Chapter 46: December Flowers

            Signas sat down for the first time that night, letting out an exasperated breath as he turned his head to survey the scene behind him. It could only be called "progress" in the most general of terms, but at least it was something, and for that the Grand Commander was grateful. Hunter forces had fully reclaimed the building and had garrisoned what few Maverick prisoners they'd taken alive in the nearby Army complex, which was now semi-operational after the attack that had taken the whole place out of commission. Signas still had no communication with Alden Base, but he was told that would be the Mavericks' eventual destination. The Hunter general knew full well what would happen to the prisoners there, and even after what they had done it sent a shiver down his spine. Lambs led to the slaughter? More like wolves, Signas knew. But there was still something wrong about leading prisoners straight to their death without a trial. It wasn't that Signas minded so much the err in the justice system—he had evidence enough against these people, most of it decorating his blood-spattered armor—but he knew that other Reploids would be watching…and this wouldn't improve their views on humans very much.

            Signas had spent the last four hours coordinating the recovery effort, and the things he'd seen disgusted him. There were bodies everywhere, most of them Mavericks but too many were Hunters for the commander's liking. Included among the dead was Tiberius, an old friend that Signas somehow never thought could possibly die. Lifesaver was now in full charge of the overburdened, understaffed medical unit. The healer's last report had not done much to cheer Signas up—far too many Hunters were wounded far too badly. Army medics were being flown in to help and stabilized Hunters were being sent to the district hospital, but still with every passing minute another of Signas's soldiers slipped into the great beyond. He felt he now knew what hell was like.

            "It's not easy, is it?"

            Signas looked behind him to see Commander Zion trudging through the debris towards the cluster of rubble Signas was calling his base camp. Zion himself had forbade any of the commanders to enter the actual HQ until it had been completely swept by bomb squads, just in case Gravity Beetle had left them any more hidden surprises.

            "I've never been in an actual uprising," Signas admitted, smiling weakly. "It's trying…even an uprising as short as this one."

            "I joined early, in the first war," Zion said, sitting opposite Signas and stretching as long and hard as he could. "The first and fourth ones were the worst, if you want my opinion. Picture this scene right here, only everywhere. Sigma hasn't always confined himself to one city. While the Repliforce ravaged mainly one area, other Repliforce bases worldwide and Maverick camps as well came to life. We had to shut them down while X and Zero led the war against the big boys."

            "I can only imagine." Signas closed his eyes and let the cold wind caress his weary face. It seemed ridiculously sinful to relax while others under his command scrambled to restore order and save lives, but for that one brief moment in time Signas couldn't care less. It was over, he told himself. It was finally over, and all that was left now was to rebuild. He could handle that.

            "There's a Caligula at four o'clock," Zion announced, and Signas looked in the proper direction.

            "Tired already, boys?" the intelligence officer said as he ambled into the little camp. Unlike pretty much everyone else Signas had seen that night, Cal was the only one who didn't look like he was about to drop dead from exhaustion. "All live Mavericks have been subdued and the Army choppers have arrived to…eh…extradite them. The same thing goes for the dead ones." At Signas's raised eyebrow Caligula just shrugged. "I think they recycle them, or something. Crude, but what are you gonna do?"

            "The System really sends the wrong message to its Reploids," Signas said with a scowl.

            "Worry about that later," Zion advised, stretching again. "For now, let's worry about how to best pull ourselves out of this big stinking mess. I expect there's going to be a lot of leads to follow after we get back on our feet?"

            "We've already gotten some information that links the Gold Serpent to both the attacks on Signas and Zero in Sub-City 3 and the shutdown at Alden Base," Caligula affirmed. "We don't know what else that bastard may be responsible for, but I've tipped off Army Intel and they're redoubling their police work. We also got in touch with Gate, and he's on his way here now. He didn't sound too happy, though. Think something went wrong?"

            "Of course something went wrong," Signas said with another scowl. "That seems to be par for the course."

            "You have no idea," Zion agreed, smiling without much humor.

            They of course were avoiding the one question that they all wanted answered: what of the Seraph Castle team? How had they fared? Zion hadn't received a single communication from X since they parted ways in the Catskills. Somehow, Zion couldn't even consider the possibility that X and Zero had died, but he did worry about the soldiers X had taken with him. He didn't know too much about the Maverick kingpins themselves, but Zion knew there had to have been a few surprises inside the Maverick stronghold. How had his comrades fared?

            As it turned out, this time Zion's questions would be answered.

            Six beams of light streaked down from a sky dusty with windswept debris. Zion, Signas and Caligula all snapped upright at once, watching the beams touch down and solidify into Reploid forms. Zion's memory told him there should have been two additional Hunters warping back, and already a knot formed in his stomach.

            It tightened when he saw the sorry condition of the six survivors.

            Delates and Acrystos supported a battered Zero, his chest plate crushed in and his body riddled with a number of other wounds. Behind them, Tyclammel helped an exhausted Cort along while toting a heavy black case. The only one walking alone was Mega Man X himself, though if anything he was in just as bad of shape as Zero was. The Azure Hunter, azure once more in the absence of his Fourth Armor, carried his own severed arm in the one still attached. X also had clearly been on the receiving end of many more attacks. Somehow, though, Zion thought incredulously, the blue bastard had managed to survive it all again.

            "Signas…Zion," X said in greeting, his face bearing the weary yet victorious look it always did upon the end of a Maverick uprising. But like the crew at the HQ, X's team was worrying, too. "How bad is it?"

            "It…could be worse," Signas said after a glance at Zion, while in the background Caligula contacted Lifesaver and told him to haul ass. "The airship smashed half the base to hell before we took it down. Then the Mavericks occupied it."

            "They what?" Tyclammel said in disbelief, Cort glancing up also.

            "The Brothers Beetle," Zion explained dryly. "Gravity B. and Boomer K. Grav scattered mines every which way, but we just deactivated the last of them."

            "You sure?" Zero asked weakly, his breathing still heavy.

            "As sure as we can be," Zion offered with the slightest of shrugs. "That's why we're treating most of the wounded outside. It's dangerous, I know, but right now we just don't know what's more dangerous."

            "The Mavericks?" Acrystos pressed, gesturing towards the HQ.

            "Defeated," was all Zion would say.

            "Your turn," Signas finally broke in. "What happened back there?"

            X gave himself a second to compose himself, noting Zero's sudden intake of breath. But as soon as he started talking his comrade relaxed. "All Mavericks were either dispersed or destroyed."

            "The leaders?"

            "The minor ones, or Sigma?" X had to smile at their reactions. "Of course, it was Sigma. He let us kill him in the quarry specifically so our guard would drop."

            "Brutal trick," Zion grumbled.

            "Worked, too," Caligula observed mercilessly.

            "Sigma is gone, in any case," X announced, taking a seat on a big piece of apartment. He winced at the continuing pain in his sparking shoulder socket, but forced himself to stay focused. "As are his generals. Zero escaped his confines and we met up after destroying Gredam and his crew." X was amazed at how easy it was to utter so giant a lie with a face so perfectly straight. "From there we eliminated Sigma and his Marauder ride armor."

            "So that's where that damn thing went," the intelligence chief breathed. "How in the world did you…?"

            "Lots of Hail Marys," Zero replied glibly.

            "Don't forget this," Tyclammel said as he inched the black box towards the commanders.

            "What's this…?" Signas asked, feeling something ominous about the object.

            "That would be a warhead," Zero explained. "Sigma hoped to get away with it and threaten us with random nuclear chaos. Fortunately I beaned him with a snowball before he could get away."

            "While all this was going on," X picked up, "Delates and company were setting bombs on the base foundation."

            "Seraph Castle is no more," Tyclammel said, grinning absently, "thanks to us."

            "Thanks to Lyon, mostly," Delates said in a low voice.

            Signas caught the hint. "Casualties…?"

            "Lyon and Feldspar were killed," Delates said before anyone else could speak, though in that same tone of voice. "Both were past hope of revival."

            There was a heavy silence after that, only broken when X asked a question of equal solemnity. "How many lost on this end?"

            A soft, sad laugh escaped Signas's lips. "I'll tell you when they stop dying." The look that flashed through his eyes was one that X knew well. He made a note to speak to the commander later.

            "Jesus Christ, you guys," a haggard new voice exclaimed from behind the clustered soldiers and officers. They made way for Lifesaver, Dr. Ledyard and Dr. Carlton. "I was kind of hoping you all would have taken care of yourselves."

            "Man, am I glad to see them white hats," Zero grinned, while X got shakily to his feet.

            "We'll talk later," Signas said with a nod at Lifesaver. "For now, get these people to the district hospital. That's where we're sending the worst of our wounded," he explained.

            "Hope you like the weather tonight," Lifesaver said blandly to his new charges. "You get to take a sky-ride through it."

            "I've seen worse weather in December," Zero observed as they began their shaky trek to the waiting hovercopters. "You just have to know what to look for."

            "And just what are we looking for?" X asked him quietly. Zero just smiled.

            Delates was not wounded badly enough to require immediate medical attention. Acrystos insisted that she was in the same boat, but the damage the Android had inflicted upon her back said otherwise. Dr. Carlton picked up the spinal distortion immediately and had Acrystos loaded onto one of the two hovercopters waiting to exfiltrate the wounded.

            Delates followed them, not intending to board but feeling it necessary to at least accompany his comrades. He saw Zero lying on a stretcher, and he was pretty sure his wasted commander was fast asleep even before Lifesaver finished securing his restraints. X wasn't quite as exhausted, though the rigors of the night had been catching up to him quickly. He clutched absently at his throbbing stump of an arm while staring distantly at the sky. Cort and Acrystos entered the other chopper, the one Delates stood just outside of. Cort just flashed his friend a thumbs up and a trademark smile, while Acrystos winced as Dr. Carlton fastened her in place. "What will you do?" she called to Delates over the sound of the engines staring up.

            "I've got people to find," was his simple response.

            A frown of uncertainty appeared on her face, but she pushed it aside. "If you see him…"

            "He'll see you," Delates promised, knowing of whom she spoke. Acrystos allowed this to satisfy her and tried to relax as the hovercopters rose from the charred earth, taking their occupants someplace far safer.

Once they had vanished into the night sky Delates turned to Tyclammel, who clapped him firmly on the shoulder. "Ya done good."

            "Did I?"

            The orange Reploid sighed. "Feldspar fell when X was around. Even he couldn't stop it from happening. And it's not like any of us could have done any better against Sigma than we did. Lyon made the most of things, just like any of us would have. Just like you would have."

            The emerald acting commander absorbed this, vowing yet again to put the matter out of mind and hoping this time it worked. "Thanks." He clapped Tyclammel's shoulder in turn. "Care for a stroll?"

            Tyclammel shrugged and they started into the larger gaggle of Hunters, most of whom were still bustling about securing the ruined HQ. The whole scene was one big mess, but at least the Hunters themselves were more organized than they had been hours earlier. Lifesaver, Carlton and Ledyard had returned to the fray, performing field medic work with the aid of the rest of the hospital staff and recently arrived Army medics. Zegmann and Douglas were in charge of the excavation going on at the Buzzbomb impact point, putting their less destructive machines to good use. Zion's Unit 20 stood guard around the HQ perimeter, while Archer's Unit 5 reinforced the HQ itself. Mason's Unit 3 was gone, having left to search the crashed Gallagher for any remaining threats. Alan Seitz and the rest of the Invisible Men were making themselves quite visible, skittering about the base and collecting information from every possible venue. Occasionally Caligula would join them, but he never stayed in one place long.

            Those with minor wounds clustered in a camp of sorts while the field medics took care of them. They would eventually be transported to the district hospital, though they were certainly in competent hands at the moment. The amount of medics and equipment present guaranteed the kind of service equal at least to what could be had in the Hunter medical ward, while it had still been functional.

            It was to this area that Delates and Tyclammel were drawn, searching for friends among the sea of unfortunate faces. It was not one of these that called out to them, however, but rather one from behind.

            "Del! Ty! Thank Christ you're still alive!"
            "Castle," Delates said, turning to shake the guerilla's hand. "Been looking for you."

            "Looks about as bad here as it was back there," Tyclammel observed.

            "If that's the case then I'm afraid to ask about the casualties," Castle replied uneasily. "Even though I still will."

            "Your girlfriend's fine," Delates assured him. "At least, she will be. Her back got a little messed up, but it's nothing the docs can't fix. Took two casualties, though."

            "Shit." Castle wiped some sweat from his brow. "We got plenty of deaders here, but most of 'em were the newer ones we hadn't had time to train. Shadin from X's unit is messed up really bad, and Stromm from my group bit the bullet."

            "God damn, could this get any worse?" Tyclammel exhaled slowly, letting his head loll back.

            "It can," Castle declared, in a defeated tone. He clenched and unclenched his fists, giving Delates the news he needed to hear. "The Commander…Damia, she's…"

            "Don't tell me," Delates whispered, feeling his insides crash.

