Author's Note: I don't own MMX or much of anything. I just recently got my life back from the Humble Theatre Department…hell, I'm single, so even what I own isn't worth having, if you think about it…anyhoo, yeah, ask me if you're going to use my chars. So, now after a few short months…)
Chapter 15: But A Whimper
Night watched the world go by, so much quieter than it had used to. The tower had been abandoned since the street fighting began. Most buildings were abandoned since that last horrible week. The humans had moved to areas free of reploids, hoping for new, safer lives in Europe and the AmeriCanadian Alliance. Japan, Asia, Russia…there were probably less than a thousand humans left there, mainly those too stubborn to run and the few GDC forces trying to get them out. Asia was the reploid's world now. A strong of ghost metropolises, places of billions now occupied by a few million reploids, zealots to the cause. They're not even reploids anymore, Night thought. They're Mavericks…mindless killers. He'd fought them every day since the Great Awakening the week before. He'd killed more than he wished to remember. He remembered anyway: 47. The Hunters were far better equipped than their opponents, but numbers matched with insane zeal…it looked like a losing battle.
"How can a hundred reploids defeat millions of monsters…monsters with the faces of friends, children, lovers…Damn it, this can't be how the world ends!" He slammed his fist into the concrete rail, cracking it. He took a deep breath as he watched the hundreds of little fires through Neo Tokyo.
"Not with a bang, but a whimper…" Night turned, blades ready. With a sigh, he relaxed. X smiled in his quiet way, then leaned on the rail beside him. "T.S. Eliot…an old poet. We all have so much potential for beauty…but we choose…this." He waved a hand at the dead city. "We are the hollow men, the straw men…it's as if man and reploid were born without a soul…"
"I don't have time for riddles and philosophy, 'Father'." Night started to walk away, but X put a hand on his shoulder. His blue armor seemed nearly black in the near-total darkness. His eyes were calm, yet the light smile was still on his face.
"I know how it looks, Night, but this isn't the end. We'll find them and we'll put an end to Veritus. We'll stop Sig…" He faltered, releasing Night and running his hands through his now-white hair. "The program…it's still running inside of me. It's as if my own mind is sealed in the past." He sighed, turning to look out on the shadows. "Like I'm trapped in my sorrows…as if anything beyond those hard days never mattered…"
Night left without a word, his fists clenched.
"Shhtatus report, Doc…" Alia was drunk and she knew it. It was hard to get a reploid drunk, but it was harder to think at the moment. Lifesavor simply frowned and poured, frowned and poured, knowing that his brand of medicine was useless now.
"We've suffered only 2 casualties, surprisingly, and both of those were damage from enemy core reactions-"
"They're not the damned enemy! They're Mavericks." She kicked back another shot, drowning the warning message in her mind. As if she cared about the level of alcohol in her system. Her mind was her worst enemy lately and she wanted to hear it scream for a while.
"Maverick core reactions. Slate's men are too well trained to be beaten by the usual Zealot." There was a necessary moment of silence, in memory of their former UC or in acknowledging his role in the situation, neither of them knew. "Nearly 5,000 reploids have been neutralized by our forces, another 20,000 by combat with GDC forces, and 100,000 from bombings of their facilities and nests."
Alia sighed. "Pour." The glass filled. The glass emptied. "I wasn't talking about shhtatishtics…" She knew she didn't really have to slur, but the look it put on the Doc's face was worth it. "How's everyone dealing?"
The Doc sighed, taking a sip of his own barely-touched glass of wine. "It's a damnable situation. Depression, insomnia, nightmares…and that's just the technicians. Field troops…they're losing their grip. Honestly, I don't blame them. It's hell out there. Reploids…not even combat-made, but reploids no stronger than a human fight them like animals with bits of pipe or bare hands, trying to tear them apart…and they have to shoot them. They have to kill innocents every day. It's damnable. Just…damnable." He took another, larger sip, filling Alia's glass almost out of habit.
"And Night? How's he holding up?" Alia leaned back, swirling the brown liquid about, her mind racing despite itself. Everything he said was filed, logged, and cross-referenced. The drinks were more of a gesture than anything else. That's how I'm designed, she thought, the first smart blonde in history…
Lifesavor shook his head, his habitual frown deepening. "Better than some, but the emotions are getting to him…all of this is too much for him. Serrael's been avoiding him, or so the rumor mill informs me-"
"Rumor mill?" Alia couldn't help but laughed. "I wouldn't expect our humorless physician to listen to the grape vine…"
He shrugged. "People get talkative when you're putting their arms back on." He took another sip and continued. "Night's dealing with this in his usual manner, alone. No Serrael, no Sol, no Slate…you've been working non-stop. He's on his own, except…" He trailed off, suddenly aware of something on the ceiling.
Alia grunted, putting her glass on the table. She was suddenly sober and very aware. The way I'm designed…, she mused. "Except for X."
He just nodded, letting the silence returned. He could hear Alia swear under her breath, though he noticed more frustration than anger in her tone.
