MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST
By Erico
CHAPTER SIX: REBORN FURY
It was time. Another day had passed…it was time.
Sigma allowed his core program a brief smile before he set to work transferring himself to the replicating tubule that contained his new body.
I'm coming, X…I'm coming for YOU.
The etherlike pseudo reality of existing as free floating data faded again from Sigma…and then his new robotic eyes opened up.
It was being reborn as a reploid, after existing as a mere ghost in the machine that always set Sigma a little off balance. He didn't know why, although he wagered that few other reploids got the luxury of that experience. His optics were blurry…Sigma blinked and focused them.
He was standing in a tubule full of bright green liquid, capable of forming itself into whatever materials was deemed necessary. This…the replicating tubule was perhaps Sigma's great salvation.
And standing was keeping him trapped. Sigma formed a fist out of his left hand, then grinned as four sharp TitaniTefloalloy claws sprung from the back of his wrist gauntlets, extending out beyond his knuckles. The ultimate in fisticuffs, as it were. Perhaps Fluid Ferret had been good for something…he'd proven the effectiveness of the design. Sigma's right wrist gauntlet didn't hold the TitaniTefloalloy claws, but instead held a particularly nasty variation of the beam dagger. Sigma had designed this new body of his with that particular device in mind…the beam dagger could explode outwards in fury, growing instantly to the length of a powerful beam saber. A mere thought could split the one beam into three, giving Sigma's right hand a massive rakelike formation of plasma blades with a wide slashing area.
But he could test that out later. He needed to free himself of the tubule. Violently. Nothing else held the capacity to subside that blasted Virus's first command free from his mind for a while and restore rational thought.
The high density plastic containment unit of the replicating tubule gave way with a wrenching squeak as Sigma's new gauntlet claws slammed through the side. Sigma pulled his claws back, noting with devilish intensity that the greenish electrostatic liquid began to funnel out of the newly formed holes with eager force.
Then he finished the job and completely punched through it, letting the rest of his sarcophagal fluid fall to the floor in a watery slap. It seeped down the slight incline of the concrete floor and fell into the drainage ditch Sigma had designed. No sense in keeping a mess around.
Stepping free of his broken coffin, Sigma retracted his claws and flexed his new body's muscles. He stood at his nominal eight foot height…that almost never changed.
Previous forms he had taken had varied from similar claw bearing yellow armored types to flame firing, shield wielding demons.
This was somewhat an amalgamation…of both previous forms he'd held and the highlights of his Maverick Generals. This form was designed for sheer destruction.
Superadvanced beam dagger, TitaniTefloalloy claw, a set of hovercapable thruster Flight Wings permanently attached to his back, spiked kneecaps, homing missile launchers on his shoulder pads…
But enough about himself, Sigma thought calmly. It was time to reanimate the others…the six that would lead the next great Maverick Strike. And this time, Sigma would use a different strategy.
It was a variant of the Fourth Uprising, he mused. That time, he hadn't tried to coerce his forces to strike out, envelop an area and create a stable environment, thus splitting the deadliest Mavericks apart from one another and leaving them vulnerable. That time, he'd managed to not use his own Mavericks, instead having the pathetic Repliforce take the blame.
And this time, there was no one to take the heat. URFAWP had done that well enough, and now it was gone. Once more, it was Mavericks, and Mavericks alone who would strike the next chord of the symphony.
Sigma walked over to the first stasis tubule, calmly tapping in the sequence of keys that would begin the reanimation process. This reploid had slept long, his body slowly being altered by the Maverick Virus into something more…his armor being altered, weapons systems being added. His name was one that Sigma hadn't changed, but merely added onto.
"Kazok Gravor." Sigma breathed softly. "Awaken…and meet your master."
The reploid was shades of black, gray, and purple all over, the lights in the underground lab seeming to vanish upon striking his armor.
And then his eyes snapped open, blazing hotly. They were pure red, a blood red that made Sigma smile. Ferocity of pure decimation shone in that color.
"I am Kazok…" The reploid began haltingly, pulling himself free from the capsule and uneasily shifting about. Then his jaw set and he frowned. "Kazok Gravor. Maverick General." Sigma grinned. The process was a success.
