The desert was filled with utter silence. The sand, scalding from the rays of the blistering sunlight, blanketed the seemingly endless field with an errie sort of aura. The sand's clouded fog swept through the misty afternoon breeze, gently scraping the surface of the desolate wasteland. When viewed by at certain angle, you could even consider the serene, peaceful valley to be quite beautiful in an its own awkward way. The flat, perfectly smoothed-out land, totally untouched by man nor machine.
At least, until now.
Smack dab in the center of the barren desert was Glacier Dragoon, keeping a stiffened position, without making any kind of sudden movement. His greyed eyes remained narrow as they darted left and right, observing his current situation. Encircling him was a group of several stray Mavericks, as it seemed. Their golden-plated battle armor glistened in the perpetual sunlight, with their dark blue helmets mounted securely on their heads. Their eyes were all the same - cold, lifeless, and without color. All of them were completely identical to eachother, with the Maverick insignia plated on their glimmering arms. They looked somewhat dangerous, with plasma cannons mounted on each arm. Offing all of them at once would certainly not be an easy task.
Still in his rigid stance, Glacier began to experience a deep feeling of fear. The individuals surrounding him obviously didn't come for a spot of tea and crumpets. They were Mavericks, and powerful ones at that. Their stare was terribly unnerving for the stranded dragoon, which made him feel all the more frightened. The thought of retreat had crossed his mind... but alas, the chances of simply running away unscathed were slim to nil. He had to maintain his dignity, after all.
His mind was in a sea of doubt. Could he really take on a full group of battle-ready Mavericks on his own?
Eight to one.... what fantrabulous odds.... Glacier thought to himself. But I can do this... I just gotta remember what Magma taught me... and combine that with a helluva lot of luck...
Without warning, Glacier's mental pondering was interrupted by what sounded like a plasma shot. The azure dragoon leaned his body to the side just in time - the hiss of white-hot plasma sped past him, barely inches away. Glacier, without hesitation, leapt gracefully into the air and drove his giant monstrosity of a foot into his attacker's vulnerable face. The gold-plated Maverick, obviously not expecting the sudden assault, was knocked back a good few feet before crashing to the barren surface. This was the catalyst in the chemist's flask; Glacier's action instigated three of the other golden soldiers, whom fired several plasma shots directly at him. Though a bit frazzled, the dragoon managed to encase himself within a Frost Shield, which repelled the stray blasts and sent them flying in all directions. With one hand, the dragoon sent an ice beam soaring in the direction of one of the Mavericks, whom was hit dead-on in the chestplate, causing the ice to consume his body. He fell face-first to the desert ground, shattering into a billion pieces.
Ohkay.... two down, six to go. Just stay focused, Glacier.... Dragoon mentally noted, his heart pounding at a rapid pace.
It was only a matter of time before the loud pounding of metallic boots came thundering in Glacier's direction. One of the gold-plated warriors dove at him, his fist in a tight bind as it was swung directly at the lone azure reploid. The assault was unsuccessful, however, as Glacier managed to duck to his knees and drive his knee into the Maverick's stomach, causing him to double over and fall to the ground. Another warrior attempted an assault on Glacier from the rear, but was quickly stopped short as the blue-clad reploid gave him a dose of Shotgun Ice directly in the arm. He then proceeded to land a punch right in the Maverick's face and knock him unconscious, shattering his arm. The dragoon's next attack was quite brutal; he instincively charged madly at a dormant soldier, and with his hand firmly placed in a karate chop-esque style, sliced him symmetrically in half. His torso and legs both fell to the desert surface with a defeaning clang, and fresh reploid blood soiled the once beautiful land. Glacier's chopping hand was now soaked in it; he nonchalantly rubbed the spare blood onto his azure armor and directed his attention at the remaining Mavericks. There were only two of them left; they stood shocked from the actions of their adversary, whom had single-handedly offed six of their comrades without even breaking a sweat. Glacier took full pleasure in watching them quiver with fear. It was something he rarely felt.
