The nightlife in New Tokyo was not much different than Dan remembered it. The same streetlights lit the same areas of the roads, the dim, yellow illuminations somehow serving to amplify the shadows that they were supposed to drive away. The same stores were open, neon and blinking lights shining brilliantly, enticing the simple minded to walk in their doors. Moreover, the same damn idiots drove down the roads, causing all kinds of accidents, like a three car pileup that Dan passed.
His hands hung loosely by his side, swaying slightly with his pace. His posture was somewhat slouched, his head bowed in thought.
So much has changed… what am I going to do with myself now? Where can I go?
In all honesty, Dan did not have much of a clue. Before his unfortunate brush with 'death', he had a semester of college tucked under his belt - too bad that his field of choice was accounting. He was sure that the presence of reploids had changed the economy enough that his limited knowledge was nearly useless.
With a heavy sigh, Dan continued to plod down the sidewalks of the city.
Storefronts, office buildings, warehouses, markets, mini-malls… all melted into a generic metropolis in his eyes. His traveling was aimless, drifting from one side of New Tokyo to the next without any regard for anyone he happened to pass. Some were human, some were reploid - all ignored him in favor of their own troubles. Dan did not mind them. It was better than being the center of attention as he had been for the past two days.
Farther and farther he walked, leaving the pristine uptown behind and entering the seedier parts. The visual change was not immediate. It was more of an ambient feeling, that this area of the city was more rundown than the rest of it. However, the sights did gradually change - going from polished metal and maintained vinyl into a mixture of dull red and gray bricks covered with graffiti and faded posters. After a short while, a voice booming over a loud speaker caught his attention. It was a rich voice that carried with it a sense of purpose and honesty. Curious, Dan headed towards it.
--------------
It had been only a short walk to the source of the voice. Dan turned a corner, finding himself in a large parking lot. Instead of numerous vehicles filling the spots, there was a multitude of people, mostly reploid but some human, gathered around a large podium, several lights illuminating the man standing on it. He was a reploid, his clothing relatively plain but noticeably marked by the image of the Cross on the front for all to see.
It was an evangelist if Dan ever saw one.
Interested at hearing how a reploid would preach, Dan leaned up against a nearby signpost, crossed his arms, and listened.
"My brothers, humans and reploids are more alike than any of us think," the reploid shouted out, swaying his arms to emphasis his speech. "We are both imbued by the Lord with a soul. Yes, we reploids do have a soul. We laugh, we cry, we rage, we cheer, we do everything that humans can do. And our soul remains, even after this body has decayed.
"I can sense you all asking yourselves, 'But reploids are machines, and can be repaired.' I freely admit that this is true. But have any of you ever read about reploid resurrection? It is a dangerous process, and even if it is successful, the revived reploid never retains all of his memories and feelings from his previous life."
"What about when Zero was resurrected?" asked a timid male voice from the audience. The preacher dove into the question without hesitation.
"The great Maverick Hunter Zero is the sole exception to this. Those who lived during Sigma's first Maverick Uprising know that Zero sacrificed himself for Megaman X, and was brought back to life six months later, with no side effects. This, my brothers, is nothing less than a miracle! It should be obvious that the Lord's hand guided Zero's spirit back into his body to continue His work.
"My point is this, brethren: just as it was written in the Holy Scriptures, our bodies are merely vessels for our souls. Whether that body is made of flesh and bone or wire and metal makes no difference. We, both humans and reploids, are more than the sum of out parts!"
The preacher's voice resounded before the receptive crowd, each one taking it in. To some, it was a confirmation of beliefs they already held. To others, it was a serious matter to ponder. For a few, it was the biggest load of lies they ever heard. The preacher took a deep breath while he mentally prepared for what he was to say next.
"My brothers, you have all heard about Daniel Parker, the man who was changed from a human into a reploid. This has ignited a wildfire of controversy. Many have claimed that this has 'proven' that the human mind is nothing more than a machine. I say otherwise! I say that this is yet another example of the Lord at work!"
Behind his visor, Dan's eyebrow twitched.
"Dr. Light was a genius, perhaps the greatest to have lived. But to suggest that he could tamper in the God's domain is preposterous! It should be easy to see that the Lord aided Dr. Light in preserving Daniel's spirit."
"Really?"