Kazok had once been a shining star in URFAWP's ranks…until Fluid Ferret initiated him into the Maverick cause. With any luck, the long slumber and Maverick immersion had overriden his memories of the former life. That could get in the way if the fool held doubts. Wycost was the ultimate example of that.
"I am Sigma." The Maverick leader said sternly, looking at the Maverick General. "Do you recognize me?"
"Of course." Kazok replied firmly. "You are my leader."
"Good." Sigma replied. He turned about to the other stasis capsules and began the five other reanimation processes. "You have been in stasis for some time, Kazok. Undoubtedly there will be some blank spots in your memory. Do not worry about them…those are just going to exist, no matter what. But you should be able to see your weaponry, at least. Can you bring them online?"
"I can try." Kazok replied. Instantly, his right arm began to quiver and shift in the air, morphing into a powerful plasma Buster.
It was however, a series of Energen Crystal pods that separated from about Kazok's waist that was the biggest surprise. Bright purple beams of lightning light snapped out angrily and connected to the six pods from one another as they swiveled into a hexagonal formation and began to spin about Kazok.
Within less than a second, Kazok was floating in the air, his legs twisting in surprise.
"What the devil--?!" He shouted in surprise. Sigma turned and looked on amusedly.
"I see you found your antigravitational stasis pods." Kazok shut them off with a mental command, and was quickly lowered back down to the ground, the pods shutting off their connections and sliding back onto his waist. "Their power source is Energen…recharges from your main fusion generator. They are capable of suspending themselves and you in the air, giving you almost limitless abilities of flight. And in more serious situations, you can charge them up paralyze foes to eliminate them. That Buster on your hand may be moderately normal, but it is devastating when a foe cannot dodge."
Kazok flexed his left arm and grinned.
"Nice." Sigma nodded, punching in the final keystroke.
All five other stasis capsules opened up, releasing small puffs of pressurized air out into the underground base's main air supply.
Five dazed figures stepped out of them. Five more Maverick Generals to Sigma's cause.
A reploid with Dolphinlike features and overly large wrist gauntlets.
A female class feraloid.
A massive stub nosed Maverick that snorted from his Bullish face.
A turtle reploid with jagged red armor paint.
And an odd hunched over figure bristling with explosive launchers of every variety. Sigma raised his hands above his head in a sign of welcome.
"Good day, my Mavericks. You have at last grown awake to the new world…a world that you all shall change with my help." Kazok snapped his fingers.
"I think if we're going to obey this nagging command to destroy, we should first improve our chances of following the third command. Survive. Mind if we get some battle training in first?" Sigma nodded his massive bald head.
"Indeed, that was what I was going to suggest you do first. You will be the forerunners of the Seventh Rebellion…Kazok Gravor, Dash Blade, Dolph Reach, Cumulus Bull, Burst Scarab and Shell Butane." Sigma turned and walked in a different direction, beckoning them to follow. "But I have learned much from my past six attempts. And one thing I know now is that dividing the Maverick Generals to hold possession over different areas leaves them vulnerable. What you all shall do differently…where you shall succeed where others failed…is that you shall not venture alone. You six will learn to function as a cohesive team. You will find your weaknesses, and eliminate them by relying on the strengths of your group. No Mega Man, no Zero, and no Maverick Hunter PERIOD, shall stand a chance against you. The Seventh Strike shall not hold a true goal of domination. You shall not try to hold a distinct area. Where you walk, only destruction shall be bred. The objective I give you is to strike fear wherever you go, to prove that the Mavericks are truly and forever invincible."
The six Maverick Generals looked at each other, exchanging glances of surprise, confidence, of uneasiness.
But mostly a desire to destroy.
That was the cost of being Maverick.
"So what's the damages, doc?" Bastion clipped lightly. Hazil frowned and pulled back the futuristic Medical Scanner, then wiped back his grayed hair and shrugged.
"Pull those wings of yours back in before you hit somebody, and then I'll tell you."