Without any further hesitation, Glacier Dragoon charged full force at his enemies, with a mixture of fury and pleasure in his wild eyes. He delivered yet another leaping kick to the first Maverick, hitting him dead on in the chest and knocking him down, motionless. His cockiness quickly became carelessness, however, as Glacier had not been paying attention to his footing and tripped on his right leg. He fell painfully to the desert ground, feeling the full force of the impact. He was totally unexpected for such a mistake, and found himself unable to lift back up. This minor blunder would prove to be fatal; the last standing golden warrior sped over to the fallen dragoon, obviously seeing his opprotunity. Glacier glanced up to see the arm cannon of the Maverick... he shut his eyes tightly, awaiting his death...
....silence.
Glacier, unsure of what exactly had just transpired, reopened his frightened eyes to see everything around him gone. The desert, the sky, the deceased golden Mavericks; everything had dissapeared, and all that was left was a room of total darkness. The dragoon lifted himself gradually off the invisible "ground" and glanced around the room, totally befuddled. It was then that a friendly, familiar voice met his trembling ear:
Well now, Glacier. Looks like you've been defeated. But, for now, I believe that it's time to wake up from the Matrix now, don't you agree?
At that moment, Glacier felt a heavy feeling of drowziness consume his body. The pain he had experienced as a result of the previous battle began to fade away as the dragoon fell to the ground; his vision began to give way, and he soon plunged into total darkness.
"Glacier? Are you feeling alright?"
It was that same voice from before, only it seemed closer and much more tangible.
"....Glacier? It's me, Dr. Cain. It's time for you to get up now."
The weary eyes of Glacier Dragoon barely managed to expose themselves to the brightness of the outside world. All they could see was the rest of their body hooked up to a large set of wires, laying on a large metal platform. All Glacier felt at the time was extreme numbness all over his body; he was incredibly weak from the effects of the machine. The man above him, whom was obviously Dr. Cain, looked down on his test subject and smiled. "Well, Glacier... what did you think about my combat simulation program? It still needs some refinements, of course... but I believe I've made good with this project." The elderly scientist began to unhook some of the wires that were attatached to the dragoon, which had most likely contributed to the simulation effects. "Just stay still for a few minutes, Glacier. I need to unhook the support wires from your body. I promise you that you'll have a good deal of your energy revitalized once I'm finished."
Glacier lay dormant for a little while until the doctor had managed to unattach all of the cords. He spoke once again in his usual gentle, friendly tone of voice. "You probably will be able to get up now, Glacier. You're totally unattached to the machine in any way."
Indeed, he was correct - Glacier's woozy, weak feeling had totally dissapeared, and he could feel his enegry re-surge through his body. Ever-so-slowly, he managed to lift himself up from the simulation table and stand up on his shaky legs. He directed his glance from his own body to Cain and back again. The doctor brushed his beard softly with his hand as he grinned. "That was an impressive display, Glacier. I never knew you were such a well-polished fighter. You finished off many of those high-class Mavericks without a great deal of effort. Very impressive, indeed."
The Dragoon flashed an appreciative smile; being the Commander of the low-class Hunter unit known as the 12th, he wasn't quite accustomed to compliments. His unit only focused on low-profile assignments and battles against the weaker of the Maverick forces. They had gained somewhat of a lousy reputation over the years, as much of the unit consisted of bubbleheaded soldiers who couldn't fire a rifle if their lives depended on it. And Glacier wasn't much of a combatant himself; sure, he could hold off some well-polished Mavericks at times, but he wasn't quite a competent when it came to leadership. Being Commander was something he hadn't planned on - it just turned out that he was the most experienced of the 12th unit, and that wasn't much of an honor. But back in that simulation, he had battled eight seasoned Mavericks and almost managed to destroy all of them and come out alive. Almost. Not bad for a start.
Glacier continued his blank glance at the floor for a little while as Dr. Cain resumed tidying up the simulation area. "I sincerely apologize for any inconviniences you may have experienced, Dragoon. The simulation causes an unfortunate side effect involving a massive energy loss. I did create a backup program, but unfortunately, it only compensated for half of the needed energy. I'm afraid you won't be able to engage in much combat for the next few hours..." His voice trailed off into a series of mumblings. "However," he said with his original gentle tone revitalized, "I'm happy to say that the simulation testing has come to a glorious start. I'm sorry you had to be the guinea pig."