All eyes went Dan. His mouth was drawn into a sneer, his hidden eyes flashing with hatred. With slow, deliberate, steps, he walked towards the podium, ignoring the attention he was garnering.
"Well, my brother, do you have something to add in this discussion?" The preacher maintained a friendly, open attitude, a smile on his face and a relaxed pose for his body.
"Have you… have any of you considered what he is going through?" Dan kept his identity masked, not wanting to risk exposure. "I have. Ever since that first report on him appeared on the evening news the other night, he's all I've thought about. I watched the world's reaction, how the ignorant masses rose up in angry lynch mobs, thirsting for that poor man's blood. He never asked for any of this bullshit to happen to him."
"These people are merely-"
"What? Confused? Irrational? They're all human. That will never change. Because of stupidity and primal fear, they kill an innocent man because he's different." Dan reached the podium, and stared into the preacher's eyes. Confusion and fear filled them; fear that Dan's little spiel would undo his entire speech. Dan snorted loudly and turned around, a defiant look on his face, his visor making him seem all the more imposing.
"Any God that would allow that kind of travesty to happen is not worthy of my praise!"
Leaving the stunned and silenced crowd behind, Dan walked into a darkened alleyway with a hurried step. He burned with a raging inferno. How dare them. How dare they say he should be grateful to that old bastard. His life had been a living hell because of him. And God. Why should he feel any sort of…
Dan stopped, in both his mind and his walk. Why was he feeling that way? He never had a conflict of faith before, and this did not challenge it. He was so confused. What should he be doing? What was his purpose in life now? Did he have some sort of higher purpose, or was his second chance merely a fluke?
Footsteps from behind him caught Dan's attention. He turned around. The figure was a male reploid of the humanoid type. He appeared to be a normal civilian class with the appropriate clothing, though he counted off his steps as if he were a soldier. However, what Dan noticed most of all was the aura of confidence that he exuded.
"I heard you back there," the reploid said, his voice carrying the same assurance as his walk.
"Yeah, and?" Dan replied. He kept his guard up. Something about this reploid did not sit right with him
"Well, I thought you would like to know that you're not alone."
"… go on."
"I know people, kindred spirits, who would be more than willing to accept you."
Dan thought on that for a moment. Something was ringing in his head, a hint of recognition. He could recall X's voice, telling him about-
"You mean Mavericks, don't you?" he asked, remembering what it was.
"To use a politically correct term, yes, I'm referring to Mavericks. But not all are infected by the infamous virus."
Dan stared at the other man. Could this be it? Were these Mavericks truly where he belonged?
There was only one way to find out.
"Take me there."
The man nodded, and grinned, wide and toothy. Without any further words, he started to walk on down the alley again, Dan following close. They walked in silence for several blocks, where they reached a parked car. The man took a silver electronic device the size of his palm out of his pocket and pressed one of the two buttons on it. The lights flashed, and the door locks disengaged.
Just before the two entered the car, the man paused and looked at Dan.
"By the way, my name's Brush."
They climbed in and drove off towards the city limits.
--------------
Brush filled time by talking to Dan. At first, it was mindless chatter, aimed at learning more about the red armored man. When Dan did not answer his questions, Brush quieted down and kept his attention on the road. In silence, Dan found himself dwelling on thoughts about X and Zero. He wondered how they would react to his decision. For that matter, he was also curious how the world would react. Would they treat him like any other Maverick? That was the most likely choice, but there was another. Would modern society reevaluate itself, the people wondering if they were doing the right thing? Hell, he could be the next Rosa Parks. The thought brought a grin to Dan's face.
His driver noticed the grin, and asked, "What's so funny?"
"Just a private thought."
When Dan did not elaborate, Brush began talking again. He told Dan about the place they were heading, a warehouse and office complex. Officially, and legally, it was used as storage for scrap metal that was being processed for any potential usage before heading to the scrapheap. Naturally, this provided the group an almost constant supply of useful materials that they could put to good use, and gave them some untraceable funds on the side. It was a well-maintained organization, one that rivaled anything the infamous mobsters of the Prohibition Era had.
Dan sat in silence as the vehicle passed through the front gate of the compound. Brush parked the vehicle, and he and Dan climbed out.
"I'll let you in to meet the rest of the gang," Brush said as he led Dan towards the warehouse. "Find the shift supervisor, and tell him that you've come to inquire about a purchase."
