A few words, if you will, before you begin. First of all, I apologize on the extensively long wait you all had to endure for me to complete this chapter. But believe me, my work was not in vain. I'm quite sure you'll all be very pleased with the result of my labors.
Secondly, I used to think it almost undignified to ask for reviews. But, I find that it would be much appreciated if you lent me a few seconds of your time to give me your thoughts on the latest installment. So, you can tell me things I might like to improve upon, things I'm doing a good job on, etc. I'll pretty much welcome near anything. After all this, I'd have to guarantee you'll have something to say. Now, back to TMTW…! I promise you won't be disappointed.
**********
The Mind Traps Within
By: Kat
Chapter 3: Demons of Hellfire
X placidly leveled his gaze at the cool surface of the mirror. His quarters were dimmed, only letting a marginal amount of natural light seep in through the slanted blinds. The tranquil atmosphere did not match the Hunter's mood as one might expect, though.
Sleep was not a likely option; X had tried to no avail. He didn't care it was mid-morning; he wouldn't care if there were a full-fledged party complete with lights and blaring music in the next room. He felt drained of all energy and spirit, though he couldn't explain it. On the other hand…
X peered hardly at his double in the smooth surface. Shadows played across his face as he saw his own eyes narrow contemptuously. Slowly, he traced the contours of his face in the reflection.
Anything would do. One change was all he needed. One marking factor that would let others know of the things he had been through, the torture he had endured over these past few years. Something to prove it hadn't been a dream, or rather, a nightmare.
Letting go a small sigh, he lightly traced a line down the side of his face with his finger. Nothing. The same lines, same shadows, same curves. On the surface it was as if he hadn't aged a day.
X tilted his head downward and looked at his hands. Perhaps a dream world would be preferable than this existence in which he lived. It wasn't fair! Why should he and so many others have to pay the price of their freedom to fight a seemingly never-ending battle? One they did nothing to cause?
X shook his head in an attempt to clear the jumbled thoughts that were cascading through his head. Looking back to the mirror, he was stunned to see the haggard expression he wore. Slumping into his chair, the weariness seemed to wash over his face. Lines etched themselves into the corners of his eyes and the under-eye shadows deepened. The physical change was immediate, and the X everyone thought they knew no longer existed. X frowned dolefully. Few, if any, truly did know the Hunter anymore.
Staring at his now gaunt face, X nearly laughed. He was getting good, oh too good at this. He played his part almost too well. Truly, it seemed he was just an actor in an all too realistic play. Unfortunately, his performance was becoming less and less true to the role, and he knew his little façade was failing. The reality within was threatening to break the surface and destroy the character he had so desperately strived to create. He had pieced together the person he thought—he knew—he used to be and filled the gaps to create the ideal X, one who didn't raise any suspicion. Just put together a plausible picture and no one had reason to believe anything else. Why should they? What would their precious little redeemer of morality X have to hide?
Today had been a perfect example of his crumbling public image. He was swinging back-and-forth on an emotional teeter-totter and his control was slipping away with each rebound. It must have appeared their commander was having a hell of a time deciding just what mood he was in. Today, the trouble's source had struck him with no warning.
When he had seen Whiplash lying nearly helpless on the harsh surface of the blood smeared platform, it had triggered a massive upheaval of repressed memories. The conglomeration of images and recollections burned like fire in his veins and threatened to overwhelm him. Quickly he had jumped to rescue the struggling Hunter and attempted to ignore the memories that had been triggered. The success had helped the pain subside to a dulled but still painful throb. That was why he had fled to his quarters after the simulation and the unit's little discussion, avoiding anyone in case he completely broke down. That was why he was sitting miserably watching the past few years finally take their rightful place.
X closed his eyes and dug the heel of his palm into his forehead. They were back. The memories he had struggled to keep buried had arisen once again. The darkness edged closer, a veil of chaos that could not be contained.
X scrunched his face up in a grimace and dug his nails into his palms. He didn't want to remember. Slowly, images formed on his eyelids while sensations forgotten brushed his body like jolting tendrils, bringing memoirs of a painful history he'd rather soon disregard. The straining fights, the excruciating pain that flooded his body, the screams of wounded and those that hunted them down in bloodthirsty lust—the victims of the Mavericks. But they weren't the only ones.
A flash like lightning flared on his closed lids. The road. The highway. Cars flew past with screaming, frenzied people running every which way. Blood was everywhere. Its putrid smell invaded his senses and made him gag. The liquid gleamed sickly on the devastated street and fires blazed in their untamed glory. He jumped and dodged, a rookie Hunter, unversed in the ways of chaos and terror, soon to be given a rude awakening to the dreadful plight and circle of anarchy the world was destined to bear until its final doomsday.
Another flash.
His first mission as a Maverick Hunter against one of the eight Maverick generals. Chill Penguin. The once jolly ex-Hunter turned, now to fight on the opposing side, doomed for failure. Still unsure, X edged his way through, unknowing of the surprise that would register when he came upon the first of one of Light's many wonders. The freezing cold nipped at his bare face as he slowly progressed through the frozen domain, finally to meet his first bitter taste of the life he was to further endure for a time no one thought would ever be needed. The highway was a warm-up compared to this. The hardships the world faced now were only a glimpse into the coming future.
Flash.
…
X saw Zero's ravaged torso lying on the ground in his "last" pose, the image in itself almost too painful to look at. Fluids leaked and severed circuits sparked from the torn half of the esteemed Hunter, who was probably under inconceivable pain.
"Not again," he wheezed. Even approaching death, the proud Hunter would not cry. Reaching a hand towards Zero, X almost touched the scarred armor that was warped from the explosion.
"Zero…" He watched helplessly as the last breath left the red Hunter's body in a painful exhale. The Hunter's spirit left fleetingly, only to return six months later.
X's arms shook while the images that were almost too clear kept coming. "Why are you making me watch this?" he moaned feebly.
The leering visage of Maverick after Maverick flew past: Chill, Boomer, Overdrive, followed by even more, all deaths he had caused. They circled, intermingling with nameless faces of those he had seen fall to him and his X-Buster. He heard and saw screams of agony from multitudes upon multitudes, every yell, every breath taken by them causing him to recoil.
The images flickered in and out of existence in his mind's eye, replaced over and over with yet another, faster and faster. Sigma in each of his different forms, the same sneering face with every rebirth. The images overpowered X and he slid to the floor onto weakened knees, his body shaking violently.
"Stop-stop-stop," he murmured, his voice cracking more with each repetition. He gripped his head between twitching and trembling hands. More tableaus blazed into his consciousness as the pain grew to an unbearable point. It seared through his veins and he felt as if it were going to eat through him from the inside out. "Just STOP!"
Silence.
Pausing at first, X pulled himself onto the chair with trembling arms and warily opened his eyes. Once again, he had returned to his room, back to the familiar. In a huff, he let out the breath he had unknowingly been holding.
He sat unmoving in the blissful silence for seconds that stretched an eternity. Slowly, the aquamarine-eyed Hunter took in a much-needed breath in a shaky gasp. Thankfully, he shut his eyes and let his chin touch his chest in utter exhaustion.
X…X jerked his head up. "Nononono—Now I'm hearing things?!" he exclaimed breathlessly.
X… This is your memory. I am your memory, your past, your present, and soon to be the end of your future.
The Hunter raised his chin slowly, eyes widening in pure disbelief.
