MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS
By Erico
CHAPTER TWO: SHATTERED CRYSTAL REALITY
In an abandoned building, somewhere in the desert of Northern Africa, a pair of reploids watched out the windows of the shack and frowned. One was short, the other was tall. But both looked as if weren't too happy about something. Finally, the short one moaned and activated his weapon, a dual beam saber with a long handle. He swung it around into the wall, making another cut into the tattered frame. The big one looked over in disinterest and shook his head.
"Let it go, man. Just let it go." The small one flipped the beam staff off and yanked his helmet off, throwing it against the wall with a solid throw. Then he slumped into a chair that had seen better days.
"You just take life on the easy side, doncha?" He said snidely to the taller one, letting his fiery red hair fall back. The tall one blinked twice, then shrugged and looked out the window.
"It helps sometimes. Your mind never gets clouded with negative emotions. It's tough to remain in advantage when your anger makes you fly off the hook." The short one shook his head.
"Easy for you, bro. Whoever made us had a sense of humor, that's for sure. I wish I could give him a solid punch for it!" The tall one turned around and smiled.
"No, I think whoever made us had his head on straight. Tell me, what's your personality?"
"Hotheaded, angry most of the time. A steamin' pot of water on the burner."
"Correct. And what is mine?"
"You're calm, quiet, rational and a bit slow at times." The tall one folded his arms and nodded.
"There you have it. We complement each other perfectly. Because of that difference in personalities, we are capable of working in tandem in unpredictable ways. The only downside is that should one of us go missing, it's most likely the other would go off his nut." The short one shook a fist.
"Blabber on all you like. The simple fact is we're outgunned, fighting against a powerful force of mavericks." The tall one walked over and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling in a pained way.
"I know. And we could have been one of them. But we're strong, you know. Strong enough to stop his plans from succeeding." The short one finally got up.
"Someday, it won't be forces we'll be tangling with. Someday my older brother, it'll be HIM we take down." The tall one nodded somberly, a frown at last crossing his face.
"Yeah. That would stop the movement right then and there. If you're going to fight the Snake, you go for the head. But remember this, my little brother." The small one looked over and nodded his head, waiting for the answer.
"It's the Snake's head that holds the venomous bite."
"So, your name is Bristol." Cain stood up behind his desk and gently laid down the datapad with the data from Medical. Bastion and Bristol stood on the other side, Bristol a little more nervous than the Arabic Anomaly. Bristol's blonde and reddish hair swung gently as she moved her head.
"That's right, sir." Cain's eyes sparkled for a moment, and he finally sat down. Motioning to the chairs by his two visitors, he began.
"Bastion tells me you have no clue about your past, Bristol." The new reploid nodded again. Cain sighed. "Such a problem is nothing new, Bristol. Often, when a reploid is rebuilt, a certain amount of their memories is lost. But you show no signs of being rebuilt, and that is what puzzles me." Cain rubbed his eyes. "Humans can lose their memories as well, either by blocking it out because of how horrendous it is or by receiving a severe blow to the head. And even though this kind of memory loss has never been proven to be attached to reploids, it's the best I can come up with at the current time. You went through a lot out there, Bristol. I think you might have suffered amnesia."
Bristol shifted in her seat.
"A reploid without a past, eh? Well, that's a FINE lot to be played in life." Cain chuckled.
"You can stay here at Maverick HHQ for as long as you like, Bristol. And it might not hurt to go with Bastion here to the databanks. You have some catching up to do." Bastion blinked in surprise.
"But sir! I have to report back to my Unit for a training exercise in five minutes." Cain frowned.
"Bastion, I can clear you for being absent. Besides, you're the commander of your Unit. Commanders get a few more special privileges than you'd like to believe you have." Bastion stood tall, putting his arms at his side.
"Sir, it's not that I need the practice. It's loyalty to my Unit." Cain stood up now, his frown harsher as his face turned red.
"I am the leader of the Maverick Hunters, Bastion. And as long as I am, you will listen to my orders. You will take Bristol to the Databanks and help her get settled in here, is that clear?" Bastion's staunch appearance crumbled and he nodded angrily.
"Yessir." Cain smiled.
"Good. Sorry you had to see that Bristol, but Bastion can be incredibly hard-headed at times." Bristol folded her arms and got up.
"I think it's a rather exceptional quality to have." Cain chuckled.