"Of what?"
"Just a purchase. He'll show you the way down."
They reached the warehouse side door. As Dan reached to open it, a question came to mind.
"Where are you going?"
"I have to let the guys in charge know about your arrival. Lots of red tape. You get what I'm saying."
Brush walked off to the office complex. Dan went inside the warehouse. Just as he had been told, there was a massive amount of scrap work being done. Dozens of reploids worked the facility, most of them wearing red vests and orange hardhats. However, above on an open frame walkway was one man, also a reploid, who had a clipboard in his hands, slowly walking around, making checks on some list.
Dan found the stairs leading towards whom he assumed was the shift supervisor. Quickly ascending it, he approached the man in a nonchalant manner. The reploid looked up at Dan with a somewhat surly manner.
"Can I help you?" he asked his voice gruff.
"I hope so. I'm here to inquire about a purchase."
At once, the man's eyes lit up. He nodded.
"Sure thing. Follow me to the back."
The two men went back onto the ground level and walked into a break room. The space was well equipped. A few couches were set against the wall, a glass table set in the center of the room, and a counter near the entrance with a mini-refrigerator set atop it. Missing was the usual coffee brewer, but Dan guessed that reploids did not need a caffeine stimulant.
The shift supervisor walked over to the mini-refrigerator and opened it up. Hidden inside, behind the condenser, was a small pressure switch. If someone casually brushed the switch, nothing would happen. Only when that specific section was pushed would the switch activate. The shift supervisor pushed the switch. The sound of a hydraulic seal being released was heard. A section the wall slid down, and revealed a rusted passage leading into the ground.
"When you get down there, make sure to check in with Seph. He'll assign you a room."
The foreman gave Dan a quick nod before heading back to his work. As soon as the door shut, Dan took a deep breath and walked into the passageway. Several seconds later, the wall closed behind him.
His way illuminated only by blinking halogen lights, the red armored man followed the corridor to an elevator. The panel inside only had a single other floor to travel to. Pressing the button, the doors closed and he descended. Even though Brush had said that the operation made a good deal of money, the elevator creaked several times, making Dan wonder if they even cared about their people.
With the chiming of a bell, the elevator stopped. Its doors opened to reveal a concrete bunker that had been extensively renovated into underground living quarters. In the main room was a few reploids, idly chatting the time away. When Dan took his first steps in, all talk ceased as their attention focused on him. Dan took a deep breath, and continued walking onward. He still was not comfortable with being the center of attention.
Most of the other corridors were made out of steel, and lit by florescent lights. Dan asked around for the reploid the shift supervisor had told him about, but all gave him a different answer. Becoming flustered to the point of just finding a room of his own, the red armored man headed towards the mess hall, the one place he had not look yet. As it was the middle of the night, not many reploids were in the room, most of them sitting at a table and talking. However, standing off to the side and staring into space was one reploid, one patterned after a bison, looking as if he had some importance.
"Are you Seph?" Dan asked, walking over. The bison reploid turned its massive heads towards Dan.
"That I am. You must be a newcomer, huh?"
"Yeah," Dan replied, coming to a halt several steps away.
"And I guess that idiot of a foreman told you to come to me for a room?" Seph snorted and shook his head. "I've told him a thousand times, 'Don't you dare stick those newbies to me.' But does he listen? No. He just keeps on send them to me, like I had any authority here."
Dan stayed silent and let the reploid rant. With a curled lip, Seph glared at the red armored man.
"Go and find your own room. I can tell by your looks that you're just another punk-ass who thinks he's a hot-shot, and this is his way of rebel-"
Seph found himself cut-off by Dan roughly grabbing him by the mane and shoving him against the wall. A shocked look crossed the bison reploid's face. It took considerable strength, more than any normal humanoid reploid usually had, to do that to him. His expression quickly changed to fear as Dan pointed the barrel of his buster in Seph's face.
"You listen to me: I am here only because I choose to be and I can just as easily choose to leave, got it?"
Seph quickly nodded his head. Dan kept him pinned for several more seconds before finally letting go and walking off. Regaining his composure quickly, Seph took a deep breath and stared after Dan.
"So, what name can we call you by?"
Dan paused in his steps. He could not give them his real name; something in his gut told him that was a bad idea. However, he could not just ignore them. They needed something that would fit, yet not give Dan's identity away.
