Chapter 1: The Calm Before The Storm

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose amidst the ancient ruins of a once great city called Doppler Town. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning. North the wind blew through the skeletal remains of past glory, the crumbling stone of forgotten buildings destroyed in the Third Maverick War. This city had once been beautiful, before greed and hatred had decimated its populace, like the corrupt seed of some dark plant, fostered from years of mistrust; the humans having been wary of Reploids ever since the First War. The cold wind howled through the desolate ruins like a mournful ghost in search of rest. Age and decay blanketed the city like a shroud, its weathered spires thrust upwards at the darkening sky in defiance. The strong wind gusted through the very heart of the broken city, its icy fingers caressing the shattered remains of a lonely statue--that of the city's founder--which sat at the center of this forsaken place, his stern features long since obliterated. The crumbling stone figure sat there, as if to remind those who crossed its path that nothing lasts in this world. The great wind blew onward towards the sea, over vast oceans of sapphire blue. It pressed forth-- battling crosswinds from the south--shearing and swirling as the waters below heaved. Eastward the wind surged, over fragrant grasslands and shadowy forests, carrying the tang of salt. The mighty wind roared against desolate cliffs, sweeping through vast cities like some angry god, raging at his creations. The wind battered ceaselessly against the imposing fortress that was Maverick Hunter Headquarters, against thick glass windows designed to withstand the wind's harsh breath. The great wind rushed relentlessly onward, as if it too sought to escape the storm that was to come.

All was well at Maverick Hunter Headquarters. It was quiet outside, except for a few routine patrols and the raging wind. For the past six months there had been very little Maverick activity, so most of the Hunters were off duty. Inside the base, only a few dozen Hunters were awake--most of them of lower rank-- and they talked in low voices among themselves, standing in scattered groups, or sat clustered around the low tables that filled the room that was the central dining hall.  Some of them were clustered around a Sony PlayStation, playing Worms: Armageddon, which was known to be one of X and Zero's favorite games; the subdued sounds of combat mixing with the dim rumble of conversation--both Human and Reploid--in a fashion that Crimson found quite relaxing. The teams were X's team, composed of X, Zero, Auroran Flash, and Crimson; Sigma's team, composed of Sigma, Vile, Doppler, and Double; a Maverick team, composed of Flame Stag, Bubble Crab, Crystal Snail, and Magna Centipede; and a team of Robot Masters, composed of Crystal Man, Magnet Man, Shadow Man, and Pharaoh Man. There were several other teams to choose from besides these, including teams that were little more than myths. Although it was against regulations, many Hunters could actually be found betting on the outcome of such matches, especially if X and Zero were playing. Crimson thought it was a waste of credit, but hey...to each his own. He usually just sat and watched the show, as he did now. X's team was winning, as usual. Crimson watched as the worm that was named after himself was blown into oblivion by a Magic Bullet, courtesy of Flame Stag. He snorted to indicate what he thought of that. The current match being played was not too unlike the current status of the war; Sigma's team was almost gone--at the moment, only Sigma himself remained-- and the Mavericks were on the run. The Robot Masters were already dead, their last member knocked into the water--or what passed for water; what with the cartoonish graphics and all--even as he watched. It seemed that Sigma had been defeated for good this time. Oh, there were occasional skirmishes with Maverick units, but nothing serious. They were a minor nuisance, nothing more. Crimson sighed. He was one of the elite Hunters, commissioned shortly before the Fourth War. He had fought against the armies of the former Repliforce, under the command of Magma Dragoon; curse his traitorous hide. Crimson had been there during the Fall of Sky Lagoon; where the former Hunter's betrayal had almost cost him his life. After the Fall, he continued the fight against the Mavericks. His only regret was that he hadn't been the one to kill his former comrade; that particular honor having been reserved for Zero. Now it seemed that the war was almost over, that peace was finally being achieved. Crimson knew better. As long as there were Mavericks, there would be war. It was that simple. He sighed again, turning his attention to the darkening skies outside. Lightning flickered among the low, dark clouds amassing on the horizon. Thunder rumbled in the distance, like a call to battle. The past few months had been peaceful, but troubled times were ahead. Crimson could feel it. As he stared out the rain-streaked window, he could not escape the feeling that something terrible was coming. This may be the last peace that any of them would know for a long time to come. The calm before the storm. he thought to himself. He took a sip of his beverage, and tried to refocus his thoughts. Lately, Zero had been acting strangely, complaining about weird dreams. No wonder he hadn't been sleeping well. Probably battle fatigue. He took Iris's death pretty hard.  That was an understatement, as Zero hadn't been the same since. Rumor had it that he would become a Maverick.... Crimson snorted again, this time in anger. He was not one to waste his time with idle speculation. Whatever happened would happen; worrying about the inevitable served no purpose. Muttering to himself, Crimson turned his attention back to the game. Round 1 was over, and round 2 was about to begin. But that uneasy feeling stayed with him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sky ventured cautiously through the darkened corridors of the Maverick Base. He knew where he was going, and had a pretty good idea of what to do when he got there. Although he didn't foresee any major problems—those would come after he had downloaded the virus--he nevertheless felt anxious. The fate of the Resistance, not to mention the entire human race, depended on what they did here. Or failed to do. Sky pushed such thoughts from his mind, and concentrated on the task at hand, which would be difficult enough as it was. No use burdening oneself with petty distractions. Getting access to the Central Computer would not be easy, as it was heavily guarded by high-level Mavericks when it was possible, and by a high-level energy forcefield when it was not. Mavericks by day, Security field by night. Great. Just great. he thought sarcastically to himself. Sky had the means to bypass the forcefield; it was the Mavericks he was worried about. If Aero was right--and Sky had little reason to doubt that he was--the Mavericks would be keeping close watch on all of them. Little chance he would be able to escape unnoticed, especially at this late hour. Mavericks generally didn't spend their time roaming down corridors in the dead of night, and they certainly didn't spend time fiddling with the main computer. Sky's rank wasn't high enough to allow him to venture anywhere near it, let alone access it. He would be in considerable danger once he reached the Core that housed it, and it was unlikely that he would remain undetected for that long; chances were he'd be detected as soon as he breached the forcefield. Sky possessed high speed and strength--he could hardly be considered weak--but he would be no match for the guards if they decided to get nasty. In addition to the security field, two high-level Mavericks guarded the Core at all times. Sky would be hard-pressed to handle one of those fiends, let alone two. If it came down to that once he reached the Central Computer, he wouldn't be able to wait for Aero's signal; he'd have to download the virus and make a run for it before they knew what was going on. If it came down to that before he reached it.... well, Sky found it best not to think about it. The team knew all too well what the Master did to prisoners. If those high-level Mavericks don't vaporize me first! he thought ruefully. Sky would be quite happy once this was finally over.