"It can be at times. Now, I suggest you two shuffle off to Buffalo. I have a meeting with the Global Defense Council on the uplink in two minutes."
In the Training Room of the Maverick HHQ, the 21st angrily paced back and forth, waiting for their Commander to show his face. Wycost's glasses were flipped down, toned a dark red as they scanned in infrared. With his Buster raised, he looked the most impatient of anyone in the Unit. They all grumbled impatiently, but Wycost finally got fed up and slapped his comm.
"Bastion, do you mind telling me where the frack you are?" In response, the sliding door to the rest of HQ hissed open, and a familiar blue figure walked in.
"Bastion's occupied for the moment, Wycost." Wycost's shades slid back up into his helmet as he frowned.
"Doing what, may I ask?" X folded his arms and gave a half smile.
"Making sure one reploid he found on that last mission gets some sense of reality. Bristol is the name, and she had a serious memory wipe." Amazed grumbles ran through the Unit at the announcement, but Wycost finally nodded.
"All right, I'll buy it. No one here would particularly like to get that treatment. But who then is going to lead us in practice?" X chuckled.
"How about you, Wycost? You're second in command of the 21st. Put it to good use." Wycost flipped down his regular black shades and chuckled, finally smiling.
"I guess I am. You wanna join our little jam session?" X nodded absently.
"Why not?"
But X had a deeper reason for telling Wycost to do it himself; it was a chance to lead the plucky green Hunter would most likely never get now. Wycost wagged a finger at the experienced destroyer of 5 Maverick Uprisings and chuckled.
"Now, to keep things even, I must ask you abstain from using your armor sets. But your special weapons are allowed." X lifted his eyebrows. The only special weapons he had kept were the Koala Slash and Narwhal Cannon. But he'd make good use of them.
"So, if I may ask Wycost, what simulation are we doing?" Wycost punched a button on a wall of the Holo-Training room and grinned evilly. As the surroundings quivered with a shimmering light, X knew where Wycost had set this training mission for.
"Hope you're ready, X; it's time to take on Sigma's First Fortress. And this time, no Zero to save your bacon."
"So Cain built the first reploid?" Bristol muttered. Staring at the blinking computer screen of historical records, her gaze did not shift. Bastion grudgingly looked up and opened his eyes, grunting in approval.
"Yup. Went by the name of Cancer. He was X's best friend before-" Bastion paused and shook his head sadly. Bristol looked up in surprise, pausing the data download.
"Before what?" Bastion unfolded his arms and rubbed his eyes with a hand.
"You remember the events of June 4th? Bristol nodded.
"Quite, luv. Sigma and his merry band of bushwackers blew their way out of Maverick HHQ, hopped aboard the Death Rogumer and blasted off to destroy humanity." Bastion motioned at the screen, and Bristol's eyes widened. "Oh, no-Cancer wasn't one of the-"
Blinking away the tears two seconds later, Bristol choked out the rest. "Bugger. Cancer was the first to die." Bastion nodded, his face in a droop.
"He was alive long enough for X to return and have his best friend die in his arms. X doesn't like to remember it much, but that's what pushed him over the edge to become a Hunter." Bristol shook her hair back.
"How many people have died to the mavericks?" Bastion shrugged.
"If you count reploids as people, they number in the hundreds of thousands. And our dedication to their eradication is severe. When you see the people you work with get blown away by a cold blooded killer, it does something to you." Bristol's eyes glazed over for a moment as she frowned.
"I know." Bastion blinked.
"Pardon?" Bristol's eyes declouded and she looked up questioningly.
"Yes, Bastion?" Bastion shook his head, trying to get rid of that haunting angry stare he had seen.
"Nothing. Just forget I said anything." Bristol shrugged, turning back to the screen.
"Bastion?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't suppose you know who that green chap with the Buster is that ran into the Medical Bay earlier today?"
"Wycost?" Bastion said calmly. Bristol nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, him. What's his view on all of this?" Bastion groaned.
"That's opening up a whole new can of worms, Bristol. If you were to try and find the nastiest, meanest, most down-to-earth in your face person in the Hunters, it'd be him. He's right up there with Zero, and even worse at times." Bristol snapped the monitor off and wheeled her chair back. She stretched her arms and frowned.
"Funny. Was he built like that?" Bastion shrugged.
"Building reploids is a weird business, Bristol. It's hard to program a mood. Basically, you just pick it up as you go along, and Wycost had a pretty hard go at it."