"What?" he hissed as his breath was sucked out of him. Suddenly, he shot out of his chair in surprise as he heard an abrupt explosion. X couldn't be sure if it was real or only in his head, but he almost wished the former.
The azure Hunter began hearing ragged, choking gasps, which enveloped him from all sides. He spun around to try and find what was causing the haunting noise. Empty space greeted him.
"What the…" X dropped off. "What's going on?" he whispered, fear tingeing his voice.
Closing his eyes, X groped backward blindly and latched onto the chair. As he pulled himself gradually down onto the seat, the Hunter's body began to tremble vaguely. With eyes still shut, X gripped his left arm above the elbow with a shuddering right, trying to stop the cursed shaking.
"This is like a d-damn Halloween m-movie," he said with faintly chattering teeth, attempting to fight the bitter cold that he felt but knew didn't exist. The voice seemed to speak Death itself and it frightened X more and more with each passing moment.
Dreading whatever was next, X sat in shaky and troubled silence. He didn't have to wait long.
A voice like crackling leaves dried by wind rattled in X's head.
"You shall…never win…never…have…"X sat straight in his chair to face the mirror, slowly opening his eyes in fear.
I recognize that voice…The voice cackled roughly and ended in a series of short stuttering coughs.
Oh my god…"No…" he begged. His eyes focused on the mirror that no longer showed his image, but another's. Another who was not supposed to be here and defied all logic. It was improbable, impossible. He met the stranger's gaze. Glowing ruby, purely demonic eyes dug into the back of his skull from behind an unrevealing but menacing shield of fury.
"X… I will haunt you until the day you DIE!" Vile screamed painstakingly. The Hunter's body jerked agonizingly with every word.
The demon's body shook uncontrollably while open wounds still bled out, its remaining arm's hand clenching into a tight fist. The seemingly reborn Vile began making a hissing noise like a threatened cat and spoke his final words.
"I…will haunt you…X…"
The impending explosions whine began building as Vile's fusion tank began a total overload. He simply glared at X mercilessly, causing the Hunter to cringe as the blood-red oval slits dug themselves like daggers into his skull.
X squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed his head between his hands, his body bent over. He clenched his teeth together painfully, listening to the scream quickly build. Helplessly, he shook his head back and forth, as if his denial would stop the blinding white terror from coursing through his body.
"No, no, NO!" he shouted over the unbearable screech that was almost at its peak. He stopped suddenly as he came to a conclusion in his troubled mind. X's body began shaking again, now not from fear, but from rage. Releasing his unforgiving grasp around his skull, he deliberately raised his head and stared down the seemingly undead Maverick, soon to be silenced for a second, or perhaps third time. He would not let him win again. X had won physically, yes, but mentally, emotionally? No, the Maverick would not prevail.
Body tense, X slowly stood up from his chair, his hands clenched into fists. X was no longer in control; rather, something of a primal nature, something each and every one of us holds inside that waits for the right moment to unleash its hell-born wrath. With muscles tight, the Hunter raised his fist, pulled back, and let fly with unbridled fury, a pained scream of primal rage released from within his shuddering chest.
Cracks splintered out from where his fist made its mark, shattering the demon from beyond's already wrecked image. Vile's torn figure disappeared rapidly, revealing the glittering shards of broken mirror, cutting X's startling image into jagged pieces.
X returned and gazed on in openmouthed shock, the past few seconds finally registering to his muddled mind. Slowly, the Hunter pulled his fist back and stared at the torn knuckles, then to their receiving end. His face drained slightly of color as his already weakened knees buckled.
X collapsed into his chair as he inwardly reviewed the scene that had transpired. Disbelief reigned in his mind but he knew it to be the truth. The tortured Hunter brought his knees up to his chest and stared blankly ahead over the tops of them, a bit of his slightly disheveled hair falling into his eyes. Slowly, he brought his head down to rest. He sat alone, silent, the rest of the world unawares to the violent and distressing inner struggle that had taken place in their acclaimed champion.
No tears. No emotion.
Just silence.
**********
Kat gazed at the ceiling with an expressionless face while an anxiety-ridden Desiree tapped her fingers on the table. Quiet chatter and clinking glasses filled the background of the busy café as waiters and waitresses flew hurriedly between tables taking orders. Desiree looked at her watch, which even though she did not need it, wore it to decrease suspicion. The latest Uprising did not bode well with many people, and Reploid prejudice now was higher than it had been for quite some time.
"Where is he? It's 12:50! He's never this late. Something," she huffed, "must have happened during that training exercise. I'm going to route a call through to HQ." She began to rise, presumably to go to a private place and send a message on her wristcomm.
Kat looked down from the ceiling in alarm, her previously blank face finally registering some awareness to the goings-on around her. "No you're not! He'll be here. Besides, they would let us know if something bad happened. It's only a training simulation."
"But what if he was knocked unconscious and he didn't tell them he was supposed to meet us! I… You know what? You're right. I should just relax, shouldn't I?" sighed Desiree warily. She took in a slow, deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves.
"Yes, you should," Kat agreed halfheartedly with a nod of her head but didn't bother to elaborate.
Peering at Kat curiously, Desiree spread her palms on the table. "Aren't you going to say anything else?"
"What?" muttered Kat with slightly glazed eyes. Desiree poked Kat in the shoulder with her index finger, startling her out of her reverie.
"Are you alright? You're not acting yourself," asked Desiree with a bit of concern in her voice.
The Hunter shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe it's just that subcommander thing you mentioned earlier," shrugged Kat. She leaned back further and shrunk in her seat.
"No," Desiree said slowly, "that's not it. It doesn't seem that simple. What's on your mind?"
"Okay." Kat waved a hand. "Perhaps you're right, but it does have to do with that whole line of thought. I know there are others who have had more experience than me. Why not them?" Her voice had taken on a downcast tone.
Desiree peered at her in quiet dismay, mixed with another emotion Kat couldn't name. "Kat, you shouldn't doubt your abilities. Even if you haven't had that much experience, I know you have the capability to become a great leader. Plus," she added with a slight grin, "you have kick-ass fighting skills. Those Mavericks won't know what hit them. Literally."
"But—"
"Hi guys. Sorry I'm late." Whiplash strode toward their table nonchalantly, wearing a pair of worn black jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt that, although fairly loose, managed to show off his muscular figure. He slid in next to Kat and placed his arms on the table. "What's up?"
Desiree frowned at him and swept him head to toe with a steely-eyed gaze. "You're nearly half an hour late and you ask what's up? Where were you? You look exhausted."
Whiplash sighed wearily and put a hand behind his head. "I just got a little injury during the training exercise, that's all." He put out his arms and half-turned in his chair, first to the left, then the right. "See? All better."
"Little?!" exclaimed Desiree. "Nothing little would make you this late. Don't tell me you were in the Med Center this long?!"
Sitting back, he crossed his arms lazily over his torso. "What if I was? Really, it's no big deal."
Kat eyed both of the Hunters but didn't comment. Inwardly, she was vaguely smiling, even through her melancholy feelings. She had seen this routine performed again and again by the pair. One was constantly scolding the other for something they'd seemingly messed up. Kat had always gotten a kick out of watching the two try and one-up each other. She'd known both Desiree and Whiplash since only a few days after she had signed up with the Hunters. Back then, even they'd only known each other for about a week or two, but all of them had seemingly hit it off. Now the trio had become nearly inseparable and the best of friends. Kat had always thought herself lucky having found her own niche in the social structure so quickly, and friends with what she considered two of the best people you could find.
