This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.

Enjoy...

: : The High Road of Honor : :

Chapter two The Set

Four days earlier...

"Say what!?" Pic gaped. "You want to stay and fight them?"

Milan nodded. "Yes."

The raven-haired reploid nearly lost his balance, holding out an arm to level himself. "Oh man, you've gotta be kidding! We can't fight Neo-Arcadia, they'll just wipe us out!"

"No, we've got to try and stop them." Milan reiterated, crossing his arms. "It will be difficult, but we don't have a choice."

"What about trying to escape from them? Did that ever cross your mind?"

"Escape to where?" Shawl added, motioning to the south. "The only thing that around us is wasteland and dense jungles. The closest city outside of Arcadia is Hokkaido, and that's little more than a weapon-making factory. Sure, we could try for Cragspoint, but we'd have to travel over three hundred kilometers across barren land and worry about the Jin'en Regiment swooping down on us."

"But...!" He choked up on his words, seeing an end to his argument. The redheaded intelligence officer had always been blunt about her opinions. Her equally red eyes gave little sign to remorse for her statements.

"We've got to try and start a coordinated attack against them." She continued. "If we just stay scattered like this, then we'll be stamped out for sure."

"Which is why we need to go and find others to help fight." Milan took up the speech, borrowing from Shawl's strong words. "I know that you wanted to start an underground effort to bring reploids out of this place and to safety. Even if we must fight, there are still many others who are willing to help us. We've already got some contacts to help, and one is in the civilian security corps. With his help we can break into their armory to get weapons, then start our fight against Neo-Arcadia."

Pic arched an eyebrow. "Who is this contact? I've never heard of this."

"His name is Trant, and he is a shift leader for security on the armory. He can shut down the automated defense drones and security measures on the building for a time. Hopefully it'll be long enough to get the weapons we need and get out before any patheons arrive."

Pic mused on the words, trying to rope together a rough idea of what Milan wanted to do. The reploid was also a member of the security corps, but left to deal with his little revolution. Somehow he had met enough people to see the big picture and a weakness he wanted to exploit. Rumor had it that one of his contacts was a bigwig in the command structure of Neo-Arcadia itself. Originally he wanted to simply leave and take as many with him as possible. Now he was plotting a full-blown revolt against the government? It was as drastic a change as any he heard yet.

"So then, what would you have us do with these weapons? Stand in the streets and call out Neo-Arcadia like some grand tournament of good against evil? We'll be run down as soon as we face the Phalanx, and you know they'll call it out if we act too boldly."

Milan's eyes shrouded in doubt, but he held himself resolute despite the obvious flaw in his plan. "We've got to try. Trant said that there's a collection of plasma weapons held in the armory, mark three pistols and mark two rifles."

That drew Pic's attention. The mark three pistol was a powerful package that could, with the right training, build up a plasma bolt large enough to demolish a patheon unit in one shot. The rifle could fire a barrage of plasma pellets to riddle an enemy with holes in a snap. That firepower was looked on as the holy grail of freedom. With those weapons in hand, then victory could be attained. "Plasma weapons..."

"That's right. With those we could fight the patheon on equal grounds. See this uniform?" He tugged on the sleeve of his green outfit. His appearance was strange compared to the others. Whereas the civilians wore mostly colorful clothes or scraps of cloth cobbled into cloaks, Milan was in a pristine black skinsuit and jade green pants and vest, a beret topping the appearance. "This isn't just a set of clothes. It's millititanim fiber, tough enough to take conventional arms fire with ease and even plasma shots to a degree."

"And the armory has them?" Pic asked.

"Yes."

The cynical reploid again paused to think on the plan. While it sounded good, he knew too well that it was built on too many ifs and maybes.

"Come on, Pic, make a decision." Shawl muttered. "You're the third makes a crowd man, we need your input to do this."

He snorted. Just because he prided himself on being a leader and thinker he was thrust into a place like this. "I don't know."

"We can't waste time with I-don't-knows! Choose one or another, dammit!"

"Don't think to boss me around, ladybird." Pic sneered. "It's not like you're any better at this!"

"Quit it, you two!" Milan shouted. "We don't have the time to argue like kids. Shawl, I know you want to get this over with. You want to make sure that we stay safe, Pic, and I respect that. You both need to understand that our freedom can only come when we push Neo-Arcadia out of our way. There's no way out except for fighting."

