Disclaimers can be found back in the first chapter. A bit of explanation: the events in this chapter and the previous installment take place mostly simultaneously, which should be obvious when you're reading… If you're still confused after reading this installment, just contact me via the e-mail in my profile, and I'll try explaining in more detail…
~ * Explosion * ~
Jet would have greatly preferred going solo for this mission.
Rather than waste time arguing about it, he'd headed off as soon as they got into the base, ignoring how the rest reacted. After all this time, they should know better than to get in his way once he'd made up his mind, anyway!
He hadn't been too surprised that somebody decided to follow; someone had to 'keep an eye' on the 'hot-headed kid' so that he didn't get in over his head, right? Never mind that he didn't need or want anybody else tagging along.
About the only thing he was grateful for was that it was just Pyunma following him. Jet definitely didn't need to have, say, Joe tailing him right now. Not only was he angry enough with his so-called leader as it was, just the thought of still having to listen to his whining and wavering about what they might have to do…
…Joe would sooner die than commit to such a solution. And that was liable to be exactly what happened if it came down to that…
In fact, Jet had a sneaking suspicion that he was the only one willing to follow through if that particular solution became necessary. Oh, he didn't enjoy the concept by any means, but that hardly factored in at this point.
…If he had been turned against the others in the same way, Jet would have preferred to die at someone else's hands, too. Anything was better than being subverted like that…
So far, the drones he'd come across while tearing through the base were hardly any real match for the furious cyborg. There wasn't any time to waste drawing out combat, especially with such obvious cannon fodder. Jet tore through the robot soldiers with relative ease; experience with such models helped him capitalize on certain weak points, and the small groups they patrolled in were far from a threat.
Occasionally he heard laser shots wailing behind him, another reminder of his 'partner' for this mission. Jet wasn't too worried about Pyunma; 008 was capable of taking care of himself, even disregarding that 002 was more or less ripping the guards apart anyway. He didn't know what was more annoying: the fact that Pyunma insisted on tagging along or the fact that his firing meant there were still active grunts being left in the aerodynamic cyborg's wake.
Decimating another trio of guards, Jet charged through the doorway they had been blocking and found himself standing at the bottom of a stairwell. The flights of steps hugged the walls, leading up the dizzying shaft. Jet had to crane his neck back in order to see where they ended.
The redhead smirked humorlessly and ignited the boosters in his legs, shooting up the center of the passage. They cut off just after he cleared the platform near the top, and his feet had barely touched the ground before he forced the door open and was through.
Pyunma arrived just in time to catch sight of his partner slipping through the door. Grimacing, the dark-skinned cyborg muttered a curse, then started up the stairs, taking the steps two and three at a time.
~ * ~
Black Ghost knew of the rebels' arrival. Once the would-be rescuers had slipped through the doors so conveniently left open for them, he was aware of their every move. It was simple to monitor their progress thanks to the cameras secreted in practically every corner.
Nothing happened within these walls that he wasn't aware of. Just as it was at so many other bases scattered across the globe, just as it would one day be worldwide. Just as it should be…
He was aware of Mimic's failure, how the trap she'd set for the cyborgs nearly resulted in her own destruction. While he was far from pleased with the shapeshifter's poor performance and retreat, it was little more than a minor source of irritation by this point. All it meant was that she would need certain repairs after the cyborgs were properly neutralized.
Black Ghost didn't even bother keeping track of her location. More important now was dealing with the rebellion's pitiful infiltration attempt.
As for the pair Mimic unsuccessfully tried to destroy, Black Ghost had already redirected several patrols to where she'd left them. Ultimately, it wouldn't matter how many waves 004 and 009 might manage to dispatch despite their wounded condition: there were always more drones he could send.
Robots, after all, were completely disposable. So were cyborgs, to a certain extent… If one or two of the prototypes ended up getting killed during this assault, his scientists could still gather useful information by studying their corpses.
Chuckling to himself, Black Ghost turned his attention to one of the larger screens before him. This particular display was an overhead view of one of the many laboratories, though this one held what was perhaps the most important project housed in this stronghold.
