[Warning: (For anyone who might be randomly reading this chapter without reading any of the others). There are two OCs this episode. The first we've seen before, but I'm bringing him back because I needed to use his brain as a plot device. He won't be in any more chapters, I promise. The second is purely for a POV shift and won't be seen again either. Yet, I give them names. Why?]
Episode Fourteen
Victorious—Every Fool Suffers Failure
"Zoid battles are competitions held on enormous battlefields,"
He dreamt of his victory over Vega and the Berserk Fury. The feel of the sun and the wind through his hair were exact, even the sharp smell of metal was sharp in his nostrils.
It gave him the urge to sneeze.
Bit woke with a start, sitting up quickly and covering his face with a hand as he ACHOO-ed loudly. When he pulled his limb away however, he noticed it was covered in a poofy white substance. In fact, it was all over his body. A swift lick of his lips proved it to be whipped cream.
A feminine giggle pulled his attention to the side where Leena, clad in her small green pajamas, held a feather and smiled mirthfully. She picked up a can of whipped cream and squirted some into her mouth, swallowing with a satisfied wink. "Happy Fool's Day, Bit."
"Ecstatic. I feel like a marshmallow threw up on me."
She laughed heartily, louder even when he reached up to wipe his hands on her cheeks. She caught his wrist between her teeth and licked off a good-sized dollop.
"Kinky."
She grinned. "It was supposed to be the classic whipped cream in the hand and the feather on your nose, but you sleep like a rock."
"Why haven't I learned to keep my door locked?" He griped, but the chuckle in his voice let her off the hook. "I hope you didn't use all the hot water too."
"You wound me." She exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. "Hurry with your shower; I need your help getting Jamie before he wakes up."
"Ugh, even the kid isn't awake. Just how early is it?"
"You don't want to know."
Bit pouted, and swung himself out of bed. As he gathered various accouterments, he turned to raise an eyebrow at the girl whose ankles were now propped on his pillow and was squirting whipping cream into her mouth lackadaisically. "Don't you have a prank to begin preparing?"
Her pink lips popped open in an 'o'; proof that she was thinking of a quick-fire lie. Before she had the chance, he swept her chair up and deposited her outside, locking his door behind them. "I've been fooled quite enough for one day, thank you."
Giggling, she conceded defeat and followed him towards the lounge, watching the poofy treat slide down his arms and legs. As Bit left for the shared bathroom, Leena bustled into the kitchen, gathering Ziploc bags and the ice trays she had prepared the night before. Popping out each of the ice cubes left her fingers red with cold, but she knew it would be worth it in the end. By the time she had divided the cubes into the bags and sealed them, Bit had returned, and she deposited the load into his arms.
Leena scampered toward the sleeping quarters, pausing only to allow her friend to toss his things into his room. Upon reaching the mechanical door outside of the young aviator's bedroom, Leena held a finger to her lips and activated the manual override—sliding the door open a fraction with a small grunt.
Jamie had his blinds pulled down, but the lack of light seeping through proved that the sun had yet to rise. Stealthily, Leena arranged the cold bags underneath the boy's covers and pillow, and then slipped into his closet. After a moments thought, she reopened the closet door and peered at Bit, who was standing amidst the dimly lit room with his hands propped on his hips and giving her a look.
Rolling her eyes, the redhead tiptoed forward, tugging his ear down to her mouth. "Get under his bed…and rattle it."
"And you'll be?"
"Practicing my ghostly moans."
She backed a step away, but he swung her forward to press their bodies together. His hand on her back, still chilled from the ice, made her shiver. He whispered, "I think you're enjoying this a little too much." Then he moved away, and his pupils, dilated in the dark, smirked at her as he rolled underneath wooden framework.
—
"And the Wild Eagle has beat the record for the fastest speed ever reached, folks!"
Jamie smirked, raising the volume on the announcer coming through on the radio. He dove low, flying over the heads of his fans as a bow.
"Wild Eagle, Wild Eagle, how does it feel?"
The youth switched the transponder so he could reply, but he heard a loud crackling through his comm-link, unlike the usual silence. Then his jet started shaking, vibrating, jostling him around in his seat. "What's—"
"—going on!" He cried, sitting awake in his bed. His entire room shook wildly, and a strobe light disoriented him while eerie music raised goosebumps on his arms. He was the Wild Eagle, he reminded himself. I'm brave.
