Mega Man X: Trinity Helix

by Revokov

Episode 5: Two Towers-Two missions begin at once, dividing Hunter ranks while Kou Cao's agents set up some deadly surprises.

4. Gold Venom

Chapter 2—Gold Venom

From: KouCao

To: Helm

RE: It's Time

Our new toy has been removed from Esperanza, but more Nexnecis is still being produced in Plants B and C. We'll soon have enough for the main event, but we're more than ready for the preliminaries.

Guyver, do your thing. I'm sick of standing around with my thumbs up my ass waiting for the Hunters to stop picking on us. It's time to make things perfectly clear to them that when you mess with a snake, you can get bitten hard. The targets have been confirmed and their locations secured. The Hunters will soon learn that their upper echelons are no longer safe. Our Ally has gone out of his way to arrange this unity of forces—a unity that, I admit, looks a lot more promising than I first suspected—and now it's about time we showed him we know how to play ball just as well as he does.

So…let it begin. The damage we got those Terrornova clowns to inflict will be nothing compared to what we may achieve this time. This time it won't just be Megacity 5 burning—the whole damn planet can burn with it. But enough melodrama…have yourself a merry little conspiracy, take your vitamins, and don't sit too close to the TV.     –C

***

Chicago, Illinois

            Pizzeria Uno, it was called, sitting rather innocently on a corner in Chicago's busy inner city. Outside it looked like a smallish restaurant in comparison with some of the flashier ones out there but the prices inside spoke differently. But all in all, its patrons knew, it was a small price to pay for the goodness that was the original Chicago deep-dish pizza.

            Carlos Sanchez hadn't forgotten this, and since he was rarely off in his meal choices his partner didn't argue. The partner in question, Victor Zokas, sat down across from his longtime acquaintance and ordered a Coca-Cola from the waitress. Carlos preferred Sprite. The pizza itself would take a while, and by then their third companion would be present.

            Victor looked at his gold watch with the slightest smile. "He's gonna be late."

            "Fashionably," Carlos agreed, pretending to skim through the menu. It must be something important. Their contact never wasted time with melodrama unless there was something major going on.

            Victor sighed, knitting his fingers behind his head and leaning back in the booth. One thing he hated about his job was the awkward silences that came while they waited for food. Carlos was content to sit and think to himself all the damn time, but Victor liked a dialogue. They'd worked together for years now, but Victor hadn't accustomed himself to all his friend's—he supposed they were friends—habits.

            Fortunately the two humans didn't have to wait long. Their contact, a short, conservatively dressed man, entered the restaurant and walked towards them with his free arm outstretched as though to greet a longtime friend. The other hand clutched a black suitcase. Victor and Carlos played up the image, greeting the man with smiles when in fact all three of them wanted this to be over with as soon as possible. Meeting in public was necessary and not even all that dangerous, but it still put men such as these on guard.

            Victor predictably was the first to speak. "Afternoon, Mr. Helm. Good flight?"

            "About what could be expected," Helm responded in a tone that was casual yet still somehow businesslike. He took a sip of water before continuing. "So is there anything out of the ordinary going on around here?"

            That meant, are we being followed? Carlos folded up the menu and shook his head. "Everything's pretty boring."

            "Let's change that." Helm leaned back as much to stretch as to size up the two prospective operatives before him. Both had worked for the organization before and had done exceptionally well as a team, but nevertheless what Helm was about to propose might even be beyond their league. "How do you like your desk jobs?"

            "Could be better," Victor allowed. He was somewhat thin, with sandy brown hair, hazel eyes and a demeanor that bespoke of a man who was comfortable around everyone and made friends easily. A grand disguise, Helm knew. "You have any better ideas?"

            Carlos kept quiet, Helm noticed, letting Victor do all the talking while he merely observed. Carlos Sanchez was a calculating bastard. He fashioned himself a new-age Jackal, after the international terrorist of the Cold War era. As an assassin he'd used a variety of different weapons, but Helm doubted he'd be ready for this new one. "How'd you guys like to visit Tokyo?"

            "Sounds great. Chinese food is the best." Victor's curled lip stopped Helm from making the location correction.

            "What's in Tokyo?" Carlos asked, though he thought he already knew.

            "Liabilities," Helm replied simply, crossing his hands and resting them on the table next to his water glass. "Liabilities that need to be cut."

            Carlos let out a long breath. "I was afraid you'd say that."

            "Damn," Victor observed, smiling. "I'm surprised you have the balls for this."

            "Did you expect us to take their hassling sitting down?" Helm asked calmly, looking from assassin to assassin. "Answer me this quickly, and answer me this really god damn honestly: how do you feel about the Maverick Hunters?"

            Carlos pursed his lips and looked Helm in the eye. "How do I feel about them? Well…as a human, Helm, I must say I carry a certain practical respect for Mega Man X. Without him, well, things wouldn't be looking very up for the flesh and blood kind."

            "Understandable," Helm said with a dismissive nod. "But you needn't worry yourself with things that grandiose. We have no intentions of killing X, or even Zero for that matter. But there are others in that organization who's disappearance will send the right kind of message without destabilizing the Hunter core." That was a delicate balance they kept, Helm thought. It was also somewhat ironic. They wanted to reduce Hunter involvement in their affairs, but at the same time they needed the Hunter organization to exist to keep rival networks out of business.

            "Business is business, my friend." Victor shrugged and took another sip of water. "The way I see it, yeah, the Hunters protect our race, but if they caught either of us they'd gladly throw us in the brig. So, as long as we're not touching the Scourges of Sigma themselves, I don't have a problem with what I imagine you're suggesting."

            "My questions aren't about morals," Carlos said. "My questions are about practicality. What exactly do you want done, and how do you propose we do it?"

            Helm smiled. These humans were as cutthroat and thankless as he'd hoped. The agent opened his suitcase enough to retrieve a floppy disk. "In a nutshell, I want you to take out a target in Tokyo. Probably you will have to get into or near the Hunter Headquarters."

            "That's easier said than done, Helm." Victor frowned. "What's so special about this target that we can't just use a rifle shot from leagues away?"

            Sniping was, Helm knew, the favored modus operandi for these two, but unfortunately this time they would have to adapt to newer circumstances. This time was special. "You're not going to be using conventional weapons. You'll be using something totally unique."

            "And what would that be?" Victor pried.

            Helm shook his head. "I'm not going to discuss it here. You'll pick it up and learn how to use it in Okinawa, if you accept the job. Full information is on this disk, and it will look dangerous on paper. In practice, however, the chances of damage to either of you is quite remote…if you set things up right, you won't even have to be present for the kill."

            "Bear trap?" Victor asked with a grin at the thought.

            "Something like that," Helm allowed.

            "How much?" It was Carlos this time.

            "Given the uniqueness of this mission we're willing to pay fifty thousand credits to each of you. If you succeed in Tokyo we have other targets on our list. We'll see where things go from there." He raised an eyebrow. "Is this acceptable?"

            Carlos looked at Victor, and Victor looked right back at Carlos. It had been a long time since they'd done anything really exciting, and the occasional silent strikes they pulled off were beginning to bore them. "Yeah," Carlos said for both of them. "We'll do it."

            Helm handed over the floppy disk. "Take a look and destroy it when you're done. Your flight to Okinawa leaves tomorrow afternoon. You'll drive into Tokyo from there."

            "Seeing as we've agreed and all," Victor pressed, "You don't think you can just tell us who the target is?"

            Helm told them. The name didn't ring a bell for either assassin, which to them meant that the target was inconsequential as far as keeping their race alive. To Helm, though, the target was a major thorn in the organization's side, having carried out many a covert strike against the Serpent's bases. The day of reckoning was fast approaching for that one.

            "Stay," Victor offered as the pizza arrived. "Have a bite."

            "The work of a miscreant is never done," Helm shook his head, standing. "Good day, gentlemen."

            "His loss," Carlos opined as the Serpent's lieutenant left.

            "Indeed," Victor agreed, filling his plate. The pizza smelled good as hell. "You think they'll have pizza places in Tokyo?"

            "Pizza's hard to eat with chopsticks, Vic," Carlos said with half a smile. For him this was a landmark jest, and the last he'd probably make for a few days. Business, after all, was business.

Hunter Headquarters

            Vulcan woke with a start, sitting bolt upright with his eyes wide open. A cold sweat ran down his body, dampening his white sleeveless nightshirt. His optics took a while to report that the area before him was his private quarters and not a devastated battleground. Tetra's laughter lingered in his ears before fading completely. His body wasn't shaking this time, though the young Reploid took that as small compensation.

