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 Four Last Audacity
"This is all we got?" Milan eyed the stockpile of weapons with a nervous frown.
"Yes." Shawl answered from her spot against a concrete pillar.
"What about the plasma weapons?"
"Couldn't find them."
He looked to Trant, eyes prodding an explanation.
"I checked them when I began my shift. I don't know what happened to them if they weren't there." He slung a pack and tossed it next to the weapons cache. "I smuggled a half dozen plasma pistols from the locker in my hut. Mark ones and a three. Nothing fancy, but better than solid lead slugs. Which reminds me, I also got a few clips of adamantium tipped bullets for any snipers we've got around. Those can punch through three centimeters of steel with no problem."
"Good. Anything else?"
"Just the armor on my back and a lucky directional mine."
Milan sighed, rubbing his hair in frustration. "Damn it."
"We can still fight Neo-Arcadia with this, don't worry." Shawl stepped to the center of the conversation, hoping to raise spirits. "It may be tough, but all we need to do is confuse them so badly that we can slip out and to the ruins at Pyrric Square. Don't forget that we're just making a diversion."
"A weak one, at that."
"Better than just trying to leave and being taken away for an 'evaluation' of our mental health. We're prisoners, and if we want to stage a jail-break, then we must do something to get everyone's attention away from the real deal."
Milan poked a hand into the bag, drawing out a polished and dark steel gray pistol. He looked at it, appreciating the weight and ease of aim it had. The pistol recognized the sensor nodes in his grip, thus allowing the gun to draw its power right from his microfusion reactor. Hopefully, with some quick training, he would be able to adapt his energy matrix to force enough power into the weapon to give it a powerful charged burst of plasma.
"Well, what now?" Trant muttered, looking around at the number of reploids resting in the area.
Milan looked around as well, recognizing some faces but starting at a majority of new ones. These were the people brave enough to meet at the crossroads. Of course, not on the official floors of the cafe, but in its upper stories long abandoned to dust and time. A few dozen, and they would be splitting up to cause a ruckus all around the city to start their revolt and retreat. The civilians, anyone who wasn't willing or able to fight, were gathering at Pyrric Square under Pic and Cale's leadership. Once the battle was commenced, they were to retreat down the concrete storm channels towards the city limits and to the southern ruins.
"Milan?"
He looked back to the ex-security reploid. "Sorry, just thinking."
"No time for that, now." Trant huffed. "We're all here, so why not get it over with?"
Milan hesitated, anxiety running rampant through his mind. The risks seemed all the larger now, and that the meager hope they held was never going to be enough to get them through. There was still time to call it off. Wasn't there another way to get away from here without risking your life?
'No! I've dug this trap, and I'm going to set it for those Arcadian bastards! I can't give up hope. I can't give up on everyone here and let them suffer!'
"Okay, let's get-"
"Sir! Mister Milan, Sir!" A voice shouted from the hallways.
Milan hesitated, seeing one of the fresh-faced reploids huffing on the staircase. "What is it?"
"It's Miss Ciel, Sir, she's-"
"Come on, let me through now!" A female voice complained. "Milan? Are you in there?" The owner of the voice scooted around the reploid, walking to the essential leader of the resistance fighters. She was dressed conservatively, a black skinsuit similar to reploid issue suits, a pink skirt and vest, durable boots and a helmet with communication equipment within. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, still hanging past her waist and bobbing with her stride.
"Ciel?" Milan was surprised. She was supposed to be with Pic and the civilians. "Why are you here?"
"I've found something! Something that could help us fight Neo-Arcadia!" She reached into a pocket, drawing out a data tablet. "Here, everyone, take a look."
Several reploids crowded around her, and Milan had to shove one aside to get a good view. She clicked through several layers of documentation, then into an encrypted section of her work. Once inside, a humanlike image was shown with various bits of data circling around it. The figure wasn't in clear detail, but it looked strangely like Ciel herself. Black skinsuit, red armor, long golden ponytail and a helmet with angular fins on the side.
"What's this?" He asked the scientist.
She grinned. "I was looking through old Neo-Arcadian files about reploid history, and I found this file hidden deep in their servers. Apparently this is a powerful warrior from our past, one that worked to stop maverick reploids and eliminate the Sigma Virus."
