling with tears. "I am a half-breed, born of a human mother and a Veruni father. Everyone in Twelbit made fun of me for my beliefs, that I would one day unite the races. It wasn't bad at first, a few shoves, and a kick in the shin every now and then, but then, it gradually became worse. My father one day went on a difficult journey to Harmonde to gather herbs and supplies for our family."
"Why couldn't you buy them from Twelbit?"
"…they wouldn't sell to us, because we were a disgrace." Volsung said, tears pouring down his cheeks.
"…I…see…" Bartholomew replied, full of sorrow.
"…anyway…my father never returned. He was attacked and killed by monsters near Harmonde… and later, my mother died of a broken heart, and stress. I was alone…confused…and didn't know what to do. For days I wandered Twelbit, wondering what I was to do, and then, I met Fereydoon… he was a kind-hearted soul. He wanted what I wanted, the races to be united, so of course, we instantly got along."
"So…why were you forced out of Twelbit?"
"…because I was a half-breed. It started by the villagers trying to exile me, and then
Fereydoon intervened. I believe Fereydoon made it worse, but that sounds disrespectful. I truly appreciate what he did. We fled from them, into Rygs Mansion. We stayed there for the remainder of the day, until at around 9:00 pm, when the villagers assaulted the mansion, and kidnapped me. They attempted to burn me at the stake, and when Fereydoon rescued me, attempted to impale me with pitchforks. We fled from Twelbit, and got on the train to Laila Belle, seeking a doctor. The man in black showed up, shot the conductor, and blew up the train, which crashed into the mountain causing a large landslide,"
"He seems to have a knack for creating explosions." Bartholomew joked, with a smile.
"…" Volsung tried to laugh, but he just could not.
"…I'm sorry." Bartholomew apologized.
Volsung continued, "…and that's when we met you, at Laila Belle."
"Wow…I never realized the two of you had it so difficult…" he lied once more.
"…yeah…" Volsung replied, solemnly. He stood up and sighed, "…we should hurry to Honeysday. The sun will be up soon, and I would like to sleep…"
"Wait." Bartholomew said, and stood up.
Volsung looked at him, "What…?" he said, through tears.
Bartholomew walked over to him and gave him a great hug. Volsung stared at him oddly. "You don't have to brave that anymore… I'm here now, and I won't let it happen again." Bartholomew said.
Volsung stopped crying and nodded. "…thank you."
Bartholomew smiled, picking up Fereydoon. He nodded, "Let's go, then."
Volsung walked down the path leading to Honeysday, wondering what the world had in store for him next. He wondered if he would be tortured, or beaten, or thrown into a river to drown. Maybe another explosion would happen, taking his life.
As they walked, Bartholomew noticed something odd about Volsung. He seemed almost angry at Fereydoon for interfering. He wasn't sure what it was about the two of them, but the relationship they had did not seem like one of true friendship, it seemed like one of duty.
It was then that Volsung had realized Fereydoon was no longer his friend. He was his servant. Bartholomew was his friend.
