MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS
By Erico
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE SNAKE'S DEN
"Welcome to MHHQ." Zero grunted, dumping Andante off his shoulders. After a long warp back to base, Zero, Bastion, J.K. Horn and the two newly named reploid mystery men Allegro and Andante finally were where they all needed to be.
Horn stuffed his hands into a stark white lab coat he'd put on before leaving with the Hunters, although he still wore his blue blockers.
Bastion didn't let his eyes off of the scientist for a moment. Neither reploid smiled.
Of course, considering their long history, they didn't have much to smile about. Both had tremendous influences on the other's life.
And as Bastion folded his arms, letting some of the other Hunters drag Allegro and Andante into the interrogating room, he quietly remembered some of his old missions in the Islamic Jihad.
As wrong as it had been, morally and psychologically, Bastion knew that no one who had been in that conflict was any different.
Zero turned back to Bastion, speaking at long last. Bastion blinked, then frowned.
"Huh?" Zero shook his head.
"Didn't you hear me, Bas? You go take care of Allegro and Andante while I ask Horn some questions."
Bastion's eyes flared up.
"I want to interrogate Horn." Zero shook his hand, glaring at Bastion.
"I'm still your superior officer, Bastion. You and Horn aren't on the best of terms, and I'm not going to allow any possible conflicts to occur on my watch." Bastion bit his tongue, holding in the biting comment he wanted to say.
Zero knew Bastion wasn't too happy. But he didn't care about that.
Somehow, The Maverick Virus, URFAWP, Wycost, Horn and those two crazy reploids Allegro and Andante were all involved. And Zero really hated not knowing who to blow away…
"Come on Horn. We'll talk together in Cain's office." Horn grunted his approval, finally walking down the long corridors with Zero to the Hunter's leader, the old but abled Cain.
Bastion clenched his fist up as he saw Horn calmly walk away from him.
"One day from now, Horn…" Bastion said quietly. "One day from now, you'll be alone…and when that day comes, it would do you a world of good not to turn your back on me."
Bastion swiveled about, walking opposite from Zero and Horn. He had his orders, too.
Horn saw Bastion walk away, and he turned to Zero.
"How good is Bastion?" Zero blinked, unsure of the question. Horn shrugged. "As a Hunter…how good is he?" Zero scoffed.
"Pretty good. Almost as good as me, better than X if my blue friend isn't miffed. But Bastion always said the one person he'd never want to face was one of his men…"
"Who?" Horn asked.
"Wycost." Zero said calmly. Horn nodded, pulling out a datapadd with Wycost's data.
"Well, it makes sense. When Wycost showed up, we traced him to a transport from Japan. From there…it was unclear. But his personality profile was lousy, and he kept to himself." Horn shook his head. "I don't know how he thought he'd make good URFAWP material, with him being such a grouch."
"Maybe because he can blow a guy's head off from a mile away." Zero spat out. Horn winced at the comment.
"Hey, URFAWP was made for peace." Zero nodded.
"That may be…but we're not gonna know for sure until we get some definitive answers. And that can only come if you tell us EVERYTHING." Zero looked at Horn, his eyes boring on the aging scientist. "You get me? We take our job seriously, and if you've been lying to us, you won't like the end result."
"Peace at any cost." Horn hissed back. "You can keep your saber tucked away for now, Zero. I'm telling the truth when I say I don't know how Wycost got infected, or why my entire URFAWP transport was attacking everything in sight." Horn shook his head. "What's even more puzzling is the fact that the thing had WEAPONS. My transports lack ANY means of self defense. NOTHING. They're ducks in the water in a shooting war."
Zero and Horn plodded along. Zero chose to change the subject, knowing he would only further Horn's frustrations if he kept up with the URFAWP questions.
"So, you made it rich making weapons for Israel?"
"Correct. I quit, though. Decided I could have a more positive influence on things."
"Are you sure that you weren't scared out?" Zero asked, probingly. Horn paused, his tucked hands tightening up.
It was a good thing his eyes were covered, or Zero would have spotted the sudden flash of fear in them.
"Yes…" Horn whispered. "It was the Desert Fire."
"Bastion…"
"Horn, this is Central Command! We're picking up a large group of reploid Jihad warriors heading your way…they must have found your base!"
Horn lifted his head from the latest design schematics on his drawing board, frowning.
"Are you sure?"
A loud shuddering noise of an explosion overhead silenced all doubts in Horn's mind. "Oh, crud…" Horn leapt up to his feet, his face a mask of horror.
The other lab technoids were responding in kind, all of them reploids.
Only Horn looked like an aging human. That was what separated him from the rest.
"Seal down the lab! Begin evacuation procedures and ready the self detonation devices!"
The reploids scrambled about, working as quickly as they could.
The Jihad warriors came for two reasons; to destroy them and the base, and to take what would be useful for them later on.