A ghostly echo surrounded him, and he could have sworn he felt the room get colder. Then he remembered that he was Jamie. So he shrieked, "G-g-ghost!" leapt from his covers, and ran like a bat out of hell.
Moments later Bit and Leena slipped from their respective hiding spots, laughing hysterically.
"Let's go explain before he hurts himself."
When the two finally caught up to him, the boy was hidden beneath a blanket next to his snoring father. Since their female firecracker was unable to cease snorting in hilarity, the fiasco that followed easily woke Oscar and eventually Dr. Toros as well.
Face still framed by the plush red blanket, Jamie frowned at his teammates. "I hate you both."
"Aw, Jamie, it's just Fool's Day." Bit reasoned plaintively.
Leena grinned, wrapping her arm around the younger boy. "No harm done, right? Besides, you're lucky to not be covered in sticky, white—"
Dr. Toros choked on his drink and Oscar pounded him on the back, laughing.
"—whipped cream! C'mon," she unfolded her legs to stand, and yanked up the youth, his grey eyes round and mistrustful. "Pranking Brad will make you feel better."
He cracked a smile, the blanket falling from his shoulders. "You're probably right."
"I'm always right." She grinned widely to herself—she always knew how to make her kid-brother feel better. Squaring her shoulders, she raised a finger in the air authoritatively. "Troops, locate a large trash can and a bucket."
—
It was dark in the forest, and his Command Wolf could barely keep up with the red Gunsniper dodging through the sun-dappled oaks. His Zoid was meant to be more agile than Naomi's, and he couldn't fathom where she'd gotten such a drastic upgrade.
There was a twist in the foliage and he lost her for the moment. Standing in the clearing, he panted, swinging his Zoid's blue head back and forth. Then, there, he saw her through the trees…paused to look at him over her shoulder. Smirking, she said, "Some hunter you make, Brad."
He hit the accelerator, but she disappeared, and in her place was the cliff he'd spilled over months ago while chasing the Shadowfox. Unable to stop himself, he fell again, tilting over the ledge and feeling the familiar lurch in his stomach that jolted him into wakefulness.
Brad Hunter rubbed blearily at his eyes and slipped from his bed, glancing at his alarm clock. Dawn, but there was no chance that he would be sleeping again any time soon. Yawning, he stood while throwing the last clean pair of pants and his vest on. I should get some laundry done today he thought while grabbing his toothbrush from his nightstand.
Outside, two large trashcans filled to the brim with ice cold water leaned precariously against his room door. When the mercenary unconcernedly opened it, he gained a large pain in his toe and a drenching from the naval down.
Irony laughed. So did his three teammates.
. . .
Lady Fuma sat with a mug of tea in her personal room. She felt on edge, always on edge these days. When Koga buzzed in she didn't look up, instead happily hating the wood grains in her desk.
"We've narrowed the rumor down to an old man in Romeo City."
She dipped a finger in her mug, finding it cold. "Is he an idiot? Because I'm sick of idiots."
"He was the Vice President of Research with the Zoids Battle Commission when he was fired twenty years ago."
She nodded. "Sounds useful." She let her head loll back and a genuine smile crossed her face. Good, good. Great. "Let's go get him."
Koga hesitated, then wheeled closer to her. Resting a hand on her cheek he murmured, "You seem stressed, my Lady."
She flinched away, shocked. What was his game? Had he sensed weakness in his leader? Was there a coup? Did they think her a fool for losing so much to an air battle? He seemed unfazed by her rejection.
"You have overstayed your welcome, soldier."
. . .
"Leena has still escaped torture." Bit interjected, prodding his female friend in the shoulder.
"I am the Creatrix; ergo, I have a free get-out-of-jail card."
"What kind of rule is that?"
"We can prank Leena's little lover," Oscar guffawed. "I bet he's a riot." He sent a sly look to Steve, who caught on.
"You know what would be the perfect prank?" Dr. Toros continued, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "We should call him and tell him the wedding is off."
"What wedding?" Leena inquired.
Her wily father tilted his head while donning a perplexed expression. "Yours. Do you not remember when he proposed? I've had this marriage scheduled for weeks."
The young males of the team couldn't uphold their straight faces, and immediately fell into raucous laughter. "Good one, Doc!"
"As a side comment," Oscar grinned, "did you want pink or red roses?"