            He quickly realized that the nightmare wasn't the only thing odd about this situation. He was sitting on his bed, but his legs stretched off the short end—he'd fallen asleep sitting up against the wall, and next to him was…

            …Krysta? "What the hell?" Vulcan whispered, shaking his head. His friend was still sleeping peacefully, her head resting against his chest. Vulcan blinked again, trying to remember what in the world had transpired here. It came to him when he saw the small black book lying on the floor near the mattress. "Oh, yeah," he breathed, leaning his head back against the wall and trying to relax himself. They'd been here last night, just talking to each other. They'd chattered well into the night, and eventually Krysta had gotten him to show her the journal that Dr. Trask recommended he keep. He suspected that she'd read it before, but nevertheless he continued to write entries as though he were the only one who could review the book. That was how it was supposed to be done, after all.

            He figured they'd fallen asleep at the same time, or else one of them would have left. It was a shame that he was all shaken up, Vulcan thought, or he might…what? He might enjoy this?

            His arm was around her waist, he realized. Had he done that subconsciously, or beforehand? He didn't remember. He suddenly felt extremely awkward, but reminded himself that she was still totally out of it, signified by her steady breathing. There was something nice about this kind of closeness, he admitted. What made it so weird is that he didn't exactly know what he and Krysta were to each other. They were friends, very close friends, but how much did that allow for? He'd meant to ask her, but that was about as comfortable as asking a priest what he thought of cow rapists—he could never do it. Nevertheless, as pleasant as it was to have her curled up next to him now, the uncertainty that flew through Vulcan's mind when they were both awake was making it harder for them to communicate. What if he went too far, he always asked himself. What if he drove her away from him completely by accidentally crossing some unseen line?

            His eyes fell again to the journal lying on the floor. Well, if she did indeed read it behind his back, Krysta could learn of Vulcan's thoughts there. He gently set his friend's head against the wall and slid off the bed. Krysta didn't notice, and continued right on sleeping. He paused to look her over, not sure exactly why, but doing it all the same. The realization that she was pretty was startling to Vulcan both because of its factuality and because he'd never noticed it before. He'd just never thought to consider her in that way. But if he enjoyed her company and thought she was good-looking, did that mean he was attracted to her?
            "I don't know!" he whispered sharply, rapping a finger against his temple and cursing at his mind. "Shut up, you bastard!" He reached down and picked up the journal, flipping it open to the next blank page and sitting quietly at his desk, grabbing a pen. "All right, little fella," he said absently as he began writing. He called his journal "Tim". This was for no real reason other than that it made him feel a little less like an idiot calling it Tim rather than 'Journal'. "You win again. I still feel like an idiot, but I'm gonna write in you anyway."

June 24th

The nightmares are back, Tim. I knew I'd jinxed myself in the last entry. This time it was me against Tetra, the Maverick tanker. It's his tank that brings back the worst memories, but we actually did fight one-on-one for a little bit after the tank was taken out. He nearly killed me then, and he keeps getting second chances in my dreams.

I don't understand it. There was something different about this dream. Tetra never pulled the trigger in real life—Hawkins stopped him. I've known this in every dream, and so I'm never worried when the moment comes. But tonight, I just knew Tetra was going to win. I was actually scared. If that dream had gone on any longer, I'd have been shot. Hawkins would not have come to the rescue this time…why? Where was he? It makes no sense. Does this mean something? Is this dread a premonition? Vulcan, psychic Reploid extraordinaire? I should have a sitcom.

Well, freaky dreams aside, I woke up with Krysta snoozing next to me. We were nestled together like some cutsie couple. Talk about awkward. I don't remember what happened last night, and if I were human I'd be worried about that. But still, the situation gets to me.

What do you think, Tim? I've got a beautiful woman near me almost constantly, and I don't know what the hell to do about it. I don't know what she is to me anymore. She was always a friend, but we've bonded a lot over the past year (mostly because I'm a useless feck who needs to pour out his hopes and fears to a non-sentient mass of paper and leather binding. No offense, though.) A lot of what used to feel natural now seems weird. What if I do something I don't mean to do, or something is interpreted the wrong way? I love her as a friend, and if I do something stupid and drive her away, what then? You're lucky, Tim. You don't have emotions. Sometimes I wish I could be like you…just sit there all day, showing my neat blue lines off to whoever opened me, and then endure a pen digging into me for hours at a time…ok, maybe you don't have the life, Tim. Point is, you'll never have to worry about confusing a friend with a lover. I think she considers me a simple friend, which is fine and comfortable, but…I don't know. I'm probably making something out of nothing. It's just weird waking up with a 'simple friend' curled up in your arms.

…Though if that's what constitutes a simple friendship nowadays, more power to them.

            He added the last line as an afterthought, blinking at it after it was written. He supposed it was true…holding her like that had given him a feeling of security, as though he were in control of things. He'd depended on others since the terrorist attacks, and for that moment, whether it was true or not, it was like she depended on him for her own comfort. It made him feel…well, like he was worth something.

            He closed the book just as Krysta herself groaned and blinked the sleep from her eyes. She focused on Vulcan as his journal snapped shut, blinking for a different reason. "What the…" It took her another second or so to realize that it wasn't her room, and she blushed immediately. "Oh God."

            "I was surprised too," Vulcan said, resting the journal on the desk and scratching the back of his neck. "We were talking…right? I honestly don't remember."

            "Yeah, talking…" She rested her head back against the wall, laughing a bit. "Wow…I'm sorry…"

            "Eh, don't worry. I didn't take any pictures. Just woke up myself, actually."

            She allowed herself a small smile of relief that she hadn't offended him, and then her eyes fell on the journal. For a second she processed all the thoughts Vulcan just had, and of course wondered what her friend thought. That information was definitely in the journal, which Vulcan casually pushed aside. "I can't believe…" She stopped, blushing again.

            "What?" Vulcan asked, feeling awkward himself.

            "It's…nothing." She stood, looking out the window at the rising sun and frowning. "I better get back to my own quarters before someone catches me in here…Rykov would never let us—"

            "—Hear the end of this," Vulcan finished, laughing a little easier as he stepped to his door. Hunters all had their own individual rooms now, but the rooms were consequentially smaller than they had been, allowing Vulcan just enough space for a bed, two dressers, a desk and a small closet. He cracked the door and peeked outside at the empty hallway. "No one's coming."

            "Phew…" She walked to the door, somewhat slowly, with a fleeting glance back at the journal. Vulcan wasn't supposed to catch the look, but he did. Krysta stopped at the door, fighting another blush and smiling uneasily. "This is a new one."

            "Definitely. How bad?"

            "Eh." She brushed a lock of ice blue hair from her face. She tried to say more but laughed at herself again, averting her eyes.

            "Whaaaat?" he asked, more nervous than annoyed. "Out with it, you knave!"

            She shrugged and grinned at him. "You make a good pillow?"

            "Oh, what's that supposed to mean?" he asked quickly, with false anger. "You calling me fat?"

            "Sure, Vulc, you're a regular doughboy," she said with a light laugh, jabbing a finger into his flat midsection. "I meant when I woke up, I was thinking how well I'd slept." Her cheeks colored again. "Weird, huh?"

            "Totally." Maybe he wasn't the only one in mental turmoil, he thought. God, did misery ever love company.

            "Well I'd better scram before we start making out or something," she said, grinning evilly.

            "You are cruel to jest, my lady," he replied, very casually, holding the door for her. She smiled back at him, squeezing his shoulder as she made her escape, scurrying down the halls to her own quarters.

            He was sorry to see her go.

            "Settle down!" he hissed at his emotions, to no avail. His shoulder tingled where her hand had been, and he suddenly wished it were there again. "Friends," he reminded himself, walking towards his window—he was lucky enough to have one of those—and watching the sun come up. "Friends."

            Friends or not, at least now he had something to think about other than Tetra. He turned to his desk and looked at his journal, sitting there like the forbidden fruit. "Well, Tim? Own up. Does she read you? We have ways of making you talk, my friend."

            Tim didn't answer. Tim was a journal. Vulcan, on the other hand, was a Maverick Hunter, and in two hours he had to be ready for a training session. He dressed himself and left his room, heading not to the cafeteria but to the Zen garden outside. He was up earlier than usual this morning, and he had a lot to meditate on.

