All the important general disclaimers are located back in the first chapter. This installment ended up being divided so that I could expand on events in both sections, so we haven't reached the end quite yet… sorry about that.
~ * Evacuation * ~
After receiving G-Junior's short but frightening status report, Francoise immediately relayed the information to Doctor Gilmore, and quickly decided it was time to move. As risky as moving the Dolphin deeper into enemy waters was, it was infinitely more important to ensure the safe return of the rest of their crew.
Keeping the female cyborg on board the ship had its advantages: Francoise recalled perfectly the path the others had used to approach the base, and was able to help guide the Dolphin along roughly the same course. At times like these, she found it considerably easier to accept the 'gifts' bestowed by her conversion.
Still, the blonde's pretty face was lined with tension as the warcraft made its way towards the underwater fortress. She strained to pick up any signs of movement, all too aware that an ambush could be waiting somewhere in the murky waters. While the Dolphin was equipped to defend itself in such situations, since they were currently operating with only two active members on board, they would have to seriously scramble to counter any attack.
Doctor Gilmore stood in the middle of the bridge for precisely that reason. Ivan's bassinet sat comfortably on the chair beside him. The scientist watched her work in silence; for the moment, this resolute, alert woman bore little resemblance to the delicate ballerina she had once been. The competency and resolve she showed somehow caused the doctor's heart to twist with grief and swell with pride at the same time.
"Do you see anything, 003?" he asked softly, not wanting to distract her.
"Nothing yet," came the tense reply, as aquamarine eyes continued to survey their surroundings with minute precision.
The scientist sighed quietly, but neither relaxed their guard, as the Dolphin drew ever closer to the enemy stronghold. The tension that had filled the ship since the departure of their comrades only increased with each passing moment. Both prayed that they would arrive in time to make a difference, no matter how small…
~ * ~
(Must hurry, must hurry…)
Keys clacked rapid-fire, creating an almost deafening racket when compared to the grim silence that hung over the rest of the laboratory. The man hunched over the terminal worked feverishly, not wanting to spend a second longer than was necessary retrieving the required files.
Once again, Black Ghost had misjudged the accursed 00-number renegades. And, once again, those in his employ found themselves hard-pressed to deal with the aftermath.
Their commander had overestimated the amount of time it would take for the rebels to arrive at the underwater fortress. Ideally, they should have been able to evacuate all human personnel prior to the renegades' arrival; unfortunately this turned out not to be the case. A handful of scientists still remained on-site, though all save one were already gathered at the predetermined escape vessel.
Doctor Williamson's current run of bad luck seemed determined to continue, much to his dismay. Before they had a chance to depart, Black Ghost had contracted the group and announced that he expected someone to return and retrieve certain files from their databanks. It was a precautionary measure, one that logically should have been completed before the situation got this bad; however, nobody ever pointed out flaws in their commander's reasoning.
…Plus there was the niggling little detail that Williamson wasn't entirely certain this was an oversight on Black Ghost's part. He had been ordered on this mission directly; somehow he had emerged in the eyes of his master as the representative of his little group.
Standing out was often a terrible burden in the shadow organization. Unless you were a high-ranking officer in your own right, to be singled out by the masked tyrant often resulted in horrible consequences. It was no mere coincidence that most of the names commonly recognized by the typical employee belonged to those who had been made an example of. Mentioning one of those names to your comrades resulted in shaking heads and mutterings about the poor fool's fate.
(…Did you hear about what happened to Williamson? …Poor wretch…)
Biting the inside of his lip, Williamson worked faster, tapping his fingers impatiently against the top of the keyboard while waiting for the last of the files to be transferred over to disc. With all the latest technology in the world at their fingertips, why oh why did they still have to struggle with systems that seemed slower than they ought to be…?!
He took little comfort in the fact that the others couldn't leave before he got back to the ship. Black Ghost had made it clear that he expected them to depart only with copies of the requested data in hand. Escaping without it was meaningless; the survivors would only live up to the point where he checked in on them and discovered their defiance of direct orders…
But that didn't mean the temptation wasn't there. Williamson couldn't exactly blame his coworkers if they happened to crack under the pressure -- not that it would do him any good if they did, of course! The nature of their organization seemed against the formation of friendship between workers.
