MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST
By Erico
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE RESTIVE BUREAUCRATS
Geoffrey and Tim were only a pair of warriors in a far grander scheme. They knew this, they agreed with this. However, like any among their circle, knowledge of the world and what was happening in it was a must.
"I don't suppose you heard that freak lover James Cain died?" Tim mentioned unobtrusively, sipping at his hot tea.
Geoffrey nodded as he stared down at the inner workings of his beam staff and realigned the minute components. "Good riddance to 'im, I say."
"It comes as somewhat of a surprise. I thought an old coot like him'd be around for a while longer yet."
"He wouldn't make our job any easier."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Although I doubt anything's going to help the reploids when we're through. Finally, a way to be rid of every last one of them…"
"QUIET." Geoffrey hissed, snapping the metallic plate back over the hole in the cylinder. He pulled it up from the table, double checked its charge level, and ignited the blade, letting its long and menacing length of black tinted plasma glow faintly in the bright light of their room. "Nobody is supposed to talk about The Cleansing, you know that." Tim shrugged nonchalantly.
"Not like anyone around here is going to go spilling the beans. We're all in this." Tim sighed. "Those of us still left."
"Cristoph was a good member, solid. We mourn his loss…but you must know that it was reploids who killed him."
"Mavericks."
"REPLOIDS." Geoffrey bit off tersely. "Good Lord, no wonder they paired you with me. You still have a lot to learn about what we do here."
"Hey, as long as I keep doing things the way I have been, everything turns out all right." Tim replied. "But there was something weird about the explosion at Cristoph's D.C. Apartment."
"What??"
"His PC had a floppy disk inserted in the drive. Our inside man with the police examined it down in the evidence locker, and you'll never believe what it was…or who made it."
"Oh??" Geoffrey said, finally intrigued by Tim's mindless babble.
"It was a program designed to follow a signal source."
"And who wrote it??"
Tim told him. Geoffrey blinked a few times, then sat back and exhaled.
"My God, my God…" He mumbled in disbelief. "She's still alive?? Have you told our superiors?"
"They told me." Tim said darkly. "Along with the mission profile. It seems you and I have been specially conscripted, my friend." Geoffrey's eyes betrayed no surprise at that.
He knew perfectly well why they were being sent to do this. They had to find her…
Before she made her way back and put a stop to The Cleansing.
"But she didn't escape us alone." Geoffrey said. "That red-haired one, you know, the stereotypical Irish humanoid reploid…"
"Willow." Tim finished. "We don't know if they both survived. Or if they did, if they're working together. We go on this search blind."
"That makes our chances of success minimal." Geoffrey said quietly. Tim gave an easygoing shrug as his associate tucked his beam staff away, the blade extinguished.
"Well, Geoffrey old boy…do we really have a choice to not succeed??"
The answer was, of course, an unequivocal no.
Zero stared up at the chronometer that always ticked with pinpoint accuracy.
20 June 2131, 1002 Hrs
He harrumphed for a moment at that, then turned down to the nearest operator, whose job was to keep a lookout all over the world with his highly advanced search program for signs of Maverick activity.
"Hey, we got any blips on our scope?" Zero muttered dourly, with the same force of voice that implied a response--and a quick one at that. The tech looked up and shook his head, then turned back and did more scanning.
Zero harrumphed again. Here at the Maverick Hunters, there were more people working on base than just the ones who went outside the walls and fought off Sigma's hordes. You had the equipment engineers down in the hangar, who provided transportation, 'Mechs and the like, you had your operators, whose job was to sit around in the War Room and keep the world under constant surveillance. You had the Medical Staff--Well, that was just Hazil for the most part, unless the situation was BAD. Then the other reploids trained for medical duties would hop in and give a hand, much to Hazil's muttering and swearing. Of course, you had your janitors, your data analysts and...
"Frackit." Zero grumbled. The list was too long, and he wasn't one to drop into using the sort of brainpower required to dredge them all up. That was X's job. Zero's was to teach the Maverick Hunter newbies how to fight and live, and how to be very good at it. A few caught on, and those with the most promise were dropped into his #00 Unit. Which, strangely enough, was filled with close combat psychos like himself. Those who didn't quite get the picture were assigned to other, lesser Units. It was just how things went.