Desiree peered at Whiplash in disbelief. "That's it. You had better tell me what happened right now! I order you as a commanding officer. Now, spill!" she ordered boldly.
"Fine," huffed Whiplash heatedly. "X decided to do a reenactment of the X-Hunters first attack. You know, at the supposedly abandoned reploid factory?"
Desiree tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, but didn't speak. She waved at him to continue.
"Well," he went on, "remember that big-ass mechaniroid the X-Hunters decided to leave as a nice surprise? The damn thing walloped me in the side with its mace-hand and I flew for a good distance. So, I ended up with a big gash in my side and I spent a few hours in the Med Center with the ever-sociable Blaze. End of story. Happy?"
"Yes, I am," Desiree replied with a genuine note of relief in her voice. "I knew something happened during that simulation. You sure you're fine?"
"I'm sure," sighed Whiplash. "Blaze fixed me up pretty well. I'm just a little tired, that's all."
"Alright, alright." Desiree leaned back and put her hands behind her head. "I'm convinced. You gonna order anything?"
"Nah, I'm not hungry. You guys go ahead," Whiplash declined.
"We already ordered a few minutes ago, but thanks for the go-ahead," smiled Desiree slyly.
Whiplash grinned. "Figures." He turned his head and looked at Kat questioningly. "You're sure quiet. What's up?"
"It's nothing," muttered Kat glumly.
"We were talking about the new subcommander position for the 15th. The decision's announced tomorrow and I was saying earlier that it sounds as if she's a prime choice," offered Desiree.
"That's great! So why the long face?" asked Whiplash worriedly.
"I don't know. I'm just not sure I'd be able to handle the responsibility," Kat shrugged. Desiree looked at her oddly; the other Hunter was hiding something else.
Kat continued after a second. "It's a big job. People's lives would be in my hands."
Whiplash reached a hand out across the table and grasped one of the crestfallen Hunter's own. "Kat," he said slowly, "you'll be fine. Whatever happens I know you'll be alright."
"Again, it might not even be you," said Desiree. "But don't shy away from it if it is just because you're scared." She paused for a moment and twisted her face up in a slight grimace, as if recalling an unpleasant experience.
"Anyway, I may be a commander, but let's face it," sighed Desiree, "the 7th Unit isn't exactly top of the line. The 15th is. Your abilities probably already surpass mine. Either way, you're good to go."
Kat nodded slowly and looked at the two with a bit of relief filling her eyes. "Thank you, both. Believe it or not, that really helps…"
"No problem. But really, we're starting to sound kind of clichéd if you know what I mean," chuckled Whiplash jovially. Kat let out a nervous laugh.
"You're right. I'm getting hungry. I hope they're done soon," she said with newfound spirit.
Moments later, a waitress walked over, balancing two trays in her hands. "You guys ready?" she asked the trio of Hunters.
"Speak of the devil," laughed Desiree. "Yeah, we're ready. Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asked Whiplash again.
"I'm sure. Go ahead, guys. Dig in," he encouraged.
"Don't mind if I do," chuckled Desiree. The trio halted their conversation as the two females dove into their entrees.
"Hungry, aren't we?" smirked Whiplash. Desiree and Kat grinned at him but continued eating. They sat silent in the relaxed chatter of the little café, not needing to speak to feel at ease in each other's presence.
**********
People gathered in throngs in the observation center that was adjoined to the Rec Room. The chit chattering of voices grew to such an unbearable volume that you had to scream for a person two feet away to hear you. A thin transparent shield, which looked like ordinary glass, stretched an entire wall and reached from the ceiling to the floor. It allowed an unobstructed view of the Rec Room, and if necessary, had the unique attribute allowing it to be used as a view screen.
The almost infamous Crimson Hunter strode into the Rec Room at five minutes until 1600, military time. No one except the two opponents would be allowed inside because the holo-emitters would build them into the environment as well.
Immediately upon entering, he caught sight of the growing masses awaiting his and Flare's little bout. Narrowing his eyes, Zero almost snorted. None of them had anything better to do than watch two ferocious Hunters mercilessly try and slice each other up?
Actually, it didn't sound bad to him. Hell, during the American Civil War, civilians would sit around and have friggin' picnics, having a dandy old time, while their sons got their heads lopped off with swords and had bullets driven into their skulls. Now THAT was sick.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
Zero turned lazily, recognizing the ever-sneering tone. As expected, Flare stood with arms crossed, his weight on his right leg while he eyed the crowds warily.
"Don't they have anything better to do?" he remarked sarcastically with a vague wave of his white-gloved hand.
Zero grinned lopsidedly. "I was wondering the same thing." When it came to mindset, the two Hunters weren't very different.
The commander of the 15th half smiled, which was about as close as he normally got. "What say we get this show moving?"
"Yeah, the greatest show on Earth, eh?" drawled Zero. "Remember, I'm not going to go easy on your pretty Hunter behind."
Flare looked at him with a level gaze, with eyes surprisingly removed of emotion. "I wasn't planning on it, either."
Inwardly stunned at the bluntness expressed, Zero raised his eyebrows in mock contemplation. "Cocky for someone who hasn't had practically any real battle experience."
"I've had enough, whatever your definition of real is," Flare responded, his clipped tone not inviting any more banter between the two.
Fine, thought Zero hotly. Two can play at this game.
"Alright then. Before we have our little duel of the ages, I propose we add a little spice to the mix." Zero paused hesitantly for show.
"I'm listening," prodded Flare exasperatedly.
Zero threw out his first sentence conspiratorially with a wave of his arm and a flick of his wrist. "How about we have two Maverick Generals pay us a visit? Then we can see who will prevail… Provided both of us make it out of the initial battle," he finished with half-lidded eyes, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Don't worry. I'll be there when you finish," Flare shot arrogantly.
The Crimson Hunter narrowed his eyes as he smoothly pulled the hilt of his saber out of its recharge pack. He'd had enough. Expertly, he twirled the handle with a roll of his wrist and flicked the beam on.
"We'll see about that," he muttered darkly. "Computer, bring up program Zero-1-12 and standby." He grinned slyly. "No safeties."
"Are you sure you wish to disengage safety protocols?" the computer chirped.
"Of course," answered Zero with a graceful wave of his saber.
Flare turned his head and glanced sideways at Zero. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?"
"Scared?" chuckled Zero. Besides his enjoyment of the Hunter's reaction, his face betrayed a glint of malice that Flare had no trouble recognizing himself.
"No way," Flare snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously. In a blur, he yanked out his own saber and lit it. His eyes became two sunken obsidian disks as he held it near his face, the shadows not only created by the saber's mere presence; the saber itself was black. Its peculiar color always caught Zero off guard no matter how many times he might have seen it.
"Tell me, where'd you get that saber? I'm not sure I've ever seen that model anywhere else," he asked quizzically, not waiting any longer.
The other Hunter pulled the saber down from near his face and noticeably tightened his grip. Flare's eyes darkened a shade and he waited several moments in answering. "I don't know. I've had it ever since I was activated. Why?" Zero noticed Flare had become a bit edgy just from the tone in his voice, and his saber occupied arm twitched ever so slightly. It wouldn't have been noticed by anyone without a trained eye.