            "She's alive," Castle said quickly. "I'm not sure how good a thing that is, though."

            "God, man, what happened?"

            "Boomer Kuwangner happened." The anger was evident in both Castle's eyes and voice. "Damia was part of a group including Tiberius and Dr. Cain that was trapped inside the base when the Mavericks took over. Kuwangner and another Maverick subdued her and tortured her nearly to death, just for the simple fun of it. Dantz and I got her out just in time."

            "And Kuwangner?" Delates managed, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

            "He's dead now," Castle replied, very simply.

            Delates ran his hands up across his face and over his helmet, forcing the feeling of dread to subside long enough for him to think straight. "The hospital?"

            Castle nodded. "That'd be why I was looking for you. Come along too, Tyclammel. They've got regular transports waiting nearby."

            "What about the other Maverick?" Tyclammel asked as they began to walk. "You said there was another Maverick with Kuwangner. What happened to him?"

            "A few of the prisoners mentioned a 'Doc Volvar', who we're assuming is the Maverick in question." Castle shook his head. "He vanished before we could apprehend him, and his body has yet to be found on the scene."

            Delates was only partially aware of the conversation, walking in a daze. He'd already lost Sol, Katana, Feldspar and Lyon to this blasted uprising. If he lost Damia of all people, so damn soon after everything else… He turned his head towards Castle. "How bad is she?"

            The guerilla winced. "I don't think you want to know the details—"

            "I do."

            Castle closed his eyes, as though willing the sight out of mind. "It was just…bad. Lifesaver did what he could to stop internal bleeding while the hovercopters came. Dantz and I stayed with her till they flew her off, but even under the tranks I think she still felt it. She tried talking once or twice…she never got anything coherent out."

            Delates couldn't decide whether rage or fear was the more powerful of his emotions as he sat down in the Army road transport. If Damia died he knew it'd be too much for him. And who was this Doc Volvar to still be alive? Delates swore then and there that if the bastard was still alive, he would be the one to kill him, despite the fact that all of Unit 8 would be vying for that opportunity.

            Why, he wondered as the transport stared up, was the aftermath always worse than the war itself? After all their work stopping those who would do evil, why were they doomed only to more suffering? Delates finally felt he understood the old saying. War was indeed hell, just not for the reasons Delates had first imagined.

            Another Hunter in particular was trying to claw his way out of that hell.

            Vulcan knelt at the feet of a Reploid whose leg had been torn by a saber chop. Rykov did most of the work, having proven an adequate medic when he followed Lifesaver's instructions. With the arrival of Army medics, their help was no longer needed, and planned to take a breather after they finished with this Hunter.

            The gash was fairly nasty, and had severed a minor vein that Rykov was almost done putting together. Then it was a matter of some medical team applying new skin to cover the gash. Vulcan watched, though his vision was not focused on anything in particular. His mind had crashed, slowly but surely. Everything that he had seen and done in the past few days was catching up to him, and it was more than he had ever bargained for. For this reason he'd been keeping himself occupied helping Rykov or performing some minor task Archer or Hawkins needed done, but even this wasn't serving to keep his mind busy anymore.

            Unwilling to dwell on the battles, he dwelt instead on his friends. He and Rykov hadn't been damaged very badly—physically, anyway—but the others hadn't been so fortunate. Hawkins, his squad leader, had gashes all over him from trying to deal with that monster, Geddon. He hadn't seen Alec since the pilot had saved his ass in the generator room. If it hadn't been for Alec leading the air unit in on foot, Tiberius's effort to keep the wounded safe from Geddon would have been all for naught.

            That left the more obscure friends. Nightchaser was one person Vulcan had never expected to be able to call a friend, and he still didn't know if he could. But if the stories were true, Chase had come through every time he'd been needed, keeping Vulcan's other friends alive, and an unpleasant knot in the silver Hunter's stomach reminded him that he'd probably owe Chase a drink for that. Then there was the traitor. He still could not believe that Scythe had been a Maverick. While he hadn't known the golden Reploid all that well, Alec had, and the pilot, famous for venting his opinions of people long and loud, had never once dropped a hint of suspicion. He'd not seen Scythe since they'd departed from the HQ. It had only been a little under two days, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. Again, however, if the stories were true Scythe had attacked Krysta, and he deserved what Chase had done to him.   

            Krysta…she occupied most of his mind. He wasn't quite sure how to categorize his feelings for her. Rykov would be quick to accuse him of love, but he didn't know enough about that term to dare to use it. What he knew was, they'd always been there for each other as long as they'd known each other. Like Rykov, he knew he could trust her completely, but unlike Rykov it just seemed like something more with her. What Vulcan really wanted was for Krysta to recover, and for things to go back to normal as quickly as possible. Half his motivation for this was that he hated thinking that his friend was suffering. The other half was that he simply needed some semblance of normalcy. But normalcy, it seemed, may be forever denied to him.

            It was a simple accident on Rykov's part—he applied too much pressure on the vein and a sharp stream of Reploid blood shot out. Rykov quickly corrected his mistake and fixed the vein and the wounded Reploid, unresponsive to pain thanks to the tranks he'd been given, merely jumped slightly at the sight. Vulcan, however, caught the stream full in the face.

            The young Hunter reeled backwards, losing his balance and falling on his hindquarters, clawing at his face as though it were being seared away by acid. The blood ran through his fingers, it mottled his hair, it dribbled down his neck. Images automatically and ruthlessly flooded Vulcan's mind, images of friends dying, of blood pouring, and worst of all a tank driving over a rookie Hunter no older than Vulcan. The next thing he knew Vulcan had fallen again into the soupy puddle of scrap and coolant that had been the Hunter Derringer, the tanker Tetra preparing his demise while Vulcan peeled a strip of flesh from the back of his neck, flesh that had been Derringer's face. He screamed and pushed himself away, trying to distance himself from the blood, the death, and above all the horror.

            "Shit," Rykov swore as vehemently as he could, rushing to where Vulcan lay. "God damn it, Vulc, I'm sorry…" He took a towel he'd been carrying with him and used it to clean the blood off his writhing friend's face. "Snap out of it, man!" he ordered, taking Vulcan by the silver shoulders and shaking him firmly. "Look at me!"

            Vulcan did, and the world slowly slid back into focus, though the horror was still fresh in his mind. He could even still feel the leathery face clinging to his neck. With a pitiful moan the Hunter fell onto his side, exhausted physically and emotionally, while a bemused Rykov tried to figure out how the hell to help him.

            Ever since joining the Hunters, Vulcan's life had taken one sharp turn after another. It had started out innocently enough. Becoming a Hunter was something more and more Reploids were doing, and Vulcan had seen it almost as a new form of law enforcement. Sigma's last grand scheme had been so huge, so catastrophic, and still it had failed. This, the world had thought, and Vulcan with them, had to be the last of the uprisings. What could come after so deadly a thing as Final Weapon? What unit could match the strength and capabilities of the Repliforce? The Hunters had triumphed over the ultimate evil, and now there was a future to build. Vulcan had supposed he would help build it, preserving order while a new world took form.

            But he had quickly learned that being a Hunter was much more akin to being a soldier than it was a policeman. On that first mission to destroy Sigma in the quarry, Vulcan had been singled out because of his skill at sniping and his performance in the weapons match. He'd seen Sigma die, though he still didn't know who'd actually pulled the trigger. Credit for that had fallen on him nonetheless, and he quickly became revered and respected for abilities he couldn't possibly have possessed, being so fresh out of training. For a time he'd allowed himself to believe he just might have the right stuff, until that train mission when the Maverick swordswoman had put him in his place. He'd had no business being there. His reputation had preceded him and Zero had wanted to see how far he could go, and as a result he'd almost died, saved only the Hunter Feldspar, who Vulcan had learned was now dead himself.

            Then came the preparations for a full-scale attack on Seraph Castle. Vulcan had trained long and hard to be ready for the battles to come, and like most of his comrades he looked forward to what lay ahead. He'd never expected to have to turn full around as soon as they'd reached their destination, chasing a Maverick airship armed with nuclear weapons back to their home. The shock of learning the enemy had nukes was still clear in his mind. Archer had informed the troops on the way back as they froze in the Catskill chill, and they'd arrived exhausted and sickly to behold their city and home in flames. Fortunately they'd been able to prevail against the enemy, but only after battles that were like nothing Vulcan had ever expected. First he'd been thrust in the middle of chaos, unable to think consciously at all, doing nothing except swing his sword or fire his cannon. Then he'd watched as a tank demolished many of his comrades, and then been forced to experience that horrifying moment when…

            But he wouldn't remind himself, not anymore. Here he was now, not at all the gifted soldier who'd fought with elites, but a broken young man unable to let go of war. Indeed, he'd only known solace after the tank incident when he'd been fighting in the generator room. Fighting was what his body and mind knew how to do best, it seemed, but in the absence of combat the mind turned its efforts against the body, and vice versa. Rykov half-suspected something of this nature but couldn't put it into words, and even if he could he would not known any way at all to help his friend.

            "Why did we do it…?" Vulcan finally asked, choking on something sour—some of the blood had seeped through his lips.

            "What do you mean?" Rykov said coolly, sitting Vulcan up straight and kneeling next to him.

            "Why'd we do it?" Vulcan's head rolled back and he looked vacantly at his best friend. "Why the hell did we do it?"

            Rykov nodded very slowly, beginning to understand. "Does it matter why we did this? Why we became Hunters? Why we fought?"

            "Of course it matters…it has to matter."

            "Not at all. What matters is, we did it, and that's all. We fought, and people who would have died lived." Though Rykov was about Vulcan's age, he still felt like some seasoned old warrior dispensing tried and true advice, when in fact he was pulling everything out of his ass. He hoped it didn't stink.

            Vulcan's response eased Rykov's worries. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, though brokenly. "And what do we do now?"

            "Now?" Rykov blinked. "Now it's back to how it used to be. Now we can live normally."

            "Live normally…" A shudder went through Vulcan's body at the thought of his former way of life. Before it had been full of peace and allowed far more freedom than it had during a Red Climate, but now he thought of it with dread. He would have his friends with him, but he knew already they would not be ample distraction. Things would be too routine. Nothing would be there to take his mind fully off everything that had recently transpired, unless he trained all day every day, which he knew was not an option.

            He looked seriously at Rykov, the fear plain in his eyes. "I don't know if I can do that."

            Rykov bowed his head to hide his worried expression. It was the last thing he'd wanted to hear. Vulcan's mind had been scarred, and Rykov didn't know if the scars would go away. If they didn't, then the silver Hunter's life might well be ruined.

            It was too much to dwell on at once, too dreary for an occasion that should have been much more exuberant. Twice now they'd destroyed the Maverick King and twice now they'd been more depressed after the battle than they'd been before it. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Rykov stood and got Vulcan to his feet, his eyes scanning the area and settling on the Army transports waiting for use. "Let's check the hospital," he said, guiding Vulcan in the direction of the transports. "They don't need us here anymore, and they should be done working on Krysta by now."

            The thought of seeing Krysta cleared away some of the fog in Vulcan's mind. He realized then why he held her in such high regard—she served as an anchor of sorts, keeping his mind and emotions focused on something tangible while preventing thoughts of the past from resurfacing. When he'd nursed her after the battle in the HQ, he'd felt the same kind of peace he'd felt fighting. In a way, she reassured him that he was good for something besides killing.

            "Let's go," Vulcan agreed, not looking back at the scene behind him. Even a hospital, another scene of pain, seemed better than this place. Rykov nodded and quickened the pace, hoping to catch the next transport out, and hoping further that the trip did his friend some good. If not, he didn't know what else to do.

            Signas entered the Grand Hall of Maverick Hunter Headquarters slower than he ever had before, marveling at how the impressive structure he'd recently begun to call home had been ruined by the enemy attack. The structural damage was far more extensive than had been anticipated, but the building's central sector had been deemed safe. Signas approached this area now, touring the bloodstained halls of his command post as he went. His frown grew deeper with every step, and with every breath he damned the Mavericks worse than before. Clearly, this batch had been the most evil of them all. Mavericks had always been brutal, but this level seemed to exceed all others, despite the fact that most of the damage was confined to a remarkably small space. He'd seen what was left of Tiberius. He'd beheld Damia's ruined form and had read the medical estimates of what had happened to her. He could still see, when outside, fire burning from the small part of the city unfortunate enough to be underneath the Buzzbomb blast that had taken out Icarus. The Maverick airship, even deactivated, was yet a source of fear. What if there was some other, even dastardlier weapon inside that thing? Mason had yet to report back, so all Signas could do was worry.

            Unlike some others, however, he at least had enough on his plate to keep his mind busy, though he didn't count this as a blessing in any way shape or form. Currently he was to meet a guest in his office, ignoring Zion's warning to avoid the interior of the base. As far as Signas was concerned, they had taken the fort, and now it was up to them to fix what had been broken, and that started by having enough guts to walk inside your own house.