Glacier shrugged. He was obviously very tired, as it shown continuously in his voice and body language. "No problem, doc. But I wish you had chosen a better way of 'convincing' me than shooting a tranquilizer dart into my neck."
"Well, you see, there's quite a funny story to that," Cain began. "You see, X and I were sitting together in the cafeteria after a long session of tray cleansing, and needless to say, I was a tad bit tipsy. So X, a bit perturbed due to the work I had forced him into, made me a bet that if I could hit the dart board on the far wall with a tranquilizer dart, he'd give me five bucks. I willfully accepted (I needed liquor money, after all) and X joyfully lended me a dart gun (don't ask me why he had been carrying it around). Unfortunatley, my sense of direction was a bit fuzzy at the time and I ended up shooting the projectile into your rather pliant neck while you were peacefully eating your lunch." Cain gave a rather insensitive snicker; for a seemingly brilliant scientist, the doctor could be rather immature at times. "Many people in the area began to panic, but when the medics arrived I informed them that I would take care of you personally. As you could imagine, I was quite embarrased by the entire ordeal, but at least I gained a test subject! Sorry I didn't inform you of this when you regained consciousness before the simulation began. I figured you could certainly use a little help in your battle skills."
"Gee... thanks," Glacier stated sarcastically. "So it was X whom orchestrated this fun little experience?"
"Well....not quite," Cain responded. "It was mostly my fault, really. X was quite angry with me at the time, and took advantage of my drunkenness. He certainly has been acting quite strangely since I put him to work."
"Yer damn right, I have!" chimed in the voice of X, whom had been in the backroom the entire time and was just walking in on the conversation. Glacier noticed that he looked drastically different than when he had seen him a couple of weeks back at the infirmary; his usually glimmering azure Titanium-X armor was dirty, burnt, and covered in excessive sweat. His cracked helmet lay very crooked on his skull, revealing a tuft of greasy, jet-black hair sticking out the front. His most noticable and awkward feature, however, was his face - his usual look of peace and optimism was replaced with a mixed expression of insanity and rage. He also looked terribly worn out, with his bloodshot eyes staring blankly at the room. He didn't look like one to be screwed with at the moment.
Disgruntled, X stared directly in Glacier's direction, making the blue reploid feel terribly uncomfortable. There was something quite disturbing about that look.
Finally, X spoke in a raspy tone. "Glacier, I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble... but I can't take this anymore. I haven't had any decent sleep all week. All I've been eating lately has been week-old horse radish and cans. TIN-FRICKIN'-CANS." He began advancing towards Dragoon, making him feel much more uncomfortable. "And then there's the work. Eight hours straight. Honestly! Then Cain makes me take the NIGHTSHIFT every other frickin' day! I'm forced to watch a bunch of moronic humans jackoff all night! What FUN! Then I have CAFETERIA duty, and GARBAGE cleanup, and TOILET WASHING, and BEDPAN CLEANSING..... is there NO END? For Christ's momma, I'm just ONE MEASLY REPLOID! I can ONLY DO SO MUCH!!!"
At this point, X had trodded over to where the already freaked-out Glacier was seated and began shaking him violently. "GLACIER.... LISTEN TO ME! NEVER GET YOURSELF INTO THIS KIND OF WORK! YOU'RE STILL YOUNG! DON'T LET YOUR FEEBLE SELF BE DESTROYED FOREVER BY THE HELL THAT IS FORCED LABOR! TOO MUCH OF IT WILL BREAK YA FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, MAN!!!"
"X, please! That's enough!" Cain finally intervened, pulling X away from Glacier, whom was now practically in tears due to X's unexplainable attack. X's freakish stare was still implanted on him, however. The Dragoon pondered the thought of bolting out the door before X went on a total rampage, but he hadn't the energy to do so. All he could do was sit there and look shocked.