"Just interested, that's all," Zero shrugged visibly, covering his surprise from the other's reply and reaction. It was extremely odd for a reploid to possess a weapon upon activation anymore. Normally they were outfitted later, unless they were made for a specific militaristic purpose. Even then, that usually meant they were made from a single model, almost as drones, and Flare was certainly unique. And why was he so tense?
Filing away the information for future reference, he steadied himself and balanced his weight, his saber held diagonally across his body.
"Activate program," he said simply.
Walls slowly began to disappear as the landscape completely changed. The crowds inside the observation center finally quieted down and watched the transformation in awe.
Flare felt himself sink as his feet shifted slightly under him. Peering downward, he saw the sand creep up a bit around his boots.
"Wait—sand?"
The scarlet-hued Hunter merely stared, his eyes never wavering from the black and silver armored figure standing across from him.
"Where the hell are we?" Flare growled. His eyes scanned the bleak landscape, which was dotted with a couple of small industrial structures, one only a short distance away. He presumed they were some kind of storage facilities.
Zero let himself crack a slight smile. "You'll find out soon enough, believe me. Myself?" he chuckled. "I never had the chance to come here in person."
Flare growled deeply, not at all liking Zero's cryptic response. After several seconds of silence, he felt a soft swoosh of air blow at the back of his head. The Hunter felt his hair involuntarily stand on end, much to his dismay.
"They're here," stated Zero with cold inflection. Flare didn't need to be told; their presence was easily felt.
A large shadow passed over his body, clearly not humanoid in form. He slowly took in a breath and brought his saber close to his body. Feeling his senses heighten at the looming threat, his muscles tensed, ready at the slightest thought to fly into action.
Slowly, he turned to face the presumed dual threat. His eyes widened a bit, only seeing one Maverick.
"Damn," he muttered. Up, up went his eyes to finally discover the aerial force that had cast its shadow upon him.
"Double damn," he breathed again.
Both sets of the Mavericks' eyes were currently ignoring his presence and were rather fixed upon the figure behind him. The fragile silence stretched until the grounded Maverick finally spoke.
"Zero," it hissed. "But you're…"
"Dead. Yeah, I know. At least according to your time," Zero conceded, obviously already expecting their reaction.
The Maverick General grunted but said nothing else. It was clearly still confused. Flare knew he had seen these two before, but couldn't place them. But if Zero were dead when they were around…
"Where's X? And who's this?" The general spoke again and pointed a clawed appendage at Flare.
It was time for him to make his entrance. Flare took a short step forward. "X won't be joining us. And you don't need to know my name."
"Sure they do. Guys, meet Flare, commander of the 15th," Zero said candidly.
Flare whipped his head around and shot the other a look of intense irritation. Zero merely smiled at him, his eyes twinkling with dangerous intent.
"Now that you know our names, how 'bout you introduce yourselves for the sake of my friend here?" the grinning Hunter asked calmly. Flare rolled his eyes and slid his saber back into its slot; he always had his Buster. What game was Zero playing?
The Maverick drew himself to his full height, which gave him about a foot of clearance over Flare's head.
"I," he proudly proclaimed, "am Overdrive Ostrich." He waved an outstretched arm at the airborne Maverick who so far had been silent.
"This is—"
"Morph Moth," the other spat, finishing for his comrade. Its large wings flapped slowly in the air, glittering in the desert sun.
It shot an angry look at its comrade. "Learn to keep you mouth shut some day and stop this senseless chatter. We should be at each other's throats by now." It paused and turned its head toward the Hunters. "I have one question, though."
Zero tilted his head impatiently. Quickly, it continued as to not incur the Hunter's wrath. "Why, or how, I should ask, am I here?" It waved an outstretched hand at the dreary scenery of Overdrive's base.
"Easy," smiled Zero smugly. He took no notice of the "how" and rather answered the "why" instead. "To try and even the odds." He pointed two fingers, one at each of the Mavericks. "You're merely here for a warm-up."
"What?!" screeched Morph. "I am a Maverick General! I will not be used as some toy. We are here to make sure humans never again rule us on this miserable planet! And you, oh great one, shall learn of your mistake! The Mavericks are strong and shall obliterate those unworthy, as you'll soon find out!"
Zero blatantly ignored the Maverick's ranting and instead directed his conversation at Flare. "Who do you want?"
"Huh?" Flare asked, confused at the sudden change, and turned sideways to peer at the Hunter but still keep an eye on the Mavericks.
"Whatever. I'll go with Overdrive then." Zero pointed is saber at the Maverick, who glared at him in clear contempt.
"Gladly," Overdrive responded and bent his legs readily. The edged knee armor protruded at a dangerous angle, certain to impale anyone who got in his way.
Morph Moth cackled quietly, examining Flare. "You? You're no match for one such as I. Prepare to be retired!"
Flare looked at Morph disgustedly. Were they all this self-righteous? If so, they really needed a reality check.
"Not today, you damned butterfly," he shot at the aerial Maverick.
A strangled cry rose in the moth's throat. "Cocky Hunter! I may not seem threatening, but you ain't-seen-nothin'-yet!" it screamed savagely. Instantaneously, the Maverick dove with mind-boggling speed toward the Hunter's head.
Relying on reflex alone, Flare jumped in a spin with help from his dash thrusters away from the frenzied reploid. One of the Maverick's thick Titanium-X plated wings still managed to come into contact with Flare's shoulder armor and metal grated on metal in a piercing shriek. It knocked him out of his rotation midair and he stumbled upon return to the ground. Transferring the momentum into a roll, the Hunter was able to smoothly come out of it and stand up, suffering no injury.
Morph rose up from near the ground and laughed, its whole body shaking. "See? You can't even stop me from scratching your armor! This is child's play!"
Instead of granting the Maverick a response, Flare pulled his still lit saber back out in one fluid motion.
Morph Moth crossed its arms, its wings still working to keep the Maverick airborne. "Did I hurt the Hunter's feelings? Aw, boo-hoo."
Flare snorted. "Shut up and fight already. I'm not here to fool around."
"Ah, he does bite!" exclaimed Morph. It spread its arms wide. "Playtime's over, Hunter. Get ready."
"Yeah, yeah," murmured Flare. The Maverick's eyes narrowed promptly. All joking was pushed aside in that one, solitary movement.
Morph dove yet again, the same as before. Flare immediately jumped backward to avoid collision, but realized that was exactly what the Maverick had wanted.
Before turning into the true meaning of scrap metal from slamming headfirst into the ground, Morph Moth pulled up and came straight at the Flare, speeding a mere two feet above the ground. Flare had barely had time to drop to the ground flat on his stomach when he felt the huge gust of air blow over him. If he'd been any slower, he would have had the reploid hit him in the midsection at a good 60 or plus kilometers per hour.
The Maverick halted a few meters past Flare's body and swung around 180 degrees. It tilted its head. "Figures."
Flare jumped to his feet. "What!?" he practically screamed, his very little patience easily running out.
Now it seemed as if Morph were the calm one. "That little maneuver I pulled would have severely debilitated me too. I tried it out to test you. You are a commander, so if you couldn't dodge that, the Hunters are hiring poor help these days," it snickered.
The Hunter shook his head violently. Suddenly, he dash jumped straight at Morph without warning, his deathly black saber held out in front of his body. Morph Moth veered left but was too slow in contrast to the result of its little trick on Flare, probably from surprise at the spontaneous movement. Flare's saber dug into its left arm as it tried to move out of the way, cutting a deep diagonal slash into the Maverick's limb.