The door to the Medical Bay opened with its usual hiss, parting to let Zero come tromping in with a full stack of portable datapadds. His blond ponytail swung back and forth as he grumbled with the box of reports.
"Hey Hazil, I got those checkup reports for the #0 Unit for ya…" Bastion swung about with a big grin on his face and waved.
"Hey Zero!" But he still hadn't pulled his wings back in, a fact Hazil made all too clear when he cried out and ducked underneath a Medical Cot. His tray of scanning utensils scattered to all corners of the room, and the unwitting Zero went flying as a massive wingtip slammed into his side, sending both him and his box full of medical reports flying in all directions.
For a few moments, there was silence aside from the clattering pieces of debris. Then Bastion visibly blushed and shook his head.
"Uh…Sorry." He quickly retracted his wings back into the main power pack.
Hazil pulled himself back to his feet and let his calm eyes dance over the damage caused by a second's foolishness of unawareness. Then he sighed and folded his arms.
"Bastion, you can forget the lollipop." The doctor turned his head to Zero. "How you doing, Crimson?" Zero shook off the minor fall and set to work picking up his datapadds, letting out a Swedish curse before responding in coherent English.
"Oh, fine. Just trying to get these back in alphabetical order now, which isn't easy when you've got a group of five who SWITCH NAMES ON YOU. I doubt highly that there's a reploid in my unit who had the misfortune to be named Amanda Hugginkiss."
"Or Hugh Jass?" Bastion said with an upraised eyebrow. Zero grinned.
"Hell, no. That's what I called myself once for a prank." Hazil cleared his throat loudly and tapped on the side of a Medical Cot.
"ANYWAYS. Bastion, you're doing fine, and it seems whatever melancholy situation had you and your Hunter rating down in the dumps has vanished. Your internal systems are working fine, and my beam staff design is still functioning as good as the day I handed it to ya as a growing up present." Hazil rubbed his chin. "About the only possible thing I worry about with you is that Flight Armor. It's next-gen, and there are times I even wonder what possessed me to help out with it. Basically what concerns me is the condition of those battery cells that keep the sucker running. They may be rechargeable, but they won't hold up forever. At some point, they'll need replacing, and probably within less than half a year at my best estimate."
"So it's a high maintenance armor."
"No, just the batteries. The rest of it is incredibly durable. INCREDIBLY." Hazil said poignantly. "That armor set took a direct hit with high impact chaingun rounds during your run-in with Airborne Albatross three weeks ago, and yet you came back smelling as fresh as a rose! There weren't even pockmarks on the surface of it." The doctor sighed. "Well, no matter what, that suit will serve you well. But if you want to make it a more permanent addition, I could hook it up to your main Fusion Generator. That way, it won't need replacing of power cells." Bastion harrumphed.
"Yeah, and then it also will be forever stuck on my back. Sorry Hazil, no dice. I like the portability of it. I'll take the power problem as a part of the package." Hazil shrugged.
"No sweat off my nose, Hunter." He turned to face Zero again. "So! Got all those reports ready?" Zero looked up from the ground, a fistful of reports in both hands.
"Kinda. Here, review those while I pick up the rest." Zero snapped his hand out and pulled Bastion's leg out from underneath him, grinning devilishly as the leader of the 21st Unit yelped. "Oh, no running away Bastion. You helped make the mess, you're sure as shootin' gonna help clean it up."
"Who wants ice cream…" Bastion breathed annoyedly.
High above the city streets of Washington D.C. below, high priced apartment suites and penthouses lay about the crowded suburbs. This was where the high and mighty bigwigs of the Bureaucratic elite lived…
This was where Emilius Cristoph's residence was, according to the tracer program's tally on Cristoph's unlisted number. Bristol grinned. One little piece of technology she found herself capable of constructing back at the MHHQ during her short stay there had been that phone tracer. She never knew it'd come in handy this soon.
Of course, what had been the odd part of it all was finding a way to get to the to the top of the building unnoticed…Cristoph's room was on the roof.
What she'd ended up doing was going to the fifth floor by elevator and then approaching the ever present hallway window. Opening the hinge to the window pane, she'd climbed out of it and begun the long process of hopping up the side of the building.