While it was quiet now, he knew from his observations that two of the invaders were getting ever closer to discovering its location. Once they arrived, the trap could be sprung at his leisure… He needed only to wait for the perfect moment.
Undoubtedly the cyborgs thought they were doing well to have gotten this far. Black Ghost sneered to himself, taking perverse delight in their imagined triumph. How delicious it would be, how delightful, to tear that supposed victory from their grasp and crush them under his heel where they belonged! He looked forward to breaking them as he had broken the shapeshifter… and, before that, the bleak realization on their faces as they came to recognize their place at last.
So he watched, face frozen in its perpetual smug grin, as 005 broke down the door to where 007 was held in stasis.
Even this was a calculated move on the tyrant's part. While it might have a good idea to have the shapeshifter waiting at his side and confront the rebels directly, Black Ghost found it just as effective to isolate him. No doubt the cyborgs had been half-expecting to face both the commander and his puppet together.
However, he wanted something to be made perfectly clear to the renegades before their subjugation: his control over their former comrade was complete and absolute. He didn't need to be present in person to flaunt his authority. He wouldn't even need to project his image before them.
All that mattered was that 007 heard, felt and understood his commands, and was forced to obey.
He watched as 006 broke and scurried over to the tank, briefly pitying the fact that he hadn't placed any extra weaponry. The portly cyborg made a tempting target regardless of his plan to capture as many of the rebels as possible; his flagrant disregard for the possibility of traps was a little annoying. He filed that little bit of information away for future reference: the fire-thrower would need training to become better aware of his surroundings.
005 followed more slowly, using the caution his partner had failed to show. Black Ghost observed with no small amount of smug pride how the giant moved, commending the prototype warrior on his efficiency. He worked quickly and effectively, taking stock of the situation before acting accordingly… He wouldn't need as much training as prototype 006 clearly required.
The strongman cracked the container open and lifted his former ally out. 006 struggled to assist in his own bumbling fashion, though it was obvious there was little he could do at this juncture. The manner in which he hovered about was almost humorous; if the mask serving as Black Ghost's face could move, he surely would have been grinning cruelly at the pitiful sight by this time.
The tyrant's bulbous eyes glinted stained gold, and he chuckled deeply, waiting for his puppet to stir.
He didn't have to wait long before he got the first stirrings of feedback. He saw the shapeshifter shift his weight, coughing, trying to draw into himself, and could all but predict the path his thoughts would take. Foremost was fear, anticipation of the pain that was surely coming… Another testimony to how effective his rehabilitation was thus far.
Then, confusion at the unexpected delay… Feeling continued to return, unaccompanied by pain for once, and with a measure of control he'd rarely been allowed since his reprogramming began, 007 turned his head enough to see the face of who towered above him instead of Black Ghost.
Black Ghost saw the comprehension on the transforming cyborg's face swiftly turn to terror, and nodded in self-satisfaction. He watched 007 pull away from his former friends, and had to resist the urge to laugh aloud, opting to give him a few moments more before making his move.
There were sensors in the laboratory for picking up aural information to accompany the visual, so he heard 006 stammer out the shapeshifter's codename. Odd, how anyone could put such emotion into a number: just another example how they'd somehow managed to twist another fragment of their dehumanization around so surreally…
Black Ghost was honestly surprised when 007 mustered enough strength to respond; soft and weak as his voice came out, it was still more than he expected at this stage. The shapeshifter hadn't done much other than cry during his sessions, never speaking a word to anyone. Apparently seeing his former teammates was enough to restore his voice…
Well, that was as good a signal as any to assert his dominance.
Black Ghost had opted for the most direct form of control possible with their technology: it took only a thought for the suit to react. As the pinpricks that accompanied his commands began spreading across the shapeshifter's skin, he felt 007's dismay and terror sharpen, almost tangible over the link he opened.
He laughed, knowing that it echoed clearly through his puppet's fractured mind, amused by his reaction.
