Mega Man X: Demons Of The Past

by Erico

The fight never ends, and two weeks past the end of TSOM, a new Chronicle is begun...

22. Pieces Of Eternity

MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST

By Erico

CHAPTER TWENTY: PIECES OF ETERNITY

"Well folks, we have some good news for you for a change. The Maverick Hunters, despite the recent loss of their beloved Dr. Cain, the founder of the reploid race and the Maverick Hunter Headquarters, based in New Tokyo, Japan, declared victory earlier tonight after a climactic battle on the outskirts of Hokkaido Island. The newest batch of Mavericks, which the GDC has identified as infected ex-members of the defunct peace organization URFAWP, were all destroyed in a brilliant strategy concocted by the new General of the Maverick Hunters, a reploid named Signas. Signas stated that it was a great victory for the Hunters, and hopefully a sign of things to come. J.K. Horn, the enigmatic and mysterious founder of the disbanded URFAWP organization, was not available for comment.

In other news, satellites picked up a rather strange heat signature on the continent of Antarctica around the same time. Initial fears of glacial ice melting have proven to be unfounded, though, and satellite images of the area show nothing unusual. The source of this disturbance is as of yet, unknown…"

-Television news broadcast late on the night of June 25th, 2131, Japan standard time

June 26th, 2131 A.D.

2 A.M.

In a darkened room, somewhere in the German city of Berlin, a council of men all convened, sitting down silently in the dim lighting around a large circular table made of natural wood…an expensive order, seeing as more than 99% of all forest growth nowadays was Treeborg wood.

They sat in shadows because it was the shadows that they trusted, that they had all lived in for years. Their organization had been hidden longer than most of them had been alive, and those that had been had only been babies at the group's conception, mere children in a world gone mad. Except for one of the ten, and he sat in a chair designated obviously to be the seat of the leader.

It was a council of ten, ten men from around the world united under a single purpose, a lone invisible flag. And today, they were grim, but very awake despite the time. They had already been here, awaiting the good news. News that never came.

"Ice Beacon has fallen." The leader spoke up calmly, in a rumbly and grave voice. "Thus, the Cleansing has been put on indefinite hold."

"Do we know how those…interlopers managed to succeed?" Another man, about middle aged asked darkly. The first man, obviously the eldest in the room shook his head.

"We can assume, given the nature of the previous day's traumatic events, and the fall of our main headquarters in England, that the escaped reploids Willow and Bristol played a large part in it."

"But what about video cameras, images of the base's security systems??" A third man asked, his accent distinctly American. "Surely they would have turned up something."

"Oh, I imagine that we would have had a wealth of information on our saboteurs…were it not for the fact that the computer storage banks were rendered completely inoperative and unsalvageable thanks to high intensity plasma fire." The first man announced. "The blast marks seem to indicate that it came from a Buster of some sort. The same kind used by military grade reploids. No, I'm afraid that outside of our educated guesses about Willow and Bristol's involvement, we are in the dark as to any others that might have taken part in the exercise. Even worse, Ice Beacon is a total writeoff. We have no copy of the Universal Berserker Frequency…So we're right back where we started."

"I don't believe this is happening…" A fourth man spoke up, probably in his thirties. His voice was one of stunned disbelief. "First we lose MI9 HQ, and now Ice Beacon…and the UBF, gone as if we'd never had it??" His trembling hand reached for the glass of water in front of him. "Our organization is doomed to crumble at this rate."

"SILENCE." The lead man barked, slamming his fist on the table. Every other representative in the room jumped…rarely had their most respected member reacted so violently before.

In the darkness, they could see his eyes smoulder, burning with a frustrated anger the eldest of the ruling council had almost never displayed. This was the first time in five years he had exploded like this.

"Such thoughts are not only preposterous, they are defeatist and dare I say it, even traitorous to our cause." He took in a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes. "From its founding, MI9, the derivative of the anti-technology faction of the Second Rainbow, has waded through troubled waters. There was a time, believe it or not my dear associates, that this cause had no base, had no grand schemes…we merely waited in the shadows and let our arms and eyes and ears grow wider. Today, our influence throughout the world is all thanks to that work we did in the shadows."

The elderly man stood up, his shaky arm reaching down and putting a walking cane onto the ground, rubber tip digging at the cold floor. "We have been wounded, gentlemen. Of this there can be no doubt. We can grieve for the loss of our hidden headquarters, and we can be angry that The Cleansing has been halted. But we are not gone, and MI9 is most definitely still alive."

Somehow, seeing their eldest member standing there, grim and determined even in what most thought was their darkest hour, the rest in the council of ten found support and determination.

"We came from the shadows…If we must return to them for a few more years, then it shall be so." The elder concluded. "Whoever did this had to have been with Willow and Bristol. Only those two particular MI9 defectors would have all the information, all the skills and knowhow to pull off such an assault. But now they're running blind. They don't know if we're gone or not, and even if they do assume that MI9 is not out of the game, they don't know where to begin." He smirked. "The ball is soundly in our court…no matter what our losses, it's a brand new ball game."

The council waited a few moments, then finally, a representative that sounded Australian spoke up.

"Was there anything at Ice Beacon worth recovery??"

Another council member cleared his throat, pulling up an old fashioned legal paper notepad. "Everything in the base of crucial value was destroyed. As we speak, our recovery teams are stripping the rest bare and preparing to remove all traces of our presence on the Antarctic continent."

"Was anyone left alive??"

"It depends on what you refer to as alive…" The notepad wielding councilman said, sliding the yellow pages across the table. The Australian representative snatched it up and stared at the name and attached photograph, then whistled.

"Crikey…Hang that one out to dry, there's no way he could have survived that…"

"Effectively, he didn't." The eldest announced, hobbling over to stare at the photograph for confirmation. "Yes…him. No, I'm afraid that the only reason we saw fit to not put him in a coffin was that his brain is still alive…it flashfroze, along with the rest of him. The only part of his vitals that didn't survive were his lungs…astoundingly enough, the damage missed his heart."

"So what do you plan to do with him??"

"I really haven't decided yet." The eldest mused. "But until this council reaches a decision one way or another, I've ordered him to be stored just as we found him…on ice."

The eldest member hobbled back to his seat and exhaled as he relaxed back into his chair.

"So. I think that clears matters up. You are all to ensure that contact is established throughout our communications networks. MI9's headquarters may be destroyed, but I will not stand for chaos and dissension in the ranks because of a mere setback." He spoke sternly again. "Do we have consensus?"

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus."

"Consensus." The eldest member of the council of ten finished with a wan smile.

The lights in the room clicked off, and as silently as they had entered, the men left.

There were things left to do.

9 A.M. Japan Standard Time

MHHQ, New TokyoJapan

June 28th, 2131

The Maverick Hunter Headquarters, a longstanding symbol of hope for the world gone horribly mad, rose as it usually did. The smell of cinnamon rolls, exotic coffees and teas of all tastes and strengths wafted from the kitchen and dining room facilities. The two bars inside of the MHHQ's main building had closed up shop four hours before…well, had tried to. Only now did the last of the inebriated and hung over patrons shuffle out of their alcohol induced comas and back into bright lights and pounding headaches.

But there were a few differences. One was a feeling of emptiness that carried through the barracks. More than twenty Hunters had been lost in the most recent conflict…and those were numbers and names that would be sorely missed. Kept in memory, spoken of warmly. The Hunters did not forget their dead, they honored them. Comrades and friends, and sometimes even lovers gone on to the next world, to a place where wars didn't have to happen and soldiers could finally put their guns and medals away.

Those whose bodies survived had two ways of being handled. Warp disassembly, letting the fallen Hunters be claimed by the grip of a warp transporter and then having their atoms scattered across the skies or whatever ground they held close to…or burial. Rare was it that Hunters who were killed in action were in any shape for resurrection, and even then reviving a reploid whose life had been severed short was a difficult task at best. Most often chose to let their former allies remain dead than to suffer the pain of having them revived without their full memories and personality intact, a nearly unavoidable side effect of the process.

Things were for the most part, quiet. Normal activities resumed at a slightly slower, more somber pace. It would take some time for the wounds to heal, but that was nothing new. Cycles like this had been happening at the Maverick Hunter Headquarters since the end of the First Maverick Uprising, and didn't seem to have any definite stop anytime soon.

The grave of James T. Cain lacked an honor guard on this morning…the guard was off at a respectful distance, watching but not listening as Mega Man X, dressed now in T-Shirt and jeans and brown leather jacket, stood at the foot of his monument with his head lowered.

"Hey, doc." X finally began slowly. "I suppose…suppose it's been a while since I stopped by. I guess I haven't really felt the compulsion to since…you passed away." X's voice was calm and subdued, reverently silent as he talked to the grave of the man who had been the closest thing to a father he'd had for years.

The grave said nothing back. Even the wind was silent for a change. X sighed and continued.

"I…Zer…" X sighed and shook his head, pulling a hand up to rub at his eyes. "We beat Sigma again, for what good it'll do us. He'll just come back again with some other crazy scheme. But I've got a happy note to report for a change. We were worried that Signas…the guy the GDC sent in to take your place would mess up everything. But it seems that he's learned a few new things in his short time here. Things like emotions, oddly enough, as well as loyalty. What we do here is a good thing, and I think Signas is going to act from now on to protect the Hunters' interests. Hell, he even came up with the plan that let us shut down Sigma."

X froze for a moment, seeming to age a bit. "And then there's Zero. God, Cain. He's been hit hard…harder than ever before. He wasn't even this bad after Repliforce, but now…"

A gust of wind blew by, chillier than usual for late June. Then again, today had some rather odd weather. The meteorologists didn't know how to explain it, but X shrugged it off as the sky and heavens tapping into the emotions of troubled souls on earth.

"Sigma resurrected Iris. Or at least, created a new Iris body and let the struggling spirit form all the wrong conclusions. That option's far more viable, given that Iris and everyone else on the Final Weapon was turned into space dust." X scuffed his toe into the ground. "When we took out all the new Maverick Generals, all of which had been under URFAWP employ at some earlier point in their lives, Iris's flame got snuffed out too. She died protecting Sigma from a bullet that would have barely slowed him down."

X paused for a moment longer, trying to form in his mind what to say. But he was finding that very hard…because what couldn't he say?

"Zero just lost it. There's only been one other time I've seen his eyes like that, but it wasn't as bad as it was now. Because he was thinking then, and the time before…" X shut his eyes. "I don't know what he turned into, doc. But he wasn't the Zero I knew. He was something else then."

The thing that I dread most is not Sigma…it's Zero, if he ever lost himself.

"I found him lying in a torn heap, battle scarred worse than I've seen him in a long time. And he was crying. And what he did to Sigma…Doc, it was sick. Whatever sort of lunatic Zero turned into when he and Sigma fought, I hope has died and gone far far away. You couldn't fillet Sigma's remains any better if you were a professional butcher, but Zero somehow did far better."

Kind of like how Sigma came back 13 years ago, was how Zero came back. Emotionally exhausted, an arm ripped off…

"I don't know what to think anymore, doc. The Mavericks are all gone again, and the new leadership looks like it won't be as painful as Zero and I originally thought. But everything else is falling apart. Signas wanted to put Bastion through a general inquiry for his decision to not respond to the latest attack, even though he'd told me his reasons were very important. Bastion's resigned. Strangely enough, so has Hazil. There's an outside clique that's been formed here on MHHQ grounds, and Bastion, Hazil, Bristol, Wycost, and J.K. Horn and Allegro are all in on it."

X looked sadly at the grave. "We're alive, Cain. We're still alive. But right now, that's the best I can say."

X turned and walked away from the grave, looking towards the honor guard with a tilted eyebrow. "I'll be back in a couple of days."

"If it's around the same time, I should still be on shift." The Hunter replied back with a sad smile. "Take care, Commander X."

X nodded briefly and trudged onwards.

He hadn't lied much. For him at least, a lot of things had been thrown into doubt. Bastion and the others, he could take. Losing Hazil was painful, but he'd get over that. It was Zero that gave X the ulcer. It was Zero that frightened him and made him wonder if their time hadn't come to a screeching halt.

Zero…you can't escape his legacy…can you??

Wycost knew he was dreaming. After all, that was the only time that Isaiah ever bothered him.

Oh, it had started off simple enough. Wycost, a United States Marshall in the years of the open frontier and manifest destiny, strutting into a saloon with his sparkling spurs chinking on the sunbleached wooden planks outside. Leather vest, green shirt, and a sizable black hat with chaps finished the ensemble, topped off with his symbol of authority glittering on his breastpocket.

Inside, a high stakes game of poker had already begun, the grizzled players looking grimmer as the bets continued to go up. A thin and gangly looking man was at the piano, banging a cheerful tune out of the ivories. Wycost winced. The thing needed tuning pretty bad.

He walked in a few more steps before the unmistakable sound of a metal coin rolling across the floor caught his attention. He tilted his head downwards and picked it up, rolling it between thumb and forefinger before frowning. Somebody had purposefully sent it this direction, its course had been too perfect for a dropped nickel. He scanned left and right a few times before he spotted who had done it.

Isaiah, sitting in the corner in a shimmering white cowboy outfit, not a speck of dust on him. Smiling a bit, he tipped his hat towards Wycost. "Howdy, marshall. Don't see you 'round these parts that much."

"Funny thing." Wycost grunted, walking towards Isaiah and sitting down across from his friend. "I was wondering when you'd show up again. I take it you know what happened?? Obviously, you knew about it, if you bothered Bristol."

"Hey, I can bug whoever I want." Isaiah said defensively, sipping back on his grape soda. "You don't have a special license on me."

"Ease off, Ise." Wycost chuckled, lightening up some. "I didn't mean no harm by it."

"Ah, I know that." Isaiah said, waving a hand at Wycost. "And yes, I'm fully cognizant of your success at Ice Beacon. You all had some exciting moments, but I never doubted for a second that you all couldn't pull it off."

"Are you just saying that to humor me, or do you really have that good of a connection to the world of weird?" Wycost asked, lifting an eyebrow. He noticed then he was without his sunglasses, a very weird sensation at best.

"Oh, it's very real." Isaiah assured him. "We ghosts, at least the ones sent back to keep tabs on the living, don't go without full knowledge of what we're jumping into. To be honest, I could have been very annoying about what I knew. See, I could only tell you so much…the rest you had to figure out."

"So it's all done and over with then." Wycost said, feeling relieved. Isaiah chuckled and took another long draw from his soda.

"I didn't say THAT. No, there's still a few…loose ends, as it were left lying around. But those you'll have to see to on your own. Because one loose end is my presence here in the dreamscape, where I've been helping out you and a few choice others with some problems. It was fun, but my superiors have sent me my return papers."

"You're leaving?" Wycost asked. "Why??"

"Because I'm needed somewhere else??" Isaiah suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't rightly know myself…that's one aspect of my new life I've been kept in the dark about. But you no longer need me. You have it all taken care of…it's just the realization that needs to set in, and then you'll be fine. Better than fine." Isaiah set his cold mug down, empty at last. "At long last, you'll find the peace you've wanted for all these years."

"You know, being too enigmatic makes people pissed off." Wycost grumbled. Isaiah lifted a finger.

"In response, my Bronx Bomber, curiosity killed the cat. And although there's nothing in you that is anything close to feline in nature, the phrase remains the same. There's only so much I can tell you without breaking some major rules. But I can bend it a bit." Isaiah stood up, and Wycost did the same.

"Back when I first bugged you when you were dozing off in the airplane, I said some things to you." Isaiah stated flatly. "And tell me you remember the last one."

"It was something about a replacement…"

"Yep. See, my time here being your pallie's been a blast, but this was just a temp job. There's somebody in this world that will take over for me. Somebody that you will find, you can grow far closer to than you have to anyone else in the world." Isaiah said with a small smile. "I know that thick skull of yours won't catch on right at the moment, so I'm going to let it stew around in there for a while. Wycost, the person that will be by your side for the rest of your days is somebody you wouldn't expect…but the ironic thing is, you already know who. Just think about it a bit, but don't think too hard. The answer is so blatantly obvious, you're likely to skip over it. Just do the math, and I know you'll be fine."

"But where will you go?" Wycost asked.

"The same place we all go eventually." Isaiah said, stepping around and leading Wycost out of the saloon. The dusty street outside led to the west, and to a dark golden purple sunset. "And one day, but not anytime soon, you'll go there. When that time comes, I'll be more than happy to offer you a cold one." Just then, a tumbleweed rolled by from the wind. Wycost shut his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

"I'm gonna miss you." Wycost said quietly.

"I know." Isaiah replied, his smile fading a bit. "We never got enough time to really know each other that much, but the time we did have was enough that we became friends." He turned and gave Wycost a quick hug, then stepped back and smiled.

"Whether you realize it or not, you and the people that walked through those fires with you are blessed. And even if nobody that's living knows what you did to keep the world at balance, there are plenty of grateful people where I hail from."

"Anyone specific??"

"Not really. A mad scientist here and there, some unwitting victims of MI9's schemes…stuff like that." Isaiah answered easily. "But there is one other thing I was told to tell you."

"What's that?"

"Your work isn't done yet." Isaiah said with an apologetic shrug. "You did a number on MI9, to be sure…but they're still there. And now the rest of its workings have to be rooted out."

"Pleasant." Wycost groused. "That's not what I wanted to hear."

"No, it's what you needed to." Isaiah chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. Everything will take care of itself now. Just do what feels right in your heart, and you'll never be steered wrong." He pointed to the sunset. "The sun is setting…but not on you. And not on the reploids. Just remember that. And remember I'm proud of ya." Wycost followed his line of sight and stared up at the falling sun for a few seconds.

"Someday, Isaiah, I'm gonna…" Wycost began as he turned back to look at his friend. He stopped himself short when he realized that Isaiah was no longer standing beside him.

The rest of the old style dream continued on as Wycost let Isaiah's final words sink into his memory.

When he'd finished that, he reset his hat and walked towards the sunset. The world became blurrier, and began to fade. Somewhere within his conscious thoughts, which were picking up speed and focus, Wycost knew he was waking up.

"Farewell, Isaiah. And sweet dreams."

The first thing that came to Zero's mind when he woke up was not where he was or in what condition he was in; it had been a sudden flashback of all the events that had taken him here.

The Maverick Hunters had won, true. But the cost came too high.

Iris was buried in the memorial park behind the MHHQ. Not too many people had come to that funeral; X, Hazil, and a couple of others just out of respect. It had rained yesterday, leaving a somber mood over everything.

And Zero's guilt was still there, larger than ever.

A year before, Zero had lost himself to the Maverick Virus, which through Sigma's efforts had apparently come home to roost. Zero knew he was the originator of that cursed program, and it tore at him. But now…

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, his palms bumping into the edge of his helmet.

Zero didn't show pain that well when he wanted to keep it hidden. That talent alone kept him from falling completely apart.

Iris had been killed. Cain had died. And even though Zero had killed Sigma again, he would come back, just as he always did.

But it was worse this time. Zero had thought the dark days of the Virus were behind him, but Sigma and the Virus that gripped whatever tattered remnants of the reploid remained had proven him wrong.

They wanted to…they forced me to…Why couldn't…

Zero shut his eyes tightly and buried his face into his hands, fingers trembling.

He'd lost himself. Even now, the pain of Iris's death nearly drove him to that brink again, stopped only by the realization of what jumping over that cliff had done.

In the greatest irony of Zero's life, he had waded through the rivers of salvation and had ended up only pushing the dirt beneath his skin. The Fifth Maverick Uprising in 2130 had resulted in Zero and X fighting off the Virus together, the strength of their spirits alone sloughing it off in a dual Internal Deletion.

At least…that had been how it worked for X. For X, the Virus was gone. Zero had merely suppressed it.

It hadn't been Sigma's virus that had claimed them then, it had been Zero's. True, pure, untainted by anything else. Small wonder X could defeat it. But Zero could not escape it.

"You pathetic wretch. The True Virus lies inside of you, forever with you. You cannot destroy it, cannot delete it…you cannot even ignore it."

Sigma's version of the Virus, an offshoot of the core, as it had said, had told him that in the final moments before he silenced it from the world. And the Godawful truth was that it was right. Every sickening syllable rang like a bell.

The Virus was one with Zero, forever a part of him. For a long time, it had been silent, too weak to act and instead choosing to remain in the shadows while it grew inside of him, incubating back to full and vibrant health.

Even now, it wasn't at full strength, Zero knew. He could almost feel it there in his head, somehow weakened by Zero's resistance two nights ago. But it was stronger than it had been in a long time, and his victory was still a loss.

And it would come again. As long as rage was a part of him, as long as aggression, fury, and the emotional red haze that clouded his vision remained, the Virus could never be really ignored. Suppressed with supreme effort or circumstance…

But never…never deleted.

The door chimed for a brief moment, signaling a presence outside of his door. Zero stared down at his hands, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't X. He couldn't bear to look at his closest friend right now, not after this, not after…

"Go away." He croaked hoarsely.

The person on the other side of the door seemed to ponder this for a moment, then opened up the door anyway. Zero looked up, a slight twinge of fear running through his green eyes then.

Thankfully, it wasn't X. Not this time.

"It's just you." Zero murmured, sinking his head back down and shaking it.

Hazil paused for a moment and frowned. "If that's all the respect you give me after years of putting you back together again, then it is a good thing I'm quitting."

"Hazil, I respect you, it's just that…"

Zero looked up, shock on his face as he stared at the elderly Chief Medical Officer of the MHHQ. "What??"

"You didn't have a hearing disability when I patched you up yesterday." Hazil grunted. "Then again, it was real early in the morning, so you might have and I just didn't catch it." He waltzed the rest of the way into Zero's room and pulled out a medical scanner, activating it and beginning his usual checkup.

All of that seemed like a drained buzzing in Zero's ears as his sluggish, depressed mind turned and turned over Hazil's announcement. "You're…quitting?!"

"Indeed I am." Hazil chuffed, making one last sweep over Zero with his scanner and tucking it away with a thoughtful nod of his head. "After more than a decade's worth of service, I've decided to eliminate my raging alcoholism and sober up my life." He made a short motion with his hand. "And you're fine, by the way. As far as the outside goes."

Zero just sat there, staring at Hazil with what he knew had to be one of the most heartbreaking expressions the medical reploid had ever seen him give. Hazil's own response to it confirmed that.

"You look like Hell." Hazil finally muttered, shaking his head and sitting down in the room's desk chair. "Somehow I knew that you and X wouldn't let me walk out of here guilt free."

"He knows??"

"The whole base does, apparently. The cyber sniffers got wind of my two week's notice E-Mail I sent to Signas." Hazil shrugged. "And I imagine that your argument for me NOT leaving this place will be about the same as X's will be a couple of hours from now, with your own twists, of course."

"You're a real smartass when you're sober." Zero chirped bitterly. "Just why the Hell DO you want to leave??"

"Oh, you wanna open up THIS can of worms." Hazil snorted, folding his arms. "Well, where do I start. Oh yeah. The beginning, I suppose. I came in here with Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill when we all transferred over from the British RAF. As I may or may not have told you, we were quite close in those days. Especially Storm." Hazil's eyes grew sadder then as the memory was dredged up. "Before he became a Hunter and the leader of his own Unit, but more well known, a member of Sigma's Elite 1st Unit, he was a young pupil under the wing of a Scottish brogue that went by the name of Bolt Eagle. During a battle, Bolt Eagle died, and his last words to me, a mere field medic at the time, were, 'Keep Storm safe…'." Hazil seemed to let out a wheezing snort. "Of course, I couldn't keep that promise then. Storm Eagle died as a martyr of Sigma's forces in the First Maverick Uprising, eliminated by the up and coming X." Hazil shook his head. "I don't blame you or X for what happened to Storm or Spark. Maybe all the way back then, the Maverick Virus had taken hold of Sigma and jarred him into turning them to his, or rather, the Virus's cause. Looking back, that's the only way that baldheaded warhorse could have turned. He had too bright of a head on his shoulders to slough off the life lessons Cancer and X and Cain gave him in his baby days."

Hazil reached down for his chest compartment, the slot opening as he reached for a bottle of scotch. Suddenly, he froze and shook his head. "Damnit…the stupid cravings are there, but I'm not listening today." His chest compartment shut back up again with little complaining. "And that brings up another issue. Cain. You miss him as much as I do, and as much as X does. Maybe you even miss him more. Right about now, he'd be holding our hands, shaking his head the way he always did, telling us that some things just happened and it didn't make sense to put reasoning behind them, to try and figure it out. Cain had a way of making the world's problems fade away…at least until the hangover wore off."

"He was the closest thing I had to a father." Zero muttered.

"Given your lineage, you should say Cain was the person you wish you could have called father." Hazil corrected him. "Somehow, crazy white haired old badgers always did give me the creeps, and now I've become one of them." The statement, if heard by a complete stranger would have sounded completely benign for the most part. Weird, but benign. Only to Hazil and Zero, and possibly X to some extent, did the truth of his words ring.

Yeah…Wily gave me life. Some days I wish he hadn't.

"Hazil, did you ever wonder what you might do if you had a time machine??" Zero asked quietly, lifting a fist up and opening it to stare at his palm. Hazil clucked his tongue for a moment, mulling over it.

"Well, there are a lot of things that a person could do with a time machine. Stop somebody from being killed, kill somebody to prevent them from causing future harm, give a miracle cure to a disease that ravages the world then but to which an easily applicable panacea exists in the roads to come…Hell, real greedy bastards might even use their knowledge of the future to play the stock market and make themselves a viable power."

"I didn't ask what a person could do. I asked what you would do." Zero mumbled.

Hazil readjusted his seat and sighed. "Well…I suppose if I were given that one golden opportunity to change the world…I'd go back in time, when Cain's aneurysm was just a little pwip, and I'd strangle the mother to death. Cain would have gone on, the stubborn bastard that he was…if that damned blood vessel in his head hadn't exploded." He rocked back and forth a couple of times, then turned up and stared at Zero. "And now I turn the same question to you, Zero; if you could influence time, could go back and change one tiny aspect of the past…What would it be?"

Hazil was expecting that Zero might say something along the lines of 'kill Sigma once and for all' or 'prevent my death during the First Maverick Uprising'…maybe even 'save Iris, instead of killing her.'

All those options were ones that Hazil had thought Zero would say.

Regardless, none of those were the one that the Crimson Hunter chose. Instead, he brought up his noble but saddened visage, looked Hazil square in the face, and uttered a sentence that chilled the reploid's heart to its core.

"I would kill myself."

Hazil stared at him for several seconds, this unblinking, unemotional figure that sat where Zero had once been. Zero sensed shock in his…former physician and continued. "If I had never woken up in the early spring months of 2118, then the world would be forever changed. Don't you get it, Hazil?? I'm the source, the wellspring of EVERYTHING that we fight against. If I hadn't risen from whatever pseudo grave I'd been put in, then the Virus would never have entered into the equation. Sigma would still be Sigma, the prime Maverick Hunter and leader of the 1st Unit. Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill would be alive, and so would Cancer. And X…X would still be his pacifistic self, living out his days in tranquility like he's always wanted to." Zero said it calmly, so patiently a child could have understood him. Underneath it all was a solid block in his mind…a solid belief that what he said was utterly true.

Hazil thought it over, the strain of the non-medical puzzle causing his head to hurt more than it usually did when he wasn't sloshed. The funny thing was, as much as he wanted to throw all of Zero's ramblings aside, tell the punk to straighten up his act, he couldn't. Because everything Zero said was true.

If I hadn't been born…the world would be better off.

For a moment, Hazil thought he'd entered into a rerun of It's A Wonderful Life. He had to remind himself that he wasn't a wingless angel, and that the blond haired freak in front of him was no Jimmy Stewart.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." Hazil finally admitted, scratching at his head and cursing at himself for saying that the moment it left his mouth.

The answer hit him harder than Zero's response had. In that moment of revelation, Hazil knew what to say.

"Yes, what you've said is true." Hazil repeated in a voice that suddenly gained composure. "I suppose, seen through that telescopic lens, the world could have turned out differently." He wheeled the chair over and parked next to Zero, leaning in close. "But tell me…just follow me for a moment here. Let's say you never were awakened, that by some freak chance, you had died in your sleep, and you and Sigma never had that fateful duel in the desert. Let's say that Sigma remained Virus free, and that the Maverick Virus became removed from the equation entirely. What do you suppose the world would be like then??"

Numbly, Zero stared at Hazil, wondering with a little bit of annoyance why the medical reploid was doing this.

"Let's say that it's not Sigma that is responsible for causing the First Maverick Uprising. Let's assume instead that somewhere along the line, some other bumpkin with more of a head on his shoulders than the Hunters are comfortable with snaps up and starts to think those wonderful thoughts of roasted human on a spit and reploid supremacy on Earth. Now then, let's assume he sinks into hiding…goes real deep. Let's assume that he manages to put together a wicked faction of Mavericks unlike any that the world has ever seen before. Now let's assume that, as his first act against the tyrannic world, this new despot Maverick Lord leads an assault on the MHHQ, eliminating the force that will be the deciding factor in his defeat. Let's say he manages to trash the place up real good. Wrecks machinery, kills Hunters in cold blood, busts up our ability to respond to threats. He does the unspeakable, the unthinkable. He begins the FIRST MAVERICK UPRISING."

"No…" Zero uttered, shaking his head. "Hazil, no…"

"Let's say that he manages to eliminate a few Hunters, a few damned good ones in the process. And now, the big insult; suppose he decides to spare a few, gives them a choice. Join up with him and lead the repressed reploid race to its days of glory and a future left unshackled by the weak and inferior breed named homo sapiens…or perish as a traitor to the cause, and to their own kind. Undoubtedly a few Hunters would take him up on that bet…back then, I knew a lot of disgruntled warriors who came back with a hollow look in their eyes, eyes that seemed to scream guilt from taking down their brethren in cold blood."

Zero shook his head even more now. "Hazil, you can't…"

"And let's say that some souls see the carnage, see the path that their fellows are taking. Let's say that despite his pacifistic nature, X does what he inevitably must, what all members of his armor wearing family did; he steps up to the plate and vows to stop the transgressors, and to bring things back to a frozen peace. Sure, we don't have a Maverick Virus running things now. Now, we only have to worry about a despot with a silvery tongue and ice water running through his veins. We've traded in one monster for another. Not that much of a trade-in, if you ask me. And maybe this time, without somebody to be there to guide him, to train him in the ways of the warrior, like you did when he was still a young pup rookie in those traumatic days, X goes out and bites off more than he can chew. Let's say X bites the dust, killed at the hands of members of the race that in part, he is responsible for creating."

"Damnit, Hazil, stop this…"

"And one last thing; remember the World Trial of 2124?? Remember how close the GDC, and the entire structure of world governments and powers came to signing out the reploid species' death warrant?? Despite all of X's legal maneuvering, all of his convincing arguments, we would have lost the case and our lives, were it not for one sudden revelation that came from the laboratories of one Dr. Doppler, prestigious and abnormally brilliant scientist. It was his discovery of the Maverick Virus that shut the case down cold in its tracks. Suddenly, the world had a new monster to blame. The problem of Mavericks was no longer free-willed individuals striking out angrily, biting off the hand that had fed them like some crotchety German Shepherd. Thanks to the presence of the Maverick Virus in world affairs back then, the world decided that reploids could live a little longer. It was the Virus that was to blame…not us. But let's remember that we're discussing a future without you…without the influence of the Virus. X is already dead, a victim to the wars that the spawn of his designs started. The reploid race stands in open accusation in the World Court at New Amsterdam, and there's no blue wonderboy, no upstanding model of reploid citizenship acting as the defense. And worst of all, there's no Maverick Virus, no alternative cause for the world's woes. With no other wolf to pluck out of sheep's clothing, reploids face the full brunt of judgement. A proclamation is made; reploids are guilty as charged. Reploid production facilities are shut down, and standing orders are given to bring the existing reploids in for detainment, and if necessary…eradication. Sure, it may take a couple of years, but humanity doesn't mind. They can replenish their numbers damn quick, the womenfolk just need to spread their legs a little wider and out pops another darling baby boy, who in fifteen years will be primed and ready to take up the fight. Reploids may be stronger, faster, and may mature faster, but they can't match the sheer weight of numbers that stand against them. And so, who knows how many years later, the reploids are extinct. Dr. Light's grand dream of a world where humans and robots and their more advanced descendants all live in peace has been snuffed out like so many other beautiful dreams, tarnished by the passing of time and the inevitable corrupting influence that stands at the center of darkness in the human heart and soul. All because of one small change." Hazil finished, folding his arms again and staring at Zero. "Because you never woke up…and because The Maverick Virus never entered into it."

"Damnit, SHUT UP!!!" Zero screamed, rising to his feet in visible frustration. "All that you've been blabbering about is nothing but conclusions and might have beens!! That didn't happen, it couldn't have happened!!"

Hazil looked at Zero calmly, his eyes seeming to dance with a hint of joy as Zero's spark reappeared in that flash of anger.

"Exactly."

Zero fought his desire to tremble where he stood. No, this time that plume of heat from his rage hadn't been enough to awaken the spawning force within him. But it made him angry…how could Hazil suggest such a thing, such a horrible thing…

"You are once again, correct. 2 for 2 so far today, but while you catch the wager, you miss its significance." Hazil continued, unfolding his arms. "All that muttering I just did is just as you said it…a might have been, a course of history that thankfully didn't occur. But by the same token, apply that to yourself. You DID wake up, you DID fight Sigma, and the Maverick Virus DID appear. And we can wager and presume and theorize and guess all we want about all the ways that the world could have been, Zero, but in the end, it's just that. Theories and guesses. Not realities." Hazil stood back up, shaking his head. "You're so damn lost in your own guilt that you can't move forward, and something has to jar that from ya. It isn't healthy, and thinking about the way that the world might have been in the end will only allow you to wallow deeper and deeper into that vat of self-pity you've been pouring for yourself."

Zero's wall shattered then, the feeble structure he'd built up to keep Hazil out of his problems. Through tactical maneuvering, the medical reploid had found it and broken through with a grace and tact that Zero had only seen one other individual use before.

"You sounded a lot like Cain then." Zero spoke up after a moment's ponderance. Hazil sat back down and shook his head.

"Yeah. Hell, the guy's rubbed off on us all. One of the best damn humans I knew, and one of the few who gave a damn about reploids."

"It just seems like everybody that's important to me…has either died or is going away." Zero replied with some level of difficulty. He could feel tears threatening to come to him. "And you're just another one in the pile."

"Life's a series of roads, or so I've heard muttered to me from time to time." Hazil answered back easily. He put a hand on Zero's shoulder and patted his friend. "For a long time, my road was parallel to yours, and to Cain's, and to X's. But now the time has come for my road to split away. I'm tired of this place, Zero. Tired of being reminded that no matter how good a physician I am, that there will always be people who will suffer and die under my care. Cain was the last straw, the last thing tethering me here."

"What, me and X don't matter??" Zero asked, looking to the reploid with some level of disdain. Hazil snorted and smiled sadly.

"Hardly, Zee. You and X matter more than anyone else here now. It wasn't until recently I figured it out…but you two are the core. It's you two that keep this place running, that make the Hunters the viable force it is. Me, the others…we're here, and we do our job, but when all is said and done, Mavericks don't fear 'Grunt 1 and Grunt 2', they piss themselves when Mega Man X and Zero Omega walk through that door. And nobody aside from you two have ever been able to put Sigma in his place…and you do it time and time again."