Dr. Toros chuckled humorously. "No need to hyperventilate, dear. Just giving you your desserts."
Brad leaned over and waved a hand across the female's face. "Wasted breath, Doc. She's fainted." Standing from his seat on the curved blue couches in the lounge where they'd all had an impromptu early breakfast, he flipped on the television. ZNN was in the midst of interviewing a scientist who claimed the sky would be turning green soon.
Brad deadpanned. "Now I remember why I don't wake up early."
"They're just pranking the viewers." Jamie explained, "Last year they reported on some nonsense about reanimating dinosaurs."
"Ironically," Bit chimed in, "that did happen, if you count the Berserk Fury."
"Breaking news!" The announcer suddenly shouted, shoving the blind scientist out of the screen. The man adjusted his purple suit and straightened his tie as a pop-up of a smoggy city appeared in the upper right hand corner of the screen. "Romeo city…is on fire!"
Brad switched off the set with a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How am I going to make it through today without committing murder?"
Bit screwed up his face thoughtfully. "Actually, that reminds me that I was supposed to meet Harry at some point today…"
"Don't think too hard," Jamie said sarcastically, "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Bit stuck his tongue out in response.
Standing, the blonde poked the female next to him one last time. "Helic, she is really out for the count. This is the perfect opportunity for a prank, but I'm no mastermind." He turned to Jamie, "Kid, I'm leaving it up to you."
The young aviator gave him a double thumbs-up. "Roger that, Bravo Charlie."
. . .
Lady Fuma landed in Romeo City at dawn. The sun was slow in illuminating the cement streets; as if it knew what a monstrous day awaited the recuperating town. In this lazy pre-morning she sent out squads of Strikers, let them disperse through the streets with a silent foreboding. Here they were again, ghosts in their old haunt.
A visit to hell and back. They all held fire and gasoline in their bellies and their wick was the spark of her tongue. That's all, folks.
She brought the dawn to her. The city, now lit, aflame.
. . .
Bit popped the hood of the pilot seat and jumped to the ground. Harry and Mary were both shading their eyes from the sun and peering up at him clad in their battle suits—something which Bit found slightly ominous considering that he had apparently forgotten they were having a battle today.
"Where's Leena?" Harry asked with a frown. (And that he had apparently left half of his team back at base.)
"She was feeling a little faint of heart."
"She's sick? I should make her chicken noodle soup!"
Bit sighed. "I doubt she's getting out of her puddle of drool anytime soon."
The Prince's mouth dropped even further open and he made a gurgling sound. His sister tossed her curly hair over her shoulder in a completely contrasting show of emotion.
"Boys, the mission isn't going to complete itself. There will be casualties."
Said boys raised their eyebrows in response. "Oh yeah…" Harry groused. "The 'quest.'"
Realization dawned on Bit's face as he remembered the whole point of him trekking all the way over to the Champ base in the early morning light. He asked Mary for the details again and she huffed in annoyance.
"It's unsavory but necessary. A spy op." Bit asked if they could have codenames and Mary said NO. "Our father's rival corporation is building a new robot, and we must assure that it isn't something that's going to put him out of business."
"I understand the severity. How else would you afford your bath salts?"
Both siblings shouted 'EXACTLY!' and Bit spent a very important moment wondering about their mental health. "Let's go...before Liger changes his mind." He raised a hand and the Liger Zero lowered its head so Bit could step onto its jaw.
"We can't go undercover with an Ultimate X."
"Aw, what!"
Bit made sad eyes at Harry, who raised an eyebrow at the supposed greatest pilot on Zi. Didn't look so ferocious with that pout on his face, did he now? "This message will explode in thirty seconds."
The blonde hugged a yellow fang forlornly. "I'll get the jeep."
. . .
"What's happening, Papa?" The old mechanic's freckled daughter ran to him, her nightdress soiled with sweat. It only took him a glimpse at his burning city to throw her from his shoulder and grab his trusted shotgun. "Get to the cellar, AND STAY THERE!" He felt like a fool for never replacing the fire alarms in his house. Smoke was already creeping through cracked windows and blackening the ceiling.
He hobbled out of the room and into the kitchen, smashing open the cookie jar. Inside were the cardkeys to his secret hangar, and he snatched them up and moved to the garage, his feet finding boots along the way. A few locks, a swipe, an activated door, and he was moving out into the city in his thick armored Cannon Tortoise. Not exactly a Zoid of legend, but he knew this was the companion needed today.
