MEGA MAN X: THE SOUND OF MAVERICKS
By Erico
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: REBIRTH OF THE BLIGHT
After being kept on standby for months, the silent self maintaining underground base activated by outside command. Lights, not turned on since their original installation activated. The air filters whirred into overtime, making clear this base was built for long term hibernation.
Someone had built this place to last…built it for a very different reason than most facilities.
That someone finally walked in through the airlock from the ground above. Its feet scuffled on the cold concrete floor, but he didn't notice.
There were other things on his mind. Like the alternate personality he had harbored for more than a year.
A very long and very difficult year.
"But we survived…"The raspy voice cackled. "Oh, we most definitely survived, my master." The response was a pulse from the second personality in his head. The hulking monster in the newly activated base blinked his bright red eyes, shining from the depths underneath his cloak. "What did you say? You want to pout?"
A blaring thought smashed through his mind, making the creature wince and grab onto his head with a pair of furry, metallic clawed hands. "Don't hurt me! So you want out…" The creature lowered his hands. "That can be arranged. For now, let's get you into the main computer. After that, we'll see about building you a new body."
The brown cloaked figure, insane beyond anyone's descriptions plodded over to the large main console and slipped out the disk drive slot tray. He pulled back the right sleeve of his cloak, revealing his arm.
It was thin, wiry, and muscular, with a fine layer of fur covering the metallic limb. A rattling shackle was still connected on its wrist, for with all the work, secretive and necessary as it was for their mission, the creature had never had time to remove it.
It still angered him. At long last in this place, he would be able to remove it.
But the first order of business was carrying out one crucial command that was close to hardwired in his brain.
SURVIVE.
His hand spouted blackness, a plethora of forces that swarmed onto the drive.
The small wave of computerized energy and nanobots also carried a chip the size of a Triscuit.
It was an ominous chip, one that held the data for a dark individual…and a dark mission.
Finally, freed of the second voice in his mind that had existed for hundreds of cycles, the hulking clawed creature cackled even louder.
"I…I'm me again!" The Control Chip held by the nanobots was finally inserted and connected to the core of the computer.
The data…the personality of the individual on it flowed freely through the machine, infecting it but making sure to preserve all the functions the computer held. Finally, the giant monitor overhead flickered to life.
A wire frame head…a green wire frame head, bald and frowning. The synthesized voice was accurate to the being who it belonged to.
"I lost contact with the Virus connected to Wycost." The head's voice was deep, growly, a low bass tonal. The cloaked figure pulled the garment that had hidden his figure for so long off of his body and cackled.
"Even so, that self delete will have tortured him more than anything. We…we have mutated." The wire head on the screen blinked.
"Wycost will tell them all he knows. The element of surprise will be lost…we must act quickly." The clawed figure activated a nearby plasma torch, slicing the shackles off of his arms. Rubbing the part where they had scratched against for 4 seasons, the reploid cackled.
"So, we attack." The head shook back and forth.
"First, we prepare the assault. I assume that this place has regenerative capabilities?" The reploid staring up at the screen sniffed, his red eyes flashing brightly, gleaming off of the sharp teeth in his mouth.
"Of course! I followed your instructions to the letter…More correctly, the URFAWP fools I infected with the low level Virus followed them. I was just the Foreman!"
"A good one at that. Who shall we bring back to life from our last Uprising?"
The bushy tailed figure tapped the side of his arm, pondering the question.
"The big guns, Sigma. The big guns." The head nodded.
"So, I assume this to be..?"
"Narwhal. Koala. Albatross. Meerkat…and of course, you have me, Sigma."
"I could not forget you." The head said calmly. "It is thanks to you I am still alive today, and not rotting in the sewers under Tokyo." The head activated the necessary commands.
Ten feet away, five synthesizing tubes bubbled into life, each holding the data for the reploid they were to recreate.
Within moments, each of the keypads connected to the tubules were flashing instructions.
Nitro Narwhal.
Killer Koala.
Airborne Albatross.
Megavolt Meerkat.
Sigma.
The laughter filled the underground room again as the two Mavericks cackled loudly.
"With the generals restored, it will take only a few commands to rally our URFAWP troops. The Mavericks live again…"
"The Hunters thought they had won…" Sigma mused. "Those optimistic fools were mistaken."