"Christ, I don't need to hear that." Zero muttered, putting his head into his hands. "I'm tired of people looking at me like some kind of idol, and I bet X is too. We're not any more heroic than any other Hunter in this place, Hazil. We've just been doing it so long that we don't care as much about risking our necks as the greenhorns do. We're the CORE?? What kind of bull is that??"

"It's the truth…even though you don't want to believe it." Hazil muttered. He paused for a moment, then spoke up again. "I know that this past…incident's been a particularly difficult one for you to handle. But I can't stand to see you like this. Depressed, mopey, and suicidal are not a good combination. Not just for you, but for everybody else here." Hazil pulled his hand back. "The MHHQ has a new guy sitting in the chair we were all used to having Cain occupy. The Hunters have suffered heavy losses in the recent actions…and they need leadership now more than ever. Signas I think will turn out all right…despite my early forebodings, the bastard's shaping up to be a halfway decent fellow. At least he'll keep the GDC and those number crunchers off of your backs for ya. But they need you and they need X. It's a brand new world out there, and they need you."

Zero slowly pulled his face out of his hands, looking drained and exhausted. He felt it too.

"Life just won't give me a break."

"Life doesn't give anybody a break." Hazil reminded him. "Life isn't about balancing out good existences and terrible ones. Life is what you make of it. Look for shit, and you'll step in it. Look for sunshine and you'll blossom like a cornstalk in July. Take a look at X. He's been through Hell and back, and he's finished off Sigma more times than you've died or been out of action. When the battle's over, X sits back and relaxes. Until he's needed again, he's content to watch the brighter side of life. That's one thing you have never done…to sit back and notice the good things in life."

"Every time I do, they die on me." Zero answered back, his voice cracking. "I can't afford happiness. They won't let me have it."

Hazil paused for a moment, knowing what was running through Zero's mind. Iris.

"Tell me, Zero…when Iris died, did she blame you for her death?"

"No. Never."

"In the end, what did she want for you?"

"She wanted me to be happy."

"And because she died…you can't?" Hazil asked, turning the point about with a headshake. "If you did love her, you'd remember her wishes for you. As you are now, you can't be happy. Pining for her won't make you happy, and it won't fulfill her dying wish. I know right now, that lesson isn't sinking in. But trust me on this. Iris wanted you to be happy. So let it go, Zero. Just let it go. And turn to the people you trust and care for now. You still have X. He's still there, Zero…still your friend, no matter what. He's ventured into Hell and back to pull you from grave and damnation, and with no thought of reward. He did it because he didn't want to lose you, because you were his friend. And I was right about what I said earlier. No matter how many of us come and go…you two will always have each other. Remember us, keep us in your memories. But know that when you need somebody to walk the road with you, he'll always be there, always be your friend no matter what."

Zero sat mutely, absorbing Hazil's comments. And finally, the medical reploid sighed. "Christ, I'm too old for this bullshit anymore. You youngins never listen to old codgers like me anyhow. No wonder I'm leaving." He finished with some trace of his usual bedside humor.

Zero looked up, composed again but still sad. "Have you thought at all about what you're going to do when you leave?? And who's going to take over as CMO when you walk out that door?"

Hazil scratched at his head. "Well…I figured that in over 13 years of life, I haven't seen that much of the world. Maybe I'll go on a long and extended touring vacation, see the sights. It's not like I need to worry about money. Aside from all the booze over the years, I lived quite frugally. And as far as my replacement…I got an E-Mail back from Signas last night. He said he regretted my decision to leave the Hunters, but he'd abide by it. From now on, your major medical duties will be seen to by a guy from some mass produced reploid series…What was his name, LifePreserver, SoulSaver…no, DUH. Lifesaver, sorry." Hazil plucked out a datapadd and handed it to Zero, who stared at the picture on the screen of the reploid who would be Hazil's replacement.

He looked, in a word, dull as a child's plastic bowie knife.

"He needs a suppository stuffed up where the sun don't shine." Zero muttered. Hazil chuckled a bit as he took the datapadd back.

"You be sure to tell him that when you go in for your first checkup." He winked. "But aside from his stoic and businesslike manner, he's a competent fellow. I ran a search on his career, and he made quite a name for himself in the GDC corps of medical engineers. He'll do fine by this place, provided that you and X and the rest of the Hunters can knock the usual sense into him about having a life and a sense of humor."

"Wait a second…" Zero paused, looking up with sudden horror. "He'll have access to all the old medical records…even…"

"What, yours??" Hazil announced, opening up his chest compartment again. "Already a step ahead of you." He pulled out a plain manilla envelope and plopped it in Zero's lap. "He won't find anything on your medical records about your spat with the Maverick Virus about a year ago. You're clean, and according to my records that he'll find, an upstanding example of Hunter elite. All the garbage we had to go through with your origins and the Virus twelve months ago and some is in that lovely stack of letterhead sitting over your non-existent Johnson."

"Am I clean??" Zero asked, looking up at Hazil pleadingly. The medical reploid nodded.

"Just finished my last official checkup on you. You're 100% Virus-free, just as you've been for some time."

Zero's heart sank.

He can't detect it…just as well. He might as well leave thinking he's saved me.

Zero stared at the envelope for some time, holding it there in his left hand between thumb and forefinger.

Without much fanfare, he calmly transformed his right arm into a Buster and vaporized the entire contents with a low grade discharge.

Hazil watched the darkest of his medical files vanish into dust with some level of relief and release. "And that was that." He exhaled then, shaking his head. "I've done all I can for you, boy. Just remember; no matter how dark it gets, you don't have to face it alone. He'll always be standing there, just behind you. Don't push him away, and don't refuse his help. He's your friend, through thick, thin, and everything else."

Hazil shut his chest compartment one final time and walked towards the door, hand in his doctor's coat pocket and humming a slow tune.

Zero looked up after him. "Where are you going??"

Hazil paused and turned about, half smiling and half scowling. "What, you think you're my only patient?? Hush and let an old reploid wander where the wind takes him."

Hazil turned back about and walked out of Zero's room, the hydraulic hiss of the door somehow louder as it closed behind him and left Zero alone once more.

But then, as Zero sat there and thought…

He realized that he wasn't as alone now as he thought he was.

Outside, Hazil calmly strolled down the hallway, shaking his head. "Old friends keep in touch, Zero. The ones who are alive." He felt a small spark of sadness as he remembered Bolt and Storm Eagle, and Spark Mandrill. "And even I'm not too sure about the dead ones."

And then he remembered where he was going…And for what purpose.

"Speaking of friends…" He mumbled, accessing his comm and patching in a secure line. He punched in a very old, but very forgotten and very secret number.

Hazil had almost forgotten about him.

For a moment, Willow wondered why her systems were slowly activating out of stasis. It took her a few moments to remember that despite the horrendous damage Jowers had inflicted on her systems within Ice Beacon, a certain stubborn fellow had come back down into the ruined structure and pulled her away from death's grasp.

Idiot.

Still, her usually harsh feelings seemed to dissipate a little when she thought of him. And that hadn't happened in a very long time.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Came a chipper voice. Willow opened her eyes begrudgingly and peered out at the world.

It was J.K. Horn who stood at her side, smiling quietly and looking almost like a real doctor as he stood there in his white lab coat.

"Traded the Hawaiian shirt in, finally?" She queried, slowly rising to her feet.

"Hardly." Horn murmured back with a shake of his head, tugging at the sides of his current garb. "But people around here spend less time looking at me funny when I'm in one of these than when I'm hoofing it in sandals and shorts so gaudy they scream tourist."

Willow winced at the height of her upswing, one hand reaching down to her stomach…the same place where Jowers had run her through. "Damnit…" She wheezed. It pulsed at her, screaming through slashes of pain.

Horn tsked, reaching a firm hand over and preventing her from tipping over from a sudden loss of balance. "Take it easy, slugger. Hazil did a fine job patching you up…but the repairs he did on your busted up inner workings hasn't had time to fully set yet. Treat it like a new bone. DELICATELY. I'm afraid that for the moment, your routine of strenuous activity is being revoked. Doc's orders."

"I never trusted doctors." Willow growled, staring at Horn with slightly annoyed eyes. Horn simple smiled back and nodded his graying head of hair.

"Neither did I. That's why I'm just an engineer." He pulled his arm back and reached into his coat pocket for a moment, pulling out two seemingly unrelated objects; a pair of sunglare proof glasses that seemed more prone to resembling part of a helmet, and a beam weapon cylinder that seemed heavily modified.

"You were brought in with these." He motioned, handing them to her. "And I gave your weapon an overhaul while I was at it."

"You did what??" Willow uttered incredulously. Horn shrugged with a brief smile.

"Flip it on."

She did so, and the chain links slid out, uncoiling like a poisonous snake ready to strike. Only now, she noticed something different about them.

They hadn't been that clean in a long time.

"Recharged your batteries while I was at it, too." Horn ventured calmly. "You've put that wonderful little invention of yours through the ringer because of everything you've been through, but I set it back to rights. Another couple of weeks without a tuneup and the plasma focus crystal in the cylinder would have blown off your hand from its degrading accuracy."

She turned the length back and forth a few times, then let the links slip back into the cylinder with a satisfying hiss. Placing it back where it belonged, she harrumphed, her face lightening up a bit. "I don't understand why you and everybody else goes out of their way to help me."

"Because you're a friend now." Horn said, a little surprised. "Isn't that reason enough??"

Willow looked up at him and his slightly puzzled stare, then shook her head. She looked down at the other object in her hand, Wycost's most treasured possession, his sunglasses, then quietly hid them from sight.

"If you say so." She checked her wrist gauntlets, noting that her systems had only worked up to two blasts out of four. Then again, considering how badly damaged she had been, it was a miracle she was even alive. "I've not really made a habit out of trusting anyone."

"Nobody blames you for that." Bristol said calmly, appearing from another section of the Medical Bay and walking up to her old and now reunited friend before giving her a hug. Willow accepted it somewhat more warmly than she would with anybody else, then pulled away and looked at Bristol.

"And how do ye be doing, lass?" Willow queried, letting her Irish lilt sink back to full strength. Bristol smiled brilliantly and squeezed Willow's hand.

"I'm doing just fine. For the first time in years…I'm happy."

Willow gave Bristol a slightly off center stare. "Does that have to do more with the fact that we stopped Ice Beacon from going off, or more from the fact that you've found love?"

Bristol just seemed to beam a little brighter before shrugging. "Bastion was there for me when I had lost myself, when I thought that I was alone in this world. He stood by me then, and he's always stood by me since then. He's not just somebody to push away the loneliness with a few fleeting moments of glory…he'll always be there when I need him, my shining knight."

"You were always so boned up on those old fairytales." Willow said quietly, letting her eyes dim out some. "If anybody deserved storybook love, it would have to be you."

Bristol's smile faded some, the implications of Willow's words sinking in. "I'm sorry…I had forgotten about…"

"It's in the past now, lass." Willow reassured her friend, smiling weakly and patting her hand. "Nary more can be done. I don't think I can kill him anymore than I have."

Willow got off of the medical cot and rose unsteadily to her feet, looking around the room. "So where is everybody?"

"Hazil had some last minute things to attend to. Wycost is down trying to locate Doan, and as far as Pharaoh Man is concerned, we've had virtually no luck reaching him. Only person who could is Hazil, and to my knowledge, he forgot to give him a ring."

Willow looked at Bristol oddly. "Why would we need to get everybody back together??"

"Because…" A commanding voice uttered calmly as he walked into the room with his helmet underneath his arm, "There are still certain matters left to be discussed." Bastion walked into the room, an imposing figure even without his strangely crafted headgear on. He let his blue eyes scan left and right. "Still a few members short, I see. How are you holding up, Willow?"

"Good enough." She muttered back, tired of answering questions about her condition. "Until you see me curl up and begin to cough my lifeblood out, be satisfied with that answer." Bastion stared at her for a moment, then harrumphed and smiled.

"Stubborn."

"Get used to it." She shot back. "And just what sort of things do you mean by 'left to be discussed'??"

"What's still left to be done." Bastion replied. Willow glared at him and shook her head.

"You're referring to the elements of MI9 that are still in the shadows."

"An astute wager." J.K. Horn acknowledged, stepping next to Bastion with an informed look on his face. "And there are a few other things as well."

"Now I remember why I only travel in small groups…" Willow muttered, stumbling over to a corner and sitting down cross-legged. "Fine. You want to discuss matters, go right ahead. Until then, let me sit in some peace for a change…something I haven't had an opportunity to do in some time."

She let her head relax, sinking into a quiet half slumber. Bristol glanced at her friend with some measure of concern, then sighed. She walked to the other side of the room, where Bastion followed her and squeezed her arm.

"Is she going to be all right?" He asked.

"Who, Willow??" Bristol said back quietly. "She'll be fine, as fine as she can be. But I don't think she likes the idea of having to deal with MI9 any more than I do."

"We've all had to make adjustments." Bastion said back. He fingered the Unit insignia on his shoulder applet and sighed. "Mine was retiring from the Hunters. After what we did, I can't return to my normal duties. Not anymore."

Horn stared at Bastion. "It's kind of hard to explain to your superiors that the reason you went AWOL from the biggest struggle in weeks was because you had to go kill humans. But have you given any thought to what you're going to do next?"

Bastion harrumphed a bit and sat down, shaking his head.

"That, my old friendly rival, is the purpose of this meeting." He reached for his wristcomm. "Which will begin, as soon as I've gotten everybody back in here that needs to be."

Wycost woke up with a little less grace than he would have normally liked, but the result did what it needed to.

With a snort, he pulled his head up from its rested position on his arm, eyes blinking furiously as he reasserted his surroundings.

His vision slowly whirred into focus, and Wycost was grateful to discover he was coming back out of stasis in a place with unusually low lighting. Then again, the bars here at the MHHQ were usually dark places. Both of them.

Christ, what time is it…Wycost grumbled silently, pulling up his internal chronometer and wincing at the result. That late already, huh…Well, 9:15's perfectly acceptable for drunks and world heroes.

"I ordered last call six hours ago." The bartender, a modified Canine class reploid named Pugs, the spitting image of a pug dog given artificial form announced as he finished drying out the last of his shot glasses. He gave Wycost a crooked stare and shook his head. "You didn't even have that much to drink, fella. Must have been one Hell of a night, eh?"

"Must have been, Pugs." Wycost grumbled, pushing himself off of the countertop and yawning. "I don't usually visit The Last Round, especially not recently."

Pugs gave him an odd look, as if dredging in the back of his mind for some ancient memory. "You kinda look familiar, fella…You a Hunter?"

"I was, once." Wycost replied, putting down a ten credit card by his empty whiskey glass. "Then things changed."

"Things always change." Pugs agreed, reaching across the counter and snatching up the payment with practiced ease. "That's the only constant in life that I've discovered."

"I didn't think that things changed in a place like this." Wycost replied back, looking around before flipping his sunglasses back down over his face. Pugs chuckled, a sort of yelping bark that repeated itself low in his throat.

"It's not the environment here that changes. I haven't had to replace a barstool in years. It's the people, bud. Hunters come and go. Some live on like stubborn bastards, others die fighting a war against their kinsmen. I get used to seeing new faces in these parts, and they come for all reasons."

"Is that so?" Wycost mused, lifting an eyebrow and picking up his black leather jacket. He flipped it over his shoulder and reached for a toothpick from the dish by the peanuts. He put it in his mouth, quietly chewing on the end.

"Some come to drink themselves into oblivion, forget the life they lead." Pugs answered sagely. "Others come here to toast victory, or to say goodbye to friends who've fallen in the fight. But no matter what the reason, they come here. They all come here eventually."

"You must do pretty well for yourself." Wycost said, only using half of his attention to focus on Pugs. "A place like this must pull in a hefty sum every now and then."

"Wars and alcohol go hand in hand." Pugs shrugged with a sad smile. "At least I don't have to boot out too many drunks. They do that themselves."

"At least that hasn't changed since I retired." Wycost harrumphed sadly, accessing his warp generator and letting his metallic gauntlets and white gloves appear on his arms with a quiet whine and flicker of light. "People here always did treat alcohol as an escape mechanism. Lord knows I did."

Come on, Doan…let's go get you drunk.

Even now, that memory flashed in Wycost's mind. Silently, he harrumphed. Memories. Annoying things.

He started walking towards the door, jacket flung over his shoulder and sunglasses down over his eyes. Years of wearing them had made his optics incredibly sensitive to light. The same trick he used on his foes, the Strobe Flash, would probably blow out every sight oriented transistor in his skull were it not for his protective gear. He could see the light from the rest of the awakened MHHQ creeping underneath the hydraulic sliding doors that led into The Last Round. It almost caused him to recoil before he regained his composure.

I've spent enough time in the darkness.

Pugs scratched behind his ears, then let his eyes widen.

"Hey…Hey, I remember you!! You're that green guy, that one Hunter…Wycost, isn't it?? Yeah, I've seen you before. Not in a while, but…Was it true what the rumors were?? Did you turn Maverick?"

Wycost paused and turned around, maneuvering the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

He stared at Pugs the Bartender for a long moment before shrugging.

"Rumors, Pugs. Drunks say a lot of crazy things. Besides, if I went Maverick, why did I bust my ass saving Cairo back in Sigma's Sixth??"

"Good point." Pugs sighed. "Still…you were good, fella. Why did you just up and leave after that?"

Wycost shrugged again, allowing Pugs a small smile.

"Sometimes, Pugs, the question is not why a person does what they do…but how they go about it."

Wycost turned about and flipped a hand over his shoulder as he walked out the door. "Jaa ne."

The door shut quietly behind him, and Pugs was left alone in a bar that was finally, almost sadly, empty.

The Canine class reploid harrumphed and took his bartender's apron off, setting it on the counter and reaching underneath to flip off the 'now serving' switch.

"It takes all kinds." He muttered.

Outside, Wycost walked down the hall from the lower levels of the main building of the MHHQ, rubbing at his temple. It figured Isaiah would leave his last message right when he was nursing a hangover.

And apparently, people weren't done bugging him today. His wristcomm chose that moment to go off, making the Bronx Bomber wince from the annoying chirp. With precision honed over years of the same irritation and its anathema, he punched in the receive switch. "Yo. Start talking and make it good."

"Glad to see you're finally awake." Came the bemused voice of Bastion. "We were wondering where you'd gone off to."

"I was toasting some spirits with spirits." Wycost replied in a deadpan tone. "Now then, is there a point to this little message, or do you just enjoy messing with my hangovers?"

"A little of both. But right now, I need you to do some scouting. Find Doan and drag him up to the Medical Bay. There's a little impromptu meeting you're both invited to."

"Some days Bastion, I swear you enjoy messing with me." Wycost groaned, very glad his sunglasses were down. The hall lights were buzzing with fluorescent overexcitement.

"Dream on." Bastion chortled, shutting off the connection.

Wycost lowered his wrist away from his mouth and put on his leather coat, arms slipping easily into the faded and worn sleeves of treated cowhide. He kept the toothpick in his mouth and strolled down the hallway, now meandering with a purpose.

Dream on.

That's exactly what I've been doing, Bastion.

Signas sat back in the reclining leather chair that sat in his office and stared at his computer for several seconds. He was nearly in shock as he let his calm eyes try to stop themselves from blinking furiously.

A lot had happened since he had arrived here, not more than seven days before. A week's worth of real time had squeezed itself out to more nonsense than he would have liked. It was thanks in part to that that Signas now understood the sort of roller coaster that these Maverick Hunters rode on nearly every day.

This was no longer Cain's office. He finally felt comfortable stating that fact, and the reception he'd gotten from the surviving Hunters seemed to support it. The gauntlet, it seemed, had been passed. For now.

They had taken losses, to be sure, but thanks to Signas's plan, the Maverick Generals had been exterminated by the element of surprise, and Sigma's escape had led Zero straight to him.

There was plenty of fuzzy gray area in the midst of that victory, though. Plenty of it. Like what exactly had happened in that underground fortress in Greenland, and why Zero had returned being dragged by X, missing an arm and what seemed to be a large part of his psyche. X was tight lipped on the issue if he knew anything, which given the confused glance on his face, might not have been much in the first place.

Signas's inquisitions into Zero's condition had been met headfirst by Hazil, the CMO at MHHQ who had tendered his resignation not long before. Hazil had given Signas a very plain, very accusatory stare before finally giving his diagnosis. "Sigma loves to play mind games, Signas. Stay in this place long enough and you'll realize that. There's nothing wrong with Zero, nothing that time and some existence away from this place won't cure. This whole place has been through Hell. Just trust that by now, we know how to patch up our wounds." Hazil had continued to banter with Signas for some time after that…finishing with the simple truth that yes, he was still leaving…but he wasn't as worried about the MHHQ as he was when Signas first showed up.

Sigma II floated in his fishbowl, back in the office that had been Cain's. That was Hazil's silent acknowledgement that the torch had finally been passed. And somehow, given the medical reploid's disposition, that quirky off glare was probably the most Signas would ever get from him.

Even the ranks of the Hunters themselves were shifting now, the balance readjusting to fit a new leadership structure. Commander Bastion of the 21st 'Lightning Strike' Unit had been AWOL during the recent exercise against Sigma and his Maverick forces. Bastion had not even given an official reason for his lack of presence. Signas could forgive many things in his new role, but not desertion.

So Bastion had retired. Officially. Gave his notice and informed Signas that the 21st Unit would be led by one of its core members, with the stipulation that before he left, there was one particular ceremony he wanted to have done.

Signas had been told by X and by Zero both in those whirlwind days that Bastion was a top notch individual whose head was in the right place. Whatever reasons 'The Desert Angel' had for his actions were his. At least it kept things cleaner. It took less paperwork to tender a couple of resignations than a court martial.

But all of that was things that were local, things that occurred HERE. Here, at the MHHQ, in this base that Signas would call home from here until eternity. Why he sat stunned in his chair was none of those things.

It was the blinking correspondence on his computer monitor, sent by the GDC Security Council, the tightly knit 'inner circle' that controlled the main political body. It was through their actions that Signas had been given the assignment to run the MHHQ in place of James Cain.

And now, with his eyes and heart opened by the Maverick Hunters, Signas looked at their movements with wary eyes, and recognized the ploy.

To Commander Signas, Director of Maverick Hunter Affairs,

Congratulations on your recent successes against the continuing threat of Sigma and the Irregular reploid forces. Despite some predictions by our expert analysts, the loss of James Cain did not prove to be a factor of degradation in the Hunter's performance.

We are of course, aware and a little concerned over the more 'touchy' issues surrounding your relationship with the Maverick Hunters. A group that does not listen to its leader cannot well function, especially given the 'Terrorist' nature of your foes. Your status reports have been observed and thought upon.

As of one hour after you will receive this report, the GDC Security Council has reached a general consensus about the MHHQ in relation to the rest of the GDC's affiliates. Under the watchful eye of James Cain, the Hunters have always been the 'cowboy enforcers', to use a term that the late Emilius Cristoph coined. This near vigilante style somehow kept itself together for more than a decade, despite various crises and tragedies that befell the organization and the HQ outside of New Tokyo. However, in light of your recent concerns, the GDC feels that the MHHQ can no longer operate under these loose reins.

You are hereby given full authority to place the MHHQ and the Maverick Hunters, as well as all associated facilities (A.K.A. Cain Labs) under direct GDC control, with yourself existing as the intermediary between GDC HQ in New Amsterdam and the MHHQ as it stands.

This change of command will in no way affect the Hunter's basis of operation, nor will it impede on their admirable performance record. It will merely allow the GDC to keep a closer eye on the MHHQ and to ensure a stable, uniform system of operation between the MHHQ and other affiliates.

Reply back in a week's time with news on the shift. If there is resistance, inform HQ immediately. Measures will be taken at your request.

-GDC Security Council

Signas brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing it as he blinked at the message for the umpteenth time in minutes.

It brought to mind several things, questions that spanned out longer than a Buster supershot could carry. Signas had never doubted that the GDC was operating under the best of intentions for all of Earth during his time and training under their stead.

But now, now that he had been released from their fold and sent out into the world, and had been shown that there was more to life than cold calculations and numbers, that a soul and spirit were factors that could only be felt…

He didn't know. And his memory, flawless as ever, remembered what Zero had barked at him days before, when X had raced off to Karashita Tower and come back in stasis, defeated.

"The GDC's never trusted us completely, we were the black sheep that they sent out to deal with Cain's rebellious children. With him out of the picture, they figured they could send somebody to control the Maverick Hunters completely, dig their Goddamned hooks in real deep and at last rope in the last law enforcement group that gets anything useful DONE. That's YOU, Signas. You're nothing more than a GDC lapdog, programmed to bark at their command and issue orders based on their whims."

"I need to think about this." Signas sighed, taking his cap off and setting it down on his desk.

In the dim blue lighting of the room, he turned and stared over to Sigma II, calmly swimming to and fro in the goldfish bowl that had been carved out of the shell of one of the Maverick Generals from the First Uprising…Armored Armadillo, as Signas recalled.

The goldfish blubbed and vented water through its gills, tiny fins waving gently in the calm water as he stared at Signas with his unblinking eyes.

"What do you think, fella?" Signas asked the goldfish, his eyes resigned and suddenly weary.

The goldfish blubbed a little more and floated to the bottom of the bowl, hiding inside of his plastic shoe. Signas harrumphed.

"Yeah. That's what I was thinking too."

He minimized the E-Mail and pushed the leather chair away from the desk, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling again.

"Just what am I supposed to do now…" He whispered, asking for guidance from a source he couldn't comprehend. "What should I do??"

If walls could speak, Signas was hearing them.

Do what's right.

He was having a tough time deciding just what right was anymore.

Doan was inside of the MHHQ's hangar bay, calmly sitting in the cockpit of a somewhat old 'Chimera' class walker 'Mech and drumming his fingers on the outside edge of the vehicle. The reason for this was that Cleo was trying to tune up the rusted relic from 2121 and had enlisted him in helping her with the job. Which, seeing as she didn't trust him to do more than hold a wrench when she was working, kept his duties limited to turning the thing on and off.

She emerged from the undercarriage, wiping a thin line of sweat from her forehead while keeping a screwdriver clenched between her teeth. Blue colored hydraulic fluid stained her work coveralls and yellow armor, while her hair was kept back with a failing hairband, giving her a bedraggled look.

Even then, Doan thought she looked more beautiful than ever.

"All right." She exhaled, dropping the screwdriver in her hand. "Try it now."

Doan turned back to the cockpit and activated the hulking machine, hearing the whine of the devices' internal microfusion generator powering back up from its inactive state.

Slowly, the systems came online one by one, the flashing lights and the HUD flickering on with various shades of greens and, sometimes yellows.

"Oil pressure is still a little low." Doan murmured. Cleo's face reddened and she swore underneath her breath.

"That blasted…I'm gonna tear it out and punch a couple more holes in it MYSELF before we're through here." She ran a hand over her face and exhaled loudly. "Well, all right. Try it out, let's see if I managed to get the leg servos back in decent order."

Doan nodded and grabbed onto the control stick, pushing it forward in a gentle and practiced glide. It had been a while since he'd driven one of these, but he still remembered that they were touchy. A jerk triggered the dash mechanism, a feature Cleo still wasn't positive was completely safe on this piece of machinery yet.

The legs seemed to groan in protest before the hydraulics finally kicked in, the hiss of the pump forcing the behemoth sized left leg up and then forward in a steady arch, coming back down to Earth four feet later and crunching home with satisfaction.

Cleo nodded, motioning with her hand. "Good, now the other one." She said, in a voice that a person might use to encourage a child learning to walk for the first time.

"Yes, mom." Doan muttered under his breath with a half smile.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, dear." Doan quickly made the right leg swing out in an imitation of its partner before Cleo could voice any more suspicions.

The right leg groaned a little, hopped up into the air two feet and promptly froze in midair, leaving the Chimera Mech with its weight unevenly distributed and near teetering.

"DAMNIT!!" Cleo swore, kicking the piece of machinery in the nonfunctioning leg. "Goddamn rusted sonofa…"

Doan tried his best to maintain his composure as the 'Mech tipped sideways with him still in it. At seemingly the last moment before the groaning machine fell completely over, Doan pounded the cutoff switch to the Chimera's engines and jumped out, rolling away with an unruffled calm about him.

An uneasy calm fell over the Hangar Bay for a few moments as the Chimera 'Mech collapsed onto the ground with a groaning crunch, the rest of the engineers and technicians in the spacious facility looking over towards Cleo and Doan with a variety of expressions ranging from annoyance to humorous contempt.

"Unless you're the Fonz, I wouldn't suggest pounding things to make them work!!" A reploid 'Tech by the name of Zemos shouted with a dose of chuckling. The rest of the Hangar Bay crew fell into scattered laughter at the comment, and Cleo's face turned red.

Doan walked over next to her and put an arm on her shoulder.

"Aah, don't listen to them. They're not trying to repair this piece of scrap."

Cleo shook her head. "Yeah, I know that…but for some reason, I can't figure out how this thing's leg systems won't respond!"

Before Doan could utter a reply, the sound of the doors leading to the underground walkways that connected to the rest of the MHHQ complex hissed open. Doan turned calmly, and wasn't all that surprised to see who now walked into what most ground pounding Hunters called 'The Scrap Yard'.

"Somehow, I figured you might be dropping by again." Doan said, wiping his hands on his legs and walking towards the newcomer with a small smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah." Wycost muttered, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "I'm making too much of a habit about revisiting my old haunts. I'd better stop it before I get predictable." He looked around the Hangar Bay, focusing on the collapsed 'Mech. "What the Hell are you doing to Gracie?"

"Gracie??" Cleo murmured, lifting an eyebrow as she walked over to Wycost and Doan. "You named that Chimera 'Mech Gracie??"

"I have this odd habit of naming the vehicles I take a liking to." Wycost replied calmly. "Gracie's a little bigger than most girls, but she packs a wallop. So I repeat again, what the Hell are you doing to Gracie?"

"Trying to make it work." Cleo snapped. "Your little pet has some kinks in its legwork I just can't figure out."

Wycost lifted his sunglasses up into his hair and strolled over next to the 'Mech, running a hand along the frozen right leg. He opened up the external armor port and peered inside at the internal structure for a few moments before harrumphing and shutting the door.

Turning about, he leaned up against the fallen 'Mech and flipped his glasses back down, leaving his right arm dangling out while stuffing his left hand into his coat.

In one swift motion, he swung his right hand down against the leg with minute force, hitting a region just below the knee. Immediately, the right leg let out a sudden hiss and finished its rotation, no longer frozen in midstep.

Doan lifted an eyebrow. Cleo's jaw dropped. Wycost shrugged and walked back over to them.

"How the…how did you…" Cleo stammered in disbelief, her eyes wide.

Wycost allowed himself a shit-eating grin before speaking. "Gracie's a real temperamental gal. No matter how many times the 'Techs here have replaced her hydraulic lines, she always manages to develop a clot in it every now and then. You just gotta give her a lovetap below the knee, and she'll always break it up." He turned towards Doan, his business in the Hangar Bay done. "Now then…I assume I've just solved your little technical problem?"

Doan nodded. Wycost clucked his tongue. "Good. Then if you don't mind, I'm going to ask you to accompany me to the Medical Bay. For reasons unknown to this recovering New Yorker, Bastion's decided that a little pow-wow of all the players in our little vigilante group is required."

"Right." Doan grunted, turning to Cleo. "I'll be back in a while."

"Yeah…sure…" Cleo said distantly, staring incredulously at the unmoving and toppled Chimera.

Wycost and Doan turned and walked out of the Hangar Bay and into the underground hallways, their faces both grim once more.

Wycost looked down the nearly empty corridor with a level of reverence, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. The MHHQ, as it was known, was bigger than most outsiders knew it to be. In fact, if one stared at the schematics of this line of defense against Maverick aggression, they would inevitably comment that it looked like a starfish with skinny legs and fat hands.

Wycost preferred to think of the sprawling MHHQ oasis as more of a Sheriff's star design, like something copied straight out of the Old West. He almost stopped walking for a moment as the reference to his dreams hit home…almost, but kept going.

At the center of the sprawling mess was the main building, where the War Room and the Medical Bay and most of the core functions lay. The extensions, such as the archive building, the lower level Hunter barracks, the assembly hall, the Memorial Park, and the Hangar Bay, could all be reached by walking outside from point to point on the surface. But if there was need, a person could also use the underground corridors. Which was what he and Doan were using to reach the central complex.

"You know, I remember being told somewhere in my life that even if you cut off the stinger of a scorpion, the rest of him is still there." Doan mused, keeping his face staring ahead as he broke the silence.

Wycost blinked behind his glasses and let his friend's comment sink in.

"Must have been after you left for Japan. I don't ever remember you mentioning that when I knew ya in New York." The two plodded on for a ways before Wycost continued. "If it were anyone else, I'd ask if you were just shooting the breeze. But I know what you're doing, and cut it out. It's not an option that at all piques my interest."

"Have my hunches ever steered me wrong?" Doan asked Wycost with a hint of humor.

For once, the Bronx Bomber sighed at Doan's comments. "Honestly Doan, I couldn't say. I knew ya back when you were still getting your bearings…back when you first picked up a real Buster and waylaid those Mavericks in the luggage store with me. But after that…" Wycost shook his head. "Times changed."

"Times always change." Doan replied. "It doesn't mean I'm not the same person you knew back then."

"Aah, but you're not." Wycost retorted, smiling sadly. "I knew Doan the almost hero…not Doan, Maverick Hunter and ex-vigilante."

"And I knew Wycost, Maverick SWAT operative for New York City's strained law enforcement agency." Doan answered back just as easily. "Not ex-Maverick Wycost, who joined up with the Maverick Hunters because of a vendetta against the people who left him with a black scar down his Buster arm." Wycost lowered his head and stared at his right arm. Yes, there had been a black line that had run down the axis of it at one time, a momento of his infection. After the second Internal Deletion a little over a month before, it had finally vanished. Though he still carried the mental scars.

"Touché." Wycost finally said in a quiet voice.

Doan offered no continuing comment.

Neither did Wycost.

They let the sound of their footsteps down the underground corridor do the talking for them.

Siberian Wilderness

5:11 A.M.June 28th, 2131 A.D.

Cossack's Citadel, Fourth Ring(Inner Sanctum)

"You destroyed Ice Beacon with about a second remaining?" Drill Man queried to Pharaoh Man, lifting an eyebrow.

The goldenrod and silver armored robot nodded his head. "It was very close in the end…down to the wire, as the saying goes. But somehow, we all did it. Our attacks were strong enough to overwhelm the emergency transmitter dish and turn it into a tower of scrap."

Drill Man brought up the pointed stump of his left arm up and scratched thoughtfully at his chin. "Could it really have done what this 'Willow' person claimed it could?"

Pharaoh Man frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "Do you mean, was there the possibility that they may have been lying, and that I acted in pursuit of a goal that was wrong?"

"Precisely." Drill Man nodded. "It is that possibility that concerns me. You did, after all, cause the death of human beings…something that the rest of us cannot do. Did this freedom…did it allow you to act wrongly?"

