"Shouldn't be cold in the desert, shouldn't be cold in the desert, SHOULD NOT BE COLD IN THE DESERT, GODDAMNIT ALL."
"Corsair, shut up," a low voice broke in. "I swear to God, if you say that again, I'll break you're friggin' neck. And you know I could."
A disgruntled and shivering Corsair, wrapped in an overcoat, huffed at his friend's comments. "Well, jeez, I'm so sorry, Ledge. You know, there are some people in this world who aren't as tolerant to the cold as you are, okay? I just happen to be one of them, and thus, I can bitch all I want! BITCH BITCHITY BITCH BITCHEROO."
"...I swear it, you're gonna make me lose it," replied Ledge Berkes, a relatively well-built dark-skinned man with jet black hair. Unlike Corsair, he wore a very light jacket, and wasn't shivering a bit. "You just never stop talking, do you? It's AMAZING anybody could tolerate you for more than two seconds, let alone somebody like Mercutio..."
"Hey, Mercutio chooses his allies well! I'm a prime example of that," Corsair said on his behalf. "C'mon, I've been doing this for a year now. Mercush obviously must value me if I've been around here as long as that."
"Which is what confuses me," Ledge stated. "From what I can see, you really don't have any kind of unique, outstanding abilities at all. I mean, most soldiers I meet have at least SOMETHING... but you, on the other hand, are just one giant enigma. The only thing I've seen you do masterfully is complain."
"Hey, it's an acquired skill," Corsair admitted sarcastically. "A skill which I think I'll put do some good use now! Where in the ding-dong-diddly-hell is Mercutio?! It's FREEZING out here, for Chrissakes."
"Pshh... been here a year, and can't even handle a little wind chill..." Ledge muttered. "You know, we're hardly even into the desert anyway. This campout here is just at the very beginning of it, at best. We've still got a ways to go."
Ledge was right; he and Corsair had set up camp near the very edge of Terencse Desert, relatively close to the city itself. Their only means of shelter were two small tents that they had assembled the night before, albeit shoddily constructed, and their surroundings seemed to stretch out into nothingness. The desert sky was covered in an unwelcoming shade of grey, and the overall temperature was relatively low, even for winter.
"Great, that's just great," Corsair muttered sarcastically. "I can't believe it. He's ditched us, hasn't he?"
"He hasn't ditched us, you moron!" Ledge exclaimed angrily, his eyes narrowed. "You're getting delirious... the cold air must be getting to your brain. If you'd just calm down for a few minutes, then..."
"Well, for the love of Zeus, how long have we been waiting here for?" Corsair interrupted, flailing his arms. "You've got a watch, not me - what time is it?"
Ledge, in a huff, pulled back his left sleeve and observed his watch. "9:30 A.M.," he said. "It's a little fast, but that's probably close enough."
"Okay, and when did Mercutio end up leaving?" Corsair inquired.
"Er... I think it was around 7," Ledge admitted.
"Well well well then. 2 and a half hours," the blonde mercenary concluded. "Lovely. And I wonder when he'll get here? What would you guess, Ledge - seven, eight more hours?! I wouldn't be surprised."
"Good God, man, this pessimism of yours isn't helping the situation at all, okay?" Ledge barked. "I'm really, REALLY getting sick of you. We've been here for over two hours and it's been nothing but 'Bitch complain nag nag cold cold whine whine Mercutio blah blah bullcrap'. Listen, I've been with Mercutio longer than you have, alright? I know the way he is - and if there's one thing he admires most in a person, it's patience. Which is why I'm so amazed that he's letting you follow him, considering that you're probably the living antithesis of that virtue. But that aside - listen to me now - Mercutio WILL be here, and until then, I want you to SHUT YOUR FREAKIN' MOUTH and have a little faith. Otherwise, I'll shove my fist so far into it, it'll give you an oral enema. Got that?"
Corsair, still shuddering from the cold, shot his comrade a piercing stare. Unable to counter his words, he humbly shuffled away, his shoulders hunched over and his overcoat dragging along behind him. He didn't bother looking back at Ledge.
"Fine then," Corsair muttered. "I'm taking a nap. Lemme know when that dark-haired weirdo comes back."
"Hey, hey, HEY!" Ledge called, advancing towards his crestfallen associate. "Nap? Who do you think you are?! Get back over here, NOW."