"What do ye mean by that, luv?" Bastion leaned up against the wall and sighed.
"Wycost was from the Bronx. Downtown New York, which isn't the friendliest place. Anyways, he was part of the neighborhood maverick watch. Kind of like the Hunters, only they lack the heavy duty firepower. They're more like watchdogs, really, and therefore they get the snot beat out of them." Bastion paused, and noticed Bristol was listening intently.
"So Wycost's life was far from happy, but he had his friends, you see. Then something terrible happened a year ago. The Fifth Maverick Uprising began anew. With Zero MIA, it was up to X to stop the assault. And it took place where Wycost was stationed. X came far too late, even though he obliterated the entire attack. When it was over, he had attained the Narwhal Cannon from the Maverick General, but Wycost's pals had all bitten the dust, and he was barely alive." Bastion left out the fact that Wycost had been turned into a maverick, a fact which the green Hunter kept to himself and had only told X, Zero and his Commander, Bastion.
"From that day, a part of Wycost died. He became the destroyer of all mavericks as you know him today, and helped X to put an end to the last great Uprising." Bristol whistled.
"Quite the story, Bastion. You hear about stuff like this, but you never expect it to happen so close to you." Bristol stood up and fixated a glance on the Arabic Bastion. "Speaking of which, the records indicate YOU were a part of the follow-up team that went with X on that mission." Bastion shrugged.
"Yep. I learned a lot from X, and ended up saving both our butts later on in the Uprising in a conflict with a maverick known as Pyrotech Python. That got me promoted to Unit Commander, and I've been here ever since. But the hair's new." Bristol chuckled.
"I can't quite imagine you with one of those bulky helmets." Bastion ruffled his hair with both hands and smiled.
"I can't either." Bristol walked over to a window and looked out, shaking her head.
"I know all this stuff about everyone else, but yet all I know about myself is a name." Her eyes took on a weary look and she sighed. Bastion walked over and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, I know. You kind of need a past to have a future. Don't worry, Bristol. If you can find your answers, you'll find them in the safety of this base. And who knows?" Bristol looked up with pleading eyes into the glistening orbs of Bastion's head.
"Someday, Bristol. Even if you can't find out all you want to know of your past, you can at least figure out what to do now."
"There goes Vile." X muttered under his breath silently, watching the holographic demon dash off into the safety of the revolving door to his lair, where X knew the 'Mech waited. Wycost was along with him this time, and X shut his eyes for a moment, trying to stop the horrible flashback. But it didn't help. In his mind, that horrible night played back.
Zero dashed on ahead, coming face to face with a foe who had the advantage of size, strength, and surprise. X showed up in the room a few seconds later-a few seconds too late. Then, Vile began to mercilessly pound away on X-and at last prepared for the driving deathblow, Vile's attack was halted. Zero sacrificed his life in a flash of overloaded plasma, and a forever scarred X was left to end Sigma's reign by himself.
The flashback ended, and Wycost shook his shoulder.
"X man, you all right?" Wycost's eyes were wide in concern, and X shook his head.
"Wycost, you had to pick the one simulation that gives me nightmares. There's a reason I try to forget that conflict ever happened. Too many people close to me died. And if you had been in the Hunters back then, you too would most likely be dead." Wycost flipped down his glasses and frowned.
"X, that was years ago. There's a time to be affected by the visions of disaster, but now is not one of them. X, LOOK AT ME." X lifted his head and stared at the frowning Hunter Bastion. "X, you're scared because this is your nightmare. And until you overcome it, you won't be whole. What you solved in your life in the Fifth Uprising was a conflict of your past. Now you need to solve the conflict of your fear. And as long as I'm here and Zero isn't, I'll stand by your side until you do stand triumphant." X blinked for a moment.
Wycost was so sure of himself, so sure that X could wipe that dreadful vision aside with a laugh and show of prowess. Then again, Wycost had faced himself as well, stopped the nightmare. Not only had he avenged his friends, he'd stopped the maverick threat cold and saved Bastion's life.
If Wycost could do it, X would be danged if he would do less. So he climbed to his feet and nodded his head, glaring.
"Right. This time, we play for keeps." Wycost grinned happily.
"That's the spirit, me boy." Wycost primed his Buster and began to charge it up, the whining sound of accumulating plasma a backdrop for his voice. X switched to the Narwhal Cannon and loaded a round in readiness. This time, the outcome with Vile would be different.
