The Mind Traps Within

By: Kat

Chapter Two-Revisited Deception

Sunlight filtered into the room, granting it the first vestige of a new day. A few birds chirped here and there, but it still seemed a bit too early for the majority of the rest of the population, animals, humans, and reploids alike. Lying peacefully was the occupant of the cramped quarters, in her last moments of slumber. As she awakened, her hand shot to the side of her hip and fingered a small irregularity in the side of her armor. A hidden compartment opened to reveal the tip of a glinting metal edge. Sighing in relief, the armor-clad individual finished easing the last bits of sleep from her systems, and she shook her head slightly.

"Oh god, what am I doing up this early?" she moaned. Checking her internal chronometer, she was right in her assumption. It was oh-six-hundred, and the slight lighting of the room reinforced this fact.

Pushing the lid of her confining stasis capsule, she took in a deep breath to clear her still-dull senses. "I am NOT a morning person," she complained loudly to herself.

Yawning, she stood up and stretched for a good few seconds. Her eyes opened slightly in a squint as she took a look at her arms, which were covered with a medium-blue shade material, while her wrists were encased in a hard titanium substance; they were otherwise known as wrist gauntlets.

"Ach. Why in the world do I still have this on?" Her gaze traveled downwards, all the way to the tip of her armored boots. A few foggy memories entered into her consciousness instantaneously at the self-stated question.

"Oh, I remember. I was working in the rec room real late and got too tired to even make the effort to warp out of my armor." Her gloved fingers massaged the bridge of her nose. "I had better stop talking to myself before someone thinks I'm headed to the loony bin."

A blinding light surrounded her and quickly faded, her blue and black armor replaced by a blue v-necked shirt, which was covered partly by a pearl-white colored vest. To finish the ensemble, her jeans were a dusky blue with a white pair of shoes with black streaks.

This reploid was a bit odd if you were to consider the last statement. Most reploids have permanently attached dash boots, and while they can warp from their armor, the boots remain. But with this one, the fact was not valid.

"Much better," she muttered in approval, examining her outfit with a quick sweep from her blue-eyed gaze. Mentally, she contemplated her next move of the day and quickly came up with a solution. "Now for a bit of breakfast, then."

With a quick two-step, she entered one of the near-deserted hallways of MHHQ. During a period of Maverick activity, many Hunters could be seen striding through the beige halls in early morning, but since this was not the case, most chose to stay in and sleep for a bit longer. The female Hunter walked with a slow but purposeful stride to her intended destination–the Mess Hall. She hummed a spontaneous little ditty as she walked.

"Oh woe is she, no sleep for me. So unfair, no one cares."  Her chest heaved heavily in a sigh from realization of what she was doing. "Oh what a sad life I lead."  She paused.  "Maybe that loony bin idea isn't so bad after all." The Hunter in question continued her slow, relaxing walk onward.

Only passing three other individuals on her way, the female made her way to the Mess Hall doors. Entering the hall, an odd phrase came to mind.

"Welcome to the realm of the living dead," she murmured. The statement was generally true to some extent as she caught sight of the few others in the room. Dreary, glossed-over gazes seemed the standard for the majority of people seated in the room, with one or two bright-eyed and perky individuals thrown in here and there. More sleepless nights and late training it seemed, though she didn't consider hers sleepless exactly.  Just cut short.

Stepping up to the kitchen staff counter, she cleared her voice. "Uh, scrambled eggs with some bacon. Scratch that. Just give me a bagel with cream cheese on the side." Within seconds, a member of the morning kitchen staff handed her a plate. Smiling in response, she picked up the plate and took a seat at a nearby table. "The wonders of our kitchen staff. Almost anything for anyone," she sighed with relish.

Moments passed, and her happiness quickly subsided into boredom at her surrounding environment. Tapping her fingertips on the tabletop, she took a small bite of her bagel and swallowed. "This is why I don't get up early. One, it's boring as all get out, and two… Well, it's just too darn early." Her appetite quickly disappeared and she stood, getting ready to toss the half-eaten bagel. A pair of cool hands set themselves on the upright Hunter.

"Wait just a minute there! Someone hasn't finished their breakfast!"

The standing Hunter whipped around, her fists clenched, ready to kill the idiot who decided to surprise her.

"Yikes! I forgot I shouldn't sneak up on you like that. Kat, you should know my voice by now!" a startled Desiree exclaimed. "Calm down!"

An embarrassed Kat relaxed and used one of her now unclenched hands to run a few fingers through her blonde hair. "Oopsie there. Sorry, it's just kind of a reflex reaction I have."

Desiree gestured her hand in dismissal at the apology. "I understand. It comes with the job, I know. So what are you doing up so early? I don't believe I've ever seen you up before oh-eight-hundred hours in the past few months."

Kat tilted her head quizzically before responding to the other Hunter. "I don't know; I kind of just woke up."

"Ah, it happens to the best of us. Care to take a walk with me?"

"Gladly."