Sakimoto Airfield

            It was a rare moment when the pilot Bale got a chance to rest, and when he did have free time he preferred to spend it lying on the roof of the aircraft hangar, staring up at the sky and usually wishing he was flying through it instead of sitting on a damn rooftop. However he still enjoyed his time off, and that being said he was considerably annoyed when Raven 13 came screaming over the top of the hangar, jolting him out of his haze of daydreams and sending him rolling across the steel roof in fright. He shot to his feet and very eloquently bellowed "YOU HELL-RAISING SON OF A BITCH!" at the retreating fighter jet, waving his arms like a frantic cartoon character for emphasis.

            "Hell yes!" Alec laughed, pumping his fist and leaving Bale in the dust. "I get him every time!"

            "Jesus," observed the woman squashed into the small cockpit with him. She was a systems programmer named Ravenna Steele, a young woman with dark hair and slightly tanned skin. She worked for the Hayatom Corporation, a world-renowned producer of mechanical parts and programs. She'd come down to Sakimoto Airfield one day to investigate a weapons malfunction with one of the Raven jets. She and Alec had met professionally enough, but by the end of the day they'd agreed to meet for dinner. One thing led to another, and now five weeks later Alec had smuggled her into his jet in order to do what every man must do at one point or another: show off. The civilian turned to the pilot with an expression containing both amazement and amusement. "Can't you get in trouble for flying that close to him?"

            "Sure, if I misjudge my flight path."

            "What could happen then?"

            "I might kill him." Alec grinned hugely. "Can't you see that in the papers? 'Systems Programmer Seizes Control of Plane, Spills Smoking Guts Of Hunter Pilot'?"

            "How about no?" Ravenna protested with a laugh, smacking him upside the head. The two of them were about as alike as they were different, which interested them both. A civilian egghead with a mind full of mischief, Ravenna was sometimes surprised to find herself with a rambunctious pilot. Alec also had a mind full of mischief, however, and they found that their senses of humor were almost perfectly matched.

            Alec barrel rolled for the nine hundredth time and then touched the small aerial warrior down easily on the runway, driving it towards the hangar. Bale emerged from the garage very shortly, still perturbed and not getting any better when Alec helped Ravenna down, the both of them sniggering audibly. "Is that some kind of turn on for you two?" Bale growled, feeling his annoyance burning off but blowing steam for the simple hell of it.

            "It was her idea," Alec said instantly, dodging another smack to the head.

            "Don't listen to him," Ravenna retorted, trying to keep a straight face. "It was…mechanical failure!"

            "What?" Bale grumped, crossing his arms over his chest. "I suppose you're going to tell me Sigma owned the jet all of a sudden?"

            "As a matter of fact," Alec responded with an evil grin, using his best impersonation of the infamous Maverick's voice.

            "Enough of that, or we'll have you debugged," the Reploid said to the human. "In either case, Signas wants us to have another look at the Skiver's Nighthawk schematics."

            "I'd better get going too," Ravenna announced with a sigh. "Boss Tan gets annoyed when the techies are late."

            "Have a blast," Alec said, deadpan.

            "Thanks," she said, kissing him. "The jet was fun."

            "Roller coaster of the sky," he agreed as she headed off.

            Bale just shook his head with a quirky frown. "You know you could be thrown in the brig for taking a civilian passenger into that death trap of a jet?"

            "Well if I am I'll know who blabbed, won't I?" Alec replied with a grin. "Let's have a look at these schematics, shall we? I'm thinking this is an 'early lunch day'. What say you?"

            "Alec, with you, it's always an early lunch day."

            "I know. And we get paid for all of it. All of it!"

            "It should be a crime."

            "It probably is." Alec blinked after he said it. Then he and Bale checked around themselves in unison and quickly got to work on the schematics.

            Hawkins sucked in the crisp morning air, savoring it as he always did. The world may be a polluted stinking rock, he often thought, but early in the morning the forest and cliffside trails surrounding Maverick Hunter Headquarters were the Garden of Eden. His pace was a little more than a jog, but not so much that he felt even vaguely out of breath. His metal limbs could keep him going for a very long time. The only thing a Reploid runner had to worry about was keeping their breathing synchronized, and they were set.

            Hawkins capitalized on this fact almost every morning, rising long before the sane people in the HQ and beginning his therapeutic run. He called it therapeutic because it really was. He covered a little over three miles in his usual route, and at his easy pace he was usually finished in a half hour. During those thirty minutes he was more at peace than at any other time of the day. Running gave him a much-needed release from the stress of his job, and doing it before that job started allowed him to perform his duties with a clear head. If he had something he needed to think about, he ran. Usually by the time he'd finished, his thoughts had become lucid. It was mostly due to this regular morning workout that Lieutenant Commander Hawkins was rarely if ever in a state of depression.

            He cruised through the so-called Wormswood Forest, christened by Alec after the pilot had found "a nightcrawler the size of a bondage whip" under a now famous log. The worm in question had yet to be found, but the name had stuck. The trees smelled of pine, and Hawkins inhaled the pleasant scent as he did every morning. The mound of paperwork he had yet to fill out became nonexistent. Apprehensions about questionable new recruits ceased to be important. A pinecone fell and hit him on the head.

            "Smart ass," the Hunter muttered behind him, continuing along the dirt path. He soon came upon the two trees that marked the middle of the forest path, standing directly across from each other on either side of the dirt road. They seemed to Hawkins a gateway of sorts, and he had a habit of rushing through them. This he did, kicking his speed up to a sprint and hurtling through the wooden columns. He slowed his pace, glancing behind him to watch the immobile sentries disappearing in the distance. Those trees were such an interesting bit of nature, he thought, just as he did every morning. He subsequently followed that thought with "I need a life", as he also did every morning.

            Despite this Hawkins couldn't exactly be accused of sloth. He worked hard training his men, and was a member of a strike force that took out nearby targets linked with Gold Serpent. The Army base in southern Japan supplied most of the manpower for this unit, but the Hunters contributed the key information and the key agents. Similar units functioned around the globe, and were a crucial part of Signas's plan for bringing Kou Cao's operations to a standstill.

            When not slaving away as a Maverick Hunter, Hawkins spent most of his free time with the members of his unit. Given his friendly and open nature, he'd quickly earned the trust and respect of his comrades and served as a very down to earth authority figure slash blood brother to them. The lieutenant commander couldn't think of anyone in Unit 5 that wouldn't fight to the death for their allies, which was not at all the case in your average unit. The Maverick Hunters were not a military organization—they were a special counter-terrorism team that employed and trained civilian Reploids who were free to resign at any time. Thus the Hunters themselves were mercenaries, if you wanted to be technical about it, and in most cases it is hard for mercenaries to come up with lasting notions of loyalty. They may fight to defend their closer friends, sure, but the team mentality that comes with regular military units is the exception rather than the norm.

            Hawkins finished his run at the front of Hunter Headquarters, spying a familiar figure resting in the elaborate fauna of the Zen garden. "Lo, Vulcan!" Hawkins called out, wiping the sweat from his brow and entering the immediately peaceful environment. "Are you one with the universe yet?"

            "Almost," Vulcan replied calmly, turning to acknowledge his friend. "Good run?"

            "Always." Hawkins peeled a stray bang of black hair off his forehead. "You're up early."

            "Tell me about it…" Vulcan agreed, yawning like a tiger. "Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind."

            "I know the feeling. Couple of nights ago that asshole Stonewall compared the Hunters to rent-a-cops. I was tearing his throat till morning."

            "How very Maverick you seem today, Hawkins." But Vulcan understood. The human general called Stonewall was not a favorite around the HQ. "What's on the schedule for today?"

            "Flanking drills." Hawkins rested a leg on a nearby stone slab. "Archer wants to boot up the Bangor 2 model."

            "Jesus, not again." Bangor 2 was an advanced version of the base in Maine where the New York Hunters under Commander Zion apprehended several high-ranking Gold Serpent personnel. This simulation was designed to incorporate the lessons Kou Cao should have learned from this strike, so the Hunters would be ready for his responses.

            "Practice makes perfect," Hawkins reminded his underling. "You've seen what happens when things go completely to hell."

            That was worth a shiver. "Yes, I have."

            Hawkins studied the young Hunter for a few seconds. "You know, Vulc, you've gotta be the most depressing guy on the base."

            He laughed. "I'm not that bad, you ass."