He moved out onto the street and stepped on a fire hydrant. He channeled the water to the burning lawn of his neighbor's house with his toenails then moved on, letting the fetid waters gush upwards in dying rainbows.
He ambled slowly down the street, ignoring others' cries for mercy, the blaring sirens, and Gustav's filled to the brim with water and shuttling around firefighters. He had to wipe the sweat from his eyes, and his arms shook with fatigue. He was no longer the pilot he had been.
When he finally made it to his Zoids shop, he found fire licking its lips up the brick sides, searching hungrily for sustenance amongst the glass and metal. He found he'd rather see the beast starve.
There were two massive guns equipped to his Tortoise, and a large liquid-Hydrogen tank cooled each. The mechanic started accessing information banks stored on the machine's hard drive and shut power off to his automatic gun. Then he released the restraints on the thick shell and clambered out of the cockpit and into the reptilian's innards.
The freezing metal bit him, but he was able to lift a hydrogen canister out of pure adrenaline into the mouth of his plasma cannon. Then he hustled back just as the angry blaze crept onto the shop's tile and spat at him through the windows. Like eyes aflame and a lolling tongue.
Determined now, he set the beam gun on its lowest setting, aimed for what appeared as the heart of the inferno, and fired. Liquid hydrogen hissed in its freedom and froze everything in its path with just as much fury as its counterpart.
The worst of the fire thus burned out, and smoke hissed from the entrance as the building cooled. He was slowly beginning to turn the Tortoise when two graphitized Strikers rounded the corner and stilled on the sidewalk in front of him.
He met with the large yellow eyes painted on their hulls, and he felt his face fall into a familiar scowl.
. . .
The Champ siblings had arrived at the competitor's building and were currently in Phase 1 of their clandestine operations: Infiltrate. Harry made some confusing hand gestures then rounded a corner. Mary, probably doing the exact opposite of what he'd signaled, rounded another.
She spied two guards in this hallway, and she pulled a smoke canister from her belt and giggled quietly. Just as she was preparing to release it, her brother grabbed her by her ponytail and dragged her backwards.
"I said, stay here."
She rolled her eyes and propped her fists on her hips in her best sister-glare. He put a hand to his brow in mock exhaustion as he gave into her demands, then drug her around a third corner.
They slid through a door and came face to face with a bespectacled young man. Harry took this opportunity to faze out, and the man appeared unsure whether to place the Ace he had just found in his Solitaire game or raise an alarm. Mary put on her most charming smile—deciding to play to her strengths. "We're just passer-by, don't mind us." She sashayed over and kissed him delicately on the cheek. "Would you mind pointing my brother and I toward the visitor's center, cutie?" She rubbed at the lingering lipstick flirtatiously.
The young geek spluttered, stuttered, blushed furiously, and fixed his eyes on the brash beauty to his left. She slipped his glasses off with a demure smile and a tug of his earlobe, and the exact route to a visitor's center that most certainly didn't exist spilled from his mouth.
"Oh of course. I can't imagine how I got so turned around. Come along, dear." She winked at Harry (who was looking on in bewilderment) and they both exited the room they had incorrectly entered.
Harry pulled out the secret map he had with him, "Now would you please not go anywhere unless I say so?" he groused.
Mary shook her head 'no' sadly and replied, "If I listened to you, we'd be standing outside the laboratory without a way to actually get inside." Harry raised an eyebrow and Mary brandished a keycard she'd snitched from the scientist. "Brother of mine, you couldn't do this without me. Just admit it."
"I'll admit that without me here to check your psychosis, I'd be bailing you out of jail."
Siblings narrowed their eyes at each other and a moment of silence passed in memory of their childhood alliances.
"About face. Forward march."
Mary huffed, gave in to her brother's straight-faced order, and stomped off.
Back at the jeep, Bit did his best to sketch a wanted poster of the two clandestine criminals—just to see the fear on their faces when they returned. Twas Fool's Day after all.
"Shh," Mary whispered as they entered the room they'd been searching for. Everyone was on lunch break, just as they'd nefariously planned. "Harry, you try and hack that console; I'll take pictures of the prototype." She stepped into the center of the room and looked up at the humanoid beast.
