-Aftermath-

Chapter Seven - "The Sinister Plot"

It was a windy atop the mountain near the Goldwall estate. However, Straight didn't seem to mind much as he just seemed to stand there, waiting for something over the horizon. It had been a whole three days since his ordeal with Snyde and friends infiltrating his families factory, and he was unfortunate to be caught in the wrath of his father. Honestly, he did not like to upset him... since that usually led to a consequence of some sort. His was quite bad to boot, and he would much rather think of something else, like what was happening before him.

"So tell me... Flouse, was it? Are you and your men capable enough?" he spoke barely above a whisper, despite the noise of the wind.

Flouse, as he was so called, turned and bowed, his long bat wings retracted beneath his dark, black cape. He had dark blue fur, but had some black pants that ended at his sapphire decorated boots. His eyeballs, a dark black, had an ominous flare at his bright red eyes, with golden pupils. In a thick accent that was released from the only white fur surrounding his mouth, he answered plainly, "But of course, young Goldwall. We are at your service... That is, if the pay is good enough to motivate..."

"Ah, so it's the money is it?" he smirked, and glanced to the side to see eleven figures standing about, not even bothering to mind their own business. They stood attentively, ready for anything. "Very well then. If you manage to bring back the head of Snyde the Shadow, then I'll give you 10,000,000 zenny."

The members of this elite 'group' began to murmur, and one even whistled at what he heard. Even Flouse's mouth had dropped at what he heard, and had to forcefully shut it. Then, a rather tall and lanky Reploid stepped up, and quizzed, "10,000,000 zenny? For just one Reploid? What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, my friend. I just want him simply dead," Straight smiled politely, putting his hands in his coat pockets. "If you want, I can just let the 10,000,000 be what everyone gets, and an additional 10,000,000 for the ones who are actually capable of killing him. Just remember that I need a limb of some kind as proof."

"20,000,000 zenny! No way!" another rose, with six arms whipping around at once. "Just who the heck is this Snyde guy, anyways? We've never heard of him before 'till now, and yet here he is having that much cash placed on his small, pathetic, insignificant life!"

"I see you fail to realize my point," Straight responded coolly. He took a brief moment to pull out a gloved hand to stare at it as he began moving his fingers. "Three Reploids had infiltrated my families Reploid factory. A factory that took lots of money to get running, and lots of money to buy resources." He stared at them all with an expressionless gaze. "I need you--the best of the absolute best--to eliminate one of the pests. It just so happens that he is the first person on my list... and also because he is in the town of Mejak, which is close by... and if I must waste some spare change to eliminate him, then I will."

There was some more murmuring with the men. They all knew that an opportunity such as this only came once in a blue moon, with so much money at stake, and for someone like a member of the Goldwall's it was hardly a big deal. With a little more chatting, and a couple of nods, Flouse gave a small, toothy smile as he gently said, "The Ai Jigoku is willing to work with these agreements, young Goldwall. Shall we begin on preparations?"

"Oh, but of course Flouse. I wouldn't want you all to just charge in their blindfolded," he said, emotion suddenly jumping back into his eyes, as he started to have a small, meaningless smile placed on his lips. "First off, does anyone have their own suggestions? Good. I--"

"Hold on, I've got myself one," one of them piped up, who was sitting on a boulder. He was donned in white armor, save for his black visors attached to his pointy helmet. He had odd cuffs attached to his arms and he lacked any real feet. Instead, jet turbines could be found beneath the armored exterior. "The name's Radic the Jet, and I will personally go over to where that bitch Snyde is and kick his damn ass."

"Radic, shut up!" a smaller, tiny Reploid who appeared to be hiding in a trashcan snapped. He had, literally, a big mouth, and it was twisted into a frown of pure hatred. With a jump, he was on the boulder, staring at the Jet in the face, with his large, triangular-shaped, yellow eyeballs. "You just wanna go fight him all by yourself so you can get steal the 20,000,000!"

"That's enough!" Flouse commanded, pulling out an arm and extending his wings to show authority. "I don't care how much you two hate each other, Vex, I will no longer tolerate that attitude of yours!"

A small 'feh' escaped his mouth as he hopped off the rock and began to walk away. Straight decided to continue, with that never fading smile. "Fine then, Radic, so your telling me that your plan of action is for you to go in there all by yourself in an attempt to kick his damn ass, correct?" He received a nod, and his smile grew. "Interesting. IF you manage to pull through with such a ridiculous plan, then I may be willing to double the money for your sake... Still up to it?"

"Heh, 40,000,000 zenny?" he finally got up, hovering above everyone else. He folded his arms and let out a cocky laugh. "It sounds almost too good to be true! I swear that when I'm through with this if you decide to pull a fast one on me you'll regret it!"

Before he could answer, Radic had taken off into the distance. Straight walked toward the edge of the cliff, with Flouse right behind him, watching him quickly shrink into a tiny dot before popping out of existence. The other members, annoyed and frustrated that they could possibly lose their chance to make so much money sighed and began to trudge away, toward the Goldwall estate. Even if they would get 10,000,000 zenny, it was nothing compared to the 40,000,000 zenny that The Jet would receive.

It was then that Flouse decided to speak in his employers ear, saying "You know that Radic will not allow this 'Snyde' to even twitch by the time he's done with him, don't you?" He took a pause to breath. "So why do you think he won't be able to defeat him?"

