Category: Cyborg 009
Rating: K+
Genre: Drama
Summary: Jet undergoes an experience which teaches him that, for his teammates, he is capable of a lot more destruction than his creators ever could know.
Wounds
Pending the successful siege on the Neo Nazi base of operations in the arctic the cyborg team left the estate of Dr. Kozumi. It was in the best interest of everyone that they flee Japan as their location had obviously been discovered by Black Ghost. That morning alone Zero-Zero-Five had found and destroyed four mechanical insects that served as spies for the enemy so it was clear that it was time to go.
Dr. Kozumi was just as sad to see his guests leave as they were sad to depart. The island had provided a safe haven for so long and Kozumi was an excellent host who enjoyed the company. But after his abduction by Zero-Zero-Thirteen nobody was willing to chance their luck any farther. Besides, Black Ghost couldn't be avoided forever. This was the beginning of what would be the end.
Zero-Zero-Four had once intercepted an enemy SOS to Antarctica so there was likely some sort of syndicate activity somewhere on the continent. For the sake of the party's sanity, however, now was the time to lay low and wait for things to settle and wounds to heal. They fled to Cape Town, Africa, where the new region would suffice as the temporary home to the nine cyborgs and the scientist.
Frankly, for most of the rogues, the switch from one continent to another was a complete culture shock. If anything the cyborgs learned it was the appreciation for Zero-Zero-Eight's ability to adapt to life in Japan so easily after having been brought up completely differently. Now the other cyborgs would have to follow his example.
Because now was a time of rest most of the team had taken it upon themselves to enjoy themselves a little. The markets of Cape Town were plentiful and full of exotic things that most of them had never seen before, and the savannas held animals that used to only exist in books. Needless to say a lot of sight seeing was done by those who needed the space.
The Dolphin did need to be examined and supplied, though the task of getting the ship back together were menial at best. For those less social cyborgs this left little else to do but perform monthly performance checks on the ship every day. It was busy work, though, so nobody on board was complaining.
Today it was the typical group lurking about on the Dolphin. Zero-Zero-Two, favoring his own room to the rest of the world, had once again declined any invitations to join the others. Meanwhile, Zero-Zero-Seven had managed to drag Zero-Zero-Four into his practice of Shakespeare's work in the commons. Amusing to watch, as Jet would eventually find out.
"Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep in the affliction of these terrible dreams that shake us nightly: better be with the dead, whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie in restless ecstasy..."
"I didn't understand a damn thing you just said."
"It's MacBeth. You're not supposed to be able to understand it. Nobody understands Shakespeare."
"But I have no idea where this plot is going. It's hard enough starting way in Act Two, but who's Duncan and why is he dead? And did people actually used to talk like this?"
"Just... Read the verse."
With a 'humph' of annoyance Zero-Zero-Four stared down at the book and began reading: "Come on; gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; be bright and jovul-"
"Jovial."
"Jovial among your guests tonight." After having been corrected for the umpteenth time that night Albert decided he had had enough. "I don't appreciate being stuck with the part of Lady MacBeth."
"There is no other part in this scene! Besides, I need to brush up in this area. My acting skills have seriously deteriorated since my last performance." Zero-Zero-Seven flipped a few pages ahead in the book and tapped a new verse lightly. "We'll start from here this time."
"You know, there is something more important I could be doing," Albert replied.
"Oh, is there really?" Zero-Zero-Four seriously did not like the fact that Great Britain had pinned him into this task. Truth of the matter was that there wasn't anything left to be done on the ship or anywhere else, so his time was pretty free...
"Fine. I'll read your lines," he rested his head on his hand and pulled the book closer, "However, if the story gets to be that you start getting fresh with my character, I'm out of here."
Zero-Zero-Seven was clearly delighted at the answer. "Very well, my friend. Let's begin at the banquet scene, shall we?"
Zero-Zero-Two was in the hull playing around with the projection maps on the main monitor. There was no real purpose for this other than to keep himself amused while alone, but just looking at the different perspectives of each projection as he went along was somewhat interesting. And, despite knowing that the thought was grossly philosophical and out of character, Jet liked the idea that there was still a normal world out there waiting for him when things would settle down.
At that time, however, fate decided to remind Jet that there would be no settling down any time soon. He was still a cyborg, and like all the Zero-Zero cyborgs he had a communication transmitter installed directly inside his ear. Inconvenient if the others didn't know how to work it.
"HEY, you guys on board! Can you HEAR ME?" The words blasted through the American's head like a speakerphone and left a ringing sound loud enough to shatter one's eardrum.