What Zero could say with the utmost pride and respect was that there was another Unit fast climbing towards his in respect and prestige. Bastion's Unit, the 21st. It was affectionately nicknamed "The Lightning Strike", after Germany's 'Blitzkrieg' attacks so long ago. Bastion's motto for his team went that they were THE Lightning Strike, because they never strike twice, and never leave anything standing where they do. Part Buster users, part beam saber aficionados, Bastion succeeded in joining the two together into a cohesive whole. And he taught them to work together, to breathe together, to live together, like no other Unit could. Yes, there were better 'solo' Hunters in the organization, but Zero had to admit that as far as an overall Unit went, Bastion's 21st ranked up there.
"There now, that didn't take too much brainpower." Zero grumbled. The nearby tech who he'd bothered a moment before looked up.
"Pardon??"
"I said, GIMME A BEER!" Zero hollered jovially.
"I think I can do that." Came a gruff and familiar voice. Zero looked over to the grizzled frame of Hazil walking through the door, then caught the can of Heineken that the Medical Reploid threw his way. Hazil looked at Zero with an appreciative stare. "Hey Crimson, I need to talk to you for a sec." Hazil's stare implied a tone of seriousness to him, and although a new recruit might look at Hazil and see nothing but a constant glaze of bitterness, Zero had long since learned over the years that the Medical Reploid from Britain had his moods as well, just that the differences were unbelievably subtle.
"Righto. Where?"
"Cain's office." Hazil chirped. A few faces turned to gawk at the medical reploid for a moment longer, stunned that he should even dare mention the now holy name of Cain, and even more, threaten to desecrate his abode. Hazil folded his arms and stared right back. "Listen you greens, I miss the guy too. But I spent more than 13 years giving him his shots, his lollipops and his alcohol. I ain't gonna go marching in there and throw paint all over the walls, SO GET BACK TO WORK!!" Hazil's voice escalated into a shrill shriek at the end of his sentence, and every reploid in the room cringed. Even Zero. Abashed, they turned back to their station monitors and did as Hazil commanded. For someone whose war was saving lives on an operating table and not with a Buster or plasma sword, he still carried a very menacing air that nobody wanted to cross.
Zero walked with Hazil through the main exit and then made a sharp left turn to Cain's front door.
"Door open, clearance Hazil-TwoGeeNiner."
"Authorization accepted." Came the familiar feminine computer generated voice of the actor who played Ginger on the old 20th Century TV show Gilligan's Island. Even with Cain gone, the slight modifications and alterations he'd left behind served as living memory. The door hissed open, and Zero and Cain walked in.
"Good thing you locked that door shut. I'd hate to see this place wrecked." Zero muttered. Hazil nodded.
"I gave you, me, and X access. That's it. I don't even trust Bastion with this much at stake." The room was filled with the familiar dim blue light Cain had insisted his room have, and Sigma II still swam around in his goldfish bowl. Well, this was more or less Sigma II the 14th or something, but Cain never did have the time to rename his goldfish, or the desire to actually remember what they were called. So Sigma II it had been, for countless years. Since before the World Trial of 2124, at least.
Both unable to sit down in Cain's comfy office chair, they resorted to using the less comfortable chairs set out for visitors.
"So what did you need to talk to me about??" Zero asked. Hazil opened his large chest compartment up and pulled out a datapadd. Actually, it wasn't that much larger than any other normal reploid's chest compartment, it was just that Hazil never needed to carry around Heart Tanks or Sub-Tanks with him.
"This." Hazil said quietly, lightly tossing it to Zero, who caught it without blinking an eye. As Zero perused the contents, Hazil spoke. "I did some research on Signas. He's the GDC's Golden Boy, all right…Their most highly advanced reploid model ever. He's sort of a living data cruncher, if you will, better than you, me, and probably even X at sifting through that shit the data analysts slug out and coming to a sound conclusion."
"Yes, but where's he from?"
"Where are YOU from??" Hazil said drily, staring at Zero. The Crimson Hunter looked up, a foul smirk on his face. Of course, the both of them knew THAT detail. Zero was Wily's bastard child, his final creation, the one who was supposed to destroy Mega Man X, but had long ago(For more than a year now) managed to finally do away with all of that impulse and do what he knew in his heart was the right thing.