She'd left her dash thrusters offline for most of her travels, but for once Bristol had been grateful that it was a fused part of her systems. Activating their systems, the reploid seeking MI9 found it much easier to traverse the building's side, arming a gauntlet's grappler claws for aided traction.
Bristol was more amused at how her blue overcoat ruffled behind her like a long cape as she progressed up the side of the tower, bouncing off of it like a pumped up grasshopper.
"No wonder reploids had to be removed from the olympics…we'd break all their records!"
It was short work of it all, and about a half minute later Bristol finally shut off her dash thrusters and landed solidly on the building rooftop. Her blue overcoat fluttered to a halt about her thin body as she crouched lowly, both to lessen the strain on her leg joints and to hide from whatever sensors might be scanning the perimeter.
Pulling out her purse, she removed a scanner device and clicked it on, running its robotic sensor eye about in front of her.
It showed all in the clear. There were no monitoring devices about here, and no electronic alarms on the walkout window in the late Cristoph's penthouse.
"Safer than sorry." She shrugged. Tucking the device back into her purse, she pulled herself to a normal stance and walked forward. "Mister Cristoph, forgive the intrusion, but I've got questions…and you're going to answer them, regardless of what you think of me."
Doctor James Cain sat in his room, gently rocking back and forth in his reclining chair with his walking stick lying across his lap. The blue room lights were dimmed somewhat, and his goldfish, Sigma II swam about the fishbowl constructed out of Armored Armadillo's shell.
This was the quiet dim that Cain surrounded himself with…his own secluded spot away from the bustle of destruction, recruitment and training that came with being a part of the Maverick Hunters.
Although for once, it offered him no solace. Cain was a man who had been handed his death sentence…living on borrowed time, he felt the need to do something…SOMETHING…so that when the time of passing came, Cain could be remembered for something besides being the father of a troubled race.
"I wonder how the fates look down on me." Cain mused sadly.
He had never had children of his own. His wife Katheryn had died two years after they had been married, lost in a horrific car accident. People had often said that James Cain had never shown any public signs of depression or grief. That cast him both as a stalwart individual and an uncaring boor. "Katheryn…Forgive me."
After her death, James Cain pushed past his pain the only way he knew how…by completely immersing himself into his work. In the fifteen years following that tragedy, Cain made some of his biggest discoveries in the field of archaeology. His fame grew, as did his own fortune. One expedition had failed to dredge up any historical tidbits whatsoever, but had resulted in a rather sizable pocket of Energen Crystals. The wealth from that discovery was divided equally of course, but Cain still got enough to live in comfort.
But comfort was not something he wanted. He wanted to never stop…for when he did, the depression could set in. He never went to a doctor, and never got a prescription for his moodiness. That was because he never showed it openly.
He dug into his pocket and removed the picture of his wedding.
"So long ago…a lifetime before." He was young in that picture, 23, fresh from College, one impressive discovery under his belt and with shining prospects for more. Katheryn had never looked so beautiful as she had on that day, her brilliant brown hair dancing about the white fabric of her wedding dress, their hands intertwined in a bond of love as the photographer snapped the picture.
While James had studied archaeology as a major, his adoring wife had revelled in the field of robotics, addicted to schematics and wiring. The creations of Thomas Light had an enormous influence over her, and her greatest hope was that someday she could be as well known as the famed white haired doctor. Robotics had been something she had shown him…
"Oh, Katheryn…" Cain sniffled sadly. "If only you knew…" He clutched the picture to his chest. It was Katheryn that gave him the tools that he would use so many years later. Like a reversed consummation, the wife gave the husband one final gift to bear children.
Children not of human flesh and blood. Children of silicon skin and a highly advanced nanorobotic bloodstream. Reploids.
X was the closest thing Cain had to a son. An adopted son…But nonetheless, a son.
A son that Katheryn would have been proud of. Cain looked at the picture one final time, then gingerly tucked it back into his pocket.
"When I die, Katheryn…I'll come for you."