            "No, seriously. You've always got something heavy on your mind. Lighten up, dude. Hasn't Rykov taught you to let it all hang out yet?"

            "Rykov has suggested many things that I wouldn't be caught dead doing."

            "Bad example. What about Krysta?"

            His reaction, Hawkins thought, was curious. "She's…tried, but I'm stubborn."

            "Ah." The burly Hunter frowned in careful analysis. "Know what you need? You need to start running. It'll clear your head faster than anything that quack Trask can prescribe."

            "Running is the sport of madmen."

            "Which is precisely why you should start. Hear me and hear me well, my friend: it is possible to be too sane for your own good. Meet me here tomorrow at six. You've got nothing to lose by trying."

            "I'm wasted on cross country."

            "You don't have to move fast. Lord knows I don't. You just have to move. Do your thinking then and get it out of the way." He started away from the garden, heading for the main doors. "It'll do you good!"

            "Sure," Vulcan said lamely, watching his superior vanish. Damn it. How did he always manage to get himself into these things?

            The Garibaldi Wastewater Treatment Plant had served Doppler Town well in its day, treating the utopia's sewage with as much professionalism as you ever did see in a de-shittifier building. Unfortunately, like most of Doppler Town, it had to be shut down when its boss, Toxic Seahorse, went completely and utterly batshit. Mega Man X had put a stop to the goofy Maverick with the aid of icy shards courtesy of one Blizzard Buffalo, and Garibaldi went out of business once and for all.

            Damia didn't have the Frost Shield at her disposal, nor did she have Mega Man X for that matter, but to her it would be cheating if she had either. What she did have was the simulation records of the Garibaldi Mission, and now it was time once again for her unit to prove that they still knew their stuff.

            The leader of Unit 8 watched the progress from a viewscreen in a room adjacent to the simulation chamber. Her two teams were in position, visible as red and blue blips on the three-dimensional map emitted from the screen. During Doppler's rebellion, Toxic Seahorse had fortified the major section of the base with an anti-teleportation barrier. The only way in was through an underwater passage lined with all kinds of undersea defenses and guarded by a giant fan that produced a strong backwards current. X had approached it by reactivating a ride armor panel, but Damia's people wouldn't have that luxury. One team consisting of Deluge, Dantz and Everett would enter the same way Mega Man X did and, using Deluge's unique talents, would strike hard and draw the main defenses to them. As they did so Nexus, Castle and Acrystos would approach in a submersible and climb up one of the chasms leading into the "fan area". There, using an extremely coordinated series of strikes, they would disable the fan and thus the current, allowing passage to Seahorse's lair.

            That, at least, was the plan. Generally Damia herself participated in these training missions, since she was the one who really needed the practice, but she had to keep up her skills as a strategist as well as her skills as a soldier, and this time it was control duty for her. She missed the thrill of the exercise, but had to admit there was something nice about not having to bear the pressure that came with the fear of failure. Watching was always easier than doing.

            …Who was she kidding? She never took the easy way out. This sucked.

            A small mechanical monkey climbed up onto the desk next to Damia, standing upright and saluting her. She smiled. "Boring, isn't it Roy?" Roy gave her an affirmative squeak and sprang onto her arm, clambering up to its creator's shoulder. The strategist chuckled and stroked her pet's silver fur. "What's Siegfried up to now?" Roy's following pattern of noises indicated that his gold furred counterpart was nowhere to be found. "Oh well…monkeys. What are you gonna do?"

            Roy clicked his tongue and sat down on Damia's shoulder. While most Reploids had innate attacks at their disposal, Damia had been gifted only with basic motor skills and an above-average CPU. She'd been able to combine the two to produce her fighting style, and eventually had a program installed in her that allowed her to control a number of drones for spying purposes. Until recently Damia had used only spider drones due to their practicality, but her medical condition had left her with more free time than she cared to admit. And so, enter Siegfried and Roy, the robot helper monkeys. Delates couldn't get over the pair, and neither could most of Damia's unit. After building the two Damia realized that they were much more than extra pairs of eyes—both monkeys were very good with knives and, in some cases, smaller lightsabers. "Holy shit," she'd said to Delates after this realization. "Imagine the look on some Maverick's face when, out of the blue, two little monkeys with butcher knives ambush his ass in a dark alley."

            "Oh, chere command-air," Castle said on the radio, using the cheesiest French accent he could muster, "vee ah readeh."

            "Tu es une vache flammande, Castle." Which was, in fact, the go code—Flemish Cow. "Stand by." Damia switched channels to Deluge's team. "You ready over there?"

            "And waiting."

            Damia tracked enemy signals on the map. "All's clear for you, Deluge. Dantz, Brant, wait for the signal."

            "Roger," said all three team members.

            "All right," said Damia absently, as Roy climbed onto her head and clapped his hands eagerly. "Let's see if we can't show X how it's done."

            Deluge's "team" was really a three-part strike force, since none of the three Hunters was in the same place. Brant Everett had been placed on the dam across the water from the treatment plant, where he waited quietly with his sniper rifle. The sturdy Dantz had infiltrated through the sewers, as X had, and now bided his time while studying the security drones. Deluge himself was already underwater. He touched down on the sandy bottom—a depth of about thirty feet—and began charging his weapons. Like his name implied, Deluge was a Reploid of the sea, his aquamarine and jade coloration hiding him well in the deep. His special attack, the Tsunami, was self-explanatory. Above ground Deluge fired slim beams of blue lightning, but under the sea his cannon began generating waves of energy that fluctuated violently back and forth, disturbing the waters and creating terrible waves above him. As he charged his cannon, powerful energy gathered at one particular point and waited to be unleashed, at which point a nasty tidal wave would come crashing down at a target.

            Official records of the Garibaldi Battle didn't list many actual Mavericks among the drones patrolling the facility, but one the Hunters did know about was named Dimitrius. This grungy humanoid had pursued X all the way to the ride armor platform, where the Frog mecha had finally cut him down with cluster missiles. The designers of the simulation had opted to give Dimitrius the honor of being the master of security in Toxic Seahorse's base, and the simulated Reploid patrolled the roof of the facility with the majority of his stronger drone henchmen. The sight of the restless waves did disturb the program, especially since the battle was occurring on a calm day. He thought he might put his units on alert, but stopped to look a little longer.

            Then the Tsunami came, and it was too late to do anything for a while.

            Deluge let his energies fly free, and the gathered power burst free from its confines. The manmade lake seemed to throw itself at the treatment plant, and the momentum carried the wave up towards the roof—the building did not rise that high out of the water, since most of its operations occurred underwater anyway. Dimitrius shouted out frantic commands but anything sentient was staring dumbly at the approaching wall of water.

            The next thing Dimitrius knew he was underwater and being slammed hard against the wall behind him—the "roof" was a series of outdoor walkways surrounding a unit that went up even higher—and by the time he was able to discern which way was up, things were badly out of hand. Many of their mounted defenses had been badly jarred or shorted out by the wave, and the sentries were all disoriented. Some of the walking cannons had been shattered upon contact with the wall, Dimitrius noted as well. He flipped a switch on a device he'd been programmed to carry, and all alarms in the Garibaldi Wastewater Treatment Plant went off at once. "All units on alert! We are under attack!" He stopped before giving further orders, staring in fear at something on the horizon. "What is that?"

            Deluge had struck the first blow, and now in order to divert base security fully the Hunters had to present them with targets to shoot at. The Hunters had their own mechaniloid drones, and Brant Everett activated them from his position on the dam. Three small black hovercopters rose from a position behind the dam and began closing in on the facility, opening fire with machine guns on the roof defenses.

            "Shit," Dimitrius growled. "All units to the roof! The attack is from the air! The attack is—" A humanoid drone next to him fell in disrepair as a giant hole was blown through its head. Dimitrius looked out shakily towards the scene in front of him. Snipers!

            Everett smiled, calmly switching targets in his crosshairs. A crab mecha fell next with an adaman bullet clear through its side, blowing off all its legs. He found it ironic sometimes that the pressure could be so intense for him, even though he was in the least danger during these kinds of missions. He supposed it was because it was up to him to cover his comrades' asses and keep them alive. The leader of another humanoid squad lost his head. Indeed, thought Everett, lowering his rifle and looking at the programmer for the copters, there was nothing funny about this.

