As always, those interested in the disclaimers can find them back in the first chapter.
~ * Devastation * ~
The crackle of flames faded beneath the pound of rapid footsteps as 005 and 006 plunged down the hallway they had just blockaded with the blaze. Chang stole a quick glance over his shoulder before hurrying after his partner: while the fire wall would not last long without the chef supplying fresh flames, there was little left behind that could possibly pursue after they died out.
It was what lay ahead -- or what they hoped to find up ahead -- which mattered most at the moment.
So far, their search had turned up little more than cookie-cutter android soldiers to smash-slash-burn and a maze of disorienting corridors and rooms. Chang sincerely hoped that Geronimo knew where they were; he'd already managed to get himself completely turned around more than once.
…How did Black Ghost's employees manage to find their way around these sprawling complexes, anyway? After a while it all tended to look the same to the firebreather: if there were signs that showed what part of the base they were currently exploring, he missed them entirely.
What they needed, he decided privately after a few seconds of consideration, was one of those huge map displays with a flashing dot that proclaimed 'YOU ARE HERE' in bold print. Maybe a directory of important areas… just a basic outline of the layout would be great, too; he wasn't picky…
At this point, however, there was only one place he wanted to find so they could get out of this horrible, confusing fortress…
Ahead of him, Geronimo ground to an abrupt halt before the next doorway they had come across. By the time Chang caught up, the giant's fist had already formed a sizable dent in the steel panel. It buckled and fell from its frame, and both cyborgs peered into the darkened room beyond.
Computer stations lined the walls of the room; the blank monitors of those closest to the doorway gleamed when the light streaming around the pair standing there reached them, but were otherwise dark, silent, unresponsive. There were no flashing lights to betray equipment that was still active. The station appeared to be completely abandoned.
(Just like the last ones,) Chang thought, huffing, face screwing up with disappointment.
At least they could guess at where they were in the base, even if there was no way the chef could know for certain whether or not their estimates were correct. If the machinery they'd uncovered in the last few rooms they'd checked was any indication, this was where a lot of research and development took place. Though they'd yet to run across anyone other than robot guards, it seemed like the ideal place for the evil organization's scientists to work…
Geronimo was already moving on, and Chang scurried after him, though his shorter legs and slower start made it difficult to keep pace with the seemingly tireless 005. The sheer stamina that the larger cyborg possessed never ceased to amaze Chang…
They nearly missed the next door; unlike the others they had passed in this sector, it blended with the bare steel walls of the hallway almost seamlessly. The frame was recessed, flattened, making the outline of the portal more difficult to pick out in the dim lighting.
Chang actually noticed it before Geronimo did, rounding the corner just in time to see the strongman stride past it. He blinked, then shouted, "Hey, wait…!"
005 paused and looked back at his comrade as the shorter cyborg hastened to catch up. Only then did he notice the door and understand. Turning to face the portal, he ran his hand experimentally over the smooth surface, attempting to discern how it opened.
…Not that it mattered terribly what the proper process was, considering his method remained the same. Still, it helped him determine exactly where to strike the door so that he wouldn't have to waste time prying it from its hinges.
One punch later, Geronimo carefully pushed the bent panel aside and allowed Chang to peek through the opened portal. Hearing the chef swallow a gasp, the giant silently braced himself while turning his own solemn gaze into the chamber.
Like the rooms before it, the laboratory was darkened, with all the overhead lights switched off. However, the dull, muted thrum of running equipment cut a steady undertone, and a pale light seemed to pulse from within the machine that dominated the center of the high-walled chamber.
At first, all Geronimo could tell for certain was that there was somebody inside the tank; it was difficult to make out anything more from where they stood in the doorway. The translucent gel that filled the container reduced the figure to a bare silhouette, a limp black shape against the sickly peach background.
Even so, he had a pretty good guess who it was.