This time, X would not fail.
"Lemme get this straight now- You wanna do what to the Hunters?" Cain yowled, his hand angrily clutching at his stick in a tightened fist. Staring at the comm screen on his desk, Cain was talking over a VidLink to the Global Defense Council. And the person his questions were aimed at was the smiling yet sinister head of the anti-reploid movement; Cristoph.
Cristoph took off his glasses, folded his hands in that innocent gesture and smiled widely.
"We want to lessen the numbers, Cain. That's all. It's not like we're disbanding them." Cain's fingers began to quiver angrily as the vein in his forehead began to beat.
"Cristoph, tell me exactly what the Hunters do." Cristoph blinked for a moment.
"Everyone knows their duties. To stop maverick activities and prevent the destruction of the human race." Cain nodded furiously.
"Exactly. And they've prevented the massive Uprisings five times now. You know as well as I do that history repeats itself. There's been plenty of action of late, and a call this severe is a flagrant smash of reploid discrimination." Cristoph shook his head, giving that drippingly sweet smile like your grandfather would give you.
"Cain, you know as well as I do that after the Fifth Uprising was stopped, the battles fought were to blame not on Sigma or the virus. Your own reports indicate that Sigma was finally destroyed, with no way to transfer his core program to another location." Cain finally slammed his hand down, making Cristoph and no doubt the other Delegates at the Council leap in their seats. Cain had had enough niceties.
It was time to talk turkey.
"Now you listen good, Cristoph. I want you and all your reploid hating friends to hear what I have to say, because I'm only saying it once." Cain's forehead was throbbing visibly now as his face turned beet red.
"I know your bio, Cristoph. Your family has been spared a loss at the maverick threat, and yet you're one of the most outspoken voices in reploid matters. Answer me a question, and do it in all honesty, Mr. Cristoph; how can you condemn a race we created?" Cristoph squinted his eyes for a moment before pushing on.
"Doctor Cain, reploids have been trouble from the moment they were first assembled-"
"EXACTLY. We ASSEMBLE reploids. This is the fault of man, and man is to blame for its children. In all my years, I've come to know everything about reploids and I am about to open my book of wisdom and waste it on you." Cristoph frowned and began to speak, but Cain didn't let up. "When a reploid is activated, it is like a newborn human baby. A reploid has a free will, a mind of its own, and should have as many rights as humans. But it doesn't, because we have the misconception that reploids are not individuals-that they are little more than advanced machinery."
"Cristoph, did you ever wonder what life is like for a reploid? They're built on assembly lines, and sent out in the world with little reassurance. Were we to do this with human children, we would be charged with crimes of indecency. 'But it's only a reploid!' you say. FRACK THAT. Reploids are not to blame for what's been done-humanity's blatant ignorance of decency and equality has been the match, fuel and fire for the mavericks, even before the Maverick Virus came into existence."
"I know you're a big churchgoer, Cristoph. So in all that Christian Doctrine, tell me if you've learned anything. Christians believe that the big guy in the sky made everything, including humans which he forged in his own image. WELL, GUESS WHAT. We did the same things with reploids. And so far, 'Mr. Ruler of the Universe' has yet to do anything to punish humanity for its acts of cruelty against each other, its poisoning of the earth and the terrible conflicts they've created. So WHY THEN, do some humans feel that they need to punish reploids and possibly even exterminate them? Especially since humans are the ones to blame for reploid's problems."
"Doctor Cain, allow me to let the air out of your speech for a brief moment and remind you-"
"Cristoph, I'm too ticked off at you and your crazy ideas for the moment to do any more talking. For the moment, the Hunters will continue to do business as usual, protecting your scrawny butts from those who would break into your homes and kill your families. No-wait, that's wrong. Those are HUMANS who do that. The Hunters will handle the reploids who are acting in what they believe is reparation for damages. And if you try to say different, let me remind you that without the Hunters, you'd be up shoot crick."
"Cain, you are being impossible!" Cain grinned.
"Good. I'll stop being impossible when you and your friends stop playing God." Cain shut off the VidLink with a resounding click and sighed.
His hand released the walking stick, and he noticed his bad leg was throbbing again. The leg which a computer bank had fallen on when Sigma blew his way out of HQ so long ago.
He punched a button on his deskcomm and coughed for a moment.