The two walked passed the sparse crowds of dreary Hunters and exited the Mess doors. Desiree clasped her hands behind her back as they began their stroll. "So, did you get my message?"

Kat responded, a note of puzzlement seeping into her voice. "Can't say I did." Their footfalls resounded quietly off the corridor walls in between the silence from the conversation.

As Desiree nodded, a lock of her dark hair fell in front of her no less exotic bronzed face. "When I reached your room last night, there was no answer. I left you a voice message with the computer, but I figured you wouldn't check anyway."

"You would be correct in that assumption. I was in heavy training for a good part of the day and was so exhausted I just went back to my room for rest."

"Mmm. Well, I talked to Whiplash and he agreed to meet us at the café at 1230. Oh, and about the match…" She drifted to a stop for the moment.

"Match?"

"Yeah. Whiplash and I are going to the bout between Zero and Flare at 1600."

"Holy! Those two are having a match?!" Kat was completely surprised while also appearing a bit thrilled, eyes wide in anticipation. "That would be fun to watch. Two of the great powerhouses of MHHQ facing off!"

"You can come with us if you want."

Kat reacted by smirking as she responded to the invitation. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

They came across a group of rookie Hunters in the quiet hallway, looking as if they were ready for some early morning training. One of the unassuming hotshots whistled over his shoulder at the pair. Desiree and Kat glanced at each other, both appearing just a little ticked.

Desiree breathed under her breath. "Immature."

Kat glanced at her and nodded. "Yes but…I really feel like starting up some fun to break up the early morning bore. You?"

"Gotcha covered."

Both Hunters flashed at the same moment, as if linked by some psychic connection: one in blue and black, the other in purple and shimmering silver. Desiree became a lightning blur as she kicked up her dash thrusters, pinning the offending rookie to the wall as his friends peered on in shocked interest. Once again, Kat opened up the secret compartment on her armor, but this time pulling out the piece stored within. Slowly and menacingly, she held up a five-point star of gleaming metal to the pinned Hunter's neck.

She hissed and breathed hotly on his neck. "I know it's not normal for another Hunter to hurt one of their own but…"

Desiree grinned darkly and joined up in the scene by pulling out her saber and igniting it, letting the glow deepen her features. "Well, we're not all angels. Never mess with a Hunter, ESPECIALLY a female Hunter. What should we do to this one?" She waved her saber frighteningly close to the rookie's face, which was now covered in a slight film of sweat.

Kat's eyes narrowed. Her face was shadowed from the early morning light, making her expression seem even more deadly. "We could slit his throat… Or dismember him, piece by piece. That would be fun, don't you think?" The already terrified rookie's eyes widened and he gave a mew of terror that came out as a squeak.

"You're–you're Mavericks!"

"Ha." Desiree waved her unoccupied hand. "No." Her voice dropped and could barely be heard. "But that won't stop us, will it Kat?"

The other sneered. "Right. But I feel like I'm in a relatively good mood today…"

One of the restrained Hunter's friends peeped up, his voice scratchy. "That's your GOOD mood?"

Kat gave the speaker such a glare that she thought he might faint right then and there. "I think we're done with this one. But be forewarned! Next time we won't be so lenient."

That was Desiree's cue to release the rookie from his stiffened position against the wall. She deactivated her saber while Kat pocketed the star of metal that had occupied the space near the rookie's neck. The hotshot was now reduced to a whimpering invalid as he stood, still racked with fear.

"Leave before we change our minds," hissed Kat sinisterly, giving her final warning.

And without further ado, he shot away and around the corner, followed by his other equally frightened friends. The duo stood in their menacing poses for several seconds of silence until they burst into a fit of laughter.

Kat pretended to wipe an imaginary tear from her eye. "Ah, another group of rookies scared shitless! Priceless."

Shaking her head, Desiree couldn't stop herself from grinning. "Why do I help you with this? But that WAS pretty amusing."

"Amusing? That was one of the funniest things I've seen in my life! Did you see his face? He nearly had a freaking heart attack!" She brought a hand to her head, still grinning like a maniac. "That was WAY better than last time."

"I agree; I'd have to give our performance a definite 10 this time, though you DID do most of the talking," granted Desiree with a sweep of her hand.

"Thank you, thank you ladies and gentleman!" Kat chuckled, bowing to her imaginary audience. She took a few deep breaths, her grin fading, though she let a faint hint of one remain. Her armor disappeared in a flash, replaced by her casual outfit, with Desiree following suit. The two resumed their walk as if nothing had happened, with Desiree once again clasping her hands back behind her back.

Glancing at the superior-ranked Hunter, Kat sighed. "So, anything else new? Today had been full of surprises, hasn't it?"

Desiree's face became a little more serious to the inquiry. "Actually, now that you mention it, there is. You know how they've been looking for a new sub commander for your unit?"

Kat frowned in consternation. "And who is "they" exactly?"

"The unit commander has some say in it, but the choice is mainly up to Cain by viewing training records. Flare may have suggested one or two possibilities, or none at all knowing him, but Cain is the one who says if it goes through."