"You can call me… Shades."
It sounded pleasant to Dan's ears. Seph slowly nodded.
"Well then, Shades, I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."
Dan did not reply. He walked out of the room. Those that had been talking never once flinched at the conversation between Dan and Seph.
Several minutes later, Dan found a room that was unoccupied, and moved in. He entered his own customized key-code to the door, ensuring that no one could bother him. The room was of Spartan furnishings - a cot, footlocker, and nothing else. However, as if in stark contrast to that, the room was large, twenty feet by twenty feet with a ceiling of what appeared to be the same length.
Flopping down on his bed, Dan started wondering about what he was capable of now. He knew about his buster's unparalleled capabilities, but nothing else. In response to his idle thought, his computer gave a complete readout of his body. His armor plating was of interest to Dan. Learning that his buster still had not unleashed its full fury was frightening. However, his computer said that the charge time for his most powerful shot was a full minute, in addition to requiring a third of his operations energy.
What intrigued Dan the most was his extended air dash thrusters. Working up his courage, he walked to the center of the room and jumped. He was so surprised to find that he could jump his own height that he forgot about the thrusters. Upon landing, he focused his mind and tried again. This time, upon reaching his jump's crest, he willed that his thrusters would engage. With the roar of rockets firing, Dan launched an additional six feet in the air, so high that he could touch the ceiling.
Slowly, creeping up as a lion would its prey, a smile crossed Dan's face. He started laughing. This was so much fun to do. Throwing all caution aside, he began dashing all around his room, trying every form of movement combination that he could think up. Even banging into the walls several times did not deter him. It was only after receiving a concussion from a misjudged landing did Dan finally stop. With a grin on his face, Dan flopped on to his cot and fell asleep.
--------------
Nearly a week had passed since Dan arrived at the Maverick hideout. He spent most of his time wandering around the facility, getting to know its layout. He never felt much of a lure to socialize with the others that were there. None of them made an attempt, either, all content to let the man who put Seph in a tight spot alone.
Feeling the need to stretch his legs, Dan left his room, and started walking around the bunker. The halls were empty. The pounding of music from the cafeteria gave the reason why, however. The music… something about it caught Dan's attention. It was not anything in particular that he recalled, yet, it struck a familiar tone with him. It drew him to it like the rats to the pied piper.
When Dan reached the cafeteria, he did not go in and join the partying. Rather, he stood just outside the door, hiding in the shadows. From his position, he could see everything that happened. At first glance, it seemed as a normal party. However, that all changed when he saw the copious amounts of alcohol passed around. It was not something as simple as wine coolers either. It was the hard stuff, all around fifty proof. The reploids hollered as they passed the liquor around, spraying it everywhere without a care. The liquid painted the walls. Clothing was thoroughly drenched. Virtually none was drunk.
The band changed songs. It was heavy on the electric guitar, bass, and drums. It was not something that he recognized, though he knew the genre – heavy metal. There were no words to the song, just loud, senseless noise that assaulted his ears. Several female reploids climbed onto the tables, and stripped off their clothes. All the men started to hoot and whistle even louder.
Dan scowled and walked away.
"Times change," he mumbled. "Society's scum does not."
If that's true, then, why are you with them?
Dan did not have an answer. He opted to stay silent, and continued walking.
After several minutes, the sounds of a pleasant conversation caught his attention. The door to someone's room ahead was left ajar. Curious, Dan looked inside. Seated around a table were three humanoid-class reploids, each, however, wearing some kind of battle armor. The one opposite the door noticed Dan standing outside.
"Hey there. Want to join us?"
After a moment's hesitation, Dan walked inside. The three men greeted him with warm smiles and an open invitation to a spare chair, which Dan eagerly occupied.
"You're that Shades guy, right? The one who put Seph up against a wall?" the one who invited Dan in asked.
"Yeah, that's me," he nonchalantly replied. "And you three are?"
"Just three idiots who don't know when to throw in the towel," the reploid on the left said with a wry grin. His friends laughed.
"Seriously, though," the same one continued. "We're ex-Repliforce."
Dan raised an eyebrow from behind his visor. From what X had told him last nearly two weeks ago, the Repliforce had been duped into going Maverick by Sigma, the surviving members granted full pardon, though kept under heavy surveillance.