In his surprise Jet had managed to fall off his chair and onto the floor, clutching his head mercifully in his hands. "For God's sake," he yelled into the otherwise empty room, "turn down your volume!" The feedback echo was beginning to reach head splitting status, and had somebody taught Jet how to turn the link off he probably would have done so as opposed to writhing in pain.
"What? I don't know - ... Oh, I see. Is this better, boys?"
"Ow... Ow..." Seriously contemplating banging his head on the floor to shake the pain, Zero-Zero-Two forced out a reply, "What's the big idea?"
"I'm very sorry," the disembodied voice apologized, "It's Zero-Zero-Six. I'm trying to get everyone in contact. Albert? Great Britain? Can you both hear me?" Over the voice link the other two cyborgs answered.
It was obvious that Great Britain was just as angry as Jet. "Please, Zero-Zero-Six, next time give us some more warning before trying to blast open our skulls?"
"I think my ears are bleeding," Albert groaned mordantly. In the command center Zero-Zero-Two sat up against a podium and took a deep breath to recover and listened for the rest of the conversation.
"Well, Dr. Gilmore says that we've run into a bit of trouble. Those of us outside this ship have already disassembled into two teams, but we need a third focused on stealth, the Doctor says. It looks like an infiltration mission."
This got an immediate rise out of Jet. "No way. No missions or infiltrations or anything like that! We're supposed to be settling down!"
The more collected Zero-Zero-Four came back on the line. "What, exactly, is going on that needs all of us?"
"Oh, I haven't learned all of the details, but from what I have put together I'd say there may be something on this continent that is linked to the Zero-Zero experiments."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, I don't know!" The Chinese man was obviously just as lost in the dark as they were, and the nervousness was clear in his voice. "All the Doctor says is "Get the others out here quickly," and when I asked Zero-Zero-Nine all he said was 'Hurry and contact the others'. Honestly, it's like speaking to walls!"
"Where are all of you?
"I can tell you. Oh, please do try to hurry. Maybe with you lot around we'll finally be getting some answers."
"All right. This is odd." Zero-Zero-Four leaned up against a dead shrub of a tree and crossed his arms firmly. He would have been better off speaking to himself: the only other person for ten miles around was Zero-Zero-Seven, whom had assumed the form of a dog and was examining the area. Jet had flown off to scout for the others who weren't where they said they would be.
"This is the right place... Zero-Zero-Six's description of the area even matches," the shape shifter contemplated, and Heinrich would have been disturbed by a talking dog if he wasn't so used to the abnormal as it was. "But I can't even pick up a scent of any of the mates. It's just loony!"
"I don't understand. How did Zero-Zero-Six describe this place so well if he wasn't even here? I don't see any signs of a struggle, so it's unlikely they were abducted..."
"Are you supposing it's a trap?"
"Could very well be," the man said with a humorless grin, looking around the heated land that was devoid of almost all life, "If so then it's some sloppy work on their part. The story was a weak red herring as was, and the few details we were given should be a sign that something's amiss."
"But that was our private chef's voice over the radio, was it not? Even if they had been captured I doubt that one of our own would willingly lead us into an ambush."
"Not unless he was being forced to at the threat of death. Not his own, probably, but maybe to save one of the others? None of this is making any sense."
"Well, here comes our flying friend," Zero-Zero-Seven shook wildly, in the process assuming his original form, "Perhaps he shall be able to shed some light on this dark situation?"
"Maybe," the Berlin man answered cynically as Zero-Zero-Two landed and hit the ground running. Despite the jog it looked as though he was in no hurry to meet with the other two with any news. "No luck?"
"Nothin'. Not anything even remotely suspicious. You think it's possible that Zero-Zero-Six gave us the wrong coordinates from the start?"
"That can't be it," Great Britain said with a shake of his head, "He said that they were near a tree with three boulders." Pointing to the tree that Albert had been leaning on, sure enough there were three huge stones settled firmly around it.
"Then I'm drawing blanks," the American snapped with a vicious frustration that was understandable. Albert knew that kids like Jet didn't like being left in the dark, so his temper flare was excused.
"Perhaps the point of getting us our here wasn't so much a trap as it was a decoy? The Dolphin-"
"Stop calling it that."
"The Dolphin," he continued, smirking at Jet's aggravated glare, "was left completely unattended when we headed out. Maybe this was a ploy to get us out of the way?"
"But why? Who? Would Black Ghost really work so hard to try to just get back one ship? It doesn't seem to be his forte, does-"
"Quiet, mates!" The conversation was instantly dropped at the shape shifter's demand. "Am I the only one that heard that?"
"Heard what?"
Instead of answering Zero-Zero-Seven alternated his form into that of a rather goofy-looking rabbit with oversized ears. They tilted from side to side, listening for any abnormal sound about the quiet plain. "Off to the East, I'm thinkin'."