Chang reached the same conclusion as his partner, and with a choked cry squeezed past and darted toward the tank. He paid no attention to how the taller cyborg was slower to move forward. The possibility of a trap didn't even register until he was well into the room, but since nothing appeared to happen, it hardly gave him pause.
The glass was ice under his hands, the cold suffusing his fingers almost the same moment that they met the smooth surface. By then, he was able to recognize the unconscious form of his friend sealed inside.
"007!" he shouted, banging a fist against the stubborn tank wall.
No response from the shapeshifter suspended within. Chang thought furiously for a moment, immediately discarding the half-crazed notion of using his fire-breath on the tank. There was no telling how the gel would react to open flame. Keeping his left hand pressed against the reinforced glass, Chang reached for the blaster holstered at his side.
The weight of a heavy hand on his shoulder stilled his arm. The chef looked up at the taller cyborg, the panic swelling in his chest subsiding just a little at his comrade's ever-stoic expression.
Stepping up beside 006, Geronimo gripped the sheet sealing the top of the tank and pulled. The sheet quickly buckled underneath his fingers, a low hiss signaling that air was escaping the container. Within moments the seal was completely broken, and 005 tossed the ruined lid off to one side, letting it strike the floor with a resounding clang.
Carefully he reached inside. Pinkish slime rose and trickled over the sides of the vessel, displaced by his thick forearms. Ignoring the chill substance, Geronimo gingerly lifted Britain to the surface. Wires snapped or slid free of where they'd been attached to the shapeshifter's body, and Chang leaned over the edge just enough to tear the breathing mask off of his friend's face. The firebreather nearly fell directly into the tank himself because of this, but managed to catch his balance in time. Clinging somewhat precariously to the side, he watched, worrying, as Geronimo lifted Britain's limp body out of the tank.
"007?" After a few seconds ticked by with no response from the shapeshifter, Chang tried again, more concern leaking into his voice: "…007? …G.B.?"
~ * ~
One thing Britain had learned quickly during his captivity: the dreams never came when he was inside the tank.
It was as if all of his senses were taken away at once: the chill of the strange gel quickly settled into his skin, until it was like his own body simply ceased to exist. There was no light, no air, no sound… nothing left. Nothing…
At one time this might have scared him. Now, Britain welcomed it.
It was so easy to lose himself in the darkness… So easy to slip away, away from the waking world and all its horrors…
How wonderful it would be, if he could just stay there forever, without ever having to worry about waking back up…
But that was a fantasy that continued to be dispelled, and every time he would be dragged from that serene state by chill hands, reawakening to the same gruesome visage leering overhead. Always, Black Ghost was there, the first thing he saw when emerging from the void.
Always, Black Ghost was there… the same cruel taunts cutting through his thoughts, the same pinpricks of agony bursting through his skin…
Already, he felt sensation begin to return, and knew with bleak certainty that the dark master would be standing there, waiting for Britain to sense his presence. Then the laughter would start, and the pain…
His back came to rest against something hard; he felt it settle against his body, pulling him up, out of the darkness. Silently he whimpered, wishing he had the strength to resist so that he could slip back into the calm numbness… but it was inevitable.
The unwanted caress of air, the sensation of being lifted and held tightly in someone's arms… Britain didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to see that ivory sneer, the sickly golden eyes.
The longer he went without acknowledging that dark presence, he knew, the harsher the punishment would be. But since Black Ghost was going to assert his control over 007's body anyway, what was the harm in delaying it just a few seconds longer…?
Garbled words reached his ears; despite his resolution Britain soon flinched at the grating sound. As feeling returned to his body, he became acutely aware of the gel that remained clinging to his skin. It dribbled down in rivulets, along the side of his face.
A trickle soon found its way into his mouth, and that forced him to cough, until he was hacking miserably. Instinctively he tried to draw his folding body closer together, shifting to his side as coughs racked his frame. Trembling, he knew the pain would return at any second…
………Only it didn't happen right away.