"I'm Bahl," the one who invited him in said. "This is Deupree and Casali," he continued, motioning to his respective left and right.
"Then, how'd you wind up here?" The three reploids' faces turned dour.
"We couldn't fit in. Society, that is. The rest of the guys were able to get in with the air division."
Casali, who had remained quiet, spoke up.
"Hey, who was that guy in charge of them? That Pegasus type reploid?"
"Skiver," Bahl answered.
"Right, right."
"So…" Dan said, after a moment's pause. "Why aren't you three down at the party?" Bahl crossed his arms.
"Unlike the rest of these jackasses, we maintain a little something call morals and ethics. They all think they're making some sort of grand statement by rebelling." He snorted. "If you ask me, they're all just like a bunch of kids who deliberately do the stuff that pisses mom and dad off."
"Got that right."
"Uh-huh."
The night continued on, Dan chatting with his newfound acquaintances into the early hours of the morning.
--------------
Life went on inside the Maverick Hunter Headquarters. X returned to his job, quietly accepting the fact that Dan was gone. However, inside, he was hurting. He wanted to have a real brother relationship with Dan. Now, unless Dan returned, that would never happen. Zero did not have any trouble with Dan leaving. He believed that it was for the best. Cain, however, had to deal with an extra headache. Cristoph had called MHHQ, informing Cain that a group of GDC historical researchers wished to interview Dan. The councilman blew his lid when Cain told him he was gone.
Each one accepted Dan's choice, however. Most of the others in the Hunter organization did not notice Dan's disappearance. Those that did shrugged it off, and went on with their day.
Cain walked down the halls of MHHQ, a grim look on his face and a datapad held tightly in his hand. A moment ago, he called X and Zero to a meeting within the conference room, for reasons that he would not announce over the intercom. The information he had been given was of a very sensitive matter.
The aged man reached the conference room and walked inside, finding X and Zero already seated and awaiting him. X turned to ask Cain why he had called them here, and then saw Cain's expression. Cain walked over to his position at the head of the conference table and sat down. Before saying a word, he activated the room's security measures. Zero quickly glanced at X. With the security measures in place, the room became virtually spy-proof.
"What's wrong?" X finally asked. Cain did not answer. Instead, he up-linked his datapad to the room's computer system. After a moment's delay, a hologram appeared in the center of the room, displaying a picture of a warehouse.
"This is a photograph of a scrap processing center near the city limits," Cain explained, his voice slow and steady. "It has been under investigation by the police for several months. Apparently, there were rumors of it being an illegal arms dealership. That is not the case."
Cain pressed a button on his datapad. The image changed into a wireframe model of the facility. However, it also displayed a large underground complex.
"Instead, it is a hideout for Mavericks."
"Sigma?" X tensely asked.
"Thankfully, no, and not of any Maverick threat near his scale. This appears to be nothing more than a large group of malcontents."
Zero leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Then why are we being shown this? This falls under MSWAT jurisdiction."
"Normally, it would. However, one photo changes the whole thing."
Slowly, Cain pressed the button on his datapad again. When the new image was displayed, X's eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. The artificial blood in his veins froze. His skin became as ash, while the breath in his throat caught. He wanted it to Sigma. He wanted it to be the X-Hunters. He wanted it to be anything but this.
A picture of Dan, still in his armor, shone brightly in the hologram.
"No…" X croaked out. "This can't be right. Dan's not a Maverick."
"X, this isn't the only picture of him," Cain softy replied.
"I don't care how many fucking pictures there are! Dan is not a Maverick! He's confused, that's all!" The Blue Bomber slammed his fist on the table, the image distorting for a brief moment. Cain closed his eyes. He hated this part of his job.
"X, as the commander of the Maverick Hunters, this is a potential threat that I cannot ignore. I have a responsibility to society to make sure that what needs to be done is done. But I agree with you one-hundred percent. Dan is more than likely just confused. However, if he is not…" He let the words hang, his implication clear.
"I'm ordering the 17th and 0th units to attack this Maverick facility. If Dan truly has gone Maverick, your units stand the best chance of taking him down."
In one of the few moments of his life, X stared at Cain with raw hatred and contempt. Darkness hid his eyes as flame ignited in them.
"Yes, sir."
Before Zero or Cain could say anything, X stormed out of the room. He needed to be alone.