"Hazil, get over here now. And bring some Tylenol." Hazil rolled in the door just as he was finishing his sentence. Hazil crossed his arms and shook his head.
"Cain, I was already on my way here." Cain rubbed his head.
"Fine. Did you bring Tylenol? I got a splittin' headache from that tightbum and my leg's itching again." Hazil winked.
"Shazam." He popped his Chest Compartment open and pulled out a purple bottle. Flipping the lid off, he shook out two medium white pills and slammed them on Cain's desk, followed closely by a can of purified water. Cain downed the drugs and drink and lay back in his chair. Hazil rolled up and tapped on the desk.
"Cain, that probably wasn't the most productive conversation you've had with Cristoph and goons." Cain chuckled.
"I know, but it sure felt good. Besides, someone needs to shove them in their place and prove that they've got as much of the blame as the reploid superiority mindset in the ones with egos." Hazil blinked his eyes and chuckled.
"Gosh, I don't know what we'd do without our daddy Cain." Cain looked over to Hazil and nodded.
"Hazil, you were here since before Sigma's first Uprising. And you were the one who ended up pulling miracle after miracle out of your glove box. By my measurements, that makes you-"
"Old as Hell." Hazil grumbled. He shook his head and sighed. "Boy, I feel like it too. It's fine dealing with the occasional stupid accident and fixing up dented armor, but I really do get tired of this job when I have to rebuild Hunter after Hunter. Of course, what I was doing before this wasn't much better." Cain blinked.
"Yeah, I never did catch where you were from." Hazil rolled his eyes.
"I suppose everyone has a life story to tell. All righty, Cain. Seeing as you're my buddy and you give me Heineken every second week, I owe you that much. I shuffled in with Storm and Spark when you originally formed the Hunters. Of course, back then I was a field medic, and not as experienced as now. But the box on wheels never failed the British Troopers on the battleground, and I don't plan to fail now." Hazil rolled back and crossed his arms, sighing to reach up to his face. There was the jagged scar down his cheek, along with the mop of gray hair he was all too familiar with.
"Cain, the people who made me weren't assembly line doofs making minimum wage. I was built as my very own model, not off of anyone else's drawing table but the guys at Military Command. For that I'm a bit thankful, and the environment I grew up in may not have been as warm and fuzzy as X had with you, but it wasn't a trip through the sewers. By damn, we had structure in that place. We all knew what we had to do, and we had each other, and there was equality. There may be racism in normal workplaces, but if it showed up in British Domain, the guy spoutin' it was kicked out faster than I plug injections. But that's only the beginning, Cain. I could tell you more, but if I did that I'd be out of storytime ideas." Hazil slapped his elbow and lifted his wheel base.
"Still, I wouldn't mind terribly if I could get rid of this clunky thing for a set of regular legs." Cain's eyes narrowed.
"Been getting worse, eh?" Hazil nodded.
"They mean it in good fun for the most part, but it still ticks me off. I'd keep the box, if I could just get rid of the wheels." Cain shrugged.
"Shoot. I'd be more than happy to give you a hand with that someday. But now's not a good time." Cain looked up at the clock. "You'd better head back. The 21st is coming back from Training in a bit. And don't worry about me. You cleared up my headache."
Hazil nodded.
"Righto, boss." He rolled out the door to his own section of the HQ, leaving behind a smiling Cain.
"Hazil, it's easier to talk to reploids. Humans are just too dang stupid and pitiful."
"I-I did it!" X said in shock. He lowered his X-Buster, watching the chain reaction in Vile's holographic frame go into its ending stages. Wycost stood a distance away, grinning his head off.
"I knew you could, X." At last, the simulation ended and the room returned to normal, with white lights shining down on the two Hunters. Wycost looked at his wrist's datascreen and blinked.
"Seems the rest of the 21st has already finished their exercise. Minimal damage, too. Bastion'd be proud. Any Unit Commander would be, actually." Wycost looked to X and chuckled. "A bit of good news in my world, X. A while back I sent in an application for Commander status in the Hunters, and today is when it comes back. And with my experience and skills, the people in charge of the Maverick Hunters- namely Cain- would be stupid not to approve it." X turned away, for all of a sudden his own exhilaration left his body in a massive swoosh of air. Wycost and his application for a higher rank in the Hunters. The one thing X knew the outcome of, and it wasn't a happy one.
But how would the leering Wycost take it?
