The first chapter has the disclaimers. Ten chapters down…
~ * Aggression * ~
A companionable silence lay between Pyunma and Albert as they searched through the forest. Neither man saw any reason to speak, for what, really, needed to be said? Both preferred saving their words for when they needed them; there would be plenty of time for discussion after they located their absent member.
In that silence, the crack of a twig was akin to a small explosion in how it arrested their attention.
Albert heard the brittle snap behind him, and instinctively snapped his right hand up before him and pivoted to face its source. The thin shafts of sunlight penetrating the canopy above reflected off his steel blue eyes and metal hand. Pyunma spun about as well and dropped into a crouch, the barrel of his pistol glittering as he brought it level.
Britain stood there, mostly hidden by the trunk of a tree. One hand rested against the rough bark, and it was clear from his posture that he had been intending to hide behind it. They had turned too swiftly, however, and he was exposed.
The scene remained suspended for several seconds as the three cyborgs stood staring at each other. Finally, Albert lowered his arm, and Pyunma his gun. The latter holstered his blaster with a half-hearted movement, then stepped forward, his expression somewhere between relief and annoyance.
"So here's where you've been hiding. You've got everyone worked up, you know that? What were you thinking, running off like that?"
Britain did not answer. He didn't even move from where he stood, still half-hidden behind the tree. From where he stood, Pyunma couldn't get a good look at the shapeshifter's face, yet he saw enough to recognize that he bore an oddly neutral expression.
A mild uneasiness festered in the back of the young warrior's mind. The Englishman wasn't acting the way he would think someone in his position would. There was no sign of contriteness or apology. Why wasn't Britain stammering some excuse for his actions, or trying to lighten the mood with some weak joke? At the very least, he should probably be asking after Joe...
A terrible suspicion crossed his mind, and Pyunma took an abrupt step backwards.
He could tell from what he saw of Albert's face that he was following the same line of thinking. Mouth set in a firm line, Albert reached out toward Britain with his left hand, its metallic mate surreptitiously shifting so that it was level at his side.
"Come on, G.B.," he prompted gently. "We'd better hurry back to the house. Doctor Gilmore and the others are all waiting…"
Being closer to the shapeshifter than Pyunma, Albert had a clearer view of his face… or what little of it was not obscured by the tree trunk. Only one of Britain's eyes was visible, but the utter lack of emotion it held as his partial gaze connected with the German's was enough to make him stop cold in his tracks, liquid blue eyes widening a fraction.
In the next instant, everything changed.
The bark of the tree facing him exploded outward, peppering the startled Albert with wooden shrapnel. Instinctively he raised his left arm over his face, jumping backwards to avoid the spray, and his right arm snapped up with the fingers locked together.
He heard Pyunma cry out behind him, but wasn't concerned for the aquatic expert's safety. He knew the Kenyan was standing far enough back that there wasn't any way he could be caught by the tree's explosion.
As the scene came into clearer focus, Albert realized that the side of the trunk facing them was covered with thick gouges. The tree hadn't exploded; something had burrowed just underneath the bark and lashed out at him, and that something was currently swinging back in front of Britain as he stepped out from behind his cover.
(His arm,) Albert comprehended -- or, at least, some melding of blades and edges that jutted from where the appendage was supposed to be.
Even as he watched, transfixed, the limb reshaped, though not into the natural form of his right arm. Instead, it twisted and lengthened, tapering off into a whip with a wickedly barbed tip that lanced unerringly forward to tear a furrow into the ground before him.
Jumping back again, Albert landed alongside Pyunma and fell into a crouch. His knee started to unhinge, but with a sudden twitch he forced it shut again. This wasn't lost on his partner, and Pyunma shot him a sideways glance, arching an eyebrow.
"Not a good idea, right?" he hissed under his breath, low enough that only his partner would overhear him.