"Let's not go into my questionable lineage." Zero sighed. "I get tired of reliving a past I can't remember, and don't want to. So let's get back to the guy we've all learned to hate, despite the fact we've never met him."
"Well, if you want a look at his picture, it's in there." Hazil motioned. Zero clicked a few notches down, and indeed, there it was.
Signas stood at a fair height, taller than Zero, who was a little taller than X. So he was in the green giant category, almost to where Sigma usually towered. His armor was dually functional in design, resembling a sort of officer's uniform with its grey and black finish, as well as the stocky wheel shoulders. Everything about Signas seemed to scream immense physical power.
"I take it he's strong?" Zero asked with an upraised eyebrow. Hazil shook his head.
"No more powerful than any other reploid, I'm afraid. Remember, this is the GDC we're talking about. Not Mavericks. Mavericks WOULD build strength into larger frames, but this guy works for bureaucrats. The size factor is crucial in one thing only; all the damn negotiating he's done in his career. Intimidation, and the GDC's learned that well."
"And I take it his career in the GDC was uneventful?" Zero asked. Hazil clicked his tongue.
"I dunno if you recall, but we do have an official GDC liason who's supposed to tell us to jump, and how high. The last one retired after the Repliforce incident, which was another one of the organizations he watched out over. I suppose the twat felt guilty for telling us to go kill our friends."
Zero didn't respond to that. For once, he fell silent. No snide remark, no cutting comeback uttered from his lips. And Hazil knew damn well why. Zero HAD killed friends. Like Iris and the Colonel.
"So anyhow, that snotbrain booted himself out, and this Signas guy rolled into the same cooshy position. Of course, WE never heard anything about it. Didn't have to. Cain did a fantastic job of keeping the GDC's grubby little fingers out of our lucky charms, and so we never heard a peep from 'em all. So although Signas's position was General of the Maverick Hunters in the GDC's eyes, Cain saw him as little more than a highly paid drone who wouldn't breathe unless he was told to. I, frankly, abide by Cain's decision on that."
"I think I can follow it from here." Zero sighed, drawing a hand over his face. "With Cain out of the way, the GDC realized its days of being left outside of our front door was gone. Without Cain, without a HUMAN of high standing and prestige to slap their wrists and tell 'em to Feck off, they could push right in. Because we, being mere reploids, can't argue. That would be like going Maverick, at least in their murderous eyes."
"So in other words, my dear Zero, we're going down shit creek. And we go over the waterfall tomorrow at 1 in the Afternoon." Hazil said plainly. "You might want to share Signas's dossier with X and the other Unit Commanders. Knowledge is the only thing we can arm ourselves with now."
"Just great. Just Feckin' great." Zero snapped. "Knowledge, Christ. That's bull." And Hazil knew why Zero was so dour.
This was one enemy he couldn't tear to ribbons. And Zero needed to. So very desperately, he needed the ability to smash aside their problems with all his usual candor and grace.
Then again, Restive Bureaucrats are hardly a Maverick regime. But their influence was just as poisonous.
"Wycost, you used to be a policeman, right??"
"Well, yeah…"
"Then use some investigative skills for a change." Tia had sighed in exasperation when he'd called her, once more at a dead end. "For all the traveling about and remaining anonymous she does, there's a trail. One that you should be able to follow, considering you LIVED in that town for more than 10 years. I care for you, I really do, but I swear, I'm beginning to get visions of things that frankly are beginning to worry me."
"Anything I need to know about?"
"Nothing you won't find out in due course."
"Christ, you're just like Isaiah…" Wycost had mumbled. "You give some of the craziest answers and expect me to go on them."
"Do I really have to spell this out for you?? What she's looking for is her lost past, and although I don't have much of a clue as to what exactly that past entails, I'm pretty sure she'd go somewhere where there's lots of information on a variety of topics, historical in nature. You told me there was something off about her, correct?"
"When Hazil gave her her primary checkup when she arrived, there was all too clear evidence that she'd been made for more than paper pushing. Two time Air-Dash Thrusters aren't commonplace, and they're hard to make. Expensive suckers. I only have one time Air-Dash."