            One of the copters strafed the west walkway, dropping many of the sentries. Dimitrius himself was slammed again into the wall, this time with blood leaking down his torso. He choked on his own vital fluids and slid to the floor. Security forces continued to arrive nonetheless. On the water, seafaring war vessels sped out onto the lake, firing up at the copters only to be sunk themselves. One missile from a small speedboat crashed into the tail rotor of one of the copters, bringing it down hard against the main wall of the treatment plant. A thundering shudder went through the building, allowing for a brief lull in the action.

            Dantz felt it as he made his way in through the basement. The first two enemies he encountered were massive ones, big green humanoids who fired single shots of a thin blue laser from their cannons. The guerilla found these foes disappointingly easy to defeat. The red titan leapt onto a raised platform in front of the two mechaniloids and simply began firing his cannon. Thick, large orbs of plasma slammed into the green thing's body, damaging it greatly. Still it attacked, sending its skinny laser towards Dantz's head. He simply ducked, firing his bazooka-like cannon again and sending the machine to the grinder. The next one challenged him with a similar shot that Dantz nimbly jumped over, charging his cannon as he did so. The subsequent shot was a thick, long laser that plowed clear through the mechaniloid, and that was the end of that. Dantz left the battlefield by casually leaping down a steep drop. He landed heavily on the steel floor of what looked to be the sewage part of the sewage treatment plant. On either side of the platform, a river of murky green water flowed ominously by while acid dripped from the piping above, which had long since fallen into disrepair. The Hunter made his way to the end of the platform and began climbing up the wall, using grappling mechanisms in his hands and boots. This proved to be a disgusting task, since a cascade of filthy water fell from some point above him and he was right in the middle of it. "Brant, I'm approaching," he said into his communicator as he—thankfully—neared the top.

            "Roger," said Everett, calmly shooting through the engine of the speedboat that had dropped the copter. The vessel disappeared in a ball of flames and the sniper ordered the other two to back off for a while, retreating to the east and drawing enemy fire that way. "All clear, D. I've got you covered."

            Dantz accepted that, clambering up onto the final platform and shaking himself dry like a dog. He really hated this simulation. The dash thrusters in his boots came to life and carried his large frame towards the action on the roof. All remaining forces had gathered on the west balcony where they could see all the action, and they quickly raised the alarm when they saw Dantz infringe on their turf. Dantz simply let loose another charged laser, which plowed clear through the line of foes. The rest of the drones were unprepared and overwhelmed, and were easily dispatched by regular blasts from Dantz's mighty cannon. "Roof cleared."

            "Roger that. Think you can help us with the water boys?"

            Dantz smiled. He turned to face the lake below him and selected the best line of fire. His shoulder epaulets opened up to reveal charging laser cannons. Glowing orbs of white-hot plasma gathered and launched out in wide, long beams of energy. Dantz's spread laser slammed into five different Maverick vessels, sinking them all. The other ones, their programs registering that the roof was no longer friendly, redirected their fire towards the red Hunter. Dantz took cover behind support pillars, popping out to fire shots every once in a while. Everett did the same from the other side until finally the waters became choppy again. A second Tsunami, far smaller than the first but still potent, rolled into the remaining sea drones and brought the battle to a close. Deluge surfaced and patched in to Everett. "Brant, that's all I've got."

            "That's all we'll need. Stand by for pickup. There'll be enemy reinforcements soon, but that's their problem."

            Deluge then waited as Everett directed a hovercopter to his position. Deluge latched onto one of the landing rungs and held on tightly, hoping mightily that no sneak attacks felled the copter while he was hitching a ride. Dantz watched the scene and covered for his comrade, watching the water for any signs of foul play…

            …Foul play which did come, but not from the seas. Dantz cried out as a shot landed in his back. His heavy armor absorbed most of the damage but he was worried anyway, and he turned to observe the angry, bleeding Dimitrius crawling towards him, a pistol leveled toward Dantz's face. "Die," the Maverick program rasped, his finger tightening on the trigger. A head exploded…but it was not Dantz's.

            "Be more careful," Everett admonished easily, lowering his rifle and getting back to the task of guiding Deluge to his destination.

            Dantz breathed a sigh of relief as Deluge joined him on the balcony. He kicked Dimitrius's corpse as he passed by. "Ready to go back in the water?"

            Deluge sighed and nodded. "Can't be avoided, I guess. Damia, we're on our way."

            "Pretty good," their commander acknowledged. Roy latched onto her left arm, chittering happily as she scratched his head. "Close call with Dimitrius, but it worked out. Castle," she said after changing channels. "Things are as clear as they're going to get."

            Before the message had been sent, Castle, Acrystos and Nexus were on their way to the underwater processing area by way of a small submersible that they parked at the bottom of a chasm. "Roger that!" Castle replied to Damia, smiling to the others. "You ladies ready?"

            "And waiting," Acrystos nodded affirmative.

            Nexus simply smiled and brushed her dark hair out of her eyes, eyes that glowed briefly. She stepped forward and vanished through a portal that came to be and ceased to exist in the manner of one second. "Show off," Castle opined, stepping onto a platform with his paramour and pressing a red button. Both were jettisoned high up into the chasm, where they latched onto the sidewalls and climbed towards the top. They were quite close to the giant fan and knew it, so close in fact that they couldn't push themselves up any farther. Dantz and Deluge would soon make it down here, but none of them would pass into the core of the facility without getting rid of the rotor that produced the terrible current above them.

            Fortunately, they'd come up with a pretty good plan for dealing with that. Acrystos sent a burst transmission to Damia, who replied that there were no enemies in their immediate vicinity. The message was sent directly to Acrystos's CPU in words rather than sound, which would not carry underwater. Acrystos next conveyed her readiness to Nexus with a thumbs-up. The indigo Huntress nodded and concentrated on the maps of the area she'd seen in the briefing. The destination portal Acrystos would step out of had to be just right…if it was too far, the green one would be shredded by the rotor. Fortunately Nexus knew her stuff, and once Acrystos finished gathering icy energies to her cannon she nodded her final affirmative and dropped into the portal beneath her. She stepped out of the portal right in front of the fan and was momentarily bewildered at how strong the current was, and how fast she was being pushed away. She remembered her mission in time to unleash her Ice Arrow, a frosty ray of energies that encased the rotor blades and stiffened their performance considerably. She flew back over the chasm and managed to stop herself before sliding into a working area behind her lined with spikes and floating turtle sentries.

            Castle was next. Exactly three seconds after Acrystos went up he stepped into his own portal and reappeared in front of the slowed fan. The current was still strong, but no longer strong enough to stop Castle from performing his Dash Warp attack, which was as simple as it sounded. The dark Hunter short warped right under the fan long enough to slap a remote mine under it. He let the current carry him away, latching onto the same rock Acrystos was holding onto before blowing the mine. The fan disappeared in thick black smoke and the current died. Castle grinned as he and Acrystos stood and as Nexus joined them suddenly from a third portal. Deluge and Dantz arrived shortly afterwards and they proceeded into the cavern the fan had blocked…and the simulation ended.

            "Well that could have been worse," Damia said simply, entering the simulation room with her monkey on her shoulder.

            "What's that about?" Deluge said, removing his headpiece. "I wanted to fight Toxic Seahorse!"

            "I think the boss should fight Toxic Seahorse," Castle said with a grin. "She knows what we can do, now let's see what she can do."

            "The boss isn't fighting Toxic Seahorse," Damia responded. "The boss is going to do mounds and mounds of paperwork, and she doesn't care what you cretins do in the meantime."

            "Anything new on that Revenant guy?" Acrystos asked, wiping sweat off her face. She couldn't get wet from simulated water, but the body reacted how the body reacted.

            "No, but if someone's taking out Hunter commanders, you guys don't have much to worry about." Damia swatted at Roy, who was busy playing with her hair. "Frankly, I dare someone to attack this place. The security we've got is amazing."

            "Yeah, but so was the security in the last place," Dantz pointed out. "Though we didn't have mines…or mounted cannons…or a shitload of booby traps for a mile around the building—"

            "The security we have," Castle said loudly, "is amazing!"

            "So don't worry." Damia started for the door. "Personally I think the guy was abducted, not murdered. Hunter assassinations just don't happen, or at least they haven't happened. Seems like they ought to have happened, but the thought never crossed any Maverick's mind."

            "Maybe it just did," Acrystos suggested. "We'll all watch ourselves just the same."

            Damia nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right…false security is what screwed us over two years ago, after all." They'd be ready this time, though, if something were to happen. They had all kinds of innovative new ways to keep their enemies at bay. Their security was amazing! They wouldn't be caught off guard again.