            The guest in question raised his head and bowed it again in recognition of Signas' presence when the Hunter general entered the room. He was not sitting, and instead leaned against the wall nearest Signas' desk. The general did not sit either, merely closing the door and nodding in his guest's direction, returning the greeting. Signas barely recognized his acquaintance in his dark blue armor without the white lab coat that so frequently went along with it. "You had no problems getting here?" Signas asked.

            "Other than stomaching what I saw, no." Gate straightened up and offered a tired smile to the Hunter. "Your intelligence officer wanted results, so here I am to give them."

            "It really wasn't necessary to come so soon," Signas sighed, resting his hands on the back of a chair. Gate leaned back against the wall, one arm across his chest and the other hanging limp at his side. There was a sort of uneasiness about him that Signas detected at once, though he assumed it had to do with the circumstances surrounding Megacity 5. "But no sense in making you come back, eh?"

            "No," Gate smiled thinly, looking up at the general. "I imagine the UNDINE site will concern you the most. Investigators Wolfang, Heatnix and Scarabich secured and destroyed all remaining information of a sensitive nature, though there was not much left. The Mavericks undoubtedly have most of your codes in their possession, which explains how they were able to learn of your trip to Sub-City 3 and plot their ambush. I recommend completely restructuring your computer security."

            Signas nodded glumly—here was yet another task to be completed, and restructuring the whole computer security network would prove just as monstrous a task as rebuilding the HQ. "What of the Maverick complex in Brazil?"

            "Of course, Brazil…" There was hollowness in Gate's voice, and it caught the other Reploid's attention immediately. "Commander Yammark and his troops successfully neutralized the base and its commander, Split Mushroom. They apprehended several mercenaries, including one 'Ephemeron' who claims to be in league with someone calling himself 'the Breaker'. There's no sign of this Breaker, however."

            "That wouldn't upset you to the point that you are, Gate," Signas said directly. "What else happened?"

            The international scientist took an uneasy breath. "Commander Yammark did not survive the battle. His flight program failed and he crashed."

            "Damn," Signas observed, somewhat lamely, he thought. He didn't know how close Gate was to his individual agents, but Yammark's death seemed to be hitting him hard. Unless there was something else…? "I know it's hard. We lost a lot here tonight ourselves."

            "No, no, it's not that," Gate said, waving it off, somewhat to Signas' surprise. "Yammark's subordinates, Gomez and Rodriguez, reported that while his body was in shambles, his head and main body parts were perfectly salvageable. There would be virtually no damage done to his mind if he were reactivated."

            Signas frowned. "Isn't that a good thing, then?"

            Gate laughed, and it was cold and mirthless. "It would be, indeed, were he to be allowed that opportunity."

            There was an edge in the room now, an edge that had poured off Gate's voice like water from a fountain. Signas actually found himself on guard. "What do you mean…?"

            Gate looked at him again, and this time his expression wasn't exactly one of harshness, but one of uncertainty. "I think, Signas…that I am being targeted."

            "Targeted?" Signas blinked. "By who?"

            "I don't know." Gate shook his head and eased himself off the wall. He paced the room slowly, seemingly oblivious to everything in it. "Yammark's body vanished from the scene before Gomez and Rodriguez could collect it. I don't know where he's been taken or if he's still salvageable, but all my attempts to bring him back here have been in vain."

            "Sabotage?"

            "More than you know." Gate's eyes narrowed as he moved. "I designed Yammark's flight program myself. I know how to program a damn aeronautic unit. The only way it could have failed is if someone had set it up to do so." Gate looked up. "Recently, I've been cited by some of the more conservative elements in both my scientific community and various governments. People seem to believe some of my robots are too powerful."

            "That's garbage," Signas growled. "Just because a Reploid has a few more abilities than—"

            "Yes, but try telling them that." Gate let something akin to a hiss escape his lips. "Rainy Turtloid, an Investigator designed to explore and cure the polluted areas, has come under fire due to the powers I've imbued him with. Metal Shark Player has drawn horrible fire for his work reanimating old machines, as though human factories don't do the same on a regular basis. Someone's trying to undermine me, Signas, as though I've done something that merits undermining." The scientist resisted the urge to spit.

            Signas absorbed this. Half of him was not surprised. To many, Gate was the new form of Doctor Doppler, both the good parts and the bad. Gate's contributions towards science were many and far reaching, but his growing influence rubbed many the wrong way. If someone saw his Investigators as a threat, neutralizing them made perfect sense. Signas, however, given his present feelings towards treatment of Reploids, was much more inclined to sympathize with Gate.

            "I will have Caligula look into this," he promised, standing straight. "We are in your debt, and we will repay that debt as best we can."

            Gate straightened also, and at least part of his burden seemed removed. "And for that, I thank you."

            Before more could be said, the office door opened and Alia strolled in absently, carrying with her a datapad that likely contained a message for Signas' eyes only. She stopped dead in her tracks when she realized she was interrupting something. "I'm sorry, sir, I should have knocked…"

            "I was on my way out anyway," Gate said quickly, moving to shake Signas' hand. "My contacts aren't limited strictly to the scientific community. I imagine you will want to investigate these events…I'll keep in touch." He took his leave, offering Alia only a crisp nod as he passed. This Signas noted. Alia's job as a Hunter followed a short career as a field scientist, during which time Gate had been a colleague of hers. At their last meeting, in Sub-City 3, Gate had seemed to consider Alia one of his friends, but this gesture—and Alia's badly concealed guilty reaction—seemed to hint otherwise. Signas hated to think Alia might know something about Gate's situation, or may in some way be involved in it, but…she did keep in touch with her other former colleagues. If any of them were behind Yammark's abduction, then might Alia know something after all?

            It mattered little, Signas decided, admitting the dispatcher to his office and taking the pad. Inscribed were not one but two messages. The first was a message from Commander Mason of Unit 3. They had arrived at the airship's remains and after careful inspection had determined that the remaining weapons, while still potent, were in no danger of being accidentally or randomly activated. Without Gallagher's power core online, the weapons would have no wake-up call. Mason and his troops were now on their way back to the Headquarters. The second message was from Commander Zegmann, informing Signas that his demolition team would be sent to aid the Army in disassembling the airship and securing what weapons were still usable before other less savory characters beat them to it.

            Signas knew full well who those characters were. Calls had flooded local police stations and other authorities concerning the staggering level of criminals making the most of the chaos, looting homes and businesses while the authorities were busy elsewhere. Given the field day the underworld was having, Signas half expected the Gold Serpent was behind all this in some way. But for the moment, all he could do was speculate.

            "How are you holding up, Alia?" he asked, regretting it quickly. Before she had been a dispatcher Alia had been a soldier. She could handle the rigors of combat.

            "I'll be fine," she assured him, still not quite over the embarrassment of barging in unannounced. "But we all have much to do yet. Zion wants to see you in the Grand Hall."

            "Probably another safety lecture," Signas said, attempting a smile as he followed Alia out the door.

            "The image is shattered," Alia said cryptically when they were halfway to the Hall.

            "What do you mean…?"

            "This is the most secure Hunter base in the world," Alia elaborated. "Doppler was the only one who attempted an invasion, and we drove him off. The image was that we were unstoppable." She shivered slightly. "Now that image is gone."

            "And you think people will be more inclined to act against us?" Signas smiled thinly. "Frankly, after seeing what's happened to these people, I invite them to try."

            "Even after what happened to us?"

            "There will always be casualties," Signas allowed. "But if the Mavericks have decided that they can now attack us without fear, we will have to do something to put them back in their place, will we not?"

            A slow smile crossed Alia's face. "Are you planning something?"

            "I am. It will be difficult, but if it works, and if I get the support I need, which I believe I will, nothing like…like this," he waved his hand around the base, "will happen again."

            The dispatcher nodded, liking the sound of it. "The support will come easily. We trust your judgment, sir."

            That served to catch the general off guard. Trust…it was something Cain had always had, yet Signas had expected himself to have to work for a good long time to earn it. He felt like he'd failed here, but in hindsight he'd really done all he could. As Cain's assistant he'd not been calling the shots, though he'd definitely done his part. He'd made good with what he had despite Megacity sluggishness. In the streets of Sub-City 3 he'd fought well, which surprised him given that he was not exactly a combat model Reploid. His skill with a firearm was not to be denied, but he'd not expected himself to hold up so well psychologically in the direct face of the enemy. He supposed it had been a good learning experience.

            Then Cain had gone down before the base was attacked, and Signas had assumed full control. The evacuation had been fully supported by every officer advising him, and he knew now it had been the right choice. If they'd stayed in the base they would surely have been destroyed. That had almost happened anyway when Gredam's search party came for them, but by some miracle Chartreuse's people had pulled through in the nick of time. That was something else that bothered Signas. The Dragoons had pulled out almost immediately after driving Gredam off. Some had remained, but none could account for the whereabouts of their leader. Signas had not put a trace out for Chartreuse, though something told him he had better do so, despite his lack of a clear reason.

            So. He had won. It may not have been the textbook victory he'd come to expect of the Hunters, but it had been a win nonetheless. And now, unless Cain reestablished control over the Hunters—which, given recent conversations Signas and Cain had shared in private, was very unlikely—Signas was now the boss. He hoped very much that the other Hunters shared Alia's mindset. It would make things so much easier.

            Alia left him in the Grand Hall with Zion. "You called?"

            "I did," Unit 20's officer responded. "Base perimeter is about as secure as it's going to get and not a single threat has been reported, from Mavericks or criminals or anything else. Mason and Zegmann are dealing with the airship—"

            "So I hear."

            "—And Archer's keeping the peace inside the perimeter, with X's unit helping him out. The rest of our forces are running around in here, and they report an all clear."

            "So what you're saying is, everything's under control?"

            "I am." Zion allowed himself a smile. "Congratulations, sir, your war is over."

            "Our war," Signas corrected him, smiling also. "And may there be no more like it."

            There were some, however, for whom the war was still raging.

            "Someone needs to catch this bastard," Colonel Tony Jones, the commander of Alden Base, said in Conference Room 4 of Maverick Hunter Headquarters. "The longer he's on the loose, the more trouble he can cause."

            "Easy, sir." The second voice, calm and cautious compared to Jones' gruff and forward tone, belonged to Major Wallace Coleman, the same man who'd informed Commander Archer of the Buzzbomb threat in the Megacity junkyards. "As of yet, the evidence linking Kou Cao to these events is slim."

            "Bullshit!" Jones fairly spat. "That bastard stole the Marauder from me, I know how he works!"

            "And how is that?" Caligula asked coolly, leaning back against the table and typing notes on a datapad without once needing looking down to check his accuracy.

            "He always, always has a man on the inside," Jones growled. "In my case it was Cassius. Damn me, but I never saw the bastard as a threat. He was a lifelong soldier. I don't know what the Serpent offered him, but he turned. He turned my base's defenses against us, which is why we couldn't come to help fight the airship off. I assume Cassius also had a lot to do with the Marauder theft."

            "And that Marauder showed up in Seraph Castle." Caligula nodded. "What of the second Marauder? You were making two, correct?"

            "Discontinued." Jones shook his head. "They won't let us continue, after what happened with the first one."

            "Good," Caligula said, ignoring the colonel's reaction.

            "Even so," Coleman protested, "why couldn't it have been Mavs that stole the Marauder?"

            "You think we let Reploids outside the army into the bases on a regular basis?" Jones said with a derisive snort. Caligula didn't react in any way, but the soldier still felt a sudden need to defend himself. "There ain't nothin' racist about it. It's just that Reploids are the only ones who go Maverick, so if they're not in the ranks, they don't get in. Humans helped Cassius steal Marauder. It had to be the Serpent or one of his cronies, because they're the only ones who humans'd work for."

            "We have some evidence of the Gold Serpent too," Caligula announced, much to Coleman's surprise. "Just before leaving via medivac, Zero mentioned the Serpent and linked him with another name." He told them.

            "Jesus," Jones breathed. "Kitao's aid?"

            "But we would have known," Coleman protested. "I mean, someone in that position…"

            "Just like you 'knew' about the Buzzbomb theft?" Caligula asked with a raised eyebrow. "As I recall, if it weren't for two of the junkyard workers we would never have known."

            "Nevertheless," Coleman recovered, "it seems impossible for him to control such a big network under our surveillance."

            "Criminals rarely work like those trained by the military," Caligula offered. "We're looking for patterns and obvious strategies. Chartreuse, if he is indeed the Serpent, would have known that and played on it to secure his secrecy. Plus, with that secrecy needing to be upheld, he'd delegate most of his underworld powers to his underlings so less could be traced to him personally."