There came a knock at Bastion's door. Lifting his head from the latest reports, the pushed his chair back from the small desk.
"Yes?" Bastion asked, getting up from his seat. Yawning, he realized that after this he'd be ready for a long snooze. "Fourteen days…" Bastion said softly to himself.
The voice came through the door in easy response, timid and quiet.
"It's me." Bastion smiled widely.
"Bristol." Bastion shut the datapadd with his reports off, then walked over to the door. It slid open, to show Bristol smiling in return. She lifted up a flower and handed it to him.
"Evening, luv." Bristol looked about. "Can I come in?" Bastion shrugged.
"I've seen your room. I don't see why not." Bastion backed away from the door, letting Bristol walk into the spacious quarters. It was larger than other rooms, and Bristol assumed it came with the rank.
"Nice place, Bastion." Bristol said quietly. Bastion nodded.
"I keep my things in order. So, what's the special occasion?" Bastion's smile was soft, warm and tender compared to the psychoid grins he had harbored on occasion. Plopping back into his seat, Bastion turned the room lights up, unknowingly yawning again.
Bristol giggled in response, causing Bastion to frown and level a semi-annoyed gaze at her.
"What?"
"You yawned." Bastion shrugged.
"It happens when I get tired." Bristol shook her head, her own sad smile overpowering his.
"I have something to tell you that might perk you up." Bastion blinked, then shrugged.
"Yes?" Bristol tossed him a datapadd, and Bastion caught it easily.
"Turn it on." Bristol said wearily. Bastion did as he was told, watching the backlit screen flicker into existence, then bring up a 3-Dimensional model, softly rotating.
Bastion's eyes went wide as he saw it.
"Good Lord…It's…It's…"
"It's what I've been working on with Hazil for the past few days, Bastion. A replacement for your Powerstorm…an advanced replacement."
"Angel's Advantage…? What is that supposed to mean?" Bristol smiled faintly.
"Two things, Bastion. Two things which I know. Angels are warriors, strong and powerful like no other, with pure strength of will and purpose." Bristol raised her hand up, gently caressing his worn cheek, looking into his eyes with her own glistening blue orbs. "And also because…because you are my angel, Bastion."
Bastion, for one time in his life was speechless.
Because he could reciprocate.
He found himself bringing Bristol into a tight embrace, hugging her tightly to him.
"You're my angel, Bristol." Bastion said softly. Bristol laid her head on his shoulder, sniffing back the happy tear.
"I know."
"Thanks to you, I'll get to fly again."
"You never stopped flying, Bastion." Bristol said. "You never stopped flying."
Bastion yawned again, although this time it was more a yawn of contentment.
"I'm tired." Bastion said. "We should probably get to bed soon."
"I couldn't agree more." Bristol said. She pulled away from Bastion, then activated her warp controls. In a flash of light, she morphed into her periwinkle blue nightgown.
Bastion blinked, unsure of what she was doing. Then it hit him.
"You wanna stay here the night?" Bristol nodded, smiling softly.
"If you don't mind, Bastion. I just found you…I made a promise I wouldn't lose you. Please…don't let me be alone tonight."
Bastion got up, gently nodding his head.
"That's just fine, Bristol." Bastion smiled again, brushing the back of his head with a hand.
In another flash of warped light, Bastion removed his armor and shifted into a gray baggy T-Shirt and a black pair of sweat shorts.
They both climbed into the bed.
Then they just collapsed.
The day had been a long one for the both of them.
Being close to one another was all that they wanted. To reploids, there is no such thing as sex. There is just companionship.
Bristol fell asleep first, her small body radiating heat as she breathed softly against Bastion's chest.
Bastion stared at the ceiling for a while, his smile growing smaller as he dozed off.
He could be like this for a long time.
"Lucy, I'm HOOOME!" In the darkness of the underground caverns underneath Cossack's Citadel, a gruff and grouchy voice cracked the silence to shards.
Cossack jerked himself awake from his easy chair, and saw that Pharaoh Man who had been keeping an eye on him was on his feet, his steady eyes focusing on where the voice had come from.
"Voiceprint identified." Pharaoh Man said. Looking down at Cossack, he shrugged and let his Pharaoh Blaster shift back into a hand. "It's Hazil from the MHHQ."