"Hey, I'm not the guy who can't stand my company, okay?!" Corsair yelled, yanking open his tent flaps. "You don't want any more of my bitching? Fine, then! You can wait by yourself. I could care less."
"That's not the point, Corsair!" Ledge bellowed, weary from the constant arguing. "Listen, Mercutio ordered BOTH of us to stand out here and keep watch. Now, last I check, Mercutio's the guy with the authority in this group, not me. So I'm not gonna sit around and let you disobey him. Get out here."
"MAKE ME!" Corsair shouted childishly, sticking his head out of his tent and then rapidly pulling it back in.
"Alright then, FINE!" Ledge yelled with finality. "You wanna be a whiny little baby, then be my guest! Stay in there as long as you want. But you remember this - once Mercutio DOES get here, I'm gonna tell him everything that you've been doing since he's been gone. Then you'll have to deal with HIM."
"SCREW HIM!" Corsair screeched. "He's got nothing on me! And furthermore, he isn't coming back! It's hopeless!"
"Grrr... oh, that is it," Ledge muttered maliciously, rolling up his sleeves and approaching the tent. "This is gonna end NOW. If you don't get out of there this instant, I'm gonna RIP THAT STUPID TENT APART!"
"...now, Ledge, you know that it isn't smart to think like that. You're going to end up hurting yourself over anybody else."
A voice from behind. Ledge, completely caught off guard, swiftly turned around to face the figure behind him. Unsure of his footing, he mistakably wrapped his feet around each other, causing him to fall less-than-gracefully into the sand. A bit shaken but not overly fazed, he managed to lift his body upwards partially to get a glimpse at this stranger - a dark haired man, mid-height, and wearing brownish boots and a grey cloak similar to his own. His face seemed pale, kind of cold; even from Ledge's distorted point of view, it wasn't hard to determine who it was.
"Wa-wait..." he muttered between breaths. "Mer... Mercutio? Is that you?"
"Here," the cloaked man offered, extending his arm. "Get up."
Ledge, his eyes widened with shock, reluctantly grabbed the man's hand. "Sir, my apologies! I had no idea that you were coming back so soon," he said humbly while Mercutio swiftly lifted him to his feet. A bit nervous, Ledge dusted the sand off of his exterior and looked his boss straight in the eyes. Mercutio, his own greenish-tinted eyes dark and callous, looked straight back.
"Mercutio... good to see you again!" Ledge suddenly beamed, ignoring his downtrodden state for a few seconds. "Erm, if you don't mind my asking, how did you get here without me seeing you over the horizon, or something? Seems like you just... appeared."
"Oh, don't be so amazed, Ledge," he snipped in his casual, almost British-sounding voice, raising his eyebrows. "My techniques aren't any of your business, for the time. And you knew I was going to be here eventually. I told you myself, isn't that right?"
"Yes, you did, sir," Ledge agreed, catching his breath. "And trust me, I did believe you. Just that things were getting a little out of hand around here, and..."
"Well, that's good," Mercutio interrupted, ignoring Ledge's latter comment. "Remember, Ledge, I don't have use for infidelity. It just... bothers me, when people begin to show tendencies of it."
"Yes, I know that very well, sir," Ledge said obediently, the previous anger he had so openly expressed before now gone with the wind. "Trust me, I've been as trusting as I could be while you were gone... but, unfortunately, there's been another who hasn't exactly followed that example."
Mercutio raised his eyebrows once again, concern present on his face. "Hmm?"
"See, sir, I'm usually not one to name names," he reasoned, adjusting his posture. "But for all the time I've been here, Corsair has been a consistent problem. It's just incredible the way he never, EVER stops complaining about everything that ever happens to him. Ever."
"Corsair..." Mercutio repeated silently to himself, looking around the barren desert area. "He's supposed to be out here."
"That's right - and he isn't," Ledge pointed out damningly. "He's just been completely disobedient the entire time, it just drove me INSANE. When I finally told him to shut up, he stormed off to his tent and sealed himself in, as if he was a 4-year-old and I took away his desert privileges or something. And he isn't coming out; he's only shot insults at me the entire time. He's impossible to reason with, sir! I almost had to use physical violence, but luckily enough, you arrived just before I had to resort to that. I really didn't want to, Mercutio, but..."