"Good afternoon, you notorious hunk of metal." The single red eye blinked repetitively at her, and she blinked a few times in response before pulling a slim camera out of the pocket of her battle suit. "Boy, you sure are big."
The bot whirred and stood. "Name reclassification: complete. Prototype Zero is now Notorious B.I.G."
"Wait, what?"
"I think this entire computer is the program. When I turned it on, I booted the robot up." Harry looked down at the screen and watched the code scroll in eight directions. Considering that his father used a 9D program for his AI's, Harry figured they wouldn't be losing business anytime soon. He minimized the screen and got a wonderfully warped look at his sister through the eye of the Cyclops. This made him chortle.
Mary turned back to the rival robot. "Rename yourself Project Zero. I don't want them knowing we were here."
"I am Notorious B.I.G."
"Yes, right. Okay, Notorious B.I.G.—"
"That's my name, don't wear it out."
"Helic!" She swiveled and waved her arms at Harry. "Restart it!"
"I can't, all this does is run the program." Back on the screen, Harry noticed as the android zeroed in on a certain part of his sister's heaving anatomy. "Bad robot!"
"Reboot!" She shouted, but the robot remained standing. "Shut down!"
"Shut down? I'll shut you down. Won't go down? I'll push you down. You still smiling? I'll make you frowning. You still swimming? I'll make you drowning."
"Congratulations, Mary, you have just invented the worst rapping robot in all of Zi."
"Stop...drop and roll. You think I'll take orders from a troll? Be a dear and get rid of that unflattering sneer."
"Don't sing." She growled. "Stop! Abort, abort!"
"You're a far cry from my usual consort. But, oh no! You've just told me to—" The robot groaned and shuddered, and Mary only needed to glance at the shocked expression gracing her brother's features before streaking towards his place behind the dais.
"It's...deleting itself."
"I would say…it's aborting itself."
"I'm a killer?"
"Was it ever truly alive?" The siblings blinked in sad sort of astonishment at the results of their actions before tacitly agreeing that this certainly wasn't the time to wade through a topic such as this.
Harry gestured her through the hacked doorway, and Mary replied in a small curtsey as per the usual custom. She looked back just in time to see B.I.G. Zero crumple into a lonely heap.
. . .
When they fired, their guns spewed flame. He ducked and let the heat bounce off of his mostly fire retardant shell, then moved a hand to his automatic rifle, firing before realizing he had already detached the cooling device. His whole cockpit exploded with warning sounds and he smelled smoke.
The old mechanic gritted his teeth, angry with himself. An elementary mistake had already cost him the battle. He shot with the beam cannon, once, twice. He got a lucky shot in on their gasoline tank and one stingray exploded.
"Just the kind of bang I'd like to go out with." He said bitterly, wiping at the sweat pouring into his eyes. His Cannon Tortoise was done, the cockpit was overheating and he wasn't going to be able to keep this up for long. He started a slow retreat, hoping to find a fire hydrant that he could manipulate to his purposes.
Unfortunately, the attackers seemed incredibly focused on him, and a swarm of locust drones clogged his viewing area, buzzing and spitting at him. When they left, his windshield was covered in a slimy goo, and no amount of shaking his Cannon Tortoise's head kept it from solidifying. Why didn't Zoids have windshield wipers?
He heard the exterior speakers of a Zoid click on, and a woman's voice called for him seductively and forcefully. "Be a dear and climb out of your cockpit. I wouldn't want you to catch fire."
The grey-haired man stood and unleashed the face of his Tortoise, stepping out into the smoky air with his shotgun. He leveled it without fear at the remaining Striker. "What do you want?"
The woman giggled a tinkling laugh, then leapt fluidly from her own Zoid. She walked towards him with even less fear, extending her hand when the muzzle of the gun hit her shoulder. It was too strange to keep threatening her, so he put his weapon down and shook her hand gruffly.
"Clint," she said fondly, as if they were old friends. "I think you're a genius. I'm astonished the ZBC didn't see what I see and forced your resignation." She took a few steps back, casting her eyes out onto the horrific splendor of the city. "They have a lack of vision. You and I, we don't lack that vision."
The compliments appealed to him. However, he failed to see the burning city as beauty even if he did not find it terrible. In a weird way the brunette reminded him of his dead wife, and he felt a little melancholy.