"Well, to use an old phrase Wycost, visit your local library." The enigmatic Chinese woman had said before chuckling a bit and hanging up the phone, supposedly to tuck her children in.
And that of course, was the big winner. Tia Xiang's psychic hotline at work again, and more accurate than those ones on the television who spoke about things like love lives and all that. Wycost was a reploid who needed cold, hard facts. Not bizarre predictions or slightly accurate guesses. And Tia knew them, although at times she stubbornly refused to grant him that. And the Bronx Bomber could understand that. This was his mission, his penance for all the suffering he'd brought in his long life of destruction. Not hers.
So here he was, in the gigantic library. One that Bristol had been in two days before, according to the reference section librarian, who easily forked over the same materials for Wycost that she had borrowed for her brief span of time…as soon as Wycost had shown her his MSWAT badge. It no longer adorned on his leather jacket or chevron chest armor plate, but was tucked away inside his pocket, replaced for him by his thoughtful long-time comrades of New York's civil peacekeepers. He didn't work for them now, and they understood that…he was with the Hunters now, a far more important goal. And he'd long ago passed his two years of manual servitude with them. In a sense, he was a legend, a figurehead. A symbol of undaunted perserverance and protection of the cause. And even in retirement, he carried weight here. Wycost harrumphed. Maybe after all this was over, he'd come back and train the new MSWAT to actually fight and work together, same as Bastion had shown him and the 21st to do.
He stared down the mess of papers and files she'd checked out.
"The Second Rainbow, huh…" Wycost muttered. He had no way of knowing that the Second Rainbow led to MI9, which was what Bristol was actually searching for. For him, he was shining a flashlight in the dark in a stormy blizzard, not looking through the air as much as trying to follow her slightly covered up footprints. And having a rather bad rut of it.
All the information available seemed to indicate that his next destination would be Alaska. So he packed up the files and gently dragged them back to the librarian, who gave a weak smile as the imposing black haired reploid handed them back over the counter and begrudgingly nodded his head.
"Thanks."
"I suppose you found what you were looking for…is that young woman who checked out the materials in any sort of trouble?" The librarian asked weakly. Wycost's mouth curled up into a half smile and he shook his head.
"No, she isn't in any trouble. I've just been asked to keep an eye on her. She's very special to a dear friend of mine."
"Well, she's long gone now, that was four days ago."
"Doesn't matter. I know where she's headed and I can catch up with her." Wycost said easily.
"And just where is that?"
"Someplace very cold and very forgotten." Wycost said with a wink. He turned about and walked out of the facility, heading back towards his old home in New York to say his final goodbyes before he once more vanished to a different locale.
He didn't notice the figure scrunched behind an old paper, hardbound copy of the King James Bible, large and tall as he walked out of that library. But the figure behind it had heard every word, and she slowly set it down on the table and peered after his long gone form.
"So then, the wee lass has gone off to Alaska. I should have known…she's having to start from the very beginning of all this mess." Willow sighed in exasperation and walked to the same reference counter, handing the old book over. Then she too, walked out of the room. But unlike Wycost, she had no last pit stops to make before her departure.
In broad daylight, just in front of the exiting doors to the streets outside, she vanished in a flash of light, leaving a lot of people very surprised and startled.
Willow was once more hot on the trail. And for a change, farther ahead than Wycost.
She had no doubts that their paths would cross again.
Everything was ready…the blueprints and schematics had been cleared, the operations date had been set, and the necessary materials had been supplied from the bases' stores.
Now came the most difficult part of the operation…
Sigma stood over Iris, lying flat on her back on the cold metal cot of the Medical Facility, her clear wide eyes staring up at him with trust, with determination.
"All the preparations are finished, Iris." Sigma said with cold precision. "But, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?" The female reploid took in a deep breath as nervous anticipation set in again, but her voice was clear.
"I won't just sit back and watch my associates, my friends, be killed off by the Hunters. I will do something about it." And once more, that undeniable grin of Sigma's flashed into life. The same grin he gave to his foes and friends alike, a cold faceless smile with no precise meaning, but a gesture that curdled every Hunter's and human's blood.
