CHAPTER 25

Hunter Outpost 0918; Germany

00:09 June 27th, 2140

All was quiet in the world of the Hunters versus the Mavericks. Doppler's rebellion had been put down a few years ago, and Repliforce was beginning to overtake the Maverick Hunters in popularity and use. This was, of course, just fine for Barj, the resident techie for Outpost 0918. A long time ago, he would be running about collecting information and data about the next Maverick base that his squad was supposed to attack; now, he could lounge about all day in his grey-and-green armor and read magazines, a habit that he was currently indulging himself in.

His former chores, that of maintaining the software of the base, had been delegated to their latest piece of equipment: the Eye of Rokirn, or Rok as it... no, as /ihei preferred to be called. The small glowing ball of technological wonders hovered about the base lazily, constantly linked directly to the network and controlling it via wireless connection. When he needed recharge, Rok would dock with a special port and regain energy while still directing the system's activities. Recently the entire base decided to route full control over the computers to Rok, which proved an excellent maneuver: everything ran smoother and more efficiently than before. Barj still had his doubts about fully relying on the small construct for everything electronic, but even he had to admit the benefits seemed to outweigh the risks.

Just as Barj turned to a new page in order to continue reading an article, the front door of the base was slammed open as if by a sudden gust of wind. This seemed strange to the Reploid for a couple of reasons: 1.) it really didn't get that windy in this forest, what with all the trees to curb airflow, and 2.) the door was a magnetically-sealed quarter of a ton slab of titanium. It wasn't easy to blow one of those open, even with a small thermonuclear device. Just as Barj considered looking up from the engrossing editorial to examine this unusual phenomenon, a shining steel scythe cut through the spine of the magazine, entered his face, and sliced his electronic brain in two. Less than a second later, the blade had been removed and swung once again, this time straight through the Reploid's neck.

Two minutes later, a scream echoed through the hallways of Outpost 0918 as Mohara, the squad's sniper and range expert, stumbled upon the grisly scene. At the cry, the remaining base personnel minus one came rushing to find out what was going on, and they too had to fight back ripples of revulsion at the sight before them. Sparing the details of the gruesome murder, a crude and obscene message had been written on the wall in the circulatory fluid of the technician.

"'I shall end you'," Rok read the message aloud. "How original."

"Can't you show just a little more emotion?!" Mohara practically screamed through her tears, then burst into renewed sobbing that shook her shoulders. "Oh God... oh God... I can't believe it... he's dead... blood everywhere..."

"Damn," base commander Balent swore, examining the body. "Poor Barj, his brain was cut right in half... there's no way we can revive him... Rok, any idea who did this?"

The floating ball of a Reploid hummed for a moment as he processed it. "Yes," he said as his holographic projector came online. "The culprit moved extremely fast, but the security recorders managed to capture an image of the one responsible." A three-dimensional scene, frozen in time, appeared and hovered a few feet in front of Rok. A Reploid was caught rushing through the open door: he wore a heavy cloak over most of his body, but a single arm extended from within the folds, covered with a silver gauntlet, and clutched a large steel scythe that was already swinging. The top of his head was adorned with a strange helmet, silver and black and blue in color. The helmet had a fin on either side with four spiked points protruding outward. Of course, the most surprising aspect of Barj's murderer was his eyes: they were completely white. And, if the image could be trusted, he was smiling as he swung the weapon.

"Oh my God..." Mohara whispered, her sorrow forgotten and replaced by overwhelming horror. "Who is that?!"

"Scanning database," Rok replied, paused for a second, and then gave the report: "No know Reploid matching this description has been found. Whoever it is, he's out of the system."

"Is he still here?" Balent queried next.

"Affirmative. No motion was detected passing through any of the exits following the attack."

The blonde commander rubbed his chin in thought. "Then his work obviously isn't done... he must be here to eliminate us all. This Maverick certainly knows what he's doing. Rok, what do you think?"

