MEGA MAN X: ISLAND OF AWAKENING
By Erico
CHAPTER ONE: RAY OF HOPE
"Cain's audio diary. December 17th, 2118. Approximately one year and a half ago, I came across the buried capsule that contained X." The gray haired James Cain, famed archaeologist and creator of the reploid race sat back in his office chair and stared up at the ceiling with its blinking lights. He closed his eyes for a moment and paused to shake his head. "All that has occurred since then is a blur. It has all been recorded, all been seen. Within little more than a blink of a human life, the events taken by me have forever changed the world."
Cain hit the pause button on his handheld recorder and drew in a breath, holding it in as it charged in at him. Finally having regained enough composure after his panic attack, he resumed taping. "The reploid race is here, and it is here to stay despite what many critics say. Reploids hold sentience…and to say that they are anything less than equal to human standards is not only biased and discrimination...it is the same blatant hatred held against past outcasts such as Gypsies, Jews, Native Americans, Africans, Chinese and Koreans." Those words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and Cain snorted. "I am always surprised to find that after all the sacrifices made by Mega Man in the Robot Wars, and now those made by the Hunters, there are still some who are filled with blinding contempt for others. I would have hoped racial hatred would be a thing of the past by now."
"Of course, I must also admit I had hoped the Maverick threat would be ended with the toll of Sigma's demise. Sadly, his followers carry on in his footsteps." Cain picked himself up and paused the recording again, clutching at a wooden walking stick by his desk and limping along with it, walking out his front door and tucking the little black plastic and metal machine in a side pocket of his blue overcoat with red fringes. Despite what many joked about it, it was not a kimono, nor a bathrobe. It was just close enough to merit such chortling.
James Cain walked down the hallways that spanned out before him, looping about in a circle. Circles within circles, and five levels totally. This was where he resided, where his place in the circle of world events lied.
This massive structure, glimmering with power in the night and standing as a dark behemoth in the daytime of the relocated Tokyo, was Maverick Hunter Headquarters. Founded early in 2118, it was not even a full year old…
But it was old enough. Within the architecturally sound walkways and interiors of this Tokyo structure lay the very heart of the defense against the reploids gone berserk against humanity…against reploids entitled 'Mavericks' by everyone across the globe.
Cain had often wondered what caused reploids to go Maverick. Was it a glitch in their systems? An override command for self-preservation? Or just a sheer gnawing hatred within them against the humans who scorned them, looked down on them as little more than advanced puppets at their whim with marionette strings?
Sigma was the most puzzling of cases with Maverickism. After all, Cain had built him with what at the time was the most advanced neurorobotic techniques and equipment. He was supposed to be impossible of going Maverick, and being coddled by Cain, X and Cancer, Sigma should have had no reason to scorn humanity. The worst case scenario Cain had assumed back when he was activated was that Sigma would begrudgingly admit that there were good humans and bad humans. Just like there was good and bad in all things.
Cain shook his head for a moment to clear his mind away from thoughts of Sigma. He was gone and dead, not even buried, but annihilated in the brilliant explosion over the Sea of Japan that had blown his flying fortress and everything within to kingdom come. X had seen to that.
"X…" Cain said softly, letting the combination single syllable and name roll from his lips and float down to his long gray whiskered beard. His walking stick in hand, he weaved slowly about the other Hunters walking about. A lot had happened since the First Uprising.
Like X, for example. The most enigmatic of all human-like robots, and the prototype and surrogate father of the reploid race, there was something within him and him alone that no other reploid could compare to. And Cain admitted it freely. Reploids were just copies of him. X was the one…the original. And within his timid body lay a great power…a power that he shared with his older brother before him.
When Sigma and his top Hunters went Maverick and blew their way out of the MHHQ on June 4th, 2118, they had done one thing that they shouldn't have.
They killed Cancer. Cancer was a yellowish reploid who inhabited the HQ along with X and Cain, not as a Hunter, but a mere presence of a greater whole. Cancer had been the first reploid ever created, and he and X had always seemed so much alike.