"Let's make a deal. Come aboard my ship and I'll explain my intentions. If you don't want a part of it, you can leave. How about it? I have a feeling you'll be intrigued."
. . .
Reginald Gene Corduroy's great grandfather had started a corduroy business. His grandmother had been a famous opera singer and his father had been elected partner at his firm when he was a dapper thirty years old. Plus, his sister had appeared to take after their father's litigation skills and was well on her way to graduating law school. It was a family tree such as this that made Roy wonder how his own apple had been buffeted all the way over to disrespected guard at a robot company that gave him peanut butter sandwiches for lunch that cost A WHOLE HOUR OF HIS PAYCHECK.
What was inside? GOLD FLAKES?
Roy stomped and munched down the corridor, dropping the crust into a nearby trash receptacle. You'd think that they had to crush the peanuts themselves. Did they think he was dumb? Didn't they know his lineage? He was Roy—well, he only went by Roy because his father had called him 'boy' for most of his childhood...and he hadn't realized it wasn't a name until the football recruiter gave him a weird look and took Reginald Corduroy off of the scholarship list.
Stopping, Roy the security guard leaned up on his toes and peered through a crack in one of the blackened windows lining the secret lab in his quadrant. He had always wondered what went on inside, but only recently had he begun debating on whether selling information should become his trade. At least just to get him a decent lunch.
His ears perked as he heard a scuffle, and he rounded a corner just in time to see a man and woman disappear down an adjoining hallway. To his right, the usually sealed electric door was wide open and parading an image of a computer screen with a spinning pinwheel of death. Nearby, as the script looped as it tried to refresh itself, a pile of metal twitched. Roy sighed. What was the world coming to? This wasn't even worth a salad with ranch dressing.
Yet, with doglike curiosity and catlike persistence, Roy followed the mysterious couple throughout the building. They tread quietly and referenced a map at times, which Roy was glad of, because they had left his usual route long ago and he doubted whether the three of them could have found their way anywhere without it. Then, amidst all the sneaking secrecy, which very nearly piqued Roy's interest, the two idiots opened a fire exit and the whole building exploded in alarms.
The two possible mercenaries donned shocked looks, looked at each other in panic, looked behind themselves at Roy who looked back at them with perturbation (well, now he certainly wouldn't find out what they were up to), and then jetted out the door they had erringly opened. Faked officer training aside, Roy was in fact an athlete, so, with no trouble at all, he shifted a hand to hold his gun in place and sprinted after them.
He made sure to leap through the doorway in epic style, because, after all, this probably was his fifteen minutes of fame.
When Roy landed, he immediately rolled to duck behind a fire hydrant, and then cast his eyes into the great beyond. Why was all of Zi a desert? What a boring place to live. Then his ears picked up what his eyes had missed, and he swiveled to focus on a jeep carrying the perpetrators down (what he had previously deemed) Rock and Shrub#3 Alley. He leapt, got a face-full of dust as Zephyr and Fate conspired with Irony and buffeted some more unfortunate wind in his direction, and thusly didn't even get a look at the license plate.
The wind whistled mournfully, or perhaps with merriment, and erased the jeep's tracks. "Dark Nyx!" He swore. He shook his fist at the sky. "What else do you want? My first born?" The blue sky at first remained unfazed by Roy's declarations, but after some introspection decided it would gain consciousness just long enough to pull one last joke on poor Boy.
The breeze died, and a small dot of white drifted down from the heavens. Roy stood transfixed as the sunlight glinted off of the creases and shimmered through the defective opacity before landing gently in his hands in the form of paper. On the paper was a drawing and with the drawing was writing. The CEOs of the company had miraculously found a way to communicate with a peon like him and were giving him a second chance to catch the evildoers. What mercy! What fellowship! To create a wanted poster and anonymously deliver it to him was a deed Roy would place in the highest regard until the end of his life.
He immediately called up the highest official he could through his walkie-talkie. "Sir! It's Roy!" He took a moment to quote the words on the sheet in his hands. "Flying Pigs have robbed the joint!"
. . .
The door pinged as Koga entered her office. She looked up, surprised.
"How did it go with the mechanic?"
"Well." She replied, thinking back to the conversations they'd had. The man had good ideas; some that frightened even her. However, she was at a loss of how to follow through on what she had been forced to concede. Leaving her musings, she noted that Koga was studying her face closely. Carefully, fearful of what he might be planning, she continued. "We were lucky those fools over in the Blitz Team didn't stick their noses into this crisis too. They had the perfect trump card gathering dust in their hangar and they didn't even offer it to our friend Mr. Clint."