"What about your contacts, Milan! You said you've got friends in high places, can't you get them to make Neo-Arcadia ease up on the restrictions? Can't we negotiate to have the reploids sent to other regions if they think we're dangerous?"

At this Milan snorted in disgust. "Don't be a fool. You know who's my highest contact, Pic? Care to guess?"

Pic smirked, leaning against a pillar. "General Leviathan, maybe? You've got a pretty face, and I'm sure she's willing to-"

A crack to the cheek knocked Pic aside and to the floor, Milan holding a fist to ward any retaliation. "Don't be an ass. You want to know who it is? It's the person who leads right next to Master X as an advisor and scientist."

Pic rubbed his chin, aggravated at Milan's brashness. When the words hit home, he froze and stared into the distance. "No..."

"Yes." Milan grinned maliciously. "Head of cyber-elf studies and energy research and sole spokeswoman for reploid-rights, our very own Doctor Ciel."

"No!" Pic screamed in panic. "It can't be her!"

"Yes it is! The only person who bothers to help reploids keep their rights, and she wants to defect from Neo-Arcadia and join us to escape and work on her research unfettered! She is our best hope for peace with Neo-Arcadia, and she's already given up!"

Pic nearly wept at the news. He held out all hopes that they could negotiate with the Arcadians, to find some middle ground to save them from being 'retired' and sent away. The energy crisis was looming in the future, and Master X saw that ridding the world of reploids was the best option to prevent the world from collapsing any further than it had. Humanity sought to kill its children to bring about their own salvation. Without Ciel, the moral leash holding Master X back, reploids all over the continent and the world would feel his wrath.

"Well, what do you have to say about peace and negotiations?" Milan asked.

"I...I'll..."

"I'll what?"

"I'll go along with it!" He shouted, head lolling back to stare at the ceiling. "And doom any chances that we had left..."

"Then it's agreed." Milan smirked in satisfaction. "Shawl, let's contact the others and let them know. I'll get in touch with Trant and Ciel. We'll commence the operation once we have her in safe hands."

"Gotcha." She turned and began a brisk walk to the doors leading outside.

Milan looked to Pic. "You can try and raise more numbers for this. Talk with Cale and Hirondelle, they know a lot of types who'll come along."

"Sure."

"Don't slack off, Pic, we need as many men as we can get. Peace was never a choice for us."

"I know." He sighed, standing.

"Good." He turned and walked to the set of doors, leaving the dark haired reploid alone with his thoughts.

'It's started now. I've just opened Pandora's box, and there's going to be hell to pay. I've just doomed any chance we had to live in peace...'

>>>

"That wasn't necessary." Shawl commented once Milan caught up with her.

He met her stride, walking calmly down a sparsely occupied sidewalk. "Yes it was. Pic may be a good man, but he's too much a pacifist to see the dangers peace have on their own."

"Still, you could have been nicer about it."

"Don't lecture me, Shawl, I've had enough of it."

"And Ciel is the inner contact? I can't believe she'd want to run out with us."

He pursed his lips. "She was the one who first gave me the idea to stage a revolt and escape in the confusion. Master X is looking at her as less an ally and more a traitor in his midst. If we don't get her out soon, I fear he might have her killed and declare open war on all reploids. Her research is too important to lose."

"This will do just the same thing, though, start a war between reploids and humans."

"Except we'll have Ciel to help us. The coming energy crisis is most of the problem that Neo-Arcadia has with reploids. If she can develop an alternate energy supply to aid our demand for power, then they'll lose their reason to kill us."

"What about the supposed risk of us going 'maverick'?"

"That's just an excuse! Humans steal, murder, and attack themselves all the time, but they don't choose to kill all humans to fix the problem. We're as human as they are, and some of us are prone to being criminals just like they are. There haven't been any true mavericks in years."

"Except humans don't want to see that distinction. It must be too hard for them to accept that they're just as wicked as we can be." She rubbed her head, twirling a red spike of hair around her fingers. "They don't want to admit that their creations are as flawed as they themselves are."

"We aren't flawed, it's just part of human nature."

"But is it part of reploid nature?"