            "Of course we'll be caught off guard again," she grumped quietly, leaving the simulator for her office. "I'll just have to keep my guts inside my body this time, is all…" What a morbid thought to end the afternoon with, she thought with a lopsided smile.

            "Go on. Leave. Remove yourself from my sight." X's eyes narrowed. "God damn it, this is the last time I'm going to warn you."

            The pile of paperwork on his desk just sat there. It didn't even look intimidated.

            "Be that way, you bastard." X withdrew the top page and skimmed through it. The actual amount of "work" he did on the paper was minimal; mainly he just had to read the stuff. Caligula's Intel weenies sorted out the Grade A from the garbage, but this was useless unless someone actually read the Grade A…well, garbage. But X could hardly complain. He was the idiot who'd decided to save the world, after all, and if that meant paperwork…

            "I don't understand why you can't just give me a break," the world's most famous Maverick Hunter continued, jabbing the paperwork with his pen. "You're always there, hounding me. Don't you have a life? I know I'd like to. What do you say? Come on, you Cossack, only this once!"

            "It's getting to you," said a voice in the doorway. "I know it is."

            "What's getting to me?" X didn't even look up to acknowledge Zero, still skimming the sheet in front of him.

            "That gargantualistic heap of formal white dung sitting on your desk, mayhap?"

            "Don't insult the paperwork, Zero, it has feelings too." X slid the sheet off to the side and picked up another one.

            "Definitely getting to you." Zero, dressed down to jeans and a white shirt, descended lazily onto the couch in his best friend's office. "Definitely."

            "Oh, it is not."

            "You were talking to it."

            "I was not."

            "Then who were you talking to just now?"

            "You, of course."

            "You called me a Cossack?"

            "No, I called the paperwork a Cossack."

            "So you were talking to it."

            "Was I?"

            "Weren't you?"

            "I don't know. I'd have to check."

            "Check with who?"

            "The paperwork."

            "I see. Well, check."

            "Was I talking to you?"

            "Me?"

            "No, the paperwork."

            "Oh."

            …

            "I guess the paperwork isn't going to be cooperative, is it X?"

            "Throw yourself off Mount Everest and die, Zero."

            Zero cackled and got to his feet. "Come on. Let's go do something completely stupid and irresponsible."

            "I've got a lot of paperwork to do…"

            "I know, and the paperwork knows too, because you told it so."

            "Maybe Mount Everest isn't a high enough fall. Maybe I should just throw you out of a space ship."

            "I'd enjoy that too much. It'd be all like whoooaaaa I'm an astronaut, baby!" Zero grinned and gestured to the mess hall. "Come on. They're serving chicken fried rice, and you know Tetsuo makes mean chicken fried rice."

            "I'm not hungry."

            "Yes you are." Zero leaned over and whispered conspiratorially to the paperwork. "Isn't he?"

            "Screw space," X said, setting down his pen in resignation and standing up. "I'll just bribe God to throw your ass down from Heaven."

            "But then I could tell everyone down here what God looks like and how long his beard truly is, and you'd get owned for allowing these secrets to be released."

            "Well, I guess I can't argue with your stone solid logic. Once again, Philosopher Zero amazes and astounds me!"

            "Atta boy!" Zero clapped him on the back as they walked. "At least you're smiling while you're being sarcastic. Yesterday you were all like muhhh Zero interrupted my wooork with this bigass sourpuss face."

            "Once in a while, Zero," X shook his head, fighting the urge to laugh, "I really miss the skulking, pouty Wookie who lumbered around here before those Terrornova assholes went screwing around."

            "Oh, I know." Zero grinned evilly. "Forgive me for capitalizing on it. But all garbage aside, X, you could use some happy pills yourself."

            "What do you mean?"

            They passed into the mess hall where most of the Hunters were eating their lunch. Reploids didn't really need food, but it tasted good and could be converted to a mild energy boost by their internal systems. The two champions stood at the back of the line, grinning innocently at the rookies in front of them who kept doing double takes to figure out whether or not these two were who they thought they were.

            "I do all the paperwork you do," Zero explained. "But I'm nowhere near as grumpy as you are."

            "You drink more coffee than I do."

            "True, but there's more to it than coffee."

            "What could be more important than coffee?"

            "Fun things to do after the caffeine binge, that's what." Zero rolled his neck and cracked his back, waiting ever so impatiently for the line to move. "You drink coffee, tea or whatever and go fill out forms. I drink the stuff and go train or party."

            "I'm beat," X protested. "My days are long and boring. Besides, my lieutenants keep the unit in shape."

            "Pah, lieutenants my ponytail. Tetsuo! Food god!"

            "And how are you, Commander?" the chief chef replied, passing over two bowls of chicken fried rice. "And X, looking happy as ever."

            "He talks to his paperwork," Zero said with a straight face.

            "He falls to his death from high distances," X countered, tipping an imaginary hat to Tetsuo. "Keep 'em coming, food god."

            "That I will."

            "See?" Zero asked as they headed to a table. "Tetsuo works all day and he keeps a smile on his face."

            "He doesn't have to do paperwork, though."

            "X, when's the last time you practiced with your unit?" Zero finally got the point.

            "Too long," the Azure Hunter admitted with a sigh, tasting the food. "It is good."

            "It's gold." Zero stuffed down a few forkfuls. "Give it a go next time. Get the juices flowing. Just work with Jasper and the others and have fun."

            "I don't like fighting."

            "Yeah, and I don't like powdered sugar doughnuts." It was meant to be sarcastic—X knew that Zero loved powdered sugar doughnuts. "Come on, X. It's exercise, not fighting. You think I ever liked actually killing people? It was just the thrill of the hunt! You could use a thrill or two."

            X couldn't argue with that, and it irked him. Zero was fast approaching a subject that had been eating at the back of X's mind for a while now, and the Azure Hunter didn't like that one bit.

            It was fine being the responsible one. X had filled that position all his life. He'd done his work well and quickly. He'd always risen to the occasion despite his doubts, never challenging authority because he'd never believed authority to be wrong. Whereas Zero had often grown cross at his few superiors because he simply didn't like them, X never even took personality into consideration, simply acknowledging that they were superiors and their orders weren't anything he had a problem doing. Oh, sure, if Signas told him to sacrifice half his unit for a stupid mission he'd tell the big guy to shove it, but Signas didn't give out missions like that, nor had Doctor Cain. X's mindset was far more militarily inclined than Zero's in that he respected authority far more.

            But where did that leave him? Here he was sixteen years old—a milestone for a Reploid—and there was a profound feeling of mediocrity pouring off of everything he did. Mostly, he felt disappointed. Something hadn't happened that he had wanted to happen very badly. Unfortunately he had no idea what that something was. He often supposed it traced back to his original aversion to the wars against Sigma. X was still a pacifist at his core, but he had embraced enough practicality to realize that sometimes guns were the only way to stop a greater evil. Nevertheless he had never let go of the idea that someday all the fighting would be over and he would be able to enjoy life in full again, just as he had when he was a young, chipper, curious lad studying to be Doctor Cain's research aide.

            It hadn't quite happened that way. Sigma had been defeated time and time again, most recently at Seraph Castle in the Catskills. There X had been witness to a very strange event. He'd arrived too late to help Zero fight Sigma, but his friend had taken care of the bald one on his own. By the time X arrived Sigma lay dead and Zero was broken and bleeding into the snow, but still alive. Then from Sigma's corpse came a writhing mass of dark energies that enveloped Zero and literally crawled inside of him. X had freaked right out, conjecturing rightly that it was the so-called "Maverick Virus" in action. He'd been unable to help Zero, but his friend somehow helped himself and the energies fled his body quite angrily. Zero had identified the darkness as Gemeines Gehirn, but his only elaboration was that "he won't be bothering us anymore."

             But what did that mean, really? Sigma—or at least the power that lived within his mind—had never really come back on his own. If there had been no X-Hunters, Sigma would still be dead. If there had been no Dr. Doppler, Sigma would still be dead. Somewhere out there, X knew, there was some asshole drooling at the idea of reviving the Maverick King and returning the Mavericks to a place of power, and the Hunters would have to pick up their guns again. Thankfully X highly doubted that the most capable candidate for such a deed would go ahead and do it. Kou Cao had already used Sigma once, and Sigma hated being used. The Gold Serpent also probably wouldn't appreciate the threat to his position of power. Without Sigma, the crime lord was the only real leader the miscreants of the world had. Were Sigma to return, Kou's legions would be divided.