He kept moving, peering carefully around every corner lest he be ambushed. A short time later, he saw a junction up ahead. An important junction, as it would lead him to the outer perimeter of the Core. Here, he proceeded at a somewhat

slower pace, ready to draw his Saber at a moment's notice. He paused. Might as well try to contact the team one last time to make sure everyone was in position, as this would be his last opportunity before reaching the security field. He would be on his own from here on out. Sky could see light ahead, which meant that he was almost there. The forcefield should be around the next corner.... Sky forged ahead, his silent companion in close pursuit behind.

In his haste, it never occurred to Sky that he might be being followed.....

* * * * * * * * * *

The Master stood looking out the window, deep in thought. He had been waiting, somewhat impatiently, for some time now. The Master did not like to be kept waiting, and he was well known for his volatile temper. People tended to step carefully around the Master, as he was a man quick to anger, and his rage often had brutal consequences for the one on whom it was inflicted. Few people--Reploid and human alike--defied the Master once. No one did it twice. He gazed calmly outward at the rain-swept landscape, hands clasped behind his back. He paid no heed to the figure kneeling behind him, but instead focused on the swirling patterns created by the rain as it drummed ceaselessly against the window. His eyes, which were an unnaturally bright shade of blue--as was the Beam Saber he wore at his side--gleamed fiercely, reflecting off the window to create eerie shadows in the surrounding darkness, further emphasized by the occasional lightning flashes and peals of thunder. This particular storm was remarkable fierce; anyone foolish enough to have been caught out in the open would not survive for long. But a different storm was on the horizon, one that was far more vicious....

At last he turned away, silently regarding his minion. Rising from where he knelt beside the doorway, Dark Bass did not flinch, as another might have under that gaze. Few could meet it directly; the Master's eyes seemed capable of reading one's inner thoughts, revealing all but the most closely guarded secret. There was precious little that escaped those eyes, and the little that did usually did not remain hidden for long.... The Master frowned slightly. "This is accurate? You weren't seen?" "Of course not, my Lord." Dark Bass replied smoothly. The Master's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew. "Once," he amended hastily. "And briefly at that. I assure you, my Lord, he suspects nothing."

The Master said nothing. Turning back to the window, he smiled coldly at the rain-streaked glass. "So....at last they've come..." he murmured. "As I knew they would." He laughed quietly to himself. It was time to begin putting his plans into effect. "You have done well, Dark Bass." Still smiling, he walked over to a large view screen, activating it with a wave of his hand. The screen lit up, and after a few moments a series of portraits began to appear. Aero. Sky. All four of them were there. "You may go." the Master said, still studying the screen. Dark Bass stood there in disbelief. All of the traitors were there, even though Dark Bass had only told him about Aero. How does he know about the others? he thought. One look at the Master's face--impassive though it was--told him the answer. He's known all along..... But how? "Is there a problem?" the Master asked, fixing Bass with a cold stare. "No, my Lord." Dark Bass stammered. He bowed hurriedly, then headed for the door. "Oh, and Bass...." "Yes, my Lord?" Bass turned. The Master had not moved from the view screen. "Bring Aero to me....alive and unharmed. I wish to speak with him." The Master's gaze never left Bass's face. "As you command, my Lord." Bass said, and shivered in spite of himself. He departed then, all too glad to be gone. As a result, he did not see the strange symbol that appeared on the Master's forehead.....

* * * * * * * * * *

The Master watched Dark Bass leave, the symbol on his forehead shining bright blue in the darkness. If he was aware of it, he showed no sign. Slowly, the symbol faded away. The Master turned his attention back to the view screen. What fools these Hunters were! He'd know about them from the beginning, had known that it was only a matter of time before the Hunters began sending spies. Well, they weren't the only ones....

He smiled. Soon, Dark Bass would bring Aero to him, and he'd find out everything he needed to know. He continued to study the information before him, bringing up everyone's profile in turn. No doubt false information devised by the Hunters, but he studied it nonetheless. After he'd read the last profile, he deactivated the view screen and returned to his place by the window. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, I will rule this world.... he thought to himself. He realized he was laughing, and made no effort to stop. They didn't know it yet, but sending Aero had been a mistake. A fatal mistake. For by doing so, they had not only sealed Aero's fate, but their own as well. The Master laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face, but he was not aware of them.