It was Cancer's death that caused something within X to snap. As if a deep ethereal power had spoken through him, X had changed in that moment.
His pure pacifism faded away, filled instead with a burning rage for Sigma, and a desire to stop him from ever harming another.
It was the same kind of role that the original Mega Man had filled when Wily went insane, reprogrammed Light's six prototype super-robots, and tried to take over the world. When someone crazy and powerful beyond all rational means prepared a pitch to strike out freedom and life…
A Mega Man stepped forth to swing and blunt the blow. With Wily, the original. With Sigma, X.
Something deep within Cain nagged at him, and he deeply hoped that there would be no more after X. Somehow, the threat of another crazy violent lunatic on the loose with a blue robot going to stop him didn't exactly ease his already wrenched stomach.
Cain blinked again and stopped in midstep. As if led by the nose, his walk had taken him to a very important place of the HQ. The Medical Bay. Cain shrugged and stepped in. He could shoot down two birds with one stone by walking in here.
"If you're here for a Dash Thruster upgrade, GET OUT. I don't have any more PARTS, DAMNIT!" A gruff voice from within greeted Cain loudly as the hydraulic doors hissed open. James Cain smiled and let his dark and aged eyes twinkle.
"Hazil, they should have had you on hand when they filmed Grumpy Old Men."
A reploid inside paused and tensed up his shoulders, then relaxed and let out a small chuckle.
"Yeah. I would have been a damned sight better than that stuck up prick Walter Matthau." The reploid turned around and gave Cain a weary smile, then waved his hand. "Sorry you caught me at a bad time, Cain. It's just all these rookie Hunters we've been draggin in…every one of them wants Thrusters, and then they turn around and play Superman and burn 'em out…AND WANT 'EM REPLACED. Honest to God, I think we should start running a class on proper Thruster Maintenance before we EVER stick a pair of miniaturized rechargeable rockets on their damn feet."
Cain tapped his walking stick against a medical cot and hopped up onto it, using his good leg to provide the thrust. He addressed Hazil with a knowing gaze of admitted embarassment.
"Yeah, yeah…I know, Hazil. But we do need them. We lost more than 98% of our forces in the First Uprising." Hazil rolled his eyes and stepped out from behind the long bench that served as his desk.
A more appropriate term would be rolled. Hazil was different from other humanoid class reploids in that he had no legs, but rather a wheel base much like tank treads. Anyone who had seen Short Circuit with Steve Guttenberg would make the immediate connection. With his stocky body and oversized chest compartment, any classic cartoon lover would identify another part of his design as Mac from The Jetsons. An amalgamation of old-world views on robots combined with new reploid technologies, the Medical Officer who had arrived back when the Hunters were first instated served the cause with a power few could understand or hope to live up to.
Hazil calmly rolled over to Cain and addressed him with a calm and level gaze.
"So what's your business here, Cain? I don't have you in for a checkup until January third…so you have enough time to get past the New Year's Hangover." Cain shrugged and tapped the bottom of his stick against the ground.
"I'm not really too sure…I just kind of found my way here." Hazil rolled his eyes.
"Getting wistful about the Holiday season? Want a sedative so you can get through the first Christmas with the Hunters?"
"No…I'm just wandering." Cain said finally. He pointed his gaze heavenward, then dropped it back down and pulled his walking stick up higher. "I just still find it hard to believe that so much could change over such a small amount of time." Hazil snorted.
"Yeah. A year ago, reploids were still new on the block. Point being?" Cain shrugged.
"I'm worried about X, Hazil." Hazil blinked, then let his eyes widen knowingly.
"You're talking about the condition of his fragile psyche, aren't you?" Cain nodded.
"X didn't come out of his room for a month after he arrived at base…on June 20th. Whatever happened to him when he fought Sigma scarred him, Hazil. Scarred him in a way I can't identify with, and can't console him about. Not even you could stop him from going catatonic."
"So he's a little mopey." Hazil said plaintively. "He's damn good at what he does, and that's all that matters." Cain let his lips part in a grimace of unease.