"What's so special about that?" Trant grunted. "We don't need a history lesson, missy."
"Let me finish! I looked up all the information I could on this reploid, and apparently he was somehow connected to this Sigma Virus. He sealed himself away to try and get it purged from his body, and nothing was heard of his since." She switched to another file. "No official report was made on his disappearance, but a lot of people left rumors and information about where he may be sleeping. I compiled all this and-"
"Missy, this had better go somewhere." Trant interrupted again, glaring at her with deadly brown eyes.
"Zero!" She cried, pushed too far. "It's the legendary Maverick Hunter Zero! I compiled all this information, and according to it, Zero is resting somewhere inside the ruins of the southern city!"
That brought a deathly silence to the room, everyone taking a moment to absorb the meaning of the words. Most of the reploids in the world knew of the exploits surrounding the famed leader of the Maverick Hunter's Zero unit. He, alongside with the equally infamous Megaman X, were the foundation of the effort to stop Sigma and his intense hatred of humanity. He had died and was resurrected, once for certain and possibly a second time. He could render any enemy to scrap with his saber, learned in arts that no other reploid could match. He was the strongest reploid ever made, a legend, a god among mortals.
"Z-Zero is there?" Milan sputtered. "The southern ruins?"
"Yes." Ciel nodded, a wide smile on her face. "You know what that means, don't you? If he in still sleeping there, then we can wake him and have him fight with us."
"But would he?" Someone asked.
"He was always looking for justice. Once he sees what Master X has done, he won't have any seconds thoughts." Ciel closed the files and slid the tablet back into her vest pocket. "Don't you all see? We don't need to run from Neo-Arcadia anymore! We can search for Zero and stand our ground against them!"
"But we've already made up our minds to go for Cragspoint! You want us to stay here and fight? How can we fight them!?"
"We don't all need to fight, just hold them off long enough for me to find him."
"Not alone you will!" Milan barked. "I don't want you to risk yourself looking for this legendary hunter. Give me the tablet and I'll look for him with some of the men."
"But you need to be with them." Ciel waved to the others present.
"I'm just one man, Ciel, and I'd need only a few others. Everyone else knows what to do." He looked to the security reploid. "Trant, can you take the lead of the men?"
"Me!? You're seriously going on a hunt for this legend based on some rumors?" He laughed harshly. "We've got bad enough odds on surviving long enough to escape. How can you just trust her so quickly?"
"I trust her, Trant. I trust her with my life, and she trusts me with hers. If you're so worried, then she and I can go alone and leave you only one man short."
The reploid glowered, crossing his arms and daring them on. Milan met his glare with an equal intensity. Both were once part of the civilian security corps, and both were trained in warfare and how to lead men. Sometimes, in regards to experience and ability in leadership, the two came to butt heads over who was better qualified. Now the differences between them was a chasm, and neither were willing to try and leap to see the others point of view.
Milan broke contact first. "I see. Come on, Ciel, we can go it alone."
"Are you sure?" She quivered.
"Yes."
Milan started to the stairwell, Ciel following, when Trant growled in frustration. Five other reploids followed them, and Milan gave the security reploid a grin and a nod of thanks. The two and five descended the stairs, secreted themselves through an alleyway, then began the long march to the ruins and to the salvation that awaited them. Trant barked out his orders to begin the attacks all over the city, waiting with grim determination to cross swords with Neo-Arcadia's eventual damnation.
>>>
"Hey!"
Pic mumbled in his sleep something akin to go away.
"Hey hey! Wake up, man! Back to the living with you!" He reached over and slapped the other's shoulder.
"Eh?" Pic yawned, eyes half open from his too short nap. "What is it?"
"We've got word from Trant is what!" Hirondelle replied. "Apparently Miss Ciel's found some legendary weapon in the southern ruins! She 'n Milan are making for it right now, so we'll be expecting them soon!"
"Okay."
"Oh, and the attacks are starting up, too."
Pic floundered. "Why'd you leave that for last! It's more important than some weapon!"
"Well, it's the last thing I want to dwell on, see? Besides, all we gotta to is start moving our folks out and to safety."
"Right! Come on, let's get going, then!"