Cossack frowned, then stumbled to his feet.
"Hazil? Hmm…he said he'd show up unexpectedly."
The footsteps of the approaching reploid were somewhat muffled in the dim, but not completely. Cossack sat back, breathing easily.
Pharaoh Man was here to protect him. He was the closest thing to a son Cossack had ever had.
Finally, the Medical reploid stepped into the lights of Cossack's command area, blinking for a moment while he lugged about a giant pack of tools and equipment.
"Hey, did I come here on the graveyard shift? C'Mon!" Pharaoh shrugged and activated all the lights in the underground command cavern.
Hazil covered his eyes for a moment, then finally opened them back up to look around. His eyes went wide, and he whistled in surprise.
"Nice place you got here."
"Thanks." Hazil swiveled his head to where the voice had come from, and found he was looking at one sitting figure, and one standing. The one standing was a Robot Master.
"So THERE you are!" Hazil harrumphed, making tracks to meet with them. Cossack smiled from his easy chair, waving a frail hand.
"Da, Comrade Hazil. So, you have finally come to our humble Citadel." Hazil nodded, putting his bag on the floor and taking a seat across from Cossack.
"Yep. This is the first chance I've had to get away from HQ…we've been busy. I'll be pretty sleep deprived when I get back." Cossack bowed his head.
"I am sorry we are so much trouble." Hazil baahed the comment and waved his hand.
"Hell, if I wasn't here, I'd more than likely be trying to get bombed outta my skull. These little trips do an aging reploid good. Just grab me whatever you have to drink that isn't alchohol, and point the way to the operating table." Hazil leveled his gaze at Pharaoh Man. "Speaking of which, who's my first customer for a refit?"
Pharoah shrugged.
"Me, of course. The others who volunteered for a refit, Ring Man, Drill Man, Toad Man and Bright Man will arrive as well. But I am their leader, and if I am expected to continue to be, it must be I who goes first." Hazil shrugged.
"Okely dokely then. Cossack, do you have your mitts on any high powered conducting coils and insulated wiring? I'd rather use some of your stuff than introduce any 21XX technology into them...just yet, anyways."
Cossack thought for a moment, then folded his arms.
"I know what you are referring to…the necessary equipment to increase the weapons power grid of my children. But I never got any for them…Still, there is one alternative. My Citadel guardians."
Hazil folded his arms, blinking unsteadily.
"Guardians?" Cossack nodded solemnly.
"Some of them were designed by Wily…Back when he held my daughter as ransom. While the design ideas were mine at the time, he gave them life, and substantial weapons systems. One in particular was supposed to be nothing more than a containment unit…he turned it into a moving wall of death."
Hazil shrugged.
"That may be all fine and dandy. Still, I don't see how that helps me with your 'bot's refits." Cossack grinned.
"You would be surprised. Come with me." Cossack picked himself up, using a walking stick to totter across the cold cement floor.
Hazil went unsteadily, wondering just what Cossack was referring to.
Finally, stepping in front of a hangar door, Cossack turned to face the reploid and grinned.
"This hangar may have what you need for the refits, Comrade Hazil. Just take a look…scrap what you need. They have not been called upon for forever." Hazil shrugged.
"If they were made by Wily, let's hope that they never will be again." Cossack shrugged.
"Still, their systems have more power than my Robot Master's…and the parts are from the same age. Surely, that should help." Hazil rubbed his hand on his head, then pointed to the door.
"Crack 'er open." Cossack raised a remote control, his eyes once more shining with a glint of excitement after many years. He pressed the button, and waited.
The door slid open slowly, raising itself upwards. Light poured into the darkness, barely revealing the contents. Another button push turned the lights on inside, startling Bright Man. His bulb dimmed as the other light replaced it, and he looked at Cossack inquisitively. Cossack chuckled.
"Bright Man, this is Hazil. He'll be performing your refits." Bright Man took in the data, then blinked in confirmation.
"Shall I assume then that your presence here is to obtain parts from the Guardian Collection?" Hazil nodded, cocking a thumb and forefinger at the Robot Master.
"You're not half dumb." Bright Man gave a half smile.
"I am no dim bulb." Hazil busted a gut at the joke. Sergei Cossack also beamed, finally seeing his creation respond to a new stimuli. Bright Man nodded his head.