            So that put X…here, sixteen years old, eating chicken fried rice in a cafeteria with a mound of paperwork sitting on his desk. Quite simply, where had his life gone?

            "Trust me," Zero said, wolfing down the rest of his food. "If you sit on your ass too long, it's gonna fall asleep."

            X looked his friend dead in the eye and blinked. "Only you could have made that sound as sage as you did."

            Zero grinned. "What are friends for?" He pushed his tray aside and stretched out his arms behind him. This was a poor choice, as Zero's new Huntress Siren happened to be walking by at the time, resulting in a scene that would make a sexual harassment lawyer leap for joy. "Jesus Christ!"

            "God, Zero." Siren laughed off the awkwardness of the situation and joined them at the table, snaking her limbs around her blonde commander. "All you had to do was ask," she said in a sultry voice, blinking her baby blues.

            "What was it you were saying about asses?" X asked. It was spoken with such unbelievable casualness that all three of them started laughing.

            "X here wanted some advice," Zero countered, winking at Siren. "If you get my drift."

            "Oh, you dogs." Siren chuckled and disengaged herself. "Ooh, chicken fried rice!" She bounded up to her feet. "You know," she spoke down to Zero, "a gentleman would go get my lunch for me after a stunt like that."

            "A gentleman wouldn't have pulled a stunt like that."

            "Damn," Siren observed. She laughed airily and bapped her commander on the head as she left. "I'll get you yet. I'll replace your alarm clock with my Gigaphone." Even X winced at that. Siren's special weapons could crack bulletproof glass.

            "Phhheeew," Zero exhaled, dropping his façade. "Thank Light she's an extrovert. That could have gone quite badly."

            "Like there's a woman this side of Mars who would complain if you touched them."

            Zero smiled, but it was a half-smile. X may or may not have intended it to happen, but Zero caught something in the statement anyway. Oh, shit. "Don't be so sure…Stonewall would love to throw my ass in jail. He'd take anything. He hates my stinking guts."

            "Calling the Megacity Army the 'pistol-packing bureaucrats' was not the best way to make friends with that man."

            "Screw him. And his friends."

            "Virdelko'd fight him every step of the way, anyway."

            Zero nodded. Generals Klementi Virdelko and Robert "Stonewall" Jackson were two of the most outspoken members of the Megacity System's Defense Table. They argued frequently, and usually over Reploids. X didn't think Jackson's stance was as much anti-Reploid as it was pro-Army, but Zero disagreed. Ever since Seraph Castle Zero had harbored a deep mistrust for racists in the Megacity Army, and Stonewall seemed to him a prime candidate. Virdelko, on the other hand, was a godsend. Until recently he'd been a stanch anti-Reploid activist, but he'd totally reversed his position after the attack on Megacity 5. By some kind twist of fate he'd already been tapped for membership on the Defense Table and Xander Couteau, the Secretary of Defense, had ensured that Virdelko retain his admission ticket despite his new views. Virdelko trusted the Hunters, whereas Jackson saw them as grubby mercenaries. Signas's move had rubbed many the wrong way, and while Signas pretended he did not care everyone knew that the Hunters still had to retain political favor if they hoped to be allowed to operate on a global scale. Virdelko provided them the leeway they needed to stay strong in the West, though Jackson seemed determined to undermine his counterpart at every turn.

            Conversation ground to an uncomfortable halt. Zero was thinking about how to press the girl issue X had inadvertently raised without sounding like an ass, but they both noticed heads rising to the television screens in the corners of the cafeteria. "Something's happening," X observed, and both Hunters stood and started for a monitor. It was a special alert, and there was a building burning. Many were crying on site.

            "Don't tell me," Zero whispered, as realization dawned on him.

            …incident occurred just very recently, clues are still scarce. Once more for those of you who have just joined us, the Fifth Anglican Orphanage in London, England has been bombed and at least twelve children have been kidnapped. Authorities have stated that the culprits may be tied to the Gold Serpent international crime network.

            An image appeared on the screen featuring three profiles, two human, one Reploid.

            "Holy shit," X realized, pointing to the Reploid. "That's Wildcard Azarias!"

            "Who?" asked Siren, joining them.

            "He's a big, big fish," Zero said, a strange feeling coursing over him. "One of the Serpent's confidants…he's said to know the man himself."

            "They found him," X said. It was like winning the lottery, only the situation could have been so much happier.

            …Julian Rosen and Christopher Harding have long been sought in kidnapping and extortion schemes ranging throughout the Megacity System. London authorities have stated that Rosen was identified in Heathrow Airport and tracked to a meeting with Wildcard Azarias, the criminal behind the kidnapping of Governor Garret Lombard's family in Iowa.

            "Lombard…" Siren began to understand. Her eyes fell upon the orphanage, and at the caption at the bottom of the screen: at least twelve children taken hostage. All color drained from her face. "No!"

            "He's a sick fuck," Zero growled. "A sick, sick son of a bitch…"

            Azarias and Rosen escaped police by taking over the Fifth Anglican Orphanage. During the standoff a bomb was detonated, demolishing the upper half of the building. At least thirty have been confirmed dead already, eighteen of whom are children. Christopher Harding was apprehended on scene after the bomb detonated. He is currently in police custody. Azarias and Rosen escaped with at least a dozen children unnoticed after hijacking one of the armored vehicles on scene.

            "He's not getting caught," X said painfully.

            "They have to find him," Siren insisted. "There's no way they'll let him keep those kids."

            X shook his head. "There's not a cop, soldier or Hunter I know with the stones to challenge Azarias when the man has kids hostage, unless they have his head in crosshairs, which we do not."

            "Bullshit," Siren growled. "Zero?"

            Zero's hands were clenched into fists trembling with rage, but he said nothing. Not a thing.

            Police chief Steven Conrad has asked for the help of Commander Michael Jameson, the head of the London chapter of the Maverick Hunter organization.

            "I was waiting for that," X said quietly.

            The Gold Serpent group includes in its ranks Reploids such as Azarias who harm humans, thus legally qualifying the Hunters to intervene. Commander Jameson has said little other than that he has placed Commander Virgil Arcanus at the head of the investigation.

            "All right," Zero finally spoke, exhaling slowly and allowing some of the tension to pour out. "All right…"

            "Who's this?" Siren asked. But the newscaster answered for her, displaying a profile on screen of a strong-featured man with a wizened face and a leonine head of silver hair.

            Commander Virgil, a Reploid sleuth known worldwide for his success in cracking the most daunting cases, joined the Maverick Hunters during the third uprising and helped locate and deactivate Maverick cells operating outside Doppler Town. He has experience tracking Gold Serpent's agents, and has even tracked Wildcard Azarias himself on one occasion in the past.

            "If there's anybody who can beat Wildcard," Zero said firmly, "it's Sherlock Virgil."

            "Yeah," X agreed, shaking his head distantly. "Jesus, why do these things have to happen like this? Couldn't they possibly have sniped the bastards?"
            "I want to know about that Harding fuck," Siren snarled. "And whether or not they've castrated him yet."

            There was little new to be seen or heard. Neither X nor Zero received calls from Signas, so they assumed that they were not going to be required to interact with this scenario, much as both would have loved to give Virgil a hand. Suddenly, X realized, the pile of paperwork on his desk seemed a lot less big a deal, and he returned to it somewhat numbly.

            "Children," he whispered, his writing slow and methodical. "More children with that bastard…" Governor Lombard's eight-year-old daughter had been missing her hands when they found her, and his ten-year-old son had been tied down and cut across every major blood vessel. He'd bled to death while his mother watched. X's pen cut through the paper and he stopped, setting everything down and laying his head against the desk. No god created him and he doubted one would bother listening to his prayers, but he tossed one off anyway.

Honda Surplus Warehouse

Okinawa, Japan

            Traveling first class made a difference, Carlos thought. As a beginner in the assassin game he'd been stuck in the back with lousy service and screaming children, but after enjoying some success he'd begun taking jobs from people who were kind enough to finance their killers well. He was well rested after the flight and his mind was totally at ease. This was good—their time frame was not long. The mission had to be completed within four days, but fortunately Carlos doubted it would take them much longer than two. He was physically and mentally prepared to carry out this little murder.