His door chittered. Cain turned his head a bit and blinked with teary eyes. He quickly rubbed a sleeve across them to absorb the salty water and spoke up haltingly. "Enter."
The hydraulic gateway slid apart and a figure walked in. Mega Man X.
"Hey doc." Came the uneasy first words. Cain kept on rocking, his back to the door. X walked in more, and then Cain detected the wafting smell of hot food.
"Brought me something to eat?" Cain ventured easily. X walked out in front of Cain and turned, nodding his head.
"Yeah…one of Hazil's recipes. Tea and sconse." Cain raised an eyebrow.
"X, do you know what a sconse is?"
"Well…"
"No, really! Do you know what a sconse is, because it occurs to me that I have no frigging clue!" Cain sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Please tell me it's got something to decrease this headache, though…" X shrugged.
"Hazil gave me a packet of painkillers to mix in with the tea. Won't kill you, but it'll alleviate your pain." Cain waved a feeble arm to his desk.
"You can put it there." X obliged the doctor, then turned back and sat down on a nearby chair.
"I thought you also might need some company…just what are you doing in here alone?"
"Thinking, X." Cain replied with a grumble. "Doing what I've always done when I'm awake. Thinking." X lowered his eyes.
"Just what about?"
"What will happen when I die." Cain replied. He lifted his head and looked at the shiny red gem on X's helmet…the helmet of his older brother, given to him as a connection to his past. "I'm the most outspoken human for reploid civil rights…the most outspoken human PERIOD for reploids. When I pass away, who will carry on the torch? Who will protect you and your kind from my people?" Cain shook his head back and forth. "It's been fourteen years since I dug you up…fourteen years since the world was forever changed by a Revolution started by me and your schematics. From 2117 to 2131. And what have we accomplished?" Cain scoffed tersely. "We've had six major Uprisings led by Sigma, a continual threat from self proclaimed Mavericks in general, a philosophical debate that had we lost, could have ended reploid kind's existence seven years ago, the downfall of countless bystanding organizations, the deaths of thousands of innocents…"
"Enough, Cain." X prodded gently. "I get the picture. We've gotten by before…we'll get by now. Just don't worry about it."
"But I do." Cain protested feebly. "I worry about everyone here. Zero, Hazil, Bastion, Doan…and you…" He looked at X with deep needy eyes. "You, X…You I worry about the most. You were torn from a peaceful existence…Zero may enjoy being a Hunter, but you…"
"Easy." X said sadly. "I've moved past the pain. I fight now to put an end to Sigma. Because when I do, then I can live. Then all reploids can live in peace. Cain, you've always been like a father to me, and…" X froze in midsentence as Cain suddenly exhaled a breath of air in an explosive outburst.
It was followed by more…James Cain was laughing. "What's so funny?" X prodded in confusion. Cain let his teary eyes glitter.
"I was about to say you were the closest thing to a son I ever had."
The two stared at one another for a long moment after that. No more words were spoken.
They didn't need to be.
"Don't die on me, Cain." X said finally. Cain smiled.
"Go keep an eye on the Hunters. I'll do a fine job of watching out for myself."
X smiled back and bounced out of the door. As he left, Cain folded his arms and leaned back into his seat, still smiling.
As he fell asleep, he could swear there was another person in the room with him. But X was gone.
"I told you you'd be proud of him, Katheryn."
"All right…yeah, I can see it." Allegro said, squinting through a magnifying lens in his left optic. Horn harrumphed and moved the armor's wing to allow him a closer view of the internal wiring.
"Great. Now, you see how this provides the structural basis for the maglev hover function?"
"Seeing it is one thing. Understanding it is something completely else." Allegro sighed, ripping the eyepiece off and rubbing at his optics. Horn had been trying to teach him theoretical electromagnetics for the past hour, and none of it was sinking in. It just wasn't in his abilities.
Julius Kinnian Horn folded his arms and plopped back into his seat, resigning the task away for the moment.
"I suppose I'm on my own for the maglev systems then."
"Let me work on installing the thruster fuel cells and recharger packs and we'll call the task even." Allegro shot back hopefully.