"As the chief tour guide for the Citadel's moneymaking operation, my Artificial Intelligence protocols have adapted for human interaction at various levels." Hazil shook his head.
"I'm a reploid…Damn close to human." Bright Man frowned, then let his eyes relax.
"Aah, yes. Reploids, highly advanced robots with Human Emotion and thought processes, plagued by the Maverick Virus and hundreds of incidents of Racism." Hazil sighed.
"It isn't a happy life." Hazil finally turned away from Bright Man, looking at the rest of the bay.
That's when he noticed the giant creations. Five of them, all still as menacing as when Mega Man had destroyed them the first time about back in his heyday.
"Sweet Swirling Onion Rings…" Hazil whistled, stepping back to absorb it all. A giant mothlike robot with a energy focusing crystal, colored pink and almost every color of red. On its tail end was a menacing harpoon.
Beside it was a solid cube. Cossack pressed a switch, and the giant gray mass lifted itself into the air as the engines activated. The cube separated itself into three parts, sliding apart to reveal an empty interior. Cossack grinned.
"The first one was Melee Moth. The second is what I call The Cage…it traps anyone inside of it and keeps them there." Cossack pointed over to a pair of identical, long legged buglike robots. "Those are the Skeeters…" And finally, Cossack pointed up to a saucer on a long metallic rod, with a menacing pair of pincers on the bottom. "And that is what Mega faced me in. That one Wily called the Falling Hand."
Hazil gently stepped up to them, letting his hands run over their smooth metallic surfaces.
"These suckers are in GREAT condition…" Bright Man raised a hand.
"You may thank me for that." Cossack pointed with his walking stick to the Moth warbot.
"Melee Moth, The Cage, and The Skeeters all have energy conducting coils, wiring and systems for Weapons Grid enhancements. As to how you will upgrade Drill Man and Toad Man…well, just use whatever parts you need."
Hazil rubbed his hands together, grinning devilishly.
"Let's tear these suckers open." Pharaoh Man raised a hand, forming a ball of bright energy. Throwing the globe, he blasted a hole into the side of a Skeeter robot.
"Go right ahead, Hazil."
Hazil's giggling was huge. He was like a child on Christmas opening the giant present.
Cossack smiled. At long last, his creations would bring positive aid to the world.
"Hello…Cain?" In his office, early in the wee hours of the morning, Cain's desk phone bleeped, and an image flashed up on screen.
Cain jolted himself awake and turned on the image. Stunned, he found it was Hazil, in a lit place that looked like a gigantic hangar.
"Hazil? I thought you took the day off!" Hazil grinned from ear to ear, and raised a welding torch.
"Not quite. Let's just say I'm off, doing a favor for X. An old friend of his has provided me with a challenge." Cain blinked, then widened his eyes.
"Waittaminute…Are you talking about…"
"The good doctor of Mother Russia." Hazil finished. "Don't say anymore, I'm pretty sure the GDC has this line tapped." Cain grunted.
"Good point. So, why did you call then?" Hazil held up a pair of fingers in a V shape.
"First, I needed to remind you that you need to take some more aspirin. Also, this may take a bit longer than expected. Clear me for tomorrow, and if things get rough down there…" Hazil frowned. "Hell, I can feel it in my tiny finger, boss. Something's gonna happen, and it'll happen soon."
"What do you mean?" Hazil gritted his teeth.
"It feels like how I usually do when Sigma's about to make a reappearance." Cain's hand slapped to the desk, now completely flabbergasted.
"Hell's Bells! Are you telling me that…" Hazil clacked his teeth together.
"I'm saying my limited clairvoyance has never failed me. The fact Wycost was infected again also does something to my perspective." Cain sat back, trying to slow his lightning fast heart rate.
"Yeah. How is Wycost?" Hazil flashed a thumbs up.
"When I left, he was sleeping like a baby, having finally destroyed the Virus." Hazil's face went grim. "But something about what Doan mentioned to me seems to suggest he isn't gonna be the same."
"Wycost? How so?"
"Maybe he'll go off and commit suicide." Cain nearly choked on his spit.
"Be serious!"
"I am, Cain. Dead serious. Wycost's gone through hell and back at LEAST two times now. Maybe more. The simple fact is, only he knows all of his past. The rest of us only know parts to it." Just then, a loud clattering of metals thudding to the ground caused Hazil to tense up and wince.