            "I suppose…" Coleman looked as though he might be sick. Intelligence was his job, and if he had missed something as glaring as this… "Christ, do you know what we're talking about? One figure within our own damn ranks instigating a nuclear strike?"

            "Whoever said anything about the nukes?" Jones asked with a frown.

            "Chartreuse's position would make it easy for him to gain access to the information regarding the location of the buried Buzzbombs," Caligula explained. "If he's not the Serpent, he could easily have leaked the info to the real Serpent, or definitely to the Mavericks who ultimately used the weapons."

            "Oh." Jones' eyes narrowed. "Well then the bastard should at least be brought in for questioning."

            "It's doubtful that he returned to his unit, if he is in fact guilty," Coleman observed, running his hand through his hair. "Probably won't be long before whoever is the Serpent flees the System."

            "That's why the Army needs to move, and move fast." Caligula looked at both men carefully. "My people are quite obviously busy. We can scan the local scene, but most of our efforts will be put to stopping Mavericks who may think to take advantage of our downtime. I need you people to be after the Serpent on a global scale. If he did this, God knows what else he might have up his sleeve." He glanced at his watch. "Must go. I won't have much else for you until X and Zero snap out of it, but I'll send it when I get it."

            Coleman nodded. "I'll get our Intel guys mobilized. Hopefully someone will know how to best track this guy."

            "When dealing with the Serpent," Jones said grimly, "you'll need a lot more steel than you will hope."

            Thankfully, Caligula thought as he left the two Megacity officers behind, he had plenty of both.

            Alia felt the brief feeling of victory she'd experienced inside the base evaporate swiftly upon reentering the frosty outdoors. Thin layers of fresh snow carpeted the earth, marred by footsteps of human and Reploid making and in some worse cases, blood. The war may be over, but there were still battles being fought. Many of her comrades still struggled against fate for the right to breathe, while still others fought despite their exhaustion to assist the commanders in coordinating their efforts.

            Alia herself wanted nothing more than to flop down in the snow and sleep for a month. While she would not allow herself to do this—even though she had no current task—she did wander somewhat distantly about the HQ grounds, eventually finding her way to an abandoned rim of what used to be the pristine gardens Zero had so enjoyed staring at. The Buzzbomb had not demolished the entire area, but she was positive that it would never regain its former beauty. All the plants were long since dead, doomed by the icy breath of winter, but Alia found peace here nonetheless, as did most every Hunter who ever ventured into the area.

            From here she could and did turn to see the whole of the recovery effort playing out behind her. She saw less activity than usual, and allowed herself to believe that since there was less to be done she had an excuse for taking a breather here. The major reason she'd worked so long was because while the battles had been raging, she'd wanted nothing more than to take part in them. She felt that she'd failed her unit in the 12th district quarry, being taken out before she even had a chance to draw her weapon. She'd needed the help of a rookie, Krysta, to keep alive that night, and even afterwards her frame was too badly damaged to support a combat lifestyle, relegating her to dispatch duty. She'd done her part holding Gredam at bay, but it just didn't seem like enough to her, and so she'd done absolutely everything in her power to aid in the aftermath.

            The end result was, of course, exhaustion, but more than that there was a feeling of sadness. This had been her home, and now it would never be the same, despite Signas' words. She'd been moved around as long as she could remember, originally designed as a field technician and scientist. She'd never truly felt at home in that profession, however, and had come to the Hunters out of an inability to adapt to civilian life. Her covert skills won her into X's unit of all units, and for the first time she'd felt like she belonged somewhere. Now, though, this place was forever damaged. She wondered if it would ever seem whole again.

            Then she caught something out of the corner of her eye. She very nearly dismissed it as a hallucination, but turned her head to investigate for lack of anything better to do. Then she was sure that she was hallucinating. She walked very slowly towards a former flower patch, covered now by a very thin layer of snow, and knelt down to get a closer look at this impossibility.

            The impossibility in question was a live iris flower, its violet petals contrasting sharply with the world of white surrounding it. Alia stroked a finger down the flower's length to reassure herself that the image was real, feeling everything from the petals to the cold ground the flower rose from. It was just simply impossible, she told herself, for something like this to be growing in the freezing temperatures of December, and even more impossible for it not to have died during the wicked blizzard that had besieged Megacity 5 for nearly two days. Alia for the life of her couldn't remember any flowers here before the Hunters had left for Seraph Castle, and she was pretty sure she'd have noticed something like this earlier if it had been there.

            Then where had it come from? The earth was the most obvious answer but in this case it made too much sense. It had to be a joke, she told herself, or some feeble attempt at symbolizing new life or something. She almost unconsciously took hold of the stem and pulled very gently upwards, as though to uproot the faux life form.

            She stopped as though slapped when the roots caught and the flower resisted.

            "Real," she whispered despite herself, blinking the snowflakes from her eyes. It was like a flower from the springtime. She released the flower, feeling as though uprooting it would be blasphemy of some sort, and stood. For a while she stared the miracle down, as though daring itself to reveal some duplicity, but nothing changed. It withered not despite the cold, sustaining itself even though all nearby groundwater was frozen.

            A shiver rose up Alia's spine, but it did not discomfort her, because with it rose her mood. If a flower could rise from the barren earth in this time of barren spirits…

            …Then perhaps there was nothing to worry about, after all.

            Signas had a plan. He was going to do something, and whatever it was, whatever consequences it would bring, Alia knew everything would be worth it. The Hunters were changing, but the change would be for the better. X, Zero and everyone else in the hospitals would wake up good as new. If something as fragile as an iris could survive the test of time, so could they.

            The dispatcher left the garden with a smile on her face. It was a tired smile, but it would not go away. Even the winter wind on her face felt cool rather than cold. A new day was fast approaching. It was an opportunity for a fresh start, and Alia would be damned if she didn't take it.

            Outside the grounds of the Hunter Headquarters, not everyone shared Alia's positive viewpoint.

            "Thank you, General," the colonel in charge of the control room said boldly, "but you really have done all you can. You need to rest."

            "Rest?" General Virdelko said, his dead eyes staring clear through the colonel. "Rest now? After this?" He blinked, regaining control of himself. He'd just proven the colonel right, and he wanted to lash out in anger at that fact. Instead he just turned and left the room, saying nothing as he passed the assembled soldiers who saluted as he passed. Worst of all were the Reploid soldiers who stood stiff in respect as he approached. Why did they salute him, Virdelko wondered. What had he done besides make life harder for them? Why did the humans even salute him? He'd failed them. He'd surrendered to fear years ago and now his city burned with nuclear fire because of it. It was, he knew, all his fault.

            He often said that he knew nothing about what really happened during Terrornova's official lifetime—he had always hidden behind that excuse. But he had known, deep down. Kitao had been a famous racist with no respect for the Reploids as a people, and Virdelko hadn't been much better. Even now Klementi Illich was no saint, though he had at least come to recognize their legitimacy as a race. But still he opposed Reploid rights out of fear, fear that more power would lead to more Mavericks, and now, only now did he realize that the exact opposite was true—more restriction brewed much more trouble.

            He'd not conceived of Terrornova but he had authorized it. That meant anything they'd done, anyone they'd killed, all of it came back ultimately to him. And then the assassins themselves had been eliminated, something Virdelko had at the time accepted as collateral damage. With Sigma on the loose, he had been quick to blame the assassins as failures even though it was Kitao's own bickering with other authorities that kept the group from targeting Sigma. Elimination seemed a just punishment.

            The problem was, they had not willingly committed the crimes. Again, it all fell back to Virdelko…and if elimination was just for them, what did that say for him?

            The general entered his private chambers in the central Army base, located in an entirely different Megacity. Part of him was glad he'd left Icarus when he'd had, but another part wished he'd have stayed to die. It had, after all, been his crimes that inspired these attacks. If the intelligence reports were true, the Maverick kingpins were former Terrornova fodder, and again that linked their deeds to Virdelko. He had knocked over the first domino on a chaotic chain that ended with the roar of nuclear weapons after decades upon decades of their silence. True, the damage was not at all extensive and was confined to a remarkably tiny area, but the thought was there—the thought that it could all have easily been so much worse.

            If he had caused something like this, what right did he still have to be in power? His orders had resulted in the exact opposite of what he had sworn to accomplish. He had failed in his duty, but beyond that he was, at least in his mind, guilty of terrible criminal acts.

            He had crossed to his window before realizing that he had his pistol out. The general stared in surprise at the sleek black weapon. He raised it closer to his face. Its sight called to mind his days in the service, back when the wars had been what he considered 'reasonable.' The Megacity Army was more of an extreme police force than it was anything else, given the general absence of war in the modern world. It moved into areas of turmoil to restore order, however, and Virdelko had shown great skill in keeping that order, part of the reason for his hasty advancement.

            But it seemed it had been too hasty, after all. He had become convinced that second-guessing himself was a waste of time, never considering the options as well as he should have. As a result his fellow humans had suffered under Maverick tyranny, and innocent Reploid noncombatants had been browbeaten with cruel and unfair laws, many of which Virdelko himself had pushed for.

            He'd fired this pistol before, and he'd killed with it. He'd been on just that one actual combat tour, fighting terrorists who had settled in the Mexican region of North America. There had begun his dislike for machines, for the enemy had used machines so effectively in killing Virdelko's comrades. He had prevailed then, but somewhere on the way he'd lost the path, and the pistol had been pointed at all the wrong people.

            Now there was no one left to point it at but himself.

            The thought initially surprised the general. At first he assumed it was his military ego, telling him the act reeked of cowardice, which he supposed it did. But the more he thought about it, the more problems it could solve. He was a threat, wasn't he? He'd orchestrated this, one way or another. He knew none of those outside would give him the punishment he deserved. Only he could stop himself, stop the orders that brought death to those who carried them out, stop the injustices done to Reploids, and stop above all the immense guilt that threatened to tear his soul to pieces.

            The pistol shook in his hand, and he realized that it was turned towards his face. Again it surprised him, and made him aware of the cold sweat that had seized him. His hand trembled slightly, but that, he told himself, was because of the indecision. And why was there any of that? He was guilty, now let him face the consequences.

            Sure, no one would really understand. There was nothing in his records to link him to this incident, at least nothing that could be understood. To them it would be a horribly random event, but he knew and that was all that mattered.

            So why was it so damned hard?

            He began to think he was a coward for not pulling the trigger, and to support it a million different excuses flooded his mind. He shut most out, but ironically enough this triggered the thought that stopped him. The thought was, what next? After Virdelko, what other General would be elevated to the command position tasked with managing military affairs in eastern North America? Truly it was a powerful position Virdelko held, and great care would be taken in selecting his successor.

            But yet, he knew who his successor would be: more of the same.

            Nothing would change. Virdelko would die, but nothing would be accomplished other than that he'd be free of guilt. It was cowardice, he thought, and it was shying from…from what? His responsibilities?

            The thought shocked him worse than anything else had, but at the same time it made perfect sense. He did have a responsibility. Killing himself would not be sufficient penance, for nature would kill him sooner than later anyway. If he wanted to truly pay for what he had done, to change things for the better…abandoning this power he had was not the way to go.

            It is all in the way I use it.

            Until now, Klementi Virdelko had used the power to hinder Reploid progress. But what if suddenly he reversed this course, pushing not for the restrictions that had resulted in all this but for something different, that might prevent this from happening again?

            If someone had told Virdelko years ago that he'd eventually support Reploid rights, he'd probably have shot him. But now, it seemed the only way to go. Restriction had been the policy of the Megacity System for a long time, and what had they to show for it? Four major uprisings and now nuclear mayhem? After all this, wasn't it up to someone to enough to admit they were wrong? That maybe restriction wasn't the way to go on everything?

            Virdelko stared at the pistol in his hands and a cold shiver shook him. He holstered the weapon as quickly as he could, falling against the wall to support himself in light of his suddenly weak knees. What had he almost done? He could never allow himself to seek that exit, not now. It would be a worse crime than everything he had already done.

            He knew full well what he was planning on getting himself into. His colleagues would not want to listen to what he would have to say, and much of the support he'd gathered throughout the years would erode, friends going with it. But without that, it wouldn't be much of a penance. And could it even be so bad? What was wrong with granting the same rights to everybody? Reploids were decidedly more dangerous physically than humans, but mentally they were equals. The world had lived with Reploids for years now, and if that wasn't time enough to adapt to their differences, that was tough.

            It was easier said than done, of course, but Virdelko didn't care. It was a reason to keep going, and he needed one of those at the moment. The only other option was the pistol in his holster, and the more he thought of it the less attractive that option really was.

            General Virdelko sat on his bed, closing his eyes. His exhaustion would only get worse, but for once it might yield some fruit that wasn't poisoned. He hoped it would be enough.

            The Megacity general wasn't the only one looking for a hold on life. Another figure wandered the streets of Megacity 5, streets that were far enough from the Gallagher attack zone to be in perfectly good shape. The Maverick insignia had been torn from his shoulder, and he was grateful for it. His bug-eyes and odd nature attracted enough attention, and Mavericks weren't exactly popular now.