Horn had been through this before, although it hadn't been as bad. An Israeli combat Unit had held the Jihad warriors off that time…of course, they'd had a bit more warning.
Out in the middle of the desert, this secluded locale's main point of defense was secrecy.
By some quirk of fate…They'd been discovered.
Horn held a backup copy of his data on a computer disk in his right hand as he shut down the computers and formatted the hard drives. The Islamic Radicals wouldn't be getting their hands on his newest technological breakthroughs today.
"How are we doing, people?" Horn grimaced, seeing the utter hopelessness they faced. As scientists, they could not fight.
They merely made the weapons of destruction.
A tech looked up from his console, his face furrowed in worry.
"It's bad, boss…The counterteams won't get here for another five minutes!" Horn clacked his teeth.
"This is bad…Very bad. We're like vontzes in their bed…and they're pulling out the disinfectant spray." Horn shook his head. "Are we fully shut down?"
All the techs nodded. Horn pounded his fist into his other palm.
"Then let's get the Hell out of here."
Just then, the door to the elevator of the upper level blew in. Two techs standing close to it were disintegrated instantly as the shrapnel and plasma tore them to atoms.
Horn froze.
No one came through, barging in with that kind of brashness…
No one but…
"Oh, Jehovah…" Horn wheezed. "LET'S MOVE IT! IT'S THE DESERT FIRE!"
That name chilled the circuits of every reploid tech in the lab.
The Desert Fire was the Jihad's best reploid warrior. His eyes blazed fiercely, his Buster sang with power, and he was ruthless to a T. Of course, this was all rumor.
No one had yet seen the Desert Fire…and lived.
Horn wasn't about to be another nameless victim.
He ran. The opposite door held the escape hatch.
The other Techs had the same idea as well.
But Horn could hear the screams of three of them as they were shot down by Plasma Fire.
And he also heard the insane laughter of the warrior.
The Desert Fire strikes again, Horn thought angrily.
But he managed to slip through the door alive, along with the two remaining Techs. The door slammed shut behind them, and Horn wasted no time in lowering the blast doors as well.
It was a second line of defense, but it wouldn't hold out long.
Horn took off down the hall, his associates in close pursuit. It was a mad dash, with the klaxons wailing.
If they could just make it to the hangar, escape could be obtained. There were several speeder bikes well suited for the desert environment there…
Just then, Horn could hear the doors behind him begin to give way, groaning under the heavy fire of their opponents.
Horn's face contorted even tighter as he gauged the distance.
"Curse the maker…" Horn muttered. He had been activated with no Dash Boots, and had never received them. He could only run…
And he knew his foe could dash.
The Desert Fire did more than dash.
He burned.
After a seemingly endless set of hallway, they at last reached the emergency hangar bay. Horn and the other Two Techs activated the Hover Cycles close by, leaping onto them and gunning the engines. Horn hit the door switch, which raised the metallic gate that overlaid the ramp up to the desert of Israel. The sand above blew down into the hangar, clearing the passageway, but also serving to prevent a clear view of the exit.
Horn gritted his teeth and prepared to gun the powerful engine of the bike.
There was only one escape now.
But as the sand settled, a figure suddenly became visible.
A figure whose eyes, sullen and sunken, were also burning with a fierce intensity.
Horn couldn't believe what he saw.
"Oh, no…" The Desert Fire had turned around, gone back up to the surface and waited for them. When they'd opened the hangar doors above, they had given themselves away.
Now, the Desert Fire, the Jihad's best reploid warrior had them cornered. If they tried to flee out the way they came, they would invariably find themselves staring into more Busters. If they gunned the engines and made a break for it, there was a good chance the warrior in front of them would claim at least one more victim.
The Desert Fire raised his Buster, the sand swirling about him in a cloak of mystery. Horn yowled angrily and released the throttle. His left hand's thumb pushed on the trigger of the handlegrip, activating the cannon hidden in the nose of the speeder bike.
The covering slipped back, and as Horn's cycle burned off of the paved floor and up the ramp, his cohorts in close pursuit, Horn found himself matching eyes with the reploid above.
Those eyes were sinister, looking for death. Horn found himself being frozen by the eyes at that moment, and he almost lost control.
By sheer will alone, Horn looked away from the burning optics of The Desert Fire, and pounded the fire switch on his left handlebar.
A burst of plasma fire ejected from the hidden cannon's snout, soaring along and slamming into the pavement at the attacker's feet.
The concrete chips flew up, gashing into the foe's face, causing him to yowl for a moment. But the Jihad warrior wasn't fazed for long, and as Horn drew closer, the hated killer readied his Buster, not taking the time to charge up.
Horn let the bike go to full power, charging at the crazed assasain in a head on crash.
The warrior fired off three shots. The first was a blow aimed at Horn's head. It missed his vitals by inches, instead melting one of his eyes and a side of his head into slag. The other two were more accurate, and the loud explosions behind Horn suddenly stopped the pain being fed to his brain.