As they walked out of the Training Holoroom, X suddenly wished he was far far away from this base.
"Join URFAWP today, and unite the world for peace!" Bristol was flipping through the television channels, and she had stopped on a commercial. Her eyes blinked intently as she sat back. Onscreen, a gaggle of smiling reploids and humans held hands and ran on green grass, while a dark figure became visible in the background. "URFAWP-United Reploids for A World Peace. Created by J.K. Horn, one of the world's most prestigious reploid citizens, URFAWP stands as a true beacon for a time in which the suffering and hatred no longer exists." Bristol's eyes widened in amazement.
"J.K. Horn? Odd name for a reploid." In truth, most reploids only had one name, like Bob or Mac. Ones with last names were far and few between, because last names were considered human-only mannerism. But this guy certainly seemed to have enough prestige to warrant the quirk. "Looks fine enough to me. Kind of like a grandfather." Bristol giggled. "Right, I forgot. Reploids don't have grandfathers. They have creators and places of activation." J.K. Horn's onscreen image was smiling broadly with a middle sized face, gray falling hair and a genuine twinkle of happiness.
"The world needs to be healed, and reploids can do it if they unite with humans. In URFAWP, a reploid can go everywhere and meet everyone as they work for the betterment of society. So when you're pondering what to do with your life, don't work in construction or join the Maverick Hunters. Join URFAWP: the future awaits." The commercial bleeped off, and Bristol lowered her remote. Getting up, she shook her head.
"URFAWP? Nutty. And from what I saw, it sounds like an over-glorified reploid Peace Corps."
She decided it was high time to shove off, so she left the lounge and wandered through the hallways. There was lots of activity, with hovering datadrones going above the walking people's heads, and reploids of every color and every form going by. Bristol felt out of place in the bustle, but strangely she felt home as well. A small smile crossed her face, because every now and then one of the people like herself- reploids- would look over, smile and give a friendly greeting. But at last she slipped into a door, and watched it slide shut from the flow of people.
A grunt of surprise from behind her drew her attention, and she swiveled quickly in alarm. Hazil stood with an edgy stance, but held his ground. Hazil finally lowered a hand.
"Ya know, we really got to stop bumping into each other. Last time you sent me crashing through that wall." Hazil motioned to the wall beside Bristol where it was all too evident a rough repair had been made. "This time, you might decide to lop off an arm. Speaking of which, you mind lowering yours?" Hazil shook his head at Bristol, and the mysterious female reploid at last looked down. Her arms were raised in a defensive posture, but which could also be used for attack in short order. Bristol lowered her hands and then shrugged.
"Sorry about that. Is your head any better?" Hazil reached up and rubbed his head of hair. He shrugged.
"Reploids are pretty hardy. You knocked me out for a while, but I came around. You'd have to do much worse to make any lasting impression." Hazil chuckled a bit at the joke, and Bristol smiled.
"Good to know. So I take it you're Hazil, then?" Hazil nodded.
"Yup. Head honcho of making sure the doofs here at MHHHQ don't bite the big one or ruin their armor sets. I also specialize in Dash Upgrades and Buster enhancements. And on the side, I act grouchy and drink my Heineken beer." Bristol frowned.
"Beer? Not exactly good for you, Hazil." Hazil shrugged.
"I'm a reploid. But the alchohol affects reploids as much as it does humans. It's all about moderation, my plucky assailant. If humans were smarter, they would have learned that lesson as well, and drinks wouldn't get such a negative connotation." Hazil frowned. "Stupid. I can't believe that people would throw their lives away. It's hard enough trying to preserve it without trying to kill yourself!" Bristol nodded slowly.
"I take it you take death very personally, then." Hazil reached up and pointed to the jagged scar along the side of his face.
"Very much so. It tried to claim me once already. But in the end it failed." Hazil's face drooped now, and he sighed.
"So, what else can I do for you?" Bristol shrugged.
"Nothing. Just making sure you're all right." Hazil pointed to the door.
"All righty, then. Why don't you go talk to Cain for a bit?" Bristol bit her lip. She didn't like being bossed around, but Hazil looked troubled as if she had dug up a painful memory. And she'd already done enough to hurt him for one day.