            Greenback—he had dropped the "Barrier" from his name—walked in a very human way, despite how awkward it looked, not going anywhere in particular. His mind was miles from where he stood, and even his mind had no set destination.

            Since his fall from Gallagher, Greenback had concerned himself only with getting as far from the chaos as possible. He had never truly known fear until that moment, fleeing from his Hunter pursuers and leaving behind his comrades to their fates. What he knew was, he was not cracked up to be a Maverick. As a mechanic and engineer he had been delighted to see that his weapons worked, but until now he had never actually considered what the weapons did. Oh, he'd always known, but it had never really meant anything to him.

            "Stupid, stupid Greenback," he muttered, as mind and body briefly rejoined each other. "Should have known, should have known you was in over your big head."

            He curled into a crouch and cleared the street in a great hop, flying clear over the heads of several startled pedestrians and absently snagging a fly on the way. He landed on all fours, and remained there until he found somewhere else to leap. Everyone stared, and he hated that, so he ducked into an alley. He always felt safer in the shadows.

            He supposed he'd return to Steel Alley eventually. That was the only place he could call home. But once there he didn't know what he'd do. Despite his oddities, Greenback was very much a social creature. He enjoyed interactions with the few others who could stand him. With Revolver dead and stationmaster Cartwright under surveillance, however, he may well be out of luck there.

            "Revolver was big stupidhead anyway," Greenback sniffed, moving absently through the alleys. "Always talking about super duper dream. Greenback wishes he could kick Revolver in face. Would hurt, too. Wake Revolver up before he goes to kill himself on stupid dumb butt plan." Too late, he knew. If only things had gone a little differently.

            Greenback ambled into one of the darker streets in the district, a road lined mostly with bars and project housing. He took a grand leap to clear the street entirely, which was when he heard the voice split the night. It came from a bar further down the road, and stopped Greenback prematurely so that he came down hard on a garbage can.

            "THIS IS RAT PISS! RAT PISS, I TELL YOUUUUU!!!"

            Greenback freed his leg from the dumpster, blinking his big eyes and wondering if in fact he'd heard what he thought he'd just heard. Seconds later, however, the bar's door swung open and a skunk Reploid spilled out, rolling across the street in a rather pathetic display before coming awkwardly to his feet, attempting to look dignified but failing miserably. Next out the door was a big gorilla Reploid, who kept waving his arms and making longwinded excuses for his friend, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the bartender behind him wasn't listening, and was also jamming the happy end of a shotgun into his hairy back while screaming great obscenities.

            "And don't come back!" were the barkeep's last words before slamming the door shut behind him. The gorilla continued explaining things to thin air, apparently unaware that the bartender was gone.

            "FINE!" the skunk shouted back, knowing his voice could still be heard. "I'll tell them all! I'll tell them that you raise little rats for their urine and you drink it and that your MOTHER IS A BIG STINKY ANTELOPE FROM THE PLANET—"

            But the skunk never got to say what planet the bartender's mother was from, because the bartender burst through the door again and fired his shotgun into the air, while bellowing a war cry.

            "Oh noooo," the skunk wailed, grabbing the babbling gorilla and racing away from the bartender, who was cackling manically and lowering his shotgun to kill.

            A long, sticky tongue snapped the shotgun from the man's hands and smashed the weapon destructively against a wall on the return trip to Greenback's mouth. He let the remnants of the weapon hit the floor before leaping high into the air towards the bartender, who was looking around rabidly for the new enemy. He looked up and their eyes met, and time froze and both noticed it. Greenback hovered menacingly in the air, and the bartender glared right back. All they needed was the sunglasses.

            Before the bartender could do anything Greenback's tongue was out again, sweeping his legs out from under him. The bartender landed flat on his back and Greenback touched down behind him, fixing the human with a big goofy grin. "Moodi."

            "What?" the bartender asked in confusion.

            "That's what planet she's from. Moodi. You know," Greenback's gaping smile grew wider. "Where the druggie smurfs sing their song of happy joy and camels moo and Wingdings is the official spoken language and where the towels are oh so fluffy!"

            The bartender blinked twice before letting out a shriek of pure and utter horror. He scrambled to his feet and rushed into the safety of his bar, wailing something about the end of the world. Greenback watched, then broke into a full cacophony of throaty laughter. That was fun.

            But he had work yet to do. Swinging like Spider-Man on building walls with his tongue, Greenback traversed the distance between himself and the fleeing misfits, landing directly in front of them as they continued their mad dash to safety. "Wotcher!"

            "AHH!" the skunk shrieked, backing up into the still babbling gorilla. "G-get away! I am a highly trained—hic—combat specialist who can count to—hic—twelve!"

            "Hey," the gorilla finally said, realizing they were not at the bar anymore. "Where are we going?"

            "Away from him, Ludwig!" the skunk growled at Greenback. "Away from—hey, you're not the—hic—bartender!"

            "And you is drunk, Pierre," Greenback grinned at his old friends. "Greenback is wise in these things."

            "Gree…GREENBACK!" Pierre seemed to sober up as simply as one could snap their fingers. "By the Stuff, it is you!"

            "Whoa!" Ludwig boomed, his eyes and mouth gaping comically. "It's Greenback, Pierre! Look!" Ludwig even pointed, so Pierre would not miss him.

            Greenback couldn't quite believe his luck. He remembered Pierre and Ludwig from when they'd come to work at Cartwright's station. They'd been fired after one of them had developed the bright idea of stealing and selling the railroad tracks, but Greenback had spent as much time with them as possible. They made him feel normal. There were many questions to be asked, but Greenback started with the one that grated on him the most: "How have you two not died by now?"

            "Ah, well!" Pierre said proudly, taking a dramatic pose. "We are wise in the ways of everything—"

            "Especially booze!" Ludwig interjected brightly.

            "—Especially booze," Pierre agreed. "That is, when some shitmonkey like that isn't trying to sell us rat piss."

            "Hee hee!" Ludwig giggled. He thought "shitmonkey" was hilarious.

            "What about you, pal?" Pierre asked eagerly. "What have you been doing all these years?"

            Greenback frowned. He wasn't sure he wanted to burden them with the truth. "Greenback was making things," he said with a shrug. "Things that Greenback thought were important."

            "Be more pacific!" Ludwig requested. "Pierre says I'm not the sharpest drawer in the knife!"

            "I rest my case," the skunk muttered.

            "Not much more than that," Greenback elaborated innocently.

            "Mm. Well Greenback," Pierre said, clapping the frog on his shoulder, where so recently a Maverick insignia had rested. "We don't know where we're goin', but hey, we never do. If ya wanna come along, it'd be great!"

            "Grrrrreat!" Ludwig piped up, in his best Tony the Tiger voice.

            The frog blinked. "You'd let Greenback come along?"

            "Hell yeah! Think of all the fun shit we'll mess up!" Pierre seemed to like the idea more and more as he went along. "We could be like the Three Musketeers, only they were pansies with dumb hats."

            "What about the Three Gorillas, Skunks and Frogs?" Ludwig offered, very seriously.

            "Why do you get to go first?" was Pierre's equally serious response.

            Greenback would have hugged them if it weren't so anatomically awkward. If he was going to be a misfit for the rest of his life, he couldn't think of two better people to be a misfit with. "Where are we going now?"

            "Eh, we can crash at our place for tonight," Pierre said easily. Then he perked up as though it were Christmas. "We still got some of the Stuff left over!"

            "OOOO!" Ludwig clapped his hands together.

            "What's the Stuff?" Greenback tilted his big head in curiosity.

            Both Pierre and Ludwig stood staring openmouthed at their friend, as though they'd just heard him say, "I like to do calculus."

            "He does not know of the Stuff and its ways," Pierre said in horror.

            "He must be edumacated," Ludwig said in equal shock. "You're being deprivied!"

            "What?" Greenback croaked, feeling as if he'd just committed some mortal sin.

            "Come!" Pierre said, straightening like some military commander and marshalling Greenback in the direction of his "place", Ludwig close behind. "No longer shall you walk in darkness, friend Greenback! For tonight you shall partake of the Stuff, and you shall see the light!"

            For Greenback, the eventual realization that his new companions worshipped Pixie Sticks would come as the first of no less than a million surprises in a life full of twists, turns, madness and absolute incredulity in the eyes of anyone sane. Frankly, he couldn't have asked for anything more, and wondered why he'd ever settled for anything less.

            The district hospital was quite massive, and reminded Delates of the Hunter Headquarters itself. In here were all the sick and weary from the sizable population of this sector of the sprawling Megacity 5, but they only took up about three fourths of the space. The rest of it, and that was a sizable chunk, was devoted to laboratories and the experiments conducted within, as scientists and doctors searched for new ways to deal with life's ailments.

            The emerald Hunter strolled into the lobby, which struck him as entirely too quiet a place. He knew that the wounded were being airlifted to the helipad on the roof, and that the only people coming in the front doors were going to be visitors, and at this hour that made for very few people, but there was still shock at jumping from the hustle and bustle of the HQ to this somber house of medicine.

            Castle and Tyclammel flanked him as they entered, and at the sight of the ebon guerilla two figures rose from chairs in which they'd been quietly lounging. One was a human with a strong build, and the other a ruby Reploid with an even more massive physique.

            "Henry, Dantz," Castle greeted them with a tired nod. "How are things?"

            "I'm sorry about Stromm," Delates said to Henry Wallace before the guerilla could reply.

            Wallace just shook his head. "He did what we all would have done."

            "This place quieted down, and they're just about finished with the new arrivals." Dantz's deep voice seemed booming even in this low tone. "Signas will be here soon, probably with Caligula."

            Castle nodded. Unit 8 was probably the only unit to which Caligula's presence was a comfort. The guerillas were considered by some to be the military arm of the Invisible Men…which wasn't entirely a false assumption, since Unit 8's members made up the core of Caligula's Aegis squad, a squad which Damia was actually co-Commander of, though she and Caligula had kept that even more secret than the existence of the unit itself.

            Delates wanted to ask them about their Commander, but he didn't have to waste his breath. Dantz knew exactly why Zero's second was there and didn't make him wait any longer. "Damia is, for the moment, out of surgery."

            "For the moment?" Castle asked, his worries plain.

            "They just got her internals back together," Wallace said with a shiver. "That was the worst part of it."

            "She'll need a grafting operation, but that'll be it." Dantz smiled, though without much triumph. "It'll soon be over."

            "The hell it will be," Castle growled, his anger taking him again. "The bastard who did this'll pay."

            "Thought he already did," Wallace frowned. "Damia herself got him." Delates looked up. It was news to him.

            "That was just Kuwangner." Castle clenched and unclenched his fists, not bothering to keep the poison out of his voice or eyes. "There was another little prick there when we showed up, some fruit in a red coat. I don't know where he ran to but by God he better hope we never find him."

            "Oh we will," Dantz said flatly, and the tone of his voice made it a declaration of fact, not some empty sentence.

            Delates himself had been quiet. He was angry, yes, but he had more important things on his mind. "Can I see her?"

            "Actually, you might be able to." Wallace nodded to the elevator. "Last I heard Cal was sending one of his people to talk to her."

            "So soon after the operations?" Tyclammel frowned, and Delates knew why. Even through the painkillers she would be in a world of hurt.

            "She wanted to do it," Dantz explained, with the faintest hint of a grin. That would be their commander, and it meant that the Mavericks had not broken her.

            Delates left Castle with his comrades and went with Tyclammel to the elevator. They were fairly silent on the way up, both reorienting themselves to being someplace full of people who didn't want to kill them. They emerged into the proper level and found things to be predictably chaotic, but not overly so. Nurses and doctors rushed here and there to help with the few critical cases remaining, but by and large things were complete. By the time Delates found a help desk it had been about an hour since his return from the Catskills. In that time he imagined they could have reattached X's arm and fixed his other injuries, explaining Signas' pending visit. Zero might take a little longer, since the crimson warrior had been smashed rather solidly by Sigma after the Maverick King had gone "a little apeshit," to use Zero's words. He didn't know how Zero had managed to survive, and his boss wasn't telling.

            After learning the room number he started in its direction. Along the way he saw several Reploids he knew, including Shadin from X's unit. She was fast asleep and looked whole, which given the descriptions of what had happened to her was a relief. Next they found Cort, who in sharp contrast was sitting lazily up in bed reading a newspaper covering the previous two days' events. Apparently Gerritt's bullets had been removed from his chest already, and he was progressing quite nicely.

            Tyclammel stayed to bring Cort up to speed, leaving Delates alone as he approached Damia's room. The door opened before he got there, and a human he identified as Alan Seitz exited. That surprised Delates, because he'd seen Seitz back at the base. How had he gotten here so much earlier? He put it out of mind—the spooks had about a trillion tricks up their sleeves—and nodded to Seitz, who nodded back and went on his tired way. Delates slipped in quietly and closed the door behind him.