"I'm not so sure, Hazil…" Cain tapped his stick on the floor. "Do you remember why the first reploids went Maverick?"
"Because they got fed up with getting the shaft all the time."
"Exactly. The racial hatred humans placed on them caused their minds to grow to hate humans, and eventually to lash out at them in a deranged state of mind. And something with X…something about him chills me."
"Are you saying X is going to go Maverick?" Hazil asked as he raised an accusing eyebrow. Cain shook his head vigorously.
"No…God no. He sacrificed too much of himself and saw too many others pay the full price to stop them. He won't join the opposing cause. But what I am saying is that the X that we first knew from the time I pulled him out of the ground in April of last year is dying…and being replaced by something different. Something cold…something that does not care for life at all…" Cain hopped down from the medical bench and sighed. "I may be old, but I'm not senile yet. Keep an eye on him." Hazil gave a short nod of his head, then turned back to his computer to let Cain walk out of the room.
As Cain entered the hallways again, he dropped his hand down to his recording unit and plucked it out, resuming his recording.
"As I was saying, the few surviving Mavericks still exist. Although without Sigma's guidance, their threat has been more of a nuisance than anything. They have resorted to a form of guerilla warfare, striking out at unsuspecting targets, then melting back into the shadows. The Hunters, most of them greenhorns and fresh from the assembly lines are trying their best to squash out the final pockets of resistance…but it is tough going when you don't know where your enemy is located, and where they will strike next."
"However, a Hunting expedition that returned yesterday managed to pick up a Maverick communicator. It is being scanned by our chief technicians as we speak for any signs of hidden danger such as a suicide switch or death bomb, and we should know by the 19th of this month if it is safe to use. If such is the case, it would be a simple matter to piggyback a trace over the comm signal and locate what many of us in the Hunters hope is the only Maverick base left in existence."
"X is now the full time Commander of the Hunters, although I always get the impression from his less than overjoyed mood it is a task he does not particularly enjoy. There is still a large part of him that would like nothing better than to crawl under a rock and simply forget that there's a war going on. He was a pacifist when I met him, and even now as he is the foremost Hunter, his tactics always hold a certain element of restraint. He is nothing like Zero was…But I should not expect him to be like Zero."
"The Crimson Hunter, as many now affectionately call him, was an overeager and particularly violent warrior within our ranks. He arrived as one of the few survivors from the tragedy with Garma's Unit in the Southwest United States, a civilian reploid who somehow undertook his role as a Hunter with great joy. Whether within his wiped mind, he still held a burning hatred for the Mavericks that tore his town apart, or he was programmed with such fight-friendly attitudes, Zero had a burning fire within him that was cool under fire, but also incredibly…chaotic." Cain had to pause to find the right word, and he slowed down his pace, recalling Zero. "Unlike no other Hunter I have seen since, Zero had a spark within him that granted him incredible abilities in battle. Not a physical attribute like strength, but rather just a frenetic blitzkrieging mode he seemed to shift into whenever there was a fight."
"That was what made Zero so good of a Hunter…but it was X in the end who defeated Sigma. Zero proved himself to be noble as well, pushing himself into the ultimate sacrifice to save X's life. Now, only the memory of Zero is alive…for his body is like Sigma's and the fortress it laid in. Exploded atoms and dust particles, swirling over the Sea of Japan. Wherever he resides now, in whatever form, I wish him great thanks and a debt of a case of Heineken…" Cain's face wrinkled up as he remembered the fatal Poker game that had caused him to write the IOU for Zero's liquor. And Cain felt the need to quote right then, so he dug deep in his mind and used a quote from the Star Wars character, Obi-Wan.
"He was the best Starpilot in the galaxy…and he was a good friend." Cain finally stopped recording his message and tucked it in his pocket.
Enough reminiscence for today, he decided. It was time to push forth and put a stop to the Mavericks once and for all.
Then Zero could be proud.
If one was to take a look at the interior workings of the MHHQ, the bustling midsized circular building that lay just outside the edge of Tokyo and right beside its highway, they would find themselves looking into the faces of all the Hunters within.
