Disclaimers are located back in the first chapter. For those of you who have been patiently waiting for some real action… the payoff begins here.

~ * Illusion * ~

The crew of the Dolphin soon gathered at the deck. According to the data Pyunma had transferred from the enemy craft, they would be arriving at the base shortly. They had decided beforehand not to take the ship direct to their destination: it seemed highly likely that they would have to make a quick escape, and didn't want to risk the Dolphin's destruction.

If the situation absolutely called for it, the few members who were remaining behind could bring the Dolphin into play, though that was a scenario everyone hoped to avoid.

Francoise stood beside Doctor Gilmore; though she balanced Ivan's bassinet carefully in her arms, she paid little attention to the slumbering child. There was a slightly distant quality to her downcast eyes, the aquamarine pools shimmering with worry.

Like the other cyborgs, she was clad in her usual red uniform; however, the gold muffler that completed the ensemble was noticeably absent. Nobody really needed the visual reminder of her previous injury. It had already been decided that the female cyborg would stay behind; in the minds of the others, she'd done more than enough by protecting Gilmore from the assassin. Had she not been present, it seemed a foregone conclusion that the good doctor would not be standing there then.

Still, Francoise took little comfort in this knowledge, for it meant one less cyborg heading off on this mission. She despised fighting, but having to wait helplessly while others battled was not precisely an enjoyable alternative.

Surreptitiously, her gaze traveled from one face to another, studying her comrades one last time before they set off for the enemy stronghold. The tension hanging over the six was almost a tangible cloud, strengthened by the uneasy silence that accompanied it.

She caught Joe shooting Jet a furtive glance: while the two stood on nearly opposite ends of the group, the mixture of nervousness, concern, and frustration playing over the leader's face made Jet the most obvious recipient. The spike-haired punk seemed to be pointedly ignoring the accelerating cyborg, however. Jet's thick bangs shadowed his face, making it difficult to read his expression beyond the firm set of his jaw.

Chang uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again; somehow, Francoise sincerely doubted it was due solely to the tension between the other cyborgs. Albert, Geronimo Junior, and Pyunma were far more difficult to read, concealing whatever they might be feeling behind solemn eyes and thin, determined frowns.

"Be careful, all of you," Gilmore was instructing the others… like they needed any reminder of the dangers they were about to face.

Still, Joe nodded, responding automatically with "You too, Doctor. We'll be back as soon as we can…"

Jet made a strange, curt noise in the back of his throat, scoffing at the vague attempt at reassurance. Joe glanced over at the American without moving his head, then drew himself up slightly, steadying himself.

It was Pyunma who turned away first, but this was hardly surprising; after all, strictly speaking the team was heading into his territory. Jet followed close on the combat specialist's heels, the others filing after them.

Francoise looked sadly after her departing friends, hugging Ivan's bassinet a bit tighter. The sleeping infant stirred, and she dropped her gaze to him, watching the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. Beside her, Doctor Gilmore sighed, and she didn't need to glance over at the elderly scientist to know that his face was lined with worry.

Six of her teammates were leaving… she would have gladly given up anything to ensure that seven would return safely.

~ * ~

The rest of the crossing passed almost dreamlike, or at least it seemed to from Chang's perspective. Maybe it was due to the fact that he wasn't leading the way, like Pyunma, or trying to discern the quickest and safest route to the underwater fortress.

If he'd considered that particular issue, he probably would have felt quite guilty about it. Here they were venturing into hostile waters, and yet he was scarcely paying attention to his surroundings. He hung close to both Albert and Geronimo, inadvertently having them pick up his slack while docilely following in the aquatic master's wake, figuring Pyunma knew where they were going.

In truth, however, Chang didn't even realize how dangerous his inattention was… paid it no mind whatsoever, ironically enough.

There were much more important matters to think about -- like what, exactly, he would do once they arrived.

His focus shifted back from the nebulous future to the present when their destination finally came into view. Nestled among jagged spires of rock, the dark slope of the structure's roof gave the illusion of an impenetrable shadow, nearly invisible.

Now his senses sharpened considerably, and Chang followed the example of his comrades even more closely, aware a single mistake could mean the difference between detection and survival. He still kept pace with Geronimo, trusting the giant's senses better than he did his own.

At length, as they maneuvered carefully along the rocky spires, Pyunma waved them all to cover just before the midnight hull of a submarine rose into view. The cyborgs waited until it passed overhead, then, at the combat expert's signal, swam quickly down to where the warcraft had emerged.