Whirling his head about, he opened his mouth to tell at some offscreen people.
"Hey Bright, Dive! Stop dropping the Stuff, Will ya?! It still has to WORK when I use it."
"Sorry, Hazil!" Bright Man called back.
"We will pursue excellence in our task from now on." Came Dive Man's deep bass reply. Hazil scratched the back of his head.
"Hell, just keep the equipment from smashing itself to bits."
"Hazil, who are you talking to?" Hazil grinned.
"One of them is just helping out. The other is one of the dipswitches I've been asked to upgrade." Cain harrumphed.
"Well, take care of yourself. When do you expect to get back?" Hazil shrugged.
"Can you hold out until tomorrow?" Cain smiled.
"I think we can manage that. What about Bastion's Armor?" Hazil chortled.
"What, The Angel's Advantage? My computer's working on it…the main body contruction should be done when I get back. A few final twitches of fine tuning, and then we have Bastion give it a test fly." Cain nodded.
"Sounds good. I'll let you get back to work then." Hazil flashed a thumbs up.
"As always." Just then, another loud clang of metal on the hard floor behind him startled Hazil, causing him to groan and slap himself in the face.
"Will you two BE CAREFUL?!" Hazil screamed behind him.
"SORRY!" Came the reply. Hazil sighed.
"Moronic outdated robots…" The connection blinked out at long last, leaving Cain to fold his hands and grin at his screen.
"Hazil, those outdated robots may yet prove to be humanity's saving grace. Just do your best."
Doan walked out of the Hunter Base's Hangar Bay, quietly biding his time. Visiting Cleo had lifted his usual morose spirits somewhat, but he was still less than pleased.
Wycost still hadn't woken up yet. Of course, considering what the Bronx Bomber had gone through in the past few days, it was no wonder he wasn't up yet. Still…
"Cause for alarm." Doan said softly.
The hallways of the Hunter base, designed to take him in a giant loop until he entered a doorway seemed to span out forever in front of his eyes. And that suited his purposes.'
Doan wanted some time to clear his thoughts. And most people left him alone. About the same as they did Wycost…
"Correction." Doan mumbled to himself. "Like they USED to do with Wycost." Now that the majority of the Hunters were clued in that Wycost had gone maverick, at least recently (Thank goodness no one suspected he had been one before, Doan thought with grim irony) there would be a lot of angry faces to look at him.
Doubtful Wycost could carry out the same task in life he had before.
"Considering his recent mental combat, I don't think that's what he'd be up to doing anyhow."
A wandering reploid in the halls of HQ talking to himself drew few sidelong glances. Most were usually self absorbed.
When death was a daily possibility in the final line of defense, some measure of solitude was kept with all.
Still, Doan could see many things as he walked about. Quietly opening Cain's door, he could see their aged and beloved human leader quietly humming to himself, while playing with an outdated handheld video game device from the early 21st Century.
Shutting the door behind him and moving on, Doan plodded on, one Hunter among many.
Some were not as skillful as him…
The first big mission would end their lives.
But there were some like him, that had lived by skill, luck and sheer grit. Those were the ones that stood a chance of success.
Doan stopped in front of another door. This one led to the Medical Bay. And that's where he had left Wycost yesterday.
Doan decided he would check up on the twit again.
The door to the Medical Bay was locked, Doan found with a glare. But it responded to his voiceprint perfectly, opening itself up to him.
"Hazil must have realized I'm one of the few people that isn't going to end his life here." Doan muttered as he slipped inside. The door shut behind him with a hiss of hydraulics, and the lights inside turned on automatically.
Wycost still looked exhausted. Doan walked over and gently shook Wycost's shoulders.
"Hey, Wycost. WYCOST, you hearing me?" Doan bit his tongue and thought of another answer.
A slight grin crossed his face, ever so slight. Doan lightly tapped his feet, remembering an occasion long ago…back when he and Wycost were both still in New York, before the First Maverick Uprising had even begun in Japan.
That had been after Doan's first taste of combat. He had survived, even though his Buster's power rating was pitiful. More by luck than anything, Doan thought wryly.