Zero-Zero's Two and Four looked at each other briefly and nodded before cautiously moving forward. Jet's weapon withdrawn and Albert's ever present machine gun hand both ready to fire, they began to weed their way through the tall straw-grass.
"Holler if you see anything."
"Holler? Hell, if I see something I'm gonna shoot it."
"This is serious, Zero-Zero-Two. If there is somebody else out here then we might be able to get some answers."
"If somebody else is hiding out there they might be a sniper out to get us."
"All I'm saying is maybe you should be a little less trigger happy for a while." While he was sure he had seen the suggestion go into one of Jet's ears and come out the other Heinrich split away from the other with the hope he wouldn't fire to kill. American teenagers - pfft.
However, this was one of the few cases where Jet's instincts proved to be in the right. Unfortunately for Albert it was a little late to take any show of blood lust to heart. In the time it took him to blink and yell out in surprise an electric current channeled through his body, stunning his biological parts and frying his mechanical components to the point where they began to shut down. He had no control of his limbs and fell flat on the ground, immobile as his basic senses began to falter. His sight and hearing left quickly, leaving him trapped in a dark world of nothingness until his brain could no longer support even awareness.
A cold chamber of prisoner cells was where the three cyborgs resided after what should have been an anticipated ambush. Though they were separated by either bars or other means of restriction they were free to communicate, but that only went so far when one of them was down.
"When he wakes up," the former gang leader growled at the unconscious form of Zero-Zero-Four, "I am going to give him the biggest 'I told you so' and a few punches to back it up."
"Mate's been out for a long while, hasn't he? Nearly a day longer than us, I think." Holding back Zero-Zero-Seven was a dome of energy, milky white in color and powerful enough to deliver a stunning shock when penetrated. No form of shape shifting would get him through. "I wonder why that is? Oh, do you think he's... all right?"
"He's fine. Probably still out just because of the way he's built. You know, more cybernetic than the rest of us. The shock completely scattered my mechanics, so it's worse for him."
"Right, right. I see where yer' coming from. Now, about the little mess we've fallen into... Looks to me like this is where they'd keep all the captured," Zero-Zero-Seven rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "And since the rest of the gang isn't around I would assume that we've been thoroughly duped."
"It's so easy to mimic voices over intercom systems now. This is what we get for letting down our guard." Angry at the thought of being on the faltering side of the battle, Jet paced about the cube-shaped cell restlessly. The bars were a combination of different alloys, but that didn't matter much because he had no way to get through. They had been disarmed entirely from every weapon they possessed, including his jet propellant being drained. They literally had nothing other than immediate arsenal - Zero-Zero-Seven's useless shape shifting powers and the comatose Zero-Zero-Four's bladed hand. "When is that bastard going to wake up?"
"Hey! Why don't we use our intercom systems to-"
"They've been disabled," he answered abruptly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Great Britain's look of dying hope. "I already tried to get a hold of the others. We have no access to the network."
"Well, damn. I'd say somebody knows us Zero-Zero cyborgs very well to get the beat down on three of us at a time."
"Hey, that's right. Whoever is doing this must really have something to do with the Cyborg Project to know how to counter us. Tapping into our frequency must be hard enough to do as is, much less capturing and shutting us down."
"But I was led to believe that all of the scientists other than Dr. Gilmore were wiped out. Do you think that one of them remains and is loyal to our antagonist?"
"Could be anything. And it could be a long time before we start getting any answers, so all there is left to do is just wait." Glancing subtly over at Zero-Zero-Four again, Jet couldn't help but feel an uneasy twist in his stomach. They were trapped with no means of help or a way to get any information. It was a helpless feeling that he didn't care to experience one bit. They would need a plan, or, at the very least, somebody to assure them that things would work out. Zero-Zero-Four still didn't move at all, and the thought of him possibly being dead two feet away from them didn't help much. "Just wake up already, Heinrich."
When the hellish sound of old metal scratching against old metal pulled the cyborgs out from a restless sleep just a few hours later both of the operable beings were anxious to see what the movement was. Other than themselves there had been no presence around the holding cells since they'd arrived so both were curious to see what was going on.
Two human guards, both armed to the teeth, entered. Following them were three large robots that were obviously prepared for combat, should the need arise. They said nothing and took their places about the room of cells, arms loaded and ready.
"What's going on?" Jet demanded furiously, angry at the fact that he was being so blatantly ignored. "Just tell us what you're doing, damn it!"
No one answered. The five new guards remained completely still and silent.
Great Britain thought perhaps he's give it a try. "Oh, come on! Who do you knuckle heads work for?"
Nothing.
"Son of a bitch," the former growled, throwing his arms into the air and turning around, facing the only solid wall of his cell. In doing so he did manage to notice that Zero-Zero-Four was still in the same condition as before, and this made things seem worse.