"I'm happy it worked out well for you." His eyes looked sad, and he clicked the lock on his wheels while folding his large hands in his lap. "My Lady, I wish you'd use your Neo Warshark the next time we go into battle."
"I didn't want to blow our cover. Better to leave the blame with the ousted Desert Gang."
"You know as well as I do that the Strikers we bought are lacking a bulkhead between the engine bay and the cockpit." He glanced down at her stomach, hidden by her shirt and the wooden desk. "I don't want to watch you get hurt again."
Surprised by his concern, and the reference to the losses she rarely ever mentioned, Fuma studied her old friend closely. As she was chewing her bottom lip a startling thought crossed her mind, and the blood red obstruction slid from between her teeth with a glisten.
"You are one of my best pilots, aren't you Koga?"
He was a man of few words, so he nodded resolutely.
During her study of her maimed pilot, it occurred to her that he was studying her as well. It was carefully veiled, but truly there. In fact, the spark that manifested in the cruder regions of her being could only have been created from the longing in his eyes.
Then the shock turned sour, turned wretched from the taint of power. What a weakness to be exploited, friend. Indeed, indeed.
She moved toward him and placed her hands on the armrests of his wheelchair. He didn't even blink, but the pulse hammering in his neck gave him away. Providence, she thought, and took his lips passionately. He was lower than her in his seated position, and he had to reach upwards to grab her waist with his hands. Fuma was slightly surprised to detect no hesitance from him. Perhaps he had desired this longer than she had predicted.
Koga tugged on her body, trying to pull her closer, and she let him. The female climbed onto his lap, emitting a loud moan into his mouth to tempt him. He hissed back, the weakness of his legs almost unable to carry her weight. She shifted higher and he strained to buck his hips against hers. Koga was a man, and he had wanted for many, many months now.
She pulled her tongue out of his mouth to rest her head on his shoulder. "Do you care for me, Koga?"
"I'd do anything for you, Lady."
"Anything?" She smiled.
"Anything."
She pulled him into an embrace and a psychotic glint formed in her eyes. Her smile grew dark. Very dark. She purred. "I'd like to introduce you to Clint."
. . .
Brad Hunter was reclining on the blue couches in the recreation room after a long day of avoiding the rest of Leena and Jamie's pranks. He did well, if he wanted to toot his own horn, of never giving either of them the reaction they wanted. A good deadpan expression and a disapproving blink usually had them groaning in defeat and leaving him alone for the next hour.
He sighed contentedly. Now, only if he had found the time to pull something on Naomi. It was so rare he got to see her at it was, much less surprise her.
A feminine ahem sounded above him, and he twisted to the left and came face-to-face with a leg. He jerked in surprise, but fingers quickly patted his cheek, helping him realize Naomi had somehow slipped into the base, and was now accidentally giving him the full privilege of eyeing her up before meeting her eyes.
Brad's eyes traced up the long legs, clad in the skintight burgundy boots that left a hint of the creamy skin of her thigh to entice him. The black garter she usually wore was on the wrong leg, but he secretly drank it in anyway, enjoying the way the green heart seemed to wink at him in the light. His eyes traveled even more upward, along Naomi's gold glove propped daintily on her hip and all the way up to the painted, pouting lips of Leena Toros. He let out a strangled gasp. "What in the name of Zoid Eve are you doing?"
She put down the camera. "Just a little side war, don't worry too much about it." She winked and stepped around the couch.
"Don't worry about it? It obviously concerns—"
But she paid him no heed as she sashayed out the door and brushed past Bit as he walked into the room, a towel thrown over his shoulder and a toothbrush in his mouth. Brad watched with comic interest as the young blonde's eyes widened and neck twisted to follow her down the hall.
"What's up, Bit?" He asked, bringing back his usual nonchalance.
"Shower." He replied around his toothbrush, the dumbfounded look still apparent across his features.
The mercenary allowed a little of the mirth that had previously been directed at him to creep into his voice. "A cold one I'm guessing?"
. . .
"We're the ones who destroy the thing, and Bit's horrible picture is still more famous than I am." Harry shut the television off and flopped onto the ground. The domed ceiling at the base was shined so well he could almost see himself staring dolefully at himself. He made a mental note to get Sebastian a boyfriend.