The thin bar measuring the length of the download was almost completely filled. Just a few seconds more, then he could grab the disc and go…
The exit hissed open, and Williamson spun around to gape at the figure standing beyond the portal. His heart pounded frantically against his chest, its harsh rate scarcely slowing as recognition sparked in his bulging eyes.
"Y…you…"
He somehow managed to force the stunned whisper out of his constricted throat. The computer pinged softly behind him, signaling the completion of his task. That barely registered with the scientist, despite the urgency of his mission -- temporarily pushed to the back of his mind while he struggled to process the image before him, and all its implications.
Some sick impulse of curiosity or his meticulous scientist's nature kept his gaze riveted mostly on the creature's face. He recalled some of its features clearly -- the same face seemed to haunt his worst imaginings lately -- but only part remained close to what he remembered. Vicious wounds pockmarked the right side, stretching over what had once been pale and unblemished skin. Scraggly ebony bangs helped conceal the horrific sight of an eye closed by swollen sores, while its mate blazed peridot hellfire on the less damaged left side.
That single eye focused upon Williamson, and the shapeshifter's thin lips tugged upward in what was either a leer or a grimace.
"Doctor…" Mimic's voice came out in a low rasp, grating on the petrified man's burning ears. "Doctor…"
She lurched forward, taking first one halting step toward him, then another. The shapeshifter could have closed the distance between them within seconds, but instead took her time.
Williamson almost understood why. Some part of his mind that wasn't spewing out frightened gibberish at a rate that matched his heartbeat noted that the cyborg's perception was undoubtedly marred by her ruined eye. He could pick out several wounds on her slender, black-clad body, and knew without a doubt they resulted from some encounter with the renegades.
Still, that didn't give him the confidence to try running away. Williamson knew Mimic's capabilities all too well: his hand in her creation was to thank for that, no matter how little the knowledge helped at this moment. Only one tiny detail gave him the slightest bit of hope, and he fumbled clumsily through his lab coat as the shapeshifter drew ever closer.
Finally his fingers closed over a slender object. Williamson felt a hysterical smile spread across his lips, and he looked sharply back at the approaching cyborg. The triumphant, feverish gleam in his eyes actually caused her to pause, the vaguest hint of confusion sparking in the undamaged green iris.
Pulling out the black metal cylinder, Williamson held it out in front of him like a warding talisman. He propped himself up against the table behind him with his free hand, trying to steady himself much in the same way he fought to stabilize his voice before daring to speak.
"St…stay right where you are," he commanded; despite his newfound resolve the doctor's voice still trembled slightly, betraying the fear that still clenched his heart. Nudging his fingernail under the protective sheath, he popped it open to reveal the button concealed inside, and moved his thumb over it. "Or, so help me, I'll…"
Mimic narrowed her good eye, glaring stonily at the shivering coward. She made no further move toward him, but her arms remained slightly upraised, hands morphed into curved talons.
"…I take it that's my control unit?" she inquired testily.
Williamson hoped his expression didn't betray how flummoxed he was by that simple query. To the best of his knowledge, Mimic had been kept ignorant of the measures taken to ensure her continued loyalty to the organization. They had feared that should the cyborg learn of their precautions, she might discover a way to circumvent them, and then…
He took a deep breath, calming himself. She had been allowed to witness some of the other shapeshifter's rehabilitation, despite his private reservations on that decision. So it shouldn't have come as such a surprise that she'd drawn her own conclusions based on what she'd seen.
"…Actually, that's not precisely the case. If you're thinking of the system we used to control the other one… Well, that's partially based on the technology used in your situation, but that's also quite a bit more advanced. For you, things were done a bit simpler."
His insight helped give him strength, allowing him to take a small measure of pride in what he understood that the shapeshifter failed to comprehend. Though Mimic's ruined face remained neutral, he imagined he could see more confusion and frustration in her expression than she actually showed.
A slightly smug smile curled his lips, and Williamson pulled himself up straighter, forcing himself to face the creature he'd created.
"I press this, and your systems overload instantly. It's a much cruder tactic than the one we used with the other one, but based on the same principle. Besides, you're more disposable…"
The peridot eye fixed upon him narrowed further, and then, much to his astonishment, Mimic began to smile. Her smirk was twisted terribly by her mangled features, but even that wasn't as horrifying as the faint laugh that followed. Williamson stared at her, taken aback by her surreal reaction.