"Alright, Ledge, you've said enough," Mercutio interrupted again, his eyes directed at the sand for no apparent reason. "Calm yourself. I dislike the way you're getting so worked up over all of this, when it can be so easily solved."
"Easily solved?!" Ledge exclaimed, his rage starting to surface again. "Sir, with all due respect, that boy is just beyond all hope. We can't just wave a magic wand to make him normal, okay? That's just not possible. No offense, but I'm still confused as to why he needs to be with us. If anything, he belongs in a McDonalds somewhere - if he weren't fired immediately, that is, for cussing out half the customers."
"See? This is what I'm talking about," Mercutio noted calmly, looking straight at his associate now. "You acting like this isn't going to improve the situation at all, is it?"
"Well... no, I guess not," Ledge admitted, a melancholy tone entering his voice. "But sir, I just can't take this anymore, okay? That's all I have to say. If you want to take care of that boy, feel free to. I'm just going to stay out of it all."
"That was my intention," Mercutio said smugly, a deceptive smile covering his face. "I'll take care of it... but you remember one thing - don't take such a patronizing tone to me next time. Otherwise, there will be serious consequences."
Ledge gulped at the thought, but tried his best not let his worry show. "Yes... of course, sir. My apologies, won't happen again." With that, he sidestepped out of the cloaked man's way, giving him a full view of Corsair's tent.
"Hmm. Good then," Mercutio said in response to Ledge's comments. "Don't worry, this will only take a minute or so."
"Well, if you say so."
Mercutio acknowledged his ally with a nod before walking hastily towards the tent, sitting only a few feet away. Ever since Mercutio had arrived, Corsair hadn't said a word; Ledge figured that he had just become frozen with fear, or something. That was understandable, though; Mercutio hated cowardice and infidelity, and Corsair was reeking of it at the moment. Although it didn't seem like it, Mercutio was a definite force to be reckoned with when he was pissed. Ledge knew this all too well.
It wasn't very long before Mercutio had dragged his feet long enough to reach Corsair's dormant tent. At first, he didn't say a word, but rather stood as still as a statue; Ledge figured that he could have been waiting for Corsair to say something, but he quickly dashed that, reminding himself that Mercutio wasn't one to wait.
"Corsair," he said firmly, still not making a move. "Come out."
It was a very simple command, but it definitely meant a lot at this point. Even so, it yielded no response; the greenish tent remained still, and not a peep resonated from it. This didn't phase Mercutio one bit; he simply continued to stare at the poorly-assembled thing with dark, indifferent eyes.
"Well then," he concluded. "You don't want to come out... that's obvious now, I see. But I assure you, Corsair; the longer you stay in there, the worse things will be for you in the long run. As such, I would strongly advise you to give this up right now. For your sake, and mine."
Logic. That'll never work with HIM. Ledge mentally noted; Mercutio may have been a good, convincing speaker, but Corsair was still just a hopeless child - there was no way of getting through to those types. And, so far, Ledge was right on the money; after Mercutio's last comment, the tent still lay silent, without any noise or movement coming from it. As much as he enjoyed watching Corsair getting his comeuppance, Ledge couldn't shake a bad feeling in his stomach; he knew this could easily get ugly.
But still, despite the fact that he wasn't being listened to, Mercutio still seemed calm and cool about the situation. It was obvious that his patience was starting to wear thin, though; this time around, he responded with an audible grunt, and wiped a few beads of sweat off of his face.
"Alright then, Corsair. Listen here," Mercutio called. "Since you are required to respond to me when called, I will now be forced to conclude that there is nobody in this tent here. So as a result, on the count of three, I will proceed to kick this thing into oblivion. If you ARE in there, then you will be severely injured, I can assure you. So - one..."
No way. Ledge wouldn't believe it - he knew Corsair was a stubborn idiot, but would he really be stupid enough to not give into Mercutio after a third calling, AND a threat to give him a solid kick in the face? That definitely wouldn't work out well. But, then again, Corsair probably WAS stupid and stubborn enough to stay put in that thing, as far as Ledge knew.
"Two..."
Ledge watched as Mercutio began pull his right leg slowly backwards, positioning himself for the attack. This wouldn't be pretty; a kick in the face was never a good thing, but from Mercutio, it was a hundred times worse than usual. Corsair knew this, and he STILL wasn't giving it up? It was just unbelievable now. There's GOTTA be some loophole to this, Ledge noted, scrambling to think of what could be wrong...