When a trio of men - all fitting the stereotypical attire for doctors - came into the room just as blank faced as their proceeding officers Jet figured the best way to get answers was to let them do the talking. They walked across the room, passing both his and Albert's cells to examine Great Britain.
"This is the shape shifter I spoke to you of," one of them said to the others, "When he assumes the form of animate objects there are no distinguishing features that can help one determine his identity, though the same does not always apply to his inanimate forms: he occasionally maintains human-like facial features when becoming something non-human. From the data we received, however, this should be easily corrected with extensive training."
They moved towards Jet, who probably would have said something if he wasn't so freaked out by the trio. "This is the only one that can fly: Zero-Zero-Two. His Acceleration was installed in early stages of the development of the system, so it's very basic and mediocre. Also, the jet implements installed in his legs have proven to be a bit dated. His personality fits well to his fighting style, though, so only minor work will have to be performed on his mind."
"What did you just say?" Again, he was ignored.
"This one over here is Zero-Zero-Four. His designing creator named him the 'God of Death' from his destructive capabilities. To be frank he is a walking Swiss Army knife when fully equipped. He has combat abilities that suit close and distant combat, but we've observed a major flaw. He is far too sentimental and accepting of his opponents' pain. Out of all of them I think he will need the most work."
Jet and Great Britain looked at each other questioningly.
"Yes, I agree," another said, "We should begin soon, then. They are much easier to handle when sedated, and from the looks of him I'd say his life support will only last so much longer without proper adjustments. He is one of the older models so nutrition is needed in substantial amounts for cyborgs. The procedure is ready to take place, we just need to gather the rest of the team and prepare some. Just have him brought up to the second Bay when you're ready."
"I will have him moved immediately. And you brought up an interesting point before: I'm worried for Zero-Zero-Two's life support system as well. Being a dated model he must be taken care of, especially before such a delicate procedure. Would food do the two well?"
"Yes, I think it would. Just have your men be cautious when dealing with them. We've seen how dangerous these cyborgs can be. We can't let them escape."
"Very well, very well." The three of them left, followed by the two human foot soldiers. The robots stayed behind, giving a cold shadowy feel to the room with their lifelessness.
"Hey, Zero-Zero-Two. Do you have any idea what they were talking about? They kept saying things like 'correcting our flaws' and such. What do you think they meant?"
"I'm not sure. They seemed to think our personalities are the problem, but what is it they want to do? I guess all we really know is that something is going to be happening soon." Following the speakers own eyes Great Britain looked at Albert, motionless even yet.
Neither of them had noticed the guard come back to peek his head into the door. "Open this cell and take the hostage to Med-Bay Two. If he wakes up use the nueroshock on him. If all else fails don't hesitate to kill," he commanded the robots, and following his orders the three black monstrosities took action. The lumbering black forms performed as instructed: one heaved Zero-Zero-Four over its shoulder carelessly, as if it were handling a bag of rags and left with the other two robots in tow.
"I'm not liking the way this story's going," Zero-Zero-Seven said slowly, worriedly. In response Jet just numbly nodded.
"Food's up, cyborgs," muttered an angry guard who had been reduced to becoming a servant for prisoners. Delivering food was not what he had read in the job description, thank you very much.
What he hadn't expected was to see one of the hostages down on the floor, twitching sporadically and convulsing while the other yelled at him to get up.
"Zero-Zero-Seven, what's going on? Get a hold of yourself!" Jet shouted through the barred walls to his companion, whom had just recently and mysteriously collapsed. "Zero-Zero-Seven!"
The guard, caught up in the moment (and knowing that if anything happened to the cyborgs on his watch he'd be dead faster than he could explain) hit the button to release the barrier around the downed inmate. The shield glittered away, exposing the shape shifter to the outside world.
That's when the realization hit the guard. He'd been tricked, and he was screwed.
Zero-Zero-Seven extended his arms, and from them octopus-like legs surrounded and held the guard in place. "I'd think you'd do well to let my friend go, along with Zero-Zero-Four as well. I came to this party with them, so it'd be rude to just leave 'em, you know?"
"The... The big switch on the wall by the door," the newly captured man answered. "That'll unlock the other cells."
Jet, once freed from his small prison, grabbed the guard by the collar and pulled him closer. "Where's Zero-Zero-Four?"
"Please, I don't-"
"I know you're not about to lie to me. That wouldn't be good for you."
"T-they took him up to Med-Bay Two. It's on the third level, East wing. That's all I know!"
"I'm sure. Strangle him, Zero-Zero-Seven. He might trigger an alarm."
"No, wait!" Both cyborgs grinned at the usefulness of idle intimidation. "I can tell you more. Just don't kill me, please, I beg you!"
