The auditorium was Maverick Hunter's single largest room, able to host a maximum of thirty-thousand occupants in its classical coliseum-style seating arrangement. It was also its newest and costliest superstructure, which many members of the organization regarded as nothing more than a grandiose public relations front for what few external affairs were conducted by the HQ – the press, indeed, enjoyed covering the events, and Maverick Hunter, in turn, enjoyed the positive publicity. Zero had always been rather fond of the pomp it represented, insofar as he wished that the job was anywhere near as glorious as that initial ceremony made it seem.
But true glory was not the lot of a Maverick Hunter, as true glory was a righteous satisfaction unmarred by such regret as that which haunted the sleep of every last member of the force. They never knew true peace in their work, menaced by the constant fear that at any moment, the ones whom they had come to trust would, by no fault of their own, turn against them, and need to be destroyed at their own hands. Eventually, the idea of trust became a foreign entity, replaced by a quiet enmity … especially for those who were different. As long as the Maverick threat persisted and their duty was necessitated, such suspicion and unrest was to be their lot in life.
Zero knew the discrimination better than anyone, and the pangs of regret most of all. Especially at this moment, where the intuition he had forcibly ignored, out of habit of suspecting the worst at all times, had landed him as a captive, and promised to endanger the safety of a full house in the auditorium ahead.
Today the press would get a different kind of story – a firsthand impression on the hideous underpinnings of Maverick Hunter.
Click-clack, click-clack. The ascent up the staircases, which Zero found sadly unguarded.
Screeeech. The door to the balcony opening, Sigma careful to quietly and quickly push it shut.
Pitpitpit. Their carpeted footsteps as they neared that open end of the balcony, where it would all end.
Applause were currently erupting as a blue two-tone Reploid received a handshake from the commander, Signas, on the stage that was at the center of the auditorium. Zero had been silently wondering how Sigma would project his voice over the din of the crowd, and apparently that was one eventuality Sigma had accounted for. With a dripping hand, he flicked a switch on his torso, the amplified sound of his breathing now enough to draw attention away from the stage.
The crowd collectively strained to see the source of the commotion above, gasps arising from some of the curious faces. As more and more people turned to stare, the curiosity turned to worry, and a distinct cry of "He's taken a hostage!" brought on full-blown panic.
"SILENCE! ALL OF YOU!" Sigma bellowed over the screams. "Shut up, or I'll shoot him! I'll shoot him and toss him over the side of this balcony!"
The screams ceased and the crowd quieted, as much as could be expected in a crowd its size. Zero's heart sank. He sincerely hoped the remaining noise wouldn't be enough to upset Sigma any further.
Shut the hell up, all of you…
"That's better." Sigma glared at the occupants of the balcony who hadn't run off once he showed up, quickly dispersing them. It was just Sigma and Zero up there, now, presiding over a ceremony frozen in terror.
A thought occurred to Zero, making his gut clench. He scanned the crowd intently, seeking the one face he would undoubtedly recognize… and finding it, his breath caught sharply in his throat.
There, in the eighth row.
Iris.
"Ladies and gentlemen, now that I have your attention, I would like to announce my intentions here today. Thanks to my cooperative assistant, Zero, I'm sure you'll have no objections. And, to show that I'm serious…"
Sigma slammed Zero hard in the back with his shoulder, the brunt causing him to double over the railing. Zero caught his first dizzying glimpse of the ground directly below, which confirmed the lethality of a fall from their present height. But he knew there would be no such fall – Sigma required his continued service as a hostage to complete his objective. In fact, Zero thought, it could be that he was the safest member of the crowd that day.
A unanimous, sustained gasp of shock was heard, along with the clacking of shutters of news camera Reploids. The blow had been unexpectedly forceful given Sigma's condition, worsening the pain in the spot where he'd been jabbing Zero with his gun. Zero put his hands to the railing and pushed himself weakly upright, his eyes speaking a plea of apology into Iris's. She stared back, wide eyes shining, a concerned hand to her lips.
The moment he could make out Sigma in the corner of his eye, the first moment he'd seen him in full since he propped his inert body against the walls of the hallway, he was overcome with an anger so seething that made him tremble. If anything happens to her, I'll… His face contorted into a mask of hate as the thought went through his mind. It was left unfinished as Sigma interrupted in his deafeningly loud baritone.
"Now then, my demands are quite simple, and I trust they will just as simply be met." Zero let out a yelp as Sigma yanked roughly at his hair, parading him along the length of the balcony. "I will be made the new Commander of Maverick Hunter, and my subordinates, who will now come forth from within the crowd, will replace the likes of this Hunter here," he gave another hard tug on Zero's hair, " and all of his comrades."
Zero's heart sank even further as nine apparent Mavericks, one of whom was among the chosen recruits onstage, revealed their concealed armaments and herded the audience into huddled masses at the end of each row. The lone aisle that led to the exit was now flooded top to bottom with terrified Reploids and people, some crying, others shouting.
The Mavericks had taken positions in each of the eight rows to oversee their operation. The coup would have been impressive in its organization if by its nature it didn't spur revulsion.
Signas hadn't moved from where he stood since the moment it had all begun, alone on the stage now save for the blue Reploid he had just inducted into the force. Zero was confused – the blue Reploid, who sported a plain-looking Buster-model blaster on his left arm, did not appear to be a ninth Maverick, yet he was acting as such, and no one was taking notice of the clandestine hand signals he was sending to the Commander. Maybe a clever ploy of his own to save them both? Zero wondered, desperately hoping that Sigma would fail to take notice of the impostor.