{(Did you really think you could prevent this, 007? Your 'friends' refuse to listen to you… they only want to help… but you're the one who will be helping them back to where they belong…)}
007 screamed -- not merely through the link, but in real life, warning his former allies in time for both to avoid his first lunge, a maneuver that should have taken them completely off guard.
Feeling the slightest twinge of annoyance at that, but not allowing it to show, Black Ghost merely tightened his grasp further. He knew instinctively just how much pressure to apply to cut off the transforming cyborg's voice without choking him to death. The growing despair swelling from his puppet was almost reward enough in itself, and he continued to taunt him softly, constantly whispering reminders of his weakness.
{(You are nothing without me, cyborg, nothing. Completely worthless -- think of how you were wasting your gifts before! You couldn't defend yourself, or anyone else, but now… now, you can fight. Now, you can kill…)}
Black Ghost was patient; rather than goad the shapeshifter into pressing the offensive again, he dropped him into a defensive stance and waited for one of the others to attack. All the while, he continued to press mercilessly, driving on:
{(…And you want to kill, don't you? You'd love to kill these two, wouldn't you?)}
006 was staring wide-eyed, frozen and useless. Black Ghost was tempted to dismiss the fire-breather as unimportant; judging from his partner's stance 005 seemed more likely to react first. Still, he monitored both carefully even while seamlessly continuing his rant:
{(Or would you rather have them join you like this, 007? You could be teammates again, same as it was always meant to be, before your pathetic attempt at rebellion inconvenienced my plans…)}
He didn't need the link to sense the shapeshifter's absolute horror at that concept. Sneering to himself, seeing 005 shift his weight again and sensing he was about to act, the tyrant drove his point home, taking delight in striking again at 007's wretched human weaknesses.
{(I'll let you decide, 007 -- Do you want to kill them yourself, or have them join you?)}
005 moved to grab 007, but the transforming cyborg dropped underneath the giant's arms and seized hold of his leg instead. Black Ghost toyed with the combat for a bit, choosing to let opportunities to counter present themselves rather than pressing for them. He saw a fine example when 005 finally managed to grab his opponent, and in a flash turned the tables, wounding the giant's arm.
He wasn't surprised when the strongman threw him backwards, recovering easily from the throw. With the brief lull in the battle the tyrant decided to repeat his question, wanting to force a response from his puppet.
{(First blood, 007… To kill or not to kill…? Whatever you want…)}
In truth, Black Ghost was actually willing to follow through with that promise, if only to see what the shapeshifter's reaction was. While it would be a pity to destroy 005 and 006, both prototypes were ultimately disposable. Also, giving 007 the ability to choose their fate… regardless of his decision, simply the fact that he'd made it would surely shatter what remained of his foolish resistance.
Feeling the shapeshifter hesitate, Black Ghost forced his bloodied fingertips to his mouth, amused by the waves of revulsion and dismay that followed. 007 was his tool, his puppet, and the sooner he came to realize that and fully accept it, the easier it would be to maintain that perfect control…
The door directly across from Black Ghost buckled and burst open, shot off its tracks. Unperturbed, not relaxing his grip for a moment, the commander studied the cyborg that stood revealed there with glowing golden eyes.
"Ah, welcome, 002," he greeted the newcomer smoothly, without even a hint of annoyance entering his voice.
Jet answered by opening fire, aiming directly for where the tyrant's heart should have been. But Black Ghost glided effortlessly to one side, letting the lasers cut into the equipment lining the walls instead. Even now, he felt nothing more than mild annoyance at the disturbance: one cyborg alone wasn't enough to disrupt his plans.
Still keeping tabs on what was happening in the laboratory so far removed from where they were via the link, Black Ghost moved to deal with the situation at hand.
Jet wasn't standing idle; the boosters in his legs activated immediately after he started firing, and he swooped to the right, anticipating a counterattack. The blaster gripped in both hands kept firing endlessly, bolts tearing into everything save his target, much to his utter frustration.
He wasn't even thinking coherently anymore, driven by only three concepts: (Keep moving; don't stop; kill him!)