"Pathetic. Tell us everything you know or you'll be suffering a wrath worse than that of Black Ghost, understand me?"
The soldier nodded, eyes locked with Jet's cold stare. "Yes. The elevator at the end of this hall will take to the first floor, and it's guarded. It's been disabled to take you up any farther than that. The only way to get to the second and third floors is to use the secured lift."
"I'm going to go out on a limb and suppose it's guarded, too."
"And it needs a security code to be activated. That or a card key, which only the doctors and higher ranks carry."
Great Britain reinforced his grip on the soldier to remind him of his vulnerability, just in case he forgot. "You obviously work for Black Ghost. I thought they'd given up on trying to capture us and decided to just kill us on the spot?"
"A bounty was placed on the heads of the nine rogue cyborgs. If anyone was able to capture any alive they'd be rewarded by our leader himself. Some of our number went out and hunted you all mainly for the bounty."
"What is it these doctors plan to do with us?"
"I don't kn-"
"I'm already sick of your 'I don't knows', human!" Jet didn't notice, or just flat out disregarded, Great Britain's look at him for that statement, "What are they going to do?"
"Some sort of adjustment to the brain is all I can put together! I'm just a guard; I never hear anything about stuff like that. The only other thing I can tell you is the code to the hangar in exchange for my life!"
"Deal," the teen replied without thinking of holding any truth to his word. "Now talk. We need to move."
"He said the lift to the upper floors was past a room full of dormant drones. We'll have to sneak by to avoid a large fight, and if you see anybody going to set off a notice-"
"Come now, my boy! You talk like you think I've never handled combat before. I may not have been a cyborg for as long as you but I do know my way around a battle field."
With resources limited to shape shifting on one cyborg and the disarmed guard's single gun on the other, the two prepared themselves for the elevator doors to part. If what the little bastard said was true there would be major security when they emerged on the first floor - at least five mechanical opponents and probably a couple of living ones, as well.
"It's going to be hard. My Acceleration switch has even been tampered with. We've been left vulnerable."
"It wouldn't make sense for our enemies to make the same mistake of underestimating us twice, would it?"
"They made the same (cliché) mistake of sending down a single, mostly defenseless guard to come take care of us."
"Ha ha! Point taken, my friend."
The retraction of the two elevator doors did, in fact, reveal five robots; identical to the ones that had carted Zero-Zero-Four away earlier. From the other side of the wall of black metal came a series of human voices.
"The prisoners have escaped! Get reinforcements!"
"Yes, sir!"
The cyborgs let their battle instincts to kick in, and there was no need to inform the other of what action had to be taken. The robots turned to face them, but they had already jumped over the heads of the machines with feline-like grace that couldn't be matched by any other human or non-human being. The two living guards were still in the vicinity, and to prevent their escape Jet got between them and the door, with Zero-Zero-Seven cornering them from behind. The robots, reaction time much slower than what was needed, were still just trying to follow the cyborgs.
Pointing a super gun at the head of the more important-looking of the two Jet let it be known that he was not messing around. "Zero-Zero-Four. Call off your robots and take us to him."
"You'll never get to him. Not until you're all repaired, at least. They won't let you through."
"What do you all mean 'repaired'? What do you know about all of this?"
"It's too late for you. I've thrown the alert system; the entire base knows you're running rampant. You can kill me, but it won't matter. When the cyborg is perfected they'll just turn him on you," grinning devilishly the Captain nodded at the robots to move in on the escapees, "And when you're defeated they'll adjust and turn you on the others. There's no hope for you flawed experiments. You're doomed."
Though the blaster that went through the Captain's head right after that statement would seem to argue otherwise, the battle was far from over. Zero-Zero-Two felt an adrenaline rush coming on: it was something he always seemed to experience during battle. It was the thrill of knowing you were powerful and that the enemy feared you. It wasn't so much that he enjoyed killing as it was that he enjoyed being recognized as a top dog by his opponents. In the end it let him be more like the kid he used to be on the streets back before this disaster happened - carefree, tough, his own person. A person.
A bounded forwards past the body of the Captain (which hadn't even hit the floor yet) and Zero-Zero-Seven to greet on oncoming forces of artificial life that was programmed to destroy them. The blaster setting was fast and accurate, not to mention powerful enough to completely obliterate the armor protecting the sensitive body portion of the drones. Two shots brought down the two closest foes, and despite not having his Acceleration abilities anymore, Jet seemed to whip past them and onto the next targets.
