DISCLAIMER: See previous chapters.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay! Got held up by illness and schedule conflicts. But hey, got a new project going for Trey and the Team. I got the idea from those levels in the zoids GCN game I saw my friend play once. Read on to find out what I'm talking about.and get this, people started reading my other fanfic.

I started tracing the outline of the neck with my stylus as Psy grumbled about soundproofing the Hanger. I was leaning back in his cockpit, with my latest new toy across my propped knees. It was a square, handheld media screen that was currently showing a blueprint. I had a magnetic stylus in hand, making changes manually instead of using static commands. Beyond the tinted glass of the cockpit was an endless desert, the horizon changing colors every few minutes, a sunrise was coming up. I rode him out in the dark to this secluded spot, turned on some lights in the cockpit and started working.

Why? Well, Rax is currently on a three-day trip going from battle club to battle club racking up points. Clara was doing the same, driving out her Molga and carrying the Shadow Wolf on the sled, just like the old days. Sam was still in the hospital. His zoid was currently hanging from wires in an intensive repair unit back in the Whale. I'd managed to hack it into a long-term sleep mode. I believe its core, while saved from death, was in perpetual pain while it tried to heal. So this was the merciful thing to do while I anticipated my next move.

I was serious about rebuilding it. And about the new design. But it wasn't entirely out of kindness for a lone pilot who was living in the zoid he'd sold everything he had to obtain. I was doing it because if I just rebuilt the old Geno frame the core would die, and even if it lived it would never be the same due to internal memory relapse. So I had to make a new body for it that would keep it alive until it fully healed. And while I was at it, I could improve a few things. A little polishing here, some slimming here. This core was a very unique creature, why not let it express itself?

Speaking of which, last night after giving my Psycho Saix a make over with spray paint I got a call from the ZBC President. It was more of a social call though, he asked if I wanted in on a betting pool for some football game. Then said there was a discussion going on in his Cabinet about the zoids I've been making. A few of them, not sure which ones yet, have been deemed not suitable for battle purposes. Why? They have less weak points than their original forms. They're invaluable for specialty work or exploration, my Hell Digunner is revolutionizing the mining business.

But in a ZBC battle, my zoids are too much of an advantage for those who use them. Should I take this as a compliment or an insult? They want me to weaken up a few of my zoids to sell them to the battle pilots. Well, I calmly told the drunken frat boy that is our President that I will not make a zoid inferior. He then brought up the possibility of my designs in the military.

I slightly less than calmly informed him I will not make killing machines. I already had to make my Liger obsolete for terrorism by creating power diversion units for law enforcement zoids. What would happen if the Backdraft made a few hundred Geno Reapers? Or Shadow Wolves? What if they copied the design and made a mindless Psycho Saix?

"…hey, could you get me a deal doing cat foot commercials?"

…maybe that's a good idea…I dropped my stylus onto the screen, rolled my eyes and hold back a groan.

"…well, they wouldn't have to dub in a stupid voice for you…"

…wait…he had my voice…dangit, why do all my creations turn on me!

"Why'd you make me take you out here again?"

"I hate looking at my other creations when I'm designing, I keep thinking of ways to improve them. It's distracting."

A bored, but slightly realistic sigh.

"Next time take out Clara's Liger, it's bored as hell."

…maybe I would. It was the first functioning zoid I'd ever piloted. Could be good for inspiration.

"Sounds reasonable. Well, summon the Whale to pick us up. Sue's probably still out cold."

One of Psy's trademark snickers, followed by a few beeps and chimes as the controls worked themselves while I sketched.

It wasn't a slipped joke, though. That Geno battle had only been last night, Sue was still sleeping it off. She usually gets a good amount of sleep every night. Well, she does now. Back when she was living in her Snipe Master she slept a few hours a day in a series of short naps. She wasn't exactly living a stable life. Now that she has a roof over her head she's evened out. In fact she seems a bit healthier, less freakishly skinny and pale.

I've never asked about her old life. I'm pretty assured she's not a killer or a terrorist, so I could care less. The first few nights we slept in the Whale she wasn't used to the security. She even carried around her satchel with her for a day before she got used to living indoors. I'm sure she slept with a weapon under her pillow for a long while. She's probably secure enough to keep it under her bed nowadays.

As a dark speck on the twilight sky appears I think back to meeting her in that bar my first few days here. I was recovering from my first repair/upgrade job. She was recovering from a rough soldier drop-out life and an eating disorder she developed as a teen and managed to break out of. Watching this girl cook, who can believe she used to be anorexic. She eats more than I do, it's safe to say she's freakishly skinny anyway due to genetics.

I hummed an old tune as Psy jumped into the mouth hatch of the orchard-bombing Killer Whale. He parked himself and loaded up a movie channel as I jumped out to go relax. I was taking a short vacation while most of Team Reckless was away racking up points. I curled up on the couch and dozed until around nine, six hours later. The sun through the ridiculous amount of windows didn't wake me. It was the smell of whatever Sue was eating as she sat on my chest picking bacon off the plate on her lap with a fork. The media screen was playing a Saturday morning cartoon block. And she was using me as a pillow. That bitch…

I will not be used by an attractive, large breasted and well developed seductress as a cushion for her famous behind. Why do people stare at me whenever I say that? See, just like that. Stop that.

"Hey, you're awake. Good, move your arm up a bit. My lower back is killing me."

I sighed and moved my elbow up to give her some back support as she ate breakfast.

"Thanks. How's the Reaper doing?"

I yawned.

"Psy has it in working condition, but it's still repairing itself on a small scale."

"…her. It's a her."