Only he had survived.
Horn's bike slammed into the warrior at last, shoving him forth and jarring the wind out of him. The warrior howled in pain, raising his Buster again to eliminate Horn.
Horn hit the airbrake, and the Desert Fire, the most ruthless of all the Islamic reploid attack forces, was sent sprawling through the air, to tumble harshly onto the nearby dunes.
Horn wasted no time in regunning the engines and turning in a different direction.
The only direction which safety held…Towards Jerusalem.
But even that wouldn't be safe for long, Horn thought wryly.
He had been marked, a mark for life from The Desert Fire. Perhaps he would keep the scars from that encounter…just to remind him.
To remind him that by some miracle, he had lived.
"I am going to get my sorry carcass out of this warzone…" Horn wheezed. The injury was more severe than he thought it had been. Decreasing his speed to make up for the lack of visual acuity, Horn pulled back his quivering thumb from the trigger of the bike's blaster.
"Never again…" Horn muttered. "Weapons, fighting, death…There has to be a better way." Horn raised his head, his good eye staring ahead with a greater focus.
Now he knew what we would do after he got out of the weapons manufacturing business for Israel.
"Time to put all my royalties to good use…" Horn said quietly. "World Peace must be obtained by nonviolence. Otherwise, it's only temporary."
But even as Horn was miles away, he could still feel the burning eyes of The Desert Fire, glaring into him.
That was one person that would haunt Horn for years to come.
"Horn, you listening?"
"Hmm…?" Horn's optics focused back in, and once more he was staring at Zero, frowning at him.
Cain was also looking on with curious interest, his arms folded. Horn let his right hand go up to his face.
The scars were still there. One large robotic optic had replaced the one Bastion had blown out so many years ago.
In a different life…
Only now, that life had come back to haunt them both.
"Sorry…" Horn muttered. "I'm not exactly up to par yet." Horn looked up, finally slipping his blue blockers to rest on his hair. "Mind if I go take a bit of a breather?"
Cain's hawkish eyes scrutinized J.K. Horn for a long time. Finally, he shrugged and looked over to Zero.
"I don't see why not. Just don't leave the base, and don't run into Bastion. If you two met, there'd be a bit more fireworks than I'd like to have at the moment." Horn's eyes narrowed.
"I don't think that is going to be a problem. I'm as inclined to want to speak with Bastion as I am to stick my head into a vat of corrosive acids." Cain grunted.
"Good. And while you're at it, check in with Hazil at the Medical Bay. I think we should also take the precaution of giving you a preliminary scan."
"Scan?"
"For the Virus." Cain said shortly. Horn understood the meaning. They were willing to let him walk on his leash, but they wanted him to take his rabies shot like a good dog.
"Very well." Horn said in a tone of surrender. Zero watched carefully as Horn walked out the door.
Cain kicked his feet up, frowning at the Crimson Hunter.
"How on the level do you think he's being with us?" Zero shrugged, not looking directly at Cain.
"Hard to say. One, he's a reploid. Two, he's highly intelligent, which could give him the possibility to lie, and do it well. And we still have yet to establish some clear connections between Horn, URFAWP, Allegro and Andante, and the Maverick Virus and Wycost."
Cain shook his head.
"Shaddap! Aich, too much information." Cain rubbed the bald spot on his head.
"All right. Keep me posted." Zero clacked his teeth.
"That's about all I do for ya anymore. Where are the days we used to play golf…"
"They vanished around the same time Sigma's first Revolt smashed my leg to uselessness." Zero groaned.
"Oh, gimme a break…I've been KILLED. And you still whine about your leg?" Cain grinned widely.
"I have to have something. With no liver spots, rotting teeth or arthritis, what else is there to complain about?" Zero nodded.
"Aah, yes. Classic male human aging. You get old, you get creaky, and you complain about lost control." Zero kicked himself towards the door. "I'm getting out of here before you make hair sprout from my nose."
"You'd best watch yourself, Zero, or I'm gonna open up a can of Ben Gay on yo' sorry BEEHIND!" Cain bellowed loudly, beaming brightly.
Zero snorted as the door slid behind him. Cain pulled out a bottle of water and slugged down a sip before capping it back shut and placing it on his desk.
"I somehow get the feeling we've let the lions into the mansion." Cain muttered softly. "Zero, keep an eye on everyone…I don't think my stick could silence a riot."
"Yellow? Anyone home?" Horn's voice was a bit unsteady as he walked into the confines of the Medical Bay, the metallic door sliding shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss.
One figure sitting in a chair, half asleep, righted himself and stared with cold icy eyes towards him. Dressed in battle armor, the figure was gray, with tinges of white and gold trimmings. He sat beside the motionless bedridden figure of another reploid, but this one obviously in far worse condition.