It took a few seconds after his choking fit began to die down for it to register with Britain that something was different. The only pain he felt was a dull ache in his chest from the hacking; the uniform hadn't started to constrict yet. The arms holding him weren't even tightening their grasp: why wasn't Black Ghost punishing his insolence in ignoring him yet?
Reluctantly, Britain cracked his eyes open, blinking to keep the final remnants of the slime out of his eyes.
The face just overhead was a blur, yet there was no confusing it with the ebony skeleton mask he'd already become accustomed to seeing upon awakening.
(…Zero-zero…five…?)
It was a testament to just how much circumstances had altered the shapeshifter that seeing Geronimo's face come into focus above him didn't fill Britain with indescribable joy and relief.
Instead, his eyes widened with surprise, the pupils swiftly dilating as vague comprehension sharpened into horror.
(If he's here, then the others…)
"007!" Britain didn't need to see the speaker to know who it was, but still twisted around to stare down at Chang. "I'm so glad you're…"
But Britain was beyond listening. Fear overrode all other emotions -- fear not for himself, but for the others. Because… because if they were here, then it meant that…
With a choked cry he shoved away from Geronimo, only managing to twist away from his arms because the move startled the strongman. He hit the floor hard, a lightning jolt of pain shooting up his side, helping drive some of the lingering numbness out of his legs.
"007?!"
Chang tried to catch his friend's arm; Britain yanked it away and in his frenzy almost struck the chef across the face, catching himself in the nick of time. Awkwardly, the shapeshifter stumbled away, turning to face his friends even while backing up. Frantically he glanced around, spotting the doorway and wondering if he could slip past them…
Apparently sensing his intentions, Geronimo shifted his stance so that more of his weight rested on his heels. Strange as his friend's behavior was, somehow he was already beginning to understand what must be going through the transforming cyborg's mind. It was simple to read the naked fear on Britain's face.
Chang saw it too, but was less certain of how to react. Knowing only that he couldn't let his friend run away again, the chef shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other, staring at the shapeshifter with sympathy.
"007…"
"………Go…" Britain's own voice sounded too soft and weak in his own ears, robbed of any confidence or vigor it had once possessed. Swallowing painfully, he tried again, croaking out "……Go away, please… Don't come near me……"
"………" Chang shook his head in disbelief, never tearing his gaze away from what remained of his old friend. "…G.B., we… we're here to…"
He stepped forward; Britain backed into the corner, shaking his head violently.
"No… n-no…" Already Britain was dangerously close to bursting into tears, his chest heaving furiously as he fought for control over his shaking voice and shivering body. "Y-you can't… …Just run, please--! Before…"
But he felt the all-too-familiar prickling sensation across his skin, heard a low chuckle in the back of his head, and knew with a sudden crushing certainty that it was already too late.
Black Ghost knew. He knew that his old allies were there… they'd walked right into the trap, just as predicted.
Feeling his muscles tighten in response to the cruel prodding of his uniform, feeling control shift from himself to his dark master's hands, Britain responded in the only manner left to him -- the only way he could still defy Black Ghost.
"005, 006, look out--!"
007 lunged forward, leading with both clawed hands. Geronimo and Chang were already moving out of the way, the latter scrambling to one side and glancing terrified over his shoulder as the shapeshifter shot through the space where they'd been standing. There was a screech of metal, and he saw where the strike left slight furrows in the ground.
"007!" he screamed, staring in horror as his former friend lurched upright and turned to face them again. "007--!"
Britain's mouth worked soundlessly; the collar of his uniform was restricted now, barely allowing him enough slack to breathe. Black Ghost wouldn't allow him even the slightest amount of defiance during this battle. The rest of his body went rigid, dropping into a crouch that he could spring from at any moment, in any direction.
His poise was that of a true killing machine, so long as you ignored the stark terror on his face, the fear and agony in his widened, tear-brimmed eyes.
Chang couldn't ignore it. The fire-wielding cyborg stood frozen, staring torn at his former friend and ally. One hand hung uselessly beside his blaster; there was quite simply no way he could possibly bring himself to even draw it, despite the obvious threat.