Morph Moth screeched out in pain and grasped the bleeding arm tightly with its opposing hand. Flare's mouth curved up ever so slightly into a malevolent smile.
"Do you ever shut up?" he said, quiet yet threatening, his tone demanding you to hold onto his every word. His face was turned from annoyance and mild disgust to an extremely self-satisfied demeanor and pure, undisguised hatred, completely beyond anything he normally exhibited.
Morph Moth's eyes widened slightly and he peered at the deadly saber and its owner in alarm. Blood slowly trickled over its gauntleted hand but Morph took no notice. "You're different than the rest of them, aren't you?" it said uneasily. "No one else would…" The Maverick was unable to finish the sentence.
"You're right," Flare said. He spun his saber in an intricate pattern and proceeded to jam it into the sand like swords of old. With head tilted downward, he peered at the Maverick. "I'm the one who will make you feel excruciating pain beyond your imagining. And I'm not going to lose."
At the Hunter's last declaration, a flicker of rage and a bit of defiance flared up in the Maverick's eyes. "Cocky," it muttered. "Cocky, cocky, cocky Hunter. For all your talk, I don't think you have the guts to kill me." Flare was too enraged and intense in his craze to notice Morph was merely pushing his buttons. Behind his guise of superiority, the Maverick was withholding fear and trepidation that could easily be read by simply looking into its eyes.
No matter. Flare took the words at face value.
"Come and get me," he challenged viciously, his words taking on a distinctive bite.
Morph yowled and shot straight up in the air, settling at about 40 feet. "I've got a surprise for you, Hunter!" it screamed. The Maverick began swooping back and forth over Flare. Flare sheathed his saber and instead trained his Buster onto Morph, which he proceeded to use to fire a level two greenish ball of plasma. It streaked toward the Maverick and caught it dead center in the stomach. Morph coughed lightly but continued its odd aerial pattern.
"What the hell are you doing?" screamed Flare. "This ain't the Nutcracker!"
Then the Hunter noticed the glittering clouds falling steadily to Earth, emanating from the giant moth.
"Great," the crazed Hunter muttered. "You trying to sprinkle frickin' fairy dust on me? That's just great!" he yelled up to the Maverick.
With a cry, he brought up his Buster and fired a fully charged plasma burst that crackled and spit tremendous plasmic energy. His accuracy once again was perfect and the blast enveloped Morph Moth in white fire, followed closely by a large concussive blast. The light died away to reveal the Maverick slightly scarred but still fully operational. Morph, of all things, giggled.
"Ah, ah, ah, Hunter! Don't mock what you do not understand!" Simultaneously, it pointed a finger at Flare, and then continued to open its entire hand and make a sweeping gesture at the glittering dust that was just about to come into contact with him.
"Eh?" Flare looked up as the clouds descended. All of the sudden his whole body felt as if it were on fire as tiny jolts of electricity stung at him from all around. He groaned agonizingly under the torture, his body twitching and convulsing under the hundreds upon thousands of pinpricks. He brushed at the dust with a heavy arm, attempting to no avail to clear the dust away. Flare activated his dash systems and shot through and out of the golden cloud. Once outside, he collapsed to his hands and knees and gasped heavily while his body still trembled, though unsubjected to the fiery powder-like substance.
"Like it?" cackled Morph Moth. "Nanobots. As you know, we carry them in our bloodstream. I happen to produce a special type, breed if you will, that are separated and stored. Once released, they're specially designed to produce electrical discharges at will. Handy, no?"
Flare swore under his breath and pushed himself slowly to his feet. "Nice trick. But I have a few of my own to deal." He turned and eyed the small dome-shaped building that was a short distance away as a plan slowly formed in his mind.
"Catch me if you can," Flare called over his shoulder. He mentally disengaged the safety protocols on his dash boots and suddenly shot straight toward the structure's open entrance, the wind whipping through his exposed blonde hair. Morph audibly cursed and followed the Hunter, one to victory, the other to the always bitter agony of defeat.
**********
Zero leaped out of the way to avoid an incoming Sonic Slicer, care of Overdrive. He hadn't remembered that the Maverick formed the darn things from inside his mouth, or more specifically, somewhere in the throat region. Interesting.
Overdrive sped toward him, his pointed knee armor gleaming in the desert sun. Zero managed a jump over the ostrich's head with a little push from his dash thrusters and landed gracefully behind the Maverick. His saber moved effortlessly through the dry air as he whipped around and brought it up to where he projected it should come into contact with the Maverick's arm. Instead he found Overdrive glaring at him in the face, who brought up his likewise edged elbow armor to block the blade. The saber ate through the armor and the protrusion fell deftly to the ground in between the two opponents.
Overdrive made a sound somewhere between a squawk and a growl deep in his throat. Zero, not missing the opening, slashed with his saber at the Maverick's midsection, where it should have separated it into two even sections. Overdrive saw the saber coming before it contacted and bounded backwards, the strength in his legs a definite advantage in this fight's swift and breakneck pace. He hopped into the air and shot a Sonic Slicer once again at Zero who sidestepped it seemingly without moving.
The Hunter dashed straight at Overdrive with his saber held horizontally in front of him. Overdrive easily jumped over the Hunter to avoid collision, but that's exactly what Zero had expected. The Hunter abruptly stopped and back flipped into the air with his saber held close to his body, thus becoming a spinning mortal weapon. Whirling through the air and landing catlike, Zero knew he hadn't managed to connect with the Maverick. Whipping around, he came face to face with a spinning crescent of metal. It was too late; he couldn't do anything to stop it.
The slicer drove itself into his unarmored torso and he bit back a scream of agony. His chest heaved while he tried to take in a breath, fighting the haze that temporarily clouded his vision. He quickly brought his hand up to grasp onto the thin yet deadly curve of metal. With no pause, he tore the bloodied weapon out of his body, bringing another wave of excruciating pain. The nanobots in his blood stream would hopefully seal off the wound quickly; there was no way he could fight with the slicer sticking out of his body.
Zero whipped down the blade into the sand, one end still covered in his own blood. Overdrive Ostrich squawked in triumph, clearly proud of his achievement. The Hunter shook his head slightly.
"The battle's far from over, bird," he said.
Overdrive tilted his head. "We'll see about that, Zero."
It was still painful to move for the Hunter, but manageable. A strong-willed Zero dashed toward Overdrive once again, this time with his saber held back next to his body. The Maverick opened his mouth and fired a Sonic Slicer straight at the Hunter, but Zero whipped his saber up and sliced the blade right in half. Overdrive appeared slightly surprised and hastily ran to the left. Zero altered his course and followed the Maverick. Seeing the futility of his plan, Overdrive stopped and leaped straight up into the air. The Hunter passed right under, not expecting the sudden change of plans.
Overdrive opened his mouth. Out came a spread of Sonic Slicers that flew across the sky, hovered for a moment, and streaked toward the ground like lightning. Zero just happened to be in the path of an incoming blade, but managed to hop out of the way in time. The Maverick had meanwhile sprinted away from the Hunter while he was distracted and managed to open a fairly good distance between the two.
Both Hunter and Maverick glared at each other across the golden sands, neither moving for several moments. Electricity almost visibly sparked between their gazes. And then Zero moved.