The blue Hunter's frown deepened as she mulled over the fact. "And pray tell, did they find a replacement?"

Desiree nodded solemnly. "It seems they have. The new sub commander will be announced at 1100 hours tomorrow, but it won't be as blatant as that. They'll be called over to the War Room, and only the Unit Commanders know of the actual importance of the call."

"So why tell me this?"

Blinking, Desiree unclasped her hands and put one out with an uplifted palm. "One, it has to deal with your Unit. Two, I believe that you are one of the prime choices for the position."

Kat stopped suddenly and looked at the commander in stunned disbelief, her body rigid. "Me? In your opinion, or officially?"

Desiree sighed at the question, lips pursed. "Both, actually. I don't have an official confirmation, but you could be the new sub commander of the 15th."

"Holy crap." Kat leaned against the closest wall for support as she went limp. "Me, a sub commander? You've got to be kidding."

"No jokes, Kat," Desiree said in all seriousness.

The Hunter chewed her lip as her mind was slowly trying to process the importance of what Desiree had said. "I don't know if I should be happy, or scared out of my freakin' godforsaken mind."

Taking up a position on the opposite wall, Desiree crossed her arms, her head slightly bowed downward. "Do not forget it's unofficial, though. It IS a large responsibility and should be taken in all seriousness. Even though it is not a full Commander, you would have a tremendous part of making the decisions taken within your Unit. And also do not forget that if anything were to happen, you would be in charge."

Kat covered her eyes and leaned her head backward to touch the wall. "Ach. I feel a nice migraine coming on." For a moment, neither Hunter spoke. Suddenly, Kat banged her head on the wall brutally. "Shit!"

Desiree, appearing surprised at the others' sudden outburst, stood up at full height immediately. "What?!" Her face and voice appeared equally panicked.

Banging her head again, though not as violently as before, Kat covered her face with her hands. "We're talking about the 15th, right?"

"Yes," Desiree said uneasily. "Why?"

She uncovered her face and looked at the bearer of news. "That would mean I'm with FLARE, right!?"

"Yes," repeated Desiree, seeing where this was all going.

A strangled choking sound came from Kat's throat. "It's freaking hard enough working under him! Being his second means I'd actually have to talk to him! He can be cocky, won't listen to anybody when he has his mind set, and will go do whatever the hell he wants! Oh kill me now," she moaned.

Desiree widened her eyes and blew air out through her lips quietly. "I guess you'll just have to learn how to make a working relationship with him."

Groaning, Kat looked at Desiree with one eye. "You make it sound so easy. How are YOU and your second?"

"Well, we get along fairly well. But it's not like everybody will be the same; you should know that."

"I wish." A disgruntled Kat stood up, trying to regain a somewhat composed appearance. "Whatever happens, wish me luck."

"I do, don't you worry. We're still on for lunch, right?"

"Yeah. Where's Whiplash, anyway? I thought he was another one of those early risers, like you."

Desiree shrugged. "He's probably catching up on his sleep today. He has a training sim with X and the 17th in about two hours." Her mouth curved downwards in a half-frown. "And he had better not get too beat up. Don't want him in stasis for a few hours; he'll miss lunch."

Nodding in agreement, Kat began to pace down the hall with Desiree in tow, the latter trying to catch up with Kat's quick stride. Desiree peered at her quizzically with a sideways glance. "Something the matter?"

"I just need to walk off the news a bit, that's all."

"Remember, it isn't official. You might not even be the one, you know."

Kat shook her head morbidly. "Now that the cat's out of the bag, metaphorically speaking, it'll happen. It's just the way things are; what goes up must come down, what comes around goes around, and all that stuff. But the experience should be quite interesting to say the least."

"You sound so sure," Desiree muttered skeptically.

"I am sure. Dead sure."

"Whatever," said Desiree, deciding to change the topic of conversation. "So anyway…" The duo's voices faded as they continued their walk through the labyrinth of hallways in the infamous Maverick Hunter Headquarters.

**********

The murmur of voices filled the room, becoming a muted undertone. Hunters were standing, talking in groups inside the large room, all of them having protection against their opposing Maverick forces. Some carried sabers, but most were only equipped with busters. It was a rainbow of colors, glares being created by the lighting of the room upon the Hunters' multi-colored armors.

The masses of Maverick Hunters suddenly stood at attention, all of them hearing the doors swish open. Inward walked Mega Man X, clad in his battle-weary blue armor.

"At ease," he called, not overbearingly but loud enough so everyone could hear. The standing hordes relaxed, their gazes still locked on the Commander of the 17th.

"I don't exactly love doing these sims as you all know, but Cain and I agree that we have to do them occasionally in case of a sudden Maverick attack. Don't worry about it; just do your best. Everyone, check yourselves and make sure that you're fully equipped and ready. Do not forget that though this is a simulation, you will feel the blasts caused by our holographic opponents." X paused, letting his unit take this all in. "I know many of you know this, but I am doing it for the benefit of the newer rookies that have recently joined the 17th. Congrats, by the way. Comprende everyone?"