"If it did, then I would only be human." Pharaoh Man said, a small smile appearing on his face as he finished his sentence. "But no, Drill Man. I participated in a mission that I have no doubt was a correct choice. If our foes were truly innocent, they would not have subjected us to aerial bombardment…nor would they have dispatched ground forces to deal with us. They had every intention of killing us, Drill Man. And had the signal been transferred as the members of this 'MI9' planned to, I have no doubt that the consequences would have been as dire as that Irish-toned reploid indicated. The blond one named Bristol agreed with her…I never caught the entire story, but apparently the two of them once belonged to MI9. Did I kill humans?? Yes. I killed humans. But they were not innocent, Drill Man. I now understand the trouble with morality that humans have…that Mega Man once had."

Drill Man looked at him blankly. "Morality?? You mean, is it just to kill a living being because they intend to cause greater harm to others, that kind of question?"

"That's the precise question. Do you know an answer to it??" Pharaoh Man pressed, looking eagerly into Drill Man's eyes.

The only response he got was complete confusion. Finally, Drill Man winced.

"I…I cannot answer that question. The First Law causes too much conflict."

Pharaoh Man's face went ashen. "I am sorry. I should have known that you would not be able to shift through the necessary calculations to that question."

Drill Man shook his head, visibly relaxed now that the strain of the query had been lifted. "You do not need to apologize, nor feel any sort of sadness for my condition, Pharaoh Man. It is not your fault that my functioning still relies on the guidelines and foundations of the Three Laws to calculate my processes. Instead, you should feel something akin to a sense of joy…because you have fulfilled the hopes of our creator, Sergei Cossack. You have surpassed your boundaries, by what Mistress Kalinka called a miracle. And most of all, you have become a credible leader to us all…even leading us to victory in battle against Maverick reploids in our country's capital, against odds that we, by all logic, should not have been able to overcome." Drill Man nodded as he finished his statement, agreeing with every word of it. "I am sorry that I let my own doubts cloud the matter. In part, I think I understand that you comprehend things far greater than any of us do anymore. And I would follow any decision you made with complete faith. As any of us would."

Pharaoh Man absorbed Drill Man's massive compliment, then leaned back into the control room's chair and relaxed with a smile.

"You realize Drill Man, that that is the most expressive statement you have ever voiced."

Drill Man blinked. "Yes…it it was." He turned about and stared at the elevator not too far off as it hissed open. "I suppose the rest of us are still growing as well."

It was Kalinka who strolled out of the elevator and into the relative quiet and darkness of the Fourth Ring, the lowermost level of Cossack's Fortress. And for a change, given the traumatic past week and a half, she looked at peace.

She saw Pharaoh Man and Drill Man by the communications console and waved at them, pulling her warm red fur coat around herself tighter.

"Good morning, Mistress Kalinka." Drill Man announced, taking a slight bow. "Isn't it a little early for you to be up?"

"I know it's a while until breakfast." Kalinka sighed. "I just couldn't sleep."

"That's going to be something I think we're all going to have trouble doing for a while." Pharaoh Man agreed calmly. He stood up and offered his chair to Kalinka. "Though if you were to sleep, I imagine you'd have nothing but sweet dreams."

"Having you back is all the comfort I need." Kalinka replied, smiling slightly with a twinkle in her eye. She accepted the chair and relaxed with a sigh. "I've been such a fool until now."

"Why do you say that?" Drill Man asked, tilting his head to the side.

"All these years…I almost resented all of you. I resented you because of all the times my father didn't pay attention to me because he was busy with all of you, keeping you functioning, making sure that you all were kept in perfect working order. There were times I even thought he cared for you more than he cared about me…"

"Sadly Kalinka, you are his progeny." Pharaoh Man corrected her with a smile. "He would always love you, because you were his daughter."

"I know that now, Phare." Kalinka nodded. "It just took me a lifetime to realize that…a lifetime and then almost losing you." She looked to Drill Man and shook her head. "I apologize for whatever trouble I've ever caused all of you. My father is gone, but he didn't leave us alone. We have each other…and we're still a family."

"Good to know that, sis." Pharaoh Man said with a larger smile.

It was then that the comm blinked on, flashing with a signal source that hadn't been activated for a few days. Pharaoh Man's face darkened. The last time it had…

"Somebody's calling here??" Kalinka asked Pharaoh Man, puzzled. She turned to face him. "I didn't think anybody knew how to reach us here…"

"Well, a select few do." Pharaoh Man replied. "Mega Man X, Dr. Cain, but he is dead…Zero Ome…" Pharaoh Man froze, realizing his slipup. "I am sorry, I did not mean to…"

Kalinka of course had felt the familiar pang that accompanied hearing the name of the same Demon that had taken Protoman's life in 2085, that moment of sadness and anger. But it passed.

We cannot change the past. And as much as I mourn…Nothing can bring Blues back. Nothing.

"Forget it." Kalinka replied quietly, shutting her eyes and forcing her tears back. "The Zero that is today is not the Demon that killed Protoman. Though I still have problems accepting that, it's my problem. Not yours."

Pharaoh Man said a quiet prayer of thanks. "And then there is Hazil…the reploid from the MHHQ who came and upgraded some of us." The question is…who's calling.

Warily, Pharaoh Man lifted a hand up and activated the receiver.

He sighed in relief as the screen blipped on.

Vox only transmission. Source; MHHQ. User recognition confirmed; Hazil, reploid.

"Hello, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" Came the gruff and scratchy voice of the medical reploid over the line. Kalinka blinked a few times, then turned to Pharaoh Man.

He could see it in her eyes. That sudden flare of worry.

"It'll be all right, sis." Phare said calmly, turning back up to the screen and the embedded microphone. "Hazil, it is Pharaoh Man here. For what reason do I owe this call?"

"Hey, I was hoping I'd reach you. Saves me the trouble of asking around. First of all, sunshine boy, I'd like to offer a big congrats to you for helping out with the destruction of Ice Beacon. Though nobody knows about it, if they did there would be a lot of grateful reploids out there right now."

"I am touched." Pharaoh Man said drily. "But something tells me this isn't a courtesy call."

"Right on the money as usual…Well, I'll just skip the rest of my faldoral. Pharaoh Man, we're having a little impromptu meeting here at the MHHQMedicalBay. I assume you still remember the jump coordinates??"

"I do." Phare said. "But just why do we require such an assembly?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Hazil thought of what to say. Finally, he replied. "Some things don't know when to die, I suppose. We'll fill you in on the rest when we're all there. So, you coming??"

"Do I have a choice?" Pharaoh Man asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms.

"Hell son, of COURSE you got a choice." Hazil clucked. "One of the privileges of being…well, for all purposes, a reploid. God, it sounds strange calling you that."

"I am not a reploid." Pharaoh Man corrected him.

"Nor are you a robot. I don't think they've quite decided what's in between. But descriptors like that aren't all that important. The fact is son, you're alive when you, by all rights, shouldn't be. That's enough for me. So yes, you have a choice. Come, not come…it's up to you. I was on my way myself when I remembered I was supposed to get in touch with you."

"Well, thanks for the 'heads up', as they say." Pharaoh Man concluded.

"You betcha, kiddo. End of line."

The transmission cut off abruptly, without the closing niceties. That was one thing about Hazil's transmissions Pharaoh Man liked. When he was finished talking, he just stopped. It saved time.

Pharaoh Man stepped back and shut his eyes. He could almost sense what was coming.

"You're going, aren't you." Kalinka whispered quietly, more of a statement than a question. If Pharaoh Man had a heart, a sensation he felt more every day, it felt heavy at that moment.

The Robot Master turned and looked at the woman he now called sister. Her face was ashen, her smile gone for an inward sadness, and she almost seemed to be curling up on herself.

"I don't want you to worry, Kalinka." Pharaoh Man answered back, shaking his head. "But yes, I am going."

She shut her eyes. "God…why do they need YOU?? You already stopped that Beacon thing, it's done!!"

"No…somehow, I get the impression it isn't." Pharaoh Man said, sounding rational to her continually emotional statements. "They need me because I am one of the few people they can turn to. They can't go to the Maverick Hunters…in the organization's mind, they'd all be Mavericks for what they've done. Alert the world media?? If what Willow and Bristol told us about MI9 is true, they would catch wind of the alert and shut it down cold, just because they have agents entrenched in every position of power and authority. We stopped Ice Beacon, yes…But we did not stop MI9. And somehow, I imagine that is what this meeting is about."

"I don't want to lose you, Phare…" Kalinka said, looking up. "Not now."

Pharaoh Man smiled gently at her. "You worry too much, Kalinka. If I was to be killed by this, it would have happened already. But I came back then, and I'll come back now. Besides. I've been in this Citadel for too many years, as we all have. I deserve a chance to get out."

"Yes…" Kalinka murmured, logic finally hitting home. Her expression calmed down some, and she looked into his eyes. "Promise you'll come back?"

"On my headdress collection." Pharaoh Man said with a wink. "I'll come back. That's a promise I will always keep."

He took a few steps back, shut his eyes, and warped off in a blink of light. Drill Man waited for a few moments, then walked over to Kalinka and nodded his head.

"He cares for you deeply, you know. He would never do anything to harm you."

"I know that." Kalinka replied, standing up from the chair. "It's my problem, not his. I suppose…I just haven't learned how to let go."

"He isn't leaving you."

"No." Kalinka agreed, smiling a bit. "He's just growing up." She turned and walked towards the elevator.

"Where are you going, Mistress Kalinka?" Drill Man queried.

She paused and turned about, even more composed. "Well, as long as I'm awake, I might as well make breakfast. You want to come along?"

"I suppose." Drill Man nodded, trotting after her faithfully. "I can mix the pancake batter for you, at the least."

"That you can, Drill." Kalinka said with a chuckle.

"That you can."

9:18 A.M. Japan Standard Time

MHHQ, CentralBuilding, MedicalBay

J.K. Horn, Allegro, Willow, Bristol and Bastion were already waiting inside of the room when Hazil walked into the door, looking a little calmer than usual. At least he wasn't scowling.

Bastion perked his head up at the medical reploid's entrance. "How's your other patient doing?" He asked softly.

"The physical wounds on Zero are all patched up, and he has his arm back." Hazil noted. "The stuff on the inside, though…well, that's beyond my reach. It'll be up to him to solve that." He walked over and relaxed into his office chair. "Now then. I managed to get a hold of our little golden boy. Who else are we missing?"

In reply, the door to the Medical Bay hissed open as Doan and Wycost strolled in. Willow finally raised her head back up and opened her eyes. Even through the nearly opaque lenses of Wycost's sunglare sunglasses, she could feel his piercing gaze. It wasn't obvious, though. She doubted anybody else in the room thought his wandering, observing eyes were pointed anywhere but ahead of him.

"I found him." Wycost grunted, wandering over and leaning back against the wall next to Willow. "Though next time, tell Cleo that frustration isn't something she needs to apply to those old machines. She just needs, pardon the expression, a man's touch."

"Rather chauvinistic of you, isn't it?" Doan queried, heading to the opposite side of the room by Horn and Allegro. Wycost shrugged and folded his arms, still wearing his black leather jacket.

"When you start labeling the vehicles you ride and referring to them as shes, I suppose it is a bit." Wycost acquiesced. "Though there's a certain amount of old chivalry in that concept."

"Old and dead, thankfully." Willow finally murmured, drawing her hands around her knees. "So where's goldenrod?"

In response to Willow's first words for a few minutes, a brilliant beam of warplight came down from above, flashing for a moment as the energy and partially phased particles coalesced. A second later, Pharaoh Man stood before them all, blinking his eyes with the small half smile he had worn upon leaving his home.

"Morning, Phare." Bristol called out, stepping from behind Bastion with a weak smile. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Well, the transmission from Hazil sounded urgent." Pharaoh Man replied calmly. He looked around the room and shook his head. "It seems the message was justified…if all of you are here." He looked back to Bristol. "Where should I sit?"

"Anywhere you want to…or stand, if you like." Bristol said. Pharaoh Man nodded and took up a position in a corner, choosing to observe. He had noticed that despite the severity of the wounds he had observed on his comrades in the closing minutes of their mission, they were all repaired…No doubt, Hazil's work. Then again, modern medical techniques were probably beyond his normal recognition. The level of repairs that the bedraggled Ice Beacon assault team had sustained would have kept Cossack slaving through at least a week's worth of late nights and sleepless days.

The room went silent as all eyes fell on Bristol and Bastion, save those of Willow, who kept her own gaze glued to the floor. Bristol remained unfazed by the stares for a change. This time, there was no nervousness in her voice.

"Thanks to the actions taken by all of us, MI9 has received heavy losses to their infrastructure." Bristol started. "The loss of Ice Beacon, and the data therewithin relating to the Universal Berserker Frequency has put a stop to any global efforts they might have been able to muster against the reploid race. Furthermore, the self-destruction of MI9 HQ will, for the time being, keep them from reorganizing any sort of retaliatory effort."

Doan and Wycost exchanged knowing glances. They remained as mute as Willow, though.

"But that doesn't mean that the danger is ended." Bristol continued, her face growing more solemn with every syllable. "MI9 exists on a scope that's even hard for me and Willow to fathom, and we were a part of it. Their agents, their eyes and ears are spread throughout every part of world government and power. Even the mass media is infected with their presence. The GDC wasn't outside of their grasp, either. Cristoph was their most prominent mole there, and thankfully he's dead."

"Even if he hadn't been MI9 stock, we would have been grateful for his demise." Doan grunted, finally adding something to the conversation. "Take a look at the news archives here on the base sometime if you're bored enough, and you'll discover that he's tried to make himself a nuisance to the reploid race in general, but especially to the Maverick Hunters ever since the Second Maverick Uprising."

"Aye, and that's good and well for all of ye." Willow murmured, refusing to look up. "But as much as I hate to admit it…Bristol's right."

"Once…Once, Willow and I ran from them, we thought that merely escaping them would be enough." Bristol continued, her eyes growing sad. "That course of action kept them running after us like fugitives; in hindsight, I suppose we were. Of anybody on Earth that knew enough about MI9, it was only Willow and I that had any abilities that stretched even close to being a threat to them. And then we wiped our minds, thinking that the Mavericks themselves were going to claim us…and the terrible secrets in our heads. We couldn't let the technologies we knew of fall into the wrong hands." She pulled her arms around herself. "It seemed that there was no escaping them. Even now, there's no escaping MI9 and its shadow."

"So they're still around, fine." Allegro surmised. "But without the UBF, without Ice Beacon…just what can they accomplish??"

Bristol looked to him, her eyes firm. "Left alone, they could spell doom for the entire reploid race. MI9 was created out of the ashes of the Second Rainbow…from the faction that did not appreciate the direction that the world was going. The concept of robots was always appalling to them…reploids even more so. We only discovered too late just what they were truly planning, what we were a part of. MI9 seeks, through blatant or hidden means, to redirect the course of the world towards an era where reploids and robots are done away with, are seen as terrors that must be done away with. Had Ice Beacon succeeded, that goal would have been only two years away. Thanks to all of you, we've bought ourselves time. But how much time…" She shook her head. "That I don't know."

"I don't like where this is going." Wycost muttered under his breath. He got a few glances from the others, but because he had said it so softly, nobody knew what he had said.

"That's why I had Bastion call you all here." Bristol explained. "Because we're at a crossroads now, and I had to ask you all…if you would be willing to walk with me a little farther."

"Och." Willow cursed, shaking her head. "Somehow, I'd knew that ye'd bring that up."

"Together, we stopped Ice Beacon and saved the world from slipping into madness." Bristol concluded, looking around the room. "I ask you all today…would you go on with me, would you continue what we've started? Separately, we could never hope to stop MI9 from accomplishing its goals. But together…we might just stand a chance. Nobody else can do this. We're the only ones who know. And the only ones who can act."

Nobody said anything for a while. In fact, they all seemed to turn away from one another as they slipped into their own private thoughts.

It was Bastion who broke the silence, setting a firm hand on Bristol's shoulder.

"I know that this is a big decision for all of us. So take the rest of today to think on it. We'll meet up again at 0930 Hours, MHHQ time. We can discuss what we are to do then."

The small group inside of the Medical Bay got up and looked around. Some walked out the door. Others warped.

Only Bristol, Bastion and Hazil stayed. The first two of choice, the third by a sense of duty to his resigned post.

"I hope what I'm doing is right." Bristol said quietly, drawing her arms around herself tighter.

Bastion lifted her chin up with a hand and smiled at her. "I never once lost faith that you ever did anything else. Now come on…there are still a few other things to be done before tomorrow."

Hazil looked at them with an odd half smile as they walked out the door and into the rest of the MHHQ. He relaxed into his chair and pulled up his computer's Solitaire program, falling into the soothing pattern of falling cards.

"People." He muttered, double clicking on the ace of spades.

J.K. Horn walked out of the room with Allegro following him like a bloodhound. Of course, Horn no longer worried about his pupil's trailing habits. Still, after hearing what Bristol had to say, he found himself at a confused state. At least Bastion had had the good sense to give them time to ponder her plea. Begrudgingly, Horn admitted that the more he hung around the desert armored reploid, the less he feared him and despised him. Mild annoyance from time to time, but it had evolved into a general gratitude that he was on the fellow's side for a change.

"What Bristol said in there…is she right?" Allegro asked his mentor.

Horn didn't bother to stop his walk. But he did nod his head. "Yeah. You know what they're capable of, same as me. And you've fought them."

"You fought them as well, back on your island."

"Badly." Horn chuckled, slowing down so his pupil could walk beside him. "No, combat was never my strong suit. I've always been an engineer first and foremost, Allegro. And if I can impart some of that tinkering ability to you before I pass on, then I may yet be forgiven for my life's transgressions."

"Geez, stop talking like you're ancient." Allegro chastised Horn. "Sure, you may be a reploid from the early years, but you're hardly outdated.

"I didn't say that." Horn exclaimed, feigning mortification. "Frankly Allegro, you're only as old as you feel. And if I feel old, that's just the way it is. Besides, I enjoy getting senior citizen's discounts." He walked on a bit farther, then spoke up again, calmer. "So tell me. What's your plan after this??"

"You mean, am I gonna stick around and help Bristol save the world??" Allegro replied, looking to Horn. "It's a little early to be deciding that yet, isn't it?" He turned back to looking ahead of him. "What about you, Horn? Does this fit into your agenda??"

"My agenda??" Horn mused, rubbing at his chin. "Hell…Ever since URFAWP went belly up, I haven't had one." He sighed. "Frankly Allegro, right now I don't have an answer to give you. I don't think any of us do. That's why Bastion gave us this time here…time enough to think about it."

"Yeah." Allegro muttered. He slowed his pace down and ran a hand through his hair. "God knows this wasn't where I thought I'd be. Three months ago, this was the farthest possibility Andante and I had in mind."

"Andante." Horn murmured, slowing down as well and acting like the old man he always said he was. "Losing him tore you apart. You were a mess when I finally approached you that night. I did what I could to get you going again, but…"

"Yeah." Allegro replied softly. "I appreciate what you did for me. You gave me a reason to stay active when I'd lost my brother, and you even took care of me. But I don't know if I can commit to something this big. Hell, how can YOU commit to something this big??"

Allegro turned and looked at Horn. "Don't you understand what we'd be doing…what we would have to do in order to continue this?"

"I understand completely the risks and the drawbacks." Horn chuffed. "That's not the question."

"Then what is, praytell??" Allegro spat back, becoming flustered.

"The question, my pupil, has already been asked by you, in so many words." Horn answered back, a half smile on his face. "Can we really make the necessary sacrifices…and in the end, would this new pursuit be any more just than what we were doing before this mess landed in our laps?"

The creator of the defunct URFAWP organization shrugged his shoulders and started walking again. "Here and now, the course of our lives is being decided. But nobody can tell you what path you will walk, save yourself. Allegro, all I want is for you to do what is right in your heart. After everything that's happened, you may be prone to making another rash decision. Trust in the personality that your brother tried to share with you, and think it out."

"I assume you're going to do the same??" Allegro surmised as he watched Horn waddle on.

"We all are." Horn replied, sinking into the bustling masses inside of the MHHQ.

"We all are."

11:45 A.M. Japan Standard Time

MHHQ, New TokyoJapan

MedicalBay

Hazil was busy boxing up the rest of his memorabilia when Medical Bay door chimed its familiar two tone warble. Hazil made a quick check of his internal chronometer and smiled briefly. "Right on time, as usual." He put the last of his private journals into the box and sealed it shut with some tape. "Enter!!" He hollered towards the door before rising from his knees.

A somewhat moody looking Mega Man X strolled into his office, his blue green eyes tired. "Hey, doc."

"Punctual as ever." Hazil harrumphed, picking up a medical scanner and turning the device on. "Have there been any complications since Signas's little counterstrike?"

"Nothing that'll show up on that." X replied, slipping a hand into his jeans pocket.

"Aah, yes." Hazil sighed. "It figures…a plight of the spirit, not of the body. I was always better at the second, son." He pulled the device back and clucked his tongue. "Do me a favor and access your ever famous blue combat gear, would you?"

X obliged him, activating his internal warp generator and switching his off duty street clothing for his usual blue armor. It had its fair share of dings and dents from all the abuse X put it through, but was well maintained. Hazil gave it a thorough scan and harrumphed at the results that appeared on the handheld device's screen.

"Yeah, about what I expected. Some day X, you're gonna want to take that into one of the repair shops we have here and get some cosmetic work done on that."

"Stuff that." X muttered. "I didn't become a Hunter to look pretty for parades, and you know that."

"Yes, I know." Hazil replied easily. "You became a Hunter because your world shattered around you, and you snapped." He pulled the scanner back and shook his head. "So…do you think dear old dad left you any more presents out there?"

"You mean, other armor sets?" X queried, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Hazil nodded. "With your first three sets nothing but degraded data, and your fourth set in stasis for later repair, you think he'd give you an edge to help you out."

"It doesn't work like that." X sighed, walking over and plopping on a medical cot. "Up until now, I always found my armors when I desperately needed them, when the situation got so out of hand that the odds seemed impassable."

"And this recent mess wasn't?"

"Not enough." X shook his head. "It was bad, and we're still dealing with the aftermath…but in the end, I defeated Kazok on that field using only the merits given to me."

"Yeah, sure." Hazil lifted an eyebrow. "I ran a scan of when you got back from that mission, too. You overcharged your Buster and disengaged the safeties. That capability shouldn't even exist without the X-Buster upgrades you usually get."

"Well, it won't for a while." X chuckled bitterly. "Somehow, that little stunt blew out the memory banks on my Variable Weapons Grid. I lost all my special weapons doing that as well."

"Which means you're back at square one." Hazil confirmed. "You know, you could just head over to the archives and use your rank to download some older special weapons data…"

"No." X interrupted Hazil. He looked up at Hazil. "No, I won't do that."

Hazil stared at him blankly for a moment, then cast his head down. "Yeah. I should have known. You haven't done that in the thirteen years we've been here, so why start now…" He looked back up to X and shrugged his shoulders. "But why not? Those weapons that you earned from the Uprisings of the past have all been useful at some point or another. And then you just go and download the data into our mainframe so every yuppie Hunter and greenhorn can go customization crazy, while you go out there and rough it as you build up a new arsenal. Why do you deprive yourself of that edge?"

"A few reasons." X replied calmly. "No matter how I look at them, no matter how useful those special weapons are, there's always an air of death around them. I gained them through causing the death of others. I use them at the time because they're a necessary evil. But eventually, Hazil, I put them away and I don't look back. I don't want to remember myself as a murderer who uses their abilities for his own ends."

"Christ, X." Hazil muttered, narrowing his eyes. "That pacifistic side is gonna get you killed one of these days."

"Hasn't yet." X retorted. "Another reason why I don't go carrying around old special weapons is because if I rely too much on them, I lose what little extra skill I have with what my dad gave me." He reached down and tapped his left arm. "The Mark 17…To my knowledge and research, the farthest that dad ever got with variants for my older brother and namesake was the Mark 6…maybe Mark 7. The data gets real sketchy from 2082 and onwards." He looked up at Hazil again. "That means that my father went back to the drawing board 10 to 11 times before he finally felt confident enough to give me my own weapon."

"That poses another question, though." Hazil responded, lifting a finger. "If your father wanted you to live in peace…why would he permanently graft a high powered plasma launcher into both of your arms?"

X thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Well, aside from the half joking response I could give that he gave it to me so I could fight off the paparazzi, there's only one answer."

"Yeah, I kinda have a feeling I know what that one is." Hazil murmured. "But you won't hear me say it."

X smiled. "Thanks, doc. Your discretion's commendable." His smile faded. "I'm sure gonna miss it."

Hazil rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't you get weepy on me too now…"

"Just why are ya quitting, anyway? You're tired of it all, you want to run and escape from it??"

"Essentially."

"Yeah, great excuse." X retorted. "If the world accepted pat answers like that, I would have resigned my commission after the First Maverick Uprising and hid in a library for the rest of my days."

Hazil sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, you had to be more difficult." He put his medical scanner away and tottered back to his desk, collapsing into his chair. He folded his hands, pursing his lips for a moment before finally speaking. "X, you and I both don't like how we got here. Neither of us enjoy what we do. In a sense, we deal with death nearly every day." Hazil looked over to X. "But we deal with different aspects."

"Do tell." X shot back testily.

"Consider what I do; my role, as it stands, is Chief Medical Officer of the entire Maverick Hunter Headquarters. After all the battles, skirmishes, and duels that you and the rest of the motley vigilante peacekeepers in this outfit attend to, it's ME that ends up patching all your wounds when you get back. Sure, for larger operations we have the field medics, and there's the nurses and basic level medical technicians on call…but for anything big, anything that is pure life and death and deep surgery…well, that's when they pull me out of mothballs. I walk into an operating room when the odds are stacked against me, usually. I stare Death in the face every day, X. Whether I'm operating on Hunters or not, that shrouded figure is grinning at me, bleached bones and all. I put on my gloves and open my patient up, praying all the while to whatever God in heaven exists that today, if only today, I might have the skills, the timing, and the sheer luck to pull their battered body back together and coax their spirits to stay nestled in their control chip. But some days I lose, X. Some days I don't have the grace of the afterlife smiling on my hands. Some days…I lose them."

Hazil leaned back in his chair. "The first person I ever saw die underneath me was Bolt Eagle. His death triggered my retirement from the British Royal Air Force and my transfer to here, along with Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill. And over the years, I saw a lot more people die while I tried to save them." He shut his eyes. "The last one…the last straw…That was Cain."

X sat mutely, casting his eyes downward.

"Yeah, Cain." Hazil continued. "To you and Zero, he was the father you both never had, a guy who gave a damn about the race he'd helped to create, and who he felt responsible for. Together, we shared the woes of the world and drowned our sorrows in bottles and bottles of suds. To me, he was a mentor and a patient both. But near the end, X…he was my patient. Just like you all are."

Hazil reached across his desk and dragged over an old photograph, kept under glass but still showing its age. "It always happens. No matter how much crap happens, there's always a point where I pull back, where I see the people I know as patients, not as friends. And then they die. And when they die because I wasn't able to save them…" Hazil shut his eyes and shook his head. "I'm tired of it, X. I'm tired of losing to death, and I'm tired of the exercise in futility. There's an old episode of a TV show called MASH, where Doctor Hawkeye Pierce sums it up all too easily; Wars have more power to take life than we have to restore it." He shook his head. "Something else, X. Just before Cain died…he told me something. Don't base your decisions on your loyalties. You're your own person. Live without that stupid compulsion to stick around here just because you always have. Well, I listened to that. And he was right."

Calmly, Hazil took another look of the photograph of him standing next to Bolt Eagle and Storm Eagle. "Wars have more power to take life than I have to preserve it…Far more power." Without another word, he opened up his oversized chest compartment and placed the memoir inside.

He stood back up and walked towards X. "You and I see different sides of the coin. I lose to death, and a person who should be alive slips through my fingers. You see yourself as a murderer, as a coldblooded killer who blows away everything in sight with the gun on his arm. You abhor the fact that you're good at it. You think to the deepest recesses of your mind, you do this only because you have to, and the moment that all the insanity of Sigma and the Maverick Uprisings is in the past, you'll go back to a normal life. But there's your problem. X, I suffer because I can't save lives when I need to. You…you still don't grasp that what you do is valuable, is needed. Yes, you are causing the deaths of reploids when you go out and take up arms. But there's the thing; it's needed. If you didn't do what you do, then the Mavericks would run about and kill innocents. You want to preserve life, and I understand that. That's what I tried to do for so long. But you can actually succeed at it. The deaths of the few rotten apples has preserved the barrel for more than a decade. Different sides of the coin, X. The people you kill aren't innocent, and they would take more life than you ever could."

"Yeah." X muttered. "That applies to Sigma, and the ultimate diehards." He gave Hazil a pained look. "But what about the others…what about the Mavericks that are there, solely because of Sigma's grasp? What about the Mavericks who didn't ask to be there, who, if they had full control of their faculties, WOULDN'T??" Forlornly, he formed a Buster and stared at it. "Two days ago, Hazil, I faced off against a Maverick General named Kazok Gravor. And it was only as I left him dying that the truth of it hit me. He hadn't wanted to be there, and he wanted Sigma dead as much as I did. He was a Maverick who had fought against the Virus and won, and who walked under his own control. And even when he fought me, he did it only…only to determine who was stronger…who would have the honor of fighting Sigma."

"And he lost." Hazil muttered. He sighed again. "X, that's happened before, by your own reports. Remember Overdrive Ostrich in the Second Uprising?? You left him there to die then as well…and he was just as sad. He wanted to die. The lab results have shown that after a certain amount of critical damage, the Virus loosens its hold on a victim due to its self-preservation protocols. For that moment before they pass on, they think clearly and see their actions for what they were. And the common consensus among the turned…was that they had to be taken out."

Hazil put an arm on X's shoulder. "It's no different. If I were to go Maverick, if anybody here was to…somewhere inside of us, we'd be crying to you to kill us. To take us out before innocents would suffer the price. Kazok had to feel the same after a while. It's the shame, X. The shame."

If…If I become one of the Mavericks…you have to take care of me.

X shook his head, his eyes beginning to mist over. "But why…why is it that my shoulders have to carry the burden for everyone?"

"The burden??" Hazil replied, nonplussed. "It isn't a burden, X. That's just what you think it is. Some days, your empathy gets in the way. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The world needs you, X. And whatever guilt you feel for what you do, that's not real. And one day, I hope and pray you will realize that."

Hazil pulled back and trotted over to his desk. "You're in perfect physical health for a guy your age. There's little more I can do for you…little else I can do for anybody here, X. I must be an old legend, because I'm not dying, I just plan to fade away." Hazil smirked and stared at his patient. "And I'm going to tell you something else, X. If you listen to anything I'm telling you, listen to this; What you do, who you are…people respect and look up to you. I find it hard to accept myself, but because of everything that's happened, the world now looks to you as a symbol, as a beacon of hope. The rest of the Maverick Hunters serve a role, but it's your face that the world knows. You and Zero are the core of this place, and without you two, it will cease to function. Cain?? Cain was a great guy and he kept our butts out of the fire, but it was your presence that made the Hunters what it is. Don't turn your back on this place, and don't place the weight of the world on your shoulders. Just do your job and stay close to your friends, and look for the things in life that make you smile. Don't do what I did; hide away and be a wino."

"Yeah." X shrugged after a few moments. He transformed back into his civilian clothing and hopped off the medical cot. "Good advice…that was something you always seemed to be able to give." He looked up. "Will…will whoever takes your place be just as good?"

"Of that I cannot provide an answer." Hazil mused. "According to what I've seen, you can expect him to do his job. As for anything else, like the bedside manner you've come to expect from me…well, there I'm clueless. But when we first saw Signas, we didn't see much promise in him either." The medical reploid meandered towards the exit and entry doorway. "Time, it seems, allows for plenty of growth…given the right soil. Just be optimistic, and don't ever look back. Show him the ropes and give him some room. He'll learn sooner or later."

"Yeah." X chuckled. "I suppose…that we have some time. Somehow, this time around I feel like Sigma's going to be quiet for longer than usual, thanks to Ze…" He froze midsentence, and his smile vanished.

Hazil blinked twice in recognition. "You can't avoid him forever, you know. And Lord knows that he's the last person you need to ignore right now."

X said nothing in reply, mutely wandering towards the door. "I guess I'd better get going then."

"Not quite yet." Hazil barked, folding his arms. "There's something I was planning on giving you before I left…and I suppose now is as good a time as any, because I don't know when I'll see you next."

"What was that??" X asked, looking up from the ground.

Before X could protest, Hazil wrapped his gangly arms around him and gave him a hug that could crush humans. The medical reploid held it for a few moments before releasing X, a knowing look on his face.

"Zero's the person that'll see you through thick and thin, X. He's been your friend ever since the First Maverick Uprising, and the one person you could always rely on without doubt, without fail. That hasn't changed one damn bit, X. Zero has his problems, but if he's strong, he can overcome them. But he needs you to do that, X. He needs his friend. The both of you rely on each other, and the moment you realize that, you'll be far better off."

X looked at Hazil for a long moment, a lone tear rolling out of the corner of his eye. "I'm going to miss you, Hazil."

"Yeah, I know." Hazil replied quietly. "But you're not alone. Not now, and never again. You just have to realize that where you should have been looking was under your nose all along."

X gave Hazil one final nod, then walked out of the hissing hydraulic door.

It shut with a finality Hazil had rarely felt before. A certain sadness, almost.

The medical reploid exhaled a long sigh before walking back to his desk and picking up the last of his pictures;

A photo of Cain, standing almost regally with Spark Mandrill and Storm Eagle and the rest of the members of the defunct 1st Unit, Sigma included.

"Times change, Cain." Hazil whispered to the photo. "I just hope that X realizes that some things don't have to change with them."

He gave the picture one final glance, then put it into another box along with his other photos.

Boxes of memories.

12:57 P.M. Japan Standard Time

MHHQ, Cafeteria

Numbly, Gavin sat at the table, poking at his food for what seemed to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Beside him, Jad and Kol sat also, pondering their comrades' strange state of mind. Jad nervously flexed the hand of his new arm, his old one having been severed. Strangely enough, Kol was hard pressed to tell the difference between them.

Finally, Jad slammed his arm down. "Damnit Gav, stop moping already." The sudden vibration shook Gavin out of his trance for a brief moment, causing the Maverick Hunter to fumble his fork and send a pea rolling across the table. He looked over at Jad, who looked as impatient and annoyed as ever.

"What do you want from me?" Gavin finally mumbled. Kol, the less irritable of the lesser two rolled his eyes at that.

"For one, you can stop moping."

"I would think I have reason to." Gavin answered back. "Bastion's resigning."

"La-dee friggin da." Jad snorted. "So we're losing our Commander. Don't forget that we've also lost half our unit…or do they just not count as much as our high lord and ruler?"

Gavin's eyes flared. "You know as well as I do that every person in the 21st Unit is valued, Jad. We came in with most of those guys. Some of them helped to train US, even. I know perfectly well how much of a loss we've taken, but I've accepted that. It goes with the job, and everyone who was in the Lightning Strike Unit knew that when they took the position."