Between Zero-Zero-Two's shooting and head bashing of the robot warriors Zero-Zero-Seven realized something the other hadn't: the guard that had originally been instructed to get help was now gone. They had gotten so involved with getting information from the Captain that they had let him slip out unnoticed. They would have to find that lift to the upper floors if they were to find Heinrich, and Great Britain had a good idea where to find a card key. He searched the nearly-headless body of the dead military leader, and in one of the pockets he located a plastic swipe key. "Zero-Zero-Two! We can fight later! We need to move now!"
It was unsettling how disappointed Jet looked when he pulled himself away from the fighting.
The lift was where they were told it would be, just as it was guarded as they were told it would be. Machine gun wielding guards began unloading hundreds of rounds at the two, hoping to change the odds of them getting to the third level. Knowing that Jet would kill them if he got the chance Great Britain took the first move by assuming the form of a vicious bull and charged forth, goring them with his horns and sending them across the room. He battered them until he was sure they were not dead, but unconscious.
Turning back to human state Zero-Zero-Seven flashed the card key, a grin on his face. "Third floor: sporting goods, women's apparel, and cyborg friends in need of help to escape imminent danger."
Ignoring the badly timed joke Jet grabbed the key and slid it through the electronic device in the wall. A tiny red light changed to green after a second-long delay, and the lift became operable to them pending it. Pressing the 'Up' button the two could only wait anxiously to move on.
"That Captain - he said something about them being able to turn Zero-Zero-Four on us. How do you think they'd manage that?"
Great Britain shook his head. "I haven't the slightest idea. The only way they could force one of our own against us, really? Probably to take away their free will. None of us would ever attack another unless we'd been stripped of our conscience."
The thought was meant only to be a hollow statement, but when thought about more it made sense. The two cyborgs stood in the small lift, shaky and unsteady as it rose up to the next floor, with the horror or realization creeping onto their faces.
"As cyborgs the scientists that altered us left our free will," Jet muttered absently, "If they take that they're taking away what separates us from these mindless robots. If they take our independent will... They take all that's human left in us."
"They think our humanity is our flaw."
"Remove the humanity, remove the flaws."
"So, then... Zero-Zero-Four?"
A lump formed in Jet's throat from the panic, knowing that Heinrich had been lost to the doctors for over an hour now. They'd had plenty of time to perform what procedures they wanted on him as it was; there wouldn't be any getting help to him if they'd already finished.
The third floor was startling different from the rest. From what they had seen they'd expected the level to be busy with scientific instruments and generators and such. They'd envisioned a massive room with poor lighting and dirty floors, with some displaced beeps and buzzing of running machinery. That was not the case.
"It's like a hotel lobby," the shape shifter said. It was a large antechamber, beautifully clean and bright. The patterned carpet drew they eyes across the room and towards six sets of double doors, all solid and sturdy looking. There were a few chairs and couches placed neatly about the room, and even a coffee table with a stack of magazines was present.
"Oh, yes, because soldiers at war have so much time to spend reading magazines between performing missions of mass murder," Jet sneered.
"I suppose this room is for the death merchants with more sophisticated tastes, huh?" As soon as the cyborg had finished his statement several doors opened, and from them emerged droves of robots designed for the sole purpose of fighting. There was at least twenty in immediate view and to fight would definitely mean to be overrun by their numbers.
"Look! That must be Med-Bay Two," the American quickly grabbed and pulled his comrade towards one of the sets of doors which had a '2' painted neatly above it. The wall that had been nearly perfect became showered with bullet holes as the robots fired at the cyborgs' backs. Jet tried the handle; it clicked and rattled, but did not turn. "Stand back. I'll blast it open."
It took eight shots to finally break open the door, which was eight more than any average door would be able to take. Once it fell the operating room became open to them, and just telling from the stares and clicks of guns being raised it was obvious they were not expected or welcomed.
"It's the other two subjects. Nobody move; hold your fire!" one of the doctors ordered from behind his mask, though he hardly sounded surprised at the interruption. "We should have worked more quickly. Now we'll have to explain the entire ordeal over this open body."
"Zero-Zero-Four!"
The worst had been confirmed with the sight of seeing the Berlin man's form set about on a white platform. His chest had been flayed open and dissected, revealing the cybernetic internal organs that kept him alive. There wasn't much blood - spatters every here and there, and some on Heinrich's remaining biological organs, but not enough to keep any human alive.
"Bastards!" Jet could literally feel the anger raging inside of him like an inferno gaining strength. Endlessly burning with a hunger fueled by hate and only stoked by a need for revenge, the intense twist inside of him pressed Jet further to his limits of hate. His finger itched to start firing the gun at any living thing, but a sliver of self control was what kept him from doing so. "Stop what you're doing! We're getting out of here and we're taking him with us. I won't let him - or any of us - become your weapons!"