"You are indeed strong, Iris. I shall make you stronger." Her timid hand reached up and grasped around his bulky wrist, and her eyes locked with his cold red ones.
"I trust you…Sigma." Her eyes glazed over at that and she dropped into stasis, her eyelids drooping shut and every muscle and servo in her body slowly whining down into quiet.
She is mine…now and forever more, this nymph known as Iris is MINE. Not Zero's…Ohh my yes, Iris, you don't know how incredibly happy your decision makes me.
Clothed only in her black body suit, Iris lay in helpless stasis, her fate now in Sigma's hands. And despite himself, the coldblooded and heartless leader of the Mavericks chuckled.
Kazok stood nearby, anxiously awaiting a report from Sigma. He'd walked through the door, just after Iris's last sentence.
"Sir?" He queried slowly, staring down at Iris. "She really decided to go through with it."
"After seeing what you and your team went through, Iris has convinced herself that she can't allow you to face that kind of danger alone." And she decided it herself…no trace of the Maverick Viruses' influence lies within her…which makes her choice, and the inevitable conflict that more poisonous and gleeful…
"We're hardly alone, sir." Kazok said stiffly, arching his back. "Dash just overestimated her capabilities a little. We're working on that deficiency with training. But will Iris here be training with us from now on?"
"No, she won't." Sigma said shortly, never once turning around to look at his subordinate. Over his days here, Kazok had become accustomed to Sigma's quirky mannerisms, his subdued and self-absorbed nature, and the roiling sea of conflict within his mind he kept hidden from them all. "I've said it before Kazok, in so many words. Her purpose is not to fight alongside you. She will have her own mission in due course…she shall fight by MY side."
"She'd stand a better chance with us. More targets to aim at, more firepower to rely on." At this, Sigma finally did stiffen up and turn to look at Kazok with incredulous disbelief, hints of rage beginning to show.
"I would hope you aren't questioning my judgement, Kazok…I've killed fellow Mavericks for lesser matters." The black haired and black armored reploid stared straight at Sigma, betraying nothing.
"If that is what you feel is best, I shall abide by your decision." Kazok said stonily. Sigma fumed a bit before shaking his head.
"My decision is final, and it is law. Live with it." Sigma turned back to Iris and spoke with that same air of distanced snobbery. "Now get out of my sight. I have work to do."
Kazok bowed in a gesture Sigma could not see, then turned about and walked out of the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. Cumulus Bull was at his side almost immediately, peering at his leader for answers.
"So? Whaddid he say?"
"Enough." Kazok clipped. "Iris is being converted for combat, but she won't fight alongside us." Cumulus shrugged.
"Just as well. I mean, Sigma IS our boss, and he's been doing this for more years than we have. He knows what he's doing, his choices are sound ones."
Kazok was seriously beginning to doubt that.
"Pleasant." Gavin grumbled, tossing the datapadd down. Jad and Kol looked over to him across the cafeteria table, lifting their eyes from their own datapadds. "This is just not a nice year, is it fellas?" Jad grinned, always the hothead.
"Well, there's plenty of asskicking to be had."
"Keep thinking like that and you're gonna end up slagged some day." Kol chirped in reply. "Play it cool, all right? At least for now."
"YOU play it cool." Jad mumbled. "I'm itching for combat, and my Buster's hot. Sigma just gained another mark on my 'reasons to kill' tally for this stunt."
"So he's taken URFAWP reploids and recruited them for his own sick desires." Gavin muttered in reply. "Wouldn't be the first time he's pulled a stunt like this. Doppler's bunch, the 1st Unit, Repliforce…he has a knack of doing that. If you want a historical reference, Wily also made a habit of swiping other people's robots and corrupting them to his own twisted motives. So you could say this whole evil despot thing is predictable from generation to generation." Although Gavin made that connection, the one he couldn't make was how Wily, was in fact, responsible for Sigma's condition and job status, thanks to the Maverick Virus developed as part and partial to Zero's design. Lack of knowledge, an especially dangerous knowledge to boot.
"Still, it doesn't give you a happy feeling to know you're chasing down reploids who used to be harmless." Kol muttered. "I mean, NOW they're Mavericks, but…"
"A Maverick is a Maverick, PERIOD." Jad asserted grimly. "Doesn't matter who they were before or what they might be. You fry the bastard then and there."