While Horn could see that the dark green reploid, more black than anything was cleaned up and repaired for the most part, he could also see the delicate markings that came along with repairs.
"He's not in terrific shape, is he?" Horn said, motioning to the sleeping reploid. The gray one didn't speak, but sagely nodded his head.
"He's infected with the Maverick Virus." Horn swiveled his head in surprise at the new voice, and found himself staring face to face with a reploid carefully wiping his hands onto a towel.
Horn narrowed his eyes at the individual, and the other figure did the same.
"You look a lot like me, you know that?" Horn said cautiously. The other one shrugged.
"We both have gray hair, if that's what you mean. Also the worn scars of life…" The reploid pointed to the side of his face, where a jagged healed scar lay. "Some are more visible than others. I'm Hazil, the HQ's Medical Reploid Doctor."
Horn shook Hazil's hand, finding the grip firm.
"Infected where? I thought the Virus had been eliminated!" Horn said with a new sense of worry. Hazil frowned.
"So did we…then Wycost here turned up in India…on one of your transports." Horn sighed.
"Well, you know who I am then." Hazil nodded.
"J.K. Horn, ex-Israeli scientist, and foudner of URFAWP." Horn raised his eyebrows at the first comment made, and Hazil grinned. "When you're in the British Military, a lot of things aren't so classified. But I left, too. I work here now." Horn grunted.
"It seems a lot of us had some past Military career." Hazil made a noise in the back of his throat like a 'yeeep' and smiled.
"The pay sucks, that's why I joined up here." Horn raised another eyebrow.
"You serious?" Hazil chortled.
"Course not! I left because a friend asked me to." Hazil waved his about the bay. "So, what are you in for?" Hazil said, his voice taking on a serious tone. Horn shook his head.
"Cain and Zero would appreciate it if I took the time to be scanned for the Virus."
"Well, let's just take a look then…" Horn reached over to his tool tray and pulled a Medical Scanner from it. Activating the device, he swept the probe up and down Horn's body. Watching the scan complete itself, Hazil finally grunted in acknowledgement and turned the device off. "Sorry to rain on their parade, but you're clean." Hazil shrugged. "At least, by all current Virus configurations. The batch Wycost got hit with is a new strain…if it was the old one, he wouldn't be infected." Horn raised an eyebrow.
"Why? Is he immunized?" Hazil shook his head, giving a wry smile.
"Not quite. Some reploids, by sheer willpower alone have been able to face the Virus in the reaches of their subconscious mind. I don't know how it works exactly, but X, Wycost, and Zero have all experienced it. You face the Virus on a miniscule level, all of it against you in a battle for control of your body, mind and sanity." Hazil gritted his teeth. "It's the ultimate test of a warrior. Wycost did it ALONE. When X and Zero faced it, they had each other."
Horn nodded.
"I saw the reports on Wycost when he was in URFAWP. Strong willed, didn't talk much. Secluded himself, and was on speaking terms only with another reploid by the name of Isaiah." Hazil rubbed his chin.
"Yeah, that's Wycost. A thing to know about him, Horn. Be his foe, and you're more than likely to be destroyed in the next few cycles. Be his friend, through a long and arduous process, and Wycost becomes your best pal for life."
Doan coughed for a moment before returning to his vigil, breaking Hazil out of his trance.
"And we still haven't been able to…" Hazil stopped himself. He looked at Horn, in a look that was a cross between guilt and sympathy. "Sorry, I can't tell you that. Regulations." Horn grunted.
"Discrimination, you mean."
"NO." Hazil let his eyes flare up. "Patient doctor DISCRETION."
Thankfully, the door slid open again at that moment. And in walked a figure of beauty, Bristol.
Horn let his eyes stare in awe at the newcomer. Hazil only harrumphed.
"Back again, Bris?" Bristol held out a datapadd, her eyes weary.
"I've been able to figure out the proper metals, but as far as finding the right variables for Electromagnetic Repulsion itself…not to mention the storage capabilities this thing needs..it's getting impossible." Hazil grumbled, slapping himself in the face.
"Maybe we bit off more than we could chew with this new Flight Armor."
Horn voiced his presence in the room with a loud cough. Bristol and Hazil looked over, and Hazil spoke.
"Yeah, Horn?" Horn smiled a broad smile, looking more at Bristol than Hazil.
"I made a living designing prototype weapons systems. Perhaps I could help." Hazil blinked, then looked over to Bristol.
"It all right with you?" Bristol shrugged.
"I don't see why not. All right Horn…" Bristol underhanded the datapadd to Horn, who caught it easily. "This Flight Armor is designated 'Angel's Advantage.' It doesn't have thrusters of any kind, and relies on…"
"I'm seeing it." Horn's smiling eyes had vanished into a concentrated glare at the stats. "Sweet mother of pearl…this thing is YEARS beyond its time. Genius is at work here, fellows." Horn looked up, and winked at Bristol. "Female genius." Horn looked back to the stats, then downloaded the data to Hazil's console.