"THREE!" Mercutio shouted, clouding Ledge's thoughts. Before he knew it, Mercutio had let fly a powerful foot-thrust into the bottom of the tent, sending it far across the desert. Ledge looked on in amazement as he watched it hurdle into Kingdom Come, random pieces of Corsair's only shelter littering the desert floor during its non-stop flight. Eventually, a faint CRASH! sound could be heard somewhere in the distance, indicating that the tent hadn't had a very comfortable landing, to say the least. Ledge waiting anxiously for something big to happen...
...but nothing did. Mercutio still didn't move. He stood just as still as he did before, not making any kind of movement whatsoever, staring down at the sand. Ledge, completely unsure if Corsair had been in that tent or not, finally decided to take part in this; a bit nervous, he dashed as fast as he possibly could towards where Mercutio was standing, stumbling a bit along the way because of his desperation.
"Sir!" he belted out, stopping beside him to catch his breath. "what's going-"
But then he saw; in the space where the tent had been, there was nothing. All that was left were some irregular clumps of sand, undoubtedly the result of Mercutio's sudden kick. Amazed, Ledge rapidly looked back from the empty sand to his boss and back again, completely confused. Looking back at his mentor's face, however, he noticed something odd; Mercutio was smiling. Smiling...?
"Mercutio!" Ledge exclaimed. "Where... where's Cor..."
"Ledge, you obviously aren't very observant, are you?" Mercutio said confidently, somehow ignoring the fact that Corsair had disappeared. "I thought I'd always told you to try and look beyond the surface of things, right?"
"Wha? What does THAT have to do with any-"
Before Ledge could finish, Mercutio suddenly kneeled down in front of the clump of sand where the tent used to stand, a smirk still implanted on his face. Quickly, he shot his right arm into the sand, as if searching for something under the desert floor. Ledge just watched in a completely befuddled state until, after only a few seconds, Mercutio uncovered something; pulling his arm up slowly and smiling from ear to ear, he lifted out the frightened, thin body of Corsair, covered in sand and trembling.
"Beyond the surface, Ledge..." Mercutio said smugly, dropping Corsair to the ground with an audible THUD. "Keep that in mind."
"Uh, right," Ledge replied weakly, still in shock at what he was seeing. Corsair, whimpering a bit while on the ground, curled himself up into a fetal position as if trying to protect himself from some incoming onslaught.
Mercutio, a look of severity replacing his smile, directed his attention back to Corsair. "Okay now. Get up, Corsair."
"Yes... Mercush..." the blonde soldier whimpered, slowly picking himself up and still trembling. His face was extremely pale, and his eyes were unnaturally wide. "I'm really, really, sorry! It was just... scary... I thought that Ledge was gonna kill me... then you came, and..."
"Oh, don't start with that cock-and-bull story again, Corsair!" Ledge scolded, finding his temper once again. "You don't deserve any pity, and you damn well know it. You're just a selfish coward. Mercutio and I are just appalled at your actions - right, sir?"
He looked to Mercutio, who still stood as rigid as a statue, his cold eyes fixated on Corsair's feeble form. Ledge was expecting his superior to punish the young boy to the full extent of his power; he did, after all, display an act of stark infidelity. But that never happened; rather, Ledge was surprised to see a smirk form on Mercutio's usually stolid face.
"Burying yourself in the sand, eh?" he questioned, almost taking amusement out of the situation. "Can't say it's the best method of hiding yourself, not by a long shot. Not only is it easy to discover, but it's not very clean, is it? You should've run away, or something - or, at LEAST, have buried yourself deeper. You've been with me for over a year now... I expect better from you."
"Yea - wha?!" Ledge said, looking completely stunned. "Err, sir? I really think you should-"
"Now then, it's time to focus on more pressing matters," Mercutio interrupted calmly, turning his back on the two of them. "I suppose the two of you have been wondering where I've been all this time, correct?"
"But sir!" Ledge prattled on, amazed at his boss's attitude. "You saw what the boy did - don't you think you should be a little more-"
"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time, Ledge," Mercutio said poisonously, shooting dagger eyes at his comrade. "I said, we are moving on to more pressing matters. Must I make it any clearer?"