After that incident, the grimfaced Wycost had sighed and pulled his helmet off, looking up into the gray murky clouds above. Then he'd turned to Doan with doused eyes and nodded, saying simply,
"Let's go get a drink, Doan."
Doan and Wycost had been in the Bar at a far corner of New York for some time now. Wycost had rubbed the stubble on his chin after the bloody fight, sighed and slammed Doan on the back.
"Come on Doan." Wycost had said. "Let's get you drunk."
That had been a while back, hours ago.
"Hey Wygost..." Doan slurred, hiccoughing before taking down another drink. Doan gazed into his drink, not sure what to make of the frothy concoction in front of him.
Wycost looked at him through blurry and unresponsive optics.
"Yeurrahh?"
"Why did you (HIC!) become a cop?" Wycost took a huge swig from his frosty tankard before slamming it back down onto the wooden bench. The bartender on duty winced, but said nothing. Wycost was a regular, and he paid tips well enough.
Wycost wiped the froth of the import German lager from his chin and smiled.
Wycost looked back at his newly-found (and very drunk) friend, trying to focus on the pinkish blur in front of him.
"Weaayll Doan, I thought I might try to do something worthwhile with my time..." Wycost slammed his fist on the counter. "Bartender! Gimme another rouund..." Wycost's speech was becoming less concise with each swig.
Doan jumped, his system not used to the rather strong liquor. The slightly balding human sighed, then picked up Wycost's glass and reached over to fill it back up.
Wycost continued on, almost oblivious to the fresh drink placed beside him as his arms waved about. He nearly knocked it over, but avoided calamity.
Doan looked back at the greenish blur, and tried to focus. No luck.
"Whuh?"
"Heeere I was, thinking to myself, ya know? What other profession can you have, in whi whi whiiich...*Hic* ya get to lug around a Buster and play police man?"
If Doan had known (and heard) the comment from the human next to him, he would have laughed. "Drunk as a friggin; skunk..." Instead, he just looked at Wycost with a sloppy grin.
"Ahh... I see..." Doan flailed a hand around in the air, mimicking Wycost's more controlled movements. "Well, I have a buster, an' I shoot stuff... (HIC!) An... an... uhh..."
Doan's scattered positronic brain struggled to keep his train of thought. "And.. I saved your butt! So there!" With that, he brought his fist down on the bar. The bartender looked at the silver reploid, sighed, and put down another drink.
Doan looked at the new glass, not quite sure why it was there, but drank it anyway.
Doan sputtered it out quickly as soon as one swig was in his mouth.
"Wha the hee*ic* is in this?" Wycost slammed his tankard back to the counter from another huge gulp and lazily grinned through one eye.
"Weeyll...Doan, that's the house specialty. I helped make it, too."
"That's great and all, but just what's...what was I saying?" Doan stuttered incoherently.
Wycost guffawed, then shook his head.
"I call it the Irish Banshee...because once ya drink it, you'll swear the angel of death's howling at yer....*Hic* back..."
Doan pushed the mug away, finally giving into reason.
"Thanks for telling me." Wycost raised a hand, then dropped it back down again.
"Aah...good liquor always puts me in the mood for a SEA SHANTIE..." Doan frowned.
"Sea Shantie?" Wycost nodded, stumbling to his feet.
"Come on! Just join in when you get the feel for it." Wycost raised his voice so everyone in the bar could hear him.
"Hey, EVERYONE! Ma...ma...me and my Friend..." Wycost blinked and looked over to the grayish blur beside him...
"Eeh, what's yer name again?" The drunk gray reploid beside him hiccoughed and blinked oddly.
"It might be Doan..." Smacking himself in the face, Doan restored some order to his brain. "Ehh... Yeah, it's Doan... I think..."
"MY FRIEND DOAN..." Wycost bellowed loudly..."Me and my friend Doan here are gonna sing you all a little Sea Shantie...In the ways of my Irish forefathers, and how they did it, and how their ancestors did it before them, all the way back to when the first Irish monkey scratched himself..." Doan shook his head, grinning...
"I don't like this..."
But at long last, silence overcame the bar, and all eyes turned to the pair of REALLY drunk reploids.
Wycost took in a deep breath, coughing a bit before gaining enough muster to start up. Wycost's feet stamped back and forth, providing a stumbling rythmn. A sound started in the base of his throat, then raised to a low growl. A few patrons in the bar began to tap their feet along with the rather bad rythym.