Not dashing but running, the Hunter streaked toward Overdrive, saber out and held with an iron grip. Overdrive fired a Sonic Slicer, then another, followed by yet another, right into the path of the Hunter. None of them touched.
When Zero was nearly upon him, the Maverick jumped backward with a bound from his powerful legs.
He paused.
The thing that confused Overdrive was this; Zero was smiling. The grinning demon Hunter sprung high into the air and pointed his blade downward at Overdrive.
The Maverick realized his mistake.
The tables had turned. Now, it was the Maverick who was helpless to defend himself.
Zero's saber tore savagely into his gut and sliced all the way through his entire body. After several seconds of torture, the Hunter yanked his blade out of the Maverick's body with a deadened expression spread across his face. A shocked Overdrive fell backward soundlessly and hit the ground, the sands cushioning his impact. His eyes widened. Something had pierced his body from underneath, shoving itself right into his fusion tank.
Zero grinned cruelly. Zero grinned, for it was the blade. The same blade that the Maverick had used to impale the Hunter. The same blade still covered with his blood. The Hunter dash jumped backward with the same ruthless smile plastered on his face, his eyes mocking, laughing at the sight of the ill-fated Maverick.
Overdrive merely stared at the sky with glazed eyes for his final moments of life. Suddenly, an explosion engulfed his entire body in fire. Zero had to cover his eyes with an arm to shield his eyes from the flood of light and flying machinery. All that remained after the smoke cleared was small pieces of indefinable shrapnel.
Zero walked with a slow, purposeful stride toward the wreckage and deftly picked up a small curve of glinting metal out of the sand. It was the Sonic Slicer. He traced the curves with his fingers and felt the metal cut into his skin through his gauntlet gloves. Looking at the blood seep up to cover his fingers, he tossed the blade back into the fiery debris and turned slowly. With a slight smile, he looked toward where Flare and Morph had been. There was no sign of them, but Zero was sure one of them would appear soon enough. Eyeing the structure near their last position, his grin widened and he smeared the blood onto a section of his unarmored leg.
Yes. He would wait.
**********
Commander Flare, 15th Unit, Maverick Hunters, was having the time of his life. He smirked as he heard Morph curse as he entered the small building. The Hunter was currently hiding behind a large metallic crate, and was well concealed from the Maverick's gaze. He'd already built a charge up in his Buster and was itching for the opportunity to throw it right in Morph's face.
Looking around, the Hunter realized his conjecture had been correct. He was slowly remembering bits and pieces of what he had read on the Second Uprising Maverick encounters. Overdrive Ostrich's base had housed a large nuclear missile, which X had disposed of on his mission several years previous. And if it were a missile silo, it surely would have some nice toys to play with, wouldn't it? But, he wanted to have some of his own fun first.
An explosion sounded to his right, startling the Hunter. He didn't recall that Morph Moth had a Buster of any kind, so what in the world was he using? He shook his head. He'd waited long enough.
Flare jumped onto the crate he had been hiding behind and raised his Buster. Maverick and Hunter spotted each other at the same time, but Flare was quicker to weapon. The giant plasma ball slammed into Morph and knocked the Maverick backward a few feet in the air. Amazingly, Morph didn't seem very fazed beyond that.
"Hunter, didn't you realize that it would take you more than your little Buster to knock me out of the sky?" Morph sighed. Quickly the Maverick brought its hands together out in front of its body.
Flare squinted at Morph, wondering what in the world it could possibly do to inflect any harm on him. Then another piece of information clicked.
The Hunter threw himself into the air just as a concentrated laser flew slammed into the spot where he had been standing moments earlier. It tore through the crate, sending pieces of jagged metal flew in every direction.
Once again, the Hunter switched his artillery, now back to his obsidian saber. Just as he was jumping onto another crate, a second laser struck the ground, just barely missing the Hunter. Flare quickly hopped from one crate or construct to the next, and was closing on the Maverick's position. Laser-beams followed him at every turn, and he couldn't pause at one place for more than a second. He swung his saber in front of his body and suddenly leaped straight at Morph, his blade a black dagger that matched his cruel intentions.
Morph moved out of the way of the Hunter's path in a split second, the saber barely missing his immense frame. Flare landed on another metallic crate that had been directly behind the Maverick and not wasting a moment, bounded once again at Morph. Flare discreetly formed his Buster in his open hand. The Maverick dodged again, and Flare landed again on another construct. Whipping around, the Hunter brought up his newly formed Buster and laughed out loud, a disturbing, wicked explosion, and a clear expression of his sinister strategy revealed.
"Say cheese!" he snarled slyly.
Another fully charged plasma burst left his Buster and impacted with full force upon the Maverick's body. Both he and Morph knew that the blast wouldn't do much by itself.
The plasma? Only a distraction.
With saber extended, Flare jumped at the aerial Maverick, his form a blur of movement. Slicing downward, the Hunter connected. Success.
He landed gently on the floor of the building and continued on to dash toward the entrance. Flare turned around to face the interior of the structure with an expression of pure yet sickening contentment. He was in time to see the Morph Moth strike the floor with a nauseating crunch. One solitary bleeding and sparking wing lay strewn, separated from the Maverick's crumpled frame. Morph struggled to rise, but slumped back to the cold concrete floor, defeated.
Flare grinned and raised his Buster, pointing it at a container aptly named "flammable."
"Bye bye," he murmured. The Hunter fired.
A huge, deafening explosion blew inside the building, triggering another. And another. Flare dashed away as the reactions grew even more deadly. And then, one giant detonation of crimson flame and shrapnel burst from the building, completely devastating the assembly.
Flare snickered and watched as the flames ate up the building's remains, the burning smell of plastics and metal oddly satisfying. A few small explosions ensued, but nothing extremely troubling. Flare smirked nastily, his plan carried out with all bells and whistles attached. He morphed his Buster back into his hand, its purpose completed.
The Hunter turned around unhurriedly, already having an idea of who would be waiting. A distance away stood Zero, his blonde ponytail whipping in the wind. They acknowledged each other with a nod, each sporting an ominous expression on his face. Zero grinned with dark, narrowed eyes, his demented smile reassuring Flare that the Hunter would be ready to continue. Flare wore no less of an unsettling look upon his face.
Neither was afraid. Neither was frightened by the manic craze that had taken control. They were too similar in certain aspects, too utterly alike. This similarity of each persona was and had always been destined to clash. Over and over, great powers had been at odds with each other in history, both causing horrible devastation to the other every time. This was their first test of power, of supremacy. Who would prevail?
They were ready. The Hunters stalked toward each other with a deliberate step, each knowing that this would have a very interesting outcome indeed.
**********
Commander Desiree narrowed her eyes in complete disbelief at the spectacle taking place in front of her eyes. The complete madness of this whole affair baffled her mind. She could not believe the pure ruthlessness that had been shown, the satisfaction in Zero and Flare's faces that betrayed the cruelty hidden beneath.
Zero had never been like this before. Sure, he had gotten caught up in battle, and his missions were taken out with precision and care in mind. But this sickening fulfillment he displayed was amazingly off-key. She couldn't believe this was the same Hunter she had seen in action for the past half year. Something odd was definitely going on.
And Flare. Well, she knew he could act a bit rebellious and the like, and had one nasty attitude at times, but once again, this wasn't the same person. It was almost impossible.