Ledge was mortified; his face was contorted into this hybrid of furious and shocked expressions, while his body was shaking and his lips were constantly moving, trying to form words but failing miserably. He looked back at Corsair, who seemed to have the same look of shock that he did but obviously seemed much less angry. How could Mercutio possibly be so lenient...?
"Uhm... yes, sir," Ledge muttered in defeat, knowing that arguing further with his boss wouldn't be the smartest choice. "More pressing matters, of course. Were you able to find the desert fortress anywhere?"
Mercutio smirked. "Well, there's really no reason for me to find the desert fortress, is there? It isn't lost." He chuckled awkwardly to himself. "No, I've known where the desert fortress has been for a long time. The reason we're here is to simply reach it, not find it."
"I... see," Ledge lied. "Well, did you REACH it, then?"
"No, that goal is set out for all of us, not just me alone."
"Well, then why where you gone for two hours?"
"Hmm... how to answer that," the dark-haired man muttered, staring down to the sand. "Well, you may not have considered it, Ledge, but the truth is that I have no definite plans for our future actions. I don't like the concept of planned events; life is too spontaneous to allow it. I let my hopes up on some predetermined action, and then it blows up in my face, and... well, I just dislike the concept overall. You know, Corsair," he interrupted himself, looking over at his frightened colleague, "you don't have to stand there staring at me like I've got leprosy or something. Come over here."
Corsair, still drenched in sand and looking pale as a ghost, almost jumped at his boss's sudden acknowledgement of him. Trembling but nodding feebly, he slowly sidled up next to Ledge, who gave him nothing but thoroughly irritated looks the entire time. "Sorry... sir," he said nervously, humbly staring at the ground. "Just not... feeling good."
"I'd rather you not complain to me, Corsair. You know I dislike it," said Mercutio sternly. "Anyway. To surmise my point, I guess you could say I took the two hours to have a good, long thinking session. I definitely needed it."
"But for two hours, sir?" Ledge pressed on. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"
"It's not THAT hard of a concept to grasp, Ledge," Mercutio said casually, his face devoid of humor. "I enjoy taking as much time as I please to think about certain things, ESPECIALLY future goals. And thus, I have a generally good idea of where to go from here. Things may get a bit shaky at times, I give you that" - he shot Corsair a cautionary glare - "but the only way we will persevere is through patience. Just keep your trust with me, and future outcomes will undoubtedly be in your favor. That is the key."
"Right, right," Ledge replied, sounding a little skeptical. "So then, where DO we go from here, anyway? To the fortress, right? I'm getting sick of standing around here all day."
"Ledge, I just advised the usage of patience, and I intend you to use it well," Mercutio said coolly. "To answer your question... yes, we're going to reach the fortress next. Our arrival to the fortress begins the search for the runaway. I'm sure you all know about that now."
"The runaway..." Corsair repeated feebly. "You mean... that reploid mercenary you hired a while ago? Dyna-whatsis?"
"Dynamo," Mercutio scornfully corrected, a look of pure hatred spreading across his face. "Yes. He is extremely dangerous, and if he isn't brought to me soon... then the results will be catastrophic. We can't trust him."
"Why would they be catastrophic, though?" Ledge asked. "I thought Dynamo had said that the file we needed from the Mavericks was destroyed when he found it, and he abandoned us for his own personal reasons..."
"Oh, and you believe he was telling the truth?" Mercutio snapped, his voice becoming less collected and more angrily desperate. "I will tell you this right now, Ledge - I have never been very trustworthy of machines, and after what Dynamo did, I will NEVER trust a machine ever again. How am I supposed to believe that he, one of the most power-hungry reploids that I have ever encountered, would abandon us for no reason at all? He HAS that file, I KNOW he does. I can't take his word for it, not in a million years." He paused for a moment, his expression looking tired and anxious, drops of sweat traveling down his face. "We can't afford too many risks right now. If Dynamo lets that file out, then who knows who could get a hold of it? The Hunters, the Mavericks... I can't imagine. I won't let either of them gain more power than they already have, damnit."
"Umm, Mercush?" Corsair nervously interrupted, raising a limp hand. "I... I know you've been talking about the importance of this file for a long time. But there's one thing that confuses me... what's IN that file that's so important? You've never really told any of us..."