While it was true that some opted to maintain their time on the few fringe Hunter outposts the GDC had granted them, the majority of the world saving warriors lived and worked here.
And each of them had a different face, a different view, a different walk that distinguished them from all the others. Some of the Hunters were animalian in appearance, some looked almost entirely robotic. Some did not have legs at all like the Medical Doctor Hazil, and some did not have normal arms, instead being given permanently altered things that aided them in battle.
There were the others in the Hunter Headquarters aside from the warriors, such as the mechanics, the signal operators, and the public relations specialists, not to mention research and development teams and the field medics.
It took all of them to keep the Hunters operational, and each of them knew the important role they played. Most of them were reploids, trying desperately to prove their worth and to make up for the horrible mistakes of their brothers and sisters wreaking havoc about the world.
And their eyes…their eyes spoke of the power within. The cool heads, the psychoid ravagers, and those in between. Each set of eyes had a different story, a different tilt in their eyebrows that seemed to say, 'This is who I am…'
But there was one set of eyes in that mass of bodies that spoke more than any other. That set of eyes was a bluish green in color, not a true shade of either, but a blend of the two. Those eyes had seen death and despair like no other within its gaze, and it had been witness to the most powerful and destructive of emotions known.
Those blue/green eyes belonged to a reploid that wore armor in many shades of blue, topped with a strangely familiar blue helmet and a red control chip cover embedded in the center of the piece.
Those eyes belonged to a person who wished more than anything he did not have to be here.
Those eyes belonged to the greatest Maverick Hunter.
Those eyes…belonged to Mega Man X.
His walk was without bounce, without meter. Not plodding, but not silent in step, Mega Man X merely clomped along, not particularly caring what others thought of him.
"All these fresh faces…" X muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "And how many of them shall die in the next battle? How many will live to see three months of service?" X felt his left hand clench up into a fist, a fist that spoke of the embittered rage that still burned within him, rage against the Mavericks that caused nothing but destruction and suffering in their wake. A quiet alarm sounded in his head and X was given a command in the corner of his eye, projected there by his optic nerve's feedback loop.
"Do you wish to arm the X-Buster?" It asked silently, flashing the query in a blink of computer code that was transmitted in less than the blink of a human eye. X shook his head at the question and transmitted a small mental syllable back to his systems. NO. The question vanished and X let his hand unclench.
And he kept walking down the hallways. X rubbed his left wrist with his right hand and let his mouth tighten up.
"I haven't used my X-Buster since I destroyed Sigma." X said softly to himself. And in honesty, that was truth. For almost six months now, since June 19th of 2118, he had not. It had remained in his circuits, a permanent part of his original design that could not be altered. Light may have wished X to live in peace, but he had made sure that even if X got rid of his armor, he would still have the X-Buster. The venerable Mark 17 with a Level Three Charge, its design was so similar to all others like it. The Mark 18 his Armor Set had held from the First Uprising had not yet been duplicated, thank goodness. That thing did more than pack a punch.
It could slam a hole through a mountain if the safeties were ignored.
Why X had not taken use of his Buster existed in reasons known to nobody else but himself. X was a pacifist by default, a learned part of his gentile nature. Any death that was unnecessary upset him greatly, and even necessary death, death to save the lives of others affected him. The Buster was a weapon of death, and death was something X had tried to forget about since Zero died.
Zero…the only true friend X had during the First Uprising. Cain was a father figure more than anything…but that blasted Crimson Hunter had truly clicked with X.
It had been interesting to see X handle missions without using his Buster, and a few times he had gotten beat up pretty badly. So badly in fact, that Hazil had insisted upon installing a basic Dash Thruster system into his boots, one that allowed X the same blazing bursts of speed his First Armor set had granted him. After that, it had been easier for X.
Easier to survive. Not easier to stop the guilt and the bitter pain within him. Zero was gone, and it was his fault. And Zero wasn't coming back, couldn't stand up and tell X everything was all right. And because of that, X could never forgive himself.
His eyes began to sting just then, threatening to unleash watery lubricant over his optics to allow X to cry. But X ignored it, pushed the command back and walked on.