I closed my eyes again and banged my head back on the pillow I'd stolen from Clara's room. Yah, yeah. The Reaper was supposedly female.

"…geez, Psy keeps saying the same thing…"

I heard the sound of a fork hitting the plate as she continued eating. This went on for close to ten minutes before I heard the sound of the elevator opening and four feet tapping the tile. From my fragmented line of vision underneath Sue I saw the upside-down image of Sarah's face staring at us. I saw Sue nod calmly.

"Hey, heard you two didn't have air conditioning. Don't mind this, I'm just using him as a pillow."

I grunted in annoyance before Vega's face popped up next to Sarah.

"Mom, why is Uncle Trey lying there while Sue uses him as a chair?"

Sue remarked.

"It's called equal rights. Now go fetch me a magazine before I pull a sexual harassment suit."

Vega nodded and walked off to do so as his mother rolled her eyes.

"Ryder, I really don't think my son needs to know of that. Not yet anyway."

They both chuckled as I felt my brow twitch.

"Eh…I'm still down here…"

Sarah nodded at me before going back to talking to Sue.

"Hi Chase. Hey, I saw that singles battle you did. The one with the stock Geno…"

They chirped away to each other as I waited for Sue to get up to put her dish away. Well, as if she read my simple mind she set her plate down on the table and resumed using me as a recliner.

"…Sue. I hate you."

She laughed.

"Love you too, Trey."

…she called me Trey…nobody calls me Trey anymore except…eh…Vega. Speaking of which he came back with Sue's magazine before running off to Rax's toy room. And I'm still stuck under here…

2 Hours Later

…I'm still under Sue's ass…can't feel my left side…

3 Hours Later

…I managed to shove her off and get out of there. Barely. Nearly had to chew my legs off, but I escaped. How the heck do women talk for hours on end without doing anything? Men, we talk while doing things like building something or destroying something. I thought females were known for multi-tasking, not sitting on me for hours on end chatting about…I…don't…know…

But back on track, that Geno Core I'm going to modify is starting to stabilize. Psy gave me a readout on its vitals, during the night its pain readings have declined sharply and its other functions are staying steady. Another day or so and I may be able to start building the new body. You see, this core is nearly totaled. This new body will keep it alive and promote healing for the first few weeks before bouncing back into battle condition. When that time comes, this standard Geno will develop into a freak zoid I'd be proud to rent a space for in my garage.

In fact this is why I was where I was, in that old scrapped Empire Base. I rented a hover-sled to drag behind Psy as I directed him where to dig. We were in the shadowed interior, the light coming from a light attached to the Saix's head and from a nearby doorway. I was hunched over a night vision camera monitor telling Psy what to awkwardly pick up with a paw and dump on the sled. Why didn't I just order the parts? Well, these outdated, and possibly illegal parts were piled up to the ceiling in this old base.

And once I scrap or use all the millions of parts in here, I'd be able to explore this place a bit more. It's a historical area after all, and a huge one at that. I found some old blueprints of this place from back in the War, it was a ground unit base. At first glance, it was rows and rows of low square buildings, with a very large rectangular one in the center. This large super-hanger as they called them could accommodate several large transport zoids. It used to have a large step-like tower thing about ten stories high, for aerial launches and recon abilities. Well, it had. The tower and pretty much the top of the hanger had been toppled off, leaving a roofless ruin of the great hanger. The dozens of buildings surrounding it were untouched, filled with dead zoid parts and items left over from the decades since the war ended. I'm guessing there were close to fifty of these little warehouse buildings surrounding the ruined main one.

And my favorite part. The entire group of buildings was surrounded by a two-story wall with a double-lane walkway on the top with yet more towers. Two zoids could walk side by side atop it. Some sections had been torn down, probably in the attack that leveled the superhanger, but the whole deal looked awesome from most angles.

And here I was, cleaning out a 'tiny' hanger that could hold six zoids. There were forty nine more of these and the super-hanger left. This place was too big a clean up job to restore, it'd make a fine ZBC base. And nobody would buy it due to the secluded location. Nothing near here except a river that heads into the Lake and a few canyons. My little lecture to myself was cut short by that damn zoid.

"…so…this place for sale?"

This sent me into a double take as we turned to the door and dragged the sled out into the maze-like alley between the buildings and started toward missing wall section.

"Why? You win the lottery?"

He reached up with his left paw and manually clicked off the light I'd strapped onto his head.

"…this place once held nearly five hundred zoids and their pilots. And an entire military unit and their mechanics."

"And the janitor. What's your point?"

We started off at a slow jog, the sled weighing us down.

"What if somebody rebuilt it? Maybe added on even. This place could pass as a small city."

…actually a medium sized city. But what's he getting at?

"Yeah, it's a big place."

"Chase. Every day those zoids make you more money than the yearly salary for some zoid pilots. What was your last major purchase."

"…a candy bar."

"See? You never buy anything! Spend one day's paycheck on this dump and rebuild it."

"Why would we need a city-sized Zoids Base?"

The city of Vigilia popped up on the horizon. I pushed a button to call Sue to pick us up.

"…it'd be a self contained environment. Rig up a few solar panels and a hydro generator on the river through runs next to the place."

"…next to the place…"

"Reroute the river!"

"Psy, did you watch that show where the music stars show off their houses?"

"…no, not sine you blocked the channel."

I face-palmed myself as the Whale appeared in the faded blue sky.

"…I'm going to buy and rebuild an Imperial Base…because a talking zoid told me to…"

"…yeah. You are one crazy bastard."

Author's Notes

...yes he is...so, what do you think? Some solid ground place for the Team to crash? Who am I kidding, you people are probably having fantasies about it already.