Alright. Back on track. Finally. As you may have noticed, I got rid of the crimson club chapters and am replacing them. I didn't like them, and they didn't seem to fit or be necessary. And frankly, they were kind of stupid, so they're gone. Scratched away. That done, here's the new Chapter 11. Read, review, enjoy. And my most profound apologies to faithful readers (are there any left?)


It took him three weeks to get all of his paperwork done, and would have taken only one if he hadn't resumed his normal schedule of goof off. However, he did enjoy actually being able to see his desk- and chairs, and carpet. Red, Zero thought in amusement, admiring the paper-free, burgandy-red carpet, and mahogany desk, I'd forgotten it was red. He considered trying to keep up with his work, but decided he'd be better off with a secretary. He grinned at his own folly- him, a secretary! Now that was an amusing thought. What with Signas not-so-happy at him, any perks he might could request under normal circumstances would have to be put on hold. He pulled the door shut and started down the hall to the hanger, whistling cheerfully about his return to the field.

Atra hummed softly, looking down on the Maverick squad that was patrolling a good distance from their base. Unlike Zero's whistling, though her tune cheered her remarkably, she hummed a funeral march. It seemed to fit the scene, and her mood regarding Mavericks. Any sympathies she'd had towards them had died when she got her status scans back three weeks before. She fiddled with the idea of setting a Maverick up in such a display and leaving it outside Sigma's window, then discarded the idea as beneath her. If she were going to do anyone like that, it would be Sigma himself who hung, not some lesser general. She waited, looking for the perfect opportunity to announce that she was back. While she'd done a few sneak attacks--striking in the middle of the night and flitting away before they knew she'd been there--she hadn't launched a single strike that would decree, "I am Death, I am Immortal. Now learn FEAR." And that was the message she wanted them to get. Each and every one of them would die before she returned to the quiet confines of her father's lab. Would die before she slipped back into the darkness of sleep where she could remain until the maddened cries of rebellion called her forth again.
Her smile was wolfish and hard, icy in the rainfall that rolled off her in unnoticed rivers. Others would have found the rain at least an annoyance, limiting vision and making work harder, and many did, but Atra dismissed it as unimportant. Everything was unimportant beyond the limits of the Rebellion. When they were dead, she could sleep again. That was the end of it. That would be the end of it.
Her humming stopped as a flicker of crimson caught her eye: Hunters. Nuisances. Falling into the trap so neatly laid for them two days ago by their own prey. Let them. As long as they did not interfere with her, they could do as they liked. The flash of crimson showed a flicker of gold: The First. She dismissed him for the moment; he could be dealt with later. Once the Rebellion was done.

Zero looked around, still mounted on his bike. "The call came from somewhere around here," He commented, his voice carrying easily to the members of his squad. "Look around. Go in pairs, no lone wolfing it." He ordered, slowly dismounting as he looked around.
"What about you, sir?" someone asked.
"I'm the commander; I'm allowed to disobey myself." He replied. "Besides, there aren't enough people for all of us to pair off." He flashed them a grin and wandered off in a direction, alert for trouble.
"Something I'm sure he did on purpose," Ashlyn muttered to the man who'd brought it up in the first place. He nodded and they started their own inspection in a different direction. Slowly the other hunters did the same, quietly fading into the trees.

She waited, counting the minutes until the madmen struck at the scattered squad. Five… Four…Three… Two… One.. She listened for the howl, and heard it right on cue, followed by shocked and outraged yells. She crouched, one hand touching the ledge on which she perched, just out of range of the scanners. Her eyes were calm as she surveyed the ebb and flow of this skirmish. Scattered units, frantically attempting to hold their own against a tide of mavericks, were driven back, barely succeeding in blocking the innumerable attacks. She saw the flash of green that was the First's blade, flaming its master's rage at the attack. She could not see what became of those who assaulted him, there were to many trees for that to be clear, but she could hear it, and it was music to her ears.
He emerged from beneath the cover of the leaves, the falling water washing robotic blood from his armor and blood-mist from around his blade and making his hair hang as limply as her own. No one exited behind him, or lifted a glowing blade for a final plunge, testifying that he had eradicated those who dared strike at him. His eyes, she knew, surveyed the scene with the burning blue flames of anger. When he moved, it was with the same speed that she employed in any assault. When his blade flicked, it was as graceful and as lethal as any of her own strikes. Despairing howls tore from the maverick ranks. They had not planned for this; they had not thought of what an angry Omega was capable of.