"I think I can help you out with this. Hazil, could you bring up the 3-D schematic?" Hazil thought for a long moment, then hit the necessary commands. The silvery white wings, streaked down the lateral axes with jagged golden lightning bolts, slowly rotated in the freedom of cyberspace. Hazil took one last look at Wycost, and satisfied that Doan was maintaining the vigil, looked back to Horn's work.
"Bristol, I'm seeing a combination of systems not thought of before. Electromagnetic repulsion actuators, Bipolar discharge Wing Blasters, and a recharge capability that relies on friction with the very air this thing flies in…" Horn nodded. "Brilliant. But it's a pipe dream unless we can nail down some of the more technical factors to it." Horn nodded again.
"First off, the stats on this sucker." Horn said, his smile wide. "What you need the most right now, is basically the adaptive equipment so this thing will always be in control of how much it repels itself from the earth. For that, you need experience with antigravity systems." Horn jerked a thumb at himself. "Which I happen to have. Hold on a sec while I upload something here…"
Horn's fingers flew in a blur over the keys as he tapped out a rudimentary program for the controls. He hummed to himself as he went along.
Bristol and Hazil watched in awe as the lights in the room seemed to dim. Horn was firing on all pistons, and the results were astonishing.
Finally, Horn turned himself about and nodded.
"Finished. It's closely connected with the main program of the suit itself, so I had a little more time to worry about the versatility. Also while I was at it, I gave the thing dual capability and an energy buffer."
"Ehh?" Bristol said, her expression puzzled. Hazil snorted in disgust, and Horn scratched the back of his head.
"Lemme explain. I made sure for one thing that this suit won't be disabled by EMP pulses. Considering that it WORKS with Electromagnetic energy, that was a bit easier…just some minute alterations of the nanocircuitry. Also, I made sure this thing won't go up in flames. Each wing now has its own set of functions, with the main processor for both in the joint connector pack from which they emanate. That means, if one of them gets shot up to hell, the other wing will respond for the lack of control, and compensate thusly. Whoever you're making this for will be very safe flying Air Horn." Horn chuckled at the joke.
Bristol couldn't believe what she was hearing, or seeing for that matter.
J.K. Horn had just remodified the suit.
And not only had he made it work, he'd also made it better. Horn didn't stop however, his mouth shooting off as fast as his mind.
"If you really want to go all out, I'd increase the armor durability on the center joint of the wings. The flyers themselves need to be made out of the metal you already have them designated as, otherwise the electromagnetic repulsion principles it uses won't work. The joint however houses the crucial control circuitry, and you'll wanna protect that for all its worth."
"Horn…thank you." Bristol said softly. His smile was intoxicating, and soon she too was beaming brightly. "I think this may actually fly now."
Horn cocked his thumb and forefinger at the console screen and winked.
"Once a designer, always a designer. But you're welcome." Bristol downloaded the new data to her portable datapadd and began to walk towards the door.
"I'm going to go see if our stores have the necessary materials." Hazil waved a hand, making sure to keep his own emotions buried under indifference. When the door slid shut, Horn sighed, and leaned against an empty bed.
"She's something, isn't she?" Hazil harrumphed for a moment, then brought up the newest Medical Reports he had to look over. Horn wasn't fazed by the brusqueness.
"Is she taken? I think that perhaps she'd enjoy a night of my com…"
"She's taken." Hazil chirped, not bothering to turn his head. Horn halted himself, then pouted his face.
"Aah, poo. I don't think the other person would mind if I just took her out for a drink…"
"Oh, trust me, He'd mind." Hazil chuckled softly. Horn rapped his fingers on the bed and got to his feet, slyly looking at Hazil.
"How can you be so sure? Who's her main squeeze?" Hazil stopped his typing and swiveled about in his seat.
Hazil's eyes were full of mocking scorn, a tinge of disbelief, and also a titch of glaring hatred.
"You sure you wanna know, Horn? I don't think you'll like the answer." Horn snorted.
"Oh, come now. Who is it? X? Zero?"
"Bastion." Horn's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened.
Then the slow burning anger set in.
"Him." Horn shrugged, letting the sour mood leave him. "I suppose its possible for people to change…but still, I am jealous." Hazil snorted.
"Hey, only a few people in HQ know about their feelings. And if you SPREAD THAT AROUND, you'll have not only Bastion, but me at your throat."
"I can keep quiet." Horn said succinctly. He sighed. "Aah, a young fawn like her would never go for an aging bear like me anyway." The twinkle in his eye restored itself. "But we can dream."
"Dream all you like, Horn." Hazil said. "Just get the Hell outta my office. You did your good deed, and you're not infected. With those two things taken care of, I suggest you let me get back to the care of Wycost." Horn clapped his hands together and held his palms out to Hazil.