As they both expected and hoped, the telltale steel hatch soon appeared before them, tucked away beneath a covering of faux rock. To their surprise -- and slight unease and discomfort -- they discovered the gates to be slightly ajar: the span of a few feet separated the massive doors… hardly enough for a ship to pass through, but wide enough for a human to pass through safely…

Pyunma glanced back at his colleagues, then nodded slightly and darted swiftly forward, aware they followed close behind.

Albert fell to the back of the group as they passed through the gates, and stole a backward glance at the portal even while trailing after the others. He was mildly surprised to note that the gate didn't immediately seal itself after they were all inside; still, it was far from comforting.

Swiftly ascending, he stifled his instinctive gulp for air when he broke the surface of the water as best he could, then paddled to the edge of the dock. All the while, the German's steel blue eyes scanned his surroundings, trying to determine what awaited them.

Still no sign of Black Ghost or his flunkies. The underground harbor was disturbingly quiet: the equipment scattered around remained silent and unmoving, unmanned as far as he could ascertain. Several boxes sat in stacks here and there, possibly waiting to be loaded once the next transport arrived.

But where were the workers, the soldiers, the guards…? Their apparent absence only heightened Albert's discomfort.

"Let's go." Jet broke the silence quickly, already heading toward the nearest exit without so much as a glance back to the others.

"002, wait…" Joe emerged from the water and started after him, only to be stopped by Pyunma's hand tightening over his shoulder.

"I'll go with him," the dark-skinned cyborg volunteered. In a terse undertone he explained, "We should split up to cover more ground anyway…"

What he didn't add was that he, out of everyone present, was likely the best choice to accompany-slash-supervise the short-tempered flyboy.

"Alright then…" Climbing out of the water, Albert stepped up behind Joe and clasped a hand over his leader's other shoulder. "I'll go with 009, then."

Geronimo and Chang shared a sideways glance, then both nodded slightly, recognizing that they were paired together by default. As Pyunma hurried off after Jet, the remaining cyborgs followed more slowly, then splintered off to head in separate directions.

~ * ~

Deep in the heart of the stronghold, a cloaked figure raised his head slightly, yellow eyes glowing faintly in the dim lighting of his chamber. Though his frozen, skeletal grin remained unchanging, the air of cruel satisfaction surrounding him seemed to intensify.

"Our guests have arrived," he spoke aloud, not merely to the dark room he waited alone in, but to certain members of his forces as well. "Be sure to welcome them back home…"

"With open arms," replied a low voice, belonging to a slender figure that crouched in the shadows some distance away from where the master sat.

Peridot eyes flashed once, then the silhouette straightened and began to contort, melting into the darkness until it was nearly impossible to discern where it was.

~ * ~

The resistance that Joe and Albert had run into so far was close to minimal, much to the German's growing unease. So far, all they had come across were the usual bulky, blunt-featured robots that Black Ghost so enjoyed throwing at them in hordes, and even those seemed to number significantly less than what he was accustomed to.

They had yet to meet a single human soldier, however… There were no scientists, no abnormally strong machines, no waves of grunts blocking their progress. Just intermediate waves of the same type of mass-produced weaponry they'd faced and beaten so many times before.

Albert wished he could take that as a good sign. However, the living arsenal's instincts insisted that such seemingly favorable conditions most likely meant that Black Ghost had something worse in store…

If Joe was concerned about the same thing, the younger cyborg certainly concealed it well. While he wasn't using his acceleration mode as they made their way through the convoluted corridors, he still tended to remain several feet in front of his partner. Even how he tended to hesitate at each door they came across, peering around each corner and into each portal carefully before either heading through or moving on, only gave Albert seconds each time to try and close the distance between them.

Neither cyborg was entirely certain just how they were going to locate 007 in the sprawling complex. …Well, actually, Albert figured that eventually they would either stumble across the shapeshifter or he would find them, but as for how long that might take…

About the only thing they had to go on was the sparse contact they were maintaining with the others. So long as nobody else suddenly announced that they'd found Britain, it was probably best to keep searching, and hoping…

"…004!"

Joe pressed himself flat against the frame of the doorway he had just peered through, and Albert felt his pulse leap as he caught up with his leader. Flattening against the wall, he dropped to a crouch just behind 009, shooting him an expectant look. Joe said nothing, but nodded toward the portal shortly, mutely telling his partner to look for himself.

Edging forward, Albert moved just enough that he was able to glance into the adjoining room. Though Joe's behavior gave him some clue as to what to expect, there were some things that were simply impossible to adequately prepare for.

At first, all he could see were the forest green backs of still more robotic soldiers; making a silent tally, he counted off at least eight of the grunts before his attention shifted to other, more vital details. Like, for example, the still figure in black hanging from restraints built into the otherwise bare steel wall.