            What he saw was not quite as bad as the mental image he'd projected. He didn't know exactly what had been done to her, but the various machines hooked up to her midsection implied that at least a few of her internals needed a jumpstart. Blankets covered her lower half but from the waist up she was naked save for a chestplate for decency. He smiled as he imagined her raging about being seen in such a way, though now she probably had more important things to worry about.

            She hadn't quite gone under yet and her eyes opened slowly when he took her hand, crouching next to the bed. He felt sick at seeing the lines of pain etched in her face, but the look in her eyes was ten times worse. Then she recognized him, and it was like switching on a light. A gasp of pure relief escaped her lips and her head lolled towards him. He wanted to crush her in a full embrace, but had to settle with cradling that head against his own, kissing her forehead and running his hand through her hair in as soothing a gesture as he could muster. He was surprised to feel tears on her cheeks, but if anything it made him all the more relieved to be alive and with her. "You get into the most interesting situations, babe…"

            She murmured something inaudible, and then dropped her voice to a whisper, but the whisper he could understand. "Enemy…?"

            Delates smiled, squeezing her hand tighter and feeling her respond in turn. "We got him."

            The smile that played across her face was weak, but a smile nonetheless. "Me too."

            He kissed her again, brushing the tears away as she turned her head to look him in the eye. There was joy there, but far too much pain behind it. "You're gonna be all right," he assured her, hoping his own eyes conveyed the conviction.

            She hesitated for a minute, and he didn't know if it was from reluctance of if it just took that long to gather the breath. "Don't go."

            He doubted if she'd ever said that to anyone before. "I'm staying right here," he promised, clenching her hand all the more. "I'm not leaving this damn hospital till they let you out."

            She smiled again, looking more at peace then than he'd ever seen her despite the shivers that had begun to take her. He could see she was in pain and began coaxing her into sleep, whispering softly and lightly scratching her head. He didn't stop until well after she'd slipped under the haze of medications and exhaustion. She'd never needed anyone like this before and he'd be damned if he left her hanging. Above that, though, there was a sense that he was doing something right. He felt he'd failed two of his comrades, but at least he could still succeed with this one. It'd be a victory better than beating Sigma, in Delates' view, and he'd make damn sure he won it.

            Vulcan found the hospital to be quite oppressive. Given the nature of the images that plagued him, being in a place where people regularly died helplessly didn't do much for his psyche.

            It did help talking to Krysta, who was painfully awake but awake nonetheless. Her repairs had gone off without a hitch, but she still claimed to feel fire where Scythe's weapon had pierced her side. Rykov had left them to get something to drink, and it didn't take Krysta long to notice that she wasn't the only one wounded. "What's wrong with you, Vulcan?"

            At first he just laughed. Then his face took on a look that was almost desperate. "I don't know."

            She listened as he told, in painful detail, the story of what had happened during the fight with Tetra, and she shivered as she began to understand what the problem was. "What exactly are you afraid of?"

            "I'm not really afraid of anything," he said, fumbling for an explanation. "It just…disturbs me and I can't get away from it."

            "We have counselors," she suggested. "We have them because you're not the only one this happens to. People get over it."

            "Some don't," Vulcan pointed out, shuddering slightly. For a second he saw himself as one of those broken down old former soldiers, huddling in some alley somewhere and jumping whenever he heard a loud noise.

            "But you will," Krysta said forcefully, resting her hand on his. "Rykov and I will make sure of that."

            "How…?"

            "Friends find ways." She smiled. "Don't worry about it, man. We just won an uprising. Things'll get a hell of a lot better before they get worse, and I'll be here for ya if you need help along the way."

            Vulcan wanted to believe her about things getting better, but something stopped him. He knew he'd be facing a hard battle, but he hoped it would be a short one. All he needed to do, he told himself, was to adapt himself to peacetime. Once he changed gears, he would be fine. Once he started living a normal life, the images had to go away. Didn't they?

            "Don't worry," she said, grinning. "When I get out of here we'll go do something totally irresponsible. It'll get your mind right back on track."

            That did make him smile. It was, for a second, normalcy. "What would I do without you?"

            Krysta smiled. "Let's hope you never have to answer that one."

            Despite the promised radioactive fallout, the skies of Megacity 5 were far from quiet.

            Two Raven jets sped over the sleeping city, part of a task force assigned to catalogue any and all activity going on below. Caligula had requested the mission, and Commander Taggart had given the okay, though with him in the hospital control had fallen to Alec.

            The pilot had no room left for rage. He'd already taken all his anger out on those bastards who'd invaded the HQ. But that didn't stop his determination. The nuclear blast had destroyed Taggart's sight. That meant that because of these Maverick bastards, Alec's commander had been blinded—and thus, he had been grounded. They were also the same bastards who'd killed Carlos Delgado. To say there was nothing personal going on here would be a lie.

            Several of the Ravens had shot out to the Catskills, chasing down straggler Mavericks fleeing the base and gunning them down. Alec had declined to participate in this slaughter, opting instead to work with Bale in coordinating the requested recon flight. They didn't know exactly what they were looking for, but they did spend a lot of time on the city outskirts. Taggart had suggested they pay careful attention to any vehicles, especially groups of them, but they were far more interested in the people. Groups of people were uncommon at this hour, but given the events most of them were out there for reasonable reasons. What Alec was looking for was signs of a command post, someplace out of the ordinary people kept going to and leaving on a regular basis. He imagined that groups of Mavericks would try to cluster together before attempting to flee, but after Caligula announced that the Gold Serpent might be involved, Alec had to watch more than just the Reploids. So far there had been no signs of trouble, but he collected the needed information nonetheless, mostly through pictures. He didn't know how, but the Invisible Men had a habit of taking shots of random stuff and discerning everything from ammo dumps to enemy base locations out of them, and usually they were on target.

            "I tell ya, Al," Bale's voice came into the communicator, "it'd be a lot easier if they all wore the insignia."

            "Don't call me Al," Tremont replied absently. "And yeah, it would, but it'd take the fun out of it."

            "Fun?" Bale sighed, taking his Raven around for a pass of the 7th district. "Well, if you're the kind who likes watching paint dry…"

            "Don't knock it till you've tried it." Alec sighed himself. This was going to take all night, but he didn't entirely mind. It gave him time to think, and that was what he needed now more than anything. Taggart knew he would be out of commission, and all signs indicated that Alec would be the one to replace him. Though he was a career fighter pilot, Alec had to wonder whether or not he was capable of such an office. He was all right blowing stuff up, but a leader?

            Well, he'd shown decent leadership back there, he admitted. If he hadn't mobilized the grounded pilots as quickly as he had, many of his friends would be dead. That had to count for something. And he already helped Taggart with a number of managerial duties. There was, of course, the chance he was being overly presumptuous and someone else would be asked to lead the unit. That would be just fine and dandy with Alec, who much preferred blowing stuff up to management any day.

            Whatever the case, his mission now was simple, and the battle looked to be won. It'd be great, he knew, to settle back into his trouble-causing routine. He certainly hoped Vulcan would be sane enough to participate. According to Rykov, the poor bastard had gone crackers.

            "Well, that's nothing a few shrinks and a bottle of whiskey can't fix," the pilot thought aloud, turning his aircraft for another run and smiling as he felt the freedom of the sky. He did a quick midair roll—he had the record for the most rolls in a row—and allowed himself to enjoy the ride. He was a pilot in the sky—the problems of the grounded world had ceased to matter.

            The grounded world certainly had its share of problems, though, and many of these problems were gathering in a warehouse on the outskirts of Sub-City 5, Megacity 5's farthest-reaching "suburb". The lights were out, but the building did not sleep. No one entered the place from the front door, but passerby disappeared unnoticed from the alley behind the big structure, having darted into a hidden back entrance.

            In one large room on the uppermost level, a short blue Reploid typed away at a computer. His face was etched into one big frown, but not one of overt worry. He was simply busy—busier than he'd been in a long time. Their operation hadn't gone off as well as planned, but there was still a destabilization within the government and the Hunters, and now was the time to act.

            The diminutive Reploid, Guyver, was the man who'd set up Malevex and Gredam with hacker Scythe a way long time ago. He was the one who'd gathered the information about Zero and Signas visiting Sub-City 3 and sold the info to the Mavericks. Even before that, he'd been in charge of recruiting Cassius and masterminding the theft of X74-Marauder from Alden Base. Because of these successes, Guyver was considered by most in the Gold Serpent network to be Kou Cao's right hand man, and in a sense they were right. Guyver had never seen the Serpent's real form, but had met the man on a number of occasions. Now, Guyver was hard at work coordinating mass theft.

            The point of the nuclear attacks, so far as the Serpent network was concerned, had been to destabilize the authorities enough for a series of thefts and raids to take place, fattening the pockets of the Serpent's allies and those he wished to have as allies while at the same time striking hard at Megacity 5's wallet. Guyver knew the authorities would be out for his blood, but they didn't know who in particular he was or where he was situated, so he hardly cared. By and large the operation was over, since the Hunters and the Army had begun to collect themselves, but Guyver still had a lot of loose ends to tie up. So far, however, he considered the operation a success. All that remained was this one last meeting.

            "He's late."

            Guyver just sighed, not bothering to visually acknowledge the other presence in the room. "You can bitch at him when he gets here, if you want. I won't stop ya. Could use the entertainment, actually."

            "I respect the powers of organization," the gruff voice countered. It belonged to a big Reploid in green armor leaning against the wall, both bored and nervous. "The brass will be organized shortly enough. You think they won't have some way to track your computer?"

            "They might," Guyver said dryly, "if I wasn't such a frickin' genius." He finished a command and turned to look at the other Reploid, a mercenary who he'd just recently lured into the network. "And you've got a lotta wind, for someone in your position."

            "My…position was just fine until you butted in."

            "I know. Now it's even better." Guyver smiled mercilessly. "The Hunters know who you are, and if they don't they'll soon find out. The Brazilian captives will sing like canaries. No honor among thieves, you know?"

            "I know," the Breaker growled. "And I'm supposed to be thankful for your protection?"

            "No, you're supposed to be grateful for my protection, but far more so for the fun and exciting jobs I'm about to offer you." The voice was new, and both heads turned to the door. Guyver stood up, and the Breaker followed suit, not fully knowing why.

            Two figures had entered, both of them in coats. The first was an older looking Reploid in a red lab coat, and he looked very pleased about something. The second, the one who'd spoken, was a tall figure in a heavy gray coat that covered most of his person. Guyver had seen him before, though he'd never heard the voice from within used so easily. "Kou, welcome back."

            "You mean…" the Breaker blinked. "Oh."

            "Yes, that's the usual reaction." The Gold Serpent then did something that shocked the bejesus out of everyone present—he unbuttoned his coat and cast the thing off, followed by the black hat that had shaded his face. Now visible was an imposing Reploid in jagged black armor with a blueish gem set in the center of his helmet. "What? Is there something in my teeth?"

            "No, no sir," Guyver stopped staring.

            "Good." The Serpent gestured to the bearded figure in red. "Boot up a computer, Volvar, I want to see what you've got." He then turned to Guyver personally. "My name is Chartreuse. I tell you this because you'll be hearing it a lot from the authorities." There was no sign of reaction from anyone present. None of them knew who Chartreuse was, which suited the Serpent perfectly fine.

            The implications of revealing his name to Guyver were not lost on his lieutenant. As Guyver had said, there was no honor among thieves. If they had learned quietly of the Serpent's identity, which had somehow been exposed, they could have used it to buy allies against the now-targetable crime boss. However, Chartreuse had just negated that possibility. "How did things go on your end?"

            "Not as well as I'd hoped, but well enough." Chartreuse took a seat, stretching mightily. "First and most importantly, Icarus is gone. This is a major victory. It was the Army's central database for Megacity 5. We'll own this place by the time they get everything back online. As for the Hunter base, things could have gone better, but they'll be out of commission long enough that we shouldn't have to worry about them in the near future. Reports also indicate that the Hunters have done me the tremendous favor of eliminating those pawns of mine. They would have been hard loose ends to get rid of." He could have gone on and on about how satisfying it was to know that those bastards who'd slipped through his fingers years ago were now dead, but it would have been lost on these three. "What about you?"

            "I'd say we have ourselves an empire," Guyver said, failing to hide his pride. "We made a lot of friends with this one…powerful friends. Sub-groups are springing up all over the Megacity System, wanting ties to our central network."

            "Excellent." Chartreuse pressed his fingertips together. "Another stunt like this and we'll really hit it big."

            "You have something in mind?"

            "Not really, but we have lists of options available to us. What we just did was once just a long shot idea, like all the others. We'll take a look at what's economically feasible when things settle down a bit." He let his vision drift to the Breaker, who'd been waiting patiently. "And this is…?"