"Oh? And just what about Wycost, eh?" Gavin mentioned drily, looking across the table. "When we got him back from his little stint at URFAWP, HE was Maverick…and yet even though he'd fried Bastion's Powerstorm Armor, wreaked havoc, and basically scared the living crap outta all of us, he still lived."
"That was a stupid decision on the part of our superiors." Jad grumbled, pulling his helmet off and ruffling his short hair. "Stupid decision."
"Perhaps my next one will be to ship you off to the GDC, hmm??" Came a gruff and growly voice. The Trio froze up at the arrival, and Jad suddenly felt a firm hand clamp down on his shoulder. Jad felt his mouth go dry, and he was unable to swallow.
Slowly turning his head around, he found himself staring at a frowning Bastion.
"Just to clarify matters, Jad, some Mavericks aren't true Mavericks. The Repliforce as a whole was wrongly condemned, and in the end, their leader, the General, self-destructed himself to obliterate the Final Weapon and end its countdown. He wasn't Maverick, in the sense he hated humans and acted towards their eventual extinction. And in Wycost's case, he was more valuable alive than dead. He's a Hunter first and foremost, and despite the unforseen infection that resulted in his Maverickism, he snapped out of it without even a trace left and turned around to blunt the attack at Cairo. A Maverick is not just a Maverick, Jad. There's far various levels."
Not to mention that Wycost is currently on the trail of the woman I love, bound and determined that she'll make it back alive and well, and more secure with her past than when she left.
Jad was visibly paler, and he offered a meek nod. Bastion gave a final shake of his head and started walking off, shaking his head. There were still things left to do before tomorrow crashed down with all the force of an anvil.
He found that Gavin, coolheaded and trustworthy Gavin, the ringleader of the Trio was at his side as he walked along.
"Shouldn't you be with the other two and helping the 21st train some more for this?" Bastion asked in a weary tone of voice.
"We're doing just fine, boss." Gavin said. "You trained us as best you knew how, there's little more to be done at this stage in the game. I'm just sort of stunned that we're having to go up against URFAWP veterans now."
"Sigma likes to play with lives. It's his livelihood." Bastion chirped, knowing that detail all too well, due to his interactions with X and Zero during the Fifth Uprising. Wycost had been there as well. "And although we can't help them now, I had to make the point to Jad. He hates the Mavericks, but he hates them blindly."
Gavin thought on that for a long moment, then harrumphed.
"Guess he does." Gavin shook his head and looked forward as they continued to plod along, no definite destination in mind. "And you're obviously doing better than you were. We were all relieved when you snapped out of that depressive mindset and became The Desert Fire again."
"Natch that, Gav." Bastion corrected firmly. "I'm the Desert Angel." Gavin grinned oddly at that.
"And just how is your woman these days?"
"Out, exploring, without a clue that Wycost's close on her heels. She's fine, and sent word to me 2 days ago. It's a glorious thing to get letters from the field." Bastion replied, an easygoing smile returning to his worried face.
"I might have to give this love thing a try one of these days." Gavin grunted.
"If you can find someone who won't kill you for eating those peanut butter and jalepeno topped bagels." Bastion said with a wider grin.
"Yep. You know, if Cain were still around…" Gavin's mouth clamped shut, and their uneasy air of cheerfulness vanished in a puff of smoke.
Cain had died now 3 days ago. And it still hurt them all to think about it.
If anyone could cause Cleo to snap out of a full bore diagnostics trance, it was the usually morose Doan.
The silvery armored reploid casually walked up behind the vision of beauty as she sat in her chair, her mind focused only on the video footage taken of the 27th Armory's interior during the attack 3 days ago, her right hand up at her chin, her calm eyes narrowed in obvious scrutiny.
That was, until Doan reached his head down and playfully nibbled at her neck.
She yelped in surprise and bolted forward, turning about in shock before it subsided with the recognition of the only person who could ever do that to her and not get his neck broken.
"Sheezus, Doan, don't surprise me like that."