"Cheerio, then." Bristol's soft footsteps vanished into the low rumbling of the hallway, and then the Medical Bay grew silent once more. Hazil reached down and pulled out a tiny image projector from his Chest Compartment. Hitting the button in the center, the holo-image sprung to life, slightly distorted with the wear it had gotten over the years. In it, he and Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill stood for a photo shot, grinning like idiots as Spark made a huge bunny ears over Hazil's head. In the picture, Hazil's hair was brown.
Now it was gray. Hazil sighed and put it back in his box, rolling over to his computer for the latest medical reports.
"The survivors. The only survivors in a Shattered Crystal Reality."
"And here we are. The sign-up sheet for the promotions!" Wycost chuckled softly. Behind him trailed X, his head lowered. He already knew the outcome of Wycost's application. And then Wycost stopped laughing.
"Wha-! DENIED?!" Wycost turned around, his face flustered. He glared at X when he saw the guilty expression on the Hunter's face. "You KNEW?" X finally raised his head and sighed.
"It's more complex than you think, Wycost. It isn't a vendetta against you." Wycost raised a fist and growled.
"Let's go see Cain."
So they walked along down the halls until at last they reached the sliding door that led to Cain's cushy office.
And Wycost kicked it in. The flying metal seemed to rush right at Cain, until Bristol in another flash of her mysterious instincts deflected it aside with a powerful two-fisted swing. Cain stood up in a flash, a shocked expression on his face. Wycost ran inside, followed closely by X, who gave Cain a woeful look. Cain blinked and sat down calmly. He folded his arms and looked up at the angry Hunter.
"So, what can I do for you, Wycost? Whatever would cause you to kick in my door has to be good." Wycost pointed a finger and glared.
"My application for leadership in the Maverick Hunters was DENIED, Cain. You mind telling me why?" Cain sighed and raised up his walking stick.
"Wycost, you are as painfully aware about the Global Defense Council's position on this organization as any of us. They won't let us expand, and more and more it seems they would like to whittle us down to nothing. This place may be funded by my ever-loving coffers, but they still have control over us." X finally walked and stood by Cain.
Wycost's eyes bulged for a moment, but it finally dawned on him what had happened.
"Cain didn't dump my application-X did?!" X nodded slowly.
"I had to, Wycost." Wycost shook his head.
"Why, X?" X looked down, unable to look at his friend any longer.
"Wycost, the Hunter's days are numbered. If we promoted you, the position wouldn't last long. And you still lack the fundamental aspects that make a good leader. You lack restraint, calm careful planning and mutual respect." Wycost glared.
"Most jerkoffs in this place don't deserve my respect, X. But I can damn well lead them into a mission!" X finally snapped his head up with a weary frown.
"I know you can, Wycost. The question is; could you keep them alive?" Wycost stumbled back for a few moments, forming a retort. But then it all finally crashed on him.
He had joined the Hunters in a desperate hour of need, saving Zero's bacon and proving himself to be even more of a hotdogger than the Crimson Hunter. He had gained the respect of X, Zero, and Bastion. Even that of Hazil and Cain. But the other Hunters still saw him as a loose cannon in the force, the rogue element in a periodic table of perfection. He had joined to avenge his friends and stop Sigma.
He had done that. But now what was left for him in the Hunters? Without a promotion-
Without a promotion to commander, he no longer had a purpose here. In that moment, he slumped against the wall and flipped his glasses down. With his black eyepieces in place, those in the room couldn't see the tears beginning to well in his optics.
"Wycost, are you all right?" Cain asked softly. Wycost got to his feet slowly, like he was walking in a dream. A dream that had become a nightmare. Wycost looked to Cain, then to X, and lastly to a worried and confused Bristol. He shook his head slowly as he could manage.
"No, Cain. I'm not." He looked over to his right shoulder, where a 21 with a jagged lightning bolt flashed behind it. Gently, he ripped it off and threw it to X, who caught it with a disbelieving stare. Finally, X gaped his mouth shut and uttered a sentence.
"Wycost, you're-you're-"
"Leaving the Hunters." Wycost waved away the shocked looks. "X, when I joined the Hunters, I expected to do two things: Avenge my friends, and go places in this sordid lot. I accomplished one, and all of you are bound determined to stop me from obtaining the other."
"You don't have to leave, Wycost!" X belted out. Wycost stamped his foot down.
"And do what, X? Become an over-glorified police officer? No thanks. I don't know what I'll do with my life, but it has to be more worthwhile than kissing butt and taking it in the shorts." Wycost was beginning to walk away towards the kicked in door frame, when Zero plodded in with a look of surprise.