"No sweat, doc. I'm vapor." Horn walked out of the office, wondering where he should go next.
Hazil turned back to Wycost. Doan was still there, his eyes somewhat less bleary than before. But still, he noted that Doan was out of it.
"Doan, why doncha go get some food?"
"My reactor is running normally." Doan said blearily, the words coming out with less clarity than usual. Hazil snorted.
"If you're gonna be dumb about it, at least do yourself a favor and take a nap." Doan shook his head.
"I have to stay with Wycost…I owe him that much." Hazil tapped the side of his arm, then sighed.
"All right Doan. I'll tell you what. Five hours from now, we'll try and wake Wycost up…and get rid of the Virus as well. But for now, get yourself some sleep. Whatever debt you feel you owe him can't be repaid if you're too tired to talk straight."
Doan considered the option for a moment.
For once, Hazil was making sense.
"All right." Doan said resignedly. He picked himself up, walked over to an empty medical bed, plopped himself down on it and promptly activated his stasis mode.
Hazil shook his head.
"Out like a light. Of course, he's been up for 2 days straight now." Hazil checked his figures.
"Five hours from now…all righty then. Not enough time to get to Cossack's and back…I'll have to do that tomorrow. For now though, I think I'll take a snooze too." Hazil's musings were loud, as loud as his grayish hair that sprouted from his skull. As he plopped back into his comfortable reclining chair, Hazil chuckled a bit.
"Too bad Horn didn't know who he was making that Flight Armor for. If he did, he might have made a different choice." Hazil grinned. "I don't think Bastion will mind much, though. I'll just have to remember to tell Bristol not to mention his role in their development…for a while yet anyhow."
"Wake up." A dousing of cold water slammed into Allegro's face, causing the groggy reploid to sputter and spit angrily. He found his hands bound by energy chains, and his legs kept in heavy locks.
Allegro had been disabled. He couldn't move, he could only see. At least he wasn't blindfolded.
When his optics whirred into focus and compensated for the light, Allegro identified his surroundings. Andante was beside him, as hogtied as he was. A frowning face was looking down at them, a face with long spiky brown hair and a definite mean streak.
"You." Allegro said angrily, his mouth curling up into a snarl. The Hunter raised his hand.
"Now just simmer down, Allegro." Allegro did, more out of disbelief the Hunter knew his name. The Hunter nodded. "Yeah, I know who you are, and your brother Andante. Just so we're on the level, you can call me Bastion. I have more than a few questions for you two…one is based on the events just recently, and the other is based more on why you two decided to attack Canark, and I suspect several other reploids."
"Canark?" Allegro said questioningly, letting the puzzlement of his mind seep into his voice. "Hey, I don't know any Canark. I just know you helped defend Horn."
"It wasn't my idea of a mission objective either." Bastion snapped. "Still, seeing you opens old wounds…and makes a few new ones. So if we all want to get along, you tell me everything you know, and you tell me honestly."
Allegro brooded over that for a long time. He looked over to Andante, silent and stonefaced about their situation.
"All right. But I want to know just where we are." Bastion shrugged.
"Maverick Hunter HQ, Tokyo Japan. Right now, we're all in the detention area."
"What about our weapons?" Andante asked calmly. Bastion snorted.
"Impounded." Andante sighed.
"Please return them soon." Bastion shook his head.
"What, so you can escape?" Allegro coughed.
"Our foe exists in this building. Horn. But those beam staffs are valuable and irreplaceable items in our inventory." Bastion folded his arms.
"Just where did you pick them up?" Allegro grinned.
"We found them." Bastion glared, his eyes narrowing.
"I told you to come clean."
"He is." Bastion turned to Andante, who looked up at him with calm and honest eyes. "We did find them, while rummaging through an shipment once." Bastion clacked his teeth.
Something told him Andante was being on the level.
"All right. Moving away from your weapons, why do you wanna take out Horn so badly?"
Allegro and Andante brooded over it for a long time. Finally, Allegro lifted his head and looked at Bastion with hollow eyes.
"You've seen what resulted in that Wycost person. Well, we also received a similar experience ourselves. But we had one thing that Wycost didn't: Each other."
Andante shook his head.
"Our attacker was heavily robed. We couldn't make out too many features, save for a pair of glowing red eyes and clawed hands."
"We barely escaped. Everyone else on the transport was killed or infected by him…" Bastion listened intently as the two reploids continued to talk.
"Who else BUT Horn could set that up?" Allegro finally said, angrily staring at Bastion.
For a moment, Bastion almost agreed. But sanity stopped him.
He wasn't Maverick. And he wasn't rogue.
"Just what did this shadowy attacker say to you?" Andante coughed for a moment, shaking his head.
"He said enough. He said that it was time to take the next step in loyalty to our cause."