He hadn't cried since the night of June 19th, when the Flying Fortress exploded. He'd just gritted his teeth and walked through it. His tears had been taken away, evaporated within to try and quench the fires of self-hatred.
And he walked on.
Mega Man X, the greatest Hunter.
And the greatest bearer of his race's grief.
The Maverick known as Serges was still hard at work on the systems of Zero, and at last had finished repairing the crucial circuits and blood vessels within him that gave his body power and his mind control. Serges grinned a toothy grin and paused to rub his mustache between a thumb and forefinger.
"Of course Zero, you do realize I don't repair and revitalize reploids just for the Hell of it. As a former doctor for reploids, you must realize my HMO's charges are…well, EXPENSIVE. And seeing as you're not currently covered by any insurance, I've had to draw up a new plan of payment for services rendered." Serges cackled. "That cost for new life is service with us. With the Mavericks. After all, we're so short on good, solid warriors these days…chalk it up to that blundering damn lucky idiot X and his Keystone Cops. But THAT'S your lucky break. My boy, if I didn't see promise in you, would I waste my time with you?" A part of Serge's mind brought up an old memory he had, of a very famous movie made back during the 20th Century known as The Music Man. "My friends, ya got trouble. I say ya got trouble right here in River City…"
Suddenly Serges fell forth, gasping for air and clutching at his head. A few stifled screams of pain and then trembling, he fell silent. Slowly he picked himself back up and shook his head back and forth.
"The price of being Maverick. You can't have any DAMN FUN." Serges growled, giving himself the finger. His face sneered up into a bizarre grin as he sighed. "Right, right. Business with NO pleasure. Sure. Whatever. Piss off and let me work."
Serges snapped the final plate of armor onto Zero's chest and checked to make sure the magnetic clamps took hold. Satisfied, he saw the metal's edges fade away as they blended seamlessly with the rest of the chest armor, aligning to a few molecules of one another.
"So what say you, Zero? Shall we activate you and begin the process of transforming you into a raging Maverick?" Serges grinned again. "Of course, seeing as control chips lose a few vital tidbits of data when a reploid's restored, that makes half my job of brainwashing easy as a Creepy Crawler oven." Serges looked over to his monitors and nodded.
"All your necessary vitals are in place, my friend. Of course, while your brand new twin X-Busters and yellow beam saber are inactive, be sure that when you're on our side they'll be fully powered and ready to rip through helpless Hunters." The Busters were of particular pride to Serges, an innovation unlike any before that was even greater than X's Mark 18 Purple Blast Buster. Since the day of Mega Man, it had always been the same. You could have Busters in both arms, but they could not both be activated. It overloaded the plasma control circuitry and literally blew the energy bomb off in your face, vaporizing arms in a particularly nasty display of self inflicted chaos. Of course, it was also a powerful suicide move, and one that Zero had used. Serges had no intention of his newest prized Maverick repeating that trick.
The yellow saber was modeled after Sigma's somewhat, but its power had been boosted with another innovation that linked Zero's twin Busters to a beam saber recharger pack Serges had welded just above the small of the ex-Hunter's back. Excess energy could be shunted from the Busters and be ported up to the saber, which could then gain the ability to hurl a powerful and concentrated energy blade of plasma a good fifty meters outwards before fading away into nothingness.
Serges' comm began to chitter, and the ex-doctor frowned, his robotic eye twisting about in a sign of annoyance.
"I'll bet anything it's that fool Agile…" Serges muttered. He clipped his comm to life and routed the signal to his wall communicator. He'd take his call being able to see who he was talking to. "All right then. Who's interrupting me this time?"
An image flickered to life, and this time it was a pair of individuals staring at him. Once again, the large and rounded apelike face of Violen, but also a lanky purple reploid with bright red eyes and a haunting smile that spoke of hidden intentions or a psychological malfunction. Violen grinned a toothy grin.
"Agile wanted to see you too this time." Agile giggled for a moment and waved his hand at Serges. Serges scowled and gave the purple dolt the finger.