"Hey Wycost, where you off to?" Wycost looked at the Crimson Hunter, dressed in full regalia with a look of sadness, anger and snide idiom all rolled up into one. Finally, Wycost jerked his thumb to tell Zero to move. Zero complied.
Wycost left the empty frame, but as he did, he mumbled a statement which Zero was able to pick up.
"If you had been in my shoes, you'd have left too."
And then Wycost was gone. Zero walked over to the mass and blinked in surprise.
"Wycost's leaving?" Cain looked away, Bristol ran out of the room, and all X could do was hand Zero the proud shoulder insignia of the 21st Maverick Hunter Unit. Zero shook his head.
"Is everything going nuts around here?"
No one in the room could argue otherwise.
"Wycost! Wycost!" The semi-quiet of the outside world grew softer as a single voice rang out. Wycost, who had donned street regalia in favor of his traditional green armor turned around. Dressed in a black leather jacket, green shirt, blue jeans and a set of shiny black cowboy boots, Wycost looked like the genuine bad boy of lore. His hair was also black, and spiky beyond belief, and his goggles were still there, but now they held an appearance of traditional sunglasses.
While the falling sun cast a shadow on him, his powerful frame still evident as ever through his clothes, Wycost turned towards the voice. He already knew who it was. And when Bristol finally finished her dash to catch up with the green menace, she shook her head.
"Wycost, why are you leaving?" Wycost frowned.
"Obviously you're hard of hearing. I already said why. I'm not getting promoted, Sigma's dead and gone, and my penance has been paid. As far as I can see, I've done everything with those twits as I can. Overall, they're doing a good thing. It's just the way I handle things and the way they do differs. They had a problem with it for a long time. No more." Bristol put her hands on her hips and stared knives into him.
"I hear fine, you pompous jerk. It's what you're implying that I don't get. How can you turn your back on the place in life that has given you a chance to prove you're worth something?" Wycost yanked his glasses off, angrily returning the stare.
"I had nothing to prove, you mindless little boytoy." Bristol stepped back for a moment, shocked that Wycost would address her so disrespectfully. Wycost waited, priming his body for the attack. But his attempt to prod her into action failed. Bristol folded her arms and began to tap her foot.
"Nice try, Wycost. Goading doesn't get my goat." Wycost grunted.
"Good. It's nice to see you have some control over that rage of yours." Wycost slipped his shades back on. "Anything else you'd care to tell me about, because it won't affect my decision to leave. Speak now, or head back." Bristol frowned.
"Just one question; what were you planning to do after this?" Wycost shrugged.
"I'll probably go get a job somewhere. Why?" Bristol shrugged, her eyes still burning fiercely.
"Just thought I'd tell you there's a thing called URFAWP looking for recruits. If you want to make a difference by peaceful means, they're your group." Wycost stood still for a moment, then harrumphed.
"Thanks for the tip. You take care of yourself. I'd hate to wreck your pretty face because you got in my way." Wycost left on that note, leaving behind a semi-angered Bristol. Bristol put her hands on her hips for a moment before finally shutting her eyes and screaming.
She jumped high in the air, dashing upwards and then towards a lightpost on the side of the road. With one mighty drill kick, Bristol severed the sturdy metal post in half. She landed before the wreckage did. Turning, she brushed back the loose strands of hair and pointed a finger at the now almost invisible figure of Wycost walking off.
"Nobody calls me a boytoy, bub. Just be lucky I didn't count that as Strike Three." Bristol then walked back to HQ, but a disturbing thought raced through her mind.
She had considered kicking his face in. When she had been surprised, her systems had taken in massive amounts of data for a possible fight with him. The same thing had happened when Wycost had kicked Cain's door in earlier.
But why did her systems do that? Why in flashes of fear and rage did she suddenly become close to a war machine?
Bristol didn't know. And if she didn't, it was doubtful anyone else would. After all, her memory had been wiped.
But her own problems vanished as a familiar figure walked out of the huge doors of HQ. Bastion walked towards Bristol with an inquisitive look on his face.
"Hey Bristol," Bastion yelled on his way. "What are you doing out here?" Bristol thought about just lying to Bastion, telling him she needed some fresh air.
But that would be avoiding the truth that Bastion's best troop had walked off the job. And somewhere inside of her, Bristol felt telling him was not only the right thing to do-
It was the only thing.