She stood up, stretching. "Figures. Gone for half a century, and the first thing he does is just into the fray. Dispensing justice with a smile on his face and a tear in his eye. And now he's making up for two decades worth of daddy issues?! Shit…how come…how come…" She felt the tears on her cheek before she knew she was crying. Lifesavor rose to offer some sort of comfort, but she just waved him off. "Go on…the patrols will be in soon." With a nod, he left, sparing a final glance in her direction. She was leaning back in her chair, her face in her hands. She almost seemed like the same old stressed Alia, if not for the small convulsions that shook her as she sobbed.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. "If you're not dying, get the fuck out. If you are, get the fuck to the Medical Bay…" She covered her face in her hands, hiding the emotion in her voice the best she could.
"You always had such a way with colorful language…you'd never expect it from that bright, smiling, beautiful young tech, but she could make a marine blush if wanted to…" X sighed with nostalgia, leaning on the door frame. Alia laughed through the tears, turning away from him.
"I haven't been bright since…I haven't smiled for a long time. I was never young. And beautiful…" She snorted. He walked over to her, leaning forward to rest on her shoulders. She shivered at the touch.
"Beautiful never began to describe it…you are my light, my reason to keep coming home…" X put his arms around her, but she pushed him aside, turning on him. The tears came anew, though her eyes burned with anger and pain.
"But it wasn't enough, was it? Even now, you wait a week before dragging yourself over here! Why? Because you thought fixing your fuck ups as a daddy was more important than fixing your fuck ups as a lover? Am I even on your fucking list?!"
X stood his ground against the fire in her eyes. He felt himself wanting to die for causing that pain, but he wouldn't look away. "I love you, Alia. Night has his own life, his own future. The world is too large and too dark for me to care about anymore. You are all I have, all I could ever hope for. You're all I want or need. It took me fifty years to fully understand how much time without you I could tolerate. I lost myself…I'm still lost. Please…" He held her again. This time, she didn't resist, though her arms hung limp at her sides. She felt so weak next to him, helpless, unable to look away. "Don't let me lose you…" They kissed, softly at first, then with a hunger neither of them knew they had. Alia wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into her, as if afraid he'd fly away. After a long moment, they paused, holding each other.
"Shut the door," she whispered. Wordlessly, he did. "Lock it." She heard the click, then smiled, as if the tears had never existed.
"Now…" She pushed him away from the door, letting her armor fade, a flash of pink in the dim light. "it's been fifty years…and I think you have a lifetime of making up to do..."
Tess hadn't signed up for this. Her Buster was charged and it felt warm on her arm, almost painfully so. She just gritted her teeth and kept moving. The techs had picked up life signs in the area. Now, she was stuck in the middle of nowhere, separated from the unit. She didn't recognize the streets anymore, the long shadows of empty buildings turning the street level into a pitch dark maze. That was one of the reasons she always stayed charged: it was a good source of light sometimes, and seeing in the dark could mean life or death down here.
"Tek, Rolly, come in…I'm warping home and leaving your asses a Buster short if you don't pick up this damn minute…" She hated the dark, hated enclosed spaces, and lately, she hated being alone. The comm didn't answer her and she swore under her breath. She barely heard the sound of something crunch behind her. She whirled and fired.
The Maverick never had a chance. Half of the word 'heretic' escaped his lips before he went up in a purple flame from a Super Charge to the chest. He went critical almost instantly, but the delay was enough so that she saw his face. That was the other reason she always stayed charged: They always woke up when they died, and no one should die slowly. The flash from the explosion lit the rest of the street. In the distance, she could make out a boarded-up building. She dashed there, worried that the Zealot might have had friends.
She made quick work of the makeshift barricade. A woman fired a magrifle at her face, but she moved just in time. Two children were huddled behind a counter. Their mother reloaded and waited, a terrible sort of calm in her eyes of someone sure that they would die protecting something.
"Don't worry, ma'am. I love kids. I used to work in a day care before…well, before all of this. I'm here to help."
The woman let the gun fall to her side, her face flushed with relief. They smiled at each other. Tess didn't notice the children gasp, but the mother had the rifle ready before she knew what was happened, turning to save her children. A flash of green filled her eyes and a faint breeze caressed her neck before Tess could react. A Zealot lay at her feet, inches from reaching her. A hole in its head had stopped it permanently. Rolly stood behind her, saber drawn. Rolly waved from the street, blowing imaginary smoke from his laser rifle. The mother pointed the rifle at Rolly's head and didn't look like she was going to relax again.
Tess took a deep breath, then removed her Buster, motioning for the others to disarm.
"We're friends here. Let's get you out of here. We can get you on a transport out of here by morning, but you've got to trust us…"
After a long while, the rifle clattered to the ground. They were all gone in a trail of light a few moments later. Tess hated the dark, but she kept going down. She knew what the light was worth to those trapped in the night.
(So, there's my next chapter. I know, I know. But it's hard to find time to write when you're OCD about acting and have to fill Peter O'Toole's shoes. Yeah, I was Henry II from The Lion in Winter. Hard ass work…In any case, sorry about always being so damn sporadic…not like I've got star power like Erico. I should be pushing my product.)