Mercutio's face twisted a bit at that question; for a moment, it looked as if he were going to explode with anger, like an overly inflated balloon that would pop at any second. But instead, most traces of anger were wiped clean from Mercutio's face, and a sly smirk replaced them almost immediately. "Well... I can assure you, Corsair, that you will all know well about that file when all of this is finally over. That will be a very interesting time." He laughed humorlessly to himself before turning away from both his henchmen. "But, like I said, we will need patience to reach our goal. Right about now, I think it would be best to get to the fortress ruins - we'll search every square inch of that place before leaving. And afterwards... I guess Fate will have more of a hand in that." He beckoned for the other two to follow his lead. "Come on, I'll show you the way. It shouldn't be too long from here, as long as we keep a steady pace."
With that, he slowly began to walk away from Ledge and Corsair, casually as ever. Knowing how important it was too keep up with Mercutio, Ledge began to follow - that is, until he heard Corsair's perturbed voice once again.
"Oh.. well, isn't THIS a treat!" he snapped, still shivering in his coat. "First he makes us wait for eons, THEN he doesn't give us ANY information on that stupid file, and NOW he's making us walk into oblivion for Zeus knows how long. And to top it off, I gotta use the bathroom BAD - where am I gonna get any privacy?! THE DESERT SEES ALL, DAMNIT!"
"Would you just SHUT UP already?" Ledge barked, ignoring his boss for a brief moment. "You know, I thought that you might have learned something from that tent incident, but I guess it's obvious that you're just too friggin' dense to get the picture." He began striding away angrily, facing Mercutio's path. "Follow us whenever you feel mature! That should take you a couple years, I figure."
But Ledge had failed to see the loophole in his challenge - Corsair might not have been mature in actuality, but he sure as hell FELT mature. Pondering this thought, he shrugged, and followed Ledge and Mercutio on the path that so many soldiers had crossed before.
"Okay. I think all four of you have a pretty good idea as to why you're here. Again."
The dedicated Repliforce commander Jet Stingray measured up the four reploid soldiers who had been brought to his office only a couple minutes ago - they all stood in a straight line in front of him, their eyes narrowed with resentment. The four had already become very familiar faces to the stingray reploid; this was the third time they'd been brought to him in this month alone, and he was certainly getting tired of it.
"Now, I understand everybody in the Repliforce has their own separate opinions, and that's fine. But I think the four of you need to not let your beliefs affect the way you act in this organization." He leaned against his desk, his blue-and-gold trimmed "wings" gleaming against the fluorescent lighting. "I mean, it's getting ridiculous now..."
"I still don't know what the problem is, sir," one of the soldiers interrupted, a dark blue-armored reploid with a faded yellow helmet on his head and a piercing set of green eyes. "The four of us were only spreading a little truth around this organization for a change. It's our right, isn't it?"
"Rights or no rights, this is NOT tolerable, Rixon," Stingray reprimanded, keeping a firm stance on his last words. "I don't care WHAT your beliefs are - the four of you will NOT harass other soldiers in this building for not believing what you believe. That's just stupid-"
"We weren't harassing them!" another soldier butted in, a female reploid with short black hair and maroon armor. "They're just close-minded. If they had taken just a SECOND to listen to what we had to say, maybe they would have learned something. But they didn't even give us a chance."
"You didn't give THEM a chance, either!" Stingray scolded. "From what I've seen and heard of you four, all you seem to do is shout a people in the halls and curse at them if they don't listen to you... which I really wouldn't blame them for, anyway. And after this whole ruckus in the training grounds, I'm starting to come to the conclusion that-"
"That 'ruckus' was kind of started by me, sir," a third soldier chimed in, a male reploid with scraggly red hair and standard green Repliforce armor. "But it wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for that fat guy giving me a dirty look the entire time."
"That 'fat guy' happened to be a close friend of Doctor Cain's!" Jet said angrily, glaring at the three who had already spoken. "He was there for strictly business reasons, and nothing more. I don't think I need to tell you that Cain was very upset to hear that he had a saber handle lodged up his... well, you know damn well what you did, so I'll spare you the details."
"Cain..." the female muttered to herself. "I don't trust that guy at all."
"He's the founder of the Repliforce, Marisa," Stingray reminded here. "I think he deserves some respect."
"And you know WHY he founded the Repliforce, right?" the reploid known as Rixon challenged him. "His intentions are obvious - he wanted to make a nice, safe, and easily controllable army of reploids to police the world and do ALL of the Hunters' dirty work. After the first three wars and the whole Vile incident, everybody's scared out of their wits."