Albert inclined his head forward slightly in a clandestine nod. The darker-skinned cyborg clenched his teeth together, keeping a close eye on his shapechanging comrade while his thoughts raced furiously in search of some solution. His hand hovered uselessly over his sheathed pistol; he might as well have left it behind for all the good it was going to do against this opponent.
Britain's face remained blank, his arm reforming once more as he brought the twisting limb back to his side. He began to slowly advance on the pair with steady, measured steps, gaze locked upon his targets. They stared back, scarcely able to believe what was happening.
004, 008!
"001!" Pyunma answered the mental hailing with a fierce whisper. "Now what…?"
…I don't know.
Albert felt Pyunma stiffen beside him. He couldn't blame his partner for letting his shock show, for he felt it as well. Such an admission was rare from the tiny telepath. He could feel the youngest cyborg's frustration broadcast into his mind as clearly as his own.
I'm trying to contact 007, except… I know he's there with you, but he's not.
"What?" Eyeing the approaching figure, Pyunma snarled under his breath, "What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"
It means… Ivan's mental voice faltered again; it sounded as if the infant himself wasn't entirely certain how to communicate whatever the problem was. There's something keeping me from talking to him. Some sort of barrier…
"Well, that isn't good," noted Albert.
It wasn't clear to Pyunma whether the German was referring to Ivan's news or the fact that Britain's body was transmuting again. This time the change originated in his fingers, which were lengthening and hardening into what appeared to be bony black claws.
"001…" he murmured, knowing the child could at least pick up images of what was happening from them if not the shapeshifter.
I know, I know! Look, just try to keep him busy; I'll see what I can do!
The barest of flickers inside his mind informed Pyunma that Ivan was shifting his concentration to other tasks. He and Albert were left facing their infected, insane comrade alone… for the time being, at least.
"Keep him busy… right…"
The change was complete, Britain's hands now sporting five hooked ebon claws. With a sudden fluidity he lunged forward, forcing Pyunma and Albert to spring in different directions to avoid being shredded where they stood. Landing arms first, Britain pushed upright, claws digging furrows in the dirt as he pivoted to look directly at the aquatic expert. Pyunma felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face as he found himself staring into the other's impassive face.
"Ivan, whatever you're planning, make it quick…"
~ * ~
"He's really… attacking them…"
Francoise's quiet declaration perfectly matched the bleak disbelief covering her pale features. The female cyborg stood poised, one hand raised to press against the lobe of her ear, the other folded against her lightly trembling chest. Her aquamarine eyes were haunted by ghostly impressions of the battle raging between three of her dear friends.
"I'm going," Joe declared, rising to his feet.
"No, you're not," Gilmore maintained, hands on the lad's shoulders and pushing him back down to sit.
"But, Doctor…!"
"Running into this blindly isn't going to solve anything," argued the scientist, avoiding eye contact with his patient. He couldn't let his judgement be clouded by the urgency he knew was flashing in the boy's terribly expressive garnet irises. Looking instead over to where Ivan's bassinet was sitting on a chair, he added, "We have to figure out some sort of plan first…"
Ivan heard the conversation dimly, the voices of the good doctor and the other two cyborgs muted like they were talking from a distance instead of residing in the same room. His concentration was focused on two tasks; keeping an eye on how Pyunma and Albert were faring against Britain, and pinpointing the rest of the team.
005, 006, he sent once he detected the pair. 004 and 008 found 007.
["Oh, wonderful!"] Chang's gleeful voice rang out in the babe's head, as miles away the firebreather declared the same thing aloud. ["So that means he…"]
He's not all right. At the stab of confusion from Chang's mind, Ivan felt his facial features tighten as he grimly reported, That virus he's infected with, it's apparently taken over. He's attacking 004 and 008.
["…WHAT?!"]
I need you and 005 to head over and assist them immediately. I'll send you the location. Hurry.