"I thought you liked surprises." Doan mumbled, his mouth in its usual state of emotionless grace, but his eyes twinkling with a light Cleo could clearly mark as contented happiness. Cleo sighed, unable to stay mad or miffed at the morose marauder for very long. She folded her arms up and planted a kiss on the side of his cheek before sitting back down.
"Sorry, you just caught me staring at this."
"What is this?"
"Videotape footage of the URFAWP Mavericks who attacked the 27th Armory 3 days ago." Cleo said. "Highly classified, only the Hunters and the GDC have a hold on this. I'm stuck staring at this and trying to figure out what makes their new weapons tick. Which means that, for the moment at least, my great gray puppy dog, your wings project is on hold. At least at my end." Doan's face fell a little at that, as much as his already dour face was CAPABLE of falling, and he sighed.
"What about THEIR end?" Meaning of course, J.K. Horn and Allegro, out on their hidden island abode. Cleo shrugged.
"They're looking at the designs, but this whole mess has slowed them down as well."
"Yar, the Mavericks have perfect timing for this bull. Right when we lose Cain and have a GDC newbie come marching in." Doan muttered. Cleo sighed.
"Please, don't get too glum on me, pooch." Doan knelt down and kissed her forehead, sighing back.
"All right, Cleo, I'll try not to." The female reploid giggled a bit and nodded.
"Thanks, hun." She froze the image just as the security forces were being swatted aside by two masses of energy, perhaps plasma, that moved as if a sentience was in control. Doan harrumphed.
"That's a trick I'd like." Doan said, pulling off his helmet and ruffling his short hair. "One of the new Maverick's weapons?"
"Apparently, inherent to the one that looks like a Dolphin. Jestream, wasn't it??"
"Yup. So you're saying these energy hands are things that the new Dolphin type Maverick can make?"
"Yes. The others have even stranger powers, but what's incredible about them is that they work TOGETHER. There's no areas of control, no axes of evil. Just a bunch of Maverick Generals running around and kicking ass…and doing a fine job of it."
"Sounds like their new strategy's effective then."
"Devastatingly so." Cleo mentioned, typing a few keys in. "That's as much as I have so far. Would you be a dear and relay the new info through the message chain for me?" Doan took a datapadd from Cleo's desk and checked for the data she had mentioned, then nodded an affirmative. The engineering reploid of the MHHQ's Hangar gave Doan a quick and affectionate kiss, then waved him off. "Don't get lost now!" She called out after him.
Some of the other techs in the Hangar watched him with their usual level of good humor and rumor milling as he walked out. His face betrayed nothing to them.
As long as your light shines, Cleo, I'll never be lost.
It was early, sometime in the black hours of the 21st of June when Sigma pushed the last vestiges of his surgical gear away and reached a trembling hand down to Iris.
She was changed now, adorned in heavy battle armor constructed of durable tempered metals and a thin coating of TitaniTefloAlloy as an outer shell. She now had Dash Boots, one time Air-Dash functional. Most importantly, she carried a high powered pistol grip magrifle, a pink bladed beam saber, and a pair of yellow beam daggers.
Iris was now a weapon of war…Sigma's weapon. Shining red and blue, and an ominous black in the dim green light of the room, Iris lay there, totally unaware of the bizarre and unnatural process Sigma had done unto her.
"Awake, my dear." Sigma breathed, typing in the restart command to her Control Chip.
She broke free from stasis, and a few minutes later, finally opened her eyes, her body weak and feeble as it registered the new enhancements and gadgetry that had been pushed into her frail body. Dazedly, she turned her gaze to a blur of colors that she knew within her heart was Sigma.
"Did it work??" She croaked, her voice synthesizer's power feed still weak. Sigma grinned his usual grin.
"Perfectly." Iris managed a weak smile before her body slowed itself down into semi-stasis, not as deep as the one she had been in before, but necessary for her body to grow used to its new functions and abilities, and to recuperate from the downtime.
Sigma's menacing hand-a hand that killed hundreds in its time-gingerly reached up and brushed back a strand of her sheen filled auburn hair. It was a gesture unexpected by Sigma, who pulled back with slight recoil.
"Sleep well tonight, my Iris." He whispered as he walked out of the room to drop into stasis himself for a while.
"Tomorrow it begins."