Geronimo sensed that his partner was incapable of acting, and knew it was solely upon his shoulders to deal with this opponent. He couldn't blame Chang for this, for his own heart ached at the thought of fighting the shapeshifter.
But, there was no choice, and no time…
Taking the initiative, 005 sprung forward and moved to pin 007 down. His grasping hands missed their target, however, as the shapeshifter dropped bonelessly to the ground. Sharps claws closed viselike around the giant's leg; with a grunt of effort Geronimo yanked his leg free, and recovering quickly he seized his opponent by the chest.
The black fabric felt strange in his grasp, but that barely had time to register before 007 took advantage of his position. The smaller cyborg whipped his right arm back, then brought the twisting limb back in a nasty arc that cracked against the outside of Geronimo's arm.
Geronimo winced, and couldn't contain his cry when the whip transmuted into a blade, digging deeper into his forearm.
"005!" Chang cried, shocked out of his stupor and running over.
Rather than allow the shapeshifter to capitalize further on his closeness, Geronimo threw him backwards, and clamped his other hand over his injury. A dark crimson spread slowly along the length of the torn sleeve, more visible than the other, clear liquids seeping from the wound.
Landing in front of the tank, Britain stood up straight. His posture was stiff and almost proud, almost mocking, but his face remained a mask of agony as he stared in horror at his handiwork.
Then, as Geronimo and Chang watched warily, he moved again. But instead of pressing the attack, the shapeshifter merely raised his right hand in front of his face. It was back to its normal shape, though coated with scarlet liquid where it had plunged into Geronimo's side.
To their utter astonishment, 007 pressed the bloodied fingertips to his mouth.
This clearly took Britain off guard as well: his already widened eyes bulged for a moment, then filled with revulsion and, it seemed, a flash of anger that wasn't directed at the other cyborgs. Keeping his lips tightly shut, he seemed to shudder with disgust, though his body remained perfectly rigid and his hand continued to press against his mouth.
Chang felt sick to his stomach, not merely because of this action, but because with a sudden flash of insight he understood exactly what it implied. Not only was his friend being controlled, but now, it was even more painfully obvious that whoever was doing so had a sick sense of humor.
…And they didn't have complete control yet, either. But… how…
Abruptly Britain's body gave a painful-looking jerk, his side contorting sharply as the skin along his stomach seemed to ripple. His mouth snapped open in a strangled scream, then he spat and choked at the bitter taste of blood in his mouth, fresh tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
Chang gasped, and unconsciously grabbed onto Geronimo's hand.
(…that uniform…)
"Ze…zero-zero-five!" he hissed under his breath. "The… that…"
Geronimo inclined his head slightly, signaling he understood. He, too, had seen the violent pulse -- moreover, he'd felt the unusual texture of the fabric under his hands. Taking into account how the shapeshifter was acting so differently from before, when the virus had controlled him… it was clear something had changed.
Gathering himself before the shapeshifter could recover, Geronimo lunged forward again, and this time Chang sprang after him. 007 was unprepared for both to attack at once, and though he dodged to one side, one of the giant's massive hands soon closed over his shoulder.
Britain stared at his friends, his eyes wide and wild, clearly confused. Geronimo wrapped his arms tightly around the squirming shapeshifter, and Chang fumbled to hang onto one of his hands, trying to find a seam in the black fabric.
But his probing fingers found nothing, and within seconds 005 found himself hard-pressed to hang onto 007, for while he'd ceased struggling, jagged black spikes were beginning to erupt from his skin where it was pressed against the strongman's.
"…L-let go!" Britain choked out, staring pleadingly up at Geronimo's face. He could see the stress and pain beginning to flood across the giant's stoic features as the barbs dug deeper into his skin, and fear restored his voice enough for him to sob, "Stop it…!"