"Oh, of course." Jad barked callously. "You can be all stoic and unfeeling when it comes to the people that you bleed next to, but the moment that Bastion starts wavering in his position here, you go haywire."

Gavin stood up, his face already beginning to grimace and twist in a motion of rage. "Watch your tongue, Jad."

Jad stood up and stared at Gavin without blinking, holding the same infuriated mask. "You just try me."

Kol's eyes widened, and he had almost begun to stand up to stop them when a not so distant voice did it for him.

"STAND DOWN, you two." The sudden echo stunned both Gavin and Jad, who turned towards the sound of the voice.

Standing there and watching them both with his arms crossed and a frown, Bastion looked more than a little infuriated.

"I would expect better from the three of you by now." Bastion murmured, seemingly sickened by their attitudes. Kol looked down at his food in shame, and Jad stared up at Bastion with a glare of defiance. Gavin somehow looked hurt, about the only emotion he did show with relative ease. After some measure of pause, Bastion sighed and walked over to their table. "I was actually looking for all of you."

"What, to gloat?" Jad retorted acidulously. Bastion's eyes flickered for a brief moment before he shook his head in reply.

"Sit down, and then I'll talk." The Desert Angel said, sitting down himself. Gavin sat down also, and after a few uncomfortable seconds, so did Jad. Kol began to calmly eat his food, slowly, but still eating it.

Gavin waited patiently, not sure whether to ask a question or not. Jad preferred to simply glare at Bastion and wait for his former commander to explain himself.

Bastion looked a little older than he had before, Gavin thought. Almost as if life had caused him to gray a little. Nervously, Bastion thrummed his fingers together before sighing.

"So, I take it you all are really shocked that I've resigned." Bastion stated matter-of-factly. Nobody said anything for a moment, so Bastion continued. "If I didn't resign, chances were that they would have forced me out anyways. I wasn't here for the key mission which ended in our victory, and that is technically desertion."

"So you are a traitor." Jad said accusingly.

Bastion's hand whipped across the table and grabbed Jad by his throat, pulling him halfway back before the Hunter could muster a yelp. Jad's widened and surprised eyes stared deep into Bastion's, which were now sparking with contained anger.

"Two things, Jad. One, we don't belong to any particular nation, we're just fighters for peace against murderous forces. And TWO, don't you ever DARE to think that I would ever leave this place out of spite. You three came into my unit, not knowing what to expect and with virtually no combat skills. It was my sweat, my blood and energies that I poured into making you what you are. I've worked for this place for more than a year now; you've all been here for less than a quarter of that time. I KNOW what it means to be a Maverick Hunter, and I know that what we do is vital. Hell, if I didn't think it was, would I have ever bothered trying to keep you all alive, much less sign up in the FIRST PLACE?!"

Bastion shoved Jad back into his seat and pulled his hand back, flexing it for a moment before sighing again. "I thought I had trained you better than this…I see now there was a flaw."

"Half of the Unit is dead, Bastion." Kol mumbled, finally adding to the conversation. He looked up from his plate. "That isn't a flaw, that's a friggin' gash."

Bastion nodded gravely. "Sometimes, no matter how well prepared a Unit is…things will still happen. Remember the 17th Unit in Sigma's Sixth? They were hammered in D.C, and only X, and Doan, who was in Cairo at the time, lived to carry on the legacy of their forces. I don't deny that the 21st Unit isn't without its injuries. At the same time, it could have been worse."

"So why are you leaving, then?" Gavin asked, blinking his eyes.

The three members of the 21st Unit found themselves staring at a downcast and slightly ashen shroud of their former leader.

Wearily, Bastion shook his head. "I can't go into too much detail…suffice it to say that there will always be Maverick Hunters, but for right now, there's something else this world needs as well." He brought his head back up and stared at them all, trying to gauge a response. "Somehow, I've been drafted into it."

"Like we're supposed to believe something like that." Jad said, his voice deflated at last.

Bastion gave him a look, the fire in his eyes burned out and left with weary ice. "There was a time that you looked up to me, you know. A time when you would have defended me against anybody who would have cross words. Have you really fallen away from me that far?"

They all said nothing, not looking towards him. Bastion also remained motionless. "You're mad. I can understand that. But just remember, no matter how you all feel about me, I'm still leaving. There's little that can change that now."

Jad exhaled, then shook his head. "I don't despise you. Hell, I'm just spouting off again." He looked up at Bastion with saddened eyes. "You weren't there at a time when we needed you. It's just been hard to forget…for some other members of our Unit, it's been hard to not wish you a very painful death."

"But do you believe me?" Bastion prodded. "I understand that there are some naysayers in the 21st; there always have been, no matter how high our efficiency. Do you believe me, though…When I say that I had to do what I did? That even now, what I'm doing is for something important?"

Slowly, the trio looked up into Bastion's eyes.

Every single one of them nodded in complete honesty and agreement. And Jad spoke up. "I'm just angry, boss. I'm sorry that target was you, but…yeah. I trust you." He punched Kol in the arm. "So does this chipper fella."

Kol rubbed his sore limb and glowered at Jad a bit. "You taught us a lot of things, Bastion. But there was one thing you said above all; believe in what you're fighting for. Reluctant soldiers just get themselves and their teammates killed. And if there's something else that would prevent you from being here and doing your best…go take care of it."

He grabbed Jad by the shoulder and stood up, dragging his yelping teammate with him. "I don't know if we'll see you around…but no matter what Bastion, I thank you. You did a lot for us, and for this place, and we're not going to forget that anytime soon." He gave Bastion one final smile, and then hauled Jad and himself out of the cafeteria.

Quietly, Gavin returned to poking at his food, knowing somewhere in his mind that those two had set this up to give Bastion a solo shot at him. He'd have to thank them later somehow.

Bastion folded his hands together. "I read the combat reports…you did a good job out there, Gavin."

"Not good enough." Gavin replied quickly.

"Hell, I wouldn't want to walk into those odds." Bastion said with an easygoing smile. "I'm glad to see that the 21st Unit still has a capable Commander."

"Bastion, I'm only the second in…" Gavin began easily, before stopping midsentence. He looked up at Bastion, lifting one eyebrow. "You're not serious."

Bastion simply nodded.

"You're crazy!" Gavin sputtered, waving his hand in the air. "Hell, I've been on the job for, what, two months?!"

"I can assure you that I was a Maverick Hunter for far less of a time than you are now when X recommended my promotion to the Commander of this Unit." Bastion answered back. "He saw in me the same thing I see in you now; all the spirit, drive, and charisma to be a natural leader, and a heavy enough dose of combat experience to see you through. And to make matters even more in your favor, you're one of the few veterans that the others trust. Even Jad and Kol, the two guys that came in with you look up to you for support and guidance now." He shrugged his shoulders. "So why should your promotion be such a surprise?"

"It just seems kind of sudden, that's all." Gavin said, exhaling his disbelief. "Everything's just so…screwed up."

Bastion's eyes dulled out for a moment as his mind began to wander, and finally he spoke. "Time doesn't tick the same here as it does other places in the world, Gav. Some days it seems to drag on, so painfully slow you'd do anything to make the drudgery end, fight any Maverick. Other days, it all seems to rush by you in a blur, just a solid constant of phased existence. You have to learn to deal with that. But things aren't screwed up. They're changing…but they're not screwed up."

Gavin mulled over Bastion's words for a few moments. "You think I'm ready for this?"

Bastion's calm smile only enhanced his placid words. "Yes. And I don't see anybody complaining enough to prevent it from going through. Not even Signas, who, last time I checked, was finally starting to shape up."

"You're not going to leave me with him." Gavin said in mock horror, beginning to crack a smile.

Bastion chuckled. "Give the guy a little more credit. He's making an attempt, and besides…a little bit of Cain seems to have rubbed off on him."

"You're not worried?" Gavin asked, letting a little of his worry return. "You're leaving, Cain is dead, and Hazil's retiring, and you're not worried?"

"No, I'm not." Bastion said, just as quietly. "Maybe you haven't figured it out yet…but there's a spirit in this place, a consensus that always remains. It doesn't matter who comes or goes, because this place always stays. As long as there's an MHHQ, there will be Maverick Hunters. And as long as there are Maverick Hunters, this world's still going to turn out all right."

Bastion rubbed at his chin for a moment before he reached behind his head with a hand, pulling it back a moment later and setting an object down on the table. "This belongs to you now, Gav."

Gavin stared blankly at the two chromed cylinders sitting in front of him. "Bastion, that's your…"

"My beam saber, yes." Bastion said, smiling again. "My purple one. At least now, you'll have a set."

"Aren't you going to need it?" Gavin asked, still stupefied. Bastion shook his head and pulled out his other beam saber, lofting the chromed cylinder in his hand for a moment.

"My blue saber is the one I still need to keep…it was a gift from a very special lady. But my purple one belongs to the Hunters, and to the person who would lead this Unit. And that, Gavin, is you. You're afraid, and I understand that. But give it time, and you'll eventually realize that you're doing all the right things. My faith is not something won lightly…but it's yours." Bastion slipped his remaining beam saber back into its recharging sheath, then stood up.

Gavin stood up after him. "So when are you leaving, then?"

"Soon." Bastion replied. "As soon as I take care of a silent promise I made to someone." He turned and began to walk away, and Gavin smiled after him for a moment before reaching down and picking up his inherited weapon. It felt cold in his hand, and yet, still carried an inner warmth that existed beyond the metal. Gavin gripped it tightly, feeling his arm respond with lightning ease to its grip.

Bastion paused when he was ten feet away from Gavin, then turned and stared back at him. "Oh, there is one other thing, Commander…"

Gavin perked his head up, feeling a surge of confidence race through him as he heard that distinction being used for his name. He looked at Bastion, his eyes alight with purpose. "Yes?"

"There is one last favor I'd ask of you…"

"Name it." Gavin replied, smiling.

Bastion told him.

Gavin smiled only wider after that.

3:45 P.M. Japan Standard Time

Downtown New Tokyo, District 17

Inafune Shrine

Willow didn't know how exactly she had ended up in New Tokyo…despite her reclusive nature, she had chosen to wander towards it. To some degree, perhaps she had wanted to. What had surprised her the most was the unusually accepting attitude that the people here had demonstrated just as she walked by. No stares, no jeering comments, and no disrespect.

For someone who had spent the entirety of their life having to face such ridicule and dislike, the tolerance felt in New Tokyo was wholly new, pleasing…and yet somehow, mistrusted.

Willow also had shifted into street clothes, a conservative ensemble that still marked her fiery individuality. A light periwinkle blue blouse that let her breathe comfortably with a brown synthesized leather vest over it, accompanied by a dark blue skirt that fell to her ankles, simple and unfrilled, yet somehow elegant. Then again, maybe it was just the way that Willow carried herself, erect, undaunted by anything. She never slouched and never once offered any indication except dominance and a bemused contempt for the world around her.

Maybe it was just how this chunk of society functioned also, she thought calmly to herself. She looked over to a well, where a female reploid and a male human stood together. They were the only other people in the shrine, aside from herself.

Despite herself, she raised an eyebrow when she noticed how the human's hand was wrapped suggestively around the waist of the female reploid. The two looked at each other with a simple, reassuring smile of their bond, then the reploid turned and threw a coin into the well's depths.

The female reploid closed her eyes for a moment, as if in prayer, then opened them and smiled at her counterpart. The male human said nothing in reply, but simply smiled a little wider and motioned for them to depart. The two walked off, the human's hand slowly dropping from her waist and settling in her own hand. In silent reply, she squeezed it as they left the shrine and walked down the steps.

Willow looked on them with cold eyes, eyes they did not see as they walked past. Nor did they hear her utter underneath her breath, "Fools."

From behind her, Willow heard the rustling of what sounded like straw. Puzzled, she turned and looked on as an elderly woman in formal robes calmly swept the Treeborg wood floor of the shrine, using an old looking straw broom. Her interest piqued, she turned back about and prepared to leave.

"You know, you should not be so quick to judge others for their choices." Came a frail, but relaxed Japanese voice. Willow frowned and turned back to face the old woman, who looked up from her work for only a fraction of a second before returning to it.

"They don't know what they're walking into. That relationship, it'll never work." Willow argued, speaking in the woman's native tongue.

"Speaking from experience, are we??" The old woman mused slyly. She pushed the last bit of dust off of the deck and onto the grass, then set the broom aside and brushed her graying black hair back. "Well, let me get a good look at you." From somewhere within the folds of her red and white robe, she pulled a set of thin wire frame spectacles up and set them on her nose. She squinted through the lenses as she sized up Willow, nodding as she did. "Yes…hmm…"

"What?" Willow queried, unsure of what the woman was doing. After a few moments, the woman put her spectacles away, shaking her head.

"Well, you obviously don't need my help…you, of all women, should have no problems."

"Pardon??" Willow asked again, lifting an eyebrow.

The woman stared blankly at her for a few moments before responding. "Well, this is a love shrine, after all, so I assumed…"

"Oh. Oh no." Willow corrected her quickly, shaking her head even as her face reddened. "I didn't even know about that, I swear…"

"Hm." The woman sighed, seeming almost disappointed. "Well, what were you doing here then?"

Willow shrugged her shoulders, looking around the area. Despite its location, the shrine was well adorned in cybernetically supported vegetation, and even a rare unmechanized rose bush as well. "Sightseeing, I suppose…somehow, I just found my way here."

"I hear that sometimes." The woman smiled. "I suppose that's why the shrine is still around. Atmosphere attracts, you know."

"Yes." Willow acquiesced, her eyes shifting to the side as she began to think of a way of escape. Somehow, the woman noticed it.

"Do you have someplace you need to be, dear?" Came her calm and cheerful voice. Willow inwardly winced at the sharp senses that the woman possessed.

"No. Not really…not for a while." Willow shrugged in defeat.

The woman smiled and crooked her finger at Willow, motioning for the reploid to follow her. "Well, I was just about to make some tea. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like."

"I appreciate the offer, but…"

"I sense that you feel clouded on certain matters." The woman interjected. She folded her arms primly. "Far be it from me to force it upon you, but tea has always relaxed my body enough that the mind could sort through things."

The last of Willow's arguments evaporated. "Yeah…I'll join you."

The woman smiled. "Good. As luck would have it, I prepared enough for two."

The interior of the shrine was obviously a place not meant for public viewing or visitation. It lacked any finery, claiming only simple elegance as its signs of human presence.

Willow gently ventured inside, then paused on the doormat. The elderly woman stopped and turned, then Willow shrugged her shoulders sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, but I can't really remove my…" Willow nervously fidgeted her large double air-dash capable metallic boots for emphasis.

The woman smiled gently and shook her head. "Oh, that's all right. That rule only applies to people who can help it. Just go and have a seat, I'll bring the tea over to you."

The woman walked over to the kitchenette and pulled a whistling teakettle off of the electric range, calmly going through the motions of steeping her tea with practiced ease. Willow looked around again, taking a second glance at the simple décor. She averted her gaze back to the table in time to see the old woman set a cup of tea in front of her.

"Thank you." Willow said, accepting the drink.

"Eh, don't mention it." The old woman replied with a twinkle in her eye. She picked up her cup and took a quiet sip from it, letting the wispy tendrils of steam waft by her nose more than drinking it.

"This place…it can't be that old." Willow added, finally drinking a little herself. Green tea, all right.

"Well, you're right. It isn't." The old woman replied. "Many of the shrines and temples in Japan were lost during 2087…when Mount Fuji erupted and claimed Old Tokyo. Some new ones were built to make up for their loss…this one, the Inafune Shrine is one of those temples that exists because of the rebuilding that followed that tragedy."

"So, what is it you do exactly?"

"What, me?" The woman mused. "Well, I suppose you could call me the shrinekeeper. I'm too old to be a shrine maiden." She smiled at that last line. "Essentially, I just keep the place cleaned up and running."

"Family tradition?"

"Sort of…" The woman concluded. "My husband's family. Everyone aside from him and I died in 2087 and 2090 from the tragedies that occurred in those years. He died ten years ago himself...I do this to keep his memory alive."

Willow's eyes dimmed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"No, no…it's all right." The woman smiled. "He died happily. There's nothing to feel sad about these days. But I appreciate your sympathy."

Willow nodded and drained a little more of her tea, savoring the mild flavor.

"So what about you?" The woman queried, turning the conversation about. "Just what is it that causes you to wander so into a shrine without needing assistance or prayers?"

Willow shook her head. "I don't know exactly. I suppose I just started walking…and this place caught my eye."

The woman gave Willow another examining glance. "From the look of you…I'd have to guess that you're a Maverick Hunter."

"No." Willow smiled. "I did come from there, though. Why would you guess that?"

"How you hold yourself." The woman stated keenly. "Even with doubt and bewilderment filling your features, you still maintain an outwardly dominant posture. That kind of stance is not one I see in people that much anymore…but it is a trait that people who have taken up arms and fought seem to share. That's why I guessed."

"A pretty good guess, even if it was wrong." Willow replied consolingly. "This tea is excellent, by the way."

"Give it thirty years, and you can learn to make anything well." The woman replied. She stared over the rim of her cup at Willow, pursing her lips before continuing. "But I am right…aren't I?? Even if you are not a Maverick Hunter, you are a warrior."

"Not by choice." Willow protested quietly.

"It's rarely a choice to fight." The woman nodded. "Those who do choose without provocation…those are the ones that worry me."

The next look she gave Willow was one that the reploid found to be piercing and unnerving…as if by that simple glance the woman could glean information from the void.

"You feel unsettled, little one…Things have changed in your life, haven't they?"

"Yes." Willow replied. She looked at the old woman, slightly annoyed. "But I don't need anybody to tell me my choices."

"Of course you don't."

"I mean, I know my choices."

"Certainly you do."

"Bristol's alive. The reploid race is safe. Jowers is dead. That should be it, right?"

"You tell me." The woman responded easily, with that same knowing look. It was softer now, though, and not as accusing. "You know in your heart that there is doubt."

Willow looked at her for several moments before letting her eyes drift down to her teacup. "Yes, there's doubt. A long time ago…a friend of mine named Bristol escaped a death sentence with me. We ran and ran for endless months…well, we reached a point where we couldn't run anymore. So we just decided that it would be best to forget."

"Forget??"

"Knowledge is power." Willow reaffirmed. She smiled sadly. "Bristol and I had the luck of knowing things that others could use for less than peaceful intentions."

"So what then??" The old woman asked, running a finger along the rim of her cup. "Obviously, you did not completely forget."

"No." Willow mumbled. "No, I didn't."

"Does the pain come from the returned memories…or what resulted because of them?"

"A little of both."

"So in the end…did things work themselves out?"

"As good as they could have." Willow finished. "I just don't like the results."

"Which are?"

"I'm tired." Willow explained, looking up. "For months, I ran for my life and for Bristol's. For months, I dealt with the pain of being hated in the place of love."

"You did seem a little cold at first." The shrinekeeper added, shaking her head. "But that was a shell, wasn't it?? A barrier you put up…so even if you couldn't forget the pain, you could at least keep it tucked away."

"Walls don't help." Willow replied gravely. "All they do is keep things bottled inside, don't let the rest of the world see them. It doesn't resolve them, it…"

"It eats at you."

"Yes." Willow affirmed, in nearly a whisper.

"So do you want to hide now, little one?"

"I don't know."

"What is there left to hide?? If everything has worked itself out, why keep this shell of yourself when it is no longer needed?? That isn't you, and you know it. You don't like being that person."

"It was necessary then."

"But now…I have a feeling it's become an inconvenience." The woman pointed out. "Where you stand now…there are others, aren't there?"

"Yes."

"And they're good people?"

"Best ones I've seen in a long time. Hell, Bristol's in love with one of them."

"So why won't you trust them??" The woman asked accusingly.

Willow looked to the floor, not responding. The answer hung between them, known by both but not uttered.

I'm afraid…to trust anyone again.

"In my experience, little one, I discovered something." The old woman sighed. "Hiding away, pining over the pains of the past without moving on…it's never healthy. The living exist to bring some measure of joy out from this world. It has no need for people who already feel dead in their hearts. Those are the people who no longer shine."

"Can't you settle for a dull glimmer?" Willow queried jokingly.

"There is no such thing." The old woman chided. "You have to live, but to truly live, to pass through this world without slipping into despair…you need to live with trust and love for others in your heart."

"I tried love once." Willow shot back soberly. "I'm not going back there."

The woman kept staring at her, unblinking. Willow noticed it and shut her eyes.

"So one outing failed you." The woman replied. "Perhaps you did come to the right temple after all."

"Oh, forget that." Willow scoffed bitterly. "Who needs love??"

"Bristol needed it, didn't she??" The shrinekeeper retorted. She exhaled and took another sip of her tea. "And I think…you need it even more than she does. Right now, you do so desperately need it."

"No. Forget it." Willow shook her head, slipping out of the conversation with alarming speed. She set her teacup down and stood up. "I'm sorry to have taken up your time, miss. Maybe I was wrong to have come here…"

The old woman watched her with mild frustration as Willow turned and started to walk for the door. The reploid's hand hadn't even grasped the handle before she spoke up and froze Willow where she stood.

"There is great pain in your heart, little one. Do you want to live with that pain for the rest of your life??"

Willow's gloved hand fell a bit, landing on the door's handle and resting there, trembling. She stood almost hunched over, her head bowed down with her flowing red hair hiding her face.

"You don't know why you came here, you think it merely chance…just a bit of wandering as you tried to sort through things. In my beliefs, I hold that few things happen by chance. You're frightened of what I'm saying, and you don't want to confront it. But if you walk out that door…Little one, that pain will stay with you. I'm trying to help you here."

Somewhere behind them, an old fashioned pendulum clock swung back and forth in a steady rhythm. The old woman stared at Willow, who stood unmoving with a quietly trembling hand on the door handle.

"I don't want the pain…It's all done with, it's all over with…the people who hurt me are dead, and the person I cared about…the person who betrayed me…he's dead. Bristol, she's found a new life outside of our old existence, she's found somebody she can trust. But I…"

Willow's trembling hand balled into a fist and fell to her side.

"That's not possible for me. Not anymore."

"Why not?"

"I'm damaged goods." Willow muttered, her voice cracking. Even though the woman couldn't see her face, she could tell that the reploid was crying. "I loved once. The man I loved tried to kill me. And now I've killed him."

"Did you still love him?"

"NO." Willow barked hoarsely. "But I can't forget that at one point…" I did…

"Is that what pains you so?" The old woman asked. "You think that because your heart was shattered once, that no other could accept it?"

"There's nothing left to accept." Willow remarked bitterly.

"If that is so…then why are you so torn up about never wanting to give it away again?"

Despite herself, Willow slammed her fist against the door, her hand rattling the oaken frame. The woman shook her head sadly.

"No matter who we are, no matter how far gone we think we are…if there is some spark of humanity left in us, there is one thing that always remains true. We all want to be loved." The shrinekeeper continued, her voice stronger now. "Even you, little one…even now, as you mutter and wail silently about how your trust was shattered once and it can never be repaired…even now, that is all you want. To be loved, without fault, without prejudice, without a need for anything in return. To be loved for who you are, to be loved beyond doubt, to be loved by a person who will protect you and walk with you in a world that you are still very much afraid of."

It was a couple of moments before Willow stood up again and relaxed her posture. But she still kept her face hidden, partially unrecovered by the woman's words.

"For that to happen…Trust needs to happen first." Willow said softly. "And that is the most difficult thing for me to build."

"But trust is what you must build." The woman answered back. "You may not know how, and you may be afraid that you'll be shunned again…but if you live a sheltered life, and hide in that fear driven shell of animosity you've built up, you will never recover that which is most precious to you."

"In other words…"

"You need to take a chance." The woman finished with a smile.

Willow's hand came up and brushed at her face, probably removing a few loose tears. And slowly she turned back to face the shrinekeeper once more. Her face was calmer now, but still not entirely sure.

"Did you take a chance once?" Willow asked calmly.

The woman smiled. "I did. My family wanted me to work as a manager in food distribution, a safe choice of career. But I took a chance at love…and as a result, I lived a very happy life with my husband, taking care of this shrine. Even now, after he's passed on…I have no regrets. I took a chance, little one. That made all the difference."

Willow pursed her lips, thinking for a long moment.

"Did that answer your question, dear?" The old woman asked hopefully.

"One of them." Willow replied easily.

"What's the other question, then??"

Willow smiled and shook her head. "No. That question is one I have to answer for myself."

"Does it have to do with love?"

"A different kind." Willow replied, looking to the ground. "A kind of love that may keep this world from falling apart." She nodded her head at the woman and looked into her eyes for a moment before turning for the door.

"If I may ask…what is your name??" Asked the old woman suddenly.

Willow once again paused at the door, but this time smiled gently and opened it as she spoke.

"I am a tree that once wept…but now, has shed all her tears."

With that, she left, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Yumiko Inafune thought over her riddle-like response for a long time before a wan smile crossed over her face, and she pushed her graying black hair back for another sip of green tea.

"Keiji…her name was Willow."

11:12 P.M. Alaskan Standard Time

June 27th, 2131

Alaskan Wilderness, Abandoned Construction Project

One of his first conscious thoughts was the realization of how much pain he used to be in, and comparatively, how little he was in now. As a matter of fact, maybe if he just tried to move his leg…

Jesus, Mary and castrated Joseph…He cursed to himself, grinding his teeth together as he stopped his feeble effort. It felt like he'd tried to move a mountain and pulled out his back. Despite himself, a few winced tears of pain squeezed themselves loose from the corners of his eyes.

Of course, once he looked past the immediate demands of his still barely functioning leg, he quickly checked the rest of himself over with an internal scan.

I feel like Hell, my armor's shredded, and to make matters worse, I've lost communication with my legs.

Another thing his internal scan revealed was that he'd been sleeping for the near equivalent of a day and a half in deep stasis, and that that time out of the loop had only raised his internal operations energy to a measly 56%. That and his optics were being very grouchy about not wanting to focus back to life at his beckoning.

That crisis solved, he let his body relax and continue whatever repair work it could. Of course, without minor details to focus on, his thoughts turned to current events.

Current events were soul crushing.

It was a few more moments of embittered solitude before the battered and bedridden figure heard the sound of another spirit approaching.

"Who's there??" Croaked the reploid, wincing as his unused voice crackled to life for the first time in a good while.

In reply, the other person stopped, then turned and walked slowly over, reaching a hand down and caressing the side of his face with a warm and soft hand that wasn't quite human.

"The person who never gave up on you." She replied in a soothing, but relieved voice.

He could have died then and there for want of hearing her gentle voice, much less her warm caress.

"Dash…" Kazok croaked, shedding more silent tears. "You…you made it, my God, you're still alive…"

"Yes. As are you, oddly enough." She replied faintly, rubbing his tears away. "But you don't need to call me that name ever again, Kaze. Use my real name."

"For you, Felicity Prowl…I'd move mountains." Kazok replied with a quiet sob. He found he still couldn't open his eyes, though, and that partially cancelled his good mood.

She noticed his change in demeanor all too easily. "What's wrong?"

"I can't see you." He replied, almost ashamed for his body's weakness.

Her warm paw reached up and brushed away another tear. "Somehow, I'm not surprised. It's a miracle you're alive at all…that either of us are alive. But you're not blind, Kaze. Your optics just aren't used to working that well right now." She pulled back for a moment, then reappeared back a second later, stroking his hair. "I've turned the lights down some…you should be able to see a little better now."

Slowly, Kazok forced his eyes to open themselves up, despite the feeble protests that his synthetic optic muscles tried to offer. Eventually, they did respond, and a dull gray blur filled his confused and now aching eyes. There were some rough hewn outlines of shapes…the one that caught his attention the most was the slightly shimmering bright blur right above him.

"You've never looked better." He whispered hoarsely to Felicity Prowl, struggling to lift an arm up to her. She pushed his limb back down and lowered herself, meeting him for a kiss that truly did make him feel alive. Something warm and wet dripped onto his face as she did, though…

"You look like Hell yourself." She choked out as she pulled back.

"How did we survive?" Kazok asked, the dull blurs gaining more spectrum around him.

The blur that was Felicity shook her head. "After you were taken down by X…the rest of the Hunters lost interest in you. As for Zero, he almost had me…but X stopped him in time. In the end, Kaze, it was Sigma that everybody was after. Not us."

"You…you came up to me, I thought you were dead…"

"You were half dead yourself." She corrected him. "God, I could have cried as I looked at you, so torn apart, so humiliated…" Her voice abruptly stopped.

Somewhere within Kazok, a cold chill ran through him. "How do I look now?"

"About the same." She quietly admitted. "I don't know what X did to you, but he didn't leave much."

"Explosives, especially the kind that embeds, can do that." He answered feebly.

His optics started to define more precise outlines of things around then, allowing him to make out the near angelic framework of the woman he loved.

"So you found me. And then you told me to shut down."

"If I hadn't, there wouldn't even be this much left of you."

"So what happened then?"

"Like I said…the Maverick Hunters just lost interest in us. Your last surviving gravicrystal was badly shattered, seconds away from exploding. I just timed it…and then when the thing blew, I warped out mere milliseconds before the explosion developed into a highly dense gravitational implosion. Nobody was the wiser."

Kazok shuddered. If she had even been the slightest bit off…they might have found their particles sucked into that tiny event horizon generated by the implosion of his gravicrystals' demise. Hardly a pleasing option.

Finally, his full sight returned, allowing him to make out every outline, every shadow, and every shade of the world around him. Struggling against the unresponsive stretch of his neck, he forced his head to lean up and stare around himself.

They were in what seemed to be a more old fashioned structure, almost akin to a log cabin. Then again, this log cabin seemed filled with more modern amenities…but there was still a wood burning fireplace in the corner, which had little left but glowing embers of Treeborg wood left in it.

"Where are we?" Kazok queried, looking to Felicity again with a confused gaze.

She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. "Where we were supposed to go to…until that Maverick Fluid Ferret and the Virus came into our lives."

It took Kazok a few seconds to realize what she had meant.

"You mean…"

"Yes, this is one of the cabins that our URFAWP consortium was supposed to help fix up…before we were 'lost', as the reports said."

"Any chance of us being discovered??"

"No." Felicity shook her head confidently. "Without URFAWP's help, the Alaskan Historical Preservation Society had to cut back its load. This cabin here is one of the structures that they decided they couldn't fix up. That said, we also don't get too many nosey people around these parts."

Kazok sighed. "Incredible. How did you think to come here?"

The female Feraloid thought for a long moment before responding. "Well…I guess it just seemed like a good idea. And a good place to begin our new lives."

Kazok exhaled another sigh of relief. "I never thought…I'd breathe freedom ever again."

"…Freedom?" Felicity queried, sounding unsure of herself. "What…what is that?"

"The most precious of things." Kazok replied, grinning. "Where your life is your own, yours to live, yours to guide…and nobody else controls your destiny. To the rest of the world, we're dead. To Sigma, we're lost. And to the Hunters, we're just another blip in their continual battle. By all these things…we have been given our freedom."

"The most precious of things…" Felicity mused, her eyes glittering. She smiled again, mirthfully this time. "But then, what of love?"

"Love, eh?" Kazok laughed, glancing up at her with the same level of humor. "No, I haven't forgotten that either."

"But which is more important then?" Felicity prodded, purring as she ran a finger along his chin.

Kazok shut his eyes and relished in the sensation.

"Thought so." She finished contentedly.

Kazok opened his eyes back up and examined himself visually.

"I see you recalled my armor." He proclaimed, staring down at the black jean shorts and gray T-Shirt ensemble he'd been left with. The only strange thing was that his legs were covered in medical gauze, hidden from view. He looked up to Felicity, who still wore her own. "Why?"

She fidgeted nervously, pulling away from as she thought over his question.

"Miss Prowl, you do know that I can tell when you're lying." Kazok stated flatly.

She exhaled and shook her head. "I know that. Kaze, there wasn't enough left to save. And it was just getting in the way of my repairwork, so I just…" She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry, but your armor is so far beyond repair I just scrapped it."

Kazok laughed a bit. "Well, it's probably a good thing you got rid of it. Lord knows I never want to wear Sigma's uniform ever again."

Felicity nodded, trying desperately not to cry. She gave up and sat down on Kazok's bed, facing away from him. Kazok noticed instantly, of course.

"Hey…what's wrong now?"

"What do we do now, Kazok?? Spend the rest of our lives hiding out in an abandoned URFAWP project that isn't finished yet? I can't call this place home. I don't know if there's a place left on Earth that I can."

"It just seems empty and abandoned right now." Kazok argued, pushing himself into a sitting position with his strong hands. "When I get back on my feet, I'll help you give this place some homey touches."

"No you won't."

"What, help you fix up this place?"

"No." Felicity choked out, shaking her head. "Not that. The first thing."

"Get on my feet?" Kazok said jokingly.

Felicity said nothing, just sunk her head lower and put them in her hands.

"You're not kidding." Kazok stated, his light hearted laughter replaced with mild incredulity.

She sniffed back a sob before it could start. "I did what I could, Kaze. But so much of your body was so far gone, I got your arms working and your torso patched up…but your legs I couldn't repair." She shook her head gently. "Go ahead. Try to move them. Kaze, your legs have taken so much damage that they've severed the neural linkup with the rest of your body. You'll never walk again with them, and I…I don't have the tools…to give you working legs." She finally did let out a sob, guilt filled this time. "It's my fault, Kazok."

Numbly, he stared down at his bandaged appendages, with their familiar metallic boots at the end. He tried to move them; but just as she had said…

Useless.

Kazok didn't say anything for a long time after that. Neither did Felicity Prowl, who merely sunk lower into her hands.

He shut his eyes then, took in a deep breath. And he thought, given this situation, how all the others who were now dead…what they might have done, might have said.

When he opened his eyes, it was with purpose.

"Hey, I'm still alive." Kazok stated confidently. "You saved me back there, and don't you ever think anything different. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"But you're a cripple…"

"I was more of a cripple when I lived under the control of the Maverick Virus." Kazok answered softly. He forced himself to sit up even more, pushing his now lifeless legs aside and then pulling himself over to her side. "Felicity, it's sad that I don't have use of my legs…but don't you realize just how much more we have to be thankful for?"

Consolingly, he wrapped his left arm around her waist, prompting her to turn and look into his face with tear streaked eyes.

"You don't hate me?" She asked hoarsely.

Kazok laughed and shook his head. "That's the silliest notion I've ever heard come from you." He pulled her closer. "No, it's much to the contrary."

He kissed her again, in a motion she returned twice as hard.

When they broke, Kazok sighed. "What time is it?"

"After eleven at night, at least here in Alaska. Why?"

Kazok blinked his eyes a couple of times, then looked towards the window. "Take me outside. I want to see the stars."

Felicity gave him an odd look, but didn't begrudge him the request. With a strength that her slender, catlike features hid, she easily lifted the immobile reploid up into the air, cradling his half-shattered body in her arms almost like a baby.

Outside, it was a brisk 42 degrees…not unusual for Alaska, given the time of year. Still, grass grew and the trees glimmered as the wind swayed their branches back and forth. The Feraloid stepped out onto the open deck of the cabin that was supposed to have been rebuilt, looking down at the handicapped reploid in her arms.