Less focused primarily on vengeance Zero-Zero-Seven looked about the room. There was a suspended track above their heads which was flooring to dozens of soldiers wielding laser rifles. Accurate and fast weapons, not to mention the fact that the guards looked like they were about to be fire at any moment. And on top of those guards there were still the robots that were pursuing them from behind.
Back on the main floor the doctors - seven of them now - stepped away from Zero-Zero-Four. They knew Zero-Zero-Two's destructive force even when crippled so nobody was willing to take chances with the fiery cyborg getting too close.
The calm doctor spoke again. "My boy, I assure you, Zero-Zero-Four is fine. He's better than he ever was before-"
"Right. I'm sure you think that giving him a lobotomy really worked wonders for him."
"You misunderstand my meaning, Zero-Zero-Two," the doctor pulled off his mask and took a breath to prepare for the inevitable speech, "You are far too impatient. Fighting first and asking questions later is a good philosophy to have sometimes, but perhaps you should be a little more willing to hear what I have to say. What I was trying to explain was that we have been working to restore Zero-Zero-Four's life support system. He responded to our nueroshock technology… differently than we had expected, and we had to stabilize his system before we lost him for good. That is what we've been doing for the last, oh, forty minutes or so."
Surprised by this, Jet lowered the super gun slightly. "So, you haven't been messing with his head?"
"Ah, so you've already drawn your conclusions? I knew those guards had overheard too much to keep this plan a secret. Well, since you asked: we haven't begun tampering with his personality. Not yet. As I said, we needed to stabilize his life support system before continuing on. Can't have him dying in the middle of the operation can we?"
"So you are planning to ruin us!" Great Britain shouted.
Another scientist answered this time, passing the head of the platform that Zero-Zero-Four was laying on. He had his gloved hands put up in the air to keep himself sterile. "It's a simple process and pain free. All that really happens is the brain's functions as an emotion creator become obsolete. You'll all still be able to think clearly and such, but your decisions will no longer be clouded by sentiments. Ultimately it's for the greater good of your design."
"You're all sick," Jet growled in a threatening low voice, "You're talking about a person, not some frog put in front of you to experiment on! He's a living, breathing person just like all of you!"
"Please, Zero-Zero-Two," the first doctor continued, "Your final purpose when created was to serve as prototypes for future models. With the major errors the scientists made when they manufactured you cyborgs there is no possible way we can continue producing others like you. Prototypes are meant for perfecting upon, and now that we have the means to create you perfect..." he waved a hand at Albert.
"I'll say this once. I'll count to five, an if you don't start closing him up and getting him ready to travel then here's what I'll do: I will first shoot Zero-Zero-Four, and I'll shoot to kill."
Great Britain lost Zero-Zero-Two on that little thought. "What was that?"
"He'd rather be dead than be your death dealer, so I'll do him that last favor. Then I will shoot you so you can't continue doing this to anymore innocent people," the American's eyes narrowed furiously, "Then I'll go for your colleagues. My guess is your firing squad up there will be awake enough to shoot me by then, so they'll kill me and Zero-Zero-Seven. At least we won't have to succumb the hell you want to doom us to."
"Um, speak for yourself, Zero-Zero-Two!"
"You honestly think you'll be able to get that far, now that we just heard your entire plan?" the scientist asked smugly.
"You should realize that if we die then you have no test experiments left to practice on. The others of our group won't be captured as easily as we were, especially now that we've gone missing and they're being cautious. You may never get the chance to control one of us again."
"I highly doubt that murdering your own friend, killing yourself, and having another friend be killed for your purpose is likely something you'd do."
"And so I start counting. One."
The doctors looked at each other for reassurance that this crazy cyborg in front of them was being truthful or not, as did the sharpshooters in the balcony above.
"Two."
"It's a test of nerves. I'll not fall for your game."
"Three."
Great Britain made a crossing motion over his chest, muttering a prayer under his breath that was more theatrical than religious.
The scientist was starting to worry now. Cyborgs Two, Four, and Seven were priceless prototypes that would be the perfect candidates for the alteration procedure... If they died now he may lose that chance forever. And, after all, he may be able to have them captured again later with a more tactical strategy on his side so this wouldn't happen again...
Never mind the fact that there would be some very angry bounty hunters on his case who wouldn't be able to collect on the reward because some idiot doctor let the cyborgs kill themselves...
"Four." Steadying the super gun in his hand to aim towards Zero-Zero-Four's weakest point - his skull and throat - and placed his finger on the trigger. Honestly, he didn't want to kill his team mate. He didn't want to have to jump into this suicide mission. But death, when compared to the alternative, was preferable.
"Fine! Fine, we'll send you off," the doctor yelled quickly, losing his cool composure. His colleagues looked at him and at each other, confused and relieved at the same time. "Don't just stand there! Wrap up this surgery and stabilize the cyborg. This will delay our plans, but not put an end to them. We'll work a way around this." The doctor glared towards Jet, angry and defeated.