            "He's a mercenary the Mavericks hired to maintain their Brazilian base," Guyver said, not allowing any emotion to seep into his voice. "He failed."

            "I had the Brazilian Army and the Hunter forces crashing down on me," the Breaker growled. "I took steps to destroy the Hunter commander, but it happened too late to be of real use. Besides, it was Split Mushroom's fool self who was running the show. I just handled perimeter security."

            "And you're good?" the Serpent asked pointedly.

            "I…I'm held in high regard by certain organizations," the mercenary allowed.

            "We'll see how you do in mine. If you accept, that is."

            The Breaker blinked. "I accept. What do you have?"

            "Oh, I'm sure something will come up." Chartreuse smiled with some amusement at the Breaker's reaction. "Don't worry. You'll be compensated enough for whatever you do that the jobs you missed in between won't matter. Provided you succeed, of course."

            "Of course," the Breaker replied quietly, sitting back in some amazement.

            "Volvar!" Chartreuse rose and strode over to Kuwangner's partner. "What have you for me?"

            Doc Volvar was relieved beyond words. Not only had he managed to evade fierce Hunter pursuit, but he'd also managed to complete the task Kou Cao had given him. That meant more jobs and, probably, refuge. He was also proud of his work, and it showed. He'd been a Maverick for a long time, but unlike most of that bunch his loyalty was more to his work than to Sigma. He'd accepted the Serpent's offer to pay him to develop a new torture method, working with Boomer Kuwangner to produce enough results to merit a perfected technique.

            "More or less," he began, "it's a different form of the truth serum. Since it's uncommon that people have the serum in the field, this works just as well, despite the mess." He smiled slightly. "You need to restrain the victim very well. In this case we used a neuralizing device to paralyze the victim's motor skills. These things are easy enough to carry, but even if you don't have one it's all good. Just make sure they can't move, or you're dead." He shuddered, having already heard what had happened to Kuwangner. The biggest insult was that that bitch was probably still alive. "There is a point when the Reploid body is in so much pain that the mind cannot occupy itself with anything but the realization of that pain. This is when you ask your questions, dulling the pain enough so the victim can hear you and letting them know that the pain will end when they speak. It's that old self-preservation thing again—they don't even realize they're saying anything."

            "You've tested this?" Chartreuse frowned, staring at the grid on Volvar's computer.

            "Yes. We didn't allow our victim a chance to say anything, but given the readings there was definitely a point where she would have said anything we wanted her to say, whether she realized it or not." The doctor shrugged. "You can achieve this level of pain in several ways. The traditional Surgers would work well, I imagine. I did it by opening the victim's belly and electrocuting the inside of an internal organ."

            Guyver looked sick; even Chartreuse shivered. "Well, it's…direct, I suppose…"

            "Very." The ruthless doctor smiled. "Don't worry, she deserved it."

            "I hope," Guyver said with no small amount of bewilderment, shaking his head. "It'd be a bit rude otherwise, wouldn't it?"

            "You better hope she died, mate," Chartreuse said, somewhat amused by a thought to the contrary.

            "That'd be the reason I'm keeping a low profile."

            The Serpent straightened up and smiled. "Good. Reploids have been known to perform an internal systems flush before truth serum can take hold and thus escape its effects, but this wouldn't give them much of a chance, would it? I think we can find a safe haven for you, Doc, if you'd like to try your hand at other…projects?"

            "Sounds like fun."

            "Nice." Chartreuse allowed himself another, more private smile. He'd allowed himself to despair once during this campaign, when the first Buzzbomb had failed to destroy the Hunter Headquarters. Now, however, it seemed like things were going to turn out quite well. That left him a new opening. The authorities would be reorganizing, but so would he, and he with his longer reach he'd be able to try something even more daring next time.

            "Is that all?" Guyver asked, sitting back at his computer.

            "No, we're still waiting on someone else." Chartreuse checked his internal timer.

            "Another grunt?" Guyver guessed.

            "Yes, I hired him personally. I liked his attitude." Chartreuse would have said more, but the door opened cautiously to admit a Reploid in blue and black armor with white hair. "And here he is now."

            "Am I late?" Dynamo asked sheepishly, stepping into the faint light cast by Guyver's computer. "Sorry…bag ladies are killer this time of night."

            Mega Man X stared at the white ceiling for ten full minutes before he finally worked up the motivation to move.

            First to twitch was his head, rolling from right to left to survey his surroundings. Everything came quickly and easily back to him and he examined his reattached arm, flexing the fingers and smiling at the realization that everything seemed to be in proper working order. It was sore as hell, but he could live with that.

            He knew he wasn't supposed to sit up in a hospital bed but he did it anyway, feeling very dizzy as the aftereffects of the tranks used to put him under took hold. He sat still for a while, clearing his head, and gave the command for his internal systems to cleanse themselves. This would neutralize the painkillers, but he wanted to be fully awake now, just like after every other Maverick battle.

            His shoulder hurt like a monster, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He had a bit of a headache, but other than that he was fine. A bit of worry fluttered through his mind as he thought of all the other Hunters he knew, wondering if they were still alive—again, something that happened after every uprising.

            His thoughts ultimately rested on Zero. X exhaled slowly as the obedient part of his personality raged at the thought of nuclear terrorists on the loose, but he put the thought down with far greater ease than he had in Seraph Castle. He understood what Zero had been doing, and he didn't exactly think he had much to fear from the Terrornova cadre anymore. As far as Zero himself, he was reminding X more and more of the Zero who'd once rescued him from Vile's wrath—calm, collected, and confident. X had only been with Zero a few minutes after the Sigma battle, but in that short time his friend, though badly hurt, had conveyed an attitude that X hadn't seen from him since Final Weapon went down.

            So Zero has changed, the champion Hunter thought, resting his hands on the edge of the bed and arching his stiff back. What about me? X had always hated killing, but he was sorry to admit that he'd become used to it. War after war after war had made the act of destroying Mavericks just an everyday occurrence. In the past, his heart would have leapt at the possibility of giving an enemy a second chance. Now, though, he had been wholeheartedly against such a thing. I have changed, he realized. For the worse. Is it too late for me to change back…?

            A nurse entered the room, and after blinking in annoyed surprise at the sight of her charge sitting haphazardly on the edge of the bed she spoke. "I have a Signas and a Caligula, requesting to see you." Clearly she didn't like the idea of admitting visitors so soon.

            X made her frown deeper. "Please, send them in." She left with a bit of a huff, and a minute later they entered—Signas, the big, heavily armored strategist and the shorter Caligula, his heavy brown coat trailing to his ankles. "You called, sir?"

            "If you're not feeling up to this yet…"

            "I'm fine," he assured the Grand Commander. "You two have a lot to do, so what do you need to know?"

            Caligula smiled. He liked when things moved fast. "Just give us the lowdown on Seraph Castle. Anything we may need to know."

            X did. He told them of their infiltration, the battles with Bit and Byte and Feldspar's demise. He related what he'd heard from Delates, that they had split off from X and fallen into a trap laid by a team of Mavericks. After their escape, they attempted to plant bombs at the core level only to be attacked by the same Mavericks, this time led by Sigma himself. Lyon had suffered a fatal wound, but managed to set the final bombs while the others dealt with Sigma's last line of defense, an armored humanoid behemoth that Lyon ultimately sacrificed himself to defeat.

            Next came X's own story, which required a little doctoring. He'd entered the second ring and destroyed Cyber Peacock. Next had come a battle with the Maverick kingpin called Mortar, who'd died when his ride armor went haywire. Here Zero reunited with him after eliminating another of the terrorists, and together they'd destroyed Malevex, the base commander, and Gredam, who'd been gathering supplies for the troops occupying the Hunter Headquarters. Sigma had been next. The Maverick King had attempted to flee in the Marauder ride armor with a spare warhead, but Zero had stopped him after a wild chase. By the time X had caught up, Sigma was dead and Zero lay badly wounded. He left out the part about the viral attack on his friend, figuring it'd do more harm than good.

            Signas nodded, but Caligula raised an eyebrow. "Is that all…?"

            X blinked. He really was easy to read. But he wasn't overly worried, because the truth about Terrornova wasn't the only thing he'd left out. "Actually, there was something else. I don't wholly understand it, but you should probably hear about it." He shifted his weight into a more comfortable position. "Have either of you heard about a Reploid named 'Ares' before?" Signas shook his head and Caligula just frowned.

            "Right, well…" X took a breath, trying to figure out how best to explain it. "We fought Bit and Byte once and managed to take Bit almost totally out of commission. When he reappeared, however, he—and Byte—were both, like, superpowerful. They talked about someone named Ares giving them their new strengths. What I imagine happened is, somehow their internal systems were accelerated far beyond what they should normally have been able to handle."

            "That's impossible," Caligula pointed out. "The Reploid in question would suffer a systems meltdown, unless there were a way to stabilize them during the procedure, and no one has yet found a way to do that."

            "But what if someone has?" X shrugged. "I don't know the details, but something made those two a lot more powerful than they ever were before. And that was without the armor."

            "Armor?" Signas asked.

            "They weren't the only ones affiliated with this Ares. Cyber Peacock was as well." X felt his body ache as he remembered that fight. "Cyber was…'converted' after I defeated him the first time, and had received new armor in the meantime. Apparently he got new weapons as well, because he had some incredible attacks…far more powerful than he should have been able to muster. I still defeated him, but it was way too close." He paused a second before going on. "Then I…talked to him."

            "Who?" Caligula pressed. "Ares?"

            "Yeah. I don't know how, but he projected his voice into the arena. From what he said, I started thinking two things. The first was that he can remotely connect to a Reploid's systems…somehow. The second was that he is definitely up to something big."

            Signas blinked, completely unsure what to make of this. Caligula was no different, though his mind was clearly racing. "What you're saying, X…it goes beyond what all modern technology dreams of. I mean, I'm not saying you're wrong but as to whether or not you're right…this is gonna take a long time to examine."

            "Especially since we don't have any real leads," X added, somewhat apologetically. "I just thought someone oughta be aware of this."

            "I'll talk to you more about this later," the intelligence chief said, standing. "For now I think I have enough. If you'll excuse me, sirs." He nodded, his version of a salute, and left.

            "He's going to wear himself out," Signas observed, watching the spook leave.

            "Nah, he lives for these kinds of things," X smiled. "What about you? You look pretty worn out yourself."

            The Hunter general sighed. "Long, long week."

            "Tell me about it." X cracked his knuckles, and immediately regretted it as the nerves in his newly attached arm freaked out. "How are you handling the command aspect?"

            Signas blinked, unsure what to say. He was pretty sure where X was going with this, but wasn't sure he wanted to go there. "It's certainly a burden."

            "You can't save them all."

            "I know."

            "Do you?"

            Signas blinked again, a little defensive but at the same time knowing X was right. "It's a hard lesson to learn."

            "Isn't it?" X smiled sadly, staring back up at the ceiling. "Everyone expects so much of you…"

            "And you can't give them everything they want."

            "Yeah." The blue Hunter shook his head. "But you can't beat yourself up over it."

            "Oh I can't?" Signas said, with a faint smile.

            "Well…you shouldn't. Nothing good will ever come of it."

            "I know, X…I'll learn all these things in time, I'm sure."
            "Just so long as it doesn't affect your performance. This was a victory here, not a defeat."

            Signas nodded. "Thank you. And I doubt my performance is going to be hampered by this at all."

            It was X's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You're up to something."

            "Maybe." Signas shrugged. "It'll depend on where we stand once we've reorganized ourselves. Then you'll hear more about it. It's a bit drastic, but if it works we shouldn't have to worry about…well, this."

            X allowed himself to smile. Try as the Mavericks might, it didn't seem like they were going to cripple the Hunters anytime soon.

            "I should be going," Signas said, standing. "You'll know where to find me."

            "Likewise." X saluted as he exited, and thought Signas definitely carried more of a command presence than he had earlier. That was infinitely good. If all the Hunters could respect him as they had Cain, the future might not be so bleak, after all.

            With nothing better to do X laid back down in his bed. He was amazed at how tired he was, and before long he was drifting. He didn't always dream, but he did tonight, and it seemed somehow…more than a dream.

            There were faces…all of them he knew. They were his comrades, his friends. He saw Zero, Delates, Damia, Archer, Mason, Zegmann, Zion and others, and on another side Signas, Caligula, and Alia. They seemed confused. Something was wrong, but no one knew what. Then someone entered—it was Lifesaver, carrying a bloody body…it was…

            "Cain," X's ethereal self breathed. That was when things went totally out of control. Explosions rocked the area. Screams erupted from the ranks as all manner of attacks began to fall. There was a bright flash and X fell to the ground in pain. When the light cleared, all he could see was death. Damia lay in pieces on the ground. Delates rushed to her aid, then screamed as something impaled him from behind. X turned away to see Archer beheaded and Mason fighting desperately before something took his own head off. X darted to his feet, searching for a target but finding none. Enraged, he called out a challenge, but all he saw was Zero slumped against a wall, bleeding profusely and clinging to whatever seconds of life he had left. He rushed towards his friend, and all of a sudden there was Alia, lying broken at his feet. He tripped over her and when he looked up he saw the others, lying dead in a circle.