            Carlos Sanchez had long since abandoned the perplexing web of theory that determined right and wrong. As a career opportunist he took jobs that paid well when they paid their highest, and morality merely got in the way of profit. Once he had enough capital he could start killing the people he wanted to kill, and that was something to look forward to, wasn't it?

            Of course, Victor had been tagging along every step of the way and likely would continue tagging along in the future. Carlos supposed there were worse things. He and Victor made a good team, and Victor's mindset and cunning made him one of the few people Carlos could get along with.

            A small man in a black sports jacket waved to the two assassins, who rose from their seats. "Gentlemen," the summoner said, "Mr. Maglev will see you now."

            The building was used off and on by the Honda automobile corporation as a storage warehouse, but Kou Cao's people called it home in the meantime. To the assassins' knowledge, the Serpent had yet to corrupt entire boards of directors of major corporations, but he'd turned one or two of the bigwigs to his side and the rewards of such efforts were easy to spot. This convenient meeting place was one of them.

            "Thank you," Carlos responded calmly, following the man through a series of offices until they arrived on the warehouse floor. The summoner led them to a stairwell near the east end of the empty chamber and waved to it.

            "Nice tour," Victor said amiably, handing over a few yen. "Don't spend it all in one piece, you hear?"

            "Do you really have to show off every god damned time?" Carlos asked as they descended the stairwell, letting the man return to his business.

            "Do you really have to be a robot every god damned time?" Victor countered.

            Carlos smiled. "Yes." They entered a dimly lit hallway where another man waited for them. Unlike the first man, this one was shrouded in a heavy white lab coat that seemed a bit too large for him. His skin was pale and his eyes were a kind of luminescent green that made both assassins think, "Reploid."

            "Come with me," he spoke quietly, turning on his heel. His coat followed his heels with a flourish. Victor shrugged and led the way, while Carlos examined their surroundings carefully. They were led into a large room that the scientist immediately sealed off once his guests were inside. "I welcome you, humans," he said in his cold, quiet voice. "Fate has determined, in its odd manner, that you and I should extend our hands in cooperation rather than extend our swords in open conflict."

            "I figured you for a Reploid, Mr. Maglev," Carlos said calmly, resting his hand on his hip very close to his personalized energy pistol. "But not a Maverick."

            "Why is it so shocking?" Maglev asked, raising his pale hands in an elaborate shrug. "In an organization such as this, profiteers of all sorts come together, and for different goals."

            "Spare us the lecture," Carlos cut him off again, his eyes as cold as Maglev's voice. "Get to the point. We're here to collect something. Do you have it?"

            Maglev chuckled, raising his hands again. Both of his guests blinked in surprise when they saw the limbs begin to flicker. "I have the weapon you seek, Carlos Sanchez. But first, explanations are in order." A white aura spread across his body, forming an iridescent outline that began to shift from something humanoid to something a little less so. The scientist grew an extra set of arms, a suit of magenta armor and a wicked looking segmented tail, complete with bladed pincers at the end. The Maverick insignia, a sharklike head composed of Greek sigma symbols, was still gleaming proudly on his forehead.

            "Being a Maverick was surprising enough," Carlos observed, his fingers tightening around his gun. "But one so prestigious…"

            "Release your weapon," Magna Centipede ordered calmly in his true voice—still methodical and cold, but also quite deep. "Or I'll reach for mine."

            "Fair enough," Carlos said evenly, backing off but still keeping a wary eye on the Reploid who'd corrupted an entire island's computer networks during the second Maverick uprising.

            "Hey now," Victor finally said, stepping forward. "We're all on the same team, aren't we? So let's get down to business."

            "I quite agree, Mr. Zokas." Magna smiled and extended a hand towards a metal table across the room. Magnetic currents dragged it and its contents towards the trio, and the Maverick presented to the assassins two adaman canisters. "May I present to you 'Nexnecis'…the next big thing from Kou Cao."

            "Nexnecis?" Victor frowned, studying the canister. It had what looked to be a steel ring around one end with circular indentations all around it, somewhat like the exhaust pipe of a flashy car. "What does it do?"

            "It kills, Mr. Zokas," Magna explained calmly. "It kills very nastily." He pointed to the steel ring at the end of one canister. "Inside is an airborne substance that will kill a Reploid in under a minute." He paused for effect. "You can imagine what it does to humans."

            "This is quite a risk, then," Carlos pointed out tersely. "What's so wrong with just shooting the target in the forehead?"

            "This assassination is more than the removal of a bothersome object," Magna responded. "It is also meant as a message…a very direct message, straight to Signas. The Serpent's gold venom must be identified as the killing agent."

            "If that's the case," Victor said thoughtfully, "then there are obviously similar attacks being planned as we speak."

            "Planned," the Maverick affirmed with a curt nod, "and executed. For, you see, the execution of this mission will require very little risk on your part, unless you're foolish enough to trigger the device yourselves." He crossed his upper pair of arms across his chest and gestured with the other two. "Find and follow the target. Set this trap where you know they will encounter it. By the time the death occurs, you can be well out of sight, and ideally already back here with me to collect your dues."

            "By which I assume you mean money, Maverick?" Carlos asked coldly. He was no angel, but Mavericks didn't exactly thrill him.

            Magna Centipede narrowed his strangely humanoid eyes into slits, clenching all four fists. "Times have changed, Mr. Sanchez. I no longer carry unreasonable hatred towards humans as a species…my targets are individuals, as are yours. Sigma may have other ideas, but Sigma is not alive at the moment and even if he were his genocidal schemes wouldn't get him any further than they ever have."

            "So why place your trust in a new leader?" Victor had to ask. "What's different between the Serpent and Sigma?"

            "The Serpent has tangible goals," Magna replied simply. "His new ally's objectives are slightly more complex, but from what I have seen he is well on his way to achieving them."

            "What exactly have you seen?" Victor asked with well-done nonchalance. The answer would likely indicate the exact reason he and Carlos were being called to action. Carlos said nothing, but it was clear he desired an answer as well.

            Magna Centipede smiled behind his mouthpiece. "You are not cleared for everything I am, humans. But since you'll hear of things soon enough anyway, I will tell you this much. Kou Cao tried to fill the void left by Sigma's departure, but he has much to claim yet. To achieve total dominion, he's joined hands with a warlord who has in his possession certain…unique technologies." His voice dropped a few notches. "Seven soldiers have joined the warlord. Originally there were five, all of whom joined of their own free will…but two were added rather recently to even out the group's power."

            Victor drew a sharp breath. "So they were kidnapped."

            "And you?" Carlos asked pointedly. "What's your role in this?"

            "I am a simple courier," Magna answered him, a grin in his voice. "I'm also passable with a keyboard."

            "Passable," Carlos replied smoothly to the infamous hacker. "Sure."

            "What about our mission?" Victor got back to business. "Is the target still the same?"

            "Your orders remain as they stood when Helm gave them to you." Magna retrieved a black case from below the table and fitted the Nexnecis canisters inside. "Transports for Tokyo leave on the hour from North Station. Set your trap and return here with absolute haste. Helm wants things wrapped up by the weekend."

            "That's two days," Victor pointed out.

            "So it is." The insectoid leaned back and luxuriously stretched all six of his limbs. "Do us all a favor and try not to get caught. I severely doubt the Hunters will be willing to forgive a slight like this."

            "We know what we're doing," Carlos said firmly, taking the case from the Maverick and nodding to Victor. "Let's go. We can start reconnaissance as soon as we arrive."

            "Works for me." Victor tipped an imaginary hat to Magna Centipede. "Later, then. Same time, same place?"

            "Correct." The Maverick smiled as the two humans turned and left the lab with their lethal weapon in tow. Then he turned back to the largest computer monitor in the room, letting the flickering white light it emanated cast a jumpy insect shadow behind him while curling his mandibles in a strange grin. "How curious is this…?" he mused aloud, cupping his chin in his upper right arm. "Humans and Mavericks, working together to bring down the Maverick Hunters?"

            The computer screen glowed bright green for the barest of seconds before resuming its dance of white light. The event was not lost on Magna Centipede, and his grin merely grew wider.

            "Such delicious irony comes but rarely in this imperfect world. The only thing tastier shall be the horror in their eyes when they learn the truth." He reactivated his cloaking device, shrinking to the form of a humanoid scientist once more. With a flourish of his lab coat, "Mr. Maglev" approached the doorway, stopping only to remotely deactivate the computer behind him. He tossed it one final salute before leaving.

            "Well then…to war!"