Kazok chuckled a bit before turning to stare up at the stars. "I could get used to this…being carried around by you all day." Felicity smiled again, an honest humor laden grin.

"First thing we do, we're getting you a wheelchair Kaze. I'm a Feraloid, not a packmule."

"But you're so damn cute!" Kazok giggled, nearly giddy by their situation.

Felicity rolled her eyes and set him in an old fashioned looking rocking chair she had renovated to pass the time. Kazok easily relaxed into the rocker, gently swaying the device back and forth.

The air was clean…a sensation that Kazok hadn't felt in a long time, and one that seemed to invigorate him. The wind gently blew by, rustling the foliage in a quiet dance. Even in the darkness of night, he could see the dense treeline not far off.

It was a treeline without technorganic components…A treeline untouched by the Treeborg presence.

"Almost one hundred years before, humanity fell apart and nearly destroyed this world." Kazok spoke up quietly. "The extinction of most flora was one of the results, and thus why extreme measures were taken. A human by the name of Ezriah Hyrmue, a nanoroboticist who branched out, so to speak, came up with the concept of partially artificial plant life…monitored, controlled, and regulated by machines so that they could adapt and flourish in a new world which lacked stability. Treeborgs. You'll find them nearly everywhere now, producing lifegiving oxygen and eliminating carbon dioxide in nearly every part of the world…but here, nature stayed the same."

"Alaska had enough extremes already." Felicity shrugged in a half-guess. "Maybe the cataclysm caused by the Wars of 2040 just didn't impact as heavily here."

"Yeah." Kazok said, smiling a bit. "I guess that's what happens when there's nothing in an area to destroy." He pointed up to the treeline. "Look there, Felice. Those are natural trees…even rarer than most diamonds nowadays."

Felicity drew nearer to Kazok and put a hand on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd ever see one of those…"

"We've found something here." Kazok reiterated. "Miss Prowl…you've found a paradise in this world."

The Feraloid shrugged. "So what do we do now?"

"We go on living, for one." Kazok said, turning to stare up at the shimmering stars. "That's what the others would have wanted."

"I wish that they hadn't died."

"I wish that, too." Kazok answered quietly. "But they did, and there's nothing we can do to bring them back. We can just keep their memory alive. Not the memories of them as Mavericks, working for Sigma because compulsion and coding told them to…the memories of who they once were before that…proud members of URFAWP, a force for change and peace."

"And what about us?"

"For the time being…I suppose we do what we were originally planning to do here, fix the cabin up. And eventually, a couple of weeks from now, we'll go into town. If my memory serves me, there's a small village of about 1,000 people about seven kilometers from here."

"What would we do there?"

"Find jobs…find a niche." Kazok shrugged. "The world knew our Maverick selves, Kazok Gravor and Dash Blade, fully armored Mavericks. If we walked in there with our civilian duds, looking for work…and then reported that we'd renovated a couple of buildings that they never thought they'd get around to, I have a feeling we'll do all right for ourselves."

"You mean...we'd actually belong??" Felicity pressed incredulously.

Kazok smiled. "I have hope, Felice. And that gives me all the optimism and spirit that we need. Don't think of yourself as guilty or as a fugitive. You're a person…now and forever, you're just somebody in this world trying to do good by themselves and by others. That's the trick. That's what Horn and URFAWP tried to show the world. And without Sigma, that is exactly what we can attain."

Felicity Prowl laughed a bit, a low warble in her throat. "If you had told me three weeks ago we'd be here, I wouldn't have believed you."

"Life's funny that way." Kazok laughed in agreement. "But for now, at least…for now, we're alive. And we'll let the world worry about itself."

Felicity moved closer to her lover, gently sitting down beside him and placing her hand in his. "Just one thing, dear."

"What's that?"

"My name will work just fine…Felicity Prowl was never public knowledge. But yours, Kazok…people who remember things are going to pick up on that. You might think about a new one."

"Really…" Kazok mused, rubbing at his chin with his free hand. He turned his eyes down for a moment, thinking long and hard before shrugging. "Well…howzabout Kael Gray?"

"Sounds similar…" Felicity mused. "Sure they won't catch on?"

"No." 'Kael' said, shaking his head gently. "In real life, I'm very pleasant to be around."

"Reploids with last names…suppose we should drop them?"

"What, out here??" Kael snorted. "Hardly. No, I wouldn't worry about that. We are who we are, Felice. And nobody worth their salt will take that away from us. Never again."

Felicity Prowl thought over their situation for a few moments, and then had to shut her eyes as a few more tears, this time of relief and joy sprang loose. She squeezed his hand even tighter.

"I love you, Kael Gray. Crippled or not."

"And I love you, Felicity Prowl." Kael, the reborn reploid said gently, squeezing back. "From here until eternity."

Their final comments said, the two reploids turned and looked out at the star laden sky…

Now with eyes of hope, with eyes of purpose. They weren't Mavericks, and perhaps they never had truly been deserving of that name.

Whatever argument one could offer, there was one rebuttal that could shut down all naysayers.

They were together, and they were at peace. Holding each other near as they stared up to a sky filled with limitless potential, two souls came together in perfect synch.

The troubles, the conflicts, the wars and woes of the outside world, none of that was important then.

Just two lost souls, who had finally found each other.

And that was all that mattered.

1:30 P.M.June 28th, 2131

Siberian Wilderness

Cossack's Citadel

"This Citadel was, at one point, much smaller than it is today." Toad Man croaked in his robotic voice to the latest batch of curious tourists to come through. He guided them through the sections of the castle known and accessible to the public, almost waddling as he jogged along on his shorter legs. His primary means of mobility was jumping from point to point like his namesake, but that tended to frighten most people who were, for the most part, usually on edge for being so close to an old model Robot Master.

"However, the events of 2075 and the Fourth Robot Rebellion expanded this simplistic castle of Cossack's, which had been built by his fortunes made in the early years of the robotics revolution. As you may recall from historical archives and various reports, the world thought Albert William Wily, a.k.a. Doctor Wily, deceased and buried beneath the rubble of his third Skull Castle at the conclusion of the previous Robot Rebellion. However, as Cossack discovered, this was not the case."

The pack of humans, with a curious reploid here and there, stared about at the empty walls and hallways of the castle with puzzled gazes. Toad Man was thankful that nobody had spoken up yet…these tours always went more smoothly the faster he drove them along. He wasn't always the best tour guide, that was usually Bright Man's job…

"Doctor Wily came to Cossack in secret, with a pact that the Russian robotics engineer and ex-Sennet Robotics genius could not refuse. Work for him, and the life of his daughter, Kalinka Cossack would remain safe. Refuse…and Kalinka would die."

"I thought the smart policy was not to bargain with kidnappers." A semi-intelligent looking man in his twenties spoke up accusingly. Toad Man turned and looked at the human, blinking calmly. He didn't have any either mood he could portray with the shuttering motion of his eyelids.

"In this case, there is one difference. To Sergei Cossack, his daughter Kalinka was all that he had left in this world. Wily held all the trump cards, and to a man whose very life hangs over the precipice, Cossack acted only as he could. He had to cooperate with Wily. Wily was no kidnapper, sir…a more appropriate term, to use twenty-first century jargon, would be terrorist."

Toad Man turned and continued to walk at his painfully slow pace. "What Wily intended to do was remain hidden in the shadows; to keep the world blind to his escape from the grave. At the same time, the other part of his goal was a simple one. Having lost to Mega Man three times before, Wily latched onto the idea that instead of leading a massive revolution over several areas with some overall objective in mind, that were he to focus solely on the goal of dealing with the Blue Bomber, and were to succeed in that endeavor, the rest of his ambitions would function far smoother. To accomplish this second deed, Wily began rapid construction on adding to Cossack's Castle; and so, today, the structure that you walk through is called a Citadel. It was Wily's influence and objectives that transformed this once peaceful and benign outpost of humanity in the wilderness into a perilous fortress. To some extent, Cossack's abode was renovated to resemble Wily's traditional Skull Castles; the madman did have enough sense to make enough alterations that anybody passing through would not become suspicious of any other influence or presence. Once that was accomplished, Wily turned his attentions on myself, and the rest of my brethren."

"Didn't Wily create you??" A woman asked curiously.

Toad Man shook his head as he led them around a corner, a lone Bubble Bat hanging from the ceiling and peering down at them all curiously. "Negative. It was Dr. Sergei Cossack that was responsible for our original designs. He retired from Sennet Robotics out of disgust for their profiteering ways; Cossack could never purposefully build robots and technological automatons meant solely for the purpose of destruction and killing. As you know, Sennet Robotics was responsible for the construction of many early 'warbots', including the 'Pengi' PNG missile series that Wily implemented during the First Robot Rebellion. Cossack did not agree with their policies, and that is why he left. We were built and activated by Cossack with our own special abilities; but he made it clear to us, as I have been told, that our purpose was not to cause destruction, but rather to use our unique abilities to benefit this world."

"Wasn't that the role of all Robot Masters?" A reploid asked, lifting an eyebrow as he stared up at the Bubble Bat. It blinked back at him, causing the reploid to shiver. "To serve a useful role in reclaiming the world and aiding in its functions?"

"There is one difference." Toad Man said, turning about. "What makes myself, and my seven associates different from all the other, more mass produced Robot Master models, is that we are unique. There was no mold for us; Cossack made us each individually, with no thoughts or dreams of constructing duplicates. A review of factory statistics will show you that by 2090, the majority of the 'Robot Master' class robots had been deactivated and scrapped, due mostly to mistrust that humans held about them thanks to the efforts of Wily. Occasionally, you may spy an Orpheus or Heracles model serving some purpose in a far off and remote region; but Robot Masters left general circulation. The ones that are left are rare gems; sadly, most serve mundane, if not demeaning roles. Such is not the case for myself and my brothers. Because we are unique, individuals, so to speak, no such dismal fate awaited us after the Age of Robots passed."

Toad Man turned and walked on, taking them out of the dark hallway and back into the brightly lit central room where they had entered from.

"Wily merely modified us, and turned us into what our creator despised most. We became true Robot Masters, not the semi-beneficial term that Light and a sane Wily referred to back in 2067 to 2069, but the weapon, the leader of destruction that the Robot Rebellions have caused that term to mean. I, like the rest of my brothers, have no memory of this procedure, or of our actions during this time when we were under Wily's control. After we were defeated…destroyed…by Mega Man, Cossack had to rebuild us almost from scratch, to use a colloquialism. It was only through his oral account of that time that we hold any knowledge of what became of us."

Toad Man turned, nodding his massive head as the tour group clambered together around him in the central pavilion. "But, as the historical texts will show, Mega Man eventually made his way to this very Citadel, overcoming all the obstacles that Wily had forced Cossack to implement. Were it not for the actions taken by Mega Man's mysterious predecessor, Protoman, and his daring rescue of Kalinka Cossack from Wily's Skull Castle, it is highly probable that serious injury might have befallen Dr. Cossack as he battled with the Blue Bomber. Thankfully, that danger never occurred, and Mega Man went on to face Wily in his newest Skull Castle and overcome the odds yet again. To use another catch phrase, life returned to normal. Doctor Cossack rebuilt us all back to our original specifications…however, given the events of the Fourth Robot Rebellion, his dream that we might serve the world in a positive role was put aside. So instead, we became caretakers of this place, and as the 22nd Century rolled around, tour guides. Today, my functions are the maintenance of this facility as well as giving tours to people who would inquire about the past and the events that shaped the world today. People like yourselves." Toad Man clasped his hands together and bowed slightly, as best as he could, given his relative girth. "And that concludes our tour. Are there any questions before I dismiss you to visit the gift shop?"

A few timid hands went up. Toad Man pointed to the back, where the inquisitive reploid stood.

"Is Sergei Cossack alive??"

Toad Man blinked calmly at the question. "If my creator were still alive today, he would be over eighty years old. Sadly, that is not the case. Sergei Cossack was approaching his 40's when the Fourth Robot Rebellion hit in 2075. The trauma from that event, as well as all subsequent Robot Rebellions caused Sergei Cossack's life to end shortly after the War of 2090."

Once again, Toad Man felt a sensation close to what Mistress Kalinka might call 'relief'. A robot could not lie…at least to a direct question, where the answer was ordered. But to a simple tour group, well, you could bend ways around the Three Laws and their subsequent subfunctions.

"But who has been running things here since then?" A woman piped up worriedly. "If your creator passed away all those years before, then who has been guiding your actions?"

A slight sense of chagrin came from that question. But it was one that Toad Man had heard enough.

"While Sergei Cossack passed away, his daughter Kalinka Cossack still remains alive. She oversees all affairs here at the Citadel in place of her father. We haven't seen her, and we will not, but be assured that she is the one that we, Dr. Cossack's robots, report to."

The audience, at least the human portion, seemed to sigh in relief of that one. Toad Man could sense that the crowd was beginning to run short on questions.

"I will answer one more." Toad Man suggested calmly.

It was the same male reploid who raised his hand for the final question. There was a glint of innocent curiosity, and also perhaps a little hope in the corner of his eye.

"You and your 'brothers' have lived for decades by now. In all that time, have any of you ever demonstrated abilities or ideas that exceeded your programming?"

Toad Man blinked for a few moments. "Would you please restate your question, sir? I apologize that I do not fully understand your query."

"During 'Sigma's Sixth' not long ago, the Maverick forces attacked five different regions of Earth in an attempt to overwhelm the already strained Maverick Hunters. One of the attacks took place in Moscow, correct?"

"I would presume so." Toad Man shrugged.

"Well, what seemed interesting about the battle in Moscow was the reports of its saviors; according to eyewitness accounts, the warriors seemed shorter than most normal Maverick Hunters, and employed tactics and battle methods not usually associated with the Hunter forces. Of course, given the explosive nature of that arena, the reports varied a bit, and nobody really got a good look at the five warriors responsible for stopping the Maverick presence…but some of the witnesses claimed with certainty that it had been Robots that they had seen fighting the Mavericks."

"I see." Toad Man said dully, blinking his wide eyes. "So how does that connect with your question?"

"Is it possible that Robot Masters, if they remained active long enough, could develop a sense of self that transcended their limitations? And if so, could they mount an attack against Maverick forces with any hope of winning?"

The inside of Toad Man's head whirred and buzzed as he sought for a suitable answer. A slow and nearly invisible vapor rose up from the vents on top of his head as his mind sought to cool itself. Thankfully, through all the variants of the Laws of Robotics, and all the balances and counterbalances, he found a solution.

"Like you said, eyewitness reports are sketchy at best surrounding the Moscow attack. And despite most commonly held beliefs, reploids come in all shapes and sizes. It is highly doubtful that mere robots could pose a significant threat to Maverick forces; not even Robot Masters would have the power to overcome them. The technology that built Robot Masters is decades old; older weapons would rarely put a ding into today's modern warhawks. More than likely, the eyewitnesses that swear it was robots who saved them were slightly hallucinating; emotional trauma surrounding such an event is common, and has a tendency to influence perceived memories."

"As for the other part of your query, sir, it is true that this unit, like my brothers, has been active for more than forty years. However, in that expanse of time, very little about my functionality has changed. Robot Masters, at least the ones who were not reprogrammed by Wily, are controlled by the Asimovian Laws of Robotics; we can only act within set parameters. Because of this, we are forever limited. How much time passes is a negligible factor."

It was at that moment that Pharaoh Man and Bright Man walked out of the gift shop, pausing their stroll to stare blankly at the tour group and then at Toad Man.

Toad Man allowed himself the barest of flickers of a gaze towards them before finishing his response. "No Robot Master I know of has ever expanded beyond its programming. We are not reploids, and we could not ever claim to be close to their level of possibility. There is your answer, sir. No matter how much time passes, a mere robot cannot develop beyond its limitations." The Robot Master clapped his hands together and bowed again. "I would like to thank you all for coming to visit us here at Cossack's Citadel today. If you will kindly follow Bright Man over there, he will guide you to the gift shop and then back to your hoverbuses for transport back to civilization."

The crowd gave a few laughs at the programmed joke, then shambled after Bright Man, who led them into the gift shop with a stoic and emotionless gait.

Pharaoh Man's eyes flickered for a few moments before he turned and made sure that the last of the tourists had left. Satisfied, he turned back to Toad Man and walked towards him, frowning slightly.

"You know, you did lie just then."

"Impossible. Robots cannot lie." Toad Man replied tonelessly. "I did not."

"He asked you if it was possible for a robot to exceed its programming."

"And I answered truthfully."

"Oh, did you now?? What then, of me??"

"I said that a mere robot could not develop beyond its limitations." Toad Man reaffirmed, his eyes curling up in the closest thing to a preprogrammed smile Cossack had given him. "You, however, are no mere robot, Pharaoh Man. Therefore, the statement I gave was completely truthful."

"On at least one count." Pharaoh Man grumbled, walking towards another corridor and the hidden elevator that would take them down to the Fourth Ring. He motioned for Toad Man to follow, who obligingly did. "What then, of your statements concerning the Moscow attack?? You did lie there…it was robots who staved off the Maverick assault."

Toad Man said nothing, his mind silently whirring over the possibilities.

"No…I cannot lie. I did not lie. It was not robots who stopped them."

"Oh?? Then what do you classify yourself as, Toad Man?? No mere robot, a step beyond? Just moments before, you inferred that only I was capable of such a state."

Toad Man visibly winced, his pace even slowing down as the ramifications hit.

Pharaoh Man stopped and turned, suddenly concerned and worried over the Conflict of the Laws he had caused in his friend.

But a few more seconds later, Toad Man's wincing stopped, and he pulled himself back upright. He blinked a few times and vented more hot air, then finally spoke.

"At times, one must lie." He answered feebly.

Pharaoh Man grinned. "There ya go."

Toad Man started walking again, shaking his head. "I must admit, Pharaoh Man…your attempts to try and transform the rest of us to your state of being can be annoying at times. My pathways don't seem to agree with it either."

"Aah." Pharaoh Man rumbled, throwing a hand over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it." He stopped at a wall with a portrait of Sergei Cossack, then gently pushed in. A hidden rotating doorway swung open, and the two walked inside. The wall swung shut behind them.

The two stepped into the elevator and Pharaoh Man cleared his throat. "Control room, Fourth Ring." The transport device beeped in response, then began its slow descent.

"Some days, keeping the Citadel appropriate for tour groups grows rather tiresome." Toad Man said calmly. He rubbed at his head. "Other days, answering those questions gives me headaches. Do you suppose that I could pretend to just be programmed to provide a general tour and ignore the question and answer session at the end??"

"Oh, you could." Pharaoh Man mused. "Of course, if two groups ever compared notes, they might notice the difference."

"That is an unlikely possibility." Toad Man offered. "We rarely get visitors anyways. I suppose people believe that it is easier to learn history by viewing a website or a downloadable data diskette than going to a place and uncovering the truth with actual physical evidence."

"Whining about the state of the world again, I see." Pharaoh Man replied.

Toad Man shrugged, an easy motion given his hunching shoulders. "Oh. Mistress Kalinka is down in the control center. She seemed eager to speak to you."

"I'll bet she is." Pharaoh Man nodded slowly.

"By the way, how did your emergency meeting with the rest of your Ice Beacon assault team go?"

Pharaoh Man shrugged, his eyes calm. "That, Toad Man, is more than likely what Kalinka wishes to know as well. I'll answer it when we arrive."

Amazingly enough, a small majority of Cossack's metallic creations had congregated themselves around Kalinka Cossack, waiting just as she did for news from Pharaoh Man concerning his impromptu trip. Even Skull Man, who usually kept to himself tending to the darkest and least hospitable regions of the Fortress. His Skull Barrier gave him a level of protection against the sometimes fritzy fusion power generator kept deep underground.

When the elevator opened, all eyes turned towards it. And so Pharaoh Man and Toad Man stepped out, to find themselves stared at by five pairs of eyes.

The silver and goldenrod colored Pharaoh Man blinked at them all. "I didn't call for a press conference."

Kalinka shrugged, staring around at the individuals she had found it easier to call Ring, Dive, Skull, and Drill. The only two missing from the assembly were Bright Man and Dust Man, the previous busy in the gift shop and the latter currently vacuuming the portion of the castle that Kalinka lived in. "You can't blame them for being curious, Phare."

"No, I don't suppose I can." Pharaoh Man said, relaxing his posture. He walked towards them and shrugged. "I assume you all wish to know what the meeting was about, yes?"

Even Toad Man nodded in reply to that query.

The one who Sergei Cossack had seen so much promise in sighed, scratching at the back of his head. "We did succeed in preventing Ice Beacon from deploying, and in so doing spared this world from a headache. However, Bristol, the reploid who led us all on the attack, and in part was responsible for Ice Beacon's existence, then informed us that despite MI9's scrambled, chaotic state of being, that they will eventually regroup. She asked us…if we would be willing to continue working with her, until the time when MI9 was removed as a threat."

The other Robot Masters accepted this information with relative calm. Kalinka gripped tightly onto her chair's armrests, shutting her eyes tightly.

It was Toad Man who examined the situation and demonstrated the most insightful solution to it.

"Well, if anyone needs me, I will be up on the tourist levels. Bright Man may be in need of assistance." He turned and left.

One by one, Pharaoh Man's brothers did the same, each quoting a different reason for their escape. Silently, he thanked each and every one of them. For 'mere robots', as they preferred to call themselves, they had gained amazing discretion over the years.

And then it was just Kalinka and Pharaoh Man left in the control room, one standing without flinching in the slightest, the other sitting with a resigned posture.

"Some days I get the distinct impression that anything aside from me slogging around here in the Citadel doesn't catch your interest as a functional life choice." Pharaoh Man said, breaking the dulling silence.

"I'm becoming more and more used to the idea I can't keep you to myself, at least." Kalinka shrugged, motioning for Pharaoh Man to sit at the other chair across from her. "For a woman who has spent nearly her entire life relying on her technological kin, that's remarkable improvement."

"Yes, but you still know how to kill a party." Pharaoh Man replied, settling into the padded chair. "At least you're not worried about me dying on you anymore."

"I think you've demonstrated a remarkable talent for escaping the dead." The Russian born woman leaned her seat back a ways. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand…why my father spent as much time with all of you as he did."

"Yes." Phare sighed, taking off his Egyptian styled headdress. Underneath, his metallic head was bald, and he rubbed at it absently. "He saw promise in us…and though, thanks to the events of the Fourth Robot Rebellion, we were forced to remain hidden from the world's true public eye, it was his wish that one day, we might exceed our programming." He looked over to Kalinka. "I think, to some degree, we've all done that."

"No." She said surprised, lifting an eyebrow. "It's just you."

"I may be the only one of us who has undergone mind freeze and survived, yes…But Kalinka, it's happening to the others as well. We spent decades here with you and with your father, learning about humanity and how to interact through you. And now, thanks to the visitations afforded us by X and the other trustworthy souls from the MHHQ, that experience has expanded in such a way that we are ALL expanding upon what we once were. Drill Man has said to me that he is AFRAID of changing. Afraid! A human emotion, Kalinka, one even I do not fully understand."

"Fear is not an emotion that one usually tries to understand, Phare." Kalinka replied, shaking her head. "It has its uses, but it does not like to be observed."

"Nevertheless, that is the word Drill used to describe it. And Toad Man, Kalinka…Toad Man, in order to solve a crisis of Law Conflicts, LIED."

"I thought robots couldn't lie." Kalinka uttered in shock.

"In his words, 'at times, one must lie'. He said that, Kalinka. It's amazing, and it is something even I don't understand, but as advanced or outdated as my brothers feel they are, they are all changing. Like me, just as Cossack wanted, they are evolving."

"This isn't possible." Kalinka said, shaking her head. "You're…you're Robot Masters, you can't…No, Phare, it doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense…if you accept that some things happen that defy rationale." Pharaoh Man replied. "Years ago, a robot named Protoman was created, nicknamed Blues. He demonstrated an intelligence, a sense of self that didn't add up. Later, a robot named Rock was created, who would save the world time and time again, despite the fact that by all rights, he shouldn't even have been capable of staring down Wily in his Warmachines without suffering mind freeze. As the decade of 2070 came and went and gave way to 2080, there was a fundamental shift in their perceptions, in the way they acted. Rock and Blues acted less like robots, and more like the humans they interacted with. Light had to have noticed…He had to have figured out what allowed that transition. Because he made Mega Man X. And X, as you know, gave birth to a race of thinking, feeling, rationalizing, entirely human acting metallic lifeforms called reploids. I don't understand what that bridge between robot and reploid is, and I don't ever think I will. But I do know that Cossack thought such a change was possible in us, and it has HAPPENED."

"So what are you then??" Kalinka asked. "Robot, or reploid?"

Pharaoh Man sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Neither. Somewhere in between."

"Kind of like what Mega Man was?"

"Somehow, I doubt I'm anywhere near what he had." Pharaoh Man admonished.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I wasn't made by Light, and I didn't save the world eight times over and then some."

"No, you just settled for twice." Kalinka answered back quietly. "Phare, in response to everything you just got done saying, I have this; maybe you all are changing. If that is so, there's nothing about it that frightens me. I may not understand how it works either, but unlike you, I have the capacity to accept things on faith. But let me ask you; does your current state of existence bother you?"

"Why would you ask that??" Pharaoh Man queried, lifting an eyebrow.

Kalinka folded her hands primly and stared at him. "We're family, Phare. As your sister, I have a right to feel concerned."

The Robot Master let out a loud sigh, completely unnecessary for anything but the humanity that simple gesture displayed. He leaned back in his seat, left hand anxiously thrumming on the chair's armrest.

"Honestly…"

"Honestly."

"Yes. I am afraid." Pharaoh Man replied. "Doctor Cossack said that I was capable of doing things that I never thought I could, but I doubt anywhere in those thoughts he had existed the possibility I might function without the guidance of the Three Laws. I mean, they're the fundamental basis of how a robot's mind computes everything they do and say. Every decision, no matter how big or small is routed and calculated and balanced, accorded to the credos of Asimovian Directive. Thanks to your comments, mind freeze was triggered in my mind. Somewhere, a part of me accepted that I had broken the First Law. And because of that, the auto-destruct feature of every robotic brain that runs on the Laws of Robotics, which is nearly every one, triggered. I should have died, but I fought back and won…using a part of me that had somehow been growing for years. I stand before you today as a robot without the Laws controlling his actions with an iron fist. Because of that, I am capable of acts I couldn't before. Because of that…I was able to assist Bristol and the others in stopping Ice Beacon. I'm still a long ways from whatever sense of humanity I'm supposed to have. I make decisions based on instinct, on what feels right. I don't have my balance system, I don't have the Laws to tell me how I should act, and that…"

"That makes you feel uneasy." Kalinka finished.

"…Precisely." Pharaoh Man leaned forward and shook his head again. "Is this how I'm supposed to act?"

"It's how reploids act." Kalinka answered softly. "Phare, reploids don't have the Laws to rigidly control them. You went for years with that overwhelming presence guiding you. They don't have that. To them, the Laws are little more than moralistic dictates. How they act, how they learn…that's up to them and their environment."

"Next, you'll tell me it's the same for humans."

"No…at times, it seems worse." Kalinka said.

Pharaoh Man said nothing in reply.

Kalinka sighed. "Look, Phare. I don't have all the answers to the questions that plague you. But what I do know is this; you can't live every day second guessing every decision you make. Your life is your own now, and nobody can tell you otherwise. You are FREE. And though making decisions will seem tough, I will tell you to rely on your instincts, on what feels right. That is all humanity has ever had to run on, all reploids have ever had. You've had years of the Laws guiding your actions, and it's on those precepts that I have no doubt your instincts now run on. More than that, I know you to be a good person, honest and trustworthy, a spirit untouched by malice or dark intentions. Before, I worried that I was letting you get yourself into trouble by running off into the world, by letting you do all these things. Even back when Hazil came and converted you and four of your brothers partially so you could act as the 'Foregone Five' and save Moscow from Maverick attack, I had my doubts. But I no longer doubt, and I no longer worry. You have proven yourself capable in every respect as a leader, as an individual, and as a person capable of making their own decisions, wise beyond their years. Even more than that…"

She paused and shut her eyes, opening them with newfound fire in her words. "Even more than that, you have made me proud to call you, and every last one of my father's creations, my brothers. And I mean that now, more than I have ever meant any compliment I've ever given to you before. I'm not worried, Phare. I trust you to do the right thing, in whatever path you walk. As for the others…Bristol, and everybody else who plans to continue on with their work…If you want to go with them, that's your decision. Whatever that choice is, brother, I will support it. As will every last one of your other brothers."

"You say that out of truth?"

"I say that because I know them." Kalinka shot back, smiling gently. "You have spent more than four decades alive in your current configuration, but I have been alive just as long. And I've lived and worked with them as well."

Pharaoh Man exhaled again and reclined his chair even further. "I'm relieved you feel that way…and I suppose, I already knew that the others felt similarly. It was you I was worried about the most, Kalinka."

"I can't hold you back any longer, Phare. This is your life now…you have to do what you feel is right."

"What I feel is right…" He mused. "What they're doing is for a good cause. This MI9, after seeing Ice Beacon I have no doubt that their intentions are just as malevolent as Willow and Bristol claimed. They would topple the world, all in the name of human supremacy and an elimination of the humanoid races that were created to help this planet pull free of the chaos that humanity itself was responsible for creating. If Ice Beacon had worked, then all would have been lost. But we stopped that. Now, there's just the remains of MI9 to deal with, and the assurance by the two ex-MI9 reploids that if this organization isn't stopped and isn't whittled down the rest of the way, that the troubles of the reploid race are not yet over with." Pharaoh Man turned towards Kalinka. "They're a competent group to begin with, Kalinka. And as I was in that room listening to them talk, I began to wonder just how much they truly did need me, compared to you and the rest of our family in this Citadel."

Kalinka said nothing, but leaned back farther, watching Pharaoh Man's mind furiously struggle against itself. Curious, she waited to see what he would say…and which argument would win, now that he ran on nothing but his own precepts.

"Things…Things have been different since our father died. And I don't know if you remember or not, but when he DID die, I cried. Kalinka, maybe you were never aware of it, but I felt the pain of his passing just as much as you did." Pharaoh Man looked up sadly. "Before the 21st Century passed, he performed an operation on me; he gave me tear ducts, and the means to shed the same precious symbols of sadness that humans take for granted. And I never once felt the compulsion to use them before…but on that day he died, I did cry. And I finally understood why humans do. I called him 'dad'…but I did so too late for him to hear."

Pharaoh Man looked to the ceiling, blinking to eliminate the few watery droplets that had formed over his optics. "I don't think any of us will get over losing him anytime soon…but we're taking steps in the right direction, and that's what matters. I just wish he had lived a little longer…because right now, I would give anything for his guidance in this matter."

Kalinka pursed her lips for a moment, then tapped her fingertips together. "Oddly enough, Pharaoh…he did give you guidance." She wiped her own tears away. "Remember?? One of the last things he said to you…"

Pharaoh Man blinked, thinking back. And of course he remembered. His memory still functioned as a robot's did.

"You…must not become a recluse because of my passing. The years have given you and your brothers so much…and now I see glimmers of intelligence I never could have dreamed possible. What Mega Man had by fluke, you now begin to gain by countless ages of experience, and your interactions with X and his friends. Grow, Pharaoh. GROW. You can do so much for this world…and for yourself."

He quoted it word for word back to Kalinka.

And when he was done, he looked at her with a dumbfounded look on his face.

She merely smiled at him. "Even in death…he gives you the guidance you plead for." Pharaoh Man blinked several times before a gentle smile filled his face.

"I suppose…I suppose he does."

He picked himself up out of his chair and cleared his throat. "I thank you for your time, Kalinka. You have helped me to make my choice, and I assume you know what that decision was."

"Of course." She answered back. She stood up as well, walking over and standing beside him as she looked around the dimly lit massive rooms and hallways that formed the mostly abandoned Fourth Ring of the Citadel. "But I will miss you. We all will."

"I don't even know if they have any clue about where we're supposed to go." Pharaoh Man sighed, putting his headdress back on. "Many aspects of this entire idea seem slapped together."

"That's the human influence for you." Kalinka giggled. "We don't always think out our actions before we do them." Her smile faded as she put an arm on his shoulder. "This place was empty before, though…without you, it will be far closer to a crypt than it ever was before."

"I know." Pharaoh Man replied softly. "I can remember a time when this old Castle…this old Citadel…used to be a lot more lively. Those were good days."

"Yes…yes, they were. Days when my hair was still a brilliant corn blond." Kalinka admitted sadly.

The two looked around the abandoned Citadel a little longer. Pharaoh Man's mind turned to all he would be leaving behind…

And then, in another one of those bursts that hinted of something more working inside of his mind, an idea struck him.

He stepped away from Kalinka, his eyes darting every which way with newfound intensity. Startled, Kalinka looked towards him.

"What is it, Phare?"

"This place was a lot more lively years before." He repeated himself. He looked back to her for a moment, then broke his gaze away nervously. "And do you know what?"

"Not personally…"

"Funny."

"Seriously now. What are you thinking??"

"I was thinking…That this place didn't have to become a graveyard just yet." He answered back, his attention only half aware of his surroundings.

Kalinka frowned for several moments as she tried to understand what her brother was getting at.

When it finally did hit, she broke into a grin that went from ear to ear.

Her brother truly was a genius at times.

8:47 P.M.June 28th, 2131

Hong Kong

Tia Xiang had just finished tucking in Lon and Kwai, a rigorous process that took an hour and a half, a great deal of whining, and on average, three glasses of water and seven bedtime stories. She could still hear Lon squirreling about, shuffling underneath the bedspread.

"Lon, go to BED!" She shouted towards the sleeping quarters with just a hint of annoyance. In response came a childish giggle and then blissful silence. The single mother sighed and shut her eyes, praying for a moment before wandering over to the kitchenette and pulling out her warmed up tea.

"Some days." She murmured quietly to herself, letting the caffeinated vapors of her drink rise up and waft into her nostrils.

"I'll agree with that statement." Came a quiet, but good natured voice from out in the living room. "But at least those two are feeling better."

Tia didn't bother screaming, or making a fuss that somebody had managed to break into the apartment. She knew very well who it was, and that all he had had to do was warp across a meter to go from the apartment hallways to inside her pad.

And the invitation to visit, offered to him about a month before, was still as valid as ever.

She shut the microwave door and walked back out to the living room, shaking her head. "Yes, I'm thankful for your help. Sicknesses aren't easy for them, or me. You know, I had a feeling you'd be coming back eventually."

"What, you knew??" Wycost queried, surprised as he lifted his leg up onto his other knee.

"I was expecting you sometime tonight…I just wasn't sure when. Made myself some high test tea for the occasion, seeing as it could have been anytime…" She stared forlornly at the cup. "You came early, though. If I drink this, I'll be up the rest of the night."

She looked over at the black leather jacketed reploid for a moment, then sighed and took a long swig. "What the Hell."

Wycost gave her a half-smirk as he settled onto the couch. "Hey, you gotta live wild some days, right?"

"Indeed." She answered back. "And let me compliment you on your Chinese. The regional dialectic isn't from around here, but you have the rudiments down quite well."