"I'm on the verge of activating Zero's systems with a power infusion. Care to tell me why you've ceased my countdown?" Agile stuck his tongue out indignantly at Serge and shrugged.
"Actually, we were just calling to see if you were almost done with him. If that's the case then, just bring him online. We might all as well be present for the rebirth of the great Zero!"
"Perfect. I could sell popcorn for this." Serges grumbled, turning about and hovering towards Zero on his stabilized floating platform. He stopped next to a particularly large console and turned about, grinning mischievously at the two reploids behind him on the crystal display screen. Raising a finger, he prepared to push a very large red button on the controls and coughed loudly.
"I'll need a countdown, you two." Agile raised his hand.
"I'll do it! I'll do it! Tennineeightsevensixsivefourthree…" Agile's voice was suddenly clipped off as a large and weighted backhand from the angered Violen sent him sprawling to the floor. Violen turned back to Serges and shrugged.
"Sorry, he's been like this all day."
"Administer a sedative. You care to finish it, Monkey Man?"
"I'm a believer…" Violen said wistfully. He raised another hand. "THREE!!! TWO!!! Uuhh…." Suddenly, Violen's eyes folded over and he took on a confused appearance. "Uuhh…what's after two?"
Serges groaned and smacked himself in the face with a hand.
"Why in Sigma's holy name were you the other two our great leader assigned to take command if he was killed? Violen, the number is ONE. That's also the number of IQ points I'd expect you to average on any given standardized test. Unless they're quizzing on the number of pounds you can crush with that mace on your butt." Serges rolled his eyes and turned away from the viewscreen, opting instead to look down on his reborn creation.
"It's magic time, Zero…Say Cheese!"
Serges slammed his finger down hard on the red activation button.
"Hey hey hey!" Cain exclaimed as X walked into the main warroom of the MHHQ. While monitors overhead kept constant vigil over the earth, with one screen holding a huge map of the globe and its continents, Hunters below tapped away and kept one ear tuned into headphones that told them important information. X could identify the situation clearly with just his eyes.
There was nothing dangerous, troublesome, or Maverick happening in the world of late. Not even a small blink of a troublesome small group. And that relieved X somewhat. But he was still moody, as moody as he had been when he became a Hunter. Cain noticed it, but chose wisely to ignore the symptoms and push on.
"X, have anything new to report?" Cain asked. X shrugged and threw Cain a datapadd.
"I overlooked the proposal of reinstating individual Hunter Units. And I think it's a good idea. We have enough Hunters on base now to form at least five Hunter Units. The Second, the Third, the Fourth, the Fifth, and the 17th." Cain frowned.
"Why the 17th? What about the First?" X narrowed his eyes.
"The First Maverick Hunter Unit is just that, Cain. The FIRST. Abetting the fact that they went Maverick and nearly destroyed their own organization, I think it would be insulting to their memory to give someone else that title." Cain rubbed his chin.
He hated it when X made sense.
"All right then, X." Cain said. "I'll start reviewing Hunter stats for Unit placement soon. But it'll be another month before anything solid is in print." X nodded.
"Which means I'm still in charge of over a hundred reploids." Cain nodded.
"Yeah. But admit it, it seems kind of fun!" X rolled his eyes.
"It's no water slide, doc." X looked about the room. "So, I take it things are quiet?"
"Like a wake on the Antarctic." Cain replied. "Although I kind of enjoy the P and Q myself. No doubt you do as well." X opened his mouth to speak…
But a sound stopped him cold. A comm chitter that rang about the war room with a priority one message. Cain hit the transceiver embedded in his command chair.
"Cain here. Who's calling?"
"Hazil." Came the gruff reply. Cain blinked annoyedly.
"Don't tell me I forgot to take my medicine again."
"Stuff the medicine, doc." Hazil snapped back. X looked over to Cain in surprise. Hazil was rough around the edges, but he never got snippy about his profession.
Never…so what was doing this now?
"Something wrong, Hazil?" Cain queried, sharing X's sudden confusion. Hazil let out a small sigh of exasperation.