(…She's damaged worse than I thought,) he decided abruptly, repressing a shudder of terror. (There's no other way to explain it…)
…At least, there were no other ways to explain her reaction that he wanted to consider. Williamson fumbled to retrieve the disc from the computer behind him, never tearing his eyes from the insane shapeshifter.
Suddenly Mimic stopped laughing, cutting herself off as suddenly as she'd begun. Smirk twisting into a full-fledged leer, she advanced, taking another step toward the scientist.
Jerking backwards reflexively, Williamson suppressed a gasp and slammed his thumb down on the trigger still gripped tightly in his hand. All thoughts of keeping the cyborg alive for further study fled in the interest of self-preservation.
It only took a second for it to register in his fear-clouded mind that the shapeshifter wasn't dropping to the floor convulsing, as he'd expected. Instead, Mimic continued to move steadily closer, her pace completely unhurried.
"H-how…"
"You're an idiot, doctor." Her skin began to ripple slightly, currents coursing along the front of her chest and spreading along her limbs. The ebony began to bleed out of her body, replaced by bands of other shades as she hissed, "Did you really think that I'd keep wearing the stupid thing after seeing what it did to the other one…?"
Williamson's mouth dropped open, but he never got a chance to reply. Skin still pulsing wildly, Mimic lunged for the paralyzed scientist, ebony claws aimed for his chest and throat. There wasn't even a scream so much as a gurgled cry as blood splattered against the computer behind them.
~ * ~
Joe crouched behind the shattered hulks of a pair of robot drones he'd recently dispatched, trying to catch his breath before hurtling himself back into the fray.
How many of the android soldiers did that make…? He hadn't precisely been able to keep track of the amount he'd gunned down so far. All that really mattered was that they kept coming in droves, filing into the room that 009 and 004 were pinned down inside, heedless of how many of their comrades lined the floor.
A thud beside him signaled Albert's arrival; the blur of crimson, gold and silver was easily discernable from the green armor of their enemies, so Joe didn't immediately point his gun at his comrade. He barely even glanced at the German, focusing instead on the open door. So tantalizingly close, and yet, with soldiers arriving so frequently…
Already four more drones lumbered through the gate. Joe lined up his sights with the forehead of the one in the lead before standing up and firing. The magnum energy tore into metallic skin -- one, two, three shots and it was down, and so was Joe, ducking to avoid the counterattack launched by its companions.
Beside him, Albert hissed with frustration, causing the Japanese cyborg to shoot him a concerned glance. The German's left hand was folded over his stomach, doing little to conceal the telltale rips in his combat uniform, and he was glaring at the gunmetal gray fingers of his right. He didn't have to say anything to let Joe know of his latest problem.
Biting his lip, Joe silently acknowledged his own contribution to their dilemma: the charge on his blaster was dwindling, and he knew from experience that there weren't many shots left in the super gun.
He risked a glance back toward the door; the three remaining robots were being reinforced by another pair of guards. More were undoubtedly on the way, so even if they managed to wipe out this wave, or the next, it was only a short matter of time before they were completely overwhelmed.
They needed to get back to the others. From what Joe understood from the few short communiqués they'd received in the brief span of time following 005's announcement, Francoise was bringing the Dolphin around to where they'd first entered the complex. He wasn't about to send a distress message now; even if he told the others to leave without them, it would likely only bring those who weren't too injured to respond running, and he didn't want to risk everyone else's safety.
One idea for escaping had occurred to Joe, yet he was a little reluctant to take it. It wasn't concern for himself that made him hesitate, but for the more heavily wounded cyborg beside him. The gashes in Albert's stomach, while not too deep, were still long and jagged, thanks to the shapeshifter they'd fought. There wasn't any time to bind them up properly, and Joe wasn't certain they wouldn't be adversely affected by his plan.
Ironically, it was also anxiety over Albert's worsening condition that made him decide to take the risk.
"004, can you clear the way?" he hissed urgently under his breath.