Murmured approvals whispered throughout the crowds. X nodded. "All right, everyone. Time to begin. Computer, begin simulation 1HUNT2X."

Simulation verified. Date: December 13, 2118. Program engaged.

The air shimmered around the Hunters and solidified into a seemingly solid environment with holographic Landchasers filling the supposed hangar of MHHQ. A couple of the Hunters sucked in a deep breath in realization of what and where the simulation actually was.

X sighed himself, remembering what terrors and pain this day had wrought. But that was part of the reason he had chosen it in the first place. It was time again to face the demons, though for the most part, he would be a bystander. That day years ago, he had turned from a broken soul to a vengeful warrior once again.

"All right everyone. Time to saddle up," X said resolutely, getting on the nearest Landchaser. The other members of the 17th took their positions on their Landchasers, ready to face the first threat posed by the X-Hunters as a team. Back then, no one had made it through the initial attack, except of course for X. It had turned out that the Maverick attack was only a distraction in the first place, adding insult to injury. They were determined not to let the same fate befall them, holographic or not. Glances were exchanged, the Hunters realizing the importance of this simulation. This 17th was not going to fail like they had those few years ago.

"Let's go," muttered X. Twenty-three Landchaser cycles revved to life, filling the bay with a vibrating hum. For the second time, X interlinked his warp generator signal with his cycle's. This was all so fake…but at the same time all so real. Then, twenty-three Hunters shot up, Landchasers in tow, their warp signatures leaving behind blurs of color. Soon, they would retouch down in no different a place than they were now, all of it just visual imagery to fool the mind.

**********

Whiplash coalesced, now sitting in a desert wasteland, his Landchaser still thrumming. He watched as the frontline Hunters shot off to their destination until he followed himself. Whiplash noticed that X had chosen to remain in the back of the pack, probably to keep an eye on the unit's progress. They were here only for training after all, though he knew this program held great importance to X and the unit as well. He trained his eyes ahead, looking for signs of the faux Maverick base. The attack may have been a distraction, but it was no less deadly.

Suddenly, a blast of white plasma energy blew into the sand five feet to his left, nearly knocking a fellow Hunter off his cycle. More blasts followed this one, scattering the Unit even further apart. A stray shot caught one of the frontline Hunters, who yelled a loud curse as he was thrown from the Landchaser.

The only difference in this simulation would be that no one could die. But they might be knocked into stasis for a bit, depending on how hard they got hit. That guy wouldn't be awake for a while, that was for sure.

Whiplash kept his gaze sharp, determined not to be struck. The base was becoming visible as they were nearing, while the weapons fire became equally more pronounced. Two, three, and then five Hunters were hit, two with the same blast. Whiplash grimaced as he saw one of the 'chasers blow upon a direct hit to its fusion generator, throwing the rider back into the desert sands. That left seventeen Hunters, but they were still a ways from the base. This part of the exercise was more on being able to evade, and your skills as an operator of a Landchaser had to be fairly advanced. This would be a definite indicator for several of the Hunters to catch up on their driving expertise.

Whiplash saw a plasma bullet come his way, a streak against the wind. He veered the 'chaser left, but saw a follow-up shot come directly at him. It was coming too quickly to evade, so he did the only thing he could. He dashed.

Pressing the thruster speeds beyond their normal range, the Landchaser did a wheelie, the plasma energy underneath pulsing. The Landchaser cut through the deadly blast like a knife through butter. He gave a small whoop of approval, easing the speeds back into the green.

"Thank god," he murmured, thinking of what could have happened if he hadn't pushed the 'chaser beyond its normal capabilities.

Tiny bits of sand flew up in Whiplash's face, causing him to blink as he felt the stinging sensation caused by their bombardment. Would have done me good to have a visor, he thought bitterly. But X did it without one, so I should be able to as well. Plus, it's not that bad, anyway. He forced his thoughts away from the minor annoyance and concentrated on the approach.

Suddenly, he heard his comm fritz to life.

"This is Commander X. All remaining Hunters, concentrate your attack onto the incoming Mavericks and make the path clear to the entrance of the base. There will be a 'mech guarding the entryway, so if any of you can get a clear shot, by all means take it. Once inside, disengage your engines; the 'chasers won't have room to maneuver. We'll take it by foot." X cut the communication.

Whiplash silently acknowledged the instructions as he checked the internal operations energy of the Landchaser. It was down to 73%, having caught a couple of stray but nearly harmless blasts. He was safe–for now.

Keying the weapons systems, he easily shot down a few Maverick hover-drones that were making their rapid approach. They blew upon impact, the shrapnel so minute it couldn't be perceived by the eye.

Finally, the faux base became completely visible and a large figure swam into view, presumably the 'mech. The laser fire was thick, like pea soup, and carried out with precision. Slowly, the Maverick plasma fire was picking off more Hunters. Their numbers soon dwindled to a mere nine of the original twenty-three; those remaining were, needless to say, the best pilots. Whiplash inwardly thanked that he had checked up on his navigating skills two weeks before with a buddy from the 17th.