The two stood up and spread the word among the fighting reploids present with everyone else. Pyrric Square was looking too crowded to avoid suspicion. Nearly five hundred reploids had taken heed of the words from the rebels, and they were all milling around the grounds with all their worldly goods on their backs. Pic hadn't anticipated this many to come, but Hirondelle laughed it off. Told you I knew a lot of folks willing to come, he joked.
"Okay, everyone!" Pic shouted to the crowd. "It's time. Everyone follow me and the others dressed in green suits! We'll be going through the flood channels to the magrail lines! From there we go to the southern ruins to make temporary camp, and from thereon out it's freedom or bust!"
The gathering reploids cheered and whistled, all marching in order with the greensuits that led the way. Their cheers, however, turned to screams of panic and fear when a hovercarrier swooped over the grounds and deposited a group of patheon drones.
The exodus began in earnest, encouraged by plasma and flame.
>>>
"Come on!!" Trant bellowed, firing his assault rifle at the patheons drones that ran for their position like mindless sheep to the slaughter. "Come and get it!"
Cale punctuated his shots with a grunt or laugh of satisfaction. His pistol, one of the few plasma weapons on their side of the battlefield, was taking out a unit with each shot. He pulled the trigger, a sphere of plasma encased in a magnetic field, shot out and slammed into a drone, eating away the thin armor and devouring it's torso in a miniature fireball.
"We're doing it!" Trant cried. "Keep it up!"
"No, we've got to fall back and start our retreat!" Cale insisted, backing away from his cover and glacing for an out to the edges of the city. "Besides, my gun's getting low on energy!"
"Is it time already? Let's get moving then!" He began backing away as well, sniping at the few patheons left on the street. "Everyone fall back, it's time to disappear!"
A chorus of replies came back, and the few dozen reploids all retreated from the field. The few wounded were assisted by others, the first casualty left on the street with a feral cry locked on his features. They all fled into the alleys, slinking through lots and into abandoned buildings. They all knew the routes to get outside of the city, be it the main roads or alleys or even underground pipes. Each had memorized the maps that led from Neo-Arcadia to the ruins, and knew that they had twenty four hours to make the crossing and join the others.
Cale kept up with Trant's pace, the bulky reploid moving quicker than he seemed able to. "How many you get?"
"Nine of 'em!" Trant cried. "I can't believe that they were so weak! I wasn't even using my adamantium rounds!"
"Save 'em for the bigguns, they'll come knowing our luck!"
"You bet I will!"
The two dashed through the alleys, looking behind if anyone was following that shouldn't be. Fortune kept with them during their flight to the limits of the metropolis. A quick check of a street, then a blind sprint across and into the foliage of Pyrric Square and they were on the way to safety.
"Anything?" Trant asked.
"Nope." Cale replied, eyes scanning the skies for any aerial threats.
"Let's move."
They pushed through the thickets surrounding the square, and entered a bloodbath.
"The hell?" Trant gasped.
"Oh no...no no no!" Cale stared wide-eyed at the carnage before them. Bodies were scattered everywhere, the smoking ruins of a hovercarrier sitting in the center with a dozen patheons in ruin alongside it. Reploids were lying everywhere, burned from the plasma bolts or carved in half by laser batons. Many of them were the fighters, their green armored uniforms barely suitable to stopping concentrated plasma. The farther south they looked, the more civilians were found.
"T-This can't be right!" Trant lost his balance and fell on his rear, eyes glazed over in fear. "We were doing so good! How can...they should've been easy to...how!? How did this happen?"
Cale closed his eyes, trying to force the sight from his mind. The images remained, burned into his memory. The failure was blinding him, and his fear and panic threatened to overwhelm his senses. 'No no no! How could they have found them? What happened out here!?'
"Trant..."
"I can't believe it! We gotta do something...fight them off and keep going."
"Trant!" Cale shouted. "Pull yourself together!"
He looked at Cale with panic in his eyes. "We didn't do enough, Cale!"
"Stop it! Come on, get up and stop blabbering! Look!" He picked up the reploid by his arm and pointed to the distance. "Our people are out there. We've got to catch up with them. They might still be fighting, Trant, so let's go."
"Go..."
"To the ruins, Trant! Freedom!"
"Right...right! Let's get going, then."