Albert heard Joe suck in a breath, and opened his own mouth to say something. But before the first word passed his lips, there was a sharp, almost inaudible click that he picked up primarily thanks to how close he stood to Joe -- and then he was alone.

Instinct made him spring to his feet, and in the next instant he dashed into the room only to find the battle already over, the enemy soldiers already crumpled on the ground with smoke trailing from their wounds. Joe reappeared at the far end of the room, directly in front of the trapped cyborg.

Shaking his head slightly, Albert grunted softly, both annoyed and relieved at the same time. His raised arm lowered, but instead of letting his gunhand fall back to his side he kept it outstretched in front of him. Gingerly the German began picking his way through the bodies of the fallen guard, heading over to join his comrades.

Joe wasn't even aware of his partner's presence at that moment. The only thing that mattered was the semiconscious cyborg suspended in front of him. Even as he started tugging on the cuff encircling the prisoner's right wrist, he stirred and raised half-lidded brown eyes to gaze up at his rescuer's face.

"Zero…zero-nine…" Britain's voice cracked, and the shapeshifter swallowed hard before choking out in a raspy whisper, "You… came…"

"Don't talk," ordered Joe, his voice calmer than he felt right then. "Just hang on, okay?"

The first manacle gave way in his hands at that moment, and with it no longer bearing his weight Britain slumped forward. Joe quickly grabbed hold of the shapeshifter, before he fell far enough for the cuff round his other wrist to come into play: Britain hardly needed another jolt like that to his already battered frame.

With a little coaxing, the other shackle soon unlatched as well, leaving Joe as the only thing holding Britain up. Hooking his arms underneath the Englishman's, Joe stood there in silence, temporarily overwhelmed by their ordeal. He could feel Britain shivering in his grasp, felt the shapeshifter wrap his arms around his waist, like he was trying to confirm 009 was really there.

He unconsciously tightened his grip in response, to confirm the same thing. He didn't want to consider what the shapeshifter must have been put through before their arrival. What mattered now was that it was over, and wouldn't ever happen again…

Behind them, Albert drew to a halt and stood silently watching his reunited comrades. The tenseness did not entirely leave the German's expression, though steel blue eyes brightened briefly with relief before returning to casing the area, trying to ensure there weren't any unpleasant surprises in store for them.

"007…" Joe's crimson eyes shone with unshed tears as he regarded his formerly lost friend. "…W…we have to go. C-can you stand, or do you need…"

His question was cut short as Britain tightened his embrace, the clutching fingers suddenly driving into his back. The transformer's trembling ceased, and Joe felt the features of the face pressed against his chest shift subtly. Though he couldn't look down and see it, somehow he knew the shapeshifter was smiling.

"Help me, 009," he whispered into the folds of Joe's tunic, soft voice carrying a strength that hadn't been there before. "Let me lean on you for a while, and I'm sure I'll be alright…"

Albert heard the shift in Britain's tone, saw his embrace shift from thankful to fierce, and after only a second's hesitation moved to intervene. But before he took more than a step forward, the shapeshifter rose to his feet, and the cold expression on his face as he peered over Joe's shoulder was warning enough to freeze Albert in his tracks.

With inhuman grace he moved, carrying his burden with him, and Albert spun around to track the movement. Instead of breaking for the doorway, which the German half-expected, the shapeshifter moved so that his back was flush against another wall -- and Joe was still directly in front of him, only now the brown-haired boy was turned to face Albert.

Britain's right arm was wrapped completely around Joe's waist, pinning his arms flush against his sides. His left hand cupped the boy's jaw, fingers curled so that the tips pressed firmly against his cheek. Peeking over his hostage's shoulder, Britain smiled at Albert -- a sadistic, twisted grin.

Face wrenched with silent fury, Albert raised his right arm and pointed it toward the other cyborgs. Oddly enough, the shapeshifter's smile seemed to widen slightly as he stared down the five barrels leveled in his direction.

"Ah, 004…" Britain's voice came out laden with false innocence, and he blinked several times, eyes widening and glistening with feigned tears. "I thought 009 and I were your friends! You're really going to shoot us…? You can't mean it, really…"

"Shut up." Albert's tone was glacial.

The shapeshifter's eyes widened, brown irises contracting sharply, surprise flooding over the familiar face when 004 punctuated his sharp words with a sharper burst of gunfire. Then a ragged shriek accompanied the splatter of crimson against the bare steel walls, the howl of a wounded animal.

The unbearable pressure around Joe's chest abated, and he stumbled forward, momentarily too stunned to function properly. Though his mind raced to fit the pieces together into something more coherent, it took precious seconds for everything to register and fall into place.