"All right." Horn motioned to Allegro with a weary right hand. "Hey, can I see that beam weapon of yours?" Allegro raised an eyebrow.
"What, after I almost killed you with it?" Horn rolled his eyes.
"I'm not looking to return the favor, Allegro, I just wanna see it." Allegro sighed and pulled his helmet off, shaking out his brown hair.
"All right." He reached underneath his left arm and snapped the clasps loose, releasing the beam staff's silvery cylinder into his waiting hand. He tossed it to his mentor with a soft underhanded throw, and the reploid engineer caught it easily. He examined its surface for a moment, then flipped the ignition switch. One dark pulsating beam of contained plasma lashed out from the bottom end, and Horn quickly rotated it to a horizontal position to prevent the energy blade from slashing through any furniture or equipment. He lifted it gently a few times, then looked up quizzically to Allegro. The former vigilante reploid smirked.
"Yeah, took me and Andante a while to learn how to use it. Push the button once for one blade, then you have to rotate the button to the right along the shaft for the second blade…and hold it there. Once it snaps back, it'll revert to one blade again, and if you release the switch for more than a half second, it'll extinguish automatically." Horn whistled appreciatively, activating the second beam and staring at the fully armed weapon of incredible menacing capacity for a long time. Then he released the switch, noting that it did indeed snap back and push itself free. Allegro folded his arms and grinned.
"High tension, high grade metallic springs. That's why it always sounds the same, and it won't wear out for a long time." Horn blinked his good eye, then shuttered his robotic one…the same as a blink for the odd optic, but nonetheless capable of freaking out people who hadn't been around him enough. Horn tossed it back to Allegro and leaned his chin on a pair of balled fists.
"You're capable of understanding a highly advanced dual beam saber system, and yet you're still unable to grasp the concepts of maglev?" Allegro shrugged.
"Hey, working it was the easy part. HOW it functions is beyond me, and the only thing I know is that it's high intensity metal. It can withstand a high intensity plasma torch without so much as a scratch…one time, we held an acetylene to it for five minutes, and all we got was a black scuff that came up right away. I wager it's made of TitaniTefloalloy." Horn raised an eyebrow.
"So you didn't make it?" Allegro clapped his hands together and nodded vigorously.
"You just won the booby prize, Doc! Correct. Andante and I FOUND these things…amazing what a box marked 'engine parts' with a destination of somewhere in the English countryside will get you." Horn rubbed his chin.
"Odd…couldn't have been a Maverick transport then."
"Yeah, but someone was transporting next-gen technology." Allegro said calmly, slipping the cylinder's safety back on before slinging it back into place under his arm and snapping the clasps shut over it. "We never did find out who. We just kinda…well pardon the expression, 'took the money and run.'"
"Interesting. And no one came after you?"
"No…I suppose whoever got that shipment didn't notice. I mean, it looked like there were about five hundred devices like the two we took in that one crate. Then the train security got wise and started making noise on their way back to baggage, so we just skedaddled the way we came before jumping off the side of the train and sliding down a steep muddy incline. Thank goodness there was a river underneath us." Horn frowned.
"But what were you and Andante doing in England? You were both assigned to the Greenland URFAWP recruitment and training base!"
"We were sent off on a special mission to England, Doc. Weren't told why, but we wouldn't question orders." Allegro's eyes darkened. "It was later we learned it was all a giant trap. Andante and I escaped before that Maverick…Fluid Ferret, wasn't it…struck out with that paralyzing shower of his. The rest of the recruits on that hovertransport weren't so lucky."
Allegro grew silent for a moment, then rubbed his eyes and sighed. Horn scratched at his whiskered chin.
"No, I never sent an expedition to England…that was without my knowledge." Allegro wasn't paying attention. He was musing.
"Those were good people that we lost to the Mavericks…Felicity Prowl, a sultry feraloid, Vance, an animal reploid who had the terrible misfortune of looking like a beetle…and Jetstream, the funkiest fishface ever to grace my sight. All of them were caught in Ferret's hypnosis." Allegro cackled sadly. "The biggest fear that we held was…"
"That at some point in your campaign to prevent the Mavericks of URFAWP from getting to the world…you'd have to face and destroy them."