Cain was having a bit of a struggle with X, who was now attempting to break free from his restraint. Luckily, the doctor managed to hold him back. "X, calm down now. You've been having a rough week," he stated. He shifted his glance to Glacier. "I think it would be wise of you to get out of here, Glacier. You need to get some rest. You might want to take the elevator, since the stairs may be too tiring for you with all of the energy you lost..."
Glacier anxiously nodded his head; he had already begun to inch his way towards the nearby exit. As he dashed through the door and down the dark corridor, he could hear the psychotic yells of X echoing in his direction. "HAHAHA, GLACIER! GOOD LUCK USING THE ELEVATOR!" he called to him. "YOU'LL PROBABLY PLUNGE TO THE BOTTOM FLOOR OF THE BUILDING, BECAUSE I CUT THE CORDS! THAT'S RIGHT, PAL! I'VE SCREWED OVER EVERYBODY IN THE FRICKIN' HEADQUARTERS, AND I FEEL PERFECTLY FINE! NO MORE TRANSPORTATION DUTY FOR ME!"
Soon enough, the azure Dragoon had ran all the way up the nearby stairs and vanished out of sight, quite frightened.
Back in the simultion lab, Cain had managed to forcefully sit X's sorry rear end on the matted cushion of the training table. He was quite surprised with the blue reploid's actions, which had not only crossed the line, but urinated on it. The doctor certainly wasn't stupid, as he could clearly see that something had to be done to prevent it from happening again. After some deep mental pondering, he figured there could only be one logical solution... though it was one he wasn't quite happy with.
"Alright X, listen up. I have a proposal for you," Cain soothed, trying to keep the disgruntled reploid stable. "Your behavior over the past few weeks has been rather... well, disturbing. The bedpans you've been washing lately have all had 'All work and no play makes X a dull boy' wirtten all over them, scaring the living hell out of many of the patients. I've also received complaints about some of our Hunters finding medical vaccines in their cafeteria meals, with several of them going into berserk, uncontrollable spasms or expreiencing terribly nasty diarrheia. And frankly, many of our most helpful and experienced mechanics are scared to death of you - I saw a human Hunter literally piss himself when you approached him in the hallway (for reasons that I'm not very sure of)." The old man ruffled through his long beard with his twitching fingers. "X, the time has come for action. I'm not completely sure what the source of this behavior would be, but the most plausible reason would be that you're suffering from a great deal of stress due to the extreme amount of work you've been doing."
X stared at him narrow-eyed. "Goshers, Mr. Cain. What would make you say that?" he stated sarcastically.
The doctor raised his hand. "Please X, let me finish. As I said, you are most certainly suffering from excessive stress. That brings me to my final decision. I really don't like doing this, but I believe it would be best if I... let you go."
The Neo Blue Bomber was dumbfounded. "You mean... you're expelling me from the Hunters?" he inquired feverishly.
"Oh, Heavens no," the doctor replied. "I wouldn't do something as harsh as that unless it was a very serious matter. No, what I mean by 'letting you go' is that I'm going to put a stop to all of the work I've had you do. I really believe you've learned your lesson since that incident with the capsule vandalism, and yet I also believe it would be the best for your mental stability as well. What you need to do is get plenty of rest and take a break from--"
"Wait just a flargin' second," X interrupted, with the doctor in mid-sentence. "What you're trying to convey to me is that... I'm free?"
Cain cleared his throat. "Well... yes. That's what it comes down to."
X really had to ponder this for a moment. "Doctor... you're not screwin' with my brain, are you?"
The doctor smiled. "Now X, you know I wouldn't joke about something like this."
"So that's it? I'm free? No strings attached?"
"None."
Ever-so-slowly, X could feel a wide grin spreading across his non-believing expression. He shifted his eyes from the door to Dr. Cain and back to the door again, breathing hard and releasing a hearty laugh. "I'm free! I'm really FREE!!!" he shouted as he leaped from the dirty, sweat-soaked simulation table and bolted out the same door that Glacier had exited from only minutes before. In a rather unnatural manner, he began sprinting down the hallway screaming "I'M FREE! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! I'M REALLY FRICKIN' FREE!!!" as a few thoroughly spazzed Hunters looked on with distinct awe. The ecstatic azure reploid even went as far as grabbing one of his fellow Hunters and shaking them back and forth like an abused Raggedy Ann doll, screaming in utter delight. 'Twas a matter of time before he went sailing up the steel stairway and out of sight totally, his drunken yells still echoing through the corridor.