Finally, the pain was too much, and Geronimo was forced to loosen his grip. The shapeshifter immediately twisted to one side, and his left hand closed over Chang's neck. The firebreather didn't even have enough time to cry out in shock before he was wrenched off his feet and thrown away, slamming into the wall beyond the tank.
He slumped to the ground, gasping, and dimly heard the thud of something landing directly in front of him. Then there was a sharp pressure at his neck again, and he felt himself being lifted off the floor, using the wall for leverage.
His vision cleared enough for him to see Britain staring at him. The shapeshifter was sobbing freely, tears rolling down his cheeks while his fingers dug into his friend's neck.
Chang couldn't see where Geronimo was anymore, but somehow sensed that they were on the far side of the room. He could see the tank over the slope of Britain's shoulder, giving him some reference of where they were.
The pressure at his neck was terrible, but not nearly as intolerable as the torn expression on his former friend's face as the shapeshifter's arm arced backward in preparation to deal the final blow.
"…G.…G.B.…" he gasped out, trying desperately to will strength back to his unresponsive body. If he could just move, then maybe…
There was a flash of something in Britain's eyes, though it was hard for Chang to tell what it was. Already his vision blurred dizzily, a slight blackness creeping along the very edges.
Then the raised limb blurred, and Chang felt his eyes go wide. Suddenly, the pain in his neck seemed negligible, lessening substantially.
Britain maintained eye contact with his friend, a few more tears sliding down his cheeks as he took in the incomprehension playing over the chef's face.
"…sorry…" he whispered.
The pressure at Chang's neck went completely slack, and the fire-wielding cyborg slumped to the floor, staring numbly at Britain. The shapeshifter swayed slightly, then his legs folded beneath him and he fell to the ground as well.
Britain's right hand remained pressed against his side, the claws still buried in his stomach. The black uniform began to darken further, a stain swelling around where it had been torn.
Chang stared, feeling a scream build in his sore, constricted throat. The pressure building in his chest was unbearable, but, somehow, he found himself unable to let it out. All he could do was stare silently, the corners of his eyes burning.
Geronimo made it over to where they were just seconds later, and took in the situation immediately. With a tightly controlled mask of calmness falling over his features, he knelt beside the pair.
Gently he turned Britain over, dark eyes flashing as he studied the wound. The shapeshifter's fingers remained tightly embedded in the flesh, and he didn't dare try wrenching it free just yet: even if he fashioned a tourniquet from his scarf, the amount of blood he'd lose once the blocking fingers were removed…
Instead, he lifted the shuddering 007 into his arms, noting with alarm how quickly Britain's face was turning ashen. More disturbing, however, was the faint smile on the shapeshifter's lips despite the pain he was undoubtedly in.
Or maybe it was because of the pain he was in…
…There wasn't any time to consider it.
Standing swiftly, Geronimo relayed a curt message to the rest of the cyborgs: [(We found 007. He's badly hurt. We're taking him back to the Dolphin…)]
"006," he called to his partner, gazing down at the stout cyborg. His expression was stern, but not without sympathy. "Let's go."
Chang nodded numbly, hardly able to acknowledge his comrade's words. He rose unsteadily to his feet and fumbled after the strongman, putting one foot in front of the other almost mechanically. Geronimo was already out the door by the time he reached it, but the fire-wielder still stopped there and peered back into the room.
The tank was still sitting there silently, surrounded by puddles of gel and occasional patches of darker liquid. Chang stared at it for a long moment, the dull incomprehension on his face gradually changing to sorrow, fear… and then a fierce, boiling anger.
The pressure building inside his chest snapped, and Chang howled his rage, unleashing a torrent of flames into the room. The white-hot blaze engulfed the tank instantly, and a sickening smell immediately swept back and choked the fire-breather, making him cough and stumble backwards.
Eyes burning from smoke and other factors, Chang choked miserably, turned on his heel, and took off down the hallway after his comrades. Behind him, the fire spread swiftly, until the laboratory was completely consumed by the flames.