"That would be it." Allegro replied sadly. "Even now, there are times I wonder if they're still alive…and if they are…" He shook his head and picked himself up.
"I've gotta stop doing this flashback thing, doc. Okay if I get back to work on installing the fuel packs?" Horn nodded.
"Yeah. Do the saber recharging ports while you're at it. And remember to make one larger than the other…this Doan fellow it seems, wields a very distinct and elongated beam LANCE." Allegro rolled his eyes.
"Oh, they all gotta be different." Horn grinned.
"Of course. That's what keeps the challenge fresh."
Cristoph's penthouse was pretty normal compared to any other residence Bristol could compare it to. There was the usual amount of pictures of Cristoph shaking hands and smiling with political bigwigs and celebrities…something that'd never change, Bristol supposed…
There was a refrigerator in the kitchen, although it had been cleared out. All perishable items were gone from the apartment, period. The door that led to the elevator was sealed shut, with police tape draped across the frame to prevent entry. Bristol grinned. No one suspected a person might enter from the building rooftop.
About the only thing that was left turned on was Cristoph's computer…and the mailbox was open. Bristol frowned and walked over to it.
"Odd…" She brought the mouse cursor about and tapped into the old message archives. Perhaps…perhaps something in this would lead her to MI9.
Brushing back her blond hair with red highlights, she scanned through it.
"Spam…spam…spam…A GDC general announcement…salutations from fifteen different Senators…" She froze. Here was one message dated approximately four weeks ago…
"No subject…text only…source unknown?!" She tapped onto that one. What she found…puzzled her, and also perked her ears up in interest.
The little pig is hiding in the brick house.
"Now what the devil does that mean…" Bristol mused. She rubbed at the side of her temple. Something in that seemed…ominously familiar.
And there was more like them. From two months ago…
Jill and Gretel loose…the King's Men are on the lookout.
"Ohh, Cristoph…just how deep does the rabbit hole go?" Bristol mused surprisingly. More importantly, what did those messages mean? Three months ago…
The beanstalk needs trimming.
"Oh, you are most definitely into something." Bristol growled. Something in the messages seemed so very familiar…so very familiar indeed.
It was then that Bristol thought she heard something. Something…very distinct.
Something was leaking. She pulled herself free of the computer and decided to run a trace on the final E-Mail. Hopefully, she could tag the source with an advanced program…which she had on floppy. Plugging it in, she let it run and followed her ears.
The sound emanated from the kitchen, and as Bristol approached it, her nasal sensors twinged oddly. She twitched her nose and frowned. Something smelled bad. Like natural gas…
She lifted an eyebrow, ducking her head down behind Cristoph's stove.
Sure enough, the gas mane's hose…was whipping about.
The room was filled with natural gas, and there was more where it came from. More surprising was a light timer aside the stove…and it only had ten seconds left on it before the timer ended. It was a familiar one, sitting aside a candle. These were designed to light aromatherapy wax candles when…
"Oh, God save the Queen…" Bristol wheezed suddenly. She bolted out of the room, knowing full well there was little time. But it was a big penthouse, and she couldn't use her dash thrusters without igniting the already present gas.
Her blue overcoat ruffled behind her like an angry second skin as she made crazy leaps over the various items of furniture about his suite, trying to bolt out at all costs.
But then she froze long enough to remember that her tracer program was still running.
"Damn it all…SOD IT!" She made a powerful jump across the room and landed in front of the computer.
The trace was impartial…it had only managed to route itself to the first major server used to transmit the message.
Tracing…New York…
"It'll have to do…" Bristol wheezed despairingly. There was no time to pull her disk back…a loss she'd have to take.
It was one final bolt jump that sent her hurtling through the air…something in Bristol snapped, much like all the times before that surprise allowed her to hurl bigger reploids through the air and into solid walls.
This time, that instinct allowed Bristol to crumple her body into a ball and slam through the thick glass without so much as a scratch.