All Dr. Cain could really do was shamefully bury his face in his hands.
"Dy-na-moooo! We're not supposed to be here!"
"We're gonna get in sooo much trouble if Sigma finds us up here!"
"How many times to I have to tell you? Get the goddamn hell away from me, you morons! Go suck on some grenades or something." Dynamo flicked a strand of grey hair away from his face. "And for the last time, Cueball won't be barging in on my little escapade. It would be rather idiotic of me if I came prancing around up here and expected wax-head to show his sorry face. I ain't as stupid as you two." He turned his face back to his followers and clenched his fist. "Now I'll say it again, because I don't think you heard me well the first time... GO AWAY."
Dynamo continued his stroll down the long corridor to Sigma's office, praying to every god imaginable that his two training partners, Dark Necrobat and Jet Stingray (pathetically deemed "Juju" and "Chad" by Sigma) would simply disappear into thin air. But woe and alas, his wishes refused to come true, as the two bumbling Mavericks continued to trottle at his heels.
"Dy-na-mooooooo!" Stingray annoyingly whined. "What are you doing up here, anyway? We were given really strict orders to stay in the hangar area until Violen came back. If he finds out that we left, then we'd be in extremely deep crapola!" A pinch of panic met his voice. "What if Commander Violen finds the room empty, and reports it straight to master Sigma? What then?"
"What if I told you that Fat-Ass Violen can cram it up his craphole with walnuts?" Dynamo sharply retorted.
The silver reploid noticed that Jet was quite taken aback. He felt that this needed to be taken advantage of.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he snapped. "Did I offend you, Chaddy-boy? Did something I say go against what your sweet, dear mommy taught you? Well TOO FRICKIN' BAD, Sailor Bob! You can tell your mother that she can suck a piece of cat crap." He turned away from the two and gave a hidden sneer. "Go home, babies. I have business to attend to, and I'm not gonna let it be royaly screwed up by you morons."
Dynamo, now pissed as ever, tried once again to lose the pathetic duo as he advanced down the hallway. Luckily for the sleek warrior, the Mavericks never followed him - however, they did something a little worse.
"DYYYY-NAAAAA-MOOOO! STOP WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING! SIGMA'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD! I'M SERIOUS!!! DYYYNAAAAMOOOOOO!" yelled Stingray at the top of his lungs. Necrobat caught on. "HE'S RIGHT, DYNAMO! DON'T DO WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE DOING! MASTER SIGMA HAS TIGHT SECURITY! YOU'RE HEADED STRAIGHT INTO A DEATH TRAP! PLEEEEEEEASE DON'T!"
This is where Dynamo was forced to draw the line; he could take almost any kind of physical punishment, but he had absolutely no tolerance for this kind of vocal harrassment.
He swerved around and flashed the two an angry glance. "You two just NEVER seem to give up, do yeh? Well, you know what? I'll admit it. You guys are the sunshine of my life. Whenever you guys come to greet me, I feel like I'm on top of the friggin world. The Carpenters would be damn well jealous of me. So to return the favor -" Dynamo smirked as he leveled his sturdy arm cannon in the Mavericks' direction, placing his violet visor over his eyes, "here's a little early Christmas present!"
In an instant, a thousand volts of electricity spewed out of Dynamo's cannon and flashed violently through the air. The bolts consumed the two fully surprised Mavericks, frying them in a horribly gruesome (yet satisfying) manner. Dynamo took full pleasure in watching them go into uncontrollable spasms from the intense mix of heat and blinding pain that had consumed them. After Dynamo figured that they had been punished enough and halted the azure beams, the two could be seen sprawled motionless on the now - tattered red carpet, with large scorch marks covering their bodies. A small amount of thick smoke began to rise from their unconscious torsos and began to consume part of the hallway.
Lifting his visor from his large eyes, Dynamo proudly observed his work. He took a great deal of pride in it. However, he hoped he hadn't drawn the attention of any of the Maverick guards, whom were all downstairs at the time. He figured he'd better take care of business before he was caught.