The bursts of unfiltered dismay coming from Chang's mind were painful to the youngest cyborg, and he did his best to tune them out. Geronimo Junior's thoughts radiated a similar sense of disbelief, but the giant was doing a much better job of keeping his emotions under control. Without speaking aloud he asked for the location, and Ivan relayed it to him, then stretched his thoughts further, seeking out the last of their number.
002. …002!
Contrary to what the others sometimes suspected, Ivan did not keep tabs on exactly where the other cyborgs were and what they were doing at all times. It was simply too much of a strain to sustain links with all those minds at once. Besides, he respected their right to privacy, and only pried into their thoughts when he felt the situation called for it.
…And occasionally when he was extremely bored, but that was neither here or there.
It was an annoyance now, though, to seek out the aerial combat specialist without having some clearer concept of his location. Between 'watching' the skirmish between Britain, Albert and Pyunma and guiding Geronimo and Chang there, splitting his attention to a third task seemed almost a waste of time.
But Jet deserved to know what was going on, and if he was close enough to lend a hand…
Then he found him, closer than he'd expected -- though that wasn't the only surprise. Underneath his mop of periwinkle hair, Ivan's glowing eyes widened at the feedback he was receiving from the hawkish lad's body.
Suddenly he saw Jet as he was at the moment; leaning against a tree for support while rasping for breath, fingers digging into the bark. He could see how his scarf had been converted into a makeshift cast for his left leg, and how the redhead avoided putting weight on it by latching onto different trees, slowly and steadily making his way back in the general direction of the house.
(Oh, just faint already!) Ivan thought privately with a rare flash of anger.
There was no way the proud cyborg would succumb willingly to his injuries in that manner, however. Ivan was certain Jet would keep dragging himself along for as long as he could, refusing to let common sense dictate his actions.
Without him going unconscious, however, Ivan couldn't simply teleport him straight home. He couldn't in good conscience leave Jet out there, of course; in his condition he'd be easy pickings for any Black Ghost flunkies that might get involved.
005, 006? Ivan reestablished contact with both men, making his decision quickly. I need you guys to do something else first. 002's been injured, and you guys are closest to where he is. Go intercept him, and then…
A blast of pain from another cut Ivan short, coinciding with a sharp gasp from Francoise. Her aquamarine eyes shrank slightly from fear, bearing witness to something only Ivan was able to glean flashes of as well.
"Albert…" she breathed.
Joe jerked violently and all but exploded to his feet, but Doctor Gilmore's hands remained tightly clamped over the cyborg's shoulders.
"Don't be a fool!" he hissed urgently in the boy's ear. "Even if you used your acceleration mode until you exhausted it, you still couldn't get close enough to the battle to still be of any use once you arrived! Save your strength!"
He felt Joe stiffen, then his shoulders slumped, and the leader of the cyborgs sank back down into his seat disconsolately. Francoise spared him a sympathetic glance, then her attention was arrested once more by the ongoing conflict.
Ivan refused to feel helpless. Just because the others in the room could be of little assistance didn't mean he had no other means of offering aid! Hidden eyes glowing a brilliant shade of blue beneath his bangs, the youngest cyborg concentrated on piercing the veil that kept him from reaching another of his friends:
007! Can you hear me? 007! G.B.!
~ * ~
There was a faint buzzing at the back of his mind, a tickling sensation that he brushed off as nothing of concern. There were far more important matters at hand, such as finishing off the two traitors in front of him before moving on to greater targets.
Behind the temporary shelter of a tree trunk, Albert hunched over with his right hand pressed against his chest, holding shut the fresh tears in his uniform. It had been a simple mistake; dodging left when he should have gone right. Thankfully, the attack had not cut deep: only the three longest claws had left their mark, three narrow furrows scraped over the melding of flesh and bare metal.
Just because it wasn't a terribly serious wound, all things considered, didn't mean it didn't sting.
The trunk quivered, the only warning he got before bark exploded outward with the force of the barbed spear being thrust through the other side. Albert sprang backwards, tuck and rolled to the right, ending on his hands and knees and glaring at the shattered remains of the tree.