But there wasn't much room for maneuvering in the control room, even for someone with jets in his legs, and Black Ghost had the advantage of a cool head and complete control over his reaction.
The first bolt of purple lightning caught Jet full in the chest as he lunged overhead, robbing the breath from his lungs. The second nearly took his hand off, and sent the blaster he'd been gripping so tightly flying from smoking fingers. He landed hard on his back, several feet away, and tried to grab for it, only to get knocked backward by a third shot to the chest that slammed him into the wall.
"Pathetic."
Another blast of energy completely engulfed its target -- not the red-haired hawk slumped against the wall, but the silver pistol lying useless on the ground. The electricity completely overloaded the blaster, leaving it drained and worthless; even if the cyborg mustered enough strength to try and reclaim it, it wouldn't do any good now.
Threat neutralized, Black Ghost turned his full attention back to the drama unfolding elsewhere, ready to add his touches where they were needed. 005 and 006 had rallied for another attack, with the giant wrapping his arms around the struggling shapeshifter. Black Ghost brought an end to that hapless resistance at once, capitalizing on the closeness by reshaping 007's skin into spikes.
007 found his voice again; Black Ghost heard him begging for release, and laughed, both aloud and over the link.
{(Does that mean you'd rather recruit him, 007?)} he taunted. As expected, he felt his pawn quail mentally from the thought, and mercilessly added, {(Or will you kill him? End his suffering with your own hands? It's up to you…)}
In the corner, Jet groaned and stirred; Black Ghost spared him a glance while debating the merits of sending another blast of lightning his way. Even while mulling this over, he kept pressing the shapeshifter for a reply, eager to have him snap. One way or the other, he'd have his puppet completely broken shortly…
The situation shifted as 005 loosened his grip; apparently even his reinforced steel skin could only take so much. Black Ghost forced 007 into immediate action; seeing 006's guard lowered, he made his puppet seize hold of the fire-breather and throw him against the far wall, following that up with a chokehold to the neck.
{(I grow weary of this game,)} he growled at the shapeshifter. {(Choose or I will choose for you!)}
He didn't specify which option he intended to take; he was willing to go either way. Intelligence had shown that 006 and 007 seemed to consider each other friends; perhaps the other cyborg's death would be shock enough to break his toy…
The familiar thin wail of a laser blast caught his attention, a beam of light streaking toward his face.
Though a shield of energy dispelled the shot without incident, Black Ghost still felt real annoyance as he looked over to its source: another cyborg had arrived. The brief glance he got before the new arrival ducked back behind the door confirmed his identity: 008.
The aquatic specialist wasn't charging in blindly as his comrade had. Though he surely must have noticed where 002 lay crumpled on the floor, he didn't rush to his side. That would have been suicide, for there was no cover he might have used to even get closer. The closest thing to shelter was the doorway itself, and so 008 plastered himself against the other side, mind undoubtedly racing to formulate a plan on how best to counter the situation.
Black Ghost was not about to give him time to consider any options, real or imagined.
The commander felt real aggravation at the disruption, minor as it was. There was nothing 008 could do; he and his allies were already defeated, grasping at straws. Within moments the fate of one of their own would be sealed, and Black Ghost wanted to revel in that victory, in the despair and resignation that would follow.
Besides, the combat expert had made one very fatal error: he assumed the steel wall would be strong enough to protect him from Black Ghost's wrath.
It took only an instant to increase the power of the electricity he used from the mild bolts that had incapacitated 002 to the full charge he used to punish those that displeased him. Golden eyes flashed crimson, and violet energy surged toward the door, blowing apart the steel and electronics that stood between him and his target like paper.
A choked scream, followed by a thud, rewarded his effort. Chortling, Black Ghost once again returned to goading his puppet, making one final demand before following through with his own decision regarding 006's fate:
{(Now, 007, choose--!)}
But before he could complete his demand, Black Ghost found out he'd made a tiny error of his own.