…Actually, the two had been racing across a holographic raceway, complete with obstacles that guaranteed to give you a migraine for the next few days when struck. He had written it all off to a heavy training session when inquired to the heaviness of the wear-and-tear his armor had received. But Cain didn't need to know that.

Concentrate, dammit! His mind hissed at him. Don't need to make the same mistake I did then.

Once again, his comm came to life. The hell…? It can't be X again.

"Hey Whiplash, keep your eyes on the road, will you? That blast almost made its mark. Don't want the same thing to happen again, do you? Be grateful I didn't make a bet on this one, or you might have lost again then and there."

Whiplash paused in making a reply, vainly trying to take a couple of potshots at the gigantic 'mech that was making a fast approach. One closely shaved one of the 'mech's legs, making it stumble for a moment, but it quickly regained its balance.

"Freez, cut it out. I'm gonna be much more careful this time, okay? Just concentrate on your attack and don't worry about me."

An exasperated sigh sounded on the other end. "What makes you my superior? We're the same rank."

"I've been in this Unit way longer, making me much more experienced. Now shut up and try to take out that freaking 'mech."

"Yes sir," Freez grumbled after a second's pause. He cut the communication abruptly.

More shots were taking their place on the thickly armored 'mech's carapace. Whiplash shook his head as the wind pushed past his face. None of the shots were directly on target and weren't causing much damage. The 'mech was as strong and deadly as ever. But moments later, he considered taking back the statement.

A shot flew past from behind him in the blink of an eye, an inferno of fury and plasma energy combined in one. The 'mech didn't know what hit it.

The unbridled energy crackled across the imposing frame and it shuddered in response. Another shot followed, knocking out the right leg of the behemoth, and it fell to the sand, slightly lopsided. It took no more than an instant for Whiplash to figure out what had happened.

It was X.

The once daunting figure of the 'mech was reduced to nothing more than a bump on the horizon, its systems struggling for survival. Finally, it gave in to the imminent overload as the exposed circuitry crackled with uncontrolled energy. The 'mech's fusion generator detonated, causing a deafening explosion. And then, all was quiet except for the hum of nine Landchasers as they set down inside the main entrance of what seemed to be a once thriving factory.

Disengaging the thrumming engine, Whiplash quickly hopped off the ergonomically correct seat of the 'chaser, landing as quietly as one could in armor. He primed his buster for action as he awaited the approach of incoming Mavericks. None revealed themselves inside their seemingly unoccupied portion of room, while silence reigned in all its glory.

His stance relaxed as he turned to face the remains of the unit. Whiplash locked gazes with a now fiery tempered X. His aquamarine eyes crackled with unbelievable intensity, remembrance of this day their guiding factor. Whiplash nodded in silent respect and acknowledgment to the champion of three Uprisings. X's eyes closed as he returned the gesture, briefly smothering the fire from within.

"There's no time for small talk; the Mavericks will be on us in moments. Let's finish this while we can," X stated with finality. No other words were exchanged.

All Whiplash could hope for was that he wouldn't be hurting for a long time coming later.

For he knew all too well how this confrontation ended.

**********

Whiplash struggled not to scream as he plunged freefalling into the darkness. The weightlessness he was experiencing in his stomach was anything but pleasant. The whole incident left him disoriented as he tried to regain some form of balance–until he slammed back first into the ground. His left shoulder struck the surface solidly and his back arched in agony, a strangled cry escaping his lips. Whiplash's breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to regain the air he had lost from the jarring impact and ease the horrendous pain he felt roil through his body.

Slowly, he struggled to his feet and attempted to clear his senses from the thick soup that threatened to leave him helpless. Rubbing his forehead with one palm, Whiplash morphed his opposing hand into the deadly buster that was the trademark of his life as a Hunter.

"Sh–" he started to moan, until blinding lights shown down from above upon the now revealed expansive maintenance bay, startling the bruised Hunter. Scaffolding rose up high in the air, seemingly ten times his height.

Shielding his eyes, he slowly peered upwards at the tremendous sight. "The heck? It couldn't possibly be that big–?!"

He was consequently thrown to the ground again as a deafening clang sounded throughout the bay.

Picking himself up, he caught sight of the monstrosity that had caused the whole room to shake. "No way," he murmured incredibly.

The behemoth reached stories tall, an astounding mass of armor and circuitry. Whiplash snapped out of his stupefied wonderment as he realized the danger the giant posed.

"Whoo boy," he breathed quietly. "Let's get moving."

Quickly, he positioned himself under the edge of the nearest piece of scaffolding. Whiplash jumped and grabbed hold with astonishing dexterity. Why bother with ladders?

Pushing off the side, his fingers grasped onto the side of the second upraised platform with ease. Suddenly, the whole structure shook slightly. It caught Whiplash by surprise and his hands slid off. Rapidly falling a few feet, he hastily grasped onto the first platform's side to stop his descent. Out of the corner off his eye, he saw the giant's foot had moved forward towards the scaffolds.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he chided himself angrily. "Never let your eyes stray from the target. Basic training," he huffed for a second time. The platform shook again as the behemoth took yet another step.