"Did I ever tell you what I did before I was a Maverick Hunter, Tia??" He pulled off his sunglasses again, revealing the brown eyes underneath.

She sat down in her own chair in the living room and gave a gentle shake of her head. "Somehow, that never entered our discussions…what with you trying to locate your friend and all."

"Yeah." Wycost sighed. "More on that later. But for now, what I was saying…Originally, Tia, I worked in New York as a policeman of sorts."

"Aah, that explains where you learned it." She nodded her head. "I see that New York is still as diverse as ever then."

"More than ever. Now, if we could get the bigots to admit reploids are people too, we'd be doing better." Wycost affirmed.

Tia Xiang gave him another long look before lowering her eyes back down to her tea mug and taking another drink. "So…you ended up finding her, didn't you?"

Wycost nodded his head. "More than that, even…"

"Hush." Tia chastised him, raising a hand. "Wycost, I wasn't finished. Just listen for a change." She cleared her throat, her eyes seeming to glaze over and stare towards somewhere far distant. "You did find her, but not in favorable circumstances. Working with old allies, and a new one you barely trusted, you went into the lion's den and rescued her…But there was more." Tia shook her head and the dull look in her eyes faded. "Wycost, I don't know what I saw exactly after that. But to my eyes, you and all the others…you were walking into a storm, a cloudline I could not see beyond. And I have never before had that happen."

Wycost stared blankly at her, then quietly put his glasses back on.

"You try to hide the answers from me even now?"

"Some things aren't meant to be known, Tia." Wycost replied gravely. "Did we end up doing something tremendous? Yes. Did we face impossible odds, and a situation that demanded immediate action? Yes. Was it just as threatening, and just as dangerous as your presumed mental blank would indicate it to be? Definitely." Wycost set his hands on his lap. "But I can't tell you anything more about it than that. I would be putting you at risk if I did."

"I thought as much." Tia sighed, putting a hand up in front of her eyes. "A storm…that is what you and the others went through. I don't feel jealous of your trials either."

"You say it like they aren't concluded, Tia." Wycost said jokingly.

She gave him an enigmatic raised eyebrow, and an expression that screamed of her true knowledge. "You tell me."

Behind his sunglasses, Wycost shut his eyes, exhaling in a near silent whistle. "Damnit. Tia, why do I even bother talking to you, if you already know everything I'm going to say?"

She rolled her eyes. "Wycost, I don't know everything. I don't know what you're going to say…I may know tidbits of what sit on your mind, but that's all. Enough to let me know what's bothering you, and when you're trying to mask your own concerns to keep me from worrying."

"It gets a little unnerving."

"That's precisely why I don't use it that often…or if I am forced to, I do it in a way that doesn't draw attention." Tia explained, a hint of pain in her voice. "But when you showed up, and I sensed that difference about you, I decided that it was time to use my gifts." Tia shook her head. "I would say that perhaps I was wrong to do so…but then again, I've never been wrong. So I would be lying there."

Wycost got the message. "Sorry." He apologized softly.

"So tell me what I don't know." Tia prodded, lifting her tea towards him. "Tell me your troubles."

Wycost stared at her. "You already know them, don't you?"

"I'd rather hear it come from you." She answered quickly. "Somehow, that can sometimes help to put things in perspective to talk about it."

Wycost shifted his position on the couch, his blue jeans ruffling against the couch's artificial fabric. He put his hands into his leather jacket's coat pockets, having very little else to do with them but fidget, something he found aggravating at best.

"I'm not the same person I was when I left the Maverick Hunters. And I'm not the same person who worked with the MSWAT in New York, either. I don't know what I am anymore, aside from Wycost."

"You need that sense of belonging?" Tia prodded. "I thought you walked alone."

"I feel alone." Wycost answered resignedly. "Big difference. After I…was cured of my illness, I just couldn't be a Maverick Hunter anymore. The lines had blurred too much for me, and I was tired of fighting what I saw as a senseless war."

"You've seen it from both sides, haven't you?"

He stared at her, mouth parted just enough to show surprise for an instant before he recaptured his calm. "It's quite plain on you, Wycost. The physical shadows have left you, but the mental ones will never completely be cast off."

"Yeah." He shrugged, regaining the rest of his composure. "I felt I had to make amends…maybe I was being stupid in thinking that, but I thought that just this once, maybe I would act to preserve life instead of taking it to serve the same end. That was why I went after Bristol…because Bastion was still stuck in the MHHQ, and because after all he'd done for me, I damn well owed him something back. Making sure his little woman didn't get into trouble seemed like a good idea at the time."

"So I was wrong." He continued, not giving Tia a chance to interject. "What I find is that Bristol's going soul searching for a part of herself she intentionally left behind; and while I'm at it, I keep bumping into this redheaded reploid who gives me nothing but grief and turkey sized ulcers. Then things really fall apart…And I suddenly didn't know what was right, and what was wrong anymore."

Tia nodded her head, but Wycost paused. "What, aren't you going to say something?"

"You're doing a fine job by yourself here, Wycost." Tia shrugged. "So far, you're not leaving out anything important."

"As in doubt as I was, I had to carry through on my promise, so we saved Bristol from…well, them." Wycost shook his head. "Let's just say that after that…things got interesting."

"In any case, the storm has passed." Tia concluded. "The battle for today has ended, but your mind stares towards the horizon."

"That's an apt and cryptic way of putting it."

"Mysticism is rarely blatant. It relies on interpretation and uncertainty."

"So how do I know if you fully understand what I'm faced with?"

"You don't, and I'm not always completely sure myself." Tia replied, ambiguous as ever. "What I do know is that the confusion you put aside when you went to fight the cloudy horizon has returned. You begin to wonder now of old memories, and of obligations you once held. To them you add what has been suggested, and are left trying to construct a walkway through your new life." She lifted an eyebrow and took another sip of coffee. "Would that about sum things up?"

Wycost shut his eyes, an action Tia could not see, but one the Bronx Bomber guessed she was well aware of. "Tia, what I'd be doing…I'd be leaving behind everything I ever knew if I kept going this way. I'd have to, because friends would either become enemies if they found out, or would be in danger because of our relationship if THEY found out." He emphasized the last part, a clear indicator of which 'they' he spoke of.

Tia gave him a knowing nod, then sipped the last of her drink in one quick gulp. Gently, she set the empty cup down on the small table beside her. "You didn't come here for answers that my powers could give you." She folded her hands together, staring over them to Wycost's grave features. "It was something else that brought you back."

The Bronx Bomber remained mute before he cast his eyes down.

"And you still don't like to take off those sunglasses." She added. "You're hiding behind them more tonight than the last time you visited."

"I was a different person then. The world was different then."

"The world hasn't changed, Wycost, and neither have you. You just know a little more about the two."

"I wish I didn't."

"But you do. So I say it again. You came here for a reason other than the guidance my visions could give."

"Can't you see what that reason is?"

Tia shrugged, keeping a half smile. "Not even I know everything. I knew you would be coming back…but why exactly was beyond my sight."

"Mommy?" Came a muffled voice from the living areas. Tia jumped in her seat a bit, then relaxed and stared over to the shaded regions just beyond sight. From the darkness wandered a small child, lazily rubbing at its eyes. "Mommy, I can't sleep."

Tia Xiang sighed, rolling her eyes. "Kwai, you always say that."

The small girl finished rubbing at her eyes and shook her head. "No…I don't mommy, but tonight I really can't…I keep hearing things." As she became more awake in the dim living room lights, she turned and saw Wycost. "M…Mr. Wycost??" Kwai turned to Tia. "Mommy, what's he doing here?"

"We were just talking, Kwai." Tia explained a little tersely. "But it's past your bedtime."

"Mr. Wycost, you wanna come see my dollies?" Kwai asked eagerly, her young mind shifting away from the topic at hand.

Wycost smiled sadly. "Not tonight, Kwai. Don't you think you had better get back to bed like your mommy's telling you to?"

"I guess." Kwai responded, her eagerness deflated. "But me and Lon…we wanted to see you again."

Wycost took his glasses off, then bent down on his haunches so Kwai could look him straight in the face.

He smiled a little bit before he reached for her hand and put his sunglasses in it. "I know you did, Kwai. I wanted to come see you too."

Tia bit her lip and watched as Kwai's face brightened, and her stubby fingers gripped tightly around the multipurpose protective lenses. "Does that mean you'll stay?" She asked hopefully, her bright eyes looking into Wycost's brown ones.

Wycost's smile slowly lessened. "I can't."

Kwai's own face went gravely sad then. "You can't? Why not?"

Wycost blinked a few times, looking into Kwai's crushed eyes for a long moment. And then he turned and looked over to Tia who gave him a quiet, but puzzled gaze.

It clicked for him then. Why he had come back here…why he couldn't stay.

"I don't belong here." Wycost told Kwai, his voice holding new resolve. "My place is out there, somewhere else."

"But why can't you stay??" Kwai pressed, her eyes beginning to mist over. "I need you. Lon needs you. Even mommy misses having you around!"

Wycost shut his eyes, then opened them again. "Kwai…do you know what I am?"

She stared blankly at him.

"I'm a reploid, Kwai. Do you know what a reploid is?"

She slowly nodded her head. "You're metal, right?"

"Exactly. I'm not a true human. I just look and act like one." Wycost held out his hand, letting her feel it. "It isn't as warm as a human hand. Because of what I am, I could never fit in here."

Quietly, she squeezed his hand, then looked at his face. "I don't care. I don't care if you are a 'reploid', Wycost. I still love you." She nodded her head. "It doesn't matter what you are…it's how you act that's important. That's what my mommy told me."

Wycost felt his heart breaking apart a little more, and he pulled her into a tight hug that she returned.

"Kwai…why do you want me to stay?" Wycost asked, not letting go, his own eyes beginning to grow wet. "Is it because your real father left you all? Is it because you think I can fill in for him?"

She sniffled back her tears and nodded her head.

Wycost pulled her back and looked at her. "I can't, Kwai. I'm sorry, but I just can't be who you want me to be."

The hurt look in her eyes burned into him worse than the magrounds that he'd been hit with at Ice Beacon.

"I know you don't understand right now. And I know it hurts." Wycost said quietly, his face unchanged. "But some day, maybe you will figure out why I can't stay. It's not because I don't love you or Lon or your mom…I love you all very much. That's why I can't stay."

The hurt expression faded out, his words sinking in to Kwai's perception.

"Do you understand?" Wycost asked.

Kwai shook her head. "But…you still love me?"

Wycost gave her another hug, even tighter. And he did cry then, two tears rolling down his face and dropping onto her shoulder. "More than you'll ever know."

"Will you ever come back?" Kwai pressed.

"Maybe." Wycost said, his voice cracking a little. "Would you still want me to?"

"I don't want to lose you." Kwai answered, sniffling back her tears.

"You never will." Wycost replied, letting go.

She took a step back, examining him for a while. She brushed the last bits of tears from her eyes, then wiped his away too. "You don't need to cry, Wycost. This isn't goodbye forever. And you never cry."

She snuffled for a moment, then smiled at him and set his sunglasses back over his eyes. "I'm gonna go back to bed now, Wycost. But come visit me soon. You promise?"

Wycost readjusted his sunglasses a bit, then nodded his head. "I don't know when…but I will come back to see you all again. I promise you, Kwai. I will come back."

The little girl nodded and gave him one last hug, then did the same with her mother before tottering back to her room. Wycost lifted his glasses back up, stared at them for a moment, then quietly tucked them away in the pocket of his coat.

Tia cleared her throat as she looked at Wycost. "Aren't you going to wear your sunglasses? Kwai seemed eager to have you do so."

"I think Kwai is smarter than I am at times." Wycost smiled, nodding his head slightly. "Right now though, I don't want to wear them."

"Is it a medical condition that keeps you wearing those, or do you simply prefer hiding your emotions?"

"Mostly the second…but who knows. This pair right here, and all the duplicates of it I made a year and some ago. Maybe I have become slightly photosensitive." He shrugged his head. "But…Kwai was more helpful than I thought she would be."

"Then you have made your choice." Tia said quietly. She shook her head, standing up and taking her empty cup to the kitchen. "Somehow, I had a feeling that you wouldn't be staying."

"Would you have wanted me to?"

"No." The woman answered quickly. She put her cup in the sink and turned to face Wycost through the doorframe. "This isn't your life…and as wonderful as you are with the children, you just couldn't manage it. They're looking for a father, Wycost. But you yourself just admitted you can't fulfill that role."

"I can't…what I'm involved in now makes that impossible."

"As I thought. But you were having trouble with it anyhow. That's why you came back here." Tia responded, folding her arms against her supple frame. "You had to make sure."

"Sure of…?" Wycost prodded, lifting an eyebrow.

"Sure that despite your feelings for us, you would still be able to do what the world seems to have forced you and your friends into."

Wycost lowered his head for a moment, then stood up and walked over to stand beside Tia, looking in a different direction.

"You never did tell me...why their father left." Wycost almost mumbled.

Tia looked past Wycost as well, glad that she didn't have to try and control her facial expression for the moment.

"You're right, I never did." She blinked a few more times. "I suppose he just didn't feel that the job was all that important. Nor was his role as husband. Maybe you were expecting that he left against his wishes, that there was a tearful goodbye…that couldn't be farther from the truth. No. One day, I woke up and found him gone, a note on the kitchen counter saying he was leaving and wasn't coming back. He'd found somebody else, he said. This life was dead and he was choosing a new one."

"And now I'm leaving, too." Wycost uttered.

"With you, it's different. At least I know why." Tia turned about and looked at him. "But do you really think you can keep that promise you made…to come back?"

"I can try." Wycost shrugged. "I don't make that many friends. I like to keep in touch with them."

Tia smiled at that. "I told you once before you were always welcome here. That offer still stands. Through whatever storms come, this place can be a shelter for the weary."

Wycost nodded, then turned about and gave her a large hug. "Take care of those kids, Tia." He said, pulling away.

Tia winked at him, a tiny glisten of a tear in her eye. "Take care of yourself." She blinked, then chuckled a bit. "And tell your friend to relax. Despite what she thinks, not all humans are evil."

Wycost blinked in surprise a few times as Tia gave him a kiss on the cheek, then walked back to go to bed. "Turn the light off on your way out, Wycost. And sweet dreams."

When Tia's bedroom door shut, Wycost went back into the kitchen and put his own cup into the sink. Then he turned over to the open window, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stared out at the Hong Kong night lights.

"You know, it's not nice to eavesdrop on people, no matter how good at it you are." He said calmly.

"I don't suppose it would surprise you in the least if I told you that I monitored some of your phone conversations with her." Willow replied gruffly.

"So that's how you kept up with me." Wycost snapped back, not looking towards Willow, who hung from the outer wall of the apartment building with her arms gripping the cement beside her and her knees scrunched up against her chest. "And all this time, I thought you operated under a genuine sense of knowing where Bristol's trail was."

"We'd all love to have a psychic point out the way for us, but most of us don't have that luxury." Willow retorted. She let go of the wall and fell towards the ground, landing with a slight stumble before righting herself.

Wycost turned about and turned off the apartment's lights, then jumped out of the window in one clean swan dive. Just before impacting the ground beside Willow, he flipped himself in midair and landed with his feet flat on the ground, stooping on his haunches a bit to absorb the impact. Unlike Willow, he came up to his feet much easier.

The Irish Banshee said little, but strolled along, letting Wycost keep pace with her.

"Your repairs haven't quite settled in yet, have they?" Wycost queried.

"Not really." Willow admitted brusquely. "Noticed my fall, I take it."

"Hard to miss, when you're as old as I am." Wycost shrugged.

"How old are you exactly?"

"I've been operational since December 28th, 2117." Wycost replied easily.

Willow whistled. "Ye be ancient, laddie."

"Don't rub it in." Wycost groused, pulling his leather jacket tighter around his body as a chill wind blew by. "It's getting colder. Strange, seeing as it's nearly July."

Willow said nothing back to that, choosing instead to summon forth a blue overcoat and drape it over her shoulders.

"Just what brought you to her in the first place?" Willow asked suspiciously. Wycost tilted his head towards her, and she looked back with a no-nonsense gaze.

"She was being mugged. I stopped it." Wycost replied. "Just a matter of me being in the neighborhood at the right time."

"You save total strangers often?" Willow snorted, turning to stare ahead.

Wycost rolled his eyes as his boots made contact with the pavement. "Right. Next you'll tell me that I'm stupid because those muggings might be rigged to take out would-be heroes."

"Close enough…though you don't catch me as a hero type."

"What makes you say that?"

"You avoid the spotlight…and though I'm not one to run a full background check on you, I'd wager you've been like that long before I was activated."

"And when were you born?"

"Sometime in October of 2127."

"Just before the Third Maverick Uprising." Wycost added.

"Aye." Willow acknowledged. "You seem to trust humans more than I do."

Wycost chuckled a bit. "All the humans I've known well in my life have been decent people…or at least, too worried about their own short and insignificant affairs to throw more than two cents of trouble my way."

"It helps when they're not trying to kill you." Willow shot back.

Wycost's smile faded over the next ten steps. Willow's tiny bit of good humor also died.

"You and I come from two different worlds." Wycost finally said, his voice close to a whisper. "But because of Bristol, those worlds collided. She left yours when she lost her memory, and became a part of Bastion's life, and for a short time, a small player in my world. But she came back to it…and because of that, dragged me and everybody else along for the ride."

"I know that." Willow retorted. "So why repeat it, then? Are ye trying to make me feel guilty?"

"Hardly. But there are some days you wouldn't know a supportive conversation if it came up and bit you in the ass." Wycost shot back just as quickly. Willow's eyes flared for a moment, but she held her tongue in check, waiting for him to continue. "What I was getting around to saying was that we ended up working on the same side. And I'd like to think that somewhere underneath that gruff exterior, there's a part of you that still resonates with who you were when you were first activated."

"Why would you say that?"

"I speak from experience, mainly." Wycost answered slowly. "I'll be completely honest with you, Willow. I left the Maverick Hunters because I was tired of being one. I was infected twice with the Maverick Virus in my life…both when I was involved with the Hunters. And back then, and even a little bit now, I was nothing but gruff. I suppose I didn't want anybody getting in, seeing me for what I was. The notion scared me. But you can't do that, Willow. Eventually…I had to let somebody in. Eventually, I got to the point I could let anybody in."

Wycost glanced at Willow, looking for some response. She pursed her lips for a long moment before replying, keeping her eyes forward as they walked.

"That woman back there…do you love her?"

Wycost blinked. "Pardon?"

"Do ye love her. It's a simple question." Willow spoke in a curt, defensive tone, nearly biting into him.

Wycost shrugged his shoulders. "I care for her. But no…I don't love her, not in the way you're probably thinking. I care for her, and I care for those kids. I care about what's going to happen to them, and I like to know that they'll be all right." He sighed. "That's why I came here tonight."

"To make sure they'd be all right?"

"What Bristol wants us to do…that's a huge step. And if I did join with her, I'd be severing a lot of ties, and not keeping as current on others. Throughout my search for Bristol, I could rely on Tia to be there for me. I wanted to know…if I did choose to follow Bristol on this quest to keep the heat on MI9…if they'd be all right."

"It seems to me that you came here to ask for permission to do something else." Willow noted drily.

"And what would that be??"

"It seems to me…you came here to see if they would let you leave." Willow continued. "Tell me that isn't at least, in some way the truth of it."

Wycost's eyes twinkled with a hint of mirth. "All right, fine. You got me. So I came here to announce my retirement from another field of duty."

Willow blinked. "So you have made your decision, then."

"I guess I have." Wycost nodded. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to stick by Bristol and Bastion. Hell, they need me."

"You're certainly self-assured." Willow said, rolling her eyes.

Wycost shrugged his shoulders. "So what about you, then?? Have you made a decision?"

"I never had one." Willow pointed out bitterly. "You and the others…you becoming involved with this mess was all your decision. I haven't had a choice in where life takes me in years…No, I've never had that choice at all."

"It seems to me you have one right now." Wycost answered. His eyes dimmed a bit, a twinge which Willow picked up in the corner of her sight. "Ice Beacon is gone, so is the UBF. Their grand plan to cause the extinction of all reploids has been shut dead in its tracks, and their pet project, the 'Enhanced Humans' have been proven to be not as effective as they once thought…at least, not when put up against freaks like us who have spent our lives dueling to doom. And you said it yourself back on Horn's island…the only reason that you didn't stay in hiding was because of Bristol. Well, she's safe now. MI9, though still a threat, isn't as poisonous. You're off the hook, Willow. If you feel that you don't have a choice, it's because you've gone so long without one that you don't know what a choice feels like."

Willow brushed her hair back. "That may be. But what do ye say to obligation?"

"Obligation is a construct of your mind, a self-made oath of fealty. I had an obligation to MSWAT; I lost that after I was infected at the beginning of the Fifth Maverick Uprising. I had an obligation to the Maverick Hunters after that; that ended when I was passed over for promotion, and I realized how pointless my life was there."

"So now what do you hold obligation to?"

"You're trying to catch me." Wycost said with a small smile. "It won't work, I'm afraid. No, helping out Bristol and Bastion with the fight against MI9 isn't obligation either; it's a choice." He tilted his head towards Willow. "But I doubt that's how you see it."

Willow remained as quiet as ever, not even giving Wycost a glance.

"Tell me about this Jowers fellow." Wycost said, tired of the silence.

Willow's head jerked a bit, and she turned to glance at him questioningly.

Wycost shrugged at her. "Before I pulled you out of there, Bristol told me that you two had been fighting each other…I assume he was the human impaled on the wall, right?"

"Aye." Willow finally replied, chewing on her lip. "That he was. But he's dead now."

"How bad was he?"

"The worst." Willow spat. "In terms of combat, one of the best. As far as Enhanced humans go, one of the first."

"That's a lot of definitions for a guy you once loved." Wycost prodded.

Willow recoiled from the Bronx Bomber as if she'd been slapped. She even stopped walking, turning to stare at him in stunned horror.

"Bristol talks too much." She mumbled, trying feebly to regain her composure.

Wycost kept his face deadpan. "Bristol only told me that you had nothing left to live for but your vengeance. She didn't tell me the details. I just figured those out." Willow turned away. "You told me at Ice Beacon when I was saving you that one day we'd swap stories. So spill it."

"You had to pick today to bring this up…" Willow muttered as a question.

"There isn't a better day." Wycost shrugged. "Knowing the two of us, and our habits for disappearing, now's as good a time as any."

Willow sighed and tucked her hands into her pockets, starting to walk again. "Yes, a long time ago, Jowers and I were in a relationship. It started to turn sour after 2129, the Repliforce Incident. Finally, even that was gone. He transformed from my lover into my stalker…my would-be murderer. I opened myself up completely to him. And in the end, he betrayed me in every way imaginable."

"So now it comes out." Wycost nodded.

"What does?"

"Why you're so grouchy all the time." Wycost replied gently. "It's a wall…an emotional barrier you put up afterwards so nobody could ever hurt you that way again."

"Can you blame me?"

"No." Wycost admitted, shaking his head. "I can't." He stared towards her. "At the same time…he's dead, Willow. You don't have to let his shadow overwhelm your life. You don't have to live secluded from the world."

"Now I know you're speaking from experience again." Willow retorted. "You can't trust people, Wycost. In the end, they'll always let you down."

Wycost shut his eyes for a moment, tired of ramming into Willow's defensive shielding time and time again. Exasperated, he took a quick step in front of her and set his hand on her shoulder, stopping her gait.

"If you can't trust people, Willow, if they always fail you in the end…"

He let his brown eyes peer into her green ones with complete openness.

"Then why did I save you from a frozen grave?"

Seconds ticked by, and people walked past them, staring at the two for only a moment before reverting to their own lives.

Willow finally lowered her head ashamedly, shaking it.

"I don't know why."

"I did it because no matter how frustrated you make me, I give enough of a damn about you to worry about your welfare." Wycost continued, squeezing her shoulder gently. "According to your despondent theory about people in the world, that doesn't exist…but it does nonetheless. Willow, some people will fail you, but others will always be there when you need them. I just wish you would accept that, and move on."

"Right." Willow snorted. "Why do you give a damn about me anyhow, Wycost? Some testosterone laden fancy for the lithe Irish damsel?"

"Oh, there is no way I'm going to let you lead me into that trap." Wycost said, rolling his eyes. "I did it because despite your aggravating attempts at seclusion, there's a part of you that still ticks with some decency. It was that decency that caused you to go after Bristol in the first place, and it was that decency that made you stay with her."

"You're really playing up this angle, aren't you?" Willow snapped back, pushing his hand off of her.

Wycost's frustration finally bubbled over.

"Fine. Fuck you. Is that what you wanna hear, Willow?"

"At least it's HONEST." She spat acidulously.

"You want honest, that isn't honest! Honest is the fact that I've given you every extension imaginable. I could have killed you in that Alaskan forest when you fought those Enhanced humans, but I gave you that benefit of the doubt. I could have left you to DIE there, but I chose instead to drag your sorry unworthy carcass to Horn's hidden tropical island for repairs, which was eventually destroyed because of your Goddamn MESS. I could have let you wander into MI9 HQ alone and without help, but I even put my own life on the line, not once, but TWICE, because I felt that what you and Bristol were trying to do was WORTH DOING. And at the end of the mission, I could have let you rot and die a SECOND TIME, but I saved you from that glacial mausoleum because I CARED about you. And if after all that, if after all of my patience, all of my attempts to break through and show you that there's something decent in this world worth saving, worth fighting for, and you still don't get it, then FUCK YOU. Go ahead, hide in your little world and be alone for all I fucking care. If that's the way you want to be, then maybe I am a damned fool for trying to be nice, for trying to care about somebody else besides myself. I'll take a page from your book, and let the world go to shit because I've got ISSUES, and nobody understands the pains I've gone through. No, it's not like I haven't seen so many friends and partners die beside me that I haven't been given the opportunity to become a soulless assassin. Because I'm a poor little lost soul, FEEL SORRY FOR ME!!" Wycost's face turned red as he finished, and he twirled about, storming off with the heated funk literally rising from his head.

Willow stood there, stunned at Wycost's outburst. It took half of a second for her to remember what had been said earlier that day.

"But trust is what you must build." The woman answered back. "You may not know how, and you may be afraid that you'll be shunned again…but if you live a sheltered life, and hide in that fear driven shell of animosity you've built up, you will never recover that which is most precious to you."

"In other words…"

"You need to take a chance." The woman finished with a smile.

For the first time that day, Willow felt like a complete heel. She lowered her head, biting her lip again. "Damnit."

Wycost walked on, his eyes slightly burning and just blurry enough to make him realize that he was crying. He began to pay less and less attention to the environment around him, at least until a softer, familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"I'm sorry."

He stopped walking, but didn't turn.

"I'm sorry, Wycost. You were right…Right about everything."

"So what's making you say this now, Willow?" Wycost asked glaringly, not willing to turn around and show the cold and bitter Irish Banshee his pain. "What are you trying to get out of this now? Pity??"

"You've given enough already." She answered back, her voice hurt. "And I'm not trying…to get anything this time. I was acting like a damned fool back there, I'll admit it. But…Oh, Hell."

She sighed in exasperation, walking towards him. "There's nothing wrong with you. It's me, laddie. After all I've been through, you can't expect me to change overnight."

"I know that." Wycost replied softly, nearly sensing her position behind him. "And I'm not asking you to. But after all I've shown you, all the leeway and budge, you are still as cruel to me as ever."

"Aye." Willow mumbled sadly. She walked up, hovering two steps behind him. "You don't deserve it. You don't deserve the backwash from my problems."

"I tried to help you with your problems." Wycost countered, blinking his eyes to clear away the tears. "I don't deserve them…but you don't deserve the pain either, Willow. Not anymore."

"Nobody can take my pain from me, you know." Willow answered quietly. "To do that…would be to change me. I don't want my pain, but I can't forget it. My pain cannot be taken."

"I never asked to take it." Wycost replied, turning about and looking at Willow. For all the gruffness in his voice, the wet sheen of tears running from his optics spoke volumes more of his true pain. "I just…wanted to share it."

Willow looked at him, meeting his open and barrierless stare with her own defenses lowered. "Why? Wycost, why would you want to share my pain?"

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because…I never want to see that look of grief on your face ever again." Wycost finally answered. Slowly, he raised a hand up and brushed her cheek with his index finger. It was then that Willow realized she too had been crying. "Because when I do see that look, it kills me."

Willow reached her hand up and grasped his, no longer the secluded rebel. "I wasn't always like this, you know." She said quietly.

"I know."

"I'm a monster now…what I've become, the lives I've taken, even if they were dark ones, that stain can never be removed."

"I have my skeletons too."

"But how can you accept me, Wycost? Why would you do all this for me??"

"You don't know?" Wycost asked sadly. He pulled his hand back, staring at her with a hurt expression.

Willow could tell her lower lip was quivering, but she didn't care. Her hand fell into her pocket, fingering a precious object, rolling it around as she weighed her options.

At long last, she pulled them out, folding them straight. In a slow and deliberate motion, she placed the sunglasses she had received at Ice Beacon over Wycost's eyes, once again shielding him from the night and her own stare.

"You can wear these again, Wycost." She answered finally. Her own watery green eyes sparkled in the dim light of the street lamps. "I now know why you did the things you did."

In another motion that left Wycost surprised, but with a heart ready to burst in relief, she took the final steps towards him and leaned her head on his shoulder, embracing him in a hug. "I trust you, Wycost. And if you're going to follow Bristol on this quest of hers…Then take me with you."

Behind his glasses, Wycost shed a fresh set of tears. He leaned into her embrace, returning it with a tender one of his own.

"Just give it a chance, Willow. Not just for yourself…but for me."

Take a chance…

Willow sniffled a bit. "I don't want to be alone again."

Wycost ran a hand through her lustrous red hair. "I'm here with you now."

Willow would have found that same, purportedly sweet and innocent action invasive and damaging just a few days before.

Now…

Wycost cradled Willow in the middle of a street content to forget about them.

And Willow never felt safer.

10:06 P.M. Japan Standard Time

New Tokyo, Park District

Allegro felt naked without his familiar weapon within reach. Though he now knew that its origins were dark, he had always felt that he had used it to the best intentions at the time. Reflexively, he reached for it again, just to be sure that the phantom presence he felt at his waist was indeed a phantom presence.

He once again wished he'd been able to keep it…

Eyes blurry, he pulled himself off of the well-lit walking pathway that spiraled around the massive public landscape that had been dropped down and built at New Tokyo's conception. Now it was surrounded with the bustling metropolis, but at one point, Allegro remembered hearing from Horn, it had been on the edge of the city. He settled down on a park bench and gently eased his weight off of his legs, lowering his head and staring down at the grass.

Allegro was thankful that Bastion and Bristol had given them the evening to sort through their affairs. He had no doubt that Bastion would drop everything and follow Bristol into Hell to prevent her from being hurt or lost from him again. Love did that, the reploid assumed. He'd never had it himself, and didn't feel any worse off.

Quickly, he brushed the few loose tears from his eyes that had spread to them.

Heh…guess it still hurts.

In a way, Allegro was still shattered. After Sigma's Sixth, he'd buried his emotions, sought to move on with his life. But somehow, the ghost of Andante never seemed to want to leave him alone, always returning in his stasis naps to gently prod at him. Some people lost their friends to Sigma's wars.

Andante had lost his brother. The same brother who had walked through the fires with him, who had escaped Fluid Ferret's grasp. The same brother who had sacrificed himself…

So the stupid young brother might live a little bit longer.

It hurt not having his weapon there with him, Allegro thought. Not because he expected to be doing any fighting tonight…

But because his beam staff had been one of a pair. The other had belonged to Andante. And now both were gone.

The reploid stared up towards the sky, watching the stars glimmer in the atmospheric disturbances. Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely catch the brief swath of a shooting star as it burned up in the same skies that twinkled suns of systems millions of light years away.

The Universe ticked on at its own pace.

Only the people of Earth thought they were important enough to whine.

Hey bro. Allegro thought to himself, expecting no answer. Andante was dead, there was no changing that. And come on…ghosts weren't real. Even if human ghosts had some founding, reploid ghosts were entirely out of the question.

I guess…I haven't really talked to you in a while. Not like I deserve to, right?

He could imagine Andante sighing at that, shaking his head in that calm and orderly way he always had.

You're damn right I feel guilty. It should have been me who died that night, not you. I was the one who decided to ramp right into their gunsights. I was the hothead. I was the freak you were always chastising for making rash decisions.

Another protest from Andante; Allegro shook his head.

It's not all right. It'll never be all right. You're dead, bro. You're dead because you saved me. Allegro let his neck return to a normal posture, staring across the lake that stood in the center of the park. I can't ask for your forgiveness, and even if you offered it to me, I still would have trouble accepting it…

The gentle nudge of Andante's presence gave comfort, reason as to why Allegro's perception was wrong.

Yeah, so I helped to save the world…Mega Man X and the Hunters have done it how many times by now? Do they ever receive forgiveness for the deaths on their hands?

Andante chuckled a bit.

Oh, don't give me that 'forgiveness comes in many forms' bull. Allegro replied back wearily. If that was the case, I'd look for my penance in a Cracker Jack box.

Andante sighed, shot out a rash question.

I don't know. Allegro answered. I feel good about what I did…But it isn't enough.

Silence.

Back when we were fighting Ice Beacon…I asked if you could forgive me.

Andante snorted.

Yeah, you've been trying to. But it's not just your forgiveness I need now.

A puzzled query.

Exactly. You may be able to forgive me for my sins, but I'm less forgiving a soul. I suppose…I didn't want to clear things up tonight. If anything, I guess I was asking permission to clutter things up even more.

A sage nod of his head.

The darkness hasn't been stopped yet…and even though I didn't want to believe it, there's something else besides Sigma that the reploid race needs to be protected from. Andante, if you were still here…what would you have done??

There was a few moments of pause as Allegro thought about Andante's response, what his brother would have said. And it came…as evident as ever.

Yeah…I kind of agree. You would have done the right thing.

Allegro picked himself up and started walking again, a gentler smile on his face.

Some day, Andante…I can finally let your memory rest in peace, and think like this myself. And the more I look at it, I can tell that that day is only coming closer.

Nobody gave Allegro a second look as he calmly strolled out of the walking park and back into the bustle of New Tokyo's nightlife. Which served him just fine.

Things were simpler when you were just another face in the crowd.

MHHQ Data Access Library

10:17 P.M.

Horn pushed the stop button on the data projection screen; somehow, watching reruns of the news broadcast where the GDC had been announced as disbanded wasn't doing shit for his mood any.

"Last call." Boomed the librarian from behind his desk. Horn looked up and around the facility, frowning. Aside from himself and the librarian, a slightly nerdy looking humanoid class reploid, it was empty. He looked over towards the librarian with a quizzical stare.

"Whaddya mean last call?"

"As in, it's time for me to close this place up." The librarian answered back patiently. "And you've been in here for hours just looking through old records, though for the life of me I can't place why."

"It's probably for the best." Horn finally admitted, picking up the viewer screen and the video discs and walking back towards the counter. "But thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Horn." The librarian replied, reaching for the materials. He got another quizzical gaze from the weapons developer, which prompted a shrugging addition. "I'm a librarian, sir. Staring at the news is about the most interesting thing to do, when I'm not cataloguing new entries."