Perhaps it was their close proximity. Maybe the pure fighting spirit radiating from each Hunter was instilling this hostile face-off of might against might. She couldn't be sure. But one thing she knew was this; everyone watching was seeing a new side of two of the most remarkable Hunters in the service. Only X seemed any match for them at this time, at this degree of aggression. Perhaps not even him though, for he normally would not fight to the extent of his abilities unless he, for lack of a better term, completely snapped. Rarely was he to blow up at this level when unprovoked.
And now, the Hunters were walking toward each other, perhaps even ready to deal deathblows. Out of the corner of her eye, Desiree saw X standing in one of the far corners in shadow. But his expression no doubt mirrored hers. Right?
Actually…
X breathed a sigh and leaned back in his corner. He didn't feel like being around anyone in particular. Memory of earlier that day still remained crystal clear in his mind. And this entire thing going on with Zero and Flare was not helping. And as much as X knew something was bothering him, to say the least, he couldn't disregard the fact that something odd was going on with his colleague. Although X emanated a cool demeanor, he was watching every move made by Flare and Zero with a meticulous eye.
This was wrong. Everything about this whole competition seemed wrong. He saw it in their eyes, their actions, their personas.
X was worried. Very worried. And sooner or later, something would have to be done.
**********
Flaming embers burned within Zero's contrasting pale aqua eyes, beckoning Flare to make his move. Flare returned the Crimson Hunter's gaze with his own electricity charged chocolate-brown orbs.
Fire upon fire. Shadow to shadow. Veteran versus soldier.
The beginner of an era against the spawn of an unforeseeable future. Both born of two minds, yet a planned fate for each, utterly disregarded.
This was more than it seemed to be. It had been written. Destiny. Circumstance, the only difference.
Zero raised his legendary saber, Sigma's dying "gift" from the First Maverick Uprising to the victor, X. Flare followed suit, while his shadow saber's origin remained a mystery, even to its owner.
A low growl of a laugh sounded from deep in Zero's throat. Flare grinned devilishly in response, while his smoky eyes flickered in approval.
And as in the flip of a switch, it began. Zero's saber sliced downward at Flare's unarmored shoulder, right in between the joint connecting the ball and socket and the main body armor. The other Hunter brought up his own to deflect the attack, took a quick minuscule step to the left, pulled his saber back from Zero's, and swung it in a swift uppercut.
Within less than a second, the Hunter in red jumped backward and turned his saber horizontally to block the move. The sabers slammed into each other, conjuring the crackling sound of destructive energy. Both Hunters put all their might behind their blades, each trying to overpower the other. The angry sparks of plasma endured for several stretched seconds as Zero and Flare held their grip, neither willing to be the first to end the struggle.
Finally, the commander of the 15th tilted his head and moved his saber back with a roll from his wrist. The beam saber continued on in its counterclockwise motion though, as Flare knowingly flipped it back up and raised his arm, holding the blade high above his head. Grasping the hilt with both hands, the Hunter let out a small cry as he hopped into the air and brought the blade down in full force at Zero's helmeted head.
Zero twirled 'round and stepped away, his ponytail following him in the breeze. He swung his saber up to meet Flare's, where it stopped his opponent's from completing its downward slash.
Flare grunted and put his full weight behind the saber, while Zero in turn anchored his feet in the sand and pushed upward with all his strength. Suddenly, the greenish blade gave way to its obsidian oppressor. Flare was startled, and all the power he put behind his saber was released from its bind. He stumbled, for he was unable to stop his forward momentum.
The Crimson Hunter delivered a jarring kick to the back of Flare's knees, causing the relatively new commander to tumble to the ground. Chuckling, Zero brought his saber down near the back of Flare's neck, so close that it seared the synthflesh underneath the thin covering that protected it.
The pinned Hunter's eyes edged to the right, not daring to move another muscle under Zero's intense scrutiny and close proximity of his beam saber. All of a sudden, Flare dropped onto his stomach and rolled, elevating one leg slightly above the ground. One of his booted feet caught Zero's leg and forced him to stumble. He yowled in fury as one of his legs partially came out from under him.
Free from imprisonment, Flare grinned, jumped to his feet, and spun around with his saber out and held at waist level. The Hunter was so sure of himself he did not consider what his rash action might bring as a consequence.
He soon found that Zero had already regained his balance. Gripping his blade with two hands like a baseball bat, Zero pulled back and swung with all his might. The blades connected.
The bone-crushing impact sent the raven saber flying far from the reach of its owner. Flare watched helplessly as the blade flew through the dreary skies and landed on the tan sands, where it shone like an ebony beacon in a world of ethereal light.
Gathering his wits, he morphed his hand into the Buster, his last line of defense. But it was too late.
SA Class Hunter Zero rammed into his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. Dropping to his knees, he pinned Flare's Buster to the ground, and no matter how hard Flare tried, he could not raise it up enough to take aim.
Zero pressed his saber against the other Hunter's neck yet again. A single twitch would have been enough to slice into Flare's skin and send him to an early grave.
Flare slowly brought his gaze up to look into Zero's turquoise eyes. He blinked in surprise. Looking deep, as far as you could delve into the spirit, the essence of another, he saw what could only be described as pure lunacy held behind a thin, cracking wall of glass that was prepared to break at a moment's notice. But, the ability to look into the soul at that instant was not restricted only to Flare.
Zero gazed down and saw what he did not wish to see. Pulling himself back from the depths of Flare's being, he looked into the reflection of Flare's filmy, defiant stare, and saw…himself.
Their connection was interrupted as the thuds of incoming footfalls steadily approached. Zero looked up and blinked. His distant, misty, maniacal eyes cleared immediately back to tranquil pools of water, completely conscious and self-aware. His mouth fell slightly open when he realized who greeted him.
X stood a few meters away with his Buster steadily trained on Zero. His clenched jaw muscles twitched, while his expression betrayed a quiet grief.
With a firm voice, X spoke. "Zero, back off. Slowly." He jerked his Buster up slightly, motioning for Zero to comply.
Zero looked behind X to see a few Hunters standing readily at the still open entrance to the Rec Room. They looked on in mild astonishment at the three great Hunters who were dealing with this odd predicament. Glancing down, Zero saw Flare openly glaring up at him, though the Hunter's demeanor had reverted back to his normal touchy self. Zero realized his saber was still practically pressed to Flare's neck, and his eyes slowly widened in realization.
He peered up at X once again. X shook his head dismally, but did not move his fire-ready Buster. "Zero…" The cannon's maw seemed to stare him in the face, while X's soft-spoken tone struck a cord somewhere deep inside.
The Crimson Hunter pulled his blade back from Flare's neck and sheathed it with no further ado. He gazed up at X pleadingly. "You didn't seriously think…" Zero let the question hang in the grainy air.
"I'm not sure what to think," X sighed with a shake of his head. He mentally fought off the conflicting voices screaming in his head on what, or whom, to believe.
Zero stood quickly and reached a hand down to Flare, who grudgingly accepted. Hopping up at first, Flare walked away and effortlessly snatched his obsidian saber up off the ground, which he proceeded to switch off and jam back into his armor attached recharge pack. He turned around lazily to face X and Zero while leaning on one leg and crossing his arms, back to the same pose he had assumed when he'd first entered for the face off.
Zero huffed in disbelief. "X, I can not believe you though I was going to kill him! That's absurd!" He furiously waved a hand at Flare, who showed no acknowledgement of having heard anything.