Several minutes later, X was standing atop the roof of the building, looking out over all of New Tokyo. The sun was in its descending arc, drawing long shadows across the earth. A chill wind nipped at the people's noses, a definite sign that autumn was on its way. To the west, the mighty Pacific Ocean glittered in the dying daylight. The aftermath of World War III had reshaped a portion of the western North American coastline, rendering the American states of Washington and Oregon in half, while biting away a chunk of California and the Canadian province of British Columbia.
It was such a peaceful sight. In the past, X could always count on it to sooth him. Now, it did nothing.
The door leading to the roof opened, and someone came walking out towards X. The Blue Bomber did not bother to look; he could tell that it was Zero. The Crimson Hunter came to a halt next to his friend. For several minutes, they stood in silence, and shared in the view.
"How can Cain do this, Zero? He knows Dan. He knows that he's not a threat."
"He's just doing his job, X. Why else do you think he keeps a cabinet stocked with liquor close by?"
X did not respond.
"After you left, Cain told me that we're moving out in few hours, after it gets dark. We should brief our units before then."
"I can't do this, Zero. I can't kill my own brother."
"I'm not expecting you to, and neither is Cain. God willing, this will all be over before midnight, with Dan still alive."
The pair stayed silent for a moment, before going back inside. There was work to be done.
--------------
"So, this is the armory you guys maintain, huh?" Dan pointlessly asked as his new friends showed off the arms cache.
"Yeah. You'd be surprised to find out what people throw away that can be repaired."
The armory was sealed by a reasonably thick door of met alloy, secured by a DNA scanner, modified for reploids. An impressive amount of weapons lay inside, mostly energy based automatic rifles. However, there was a small supply of Maverick Hunter quality X-busters and beam sabers.
"Pick something."
Dan gave Casali a shocked look, masked by his visor.
"Seriously?"
"Absolutely. You're an all right guy, Shades, with more brains and common sense than most others here have. You won't go off and do something stupid."
Dan wondered if Casali would say the same thing if he knew the truth.
"Go ahead," Bahl said. "Take anything you want."
Dan began looking around the armory. He had no need of any of the weapons, however. His buster (which his computer labeled as Prototype Buster) dwarfed the X-Busters in every aspect. He also had no idea how to properly use any of the rifles or beam sabers. To the side of the room, though, was a sealed crate.
"Hey, what's in that?"
Deupree looked at the crate.
"You know, I completely forgot we had that."
"What is it?"
"A little something left over from our days in the Repliforce."
Motioning to Bahl for assistance, Deupree dragged the crate into the middle of the room. Dan looked on with intrigue. Obviously, whatever was inside was extremely heavy. After taking a moment to recover his strength, Deupree opened the electromagnetic seal on the crate. With a loud clunk, the lock disengaged, and Deupree opened the lid.
"You're welcome to take a look, though I doubt you'll be able to pick it up. It was designed for the heavy assault divisions."
Dan was even more curious now. Walking up, he looked inside the crate.
Inside, still a dull primer gray from the factory, was a large shield with a plasteel covering at roughly eye level.
Dan was in awe. At once, he could feel a connection with the shield. Slowly, as if he were picking up a newborn, he grabbed hold of the shield, and pulled it out. His three companions looked on with shock.
"Holy shit. Just how strong are you?" Bahl asked.
The red armored man did not reply, still running his eyes over the shield. He flipped it around to look at the inside. There was a handle on the right side of the shield, obviously designed to be held with the left arm. Horizontal from the handle was a rectangular box, its purpose not readily apparent. Dan slipped his left hand into the handle. Immediately, the rectangular box drew itself towards his arm, securing his hold with magnets. He ran his free hand over the interior. Half way down, small print interrupted the glass-smooth interior. Looking closely, he read the lettering.
Made with pride in the U.S.A.
"What's this made out of?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"TTF, titaniumteflo alloy, strongest substance known to man."
"I want it."
"Er, sure, Shades," Bahl uneasily responded. Dan looked at him with a cocked head.
"Is that a problem?"
"No, no. We're men of our word," Casali declared before anyone could contradict him. "It's yours."
Dan grinned broadly, hefting the shield several times to test its weight. It was the breadth of his torso and arms, and ran a length from the top of his helmet to just below his groin area. There was no way any hand-held weapon could harm him.
He just needed to get it painted.