"It's all just so the HUMANS can have security!" the girl reploid Marisa shouted. "Don't you get it? The humans send us to fight all of their battles for them, so they can sit on their big fat asses and feel better about themselves for 'preserving the world' or some bull like that. And then when all the fighting's over and the 'bad guys' have been defeated, guess who still gets shafted? REPLOIDS. Humans get all the credit, yet they do nothing."
"We're a bunch of objects to them," the other male reploid continued for her. "It doesn't matter to them if we die - they can just build more of us, right?"
"That's ENOUGH!" Stingray exclaimed, a look of frustration on his face. "That's a whole crock of lies, and you all know it. There are plenty of human Hunters who have been fighting Mavericks since the very first breakouts. And furthermore, everybody knows fully well as to why Dr. Cain created this organization - it was a way to give all reploids a very healthy sense of pride, while at the same time allowing them to work towards the idea of a world shared safely by reploids and humans. He's trying to prove that not ALL reploids are rebellious and violent, which you four haven't exactly proved." He breathed in a bit. "And if there's ANY human you want to criticize for treating reploids like military weapons and nothing more, Dr. Cain should be the last one you scowl at. Ever since he discovered X, he's been fighting for the rights of reploids as much as he possibly could. I doubt he would ever want to use us just as weaponry."
The three speakers fell silent; Jet could hear them muttering inaudibly, their heads facing resentfully to the ground. He was just about ready to issue a punishment before he heard a piercing, cynical laughing coming from his left - it was the fourth reploid, a dark-haired, black-armored soldier that Jet had never actually heard speak. The reploid had been staring sadistically at Stingray for the entire lecture, and now was finally expressing himself.
"Oh - and what do YOU find funny?" Jet scolded, directing his attention to the lone reploid; in that moment, he suddenly noticed that his entire armor set didn't seem Repliforce-issued in the slightest, and that the Repliforce insignia was strangely absent from his body.
"What's funny?" the soldier asked cynically, smirking at his friends beside him. "What's funny is your naivety, Jet. You have so idea what the Repliforce will soon be regarded as."
"Really? And what would THAT be?"
"Mavericks," he replied surely. "You may not see it, but I do. This organization is too controversial to remain stable - soon enough, the humans will become overly suspicious of us, and deem us a group of insubordinate Mavericks seeking insurrection. They'll eliminate us - all of us - after they find we're not useful anymore, but they'll label us Mavericks to make it easier on them and to fool the world. It's an easy process to them."
"Come on, you know that won't happen," Jet assured him. "As long as Dr. Cain is around, I doubt that we'll be considered as horrible as Mavericks. You all just need to start thinking rationally..."
"You speak so harshly of Mavericks, Jet," the reploid observed, refusing to let his commander speak. "I thought you would be a little more sympathetic - after all, you were a Maverick at one point, were you not?"
Stingray had been fully ready to denounce everything that the fourth soldier was about to say up until that precise moment. His entire body just froze completely, a look of pure shock on his face. Everybody in the room - even the other three speakers - fell completely silent, all staring in awe at the lone black-armored mercenary. As Stingray stared at him, he stared right back - it was almost as if he were challenging the commander to reply, to admit that he once was exactly the opposite of what he was now. It was know that Jet noticed how different this particular soldier was, how his eyes seemed completely cold and soulless...
"Commander Stingray, sir?" a voice suddenly chimed in, shattering the silence into a million pieces. Still stunned, Jet very slowly turned his head in the direction of the voice - it was one of the General's assistants, a stout male reploid. "I was sent here to hear about the decided punishment, if you're done with these four."
"Uh... err, yeah, I'm done with them," Jet choked, trying his best to block out the fourth soldier as much as possible. "It'll be a week's long suspension, and we'll keep our watch on them - especially during X's visit. They could cause a lot of trouble while he's here." He gulped a bit before continuing. "You can... take them now. They're dismissed."
"What WAS that, Mark?" whispered Marisa, as the four followed the assistant down a long hallway. "Since when has Stingray been a Maverick?"
"There's still lots that the three of you have yet to know," Mark replied callously, a smirk on his face. "I'm sure plenty of information will help the three of you in what you're trying to do. Don't worry about the suspension... we'll be able to bounce back much sooner than you think."