"A plane we could use to get out of here would be nice," Jet hinted not-so-subtly. Great Britain had about passed out on the floor from the cut tension of the situation.
When Françoise found Jet loitering about on the deck of the Dolphin - he still refused to call the ship by its designated name - it was apparent the young man had been lost in his own head for too long. He stared out at the ocean that reflected the orange and red light that emitted from the setting sun, thinking and contemplating, wondering and wishing.
"He's awake now," she said quietly, hoping to get his attention without getting his temper. Jet didn't look back. "You don't want to see him? It's because of what happened back there, isn't it? There's no need to glare at me like that. Zero-Zero-Seven told us about how you managed to get yourselves out of there alive. Yes, your actions were drastic, but if those scientists were allowed to perform the adjustments it would have been a fate worse than death."
"Zero-Zero-Four isn't angry, you know," she continued after a moment of silence, "He understands what kind of problem you had to deal with, and so do the rest of us. If somebody was trying to remove everything I've ever felt in my heart I'd rather have a friend end my life, too."
"Yeah, but would you want to be the one who has to end your friend's life?" He asked sharply. After a moment he realized his had referred to Albert as a 'friend' which was kind of a new concept. "You better hope you're never faced with that decision."
Both were quiet again, taking in the beauty of the coast and the sadness of the situation.
"He does want to talk with you when you're ready," she said, "He made me promise not to pressure you about it, but I think it would be the best for both of you if he heard what happened straight from you."
Jet was glad she left after that. He had no response to giver to her, nor did he want her to see him head off to the Sick Bay. Damned if he was going to let himself hold back what he wanted to say any longer. There was something on his mind he needed to tell that jackass Zero-Zero-Four before he ran off getting abducted again.
The bay was too large a room to be occupied by a single person. It was quiet and lonely, and just not suitable for a social soul who couldn't walk in fear of being yelled at for pushing his healing process. Jet's footsteps echoed in the room, giving Albert plenty of notice of his arrival.
"I didn't think Françoise would order to down here so soon."
"Be quiet," Jet snapped, fists clenched. Despite the sharp rebuke Albert only looked at Jet curiously, scanning the other with his peculiar blue eyes as if looking straight through him. "I've got something to say and there's only one way to say it, so just shut up and listen."
"Zero-Zero-Seven told you, right? How I was practically holding a gun to your head to save the rest of us? In all of that chaos the only thing that seemed to be the sane thing to do was the craziest, so that's what I did. That's all I have to say for threatening them that I'd destroy you to save us."
"Also, I just want to say that you're a damned idiot and I hate you."
Albert grinned perversely, irritating Jet further. "And to what do I owe that particular comment?"
"You almost died. Those scientists would have killed you - killed you in a way worse than anything I could ever do with a gun at your head. They wanted to rip out our essences: the things that make us who we are. I wouldn't want to live that, I don't think you would, either. Also, I don't think I would be able to live with myself if I had let it happen to you."
Albert raised an eyebrow but didn't appear to have been greatly affected or surprised by the declaration.
"I killed a lot of guys in the base trying to get to you before God-knows-what happened. Human guys, I mean. If it were Zero-Zero-Seven up there instead of you I don't think I would have made the same effort. Don't look at me like that; just let me talk."
"I was a killer a long time before the Black Ghost ever thought about Cyborg projects. I won't use this transformation to hide it anymore. I killed other gang members and sometimes I even killed innocent people by mistake. Now it's different because I understand the price of war, and now I know that I can become something more than just a weapon if I put myself to it. But those guys I killed in the base... I don't feel sorry for them. I don't regret it at all. They got in my way when I was trying to get to you and they paid for it with their lives. I should care, but I don't."
"If you ever put me in any position like that again, Heinrich, I will save you even if I'm down to using my bare hands to kill my opponents. And once we're safe then I'll kill you myself, you ass."
Jet turned on his heel swiftly and headed out of the Sick Bay. Albert watched him leave until and waited until he was sure the teenager was gone before laying back. He put his left hand behind his head and stared at his right, examining how the light glinted off the metal of the machine gun barrels.
Jet may not want to admit it, but he was angry because he had been scared. He had been afraid of loss, and angry that he had let the enemy strike such a soft spot. It was strange how the mortal mind could cause a flood of different feelings and responses to dire situations in people, Albert contemplated.
My eyes are tired and my wrists hurt. It's eleven at night and I'm still up finishing this god-forsken THING. It's still not as Albert-Jet focused as I'd like it to be, but at least Pyunma didn't come along and shoot the story through the heart again.
And that's it. I'm going to bed.