Bastion nodded. It certainly did seem to indicate that Horn was involved. But then his eyes shifted, darkening.
Bastion still suspected these two of trying to kill him. It was possible that they could be lying now.
"I think we should continue this later then." Bastion finished. Allegro and Andante looked up at him, their faces harboring some disgust. Bastion returned it. "I'm not Horn's greatest fan either. But he's in the base with us, so stop worrying. The Snake, as you call him is in the den."
Bastion walked out of the confinement chamber, then motioned to Gavin. Gavin hit a command on his console, and the opening to the place where Allegro and Andante were sealed itself with an energy barrier.
The shackles which bound the reploid's hands shut off, then hovered back into the wall for later use. Allegro rubbed his wrists, then looked over to Bastion.
"So, you gonna keep us in here?" Bastion nodded.
"Until we get things straightened out." Bastion looked over to Gavin, his eyes serious again.
"Keep a close eye on them. Call Kol and Jad if you get bleary. I don't want these two guys to BLINK and you not see it, all right?"
Gavin nodded his head quickly, then hit the comm button for his two cohorts.
"The trio won't fail you." Bastion nodded.
"You haven't yet, Gavin. I don't think you will."
Wycost was half dead.
The floating Virus, mutated beyond what he had first seen it as, was just behind him. Its presence was a constant reminder to the utter futility of his struggles.
It had gained him only pain. The Virus had yet to break a sweat. His armor was in scraps, the terrain was unfriendly. His head cringed in pain with every cycle of the floating behemoth's existence.
I told you it was useless to face me, Wycost.
Wycost groaned in response, too weak to throw a retort back. He knew that all of this was nothing more than the subconscious circuitry of his mind, and that all of this was in his head.
But the battle was real. The Virus was winning.
Correction: I HAVE won, the virus laughed darkly, the waves of its laughter slamming into Wycost's head and causing him to scream.
The pain brought him back to life. It jolted his senses into order.
"Not…yet…" Wycost panted. By sheer will alone, he picked himself up, and tuned to face the floating darkness of wires and moaning faces. "You…haven't won…yet…" Wycost stuttered, his right eye twitching, threatening to shut down at any moment.
You are strong, Hunter. The Virus now spoke in anger and disgust at him.
It was annoyed that he had held out so long. Most fell victim in moments.
This Wycost had held out for days. The mind numbing blasts of the three imperative commands hadn't fazed him. Only by adapting to speak to him as a voice…as a ghost, had the Virus managed to wear him down.
Several times, Wycost had almost overcome it. Whenever he raised his Buster in the subconscious plane of stasis, the Virus cringed, feeling the reploid's systems build up energy for a cleansing delete of the foreign invader.
The Virus had been able to halt his worrisome attacks by shaping itself into the appearance of a close friend of the green Hunter.
Just then, something happened that hadn't occurred in days.
A bright blinding flash suddenly lit up the darkness that had existed in Wycost's mind for many cycles.
It caught both Wycost and the Virus by surprise.
What the…?! Wycost picked up the stunned expression emanated by the Virus, who in its disbelief had forgotten it was still transmitting.
"The light…" Wycost blurred. "They're…trying to wake me up!"
The fools…the Virus cackled, its composure restored. They may think that it will be you who wakes up, but it will be me. The Virus pulled away from Wycost, floating up into the air. Its destination was a floating spark of light that represented the gateway to consciousness…to the control of the body.
If the Virus got there, its control would be complete again. If it got there, Wycost would be crammed into a small corner of the mind.
Wycost wouldn't be Wycost if the Virus reached that light beacon.
"NO!" For the first time in days, a powerful fury erupted around Wycost, giving him newfound strength. His body stood tall, and his vision cleared.
He was running on sheer terror alone.
Terror because if the Virus took control, there would be trouble. Wycost knew what he was capable of. If the Virus became him, took full control…
There would be no stopping it.
Everyone Wycost knew would be dead. Everyone he cared about. Killed off in the same manner that Isaiah had vanished as.
The horror on his face as Wycost's Buster raised, charged, then fired.
Isaiah had vanished in the white hot blast from Wycost's Buster.
Wycost could just see the others vanishing in the same way.
"I won't let you do it!" Wycost yowled. His right hand vanished, shifting seamlessly into his Buster.
His eyes burned bright fire at the ascending mass of blackness.
"You Demon…COME BACK AND FIGHT ME!" Wycost fired off a semi charged shot.
For the first time since Wycost had been infected, the Virus screamed.
The subconscious mind of Wycost, the very core of his spirit had struck back at the invader in his systems. It had activated the countermeasure defenses within his body, the nanobots in his bloodstream that repaired his damage and gave energy boosts to ailing subcircuitry. The nanobots had taken on a separate role now, the same role that they had fulfilled midway through the Fifth Maverick Uprising.