"Time to stop dilly-dallying," he muttered. Bending his knees, he pushed off again and grabbed the second scaffold once more. Again, the tremors.

"Come on," he hissed as his body tensed for the next leap. Hurling himself into the air, Whiplash engaged his dash systems, giving him a few added ergs of thrust. Flying through the air, he shot past one platform. Frantic as to not miss his window of opportunity, he took hold of the edge of the next with a single hand. He hung like laundry out to dry, gently swinging back and forth.

Promptly, he swung his legs over and onto the last scaffold. Still on his hands and knees, Whiplash began to rise but swiftly dropped flat to the surface as he felt a tidal wave of air pass over his head. He tipped his head upwards to spot what had caused the disturbance.

The behemoth was directly to his right, with a giant arm equipped with deadly "hands", if they could even be called that, now crossing its body. It had taken a swipe at him!

Whiplash decided to retract his assumption as he heard a sickening crunch reverberate off the walls behind him. He leaped up and swung around to face the source of the collision.

Three scaffolds away lay a battered Freez, his white and pale blue scarred and dented from the impact. He was lying in a crumpled heap, his chest heaving heavily. Slowly, the bruised and slightly bloody Hunter began to stand. Leaning on his right leg, he brought up the opposing one to rise…and howled as he crumpled to the floor again, his left leg jutting out at an odd angle.

Whiplash grimaced. Suddenly, a blast of plasma came hurtling over his shoulder and struck the head of the beast with dead-on accuracy. Blinking furiously, he noticed what an opportunity he was missing. Raising his arm, he released the charge he had built up on his way into the interior of the maintenance bay. The level three plasma fire was an orb of crackling energy and it slammed as with the last shot using perfect precision.

The monster's yellowed eyes flickered at the impact. Its hand that had struck Freez now came hurtling toward him in a show of power. Whiplash dropped and rolled. The claw missed him by inches. A groan sounded behind him as he spun shooting plasma at the head of the humongous mechaniroid. The giant flinched slightly and once again waved at him like he were a fly. Whiplash ducked as the hand safely flew over his head.

Taking a moment, he caught a glimpse of the origination of the moan. A Hunter two platforms back was clutching his shoulder in pain. The wound was bleeding profusely, but Whiplash knew that soon it would almost certainly stop because most likely, it was already sealing itself off internally. This all passed in just a second…

But that moment was all the mechaniroid needed to gain the upper hand. Literally.

As Whiplash turned around, buster raised, the claw caught him in the side. In a sense, the thing had backhanded him.

Dots of sparkling light decorated Whiplash's vision as he took the blow in full stride. He was sent flying backwards and landed four platforms behind his original position, skidding on his backside across the metal surface. He fell off the platform and weakly latched onto the side with one hand, leaving him dangling.

With no small effort, he hoisted himself up and collapsed onto the platform. Coughing, he was surprised to see blood splatter, marring the gleaming metal. He gingerly touched his side without bothering to look down; his fingers came back warm and sticky. Grimacing, he finally peered downwards and spotted the tremendous gash that was covering a good portion of his side. The glistening property of the substance made bile rise in his throat, and he struggled to keep it in check.

"How…" Whiplash's voice wavered. "It's not supposed to–"

He gasped as an acute wave of pain washed over him.

"Hurt this much," he finished weakly. It seemed he had underestimated the total destructive power the monstrosity could pack.

Breathing deeply, he pushed with trembling arms and attempted to right himself, but failed. His arms were splayed out and his chest was heaving on the cold and uninviting surface, now partially slick from his own fluids.

Whiplash caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. The Hunter with the wounded shoulder was fruitlessly bombarding the immense 'mech's frame in rapid succession, but its attention would not waver from the still bleeding mess lying on the scaffold two counts away.

It somehow jumped sideways –jumped!– and landed solidly behind the platform Whiplash was sprawled upon. Its yellow eyes betrayed no emotion, but he could have sworn they flashed with something, perhaps vexation. It must have been imagined, for it was unable to even have the ability to "feel" anything.

"It's only the head," he rasped. "It's only the head!" He tried to raise his voice for the other Hunter, but it was no use. Where are those goddamn fools! He inwardly screamed. Most likely they were injured, trampled, or making their way up to the top to face the giant.

Forming his arm cannon, he began to build a charge from his haphazard position on the scaffold, but he knew it was pointless.

The paw of the massive 'mech positioned itself directly over Whiplash, poised to strike. He struggled to get his legs to move, but their response was sluggish. Closing his eyes, he awaited the crushing blow that if in real combat could no doubt end his life easily.

It never came.

Befuddled, he peered upward and caught sight of his savior. X was standing next to him, completely outfitted in his glittering armor from the second Uprising. His appearance must have surprised the monster, or at least made it reanalyze the situation. X air-dashed two platforms away and released a seemingly weak level-two charge at the beast's head with lightning quickness.