X appeared hurt at the harsh accusation. "I—"
"No, X," Zero cut him off, accompanied by a slash of his hand. "I don't want to hear it. I guess you can't even trust your own friends anymore, huh?"
With a sigh, Zero's tone softened ever so slightly. "I'm sorry. Just leave me alone for a bit, alright?" With a shake of his head, he began to stalk toward the exit. The Blue Bomber made no attempt to stop his friend, and merely stood with a dumbfounded expression on his face. The Hunters by the door eagerly separated for Zero to pass through unrestricted.
Flare watched the Hunter depart in silence. After a few delicate moments, he started to follow himself. As he passed X, the other Hunter reached out and grabbed him hard by the arm. X peered at him in the eyes with a searching look.
"Flare, what—"
"I'd rather not talk about it," interrupted Flare. He wrenched his arm free and strode out, making his own exit. X's shoulders slumped forward as if they held the weight of the world.
"Why?" murmured the Hunter as he morphed his Buster into a clenched fist. "Why…"
The whispering wind held no answers for him.
**********
Whiplash watched in incredulity as Zero, then Flare, marched out of the Rec Room, leaving his commander alone, looking as if he were ready to collapse. He turned to face Desiree and Kat.
"What's going on around here?" he exclaimed. Many did not hear his outburst, as a majority of the other Hunters were also loudly expressing their reactions to the display. Both female Hunters shrugged at the same time.
"Something odd is definitely going on in HQ lately," sighed Desiree. "People are acting strangely, as if something's going to jump out of the shadows and devour them on the spot. It makes no sense. There have been no attacks, nothing for them to base the uneasiness on." She paused grimly. "But it's there."
"This is not going to help the mood around here," agreed Kat. "And I'd love to know what's going on with our great commanders. X has been having mood swings up the wazoo, Zero's been acting mighty aggressive at times, and Flare… Well, he's just Flare. But something peculiar's going on with him too. Did you see the way he acted in there? Zero and him were savage. I couldn't believe it!"
Whiplash nodded. "I agree. Something IS going on. I just can't figure what."
The Commander of the 7th crossed her arms and leaned her head back. "I suppose we just keep an eye out and try to piece it together ourselves. I doubt we'll be getting any large newsflashes from the likes of them."
Kat opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a commanding voice coming in through the public announcement systems. All of the Hunters silenced immediately.
"Maverick Hunters, this is Dr. Cain. I've just received some interesting news that I'd like to share with you all. This will be broadcast throughout the building, so if you wish to see, I suggest you take a look. Cain out."
The shield in front of them flickered and suddenly focused. Displayed was a tall, middle-aged human male dressed in a business suit standing behind a large podium decorated with a large insignia. The corners of his eyes were etched with laugh marks, and his mildly wizened face appeared like one of a jovial personality underlain with a bit of solemnity for measure. The man cleared his throat.
"Humans and reploids across the world, I, New United Nations Representative Quentin Bailoff, am here to deliver news of a momentous occasion to be heard by all. Today, a contract of great importance was signed. This will change the lives of everyone on the planet, and I hope you welcome it with open arms." He cleared his throat once again and shuffled a few papers on the podium. Bailoff looked up and stared directly into the camera lens, his piercing green eyes shining with enthusiasm.
"Today, Project "Eurasia" has been reinstated, which was halted for the second time at the start of what has been dubbed as the Third Maverick Uprising. We are presently preparing to complete the artificial gravity device that will provide stability to the pioneering colonists who will hopefully settle the lunar orbital colony. The colony will soon be finished and have the ability to support both human and reploid life. This will be written in history books as one of the greatest endeavors of mankind!" A chorus of cheers and calls rang out in the crowds who were attending the conference. Bailoff raised his hands to signal them to quiet down. He continued.
"I will be leading the project, but I surely won't be attending to this alone. Also joining me will be two other representatives, who will provide me with their most essential input. They are AmeriCanadian Representative Matthew Jelken," he gestured to his right, "and Russian Representative Nikolai Sporskein." He then gestured to his left as well. "I will now allow them each a word." He stepped backward to make way for his associates.
Both men stepped toward the podium and stood side by side. Jelken, a relatively young man who appeared to be in his early thirties, spoke first. Again, this man was lighthearted and seemed at ease with the world around him. "This is a momentous occasion, and I could not have announced it better myself. Thank you, Representative." Bailoff bowed slightly in response. Jelken's accent clearly defined him as an American, probably of New England descent.
Jelken grinned and chuckled lightly. "I really don't have anything important to say that's not reiterating what my fellow colleague has already said, so I'll turn over the mike to Representative Sporskein." He waved an enthusiastic hand at the microphone. Sporskein nodded gratefully. His grizzly face was taut and had to work a bit to display a thin but genuine smile. "Let us work together for peace and harmony in both races, human and reploid!" he gruffly called. Applause pounded throughout the auditorium. He continued to speak. "We will always remember this day. Do not doubt our ability to finish what we have started. We will prevail! Let Eurasia live on!" He pumped an energetic fist into the air, which the audience took as their cue to start cheering. A quiet murmur rolled from tongue to tongue and solidified into one word. "Eurasia! Eurasia! Eurasia…!" The image promptly flicked off.
The Hunters murmured between themselves at the startling display. The Eurasia Project was projected to be the linking factor, a symbol of peace between the two nations of reploid and humankind. But, the start of the First Uprising had stopped the project at its earlier stages. Humans had newly acquired the ability to create orbital colonies that could support life in the early years of 2100. Technology had improved greatly over the last century, and was going to be used as a sign from the nations of the world to prove that a new era had descended upon the Earth. Thanks to Sigma and his cohorts though, Eurasia had again and again been stopped from completion.
The project had been restarted after the Second Uprising, but was once more halted at the onset of the Third Uprising. This was their third, perhaps final, chance to prove that reploid and human life could coexist peacefully in a completely contained and structured society. It was an amazing show of confidence for the NUN, or New United Nations, which had been created after when the original United Nations Council had disintegrated at the beginning of a brief but tumultuous World War III.
Commander Desiree shook her head. "Wow. That's big alright."
Kat grinned. "We might finally have found a way to calm the general anxiety between our cultures. Maybe people will finally take a breath and relax." She sighed thoughtfully. "Siggy might actually be gone. Too bad I missed the action."
"Believe me, it's not so bad," reassured Whiplash grimly. "We'd all be a whole lot better off. So, I sure hope you're right about Sigma." He took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. "But it won't help us to figure out what's going on in HQ."
"Right," muttered Desiree. Suddenly she smiled widely, causing her whole face to light up. "But let's forget about that! We should celebrate."
Desiree giggled childishly at a long forgotten thought. "It's time to pah-tay!"
Both of the other Hunters smiled at the commander's outburst.
"For Eurasia!" cheered Kat and Whiplash at the same time. Abruptly stopping, they glanced at each other simultaneously, and then burst out laughing.
For now, it was time for the Hunters to forget their worries and live in the moment. But truly, it was only the beginning of their troubles…
The demons of hellfire had been unleashed in more ways than one. And to stop them, an enigmatic puzzle of monstrous proportions was to be revealed, a twisting thread weaved into a tapestry revealing a plot far larger than the eye or mind could easily comprehend. Only chance was to tell if it could be unraveled. And even then…
Would it be too late?