"It's simple, really. I just happen to know that anyone with that kind of attitude is asking to meet their demise," he answered from the corner of his eye, with a shrug. "From what I have seen, Snyde couldn't even beat that fool, Jackle O'Riely, without some help from Flachion of the Shining Phoenix... But I also like to make things interesting, no?"

"True, true. I am sorry for questioning you, young Goldwall..." he took a step back and bowed. "But the Shining Phoenix? That is quite a rare airship. I heard it was stolen a little after the end of the Elf Wars..."

Straight nodded. "That was our families best airship. It was then stolen by Flachion. If anything, that was one of the worst blows that we had ever earned. To be perfectly honest, I want to save Flachion for last, so he knows without a doubt that he, too, is going to die next." He then faced Flouse, and shooed him away. "I want to be alone for a little while."

Flouse didn't even respond, as he took off into the night sky, back to the Goldwall's estate. Straight never took his eyes off him, as he watched him land on the balcony and through the glass door to the top living room. He had to admit, that having a group of mercenaries such as theAi Jigokudid give him a sense of security, that no more problems would arise from those three pests. After all, theAi Jigokuhad quite the history, with appearing right after the end of the Elf Wars and all. They also had mixed feelings with the general public, since they would either do good or bad, depending on what they were working with. With that in mind, they had people who loved them, and people who hated them. But Straight didn't care. He just wanted them to do their job so he could pay them all and then be off with it. He had things he needed to do, and he didn't want his father to know that there were still problems going about.

"So tell me, Snyde..." he said smiling still, looking out towards the setting sun, "...Can you possibly withstand the power of my 'Super Reploids?'"

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Elsewhere, back at the city of Mejak, Snyde was in the opera house talking Quisar. It had taken him three whole days to get back, since Flachion was so kind enough as to ditch him in the middle of nowhere, and he was slightly cranky from the lack of sleep. He didn't quite understand why, but lately his luck had been turning into a complete and utter pile of garbage. After explaining his story to the best of his ability, Quisar gasped, shocked.

"I-i-infiltrated the Goldwall's! Madness, sir!" he was sitting down, but it looked as if he was about to jump right out of it. He began to stroke his short, stubby mustache, his eyes widened with fear. "What if they come here? Here! Ohhhh... I don't think my old heart could possibly take it... I feel faint..."

Snyde decided to change the subject. He really did get tired of Quisar's rants. "So... where's Gloria? Did Flachion show up and kidnap her again?"

"Goodness, no! She went to bed early tonight," he still looked nervous, but he tried to calm down, and took a sip of hot tea. "I still can't believe what Flachion has done. After what you did for him and everything! You don't deserve that kind of treatment, sir!"

There was no answer, as Snyde stood up and left. He needed to get away... some peace and quiet for once. Going back to the town, he stopped off in the pub, and had three glasses of scotch. He loved that stuff, it always helped him relax. Ignoring the people staring at how he could so swiftly take off his mask and put it back on, he slugged down a fourth glass and was already requesting for a fifth. He wanted to get drunk, and he was finally starting to feel the side effects from the alcohol. As his white gloves firmly grasped that the petty glass, he was holding his breath to slug it down.

"Somethin' wrong, pal?" the bartender asked, cleaning another glass. He had just finally replaced the nasty tin cups with some fancy glass, even if a Reploid could easily shatter it with no pressure.

"Bah... life just sucks..." he muttered, staring at the venomous liquid. "It seems to me that no matter what the Hell I do, it always bites me, and its been just bugging me lately..."

The bartender's face grimaced at that, and slowly nodded, his eyes closed. "Yeah, know how that is. Mejak's been in some pretty bad shape. Five whole years..." He held the glass up to inspect it, searching for any spots. Not finding any, he put it away and grabbed another. "Well, as much as people who pass on by help the economy, I won't try and stop ya from goin'. I would suggest you actually go visit Heltz, that place is gonna be throwing a tournament soon. Even I may take a day off if the place can hold up."

Heltz. The Rebel series was going to be attacking there eventually. Soon, perhaps. This tournament was also soon. There could be a connection, and yet there might not. Snyde knew that he had to get there before it was too late, but it would take weeks to walk there by foot... and by then it might just be too late to stop what was already beginning. Just what were the Goldwall's planning? Using their vast amounts of money and resources to create an army of... perfect killers? And Jackle O'Riely was now hot on his tail, and he wouldn't be surprised if he were to show up at any minute, exclaiming about he would kill him for revenge. Everything was just getting so... complicated.

"The grim reaper... is always after me..." he said quietly. Fortunately, no one had heard him, as he lowered his head to stare at his drink. He had heard it once, a few years ago, and it just stuck. He never had realized until recently that what he was saying was so true. There were cameras in the Goldwall's factory. He was probably caught. They would know that he was there, and they could easily find him through insurance records for all of the damage he's done. Or maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe all he would have to worry about is O'Riely, since Tog hadn't shown up yet to scold him. Scold him, for something that he felt was doing good. Why the heck was it that he just couldn't agree with him for once, and let him off the hook? Last time he was scolded, he may have killed some people, but in the end he managed to save innocent lives. He should have just killed everyone if that was going to be the case...

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It was dark, and he didn't know