"Oooh...Where do ya go when you're pissed outta your gourd?"
Doan stepped in, finally realizing what Wycost was getting it.
"Where do ya go when you're rusting your sword?" Wycost stepped in, replacing Doan's unsteady voice.
"You go where the women and wine are the same, you go where all the other schmucks know yer name..."
"THE BAR! THE BAR! It ain't too damn far! Just sober on up and get in the car!" Doan's conclusion seemed out of place to the shantie, but Wycost was on a roll, and he was stopping for nothing.
"What's better to go is a land far away, where the drinks are free and the night is the day..." By now, many more of the patrons had joined in, clapping and tapping their feet.
"THE BAR! THE BAR! It's really not far! Just grab yer damn keys and don't crash your car!"
"So drink up me hearties, and sail on the sea, for when you get back your cup won't be filled with tea..."
"...And when you are there, far from your home, just think of the women, and don't go it alone!"
With that, the entire bar erupted into raucous laughter and applause. But Wycost took one final swig of his drink, and pounded his chest. There was one final verse to be sung.
"Be with yer pallies, yer chums and yer mates! Keep it in mind that danger never abates! A keen eye and keen mind will take you so far, for the rest of the way, look to a star!" The bar's applause grew louder, and even Doan nodded in acknowledgement. For all the gruffishness in Wycost's demeanor, he held abilities one would not expect.
Wycost was truly a diamond in the rough.
Doan remembered that Sea Shantie well. He also remembered the less than happy expressions on his family's faces when Wycost dragged him back, piss drunk and mumbling insanely. It was one of those moments Doan knew Wycost would have remembered. Perhaps a little help would pull him out of his sleep.
"The Bar, the Bar, it ain't very far…" Doan whistled softly, tapping on Wycost's hand the rythmn they had used that night.
As if by magic, Wycost's eyes slid open, and his mouth finished the tune.
"Just sober up and don't crash your car…"
A corner of Doan's mouth twinged into a smile, and his eyes seemed to sparkle into life at that moment.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Wycost." Wycost didn't respond right away…
His own eyes still looked dead. Wycost pulled himself to his feet, slowly, as if pushing his body through thick water.
"You all may be living, Doan. I feel dead inside." Wycost said calmly. Doan sighed.
"The fire's gone out of your eyes, I could see that when you completed the Virus self deletion. Just what happened in that mind of yours to cause that?"
Wycost looked at Doan, his eyes dim and sad.
"I don't think you want to know, Doan." Doan clicked his teeth together, folding his arms.
"If I wanted to, I could knock you out and just find out by using Revenant." Wycost nodded, the fire not restoring themselves.
"You're either trying to restore my fighting spirit, or you're being serious. Either way Doan, you failed." Wycost kicked himself off the Medical Bed, shaking his head ahead. "Doan, you're one of the few friends I have now that isn't dead. I went through HELL in my head to get rid of the Virus…I'm tired of fighting." Wycost looked away. "I'm tired of only causing death."
Doan shrugged, sitting across from his friend.
"It's a choice none of us like to make…Maybe Zero's the exception. We're Hunters for a reason, Wycost. We want to keep the world safe."
Wycost rolled his tongue around in his mouth. He checked his Buster, then satisfied it was still working, he walked over to Hazil's computer.
"Computer." Wycost said calmly. It chirped in response. "Bring up design schematics for Wycost's Helmet, designation Green Three Salem." The computer acknowledged, the screen flashing yellow for a brief moment before finally activating a 3-D model of Wycost's helmet.
Wycost frowned.
"It needs more…Much more." Doan frowned.
What, your helmet?" Wycost nodded.
"I may be sick of dealing death…but there's one final foe to face before I leave." That sentence sent chills down Doan's back, for he knew who the green Hunter was referring to.
"You mean…"
"Yes." Wycost said. He then blinked and looked up at Doan in surprise. "You know?" Doan shrugged.
"Let's just say I've seen your messed up mind once already. Another trip isn't my priority." Wycost grunted, turning back around.
"Did you see yourself?" Doan shook his head.
"I saw a lot of things…it always comes like a flood. But yes, I did see me." Wycost held his stoic pose as he examined the schematic.