There was a sticky warmth at the nape of his neck, a dampness coating the back of his hair. Dazedly he raised one hand to feel the area; his fingers glistened with scarlet moisture when he brought it back before his face.

Albert was abruptly beside him, all but yanking him forward, seemingly ignorant of how the younger cyborg stumbled and nearly lost his footing entirely. Uncomprehending, Joe stared at the German's face, finding something distinctly amiss about the coldness in his glassy eyes, the harsh set of his mouth.

He snarled something; the words were lost on him, ringing meaninglessly in Joe's burning ears. 004's grimace deepened, then his left hand tightened over 009's shoulder. With a harsh shove he spun him around just enough for Joe to witness another horror, one that threatened to freeze the breath in his throat.

A black-suited figure swayed and staggered on its feet -- vaguely he realized that this was once Great Britain, or rather the person he'd mistaken for his missing friend. Nothing of that former resemblance remained now; the only visual clue left was that the uniform this stranger wore was exactly like the one 007 had been wearing before.

That, and the fact that the stumbling creature was currently clasping the right side of his face with one hand -- covering the wound 004 had just given the shapeshifter, when he…

Joe lurched backward, overcome with sudden nausea. Yet he couldn't stop staring, couldn't tear his terrified gaze away from the grievously wounded cyborg.

The figure in sullied black staggered, animalistic snarls tearing from its twisting mouth. Its left arm fell against the wall, fingers fusing together, then the convulsing limb began to tear apart, three hairline cracks running down to the elbow. Joe stared, petrified, at the sickening sight.

The appendage suddenly snapped upward, completely morphed into a tri-pronged claw. Pointing it toward the frozen Joe, the shapeshifter turned a furious glare upon him, exposing a startlingly feminine face. A single pale eye bored daggers into the stunned silent lad, its mate sealed shut by ugly black sores. Beneath that ghastly sight gaped a twisted maw that widened with its -- her -- rising shriek.

"009--!"

She lunged, lashing out with what used to be her left arm. Joe gaped at the approaching horror until he felt something slam into him -- not from the front, but from behind. Albert flinched as the shapeshifter passed overhead, the tip of one of her claws grazing his back, but that was all the damage she managed to inflict.

Rolling to one side with Joe, he grimaced with effort as he pulled both of them upright.

"009!" he shouted, glaring full into his commander's face. "Snap out of it!"

Another wretched shriek behind them; Albert looked sharply over his shoulder, then cursed and shoved Joe backward again. He started to pivot, knee unhinging as he rose into a crouch.

Then three prongs crashed full into his chest, cutting short his cry of agony when a black shadow slammed into him. His back met the wall first, and his head snapped back, causing blinding white stars to explode before his eyes.

The pressure on his chest intensified, the claw pinning him against the steel beginning to sprout tiny black barbs. Albert glared weakly at the distorted visage leaning over him, the face twisted by both wounds and rage alike. The single peridot eye blazed with hellfire, the mouth widening into a gruesome smile that bared jagged white teeth.

The shapeshifter didn't have to say a word to get her point across. It was clear she intended to make 004 suffer agonies far worse than a blast to the face.

The twisted maw widened, leaning closer -- then reeled backward abruptly, smote by an unseen hand.

The weight against his chest lightened, then disappeared entirely as the monster staggered back, convulsing again and again. Albert sunk to the ground, legs folding beneath him, pulling air into his bruised chest.

The beast snarled, slashed uselessly at thin air, only to stumble once more. Suddenly, she collapsed, falling to the floor like a discarded rag doll. The shuddering figure contracted in on itself, shrinking and reshaping into a black-furred rat that darted to the door. It was gone before Albert could react.

Joe reappeared then, and staggered in place briefly before turning to face his partner. The brown-haired boy's legs trembled, yet held enough strength for him to limp over to where Albert lay and crouch beside him. Garnet eyes drank in the sight of the German's wounds, where the front of his tunic was torn apart, then rose to meet his steely gaze, filled with shame and self-recrimination.

"…004… I…"

Albert forestalled the inevitable apology with a shake of his head. Lifting his left hand, he clasped his commander's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Somehow, he couldn't quite force a smile to come to his lips, not even for Joe's benefit.

"…Well, what do we do now?" he questioned softly.

Joe remained silent, for he had no answer yet for that query. The two sat together in the darkened chamber, each wondering what their next move should be. Several possibilities rose to mind -- the original mission still remained -- but right then, neither exactly felt capable of continuing. For the moment, the best recourse was to rest… even if they could only spare a couple of minutes before forging on…