It concentrated on the grand armored X, leaving Whiplash to breathe easy for a moment. Blinking, he realized that he still had a charge built up. Suddenly he knew what X was doing. Not only was he allowing Whiplash to stay conscious, he was giving him the opportunity to take an open shot at the mechaniroid's head.

"Bless you X," he murmured. With determination, he pulled himself up to onto his knees. Raising the buster, he kept his eyes on the giant target that was provided. A sizzling bolt of energy flew from the barrel and left its mark on the mechaniroid.

It stopped momentarily, not knowing whether to turn around and face his other attacker or keep its attention on X. That was all the time X needed.

Glowing a vague purple, X released the charge he was holding. The almighty level four charge, even more powerful than most Hunters were equipped with. Only the newer models were outfitted with the option, and some were not even given that for fear of rebellion. It spit energy and collided with the head of the 'mech. The abuse was too much for it.

A whine built up and filled the room, and the 'mech's eyes flickered unstably. Suddenly, the entire frame exploded, raining fluid and junked pieces of metal and machinery upon everyone and everything. The barrage lasted for quite a bit and after a few seconds finally concluded with a resounding clang.

Whiplash looked around hesitantly, astounded. All was quiet.

"Thank god," he breathed, doubling over.

He now noticed that his wound had sealed itself off, but he had lost a fairly substantial amount of blood. Whiplash found himself a little lightheaded.

X was currently helping Freez stand up, letting the sore Hunter lean on him for support. Noticing that they were still suspended a few stories in the air, X realized they were still in-program.

"Computer, end simulation," he said. The air shimmered again and solidified into a seemingly simple one level room.

Whiplash found himself disoriented, one from the loss of blood and two, finding himself on the ground again. Attempting to stand, he stumbled and almost fell, his head swimming. X suddenly appeared next to him, catching the bleary-eyed Hunter. X winced, spotting the gash and the pool on the floor that still remained.

"Damn," murmured X. "Let's get you to the Med Center."

Whiplash swallowed thickly and slightly shook his head.

"No sir," he coughed. "Get the others. I'll be fine." He was still having trouble focusing on his surroundings and his eyes seemed to be clouding over.

The commander rolled his eyes at the obvious display of heroics. "I don't think so. We don't have time to argue about this." He eyed the wound openly.

Whiplash stood his ground as best he could. "I'll just warp in sir." He smiled grimly. "Don't need me tracking blood around."

"Good point," a slightly dismal X conceded. "Try not to let Blaze get to you," he offered as final words of encouragement.

"Can do." Whiplash nodded and shot up in a blaze that would reappear momentarily in the Med Center of MHHQ.

Sighing, X looked around at the sad conglomeration of wounded Hunters. Some were peeved about simply getting shot off their bikes; others had more serious injuries from the Maverick factory's obstacles or the giant itself.

"Who am I kidding?" he muttered quietly. "He was the worst one injured." Miffed, he took another look at the weary pack. Inwardly shrugging, he breathed out again. "Not like I would have been any help anyway. I'm no doctor."

Finishing his assessment, X looked upon the masses one more time. "Those of you injured, get yourselves over to Blaze in the Med Center." A wave of groans rolled throughout the crowds.

X waved his hands exasperatedly. "Would you rather be sitting here in pain or just having to deal with a lousy bedside manner? She's not that bad, people." A series of grumbles greeted him.

X's mood changed suddenly to one of a dismal nature. He frowned.  "Enjoy this while you can everyone, because something tells me this won't last forever."

The unit looked at him, some mystified while others peered on in skepticism.

"Commander, with all due respect, Sigma's gone," called a tall lanky Hunter. X vaguely recalled his name being Trael.

"His program was deleted by the anti-virus in the Third Uprising," Trael continued. "You should know; you were there."

X's expression further darkened. "Yes, I know all too well. But the threat does not stop with him. Sigma is not the be all, end all of the Mavericks." Linking his arms behind his back, he persisted. "No, that wasn't the end. It can't have been so easy." He was slowly slipping away and that became obvious to the assembled.

"Sir, perhaps we are finished," another Hunter tried to amend. "The Maverick forces are disappearing and there are no traces of the "virus" causing the infection of reploids. There haven't been any since the end of the Third Uprising."

Holding up a finger, X countered the observation. "Sigma reappeared after two years. Two years! It has only been six months since his third appearance. Have any of you considered that?" X didn't pause but resumed his argument. "If not Sigma, there will be another threat we shall face. If not us, then the ones following our footsteps."

Shaking his head, the commander finished. "This discussion has gone roundabout. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps there will be no more Mavericks. Now we are only relying on mere speculation. We can just sit this out, I suppose," he sighed thoughtfully. X forced a smile. "Now all of you get out of here and have some fun. You only live once." He reconsidered. "Or twice," he smirked faintly at a buried memory.

The Hunters of the 17th were a bit confused at their commander's sudden mood swings to say the least, but soon dismissed it. What could you expect of the one who had stopped complete genocide of the human race on three separate occasions?