--------------
The stretch of highway outside of the Maverick complex was silent in the night air. The machinery was shut down, the workers below in the bunker. Only a night watch equipped with nothing more than flashlights remained above ground. The stillness and serenity was shattered by a dozen warping Maverick Hunters crashing into the ground and reforming. It was only a small fraction of the combined might of the 17th and 0th units, deemed more than enough for this mission. However, the remaining forces were kept on full alert.
X and Zero were among the first to materialize. Neither one had their weapons ready. For a moment, they stood in silence, observing the factory. Then, they armed themselves and gave the order to move in.
--------------
Dan was in his room, a can of red paint matched to his body sitting beside him. Held in his left hand was his shield, the front facing him. In his right was a spray head, a hose snaking from it to the paint can. A fine mist shot from the nozzle, giving his shield a final coat. Setting the spray head down, Dan peeled off the masking tape the covered an inch of the shield's edge and the plasteel view port. He wanted to take the time not only to admire his work but also to get used to it.
Sirens and red lights blared to life throughout the bunker compound. Dan rocketed onto his feet, still holding onto the edge of his shield. He was acquainted well enough with the security protocols to know what they meant; someone had broken into the facility.
Without any delay, Dan flipped his shield around and threw it onto his back. The magnetic clamp secured its position as he ran out the door. All around, he could see and hear the reploids in the bunker trying to arm themselves and organize a resistance. He grabbed one such reploid as he passed by and asked, "Who's attacking?"
"The Maverick Hunters!"
A shocked look breaks out over Dan's face, the reploid breaking free. He did not know what to do. His new companions would be expecting him to fight back. Yet, his time among the Hunters was foremost on his mind. In a stupor, he walked into the hallway. At the same time, Seph ran down the hall, and nearly into Dan.
"Shades!" the massive bison reploid called out. "Thank God you're here! With your help, we can force these bastards out!"
Dan did not reply. His eyes bore a distant stare, one that Seph could not see.
"What the hell are you doing, standing around? The Hunters are in the west wing! Get your red ass over there and fight back!"
"What about you?" Dan managed to ask.
"I'm going to get rifle. Now get moving!"
Seph lumbered past Dan. The red armored man watched after the massive reploid until he vanished around the corner. Dan still did not know what to do, though he knew he had to do something. Help the Hunters? Help the Mavericks? He had to side with one. There was one thing that he had to do, however, no matter what: he had to find the Hunters. With purpose at last, Dan shifted his right arm into buster mode and took off towards the west wing, plowing through the thinning crowds.
It only took him two minutes to reach the wing. There were several other reploids around, all Mavericks, armed and fighting back, though they seemed to be hiding more than fighting. Still not sure of what to do, Dan kept his buster ready, though he did not charge it. He felt his mind slipping into a familiar state. His movements slowed as his mind opened and became more aware of his surroundings, analyzing them to help in fighting.
The hall was large enough for him to lay prone. The steel reinforced concrete might protect him from the plasma fire; it depended upon the plasma's power and concentration. The air the faint smell of ionization, as there was before a storm. He analyzed his potential allies, the Mavericks. There was no definite leader, resulting in poor organization. Their lack of training, and inferior arms, almost guaranteed a victory for the Hunters.
The Hunters. Dan still had to see them. Slowly, in a half crouch, he crept towards the hallway junction. A handful of scorch marks lined the wall. Lying face down in the middle of the T-junction was a female Maverick, a hole where her right breast used to be, a growing pool of blood beneath her. Having been dead himself, the body did not bother Dan.
He reached the corner and dropped to a full crouch. Slowly, he stuck his head around the corner. The hall was twenty-five feet long, and at the other end stood a handful of Hunters. Dan froze in place. X and Zero were standing on the other side. The noise around him became distant and muffled. Time seemed to slow. He became unable to wrench his gaze from the two Hunters.
Again, the ugly question reared its head. Side with the Hunters? Side with the Mavericks?
It was only a matter of time before Dan was recognized. Zero's gaze met his, and it fell. The two stared at each other. After several moments, X followed his partner. Dan lowered his head. He could not stand up to X, not now.
What should I do, damn it? What should I do?
All of a sudden, the answer came to him, as if he were shot with a silver bullet. His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened. He knew what to do.
Slowly, surely, Dan looked towards X and Zero, and raised his buster.