"We're programmed to learn about the world from what we see. If we act violent, we must've learned it from someone, right?"

Shawl snickered her agreement. "True enough."

They remained quiet until they reached a public communication port on a street corner. Like phone booths of old, it was battered and worn out from the elements of nature and criminal tagging. Scanning in the meager payment for the call, Milan used his integrated Comm link to send a call to his man within the armory. Trant, hopefully, would be at his post within the security hut at the gate of the military building. Shawl leaned against a wall, relaxed that her counterpart would fix the details in his private conversation.

'Neo-Arcadia facility thirteen, Trant speaking.'

'It's me, Trant.'

A pause. 'Oh yes, Milan, what's up?'

'Want to meet for some coffee after your shift's up? I hear the place is testing a new drink.'

'Sounds good. What kind of drink is it?'

'They take some coffee and blend in a dollop of honey, then add a dash of spicy herbs to give it an extra kick.'

'Sounds good. I'll meet you there after work.'

'Alright.'

'See you then.'

'Right. Bye.'

He cut the communication, then looked at Shawl. "He knows. We'll meet at the crossroads once his shift is done to flesh any last details into the operation."

"Right. I'll take a walk and call up the others." She turned to leave, glancing back with a smirk. "I'll leave Doctor Ciel up to you."

"Sure." He gave a thumb's up. "Be risky."

"Risk to gain." She replied in turn with a chuckle.

>>>

"Hirondelle!" Pic shouted into the pitch dark tunnel. "You there!? Hirondelle!"

Silence came back from the large drainage pipe, dry and stale from a lack of sufficient rain. He knew the homeless reploid made this part of the city his home, and that he had no excuse to wander anywhere else. He walked to the lip of the pipe and climbed into it, able to stand upright and still not touch the top. He looked as far in as the light pierced, and no sign of the poor man was visible.

"Hirondelle!" Pic shouted long and loud, the name echoing down the pipe for many eerie seconds.

Nothing.

He sighed, then reached into the pocket of his musty jacket and pulled out a paper wrapped object. "I've got a free lunch for you if you show!"

A head suddenly popped out of a secondary access pipe. "Food? Real food?"

"BLT with extra pepper."

A body slid out along with the head, and Hirondelle ambled over to Pic with a hungry grin on his face. He snatched it and devoured half before he talked. "You treat me too well, man, much obliged."

"Can't very well come without a meal for my friend, can I?"

"Don't even suggest you wouldn't! Living on water for two months can really get a guy down on his hopes."

"You lived."

"Yeah, but do you know how dull it was? I could barely move at all, just enough to get from the stream and back here to sleep." He grimaced. "Gods, that water tastes like rust and death."

"Well enjoy the meal, it's the last we may get for a while."

He paused, the last morsel of sandwich in his fingers. "The last? Why?"

Pic sighed. "We agreed on the plan. We're starting the revolt in a few days."

Hirondelle gulped the last of the sandwich and licked his fingers. "I suppose it was due to come sooner or later, eh?"

"Yeah. We've got a man to give us arms and protection, but little else. We'll be making attacks all over the city, and I guess we'll leave in the confusion."

"Did our Greenman tell you anything else?"

He nodded. "We'll be taking someone important with us, too...Doctor Ciel."

Hirondelle arched an eyebrow. "The Miss Ciel? She's coming with us? Us!?"

Another nod.

"Well, if this isn't the best of news I've ever heard! Miss Ciel is a great scientist and engineer. If we ever needed someone to help us survive without Neo-Arcadia trying to kill us, it's her!"

"But it's still going to be dangerous. We might not even live to get away."

Hirondelle laughed, slapping Pic's shoulder. "Don't worry about living or dying, bro, it's a moot point if we can't get away from this place! Better to die on the way to paradise than never try for it at all."

"If you say so."

"I do! Sleeping and eating in the wastes of a place like this is just as bad as death, even worse to some!"

"So you're up to it?"

"More than up to it, friend!"

"Alright. Could you talk with the others around here? Let them know that the revolts will happen when we give the word, and not before. If we make a move without everyone behind it, Neo-Arcadia will see right through it and blow us apart. Get them together, I'll be in contact with the details soon."

"Alright! 'Till then, my man!"

"'Till then." The two slapped hands together, parting ways to spread rumors of a war.