Atra smiled a chilly smile, jumping from her post as she saw the reserves come charging from hiding, glows beginning at the mouths of their guns, plasma blades arcing into life. Lightning flashed in the distance, its thunder growling across the field. She landed silently, with a black cat's midnight grace. Mavericks flicked gazes in her direction, in the direction of the unexpected movement, preparing for some new assault. Many of them froze and fell as the Hunter's continued to fight. Blue-black light radiated in cold swirls from her blade. Water burst into steam as it neared the sword, hissing and adding an air of mystique as it swirled around the blade and twined around the Dark Omega. They had not counted on her, either. She lunged forward, the steam dispersing with her motion, flicking her blade. Red-eyed madmen, their taint unbearable this close and in such numbers, fell back and down, some retreating in a thinly disguised rout, others dying, sparking blue, silver and gold from injuries. Sparks that greedily jumped to the nearest maverick and clung, crawling over metal armor like living things. Hunters smiled in relief, they were that glad of assistance. The First ignored her, the fiery strikes of his humming green blade exacting a frightful toll on the rebellious forces. She accepted that and dismissed it from her thoughts. The First could be dealt with later. She cut quickly, driving into the maverick forces until she was surrounded. Now she did not have to watch who she killed.
A Norse Valkyrie, Damion had called her, applying the term for her beauty, skill, and grace in graceless battle. It applied then and now, as she turned, blade rising to block and twisting to strike, silvery droplets flinging from her long, dark hair as it followed her motion, revealing, briefly, the black and gold 'II' on her neck. Each motion was incredibly swift, there and done in the blink of an eye, and yet still they seemed unhurried, as though Time itself had to slow its unending trek to watch. On the field of battle, she was almost unmatched; in Death's dance, she danced alone.

Zero ducked aside from a crimson blade, eyes blazing his wrath. His own blade cut back towards his foe, slow with the same impossible speed, dividing a maverick at the waist. He turned, following the battle-dictated steps of the dance, shedding water as he moved, shedding blood with the art of war. Red eyes watched him in awe and fear and anticipation. This was a warrior they knew. This was the closest they had ever seen the Hunter Zero to his maverick self. If only they could take him… Even Neo-Omega would have to bow her head for execution then, if he returned to them.
Green fire tore through metal, shearing through opponents as swiftly as Death could reap. He was almost maverick, but far enough distant that the mavericks, not humans or hunters, were the target of his brutal assault.

At last, their forces depleted tremendously by the cold fire of Neo-Omega, and the hot rage of Zero, the mavericks retreated, vanishing in narrow beams of light. Panting, disbelieving, the Hunters gazed warily around. For people who had only intended to drag as many foe-men as possible with them into death, they were remarkably, miraculously, alive. Atra smirked, tossing rain-soaked hair over her shoulder to hang properly at her back, flicking her hissing blade through the falling water. Her eyes lingered on the Hunters, on their teams, the dead, and then, lastly, on the First himself, who stood apart, breathing deeply. His eyes stared almost blankly at the dead, and he looked as though he expected to be attacked again. He relaxed, slowly, as his breath returned to normal, and turned to find the unfathomable gaze of Neo-Omega on him, eyes unreadable, invisible in the shadows of her black helm. She smiled, smirking almost, and vanished as only she could. No fancy colored light, no digital sounding sounds, only a flicker in their vision, a rustle of wind and rain, and she was gone, as if she had never been.


Well, if anyone is still looking at this, it isn't really set at any specific point in the MegaMan universe. It's more I took the world and the characters and such, and put them in a new universe. If game continuity is what someone's looking for, this is probably not the story that they want to read. But it's a story. And it's moving again.
And just assume I said all the neat disclaimer stuff.