Silver-blue eyes flicked briefly in his direction, and the German nodded curtly, no doubt already guessing his companion's intentions. His knee popped open with a sharp click, and he braced the limb with both hands, carefully taking aim before letting the missile fly.
The projectile landed perfectly in the midst of the handful of drones blocking the doorway, and as they were blown away the partners stood swiftly. Joe grabbed onto Albert, giving the silver-haired cyborg just enough time to wrap his arms around the younger man's torso before clicking his jaw.
Instantly his perception of time slowed, the smoke billowing from the smoking crater rising far more slowly than before. Joe sprang forward, Albert hanging on tightly as he darted out into the hallway and away from the guards.
This wasn't a trick Joe was able to pull often. If he'd attempted it with any human, the sudden velocity would have ripped their body to shreds. That precaution didn't apply to his fellow cyborgs, however.
He didn't emerge from acceleration mode until they reached a hallway that was clear of guards, mercifully close to their destination. Joe immediately turned to check on Albert, feeling the German's grip loosen after they came to a stop.
"You doing okay, 004?"
He sincerely hoped that it was only his imagination that the other's face seemed a shade paler than normal. Albert was folded over slightly, both arms pressing the tears in his jacket shut, but at least he was still standing.
"…I'm okay," he managed at length, straightening slightly and lurching forward. "Let's just get moving, okay?"
Joe nodded shortly in agreement, then turned and hurried down the hall, drawing his blaster again just in case he needed to use the last of its charge.
A dull roar thundered up behind them when they were just a few feet from the door. Both spun around in time to see Jet cut short the boosters in his heels and land expertly on both feet. Pyunma was weakly hanging onto the aerial fighter, one arm looped around the taller cyborg's neck. Both appeared to be badly beaten up; the front of Jet's uniform looked as if it had been scorched away, revealing his alarmingly blackened chest, and Pyunma looked like he was barely conscious.
"002?! 008?!" Joe blurted out when he saw their bedraggled state.
"Don't even start now, 009," spat Jet, narrowed bronze eyes flashing angrily beneath his tousled bangs. "Whine after we're outta here, okay?"
Joe snapped his jaw shut, not even registering the fact that he nodded numbly at the command until after they'd clambered into the docking area. The Dolphin was already waiting for them, having surfaced just enough for them to reach the entryway. Chang waved frantically to them from where he waited beside the hatch, and shouted for them to get on. He was barely understandable; the sentry's voice cracked in mid-sentence, and it was obvious from his manner the poor man was distracted.
Everyone clambered on board; Jet, the last to climb on, slammed the portal shut behind him and sealed it, feeling the Dolphin already begin to sink back underwater. He jumped down to join the others, already hearing the agitated Chang blabbering about where everyone else was.
"005 went to join 003 on the bridge, and Gilmore's already taken 007 to get repaired, but I don't know if -- I hope that -- Are you boys okay?! 004… your chest, and -- Jet, what happened to your…"
"Later," snarled the hawk, pushing past the others and making his way toward the bridge. A shadow fell over the top half of his face as he strode off, muttering, "Least we're getting out of this godforsaken…"
The rest of his words were lost to those left behind, growled too softly to be discernable to the remaining cyborgs. Albert sank into a seat with a sigh, gazing through half-lidded steel blue eyes at the ceiling. His inscrutable gaze tracked over to Pyunma when the aquatic expert followed his lead, dropping into a nearby chair and looking half-ready to pass out from exhaustion.
Joe understood the feeling, and would have moved to join them if it wasn't for the fact that Chang was still standing there looking absolutely lost. Though some of the sheer frantic energy he'd exhibited when shooing everyone inside had drained away, what remained in its place was a mixture of confusion, frustration, terror and overwhelming sorrow that tore at the sensitive leader's heart to behold.
"006…" he turned to fully face the chef, crouching slightly to be more on his shorter comrade's level. The fire-breather didn't appear to have any physical injuries, but that probably didn't matter in the least, considering the situation… Garnet eyes filled with sympathy, Joe softly asked, "Are you going to be okay…?"
"………I don't know." This was whispered softly, as Chang shook his head slowly at length.