Snarling with unrestrained fury, Jet slammed into the tyrant at full throttle, heels spouting white flames. Pyunma's arrival had helped spurred his recovery; witnessing his comrade's defeat was all the impetus he needed to go completely over the edge and throw the one weapon he had remaining at Black Ghost: himself.
More than ever, Jet simply wanted his enemy dead, even if he had to tear him limb from limb with his bare hands.
There was no reason behind the insane attack at all: just the simple, primal urge to kill. Blindly he clawed, gouged, tore at the cloaked man, dimly registering grim pleasure at the simple fact that he'd actually managed to catch the damnably smug bastard off guard.
Black Ghost couldn't deal with him and maintain control of the shapeshifter. Concentration shattered, he answered Jet's roar with an enraged snarl of his own: "You dare--?!"
They hit the wall, and Jet slammed the tyrant's head into the screen behind him. Electricity tore into his torso, but he ignored the pain -- no, it only fueled the rage, the crimson hatred flowing faster through his veins at the burning in his chest. He punched and clawed, choking on his own fury, gouging, tearing, trying to rip the madman before him to shreds.
Then, suddenly, the pain in his chest dulled to a throb, the energy dying away. Once that was gone, some of the rage started to abate as well, enough that some form of awareness returned to the battlelust-crazed cyborg. The wild fervor faded from his flashing bronze eyes -- not completely gone, but reduced to churning just beneath the surface as he stared down at his enemy.
The right side of Black Ghost's face, the side he'd slammed into the terminal again and again, was smashed almost beyond recognition. The bulbous golden eye was shattered, reduced to a few shards of yellow glass, and exposed behind that was… circuitry. Snapped and sparking wires, gray and black metal.
(A robot…?! Or cyborg…)
More of the battle-rage drained away at the realization: the monster Jet had been fighting… was little more than another of Black Ghost's puppets, his proxies. A substitute for the real mastermind, allowing him to watch over one of his projects without exposing himself to any danger.
Even as that cognizance washed over him, a familiar voice piped in the back of his mind, making an announcement that made his blood run cold, a further shock to his system. 005… telling everyone that 007 was…
The damaged creature still pinned beneath 002 sputtered, drawing Jet's attention back down to it. Though half its face was caved in, the perpetual white skeleton smirk was still recognizable on the undamaged portion of its mask, and a hollow, metallic laugh issued from the eternal leer.
"…Fail…failure… I've still won, you fool… you see…? H-how many of your friends are de…"
Feeling another outraged scream burning his throat, Jet bit his lip hard and closed his hands over the cyborg's neck. One twist and this version of Black Ghost was silenced forever.
He'd won. He'd won…
…Funny. He didn't feel victorious.
Rising unsteadily to his feet, Jet cast one final glance at the limp, busted figure lying before him. Bile seemed to rise in his throat, and he couldn't resist the urge to spit at the damnable face before turning away.
He stooped to collect his gun, shoving it into its holster disgustedly. Useless, now, but maybe it could be fixed, later…
He almost ran, almost jogged, really, over to the door, but slowed his pace before stepping outside. Pyunma was lying against the far wall, half-pinned beneath the wreckage of what had been the wall just by the door… though that probably wasn't why the dark-skinned cyborg wasn't moving. Jet crouched and shoved it aside, carefully turning his partner over, sharp copper eyes searching for wounds.
Thankfully, 008's chest still moved, rising and falling in time with his faint, labored breathing. Just the fact that he was breathing brought a grain of relief to the red-haired hawk.
"Damnit, 008…" he muttered just the same, shaking his head.
Hefting the limp form of his comrade as carefully as he could, Jet propped Pyunma up against his shoulder. Noticing the combat specialist's blaster lying on the ground, he claimed it for himself, figuring it was better for somebody actually capable of using it to have it for now.
He stood up, left arm supporting his partner, holding the gun at the ready. Looking down the hall, running over the fastest possible way out of the base, Jet smirked coldly to himself and ignited the boosters in his heels.
"Time to go," he muttered, and took off down the hall with the unconscious Pyunma in his arms.