"I wanna see you and X down here in the Medical Bay now. I just got something by express delivery…"
Cain looked up into X's eyes and the two exchanged a questioning glance.
Just what was so important Hazil would disrupt their work?
"All right Hazil, where's the fire?" Cain asked as he hobbled in the door. X followed closely behind, his glum mood pushed back by one of wonder and befuddlement. Hazil rotated his tank tread wheel base around in a 180 to face the two of them, then waited until the door hissed shut. Hazil looked up to the ceiling and spoke.
"Computer, disable all monitoring and recording devices in the Medical Bay until further notice."
"Acknowledged." Came the soothing male basso voice, indicating Hazil's request had been carried out. Hazil pointed at Cain with a finger and silenced his words before they even escaped his mouth.
"Trust me Cain, I have a damn good reason for pulling this stunt. Just sit down someplace where you won't fall…because when I tell you what I have here, it's very likely the BOTH of you will end up losing your balance." Cain shut his mouth and quickly sat down alongside X on an empty medical cot. Hazil nodded, then reached behind him and pulled a container from beside his computer. With an underhanded throw, he lofted it towards X who caught it with ease. X scrutinized the outside of the box, then unsnapped the hinges and peered inside.
A small circuit board of modern design stared right back into his face. X frowned.
"A circuit board…" X's eyes widened. "Hey, this is a reploid control chip!" Hazil snapped his fingers with a fiery fevered gaze.
"Correct, X! The very thing that makes us reploids what we are. The thing that holds our memories, our thoughts, our feelings, and our temperaments. What gives us life beyond simple robots." Hazil turned about and began to roll back and forth between two sections of the Medical Bay, his equivalent of pacing.
"Before the First Uprising, I was working with one Hunter in particular. He was kind of fearful that at some point he'd get the crap beat out of him, and that he'd be shut down. With his help and a little revolutionary warp generator programming, I managed to design a subroutine for his mind and body if he was ever fully shut down, and then reactivated." Hazil paused, then continued, noting that now he had both Cain and X's full attentions.
"Sadly, that prophecy did come true. He passed away, thought lost to the world for all time. His body supposedly blown to atoms in a fiery explosion, I put it out of my mind and forgot about the little mad science experiment we concocted for him." Hazil swiveled and leveled a haunting stare at the two on his cot.
"Until now." Hazil plucked out a Medical Scanner and tossed it at the two of them, and X caught the second object as easily as the first box. "X, if you run a scan on that little control chip there, you'll find the exact same stunning piece of information I did."
X lowered the device down to the box and the chip within and activated the scanner. Within moments its rudimentary scan had completed, and X knew what the scan's main purpose was.
To identify whose control chip this was. And the person it belonged to…
Left X's jaw slack as he gaped like a fish out of water.
"But…but…" Hazil shrugged frantically.
"Obviously X, now you know why I disabled the recording devices in this room. If word of this gets out…it could really have the shit hit the fan." Cain frowned and snatched the device out of X's grasp, reading it for himself.
His reaction also included a surprised gasp for air.
"For the ever lovin cross of Mike…" Cain gaped, his suddenly trembling hand dropping the medical scanner down beside him on the cot.
Hazil merely folded his arms and allowed himself a wide smile of satisfied superiority.
"Congratulations, you two. We just got a very big early Christmas present…although I believe the proper term is 'batteries not included.' It's missing a few parts…LIKE THE BODY." Hazil sighed. "What I do know is that someone had all of his parts rounded up somewhere, and they were trying to restore power. When that happened, the auto sub-routine I programmed kicked in. Sadly, the parts weren't completely connected. Or we'd have all of him, and not just his brain."
But for X, it was enough. It was hope. A hope that filled his chest to a level of joy that almost made him burst. And the Medical Scanner blinked softly, its message now heard by the three people who deserved to observe it the most.
Reploid Control Chip
Specification: Maverick Hunter, unit disabled 6-19-2118
Status: Operational, no damage
Identification: Hunter #145
COMMANDER ZERO OMEGA