Rok bobbed slightly in the air. "Well, this kill wasn't made haphazardly. He specifically went for the head, because if he had gone for the core it would have caused an explosion which would have alerted us too early, so he's being strategic about this. Most likely he doesn't even realize that we know, so he must be heading for the generators to cut off power."

"Great," Balent muttered. "We'll have to stay one step ahead of him if we want to get out of this one alive. Mohara, go get Culan out of his shower, and--" He didn't finish his sentence, for suddenly the lights went out. The sniper let out a slight whimper, and the blue X-series commander felt worry for the first time over her. Normally, the female Hunter was a cold and unshakeable person, but the death of one of her long-time comrades in her very own base must have shocked her something bad to warrant this kind of behavior. He decided now would be a good a time as any to begin comforting her.

"Don't worry, Mo," he said, using her nickname in an attempt to soothe her ravaged soul. "The auxiliary power will kick on any second now, and then we can get this guy for what he's done to Barj."

"I want Culan... I want Culan..." she repeated quietly.

"Rok, where the hell is that backup power?"

There was silence as the blue light that made the Reploid's eye glow brighter for an instant. "The auxiliary generator has been disabled," he said at last with a hint of despondency in it. "Emergency lights are coming online now." The entire base was suddenly awash with a frightening red light that did little to alleviate the tenseness of the situation. Each emergency light was powered by its own individual power source, so they could not be knocked out in the case of a crisis.

Balent fervently let loose a long string of cuss words. "Rok! Give us another goddamned option! And scan the base for where this guy is! Thermals, motion detectors, whatever!"

"Motion detectors have been knocked offline," the floating Reploid said, irritation evident in his voice. "And those two fins on his helmet are some type of advanced heat sink; they're completely displacing the heat around him, making it impossible to detect him. We'll just have to use our eyes."

"Easier said than done," the commander growled, forming his buster on the end of his arm. "Mohara, stay close. Rok, calculate the next best option." Before a response could be garnered from either person, however, there was a sudden sound of metal shearing through metal, and Balent turned to see what the cause was. His eyes went wide when he did: Rok remained suspended in midair for only a second before his two halves, cut vertically, clattered loudly to the floor. His internal systems sparked a couple of times in an ignoble farewell before he went completely dark.

"Fuck!" Balent cried out as he began wildly firing at the intruder, but he had dissolved into the shadows before any of the shots could have reached him. Mohara just sat on the ground, staring in total shock at the mess of twisted metal that had been the base's computer just moments before. She could hardly believe it: two of her best friends in the entire world were dead less than five minutes apart. She felt like her entire world was coming apart at the seams. Inwardly, she screamed at her weakness: she was not a close-quarters combat fighter, and had only relied on her ranged weapons. She had no swords or any sort of melee weapon.

"God dammit, Mohara!" her commander's voice cut through the shroud surrounding her. "Go get Culan! I'll try to get to the communications console!"

"Is that still functioning?" she asked as she got up and prepared to bolt.

"Yeah, it's got its own power source," he replied. "Now GO!" She nodded, spun on her heel, and took off down the appropriate hallway. She had to get to Culan, her boyfriend, before that freak did. If she could warn him, he would be able to take him out. While Culan was a massive powerhouse, he was pretty smart and even good at close range.

She heard Balent's firing cease, but didn't hear him scream, so she assumed he had gone for the comm. unit. As she poured on the speed, she suddenly felt a presence directly behind her, and she spun around and fell backwards, firing her buster. The plasma illuminated the psycho's visage, a twisted demonic look on his face, but the shots either went wild or were easily dodged. He closed in, and swung his scythe up, slicing deep into her torso. A choked cry tried to make it out of her throat, but the blade took care of that too: it cut halfway through her neck, and the sound dissipated. She collapsed against a wall in a sitting position, looking down in her last moments of life at her blood-soaked body. A small lightshow was erupting from the center of her chest, where the blade had nicked the containment field of her power core and the energy was escaping. It wasn't enough to cause an explosion, but it would kill her within the minute.