"At least a barely animate object didn't call you a gargoyle." Mary pouted and surreptitiously checked her reflection in the roof—her nose wasn't piggish…right? She rubbed at her snout while reminding herself to give the Tigers Team a day off. Maybe her reflection in all of the furniture had been too high of a demand.
Harry's head lolled to the side and he watched her self-consciously fix the curls in her hair and pleats in her dress. "You only look like a witch in the mornings, and only then if you forget to take the curlers out before coming down to breakfast."
"Thanks, Harry. There has been some well intentioned advice I've been meaning to offer as well." She whacked him with a couch pillow. "In the future, try not to be such a girl's petticoat when you're running from the law."
"What injustice; the indignity!" His already peaked hairstyle grew even more pointed. "My memory is a tad fuzzy because of the emotional trauma, but I seem to remember you using me as a stepstool to get into the jeep faster."
"And the bards will sing the poetry of your sacrificial deeds for your dear sister for centuries. Maybe you'll even be the star of a television show."
"Probably not."
"Yeah, probably not." But because he looked so sad she propped her ankles on his stomach. He squawked at her. "At least you'll always have me."
"Oh, fantastic. Remind me to forfeit my inheritance." Harry glanced up at her, but he caught the twinkle in her eye. Another moment of silence had previously begun preparing itself in memory of their many failures and shortcomings, but the mirth suddenly passing between them tickled and winked and the moment burst into a memory. The siblings laughed and giggled and decided once and for all that they were never going to listen to their father again like all rebellious children should, and the blue sky sighed and went to sleep with a smile.
. . .
Next time on Zoids:
"Dr. Laon, at your merciful service. I know there are few good thoughts you could have of me—it's usually either, Laon: that traitor, or Laon: that soft-hearted fool. However, if your love had been stolen from under your nose by the rest of your trio, I'm sure you would act similarly. With friends like those who needs enemies, am I right? Toros, I understood, but et tu, Oscar? Next time on Zoids, three stooges—nothing but the truth. And as a side comment, try Laon: that mad, wonderful genius. Ready? Fight!"
And so ends what I like to call the Undrafted Arc. I have nicknamed the next bout of chapters the Emotion Arc. Now, this doesn't mean we won't see Fuma, and it doesn't mean people are about to start professing their undying love for each other, getting married, or jumping in front of bullets. I just mean, for this upcoming Arc, there will be some scenes that are at the very least awkward or at the very most nauseating. There will also be character development. Technically, I melded the two arc's in this chapter. Yay for unplanned transitions.
Royyyy, you're my favorite.
I really didn't like this chapter at first, as all who read my author's blurb know, but I think I like it much better now. I did a lot of blending and added more Fuma/Koga interaction. The reason this was such a problem is because these were originally three chapter ideas badly melded into one. However, pulling the theme into Fools and showing how everyone was a fool and how they all failed and succeeded in their own ways made this chapter eons better in my eyes. This caused the chapter name to change. "Through the Fire and Flames" is replaced with "Every Fool Suffers Failure." Which I like as a replacement because it does the double repeat with the F's again haha.
Reviews: I almost didn't have any, but two days after I posted my author blurb, Randomcat and John Doe reviewed! I basically fixed this entire chapter today, but logging on and seeing your reviews today made that time invested so much more worth it. To john doe, thank you for your compliments—they give me heart murmurs haha. You are very right about being proud of my work before I post it—holding myself to my own standard is so important for a story I care about. Not just to me, but to the reviewers, as you say. You would be able to tell if I was slacking off. And I am so happy to hear you like the BL segments hahah I spend an unhealthy amount of time on them. Randomcat, I'm glad you liked Doc's scene! He cracks me up, but I think he really deserves some lovin' and not just be used as comic relief. You know the Fire Phoenix eh? heh heh heh. I'm glad you liked the Bit and Leena scene as well; I was actually very worried that everyone would be put off by it. You're very right that they're relationship in the show is mostly innocently violent, and that is difficult to work with character-wise for romance—but I so thoroughly enjoy writing their arguments that I think it'll escalate slowly enough to be believable. Glad you like the Wild Eagle persona as well :] I lurve it too.
Anyways, next episode Laon, Oscar, and Steve collide! The famous trio indeed. I can't wait!