She unfolded her body out from the ball, still breathless from the maneuver. Her coat had a few scratches, but was overall in good condition. More importantly she noted with a wandering hand…her purse…and the locket…and Horn's account card…were all still in her possession. As was the pink tinted beam saber tucked underneath her arm.
And then the explosion happened. It was enormous, a thundering concussion wave of flames, intense heat and superpowered compressed air that slammed into her thin body and flung her outwards from the building while knocking the wind loose from her.
She gasped for a moment as it carried her outwards, beyond the edge of the building's precipice and to the long long fall to the city streets below.
"No…" Bristol whispered hoarsely, gritting her teeth. Clenching a fist up, she activated her dash thrusters. She would come out of this alive…
She had to…for Bastion.
With the same tenacity and grit that Wycost had displayed weeks before when he disarmed Nitro Narwhal's bombs on the Aswan Dam, Bristol let out a feral scream and dashed her way through the air, moving away from the flaming wreckage towards the building fifty feet distant from her.
"Come on…come on…" She pleaded with the thrusters in her boots. But they weren't doing it. She narrowed her gaze. "So that's how it's going to be? FINE. Safeties, OFF!"
Removing dash thruster safeties is not recommended. Continue with procedure?
"Damn you…YES!"
Acknowledged. Thrust at your own discretion.
"Sod off…" Bristol growled. "MAX THRUST!" The boots responded immediately, throwing out such a burst of power it jarred her stance loose and destabilized her airborne position.
She decreased it immediately, but nonetheless it left her unable to properly maneuver…and flaming debris from Cristoph's penthouse was still raining about with the best of them.
Chunk after chunk slammed into her, causing her to grunt and curl in tighter. This time with a more stable burst, she flung herself free of the debris shower and slammed roughly into the side of the building she was aiming at.
Even dazed by that blow, she somehow managed to hold on, activating her wrist gauntlets and extending her rapelling claws. The building whined in protest for a moment as Bristol slid down the side, and she finally caught her breath.
"Bloody Hell…" She wheezed. It took a few more moments for Bristol to completely regain her awareness, but when she was done shaking her head, it finally settled in around her.
Cristoph was dead. Now his living quarters were destroyed by a bizarre accident that had almost claimed her life.
And the only clue she had to go on was that Cristoph's mysterious E-Mail transmissions routed from a server in New York.
All in all…
"Situation Normal: All Bleeped Up." Bristol wheezed finally. She began to hop up the side of the building, then winced and clutched at her stomach.
Apparently that debris had done more than she thought. Sure enough, a sharp piece of what had been something metallic had dug into her side and punctured through the synthskin and internal armor.
The damage would repair itself…given enough recuperation.
She was luckier than the building, at least. Its rooftop was completely blown off, a smoking crater of its former glory.
And the sirens below were already beginning to sound below. Fire fighting squads…and the authorities…were going to be here soon.
It was the authorities Bristol didn't want to see that much. She pulled the metallic dagger loose from her stomach and climbed the rest of her way up to the building's rooftop. Bringing her warp generator online, she picked a position on the outskirts of New York City…far from prying eyes.
"The Wild Blue Yonder beckons…" Bristol said wearily. "Curioser and curioser…" And in all of that murky ether in her skull…MI9…her instincts…Cristoph…
She couldn't help but shiver. Like there was something terrible she would find. Like MI9 had been destroyed…or it had never existed at all.
Was it all the musings of a madman…pseudo realities implanted into her mind as some cruel joke?
Anything was possible.
Her doubts faded away along with all her other thoughts as the warp generator took over…
And Bristol, the reploid seeking answers to her life, vanished into the sky above.
She did not notice the red haired, green eyed reploid standing on another building rooftop five hundred feet away…watching her burst into the stratosphere with burning, intense eyes.
"So…the rabbit ventures on." Willow mused, drawing her cape around herself and turning away.
"And like Alice…I'm left wondering just where that wee critter's off to next." Willow's eyes burned. "But I'll find ye, lass. I've got a few things to clear up."
She clenched up a hand into a fist.
"Now I just have to figure out where you've gone." Perhaps…perhaps that Wycost fellow COULD come in handy again…