            Before X had a chance to wonder how they'd gotten there, a thunderous pounding racked his brain. He heard what he could equate only to a dragon's roar, and through the hellish noise he began to discern words.

            You have chosen the path of the warrior, but yet your goal is to undermine war. You, Mega Man X, are the worst of traitors.

            The Hunter raised his head and beheld five figures, wreathed in shadow. Flames blazed around them, likely of their own making, while the central figure, a massive cluster of flowing darkness with a presence far more powerful than anything X had ever encountered, spoke directly to his victim's mind.

            For you and those close to you, the penalty will be horrific. You may expect retribution soon, Mega Man X. There is no escape from war.

            The world around X shuddered, and his real eyes flew open. He sat bolt upright in his bed, feeling a cold sweat but not the least bit intimidated. He had just been challenged. But he had been challenged many times, and always he had triumphed. Besides, to threaten him was one thing. But no one threatened his friends and lived.

            "Bring it on, Ares," the Hunter whispered fiercely to the night. "We'll be waiting."

            Life. For some, it was linear, plain and uneventful. For him, it had been one wild curve after another, each time setting him on a new course that was more dangerous than the one before it. Though each turn brought with it new pains and new sorrows, it also brought new joys. This time, thankfully, there was for once more of the latter than the former.

            He thought of his first days of sentience, when Cain had arranged for him to be trained in all the finest arts of combat. He thought of his first friends, Gradient and Mea. He thought of the time spent with Commander Sigma, then a trusted mentor and charismatic leader. Then he thought of Mea's death, the first domino in the first chain of bad luck. Sigma had brutally betrayed them, and Gradient had died stopping him. Were it not for a little blue Hunter named X, the Mavericks would have owned the earth.

            But it had been of little consolation to him, because he himself had died. His revival had been surprisingly swift, but in horrible circumstances. He'd escaped, however, and so began a change for the better, a surge of the positive that had carried him well through Doppler's uprising. He thought of new friends and new opportunities. Colonel had become the fellow soldier X had never wanted to be, and Iris… But then there came the worst fall of them all, and only he had been standing at the end, coated in their blood. Now, though, the blood was gone, washed away by a simple yet incredibly difficult act of mercy that had opened infinite amounts of new doors.

            Zero's eyes opened very slowly, letting the light invade his world little by little. He knew where he was and why he was there, and was glad none of the memories had escaped from his mind as a result of his injuries. It took a while to make out images, but when he could he blinked in surprise at the figure sitting in the corner of the room. "Doc…?"

            "There are times, Zero, when I wonder how you can possibly still be alive," Doctor Cain said with an unconcealed grin. "Then I remember who you are."

            "Aw, come on…" Zero smiled back at his mentor. "We both know about my mad skills…you shouldn't even have to worry."

            "Sue me." Cain looked more relieved than Zero had ever seen him. "X is fine, and so are all the others. We sustained casualties here, but Signas overestimated the number."

            "We lost two…two of my guys." Zero blinked, somewhat in shock. "That's four of them gone in something that probably won't even be labeled an official uprising."

            "It happens, and you know it." Cain frowned and leaned forward on his walking staff. "But as long as Seraph Castle is gone, they did not die in vain."

            "Oh, it's gone." Zero allowed himself a smile. "Sigma with it."

            "I really thought he was going to sit this one out," Cain admitted. "I mean, I knew he'd be back someday, but it just seemed like he was going to leave this one in the hands of others while he…got stronger, or something like that."

            "He did, and we still beat him."

            Cain tilted his head slightly. Zero's mood was getting more and more upbeat. "You met the 'others', then?"

            "I did. They won't be a problem anymore," Zero said simply. He knew that may not be true, but he still had no problem saying it without fear.

            Cain smiled again. "Then it's over for you, isn't it? At long last?"

            Zero blinked in surprise. "What exactly do you mean…?"

            "Please, Zero." The old scientist chuckled. "I've seen you after each major battle, and you're never this pleased with yourself. The last time I saw you actually smile was before Repliforce went wild." He raised a hand to stop any response. "I don't know what you did back there, Zero, but whatever it was, it was right."

            Zero blinked yet again. "How can you be sure?"

            "Because I'm the wise old guy, and my role is to know such things." He got to his feet, slowly but steadily. "It's late. Signas will need some advice by now, if X hasn't already provided it. I just wanted to make sure you didn't spontaneously combust or something."

            The Hunter laughed, and the dull ache in his chest made him wish he hadn't. Then he looked the doctor in the eye. "Cain…thank you."

            He smiled and shook his head. "It's nothing."

            "No," Zero continued. "You've been more of a help to me than anyone I know. You could have—and probably should have—just considered me another soldier and let me fight my own battles, but instead…"

            Cain's expression was for a moment unreadable. Then he spoke in a very quiet voice. "You know I never had a real family. I've more or less adopted all the Hunters to fill that void, but…you and X have been the only constants through the years. I guess a part of me thinks of you two as the sons I never had."

            Zero felt his loyalty towards the departing Grand Commander solidifying even more. "You're not half bad as a father figure."

            "Well thank you Zero." Cain smiled again and headed to the door. "They say you'll be out of here in a day or two. Make it sooner than later. Signas has some grand scheme up his sleeve, and we'll need as many Hunters up and running as fast as they can."

            "Tell him I'll be ready and waiting." Zero saluted the old man as he left, and smiled as the door closed. Wily may have come through in a pinch, but he had nothing on Cain.

            Zero sat up despite his restored body's protests and looked around the room. The tranquilizing agent used to put Reploids out was still in his system, but nevertheless he felt full of energy. Unlike Signas he had no grand scheme, but he didn't really need one to accomplish what he wanted to. There was a lot going on outside these walls, and he wanted to do his part.

            The Hunter then noticed the closed window a few feet from his bed. He gathered himself for the voyage and stood on shaky legs, walking slowly to the target and opening it as soon as he reached it. More than anything he wanted to breathe air that didn't smell like a hospital, no matter how cold it might be. And it was certainly cold, he learned, sticking his head out the window with his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the wind against his face.

            When he did open his eyes he scanned the nearby city. He wasn't too terribly far above the ground, and could make out the snowy sidewalks below him. There were no passerby at this time of night other than paramedics smoking cigarettes, but he did see something noteworthy. After squinting for a while and still not being able to make it out, he cheated and used his optical program to zoom in on the object as far as he could.

            "Wow," was all he could say, when he made the object out. It was a cluster of violet flowers growing in a spot that made them viewable from his room, surviving despite the cruel December chill. Zero hadn't really believed it was possible…he'd expected some kind of symbolic event. But this literal display was far more powerful.

            He did not know how long he stared at the flowers, nor when exactly he started back for the bed, but he did know that he couldn't bring himself to close the window. He sat down smiling as a tear rolled down his cheek, and then he swore something stopped it in its tracks. At first he thought it had frozen on his wind beaten face, but then he felt a soothing presence next to him. He reached out to touch it, and while he met nothing physical there was something that went straight to his heart. Smiling again he laid himself back down, and he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

            But sleep was no longer what it used to be. Zero wasn't even sure if he was really unconscious. He hardly minded, though, because even before he opened his eyes he could smell the very subtle fragrance of her hair and feel her body pressed against his. He felt his insides warm up as he kissed her forehead and held her in his arms. "Missed you."

            "Not as much as I missed you," Iris replied, smiling at him.

            "How did you do it?"

            "The flowers?" She laughed innocently. "My secret."

            "You're a miracle worker," he laughed in turn. "What else do you have up your sleeve?"

            Iris rested nose-to-nose against him, smiling with both eyes and lips. "What else do you need?"

            Zero looked her over, loving her more with each second and grinning broadly as he leaned in to kiss her.

            "I think I already have it all."

            Malevex didn't hate snow, but he did hate this situation. The cold stung the ebon Reploid's eyes as he peered out from his sanctuary at the snowscape before him. He squinted and absently wiped away the annoying tears before focusing on the object that intrigued him. Satisfied that it was just a rock that had until now been buried in snow, he retreated back into the well-hidden cave and crouched low against the cold stone wall. He listened carefully for any signs of approaching life, waiting anxiously for the sound of silence—a sound he was beginning to think would never come. They were stuck here until the planes and the foot soldiers decided to stop searching for straggler Mavericks, and even then the escape would be risky.

            What he did hear was footsteps coming from within the cave. He smiled at the figure as she approached, crouching down next to him and moving locks of raven hair away from her eyes. "Still on the lookout?" her clear voice inquired.

            He nodded. "That'd be the fifth Hunter-shaped rock I've seen tonight."

            "You're paranoid."

            "I know. How's Mortar?"

            Teytha leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and letting out an exhausted breath. "Asleep."

            "You should get some rest, too."

            Her eyes opened, falling on his face. She reached up and brushed some melting snow off his features, eventually running her fingers through his hair and scratching the back of his head. "You too."

            He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "I'll be all right."

            "No, you'll be a zombie. No one's going to come for us here."

            "You don't know that." Something about the way he said it made them look each other in the eye. Malevex blinked a remaining flake of snow from his eye and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "I was so afraid I'd lost you."

            "Shh," she whispered, hugging him even tighter. "It's over now…all of it." They took solace in that lie and in each other for a few minutes before she decided to voice the truth. "He's never going to leave us alone, is he?"

            "If Chartreuse is the Serpent…no, he won't." Malevex brushed his fingers across her cheek. "But he doesn't know we're alive. That's our edge, if he ever comes near us."

            "What if…" She frowned, as though she didn't believe what she was about to say. "What if we stopped him before he had the chance?"

            "Getting militant all of a sudden?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in interest.

            She rested her forehead against his. "I'd fight anyone to protect you, same as you'd do for me. You know that."

            The bond between them solidified permanently. He smiled reassuringly at her, tipping her chin up to look him in the eye. "He won't touch us. The Serpent's network hasn't reached the European Commonwealth. We'll be safe there. If he ever does come, we'll be more than ready to kick his ass. We've come so damn far, Teytha. Nothing's gonna stop us now. Nothing."

            She smiled back and they kissed each other, abandoning the fear of being caught by the Hunters or their archrival. They'd waited years for this kind of closeness, and finally nothing was there to distract them.

            The cold of the cave suddenly seemed more oppressive, and so they retreated to the back, huddling together far from the sleeping Mortar and keeping their voices to a whisper. Teytha curled up in Malevex's lap, and he held his shivering lover tightly. "You said you know someone in the Commonwealth?" she asked him, her lips near enough to his ears that she barely had to utter a sound.

            "I do. He can get the three of us in. From there, it's all up to us. A new home, new identities…new lives."

            "We finally have a future."

            "We do." He shivered himself, though not necessarily from the cold. He smiled sadly at her inquiring eyes. "I just…wish he could have known the same future."

            "I don't think he'd have died any other way. Gredam fulfilled his dream." Teytha said it in a way that reached right to her paramour's heart. She took his hand and kissed him lightly. "We owe it to him to do the same."

            "Yeah…" They relaxed into each other's arms again, Malevex now gently caressing Teytha's head. "We will."

            Minutes later the three exhausted survivors of Terrornova were all sound asleep, though they were far from alone. Figures clustered around inside the cave, watching them silently, all with a different expression on their face. They had been there since the get-go, unseen and unheard. One knelt down at Malevex's side, smiling at the look on his best friend's face. It seemed that, despite all odds, things had worked out in their favor after all.

            "Time to go, man," a voice said, from behind.

            "Hold your horses, Redmond," said another. "Can't you see there's a moment going on?"

            "Well I doubt they appreciate being haunted, Saybir," Redmond retorted.

            "Haunting's half the fun of being dead!" said a third voice.

            "Good for you, Grate, I've taught you well," was Saybir's chipper reply.

            "I'm fine, guys," Gredam said, standing and facing his comrades, the fallen Reploids of Terrornova. "So are our friends here."

            "They damn well better be," Redmond said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Someone has to be around to give that bastard Traitor what's coming to him."

            Gredam looked back at Malevex, Teytha and Mortar, wishing with all his might that he could stay with them but knowing he could help them better where he was now. "Live strong," he whispered to their sleeping forms, knowing their subconscious minds could make out his spectral voice. He snapped off a salute in their direction. "We'll be looking out for you."

            One by one the assassins stepped out of the cave and vanished into the snowy Catskill night. Gredam was the last, and just before he took his leave he noticed, growing out of the snow, what appeared to be of all things an iris flower. "Well I'll be," he grinned, as the world around him began to fade.

            Even in this day in age, miracles still existed.