They gathered themselves and headed out, many of them planning on taking X's advice. Those injured would make their way, with some help, to the Med Center for the care from their ill-mannered physician Blaze.

"Odd," muttered Trael as he exited the automatic doors. "Definitely odd," he mused once again.

"What're you talkin' 'bout there, Tray?" One of his friends patted him on the shoulder.

"Nah. Nothing important," he waved the question off. "X was just acting strangely there, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. The guy's been through a lot these past few years though. He was every right to be suspicious of our dear Maverick friends." The other shrugged noncommittally.

"I suppose you're right. I'm going to head down to the Mess Hall for some breakfast. Wanna come?"

"Sure. Why not? Can't live off an empty stomach."

Trael grinned. "Yep. You only live once, you know. I heard that somewhere."

"Smart guy, huh? I'll show you some manners one day."

"Manners? You? Hah! Try again, buddy."

His friend only grumbled as they rounded the next corner.

**********

Upon touching down, Whiplash's right leg came out from under him. His shoulder slammed into the wall and he winced slightly from the jolt. As he pushed himself onto his feet with happy assistance from the wall, a voice sounded behind him, as cool and frosty as an ice cube.

"Yet another Hunter beat senseless. How nice. Can't you do anything to not get yourselves bloodied up?" it sneered. But whoever it was didn't stop there.

"And by a simulation at that! Bravo. Really."

Whiplash turned, his face a perfect mixture of anger and annoyance.

"Why the hell did they hire you, Blaze? You've got the worst attitude, you know that? Way to make a patient feel welcome."

Cool gray eyes locked onto his own greens. "I'm here to fix you up from your little accidents, not parent you."

Whiplash snorted disdainfully. "You should try to grant us some credit. I don't see you out there getting beaten up bloody by the Mavericks."

Ignoring the comment, she examined him with narrowed eyes. "Looks like you got struck in the side with a heavy duty spiked mace if there were such a thing."

Pursing his lips angrily, he gave her a menacing glare. "Two words. Second Uprising."

A faint flicker of recognition flashed across Blaze's face.

"Ah. The X-Hunter Incident. Ingenious really," she contemplated quietly.

Whiplash's eyebrows creased. "Whose side are you on?"

Eyes flashing angrily, she shot back her response without missing a beat. "I'm here aren't I? I only speak the truth. That attack maneuver to keep you preoccupied was pure genius."

"So what?" spat Whiplash vehemently. Clearly the subject made his blood boil. "Can we just take care of this?" He pointed avidly at the chunk quite literally missing out of his side.

"Yes, fine," she agreed, albeit seemingly disappointed. She seemed like she had been enjoying the subject. That, or she just liked getting a rise out of Whiplash.

Her eyes lit up, however slightly, after a moment. "Well does it hurt?"

When Whiplash didn't reply immediately, she prodded him again. "Well?"

"Now that you mention it, not really," he conceded.

"Good," she nodded approvingly. "The second I saw you warp in, I flooded the room with a light painkiller. You probably feel a bit drowsy, correct?"

Rubbing his much abused shoulder unconsciously, he replied. "Yes, but I just thought it was from the blood loss." Blaze beckoned him to follow her with her hand. Limping slightly behind her, he resumed speaking.

"You may not be the most friendly soul, but you do get the job done, I'll grant you that."

Without bothering to turn her head, she "hmmphed" at the statement. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

Pausing at a doorway, she waved him forward. "Come in."

"Nice place you got here," he said dryly, observing the sparkling spic-and-span walls.

"You won't be seeing it for a quite a while, I assure you," she retorted. She pointed at the bed in the center of the room. "Lay down."

Whiplash dutifully followed her instructions. Glancing up, he looked at her curiously.

"The others will be here soon," Whiplash reminded her, his voice sing-songlike.

Blaze shuffled through her instruments as she responded. "I have assistants. They'll take care of the rest. You did quite a number to your internals."

"Me?" Whiplash sputtered. "I didn't–"

Blaze waved him off. "Quiet. I will make the assumption you were the worst hurt. I don't see anyone else warping in directly, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, she went on. "You'll be out for a couple hours–"

It was Whiplash's turn to interrupt. "What time is it?" he demanded, not thinking to check himself.

"Oh-nine-twenty. Why do you ask?" Blaze inquired, more out of habit than anything.

"I'm meeting Kat and Des for lunch at twelve-thirty."

Blaze didn't comment, instead pulling out a hypo.

"Well?" questioned Whiplash. "I'm not gonna be late, am I?"

Blaze lifter her brow quizzically, her expression not changing otherwise. "I don't know yet. We'll have to see just how deep the damage is that that thing caused. I'd worry more about my personal health more than making a lunch date, if I were you."

Whiplash opened his mouth to retort, but Blaze cut him off by shaking her head and injecting the hypo into his neck. His head fell limply backward onto the bed as his jaw went slack and eyes closed.

Rubbing her hands together almost gleefully, her normally neutral expression was bordering on slightly amused, and Blaze raised her chin slightly to the challenge posed.

"Time to get to work."