As her vision went black, she couldn't shake the horror of what had just happened, and knew that wherever she would end up after Death's icy grip took her would not be as bad as what she had seen in that Reploid's eyes.

Just a few minutes later, Balent was working furiously on the communications console when a tortured scream interrupted his movements. He recognized the voice: Culan. That bastard had gotten Culan, which meant Mohara was dead too. Pushing his overwhelming sorrow and fear to the back of his mind, he continued typing quickly, ignoring the mistakes he was making. He had to get the message out, had to get reinforcements. As he pushed the "Uplink" button, a horrifying message appeared:

ANTENNA ARRAY OUT OF ORDER. PLEASE REPAIR.

He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. He hit the button again, but the same message popped up. Repeating the maneuver yielded the same results, and after roughly ten presses of the button, he put his head in his hands and wailed in despair. The intruder had obviously disabled the communications before entering, and he had never even thought of it! In the panic of the moment, his common sense had failed him, a failure that had already cost him the lives of all his squad mates.

An unsuppressed footstep caused him to look up in horror at the Reploid standing in front of him: the intruder. He stood there, scythe in hand, like some kind of bastardized version of an angel, of Death Himself. The weapon gleamed brilliantly, despite the dark stains that dripped from it, and those pure white eyes burrowed deep into Balent's soul and brought only fear and anxiety to the surface.

"Who..." he stammered, involuntary backing away from the Reploid, "Who are you? What are you?" In a flash, the cloaked intruder had crossed the distance between the Hunter and himself. Balent fell back, but not in the same way Mohara had: he was now prone, now totally victim to every whim of his soon-to-be murderer. The pale white eyes continued to stare down at him, emotionless, even when the Reploid spoke with such vehemence it could have killed on its own.

"I?" he hissed. "I am the embodiment of all your sins. The Hunters have taken everything from me, everything that made my life worth living. Now I live in hypocrisy, my existence a joke to the merciful God, a tortured remnant of what I once was." The scythe was slowly raised over his head, poised to fall down into the vulnerable Hunter. "I am Reaper Eternal, and I am here to deliver unto you free passage to the Other World."

The last image ever to cross Balent's mind was that of the thin blade falling into his skull. Then he, and the last of the Hunters of Outpost 0918, was no more.

Maverick Hunter Base Epsilon, Detroit, Michigan; United States of America

08:00 March 12th, 2151

Seven distinctly-colored teleport beams touched down on the plaza outside the Maverick Hunter base, dispersing the light mist that hung in the air around them. It was early in the morning, and the reddened tip of the sun was visible just over the horizon. Most of the people milling about hardly flinched: they supposed from the look of the soldiers that it was another Hunter team coming back from a night mission, though they had strangely gotten the coordinates for landing inside the base wrong.

After completely forming, three of the seven Eternals pocketed the small teleportation devices that had been supplied to them by Artemis Cain, knowing that they would need them to teleport back once they had completed their mission. Reaper, however, chucked his into a bush with a huff. He would not hang on to Hunter technology longer than necessary, and decided he would come back for it later if he needed it.

Surveying the area, the cloaked Eternal couldn't help but smirk. A little less than eleven years ago he had sacked a Hunter outpost and used it as a dwelling. Now he was about to repeat the maneuver, except this was a full-scale base and he had no intention of hanging around after it had been cleared out. His brothers may have intended to kill only one target before leaving, but Reaper knew better: once they were beyond 700, they would kill anything that moved. A demented smile crossed his face in anticipation of that feeling, of the absolute freedom and power of the Eternal Core's energy flowing through him.

With a single hand motion, Taggs sent the Lockes reluctantly off to the sidelines. Then, looking over his brothers, he said two words: "Let's roll." The three others nodded as one and marched through the doors of the building, and a moment later, the fireworks began.