"……… …006, I think everything's going to be alright now. We got out of there, didn't we…?" Joe attempted a comforting smile, but it seemed to be lost on Chang, so he continued tentatively, "I know 005 said that 007 was hurt, but still, you managed to save him, right…? …So it's all going to be…"
"…I'm not so sure."
"…What?"
"You don't understand, 009… W-when… when 007 got hurt, it was…"
Chang shook his head again, a bit more violently this time. Joe realized with growing alarm that the chef was bordering dangerously on tears when the shorter cyborg met his concerned gaze.
"…006… you…"
"…Joe, he stabbed himself."
The leader of the 00-team felt his eyes widen at that little revelation, completely unable to hide his shock. He stared blankly at Chang for a few seconds as it sunk in, his own eyes beginning to burn with tears.
Albert and Pyunma looked sharply at each other, equally taken aback by this news. At length, Pyunma bowed his head and slumped forward in his seat, shaking his head slowly. Albert sat stiffly in his chair, glassy blue eyes squeezing shut after a few seconds.
"…He hurt himself," Chang repeated miserably, trembling a bit as all-too-fresh memories swept over him. "They were making us fight him, and then… he tried… tried to…"
He stared at the ground, shaking as his rapidly deteriorating self-control further frayed and broke apart. At a loss for words, Joe leaned forward and laid his arms over Chang's shoulders, then pulled the chef closer when 006 began to sob. He heard Chang murmur something about not understanding why; it was barely discernable, too contorted with grief to make out clearly.
…Not that it mattered all that much to him.
…They'd gotten out. They'd gotten away, but… somehow, despite that, Joe didn't quite get the impression that they'd won just yet.
…Was it just that their victory had yet to sink in? They'd accomplished what they'd come here for, to free their lost comrade from Black Ghost, but, all the same…
He wasn't certain what to think. So instead, he sat there and tried to comfort his exhausted comrade, despite his private distress.
~ * ~
The Dolphin was not the only craft escaping the fortress. On the far side of the base, a sleek vessel pulled out of port, rapidly picking up speed as it headed deeper into the ocean.
Inside, blank-eyed robots worked the controls while their human cargo milled around in the back of the ship. Though there were few truly deep bonds or camaraderie to be found in the ranks of Black Ghost's scientists, those on board did share a common relief over their safe evacuation.
After all, those accursed 00-traitors had attacked! Small miracle they hadn't been slaughtered to a man, let alone lost a single one of their number to those defective cyborgs. Now, so long as Black Ghost deigned not to blame them for the unfortunate outcome of this plan, they were safe.
Heaving a fervent sigh of relief, a dark-haired scientist flopped down in one of the empty seats, briefly dropping the detached mask he and his comrades all wore in some fashion while working. Considering how narrowly they had dodged the bullet in this case, there didn't appear to be much harm in letting his guard drop momentarily.
His gaze rolled over to his left; one of his coworkers was next to him, looking out the circular window immediately adjacent to their seat. It didn't take long for the younger scientist to put a name to the face; this was the man they'd been forced to wait for before departing, the one assigned to retrieving some vital, last-minute data on the projects they'd conducted here.
In truth, he'd fully expected they'd end up leaving without the man. He'd been honestly surprised when the doctor arrived in time to catch the ship; another sign of how fortunate they'd turned out to be in the end, he supposed.
"Thank God you got back when you did, Williamson! We were beginning to think we'd have to leave without you!"
…Not that they could without facing Black Ghost's wrath later, but that was a moot point, now. The black-haired scientist grinned, thankful for their survival.
The addressed man barely acknowledged his comrade's words. Instead, he continued to stare outside at the passing ocean, allowing the silence growing between them to become more awkward. Finally, uncomfortable with the lack of reception, the younger scientist shifted in his seat and looked away, losing himself in his own private thoughts.
He'd never gotten a clear look at his companion's face. If he had, it was still unlikely he would have noticed something rather unusual about the older man. The features were perfect, calm and composed, strange considering how narrowly he and his coworkers had evaded death. The oddest thing, however, was that his right eye was a shade paler than its mate, the dark pupil bearing a glassy sheen.
Briefly resting his hand against the disc nestled safely in the pocket of his pristine white lab coat, Doctor Williamson smiled smugly at his reflection in the portal and said nothing, watching as the underwater fortress vanished into the midnight waters behind them.