After glancing around for any wary reploids, Dynamo turned 180 degrees and began to cautiously trod down the corridor, making sure not to make a sound besides the light clanging of his boots. After a somewhat short walk on the refined scarlet carpet, his eyes finally met the entrance of Master Sigma's office. The large polished doors were intricately carved with various designs on the border, and small brass doorknobs were each mounted in the middle of both of them. It was very fancy-schmancy.
"Well...," Dynamo began as he cracked his knuckles, "looks like it's showtime."
The sleek reploid rested his hands on each of the doorknobs and gave them a good tug. No avail; the door was clearly locked. This was to be expected, however, and Dynamo was well prepared for it. He pulled out a small ring-shaped object, which resembled something of a dial with a hole drilled in its center. He fastened it tightly to his arm cannon, which seemed to snap on automatically. Lifting the bulky cannon, he aimed it at the minute breach separating each door and fired a single concentrated laserbeam, rather than his usual burst of uncontrollable electricity. The beam sliced straight through the small separation, widening it further outwards ever-so-slightly.
When the breach had widened enough, Dynamo halted the beam and lowered his arm cannon. He then balled up his fist and thrusted it directly into the doors, causing them to creak open.
First step complete... Dynamo thought to himself. Now to find what I'm looking for, and then I'm out of this hellhole of a fortress....
Dynamo slowly pushed the doors even further away from him as he began to creep his way into the dark, silent room. He switched on a light which brought a lamp beside him to life, illuminating the entire area and increasing the sleek reploid's visibility a great deal.
His eyes darted left to right as he surveyed the area. If my sources are accurate... then the info I'm looking for should be right...
He walked over towards the desk in the middle of the room.
over...
His eyes met a small file drawer at the bottom of the desk.
here!
With that, Dynamo thrusted open the drawer with one hand, filled with anticipation. But alas, the entire drawer was empty; all that could be seen were stray pieces of shredded documents, which were totally illegible.
"God-frickin'-dammit!" Dynamo exclaimed. "That bald-headed bastard must have hidden it someplace! DAMMIT! I knew I shouldn't have underestimated his intellegence..."
After muttering a continuous string of curses, the sleek Maverick heard the loud kashink! of reploid footsteps outside of the door. "Dammit..." he repeated. "If I stay in here for too long, somebody might find me out."
He pushed the file cabinet carefully back into place and angrily stormed out of the room. "Figures," he said to himself. "I bet those two morons have woken up already. Well, if they try to weasel anything out of me, I'll blow a hole through their asses."
Jet Stingray, badly shaken from his injuries, brushed himself off. "Urgh... well, that wasn't very neighborly..." he muttered to himself.
Necrobat barely managed to lift himself up from the scorched floor, stumbling before he had gotten back on his feet. He was injured far worse than his comrade; the entire left half of his body was a deep black, with cracks in his once-glimmering violet armor. He took a good look around the room, shifting his glance from the scorched floor to Stingray and back again.
"Oww..." was all he could really say; he was extremely weak. He was just about to collapse to the floor once again until Stingray grabbed him and stood him back up. "Alright now, Necrobat. Let's not faint. We don't need that..."
Before he could continue, Jet could see the glimmering silvery armor of Dynamo storming down the carpeted hallway. He didn't say a word to the duo as he walked towards them; he simply pushed Stingray to the side and walked sheepishly to the end of the corridor, dissapearing from sight. It left the two very much confused.
"Wonder what's up his ass," Jet commented.
It wasn't very long after Dynamo's departure that another figure came darting towards them, this time from the direction that Dynamo had left from. It was Spike Rosered; it seemed like he had been running a great deal, as he looked severely flustered and worn out. He was panting by the time he had reached the hallway, and rested an open palm against the wall.
"You guys... hurry... you've got to hurry..." he muttered.
"Hurry?" Necrobat shakily voiced. "For what?"
Rosered took another deep breath as he sputtered out one more sentence. "Vi...Vile.... downstairs...he's being.... revived.... RIGHT NOW...."