The two reploids passed through the rubble and bodies of the fallen, taking a moment to give respect for those who died to protect the innocent. They lifted whatever arms they could, then continued through the square and to the storm channels below. Bodies were still to be found, but less of reploids and more of patheon drones and other meager mechanoids that were nearby. The concrete channels led to a minor river the poured to the ocean, and the magrail lines passed overhead on a small bridge. A lone resistance fighter was dead by the magrail line, an arm facing south as if pointing to freedom for the two.
"Halbert." Trant moaned, mouth trying to speak the words. "I...I knew him..."
"Don't." Cale warned, knowing that stopping to think would only cost them time and grief they didn't need. He saw that despite the security member's tough attitude, he was cracking all to quickly from the pressure and stress. "Mourn later, we need to go."
"Right..."
The two reploids followed the magrail line as it wound to the south, avoiding open ground and keeping as hidden as possible in the sandy flats. They stopped under a sun baked metal carcass, resting briefly to eat a meal bar and share a canteen of water. The sun lingered in the sky as the afternoon went on, but soon began to slide back to the horizon. By nightfall, the two were exhausted from the running and walking. They ducked into a tight metal ruin, digging into the sand to make a temporary barrier to the entrance. Both knew that any observation unit would be able to detect them by heat, and that the sand door was their best hope to stay hidden the night.
Night passed all too quickly, and the two reploids woke before dawn to continue their flight to the ruins. They passed by a large collection of metal debris, finding evidence that the main group of reploids had been there the night to rest. Spirits up, they followed the disruption in the sands. The ruined city loomed in the distance, but came closer as morning wore on towards midday. The sandy ground shifted to hard packed sandstone, then to dirt and eventually stone rubble and asphalt road. Following the information given to them, they followed the city border until they reached the southernmost tip, seeing an old factory lying at the edge.
Reploids were standing in the shadows, hiding and waiting for others to come.
"Hey!" Trant shouted. "Hey!"
"Who's there!" A voice called back.
"People seeking freedom and independence!" Cale replied the line, part of the safety measures for those arriving outside the main group.
"Then come and share in the struggle!" They met Trant and Cale halfway, clasping hands and embracing as they rode the high of being able to get this far. They appeared shaken and tired, but in good health. Cale was glad, and hoped that everyone else was in good shape as well.
"What news?" He asked.
"We took some bad losses at Pyrric Square. When we started the attack, they made a strike against the crossroads. I don't think anyone made it out."
Cale clenched his teeth. The square they saw, but the crossroads was neutral ground. Neo-Arcadia must have decided to use this attack as an excuse to raid the place and kill the sympathizers that aided their revolt.
"Shawl's inside. She'll want to talk with you."
"Okay."
He and Trant went inside the ruined building, seeing that it was almost hollowed out save for a segment collapsed in from age or demolition. All the fighting reploids were posted along the walls, hiding by cracks and peering outside. At a corner, populated by the 'leaders' of the resistance, was Shawl at the control of her personal sensor array. Made of mostly scraps and spare parts, it did its job of reading certain energy signatures anywhere within three kilometers. He knew the only thing it was made to detect properly was the energy reading from a patheon. If Neo-Arcadia came for them, then they would use their limitless Patheon Phalanx to swarm over them with raw numbers.
"Shawl!" Cale called out.
She looked back, and bore a grim smile. "You made it, I see."
"Did you ever doubt that we would?"
"I was starting to. All the others made it here last night. What took you?"
"We stopped at sundown and hid out to rest." He sat down by her, resting against a wall. "What news?"
"We got reports in from Milan and Ciel. They've made a lot of progress in their search and have it pinned down to a few locations. It shouldn't be more than an hour until they find our legend."
"That's good." He sighed in relief.
"Don't get comfortable." Her tone made him flinch, and she motioned to her sensor terminal.
He looked at the piecemeal machine, checking over the screen. The top was showing a few energy signals, blips that lit up as the sensor swept over their location. A second pass and even more signals appeared. A third and the number increased tenfold. The energy readings were growing higher each time, the estimated power levels becoming insanely crowded. The terminal beeped, and a message read out in the corner. Because of the numerous variables coming so quickly, it altered its scan to give an estimated total strength of the massed readings. The numbers it showed were very familiar.
Unmistakable, in truth...