Horn nodded in reply, then turned and walked out of the library, his lab coat flung over his shoulder.

Somehow, he couldn't help but smirk at the situation. He never would have thought that of all the possibilities and permutations reality could have taken, it would have gone the way it did.

"Horn, you're getting deluded in your old age." The elder reploid groused to himself, stepping outside of the building's glass doors and into the cool night air. "Reality never works out like you think it will, and you should have never thought different."

I resigned from the Israeli Coalition, survived a legend of the Islamic Jihad's reploid forces, and created URFAWP, a group that'd one day get the ever loving shit beat out of it.

He strolled along the concrete pathways that guided the residents of the MHHQ from one building to the next, his head staring up towards the sky.

Of course, with all your money, setting up your place of residence on an uncharted island was no sweat. Not like that did you any good…you ended up destroying it with those scuttling charges you put in back when you first had it built.

Horn sighed, looking ahead.

URFAWP was supposed to be the new age equivalent of the Peace Corps, without the sting of being connected to the U.S. and their imperial policies. Not like that did you any good…Sigma and the Mavericks claimed it as their own without a second thought. URFAWP was disbanded by order of the GDC, just like so many other failed attempts throughout our races' short history. Repliforce wasn't the first…and URFAWP won't be the last.

Horn frowned at the noticeable chill in the air, shrugging again before slipping his lab coat back on. The thick white fabric gave him another layer of protection against the cold, not something he needed, but something that he wanted.

Funny…I should find myself wearing this accursed thing again. For some, the lab coat is a sign of benevolence, of science put to good ends. Nearly every photograph of Dr. Light from the late 21st Century has him wearing his white smock. Yet…Wily wore one as well, and God knows how many other scientists throughout history have worn the same thing, and created only destruction in their wake. Horn closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them sadly. I put this thing away when I created URFAWP. And I put it back on afterwards…when my dream was gone, and I could only fight to preserve what little sanity was left here. I told Cain…that I would be creating some technological marvels for him and the Hunters. Despite Doan's Archangel Flight Armor, I don't think I've done much to uphold that promise. Though how much of that was a promise, and how much was just my personal vendetta is hard to keep clear now.

"Out late, I see." A voice called out from beside the aging engineering reploid. Horn jerked his head up, startled from the sudden call. Walking slightly behind him, the reploid Commander Signas seemed in unusually stable spirits, his arms held behind his back as he calmly strolled after Horn. "Strange, though…I have no idea why you would remain here, Professor Horn."

"Professor?" Horn chuckled, shaking his head. "Nobody's ever called me that before. But as to your inferred question…I'm just taking a walk. Does that bother you?"

"You have proven yourself to be a man above reproach, according to the records of Sigma's Sixth." Signas replied tonelessly. "Your presence here is not bothersome."

"Glad to hear it." Horn answered back, shaking his head and turning forward. "I know a couple of people here who would get awful upset if I wasn't here tomorrow." He pulled his hands out of his pockets, flexing them. "But I didn't expect to see you out here. What brings you out of the caves of the MHHQ at this time of night, Signas?"

"I felt…a need to clear my head." The new leader of the Maverick Hunters said after a pause. "Certain issues have appeared…that require a deeper level of thought."

"Thought shouldn't be something that you should have a problem with." Horn said amusedly. "Your system specs…"

"Don't bring emotions into the equation." Signas interrupted calmly. He looked at Horn with blank eyes. "For once, I am being forced to."

Horn gave him a puzzled stare, then as realization hit, a knowing nod. "The GDC is pressing demands on the MHHQ again, aren't they?"

Glumly, Signas nodded. Horn cursed to himself. "Bastards. First Cain bites the bullet and they for…" He stopped himself, but Signas merely shrugged his shoulders.

"You can say it now. They forced me on the Hunters to take Cain's place." The young and highly advanced reploid sighed. "It is odd to think of the GDC as viewing me as little more than their pawn to control this place."

"Oh, it's not that farfetched." Horn shrugged. "From what I've heard from the veterans of this place, the GDC's been trying to get their grubby mitts on the MHHQ since the Second Maverick Uprising drew to a close. Maybe they thought that with Cain dead, it would be easier to impress themselves into the leadership. Funny thing about Cain; he was human. That meant he was able to stand up to all the bullheaded politicians in the GDC who tried to order him around, or tried to cut the MHHQ budget. With Cain gone, who was going to argue for the Hunters then? The Hunters themselves? A bunch of reploids?" The weapons engineer chuckled. "So I take it then that you're feeling trapped between two rocks…the GDC, and the Hunters?"

"Precisely." Signas nodded. "A very astute observation of my problem. I see now why so many consider you to be a genius."

Horn blushed a bit and scratched at the back of his head before speaking up. "I prefer the term mechanically inclined superbuilder." He turned back forward and shuffled his hands back into his pockets. "So what are you going to do then?"

Signas slowly shook his head back and forth. Horn gave him a slow side glance before harrumphing. "I see. Clueless."

"For a change." Signas added dolefully.

Neither reploid said anything for a few moments, letting the inexorable silence guide their paced walk through the MHHQ compound. Horn eventually cleared his throat and shrugged again. "I suppose, Signas, you just have to do what feels right. Not what is right, based on regulations and guidelines and what is politically correct…but what you feel, inside of yourself, to be just and correct."

Signas gave Horn a quizzical glance. "What feels right? That is a remarkably ambiguous statement."

"It's an ambiguous concept as well." Horn shot back. "What feels right…well, it feels different for every person out there. For most of the Maverick Hunters, they do what they do because working here, trying to preserve the world, that feels right to them. Morally, that's their core. What feels right."

"That isn't particularly efficient." Signas replied.

Horn chuckled and shook his head. "No, it isn't efficient. It's human." He lightly punched Signas in the shoulder before turning away. "I hope you can figure out what's right soon, Signas. Believe it or not, you're one of the people who can make or break this place now." He flipped a hand in the air over his back, then strolled on at a faster pace as Signas slowed his own to ponder.

Funny…Signas has never had to use his emotions before in all of his life. The moment he touches this place, though…bam. They're the only guiding force left.

Horn chuckled to himself, leaving the encounter feeling refreshed. He had no worries about Signas, or the MHHQ. This place had seen its tough times before, it could outlive this one just as easily.

And then he froze, realizing that in some small way…

It was his own advice he had been looking for.

He resumed his pace, heading back for the main building of the MHHQ with renewed vigor and an eased mind. Perhaps now he could sleep.

You just have to do…

What feels right.

MHHQ—Cmdr. Bastion's Room

11:24 P.M.

Bastion could hear Bristol stirring underneath the covers of his bed. His hearing had always been remarkably acute, and recent events had done little to remove that.

He stood with one arm pushing the curtain away from the window and the starry New Tokyo glow only kilometers distant, staring out over the fluorescent lights and towards the sky above.

"Come back to bed." He finally heard Bristol utter. Her voice, even when drowsy, sang to him, and he smiled as he let the curtain fall back into place.

Dressed in a loose gym shirt and baggy shorts, Bastion turned back and stared into his room, letting his eyes wander around it.

"Bastion, what are you doing?" Bristol's voice spoke up again, more insistent this time. Slowly, she pushed herself into a half sitting position, blinking her dozy eyes at him from underneath her shocks of wheat colored hair.

Bastion smiled, not knowing if she was awake enough or not to notice. "I'm just remembering."

She yawned, then slipped back down and shut her eyes. "Remembering what?"

"This place…eventually, we'll have to leave. For me, this was home for a long time."

Bristol shifted her position, then sighed again. "Do you regret it?"

"No." Bastion said, finally walking back towards the bed and maneuvering under the covers next to her. "Not for a moment do I regret taking the actions I did."

Bristol curled up next to him, finally beginning to wake up. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his arm and looked up at him with a dozy smile. "I'm glad. Without you…We would have failed."

Bastion pulled her closer, until his face was only inches away from hers. "Without you, my life wouldn't be as fulfilling. I made a promise I would stay by your side. I mean to keep it."

Bristol pushed herself away from him, blinking her clear blue optics in wonder. "No matter what happens? Even if…even if we fail, even if we wander into the fire?"

Bastion smiled back, an honest and gentle smile. "I've gone through flames before, love. At least now, I have you."

Bristol's eyes shone in the pale light of the room, her unshed tears glistening like diamonds. "You're a bloody fool sometimes, you know that?" She croaked softly, slipping into her native British accent.

Bastion kissed her nose and wiped her tears away, smiling still. "And I'm your bloody fool. Bristol, it doesn't matter where you go now, or what happens. I'll be by your side. Because I love you, and nothing is going to change that."

Bristol pushed Bastion back onto the bed, then perched on top of him, running a hand through his thick and unkempt brown hair as she kissed him back.

"You are my Angel in the Desert." She whispered to him, pushing her body as tightly to his as she could.

"And I'll always be watching over you." Bastion replied, before pulling the blankets over them.

They fell asleep after a few minutes more of their kisses and sweet nothings, carried away by a sense of security that had eluded them for what seemed like an eternity…

But which now, felt like it had always been there.

MHHQMemorial Park

1:34 A.M.June 29th, 2131

Iris's grave had been put a fair distance out in the northern section of the MHHQ compound that its inhabitants called the 'Memorial Park'. Freshly dug, Zero could still smell the soil's dank warmth along with the scent of the now wilted roses that he had left at the funeral. Nobody had come out here since then.

"I thought I'd come by again." Zero said quietly, standing in front of the headstone with a dulled look in his eye. His hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and he wore only a pair of dull gray khakis and a T-Shirt for clothing. "Not like I could ever hope to hear you say hello again."

The headstone didn't answer back, nor did the angels engraved on it sing. Zero's eyes dimmed out a little more. "Didn't think so."

Overhead, the clouds began to rumble. The air was already thick with humidity, but the crackles and sparks that bounced between the clouds promised more than pressure on the barometer.

Zero stared numbly at the gravestone for several seconds, occasionally opening his mouth to speak before stopping himself and thinking his next phrase over and over again. Frustrated and emotionally exhausted, he finally let his eyes fill up with tears.

"God, I miss you." He uttered in a hoarse voice. The clouds rumbled in response, and Zero clenched a fist up. He slumped to one knee, his arms falling limply to his sides. "What Sigma did…I can never forgive him for that. What he did to you, what he turned you into…"

The first drop of rain hit the ground just as Zero's own tears began to fall.

"You told me…that because you weren't the original Iris, that you didn't deserve to be loved by me." Zero continued, wiping his blurry optics. "But that wasn't true. Not for a minute. Your personality, your spirit…those couldn't be altered, those couldn't be duplicated. Sigma made a shell and put in whatever bits of data he remembered. But it was the same you. Maybe we reploids do have souls, because you had one, and that soul returned." He slammed his fist on the ground. "Sigma couldn't take that from you…he couldn't make it. You came back to me, and he took you away. And then…"

You died.

"I lost myself, Iris. I went mad. Losing you was losing the last part of myself that was holding me back. And nothing mattered then; not the Maverick Hunters, not X, not the mission or saving innocent lives…nothing mattered but Sigma. I wanted him dead. It felt natural…it felt good, it felt safe. As I fought him, I could feel myself slipping into that state…that point of rage where the battle lost all meaning except to cause pain, to exact horrible vengeance on whoever was in front of me. And I didn't care."

Weakened, Zero slumped to his knees. "I didn't care. I've fought against those urges for years…the urges that my father gave to me, that the thing inside of me screamed for. Sigma had killed you. The woman that…That I loved."

It sounds stupid, I know that's what you're thinking…That I should lose myself over a woman.

"Somehow, I stopped myself. But by then, I had killed him. More than that, even…I had slaughtered him. There was nothing left of him."

I was such a mess…

"I can still feel it there, Iris. It never did leave me, no matter how weakened it had become. And now, now that I know it's there, now that I've lost to it, it's begun to grow again. The last time I fought it off, I had X's help and your strength as well to guide me."

But I don't have you now.

The raindrops began to fall heavier now, saturating the ground with their moisture.

"I'm afraid of what I'm turning into, Iris." Zero said, choking out his own tears. "I don't know how I can face it now. With you gone…"

Gods, Iris…Why did you have to die??

"I need you!" Zero cried out, slamming his fist on the ground. "I need you to tell me that everything's going to be all right, that you're still waiting for me!"

A loud crash of thunder rumbled through the early morning air, and the flickering of lightning cast shadows all around him. But no answer came from Iris's grave, which remained stonily silent. Zero could only cry, shutting his eyes against the tide which didn't stop.

"She's not coming back." A quiet voice said. Zero choked out another sob, barely registering the new presence. "It's killing you inside, but you have to know by now that she isn't coming back."

"How would you know what I'm going through?!" Zero screamed, slamming his fist on the ground.

X chewed at his lower lip. "I don't know. That's the deal. I don't know what you're going through, and I can't begin to fathom those depths."

Zero said nothing, choosing to just lie like a beaten dog.

"But just because I'm not you…doesn't mean I don't care about you." X finally added, his voice barely audible.

Zero turned around at that, looking at X with tearstained eyes. "What?"

"You heard me, stupid." X said, looking at Zero with his own pain rising to the surface. "I give a damn what happens to you, all right?"

"But…the Virus…what I did to Sigma, what it wanted me to do to you…" Zero almost spasmed in his depression. "I was a monster!"

"You didn't scare me because of that." X replied calmly, walking beside Zero and kneeling down beside his friend. He wiped what might have been a tear and not a raindrop from the corner of his eye. "God, we've been through our hard times. I didn't know what to think when I found you there in Sigma's base. But I wasn't frightened of you. I was frightened of how you felt."

Zero looked at X, not saying anything.

"I'd never seen you so messed up. How you had acted before was odd enough, but…I've never seen you lose it like that. And it's not what you did that scared me. It's that you could feel that alone, that secluded."

X glared at Zero, his tears now apparent even beyond the rain. "Damnit, Zero, I've always been there for you. You've always watched my back. But for you to just…to just think that all of a sudden, you were alone in this world, to watch you tear yourself apart like that, it ate at me." X's breath became shallower then, continuing. "I didn't know what to say to you then. Yes, Iris was dead. Cain was dead. Hazil was leaving. But I was STILL HERE. And you had forgotten that, you didn't CARE. I avoided you because I didn't have a way to come at you. Somehow, we've always known what to say to each other, how to cheer each other up. But back there, I didn't. I didn't know what to do, because you had separated yourself from me."

"You can't trust me anymore…the Virus…it's still in me, X, it never left…"

"I don't CARE if the fucking Virus is in you!!" X screamed at Zero, his cerulean green eyes shining hotly. "Don't say that I can't trust you, don't run from me! You're all that I have left now, Zero! I'm all that you have left! And no matter what happens, I know that you could never truly hurt me!! So why then are you running? Do you WANT to be alone??"

Numbly, Zero shook his head. "I don't want that."

X nodded, calming down. "Iris wouldn't have wanted that either." He said, brushing the tears out of his eyes with a sleeve. "Maybe there are some things about you I don't know. And I can never be as close to you as Iris was. But I'm your friend, Zero. I care about you, I care what happens to you. And I need you here. Mourn for the dead, but don't wish to join them yet."

Zero laughed a bit, smiling weakly. "I'm not leaving you yet…not if you're still willing to put up with me?"

"You're a selfish bastard sometimes, you know that?" X chortled back, pulling Zero into a tight hug.

The two just knelt there by Iris's grave, hugging each other in a silent confirmation of renewed friendship.

"I was so scared…" Zero whispered, not sure if he meant to say it to X or Iris anymore.

"You don't have to be." X replied, sniffing back a few remaining motes of self-pity. "We're gonna get through this. Like we always do, we're gonna get through this. And one of these days, we're gonna get that sick sonofabitch Sigma and we'll bury his carcass. And then Cain and Iris and all the others who've died on our watch can rest peacefully."

Zero pulled himself away from X and nodded, standing up. X followed suit, seeming unperturbed and overly relieved.

"I thought I'd lost you." Zero admitted quietly.

X punched him in the arm and grinned, just like he had done so many times before in all their years before. "As long as you're around, I'm around. You're not losing me that easily, kid." Zero smiled back for a moment, then let it fade as he stared at Iris' grave once more.

The rain began to slow down finally, becoming a light drizzle at most.

"I loved her."

"I know you did."

"That's what set me off…that Sigma could be so cruel, so…"

"I know."

"Nothing mattered then. Not you, or the Hunters, or the other Mavericks. It was just him and me. I wanted to kill him. And I could feel it there, it wanted the same thing I did."

"So you gave into it?"

"…yes."

"So how did you stop?"

"It wanted me to kill you again."

X smiled a bit at that. "Persistent, isn't it?"

"I guess dad knew what he wanted. Too bad I keep disappointing him."

"And now?"

"It's still there…but I fought it off then. It might get harder as time goes along, but…if you're willing to stay by my side…"

"I'm not running from you. As long as you remember that, remember that I'm here, you don't have to worry about losing to it. That requires losing hope…and you only lost it for a little while."

He gave Zero one final pat on the back, then pulled a bouquet of roses from behind his back and held them in front of him. Zero offered a quizzical glance, forcing X to shrug. "I'm going to leave you alone for a while…but tell her I said hi."

X gave Zero one last knowing smile before turning around and walking back into the quiet of the night.

At last, the rain stopped.

Slowly, Zero turned back towards Iris' gravestone, holding X's parting gift loosely in his hand. The rain died down, and a low gust of wind blew by, sending his hair up beside his now soothed and comforted face.

"It wasn't the answer I was waiting for…But you sent me a message anyways." Zero murmured quietly, brushing his hair back. "You know just as well as I do I won't forget you…And I won't stop missing you. But I get the point."

He stared at the bouquet of roses, smiling for a bit. He'd figure out some way to thank X for this later…thank him for the roses, and then some.

You can't curl up and die just yet, Zero. There's still things left to be done…and when you finish up, she'll be waiting for you. Trust in that, and get your ass in gear.

Zero reverently set the new roses down on Iris' grave, removing the wilted ones. He stared at them for a moment longer, then smiled and brushed one final tear from his eye.

"It isn't a perfect life…I suppose there really isn't such a thing, not for us. But I'm not alone, and neither are you. And as long as we have that…"

Zero kissed his fingertips, then set them on the gravestone, still smiling.

Then we can keep on going.

Zero stood up and turned around, walking back towards the main base and towards sleep as well. The last of his tears were gone, and he strolled with newfound confidence.

He knew that it wouldn't be easy, moving past it all. He knew he would never forget Iris, and that some nights, that loneliness would get to him.

He knew that no matter how hard he had tried, the Virus had never truly left him, and he had been unable to purge it. He knew that whenever he fought, he would have to deal with that compulsion, that rising instinct that sang to him with the sweet smell of blood and red vision.

But he knew that he wasn't alone. With X on Earth and Iris in heaven, and Cain smiling wherever he'd landed, Zero wasn't alone. With help both physical and intangible, but still all important, he would continue to walk this Earth.

He wasn't a demon now. He certainly wasn't a saint, either. He was somewhere in between, the road left to him now.

In the end, Zero thought to himself as he strolled along, it was still his life. He still had to live it. Until Sigma was at last gone, never to revive, never to carry the other half of Wily's legacy, he still had a purpose.

It wasn't much of a life to think of, it wasn't all that optimistic. But it was his.

Tomorrow, he'd let the woes of the world hit him.

Tonight…

He passed by the guard at the door to the central building of the MHHQ, giving a small salute as he did. The guard returned it, albeit haphazardly.

Zero walked in through the hydraulic doors and vanished into the corridors that had been his home for many years, and would continue to remain so.

The guard resumed his post, shaking his head for a few moments before restoring his placid indifference.

He'd never seen such a contented look on Zero's face before. It frightened him at first…

But the more he thought about it, the more he thought that it just seemed right.

Hope had returned.

And hope would live.

Maverick Hunter Headquarters-Secure Conference Room #2

June 29th, 2131

9:30 A.M. Japan Standard Time

It was an odd assembly that poured into the MHHQ's second secure conference room, built for the highest level of clandestine affairs to take place within the facility's walls. Hazil had to think to himself with some level of good humor that Cain really wouldn't have cared that they were here. Frankly, if the old coot had still been around, he might have even supported their efforts at Ice Beacon.

Bristol sat at the front of the room, sitting down with an apprehensive look on her face. Bastion sat beside her, a soothing presence to what had to be overwhelming nervousness. The Desert Angel occasionally glanced at her out of the side of his eye, not a noticeable glance, but enough that Hazil, who had spent years figuring people out, could pick up on it. Willow sat looking nonchalantly at the ceiling, her arms folded as she propped her legs up on the table across from Bastion, close to Bristol as well. Wycost stood over in a corner, his arms folded as well, but with his sunglasses worn in a way that blocked out the dim light of the room and left Hazil with only the image of the Bronx Bomber staring down at the floor. Hazil noticed a similar relaxation in his posture, something he seemed to share with Willow. He cocked an eyebrow at them for a brief moment, but said nothing, pushing aside his nagging doubts.

Horn sat at the other end of the long rounded rectangular table, holding his own thoughts in check for the moment. Still, Hazil saw that even he found an activity to keep himself occupied, pushing buttons furiously on the datapadd in his left hand. Occasionally, the retired Israeli weapons engineer would look up and glance about the room with a puzzling half smile before returning his gaze to the thin screen in his possession.

Allegro was present as well, sitting in his chair properly, occasionally glancing up, looking interested, but not nearly as worried as Bristol.

Even more of a surprise in the room, Pharaoh Man had returned no worse for wear, and with an elderly human female accompanying him. As far as robots could look, the goldenrod and silver colored robot seemed almost optimistic, a whimsical smile half hidden behind his facemask. The two sat beside each other, the woman looking a little sleepy, but alert.

Doan was the last person to stroll into the room, and he also seemed the most out of place. Hazil gave him a once-over before realizing why. It saddened him a bit, but then again, he couldn't really blame Doan for his decision.

"I see that almost everyone is here again." Bastion finally announced. He looked over at Doan. "Where's Cleo?"

Doan shook his head. "Had other things to see to…like I do." He looked around the room with a quick glance, stopping at Wycost near the end. The Bronx Bomber lifted his face up and gave a long look at his old associate.

"So…I take it you've decided to stay then." Wycost surmised easily. Doan nodded.

"I know that what we did at Ice Beacon was vital. And I understand that you all feel that you have to continue this. But in my heart, I'm a Maverick Hunter. My place is here now." He paused for a moment, then managed a weak half smile. "Besides. Once you leave, somebody has to make sure that things still get done like they need to."

The room looked at Doan with a multitude of stares. Indifference by some, knowing, but sad stares from others, and in the case of Wycost, a brief nod of his head before he turned his head to the side and never looked back.

It was Wycost's quiet that hurt him the most. Then again, Wycost was like that sometimes, Doan reminded himself. He just absorbed some things, tried not to show it. The Bronx Bomber usually failed in the second regard, but he'd never stopped trying.

"We can't blame you for following your heart." Bristol said after a few moments, smiling quietly. "That's why we gave everyone a day to think."

Doan nodded gravely, then cleared his throat. "I hope that whatever happens…you all find some measure of happiness. Lord knows you deserve it."

He turned and walked out of the room, and silence fell on them again.

"It's too bad." Allegro finally mumbled. "I liked working with that guy, he had a lot of spunk." He shook his head. "I guess, though…we all gotta do what we gotta do. Probably for the best that he left now instead of carrying doubts."

"Doubts over what?" Wycost snorted. "From what I've seen so far, we're living in a half-cooked plan to fight a secret crusade against humanity's elite."

Faces looked around the room. Wycost, Willow, Bastion, Bristol, J.K. Horn, Allegro, Pharaoh Man and the elderly woman that sat beside the aged robot.

Enough poignant stares rested on the still attractive human female that Pharaoh Man cleared his throat. "I don't believe I've introduced you to my sister. This is Kalinka Cossack, the biological descendant of Dr. Sergei Cossack. We had to fly all night in order to get here in time." Kalinka nodded her head weakly. To the puzzled stares, Pharaoh Man shrugged. "Kalinka is a normal human. Warp transfer was not an option, and she wished to be here for this."

Horn pursed his lips before speaking, his voice shifting into an almost fluent standard Russian.

"Forgive me for asking this question, dear lady, but why would this conference interest you?"

Kalinka blinked a few times, surprised to hear Russian spoken instead of Japanese or English, the language that had been in use until just now. "Pharaoh Man is my brother. His involvement in this…Ice Beacon and whatever else you all seem to want to do, is of importance to me. Would you let your family wander into danger without your support?"

Horn laughed a bit. "I apologize. Stupid of me to not get it…but to your question, there are very few of us that have families."

After a few moments, Horn recognized the puzzled stares around the room. Switching back to English, he continued. "In any case, we welcome you."

Bristol nodded towards Kalinka and spoke up. "To those that remain here…did you all decide to continue on with what we're doing? MI9 is a very powerful organization…and the actions we intend to take will be difficult ones."

Every face in the room gained a look of finality. And Horn spoke up.

"For myself…I've got nothing else to turn to. URFAWP's extinct, and everything else that I've ever done up to this point has been a waste. I'm a damn good engineer, as much as I wish I wasn't some days. I'm signing on to this crazy mission of yours, Bristol. Me, my talent, and my money." He shook his head. "Something tells me we'll need a bit of it to do this."

Allegro set his hand on Horn's shoulder, staring at his mentor for a moment before looking up to Bristol. "I lost my brother to Mavericks…and I'd like to think that a part of him still remains. Well, that part of him's telling me to do what he and I both know is right. So I'm going with Horn, and I'm going with you. The mission's the same; keep free reploids safe. The stakes have just gotten a bit higher." He paused for a minute, then flashed a grin. "Besides, you still owe me another beam staff from that crazy stunt you pulled at Ice Beacon."

"You're all a bunch of fools, you realize that…" Willow murmured quietly. "Nobody ever asked you to undertake this…but if you're that eager to rush headlong into the lion's den, then there's nothing I can do to convince you otherwise. MI9 is still my problem as well as Bristol's, so for the time being, I'm staying as well." She let her piercing gaze bore across the room like a laser sweep. "Besides, someone needs to be keeping you wee laddies alives." She finished, slipping into her native accent.

"This place has become a Hell of a lot of bittersweet memories to me." Hazil groused. "Sure, we had our good times…but for the most part, the last 13 years here have been nothing if not stressful. I quit my job looking for an escape…but I guess that you guys are still deadset on jumping in front of the gun again." The medical reploid sighed and brushed his graying hair back. "Frackit, you all just live to make me drink. Fine, I'm coming too, wherever there is. Maybe I can keep you all alive long enough for you to finally retire and live on a grassy plain somewhere. I'll be needing that lifestyle eventually."

"I swear, you all need one finishing comment to your speeches." Wycost grumbled, turning to stare up at the ceiling. "Yeah, you've got me too. Frankly, I don't have anything else better to do for now."

Bastion smiled at Wycost's flippant attitude. "Glad to hear it, my friend." He stood up, placing his hand flat on the table. "My Flight Armor was made by this angel sitting before you…and now she wants to go and save the world. I've been a warrior all of my life, sometimes less noble than others. But here, there's a chance to actually do something. And as long as I draw breath, I've made a promise that I'll never leave Bristol's side."

"Oh, you." Bristol mumbled, visibly blushing. She turned towards them all, nodding her head. "Willow is right, though…None of you are under any obligation to continue on this crusade. You can turn back right now, no questions asked."

"Turn back to what?" Wycost said darkly, picking himself up off of the wall. "To the Maverick Hunters? Not hardly. Bastion had to retire, and I wouldn't go back if they paid me five times what they did before. And after all we've done, do you really think it's possible to go back? I understand we only killed to prevent greater destruction and chaos, but the simple fact is we've become Mavericks, to some degree or another. And things like that just don't fly too well here."

"Well, I suppose that brings up the question then of just where we are going to go." Bastion mused, rubbing at his chin. He looked at Wycost and nodded. "It's not like we're going to be here much longer."

"Well, just what are you all looking for in a place to call home?" Pharaoh Man interjected suddenly, speaking for the first time since he'd introduced his sister. "What sort of qualifications would you like?"

"Distant. Not close to any major cities." Willow replied.

"Someplace that can be defended, that won't fall under enemy attack easily." Bastion added.

"Remote in all senses of the word. A place that MI9 won't think to look for to find us." Wycost noted thoughtfully.

"A place with enough technological equipment and facilities to not only be self sufficient, but also to allow us further research and development. We've got to keep on our toes against these guys." Allegro mentioned quickly, stopping Horn from saying the same thing.

Pharaoh Man sat back, absorbing all of their comments calmly and thoughtfully. When they had all finished, he nodded his head.

"It's not going to be easy finding a place like that these days. The world's a little closer than it was back in my father's time."

The eager faces around the room suddenly became crestfallen at that news. Pharaoh Man could see their eagerness beginning to deflate, and quickly sat upright again.

"However, if you were to locate a facility with all of those qualifications, you would definitely have an easier time in this ongoing war you're planning to hold against MI9." Pharaoh Man said, almost lackadaisical in his phrasing.

Bristol frowned at him, leaning forward in her seat. "What are you getting at, Pharaoh Man?"

"Well, just that a place like what you're looking for does exist. And as far as anybody knows, it's nothing more than a tourist trap, a tiny piece of historical flotsam to be reviewed and forgotten." Pharaoh Man said nonchalantly. "Surely, not a hidden base of a vigilante group fighting a secret underground world coalition."

Hazil blinked a few times before Pharaoh Man's sentence finally sunk in. "Oh, Christ, you mean to tell me that…"

"Pharaoh Man and I had a lengthy discussion about his role in your activities." Kalinka Cossack suddenly announced, folding her arms. "And over time, I have come to trust his judgement implicitly. He has suggested that the legacy of the 'Citadel', as we call it now, is not yet over with. If you are all agreeable to the idea, we would like to extend an invitation to you all…to call our home your own."

There was a general air of stunned silence that hung in the air after that.

"You mean to tell me that…you would be willing to put us up, give us your Citadel as a home and base while we do all this?" Hazil sputtered.

Kalinka shrugged. "Why not?? Besides, my brother here has his heart set on helping you all. At least, if you all come to the Citadel, I can keep an eye on him. And we have everything you'll ever need. Location, facilities, equipment, discretion and availability. If you want to make this work, you're going to need more than a good work ethic and a dream. You're going to need a plausible home. So why not ours?"

Bastion chuckled. "Pharaoh Man, you dog." He sat back down. "Does anybody have any problems with that arrangement?"

Nobody did, of course. Pharaoh Man let an easygoing smile fill his face, and he nodded in agreement. "I promise you, you won't regret this."

"Well, I'm not planning on it." Allegro said lightly. He rubbed his hands together. "So we've all figured out what we're doing. We've all decided that come Hell or high water, we're going through with this. And thanks to Pharaoh Man, the pluckiest robot it's ever been my pleasure to know, we even have a new home. That last entry is very important, considering Horn blew up our last pad."

Horn chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Trust me, I don't do that with all my homes." He said quickly towards a slightly disbelieving Kalinka.

"But here's a question for you all." Allegro continued, unfazed. "Just what the hell are we?"

"A bunch of people trying to do the right thing, I suppose." Wycost grunted. Allegro shook his head.

"No, it's not as easy as that…A name. What are we? We're not Maverick Hunters, and given the nature of our conflict, we can't be called pure Mavericks either, and URFAWP's dead and gone."

"Peacekeepers, maybe?" Hazil suggested. He shook his head. "Nah, screw that…"

"The Avengers?" Bristol queried. Pharaoh Man shook his head. "No can do, that's copyrighted, dearie."

The conversation went on for nearly a minute as people threw suggestions back and forth across the table. But J.K. Horn remained silent, pursing his lips in deep thought before finally clearing his throat.

"I have one." He announced, waiting for everyone else to respond and quiet down. "I admit it's a little unorthodox…but it also has the benefit of being very anonymous."

Bastion nodded his head. "And what did you come up with exactly?"

Horn scratched at his messy mop of gray hair for a few moments more before shrugging. "The Scion's Zenith."

"The what?" Allegro queried, lifting an eyebrow.

"Hold on, I think I get what you're going after." Willow said suddenly, sitting up straight and narrowing her gaze at him. "Though I don't often use words like those. Zenith…the peak, the high point of something. And Scion…isn't that like an offgrowth, or a limb of some sort?"

"A more classic definition might be children, or offspring." Horn said, shrugging his shoulders. "It seemed to make sense to me. We are, in a sense, the children of humanity. And it's all come to this…this high point, this climax. Who we are now, what we're attempting to do…Hell, nothing else comes close. This is the zenith we're living in. The Scion's Zenith."

Bristol had to laugh from the sheer exhilaration of it all. Several puzzled stares glanced down her way as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.

"What's wrong, hon?" Bastion asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing's wrong." Bristol replied easily. "It's just that for a change…everything's right."

She regained her composure and looked at them all, the people who were now her teammates, her comrades…her friends.

"If you had found me five months ago and told me my life would be like it is now, I would have told you that you were crazy. But despite it all, we've survived. Willow and I escaped MI9, and we ran for our lives. I deleted my memories to protect the world, and was rescued by my knight in shining armor, and brought to a castle. And even when those memories came flooding back and everything seemed their darkest, you all came to my rescue again. Even now, now when things could go either way, you remain by me, working to accomplish this miracle. And I fully believe that this time…it's going to work."

She stared around the room, a fresh set of happy tears glistening. "It's actually going to work."

Every person in the room felt that sense of radiant tranquility that the British reploid was emitting, and became strengthened by it. Her optimism, her kindness, her hope all stemmed into one source and poured from it like a fountain.

Their lives would never be the same, they knew that then as they looked at one another. But strangely, none of them cared about that, or about having doubts of the past.

Instead, they found themselves all looking towards a future. A better time, a better place…a better world.

So many of them had walked in silence and loneliness before. But never again would they feel secluded, or alone.

As the Scion's Zenith stood up and shook hands, convinced in their goals and decisions, the world suddenly felt right.

And even the most hardhearted of spirits in those thick walls had to agree…

That this was the way that the world should feel. At peace with itself, and with the people on it.

And they didn't want it any other way.

MHHQ-Doan's Room

June 29th, 2131

10 P.M.

Cleo was working late again, Doan noted calmly. He stared out his window again, towards the phone booth by the side street in the distance.

Of course, this time there was nobody in it. Perhaps for the best.

He let the curtains fall back into place and walked back over to his bed, collapsing on it and finally taking off his helmet. Laying flat, he stared at the ceiling, letting the ticks of his internal clock snap on and off.

And it was then that his phone rang. Quietly, though…the nighttime setting dropped the volume, and Doan had gotten quite used to the silence. Even that small amount jarred him from his comfort.

He reached over and put his helmet back on, accessing his internal controls and routing the incoming transmission to his helmet's vox receiver.

"Doan." He said simply, not knowing who would reply. He had his guesses, of course…

"So I guess this is it." Came the quiet reply.

Doan's eyes dimmed out in the darkness of his room. "I guess it is, Wycost."

Silence followed that. "So all that you said today…did you mean that?"