Britain wrenched his arm free with a disturbingly fluid movement, the spear-limb regaining its previous clawed form. There was still no sign of emotion on the actor's face as he pivoted to face the kneeling Albert. Raising his arm overhead, he brought it down swiftly, ready to rend the German to shreds.
Before it completed its course, Pyunma sprang from behind, reaching out to restrain him.
Without turning to face his other opponent, the shapeshifter's body mutated again, his other arm swinging back around to intercept his attacker. His fingers closed like a vice around the combat expert's neck, then slid down smoothly to his waist and spread out until the extensions met at his back. Turning Pyunma's momentum against him, Britain turned smoothly about and drove his victim into the nearest tree. The bark splintered under the impact, and Pyunma's head fell back, then drooped forward as he passed out.
"Ze…008!" Albert cried out.
His shout fell upon unhearing ears, for Pyunma was out cold and Britain was preoccupied. The Englishman's body twisted so that he was facing the pinned cyborg completely. His left arm rippled, still keeping Pyunma lashed against the tree, while his right raised and moved backward in preparation to strike, barbed claws lengthening a fraction more.
Shakily Albert lurched to his feet. For a few precious seconds he could only stare, racked by indecision. They'd been trying not to hurt Britain, but the former actor afforded them no such courtesy. If he didn't do something…
There wasn't any time to agonize over it.
Britain's right hand shot forward, sable claws aimed for Pyunma's throat. In the same instant Albert lunged, the edge of his left hand shining as he brought it down in a vicious arc that intercepted the other's strike.
There was no scream, but the way the shapeshifter convulsed and released his pinned victim told Albert his aim had been true. Pyunma slumped to the ground, and the German would have run to his side had Britain not suddenly turned his face in his direction.
The emotion that had been absent for the entire encounter was suddenly evident in the wide-eyed look on Britain's face. Sudden tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and Albert could only stare at his friend's anguished face, unable to break the connection.
"A…Alber…" Britain half-sobbed.
The name hung unfinished, for abruptly his face twisted again, the fear replaced by a dark fury. It was the last vision Albert beheld before his body was pitched upward by the fierce blow to his stomach, before he was slammed down next to Pyunma hard enough that his impact left an impression upon the earth.
Britain's chest heaved furiously for several seconds, his breath rasping before the icy detachment returned in full. Regarding the fallen bodies with cold indifference, he brought his right arm up, transforming it into a mass of edges and spikes before bringing it crashing back down in a vicious arc.
The transfigured limb met only churned dirt and shattered bark. The bodies of his victims had abruptly vanished.
Britain's face remained neutral as his arms retracted and resumed their usual, natural shape. It was obvious where his prey had vanished to. Turning on his heel, he set off for his next destination.
~ * ~
"Albert! Pyunma!" cried Francoise.
Neither overheard her frantic cries, but lay unmoving where they had materialized in the room. Ivan slumped forward in his bassinet, not bothering to raise his head enough to watch Gilmore and Joe rush to assist their injured comrades.
It was fortunate, he thought, though he didn't broadcast it to the others, that 007's brutality had knocked the two out. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to do anything other than watch as he… No, it didn't bear thinking about. It hadn't happened, so it was pointless to consider it.
He listened to the way the others hurried to lay the duo out and check their wounds. From what he could still sense, neither was in serious danger from their injuries; the most immediate threat to their health was back in the woods somewhere…
"Joe, where do you think you're going?" demanded Gilmore.
"I'm going after him!" the leader declared; Ivan didn't need to look at him to picture the solemn determination filling his face, or the way he strode toward the door.
Don't bother…
Joe stopped in his tracks and looked over to the bassinet, worried. Ivan's mental voice sounded exhausted, and he wondered just how much energy the Russian cyborg had expended in getting Albert and Pyunma safely back to the house.
"Why not?" he asked.
Because, Ivan announced grimly, he's coming here.