"Times have changed, haven't they Doan?" Wycost finally said quietly. Doan nodded, grunting in response. "Who would have ever thought a pair of New York bums like us would be called on to be the world's saviors?" Doan snorted.
"I never wanted to be a hero." Wycost clicked the mouse and shrugged.
"You're an unsung hero, then. Like me…almost everyone knows about Mega Man X, and Zero Omega. Few look beyond them."
"That's a shame."
"Yeah…it also keeps people from bothering us. Serves my purposes well enough." Doan walked over beside Wycost and put a steady hand on the side of Wycost's chair.
"So what are you doing with your Helmet schematics?" Wycost shrugged.
"Adding on. The last time I faced him, I was outgunned. This time…it'll be different." Wycost shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
The fire was gone. The untamed fire from his spirit.
But now there was electricity that crackled in his veins. Electricity of purpose.
"Computer, add in Infared and X-Ray Scanners into the optic Control Chip goggle system."
"Acknowledged. Any further requests?" Wycost thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Is it possible to give the Helmet a long range communication and Frequency Interdictor system?" The computer whirred for a moment, then chirped out its response.
"Affirmative. Shall I include that as well?"
"Yes. Now, remodulate the Helmet and execute synthesizing protocols."
"Acknowledged. Please note that the Interdictor function of the Helmet is based on personal memorandum of Wycost, and cannot be confirmed for effectiveness."
In a flash of teleportation, Wycost's green headpiece vanished from his skull, letting the black raven hair fall down and glare in the overhead lights.
Wycost never turned around to face Doan, patiently waiting for the computer to finish.
A minute later, the hatch to the synthesizer machine in the Bay blinked, and slid open.
Inside was Wycost's new helmet.
Doan noted it didn't look too different from before. About the only cosmetic variance was on the left side where the vent would have been. Now it was covered by a black square, with rounded edges and a small opening at the top right.
Wycost plucked the headgear from where it had been made, then slipped it back on his head.
"A snug fit." Wycost said quietly. Turning about, he looked at Doan with dead eyes.
There was absolutely no emotion in them. It scared Doan for a moment to see Wycost like that, but thankfully the Hunter activated his goggles and brought the black control chip covers down over his eyes.
Inside the helmet, Wycost ran through a complete check of his new equipment.
"Infared…check. X-Ray…Doan, you might want to have Hazil check on your left arm main servomotor there…" Doan blinked in stunned disbelief, looking at his arm. Wycost rambled on, continuing to check his systems.
"Interdictor Frequency 3 function…" Wycost's helmet suddenly sprouted a small but powerful antenna from the black box on his helmet's side. Wycost grunted in satisfaction. "Check."
Doan folded his arms, unsure.
"Interdictor Frequency Gear? I don't recall that in any of our experimental stuff!" Wycost shrugged.
"The computer said it picked it up from my personal data. Some of it is from URFAWP, some of it is from back during the Fifth Uprising." Doan's eyes clouded over.
"When you were maverick."
"One of the times I was, yes." Wycost said resignedly. He flipped the goggles back up into his helmet.
"There's one fight left for me to take part in, Doan. A good friend of mine was killed because of him…this time, he pays the piper." Doan blinked.
"It sounds like the fire's returned."
"Negative." Wycost said, shutting his Buster off. "The fire died out a day ago. All I'm running on now is the smoke."
It was an explosion and the Hunter's klaxon alarm that brought the two back to their senses. Even as the ground shook underneath them, Doan found the time to frown.
"What was that?" Wycost's headgear activated again as he hacked into the HQ's alarm system.
It only took a fraction of a second to find the answer.
"Detention Block, Doan. It seems the mystery reploids Allegro and Andante that Zero and Bastion hauled in have escaped…" Wycost frowned.
"Gavin, Jad and Kol were with them. Are they new?" Doan nodded.
"Bastion calls them the trio. They showed up just after you left." Wycost sighed.
"If they're still alive, they're damn lucky, or those two reploids aren't interested in them."
Doan's mind suddenly filled with a frightening possibility.
"Enujii…" Doan muttered softly. "You're right, Wycost. They're not planning to bust out of the HQ just yet…"
"Lemme guess. They have a victim in mind."
"We gotta find Horn, NOW."