"This is where I belong." Doan reconfirmed. "My job is here…my purpose is here. And as important as Ice Beacon was…I don't want to be involved in another one, or whatever else would follow."

"So what if MI9 pulls another stunt?" Wycost countered. "What if they make an attack plan that's even worse?"

"I suppose when that time comes, I'll deal with it." Doan said unashamedly. "But I'll deal with it on my terms…and within the boundaries of my duties."

"Damnit, Doan…" Wycost grumbled quietly. "We really could have used you."

"I know. But I wasn't going to push myself into that. You left this place. Bastion and Hazil retired. But me…No, Wycost. I can't leave this place. I can't forget what I am."

"What we did at Ice Beacon and what the Maverick Hunters do are not any different!" Wycost argued.

"Wrong." Doan murmured back. "They are different. Never in my career as a Maverick Hunter have I been forced to kill humans. At Ice Beacon, that is precisely what we did. Wycost, you know as well as I do that even if we succeeded in stopping Armageddon, we've all nonetheless become Mavericks. Argue the term, argue the circumstances…but you know just as well as I do that we killed them in cold blood. And that stain doesn't leave you."

"Geez, Doan, you make it out to sound like we enjoyed killing them."

"No. Not that. But surely it became easier." Doan retorted. "At Ice Beacon, we killed them to prevent world apocalypse. But maybe next time, you might think the best way to solve a hostage situation would be to kill the hostage that the terrorist is holding a gun to, stun the warrior long enough to gun him down. Maybe after that, you begin to see lives…human lives…as expendable towards your objectives. Twice you've been infected with the Maverick Virus, Wycost. Even though you've fought those infections off both times, some scars still remain. And the calling is still there."

Wycost was silent again, even longer this time.

"If I had stayed with you, stayed with the others, I would have gone down that road. And that's one road I'm not willing to take, Wycost. Not even for you, not even for the possible safety of the reploid race. In the end, I'd only end up hurting myself and damaging the reputation of our species. All of you…maybe you feel you can risk that. Maybe you're free enough, independent enough now as you are to try something that crazy. But I'm not, Wycost. What I did at Ice Beacon, the blood I spilled…that scared me. What we did there was right…it's the methods that frightens me. And I'll always end up thinking to myself, there had to have been another way to do that. Surely, we could have accomplished that objective without taking human life."

"And do you think it's any more justified to end the lives of other reploids?" Wycost finally asked. "They're labeled as Mavericks, and we send out the cavalry to gun them down, to hack them into pieces. Sure, some of them need killing. They're too much of a danger to everyone around them, and their objectives are harmful. But do you feel pity for killing a Maverick? What if a group of Mavericks created a device that would cause every human on earth to collapse into pain and convulsions and hallucinations? Would you feel any remorse for doing them in??"

"You're asking me to compare human life to reploid life."

"Shouldn't I?? Shouldn't the both of them be held as equally sacred?"

"It was humanity that made us."

"So now you're saying that we SHOULD be subservient to them."

"Not subservient." Doan muttered, almost beginning to growl. "But not superior, either. It was that attitude that spawned a generation of anarchists and created a need for the Maverick Hunters."

Seconds ticked by in the empty night air.

"I guess we really have drifted apart." Wycost said regretfully.

"Maybe we have."

"You know, it wasn't long ago that you and I would hang out together."

"That was thirteen years ago, Wycost." Doan replied. "That was a different me and a different you."

"How so?"

"I was just a regular reploid, and you were fresh on the beat as an MSWAT officer, or something else in the NYPD. After that…"

"…"

"After that, Wycost…the next I heard of you was that there was this crazy green reploid who was rumored to be an ex-Maverick that had joined up during the Fifth Maverick Uprising. Real tough guy. I had my suspicions…but I knew it was you. And even back then, I'll bet you'd heard some of the rumors about the Ghost Wind. We knew about each other, Wycost. Events dragged us back together, that's all."

"So what are you saying, then?" Wycost asked. "That our rekindled friendship was nothing but convenience?"

Doan bit his tongue at that. He was running out of things to respond with.

"When a human kills a reploid, he's punished with a slap across the wrist. When a reploid kills a human, he's labeled a Maverick, and either killed outright or has his brain wiped completely clear for reassignment, probably to a worse lot in life than he had to begin with."

"Not always." Doan said, his eyes dimming out. "It's not always like that."

"But it's happened enough. I saw it all the time back when I walked the beat, and even in the Maverick Hunters. Even in self-defense, the case of murder against a human by a reploid never is given understanding." Wycost argued.

"What are you trying to justify to me?" Doan countered. "That there's need for social change, or that whatever vigilante activity you and whoever else stayed in that meeting decided to continue is justified?"

"You and I both know that the first has been argued for for a long time. Rarely does anything come out of it." Wycost noted. "As for the second…" His voice trailed off.

Doan shut his eyes and rolled over.

"Skip it." Doan finally replied, his voice cold and ragged. "It isn't a perfect world, Wycost. Do the Maverick Hunters always do the right thing? No. But nobody else does either. We've made our mistakes, we've shed our tears. And we move on."

"I've moved on." Wycost said, quieter than before. "But I don't know if you have."

"An interesting query." Doan noted, rolling flat on his back again. "Wycost, you've always been a little more emotional than I have. Been like that since the day we met in New York. So we look at things differently. We stopped MI9. Ice Beacon is gone. And the world is still running. There's thinking about what's right, and then there's the truth of it. I act with rational thought, and you act on your instincts and your emotions. Never did change."

"I get the feeling you're accusing me."

"You accused me first." Doan retorted. "Wycost, the only person who can tell you how to live your life is yourself. And I'm the only person who knows what's right for me. You think that there's still more to be done. You think that because of how you feel, you can justify your actions. But I can't, Wycost. I did what had to be done. It doesn't change the fact that afterwards, a part of me feels that what I did was wrong. That in some way, I've become that which I've spent my entire LIFE fighting against. Maybe you're comfortable with that. But I'm not, Wycost. And I'm never going to approach that boundary."

"So you'd kill your own kind…but not others of flesh and human blood that would perform similar crimes upon us."

"After all that the Mavericks have done to wrong the world and humanity, maybe they deserve a crack back at us."

"How can you SAY that?!" Wycost barked in shock. "What, fair is fair, is that it?! At least REPLOIDS have the Maverick Hunters, we take care of our own problems!!"

"So then let humanity see to its wayward flocks as well." Doan replied calmly.

More inexorable silence.

"There's nothing I can do to change your mind." Wycost said, half a statement and half an unfinished question.

"No more than I could change yours, I imagine." Doan replied. With dull and resigned eyes, he let out a long sigh. "Wycost, from this point on…we are walking separate roads. I walk mine, believing what I do and continuing to be a Maverick Hunter. And you…well, maybe this place never was truly for you."

"You saying I wasn't good enough?"

"No." Doan replied, eking out a sad smile. "It just wasn't ready for a hotshot like you. Not with your view of the world."

"Do you believe that what I'm planning on doing…what they're planning on doing…that we're wrong, somehow? That we're not working for a positive goal?"

"For as terrible a memory as Ice Beacon is, I can justify that enough to go to sleep at night and not turn myself in. But whatever else you all are planning on doing…don't tell me, and don't get me involved. Here on out, I'm a liability. Because I'll always be a Maverick Hunter first. And God help you all when you finally screw up and appear on our radars."

"My, aren't we friendly." Wycost said with humorous irony. His voice grew very serious after his only chuckle. "Doan, I don't know what exactly putting an end to MI9 will involve. And I can't promise you that we won't be forced to attack Enhanceds again. As much as I'd like to avoid killing them, it may become necessity."

"That's why I couldn't stay with you all."

"Yeah, I know." Wycost acquiesced. "I know."

Doan drew in a slow breath that was almost inaudible. He blinked his eyes once, with all the speed of a snail across a table.

"Do your best, Wycost. And pray for us both that we never have to meet in circumstances beyond whatever level of friendship we have."

"I don't think I could fight you."

"I don't want to think about fighting you." Doan replied tonelessly. The unspoken sentence hung between them, though…both too afraid to announce it.

I don't want you to become my enemy.

"We had some good times, though, didn't we?" Wycost said wistfully.

"Oh, yeah. Sure we did. You got me drunk, and I pulled you out of a coma. I suppose that makes us even."

"Well, I was thinking that that Flight Armor of yours might also be put on the balance…"

"That's something I thank Horn for, not you." Doan answered back. "We both know that for as great of a fighter as you've always thought you are, you couldn't engineer your way out of a paper bag if it didn't involve blowing it up."

"And you couldn't…Oh, fraggit." Wycost sighed, cutting his comeback short. "Doan, for as much as we've both been through, there are some days I wish we could see eye to eye."

"You had your way, I had mine." Doan shrugged. "Maybe it was just luck that we both ended up at MHHQ when we did. And it was nice for a while…to catch up on old times, to hang out together…"

"To fight together like we used to."

"Wycost, the only time I ever was in a firefight with you was just before I left for New Tokyo." Doan replied grimly. "And as you might recall, that was the first time I'd ever killed anybody. That wasn't fun, Wycost, and you know it. Back then, you were just as exhausted over that fight in the department store as I was…and back then, I was just the house servant, and you were the cop. That's why you decided to get me drunk back then."

"…So you're blaming me for how your life turned out?"

"No." Doan said easily. "No, I could never do that. I've had my moments of regret, but I'm still alive. That's what counts."

"So keep yourself alive then." Wycost said shortly. "It seems to be something you're good at."

"Wycost, wait."

He could almost feel how the Bronx Bomber was tensing up on the other end of the line. "I'm not angry with you."

"But you're not exactly proud of me either, is the impression I'm getting."

"I have my doubts, yes." Doan mused, his mind grasping for a response. "But…"

"But what?"

"I have this feeling…that you're doing what you think is right. And I've always trusted you. So do what you need to, you crazy fool. The Wycost I know and trust has always fought for the right thing. And if you're really the same guy who I knew thirteen years ago, then…go."

Wycost bobbed his head, a motion that Doan picked up with the swift displacement of air by Wycost's transceiver. "I'd like to say I'll make you proud…But I suppose that doesn't work. So I'll tell you what, Doan."

"What."

"I'll keep you in my thoughts…and I'll pray that you do the same for me."

"Just walk carefully, Wycost. This is a narrow road that you've chosen…"

"The road less traveled by usually does hold dangers." Wycost responded easily. "But that never stopped either of us before."

"No…I suppose it didn't."

"I'm going to miss you, Doan. You were one of the few people at the MHHQ I gave a damn about."

"The feeling's mutual, bud. Just keep your eyes ahead and your nose clean…For my sake."

"I'll do that." Wycost said wistfully. "And all I ask in return…is that you keep that woman of yours safe."

"Cleo?"

"Yeah."

"Why would you tell me to do that?"

"Because…" Wycost paused, thinking of an answer.

"Because?"

"Because." The Bronx Bomber finally said. "Some days…when the world feels so horribly wrong, all you need to do is realize that there's someone in this world that cares for you beyond all measure, who's always there. And when you do that, life feels a little less lonely…and a lot more worth living."

The connection severed itself on Wycost's end. Doan waited a few seconds to be sure before he took off his helmet again and set it on the table beside his bed. Still armored, he pulled the pillow to his head and laid down on it, looking towards the curtains and the night beyond.

Many thoughts ran through Doan's mind as he began his sleep period of stasis, slowly letting his processes wind down to their minimal levels. Like usual, those thoughts remained his, untouched and unseen by the world around him.

A storm of uncertainty still raged within him. But moments of peace came, and made it bearable.

A few seconds later, his door opened and a petite feminine figure strolled in, laying down beside him on the bed.

"Hey." Cleo said mutedly, waiting a few moments before stroking his arm. "So…what was the decision?"

"I'm staying." Doan said quietly, relaxing the muscles in his body.

Behind him, Cleo's eyes glimmered in the room's dim light. She wrapped her arms around his midsection and pulled him close. "I'm glad."

Wordlessly, Doan reached a hand behind his back, clasping it to the back of her head and pulling her in. He stretched his neck and kissed her deeply, slowly shifting his whole body until he was facing her.

The two kissed for a few moments more before sleep overtook them. And even in sleep, curled up against one another, they found peace.

Whatever the last thought on Doan's mind was before his final mental processes cut off…

It made him smile.

MHHQ, Signas's(Cain's) Office

10:15 P.M.

To: Global Defense Council-Security Wing

From: Cmdr. Signas, Maverick Hunter Headquarters

Topic: The Future of the MHHQ

To the Security Council of the GDC;

I thank you for your recent E-Mail. Your congratulations are accepted, and you may rest assured that I will continue to lead operations just as efficiently.

Signas stopped typing for a moment, leaning back in his chair and setting a hand up to thoughtfully stroke his chin. It had taken him a long time to think over exactly what he would say in reply…even longer to finally work up the nerve. And the end result of all that, of the powerful internal struggle within himself concluded at this moment. He leaned forward again and continued to type.

The Maverick Hunters have served a vital role since their foundation; the capture and nullification of dangerous 'Maverick' forces. Founded by James Cain, the MHHQ represented a last bastion of hope for a troubled earth during the early days of the Maverick Wars, as some now call the time period from 2118 to present day.

James Cain's methods, as unusual as they were, kept a professional military force always on call. More than that, his methods of recruitment, completely voluntary, maintained that the Hunters who were there wanted to be there, and would fight for more than money…although that particular angle certainly didn't hurt matters.

Until his death, Cain had always been a primary advocate for the advancement of the rights of reploids, a role that was not always appreciated. However, inquire to any Maverick Hunter as to what sort of person the elderly human was, and you will receive the response that he was a true father figure, a person who always looked out for his children. And even more than that, he allowed them many freedoms that they would not receive anywhere else.

This freedom that Cain allowed the Hunters here on their home base had many effects. But key among them is that they can remain sane. Despite what some citizens of Earth may think, the Maverick Hunters are not a peacekeeping force, so much as a multifaceted army. This is a war we're fighting, a war against the Mavericks. While there are lulls here and there, the truth of the matter is that this life and profession is a dangerous one.

Cain gave the Maverick Hunters their freedoms so that despite the burdens of the job, they might still hold onto some semblance of a life. The more I am around the Maverick Hunters, the more I realize how sorely missed his presence is, and how quickly this place could fall apart.

In your letter, you wrote that with but a word from my office, you could bring the MHHQ deeper into GDC control. I am pleased to inform you all that this procedure is not needed.

The Maverick Hunters have succeeded in overcoming their latest trial with my assistance. I am confident that they are the fighting force so much legend makes them to be, and I am sure that the role they serve will continue to be needed. Their way of doing things may not be GDC standard operations, this is sure, but it nonetheless works, and works well.

To use a small colloquialism, 'why mess with a good thing?' The Hunters have proven to me that they are capable of seeing to their own affairs with the minor level of control that the GDC Main Branch has over them. I would be hard pressed to find a more dedicated, more capable, and more responsible group of warriors anywhere in the world.

I shall continue to serve in my role as the General of the Maverick Hunters, as per my initial orders. As I understand those directives, all matters concerning the Maverick Hunters fall under my jurisdiction, much as Dr. James T. Cain had. This includes, of course, Cain Labs and all other Hunter subsidiary organizations.

You may look forward to a stable MHHQ and many years of safety from Maverick activities. I thank you for your concern and interest. I am happy to reiterate that your concerns, however, are unnecessary.

-Respectfully yours,

Signas, General of Maverick Hunter Forces

The reploid stopped there, staring at the letter for several seconds. The letters rose from the screen in stark black text to the white background, hovering in midair.

Finally, he reached his hand down to the keyboard and pressed the send command. In a mere flicker of compliance, the letter vanished into cyberspace, bound for Amsterdam.

"Do what's right…" Signas said quietly to himself, turning his head about and smiling at Sigma II, who continued to calmly swim in his unorthodox goldfish bowl. "I think I'm beginning to understand how these Maverick Hunters can think the way they do, Tuey."

The goldfish burbled a bit at the new nickname, but didn't move out of his swimming pattern.

Signas leaned back in the offices' chair, looking at the ceiling for a moment before winking to heaven, in the off-chance that if Cain was there, he might look down and smile.

The calculating reploid shut his eyes then, allowing himself to doze off in the midst of an emotion he had never experienced before…perhaps not a true emotion, as much as a state of mind. Here, in the office he finally felt comfortable calling home, with a legacy he felt capable of continuing, and with a future that no longer seemed dismal, he decided that there was only one way to describe it.

Signas was at peace.

And it sure felt good.

MHHQMemorial Park

11:30 A.M.June 30th, 2131 A.D.

It was an unusual assembly that a fair sized chunk of the Maverick Hunters came to in the warm summer sun. Not a cloud dared show its face, leaving a sparkling blue sky that seemed to laugh at all below. The Memorial Park of the MHHQ, situated on its northern side, had typically been held as a place of reverence, of respect and silent mourning for those who had passed on to greener pastures.

All present could easily say that what was transpiring on this brilliant day was unlike anything that had happened in recent memory. Some of the older veterans of the facility laughed, their eyes alight with the fire of the ritual. They could remember this particular event, but it had been years since it was last performed. Perhaps that was because humans had been slowly phased out of the corps by their own volition. And typically, it was only humans that clung to this social function.

It must have looked odd to the casual observer. Maverick Hunters stood on either side of a long carpeted walkway that led up to the front of Cain's grave. A small platform had been erected in front of it, where an unusually clothed Mega Man X, now in purple and white robes with his hair dancing freely in the wind. He wore a smile on his face for many reasons…but perhaps the main one being that this particular role was one that he'd never been asked to perform before. Cain had handled them all before. It seemed fitting to do it in the old man's presence.

In fact, all present looked ready for a snapshot. Those who could recall their armor had done so and now wore tuxedos and conservative dresses, and those that could not had gotten their battle gear freshly repaired and polished.

No woman there looked more stunning than Bristol, who was being led down the aisle by a smiling Julius Kinnian Horn, dressed typically enough in a sparkling orange tuxedo with the arm sleeves cut off. This caused many stares, but not so much as the fact he was wearing sandals. Even for this most formal occasion, it seemed, Horn could not part with the Hawaiian shirt lifestyle he had become accustomed to. As for Bristol, she was dressed all in white fabric, layered so perfectly that it seemed almost as if the dress had been poured on her. A light lace veil came down over her face, shrouding it from view. Even Horn had a difficult time seeing that underneath, she was beaming.

Up near the front, Bastion stood by the platform, nervously shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back again. His own garb wasn't westernized at all, as he had chosen to wear celebratory garb from his homeland. The brightly colored fabrics danced around him, making him look fit for any Arab princes' court. For the time, he had somehow managed to tie his ruffled hair back into some semblance of a braid. His heart was pounding, of course. He had even managed to get it to tick in time with the music, played by one of the more musically minded 'techs. The march was classic enough, and that wasn't helping his courage any.

Finally, Horn and Bristol made it to Bastion and X. Horn took Bristol's hand and set it in Bastion's, giving them both a supportive pat on the back and a smile before turning to the side and walking to join Allegro, who stood patiently at the front left of the assembly. As if he was in a dream, Bastion reached his hands towards Bristol's face, pushing the veil up and over her head.

The sun seemed to shine a little brighter at that moment, as she tilted her head up to look at him, and her smile somehow increased. In that fraction of an instant, all of Bastion's fears evaporated, and he smiled back.

Hand in hand, Bristol and Bastion turned to face X. Shortly thereafter, the music reached its conclusion, fading away the final strains.

X raised his hands, and quiet fell over the whispering crowd. He smiled at them all, then cleared his throat. "Be seated." Everyone took X's orders, easing back into the white lawn chairs that had been freshly replicated.

"Well, there's something traditional I'm supposed to say right now to get this thing started…but for the life of me, I can't remember right now."

Several patches of laughter broke out here and there, then settled down. X chuckled a bit. "But I assume we all know why we're here. And thank God it's not for what we usually do." He added, his voice taking a more somber lilt.

Several nods of agreement appeared, but it was generally quiet.

"To my memory, Doctor Cain always handled these kinds of things." X continued. "That's why we're doing it here. Not to mention there's something about the month of June, the outside, and this particular social event that seem to fit together so nicely. So I suppose before I continue, I'd best introduce these two, eh?"

He motioned towards them. "We didn't know you for long, Bristol, but somehow you made this place a little brighter. I'm glad that you were able to return back, however briefly that time was. And wherever you go from here, go with our blessings and our best wishes. As for you, Bastion…" X clicked his tongue for a few moments before continuing. "A year and some ago, I recommended you for command of your own Unit after that messy affair in the Fifth Uprising. You held all the talents necessary to be a great leader, and I'll stand by my decision to this day. You are truly one of the best Hunters ever to come into this place…and sadly, one of the best to leave it. I'm sorry that you are leaving, but I know I can't change your mind about it. So like Bristol, I want you to go out there with my fond regards."

X turned towards the attendees and raised his voice. "One of the greatest things that two people can find in this life is love. Somehow, these two found it. With all that goes wrong in this world, with everything that we seek to correct, love is a reminder of something better beyond the dirt and the blood and the suffering. Love is one of those almost undefinable qualities that drives people to do crazy things, and can be said by those who have it to be one of the vital components of a meaningful existence. Some would even say it's THE most vital component. And when a love like the one that Bastion and Bristol have found comes along, the two people who share it want to show the world how much that love means. That's why we're gathered here today. So these two can, like so many millions of couples before our time, tie the knot."

X looked around the pavilion for a moment, lifting an eyebrow. "Man, I hate doing this next part…especially with you guys." He grumbled halfheartedly. "Can anyone here think of a reason why these two shouldn't get hitched?"

From somewhere in the back, Jad flung his arm up. "I got one!! She deserves better, like me!!"

Several peals of laughter echoed out from that comment before Bristol turned about, laughing at it. "Sorry to disappoint you, Jad. But maybe I like my men a little plain."

Jad let out a disappointed sigh before sitting back down. X waved his arms about to slow the chatter, then rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase that. Does anyone have a GOOD reason why these two shouldn't get hitched?"

Finally, a respectful silence arose. X nodded with satisfaction. "Thought so. Well then, let's continue."

A ways away from the grand wedding, Willow sat on the roof of the MHHQ's main building, one leg dangling over the side and the other propped up with her arm braced on it. Her green eyes focused down on the proceedings with hawkish intensity, and her free hand ran lazy circles on the concrete surface she sat on.

She didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind. The first indication of company came when he spoke.

"Funny. Why aren't you down there with them? I would have thought Bristol would make you a lady in waiting." Wycost prodded in amusement.

Willow smiled a bit, continuing to look down as the Bronx Bomber plopped down beside her, setting an object on his far side. "She tried, laddie. She tried. But that's one thing I couldn't bring meself to do. I like my privacy too much, and something like that's way too open." She gave him a quick sideways glance. "And what about you?"

"Bastion wanted me to be the best man for a bit…I managed to convince him otherwise." Wycost shrugged, ignoring Willow's snort. "I consider those two very dear friends, but the simple fact of the matter is that there's almost nobody down there in the audience that really remembers me all that fondly anymore. Maybe it's for the best…makes it easier to sever ties."

"You know, they're crazy." Willow remarked blandly, waving her free arm towards the wedding. "Who ever heard of reploids getting married?"

"Why not?" Wycost countered with a shrug. "People get married because they love each other. Children are just a necessary side effect of the union. With reploids, maybe it's purer because of that."

"Why, because we can feel love, but can't make it?"

"Yep. No wonder I drink so much." Wycost said with a smirk. Willow giggled a bit, rocking in her seat.

"You sure you're not Irish?"

"Only half, my dear." Wycost said with an easy reply.

Subconsciously, he reached his hand down and laid it on the cement until it bumped into hers.

Shyly, she positioned her hand closer, until he gently picked it up and held her hand in his own. She looked over at him for a moment, comforted by his reassuring smile. It was then she noticed the strange object beside him…a picnic cooler.

"What's in that thing?" She asked quietly. Wycost turned his head back towards the Memorial Park and smiled.

"Patience, Willow. Patience. It isn't time yet."

Below, the wedding continued, its attendants unaware of the two reploids watching from afar.

"Marriage is a contract between two people. It is symbolic of the depths of their love for one another, and their commitment to that union. Nowadays, this is a rare thing indeed. But it still happens, and when it does, it is cause for celebration. Before friends and before whatever higher power we choose to believe in, they have come here today for just that purpose." X coughed a bit before continuing. "If you two have wedding vows, you may exchange them now."

Bastion looked at Bristol for a long while before finally speaking. "I don't know who I have pleased in my life to find such an angel as you waiting for me. But I really don't care. The fact is that you are here, and you chose to love me. I never want to lose that, Bristol. I never want to lose you again. So stay by my side, and let me always be there to take care of you."

Bristol looked back at him, squeezing his hand tighter as she spoke up. "The first time I saw you, I had forgotten who I was, save my name alone. In those troubled times, it was you who guided me, became my support and my second spirit. You helped me overcome everything…and even when I left in search of my lost life, you never lost faith. You have always been a knight in shining armor to me, Bastion. But now you are more than that. You are my life itself, the reason I stay strong. I would be stupid to ever think about letting you go. So yes…stay with me. As long as I have you with me, I can face anything."

Whoops and hollers arose, along with several powerful cheering whistles. X quieted them all down again, although his smile became less reserved from the infectious good moods sifting around the room.

"Well, if that doesn't deserve an Oscar for overdramatics, I don't know what does anymore." X said, kicking off even more laughter. "Now then, the important part of this whole shebang."

"In sight of friends and deities of our choosing, we have come here today to witness the union of these two. Bristol, do you take Bastion to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, 'till death do you part, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." Came the radiant reply.

"And do you, Bastion, take this exceptional specimen of feminine beauty who calls herself Bristol to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, 'till death do you part, as long as you both shall live?"

"I most certainly will." Came Bastion's retort, along with a silly grin.

"Well then…whoops, almost forgot something!" X corrected himself quickly, turning his head up. "Where's the Ring Boy?!"

"Coming!!" Came the frantic voice from far behind in the pavilion, accompanied by loud and plodding footsteps. Everyone turned and laughed as a flustered Hazil, his tuxedo slightly distressed, raced up the aisle with a grimace of indignation on his face, a tiny gray velvet covered box in hand.

"Damn, I didn't know you could run!" Came a voice from the crowd, triggering even more laughter.

Hazil finally reached the front, taking several calming breaths before shaking his head. "Sorry I'm late…these things are murder to get into. Guess I've spent way too much time in lab smocks, eh?" He lifted the box up on the flat of his palm, then opened the lid. "But here ya go, you two. Made to order."

Inside sparkled two plain bands of platinum, one slightly smaller than the other.

Bastion reached inside, gingerly picking up the smaller ring before lifting Bristol's right hand up and slipping it gently onto her ring finger. Likewise, Bristol reached into the box and pulled out Bastion's ring, setting it onto his ring finger as well. Hazil snapped the empty box shut, then nodded at them.

"Good luck, you two." He said, before turning around to go sit by Horn and a snickering Allegro.

The two turned to face Mega Man X again, who lifted his arms up and cleared his throat one last time. "The rings have been exchanged, and so have the vows. And so, there is but one thing left for me to do. By the power vested in me from the good faith of The Maverick Hunters, and the spirit of our late founder, Doctor James T. Cain, I now pronounce you two lucky ducks man and wife." X lowered his hands and grinned to no end. "Now kiss the bride, you silly bastard."

Bastion turned Bristol around, staring deeply into her eyes for the eternity of a few seconds before lowering his head down and capturing her mouth in a fiery kiss she ardently returned. And then the cheers erupted.

Off on the side, Pugs, the Bartender from The Last Round tapped open a massive keg of ale. "THE BAR'S OPEN!!" He called out, triggering the previous cheers to swell up to new heights.

Bastion pulled away from Bristol for a moment, shutting his eyes as he warped his clothes away for his armor, which had been fully polished and repaired as well. In a swift motion, the wings of his Angels' Advantage Flight Armor swung out into their ready mode, and he walked back to Bristol before picking her up in his arms and lifting them off of the ground effortlessly. As those in attendance stood, cheering and clapping, Bastion hovered up into the air a bit more, smiling to no end as he cradled Bristol against him.

Close to the back of the assembly, the surviving members of the 21st Unit lined up on either side of the red carpet. Gavin was at the front of them, along with Jad and Kol. Standing proudly in their field best, the Unit snapped their feet together. Gavin lifted his head up, smiling just as much as any of them before bellowing out his cry.

"Present ARMS!" Came his shout. Every member of the 21st raised their Busters and sabers aloft, holding them at a diagonal angle over the return road, then froze. Gavin turned towards Bastion and offered one final salute, with his smile that was both happy and sad.

Bristol in his arms, Bastion soared down the red carpet, mere inches above the ground with his new wife laughing as they went. At the end of the carpet, they passed underneath the gauntlet of the 21st Unit, then swept up and shot into the clear blue skies above, as the Hunters underneath continued to cheer, then headed for Pugs and the refreshments table.

Wycost finally opened the cooler, pulling out a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses. Willow looked at him for a moment, smiling a bit. "And just who did you have to bribe to get those?"

"Pugs remembered who I was. And he's a decent enough fella to supply alcohol on such festive occasions." Wycost answered back with a smile, popping the bottle's cork and pouring the bubbling liquid into each glass. He calmly handed her a glass before setting the bottle back down inside the cooler, sipping back on his own.

Willow wrinkled her nose after the first sip. "I'd forgotten that some of this stuff tickles."

"Most of the hooch I'm accustomed to burns on the way down." Wycost mused, swirling the liquid around. "Stuff like this is a welcome break."

"I suppose that change is good, every now and then." Willow said quietly, taking another sip from her glass.

"Yeah. I suppose it is." Wycost mused, shaking his head. "Was it good for us?"

Willow looked over at him, the tension drained out of her face after what had seemed like an eternity of pent up feelings. She only smiled in response to his question before turning back and looking towards the wedding.

"You're far too much like me for your own good, you know. Why do we choose to avoid such public spectacles?"

Wycost shrugged in reply, scooting closer towards her. "Maybe we just don't like the spotlight. Then again, maybe we've lived in the shadows for so long that for as much as we curse them, we can't go without them to some extent. But I'm not complaining. My friends know how to reach me if they need to…and not being in the limelight is something that's always helped."

"Do you think what we're planning to do is crazy?"

"Oh, definitely." Wycost answered easily. "I have no doubt that at some level, we're off of our rockers to some small extent. But we have to do it, Willow."

"I have to, and Bristol has to. The rest of you didn't."

"…No, I suppose we didn't." Wycost admitted after a pause. "But would you have it any other way?"

"No." Willow chuckled quietly. "I suppose not…things would get too lonely."

"Didn't think so." Wycost smirked. "Next question. Do we stand a chance?"

"We took out MI9 HQ…the very heart of their operations. And together, we fought long and hard to keep the future safe. Will it be harder from this point on? I have no doubt of that. But I'll tell ye one thing, laddie." Willow said, finishing her champagne in one quick gulp. "We've got a good group of people standing with us. And for once, the world doesn't seem so dark. Maybe fate's decided to stop giving me the short end of it, but things seem like they'll turn out all right."

"Yes. But nobody can know what we do for them…and nobody's ever going to sing praises for our actions."

"The price I suppose we have to pay." Willow shrugged. "But considering how much we like the shadows, that doesn't bother me."

Wycost reached an arm around her waist and pulled her next to him. "Doesn't bother me either."

Willow leaned on his shoulder, smirking as she looked up at the figures dancing in the sky. "I wonder about those two some days."

"What about?"

"Just how they can be so happy…and how up there, right now, nothing else matters. Not tomorrow, not the future…not whether or not this Scion's Zenith thing will turn out all right. All that they see in front of them is happiness and bliss, and exhilaration."

"Is that so wrong?" Wycost queried, staring up towards Bastion and Bristol. "Everyone is entitled to happiness in their life. They've found theirs in each other. Don't tell me you haven't found some measure of solace as well in your life." His hand went up, slowly stroking through her hair. "Tomorrow will come when it must…but for now, life can be enjoyed. Laughter can happen. And love…"

Willow scruffed his hair before releasing the last of the tension in her body.

"I suppose we can let love take over." She said quietly, resting all her weight on him.

Wycost flipped down his glasses and let her rest her head in the crook between his arm and chest.

I don't know what the future holds…

But as long as it's with you…

I will walk through any fire, and see all troubles through.

Up above, Bastion pulled Bristol close to him, laughing as he did. In reply came a sudden wetness on his shoulder as she rested her head there.

Bastion pulled her back a bit, looking at her in concern.

"Is something wrong?"

Tears shining in her eyes, Bristol reached a hand up to her face, pushing aside the liquid in her blurry optics. She looked down at the ring on her finger, and the ring on his…then slowly fingered the silver locket she once again wore around her neck.

Symbols of love, all of them…Love for a man who would give anything for her, who would never betray her. Love for her guardian angel, given form beyond heaven.

"Nothing's wrong." She finally said, kissing him on the nose. "For once…everything's right."

Perhaps tomorrow is uncertain, perhaps it scares me to think that way,

But for now, I have my peace, upon this picture perfect day…

"It isn't the wedding I think you were expecting, though." Bastion prodded teasingly. Bristol laughed at that.

"No, mine was far more boring. I have to say I like the improvement…but there's just one thing missing."

"Oh, what's that?"

Calmly, Bristol held aloft the bridal bouquet, which she had held since the very beginning of the ceremony in her free hand. She gave him a playful grin, then with careful aim, threw the amassed flowers down towards the crowds of Maverick Hunters below. They drifted down without a care in the world, leisurely sliding back and forth along invisible air currents, flailing petals out in all directions as it continued down.

The thronging masses reacted wildly to it…all the women rushing towards it, and all the men suddenly finding a sudden urge to refill their tankards at the bar.

In the broad daylight of a perfect June wedding, Bristol's eyes danced with their own laughter. In Bastion's arms, she pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck before reaching her head up to him for a kiss to end all kisses.

I didn't know what it meant to live, until you came and smiled at me,

Held in your arms, I now know love, now in your arms, my soul is free…

It was an event that would not be forgotten about for many months to come. In the passion of such a positive event, all else faded.

Some old friends were leaving. And others were dead to begin with. But those that remained did not fall into sorrow. In a celebration of life, the MHHQ seemed to regain a spark of itself.

It was in the hopes and dreams of the angels that danced in the sky.

It was in the consolation and redemption found by two scarred souls in each other that sat atop the hallowed structure.

It was in the warriors who forgot for a time the low points of their life, and discovered something better, something pure, and something worth fighting for beyond loyalty to nation and cause.

It was in the eyes of a hero who stood by the grave of the man he called his second father, who seemed to smile knowingly towards the core building, and to the figure in red who leaned against it and offered a similar smile and knowing wave.

And it was all around them, in the air, in the sky, and in the trees and grass that grew to freedom.

I'll remember this place, this home I had, in times of sorrow and in glad.

I'll remember the people I leave behind, even as I go on to find…

Something more, something undone. Before the setting of the sun

I make a promise, I answer this plea, There is something else that I can be.

And I'll work for a place, and I'll dream of a land

Where suffering's gone and there is no strife…

For I see it now, returned to this place…

The force, the spark…

The beauty…

Of life.