Wycost's body was fighting back. Wycost's body was purifying itself.
Back in the arean of his mind, Wycost heard the earth shattering cry of his foe.
The black swirling mass of wires, energy and moaning faces began to descend, turning on him with animal ferocity.
How dare you…
"Shut up." Wycost growled. He fired off another shot, slamming it into the very center of the Virus's core. Another scream that echoed through his mind.
Wycost took the loud scream, kept his cool as it slammed through his brain.
The Virus retaliated, shifting seamlessly into the image of Isaiah, full bodied.
Wycost…why are you doing this? Wycost gritted his teeth, fluid clouding his optics.
"You're a sick illusion…you twist and pervert anything to slink along!" Wycost screamed, firing off another shot.
This time, the plasma took a chunk of the Virus's mass with it, subliminating steam evaporating a two feet square area of darkness.
It changed again…This time it was Doan.
Wycost, please! Doan's hands waved, bleeding with torn servomotors showing.
Wycost fired again. Another scream from the mass…
Another shift. Bastion.
What makes you think you can stop the Virus, Wycost? Fighting it has only brought more death and suffering to the world! Wycost yowled, for that phrase sunk in deeper than the others.
But his rage granted him clarity.
"Noo…YOU'RE NOT BASTION!" Wycost fired again.
Now the Virus was only half there.
And it shifted one last time…
Wycost found himself staring into a mirror image. A dark, soulless mirror image.
It raised a tattered finger, its shattered glasses uncovering the dark hollow sockets that stared into him.
You are me now, Wycost. You have killed everyone to survive…The ghost laughed. It backed off, looking at Wycost and laughing shallowly. You are no better than me…you are a blight, a force of death and destruction. Nothing in your life has brought joy to the masses. It has only brought despair!
Wycost's knees went weak. Those words did more damage than the past hellish days had done to him.
"I…I…"
You are become death, the destroyer of worlds.
Wycost realized at long last a terrible truth, the one shard of crystal purity in his life.
The Virus was right.
He was death.
"I am a threat to few…You are a threat to many." Wycost's eyes were tired, the fire had left them.
The anger of Wycost had evaporated at long last.
The fire that had driven him his entire life was finally doused.
He raised his Buster to his mirror image and nodded.
"To that end…You're going down before me." The Virus shut its eyes, waiting for the blast to come.
It was a large one, so bright it blinded Wycost.
And at long last, he was clean. Self deletion had repeated itself.
Wycost lowered his Buster, trembling softly. He let it shift back into a hand.
With the Virus gone, the light was drawn towards him. Wycost sadly recognized it for what it was.
Reality.
A reality in which his only mission had been to destroy.
"He's coming out of it…" Doan said softly.
Wycost's eyes blurred back to life, granting light a chance to shine on him. Doan's hand went down and pushed on Wycost's chest, stopping him from rising.
Doan's face was set stern, but his eyes twinkled, with a twinge of joy.
"Don't move, pal. You just woke up from a very bad nightmare."
Wycost found his energy levels were incredibly low, and drowsiness overcame him.
Hazil shook his head at the stats.
"When we woke you up Wycost, I was able to identify the Virus. It's changed a bit…but it's the same old piece of Software code we've been fighting for years. By some miracle, you overcame it again!"
Wycost shut his eyes.
"I didn't overcome it." His body began to quiver slightly. "I destroyed it." Hazil shook his head.
"Yeah, so? That's how you've always done it!" Wycost's left hand clenched up.
"Death…its always how I've handled things. Death." Wycost choked out a sob. "It's all I've ever dealt, all I've ever made a living in. I'm no better than the Virus…No better than a Maverick…I AM MY OWN ENEMY!!" Wycost cried out.
At long last, he broke down. His ordeal had clarified his existence, tested his boundaries, and pushed him beyond his ability to a new level.
But most of all, it had made him realize something.
He was as much of a threat as Sigma.
Weariness at last took its toll on him, and Wycost slipped back into stasis.
Hazil shook his head at the new data.
"I don't understand him at all anymore…"
Doan silently traced Wycost's arm, noting how his armor had restored itself to its natural green. The black line was more pronounced than before, though.
"I do." Doan said quietly. He turned to look at Hazil, his eyes clear as day. "Wycost has undergone a terrible ordeal within himself. Taking on the Virus a second time has tested him to his limits. When he wakes up, he'll be able to tell us everything that happened…until he does, we can only know this."
Doan got up, and for the first time since he had arrived in the Bay, finally walked towards the door.
"I can tell you this, though. The Wycost that wakes up tomorrow will be a new one. The Wycost of fury, of hatred and indifference is gone forever. He also has mutated."
Doan walked out of the Bay, and the door slid shut.
At long last, only Hazil and Wycost remained in the bay. Hazil shook his head.
"We all change in life. Wycost has always been an example of extremes…I can only wonder what he'll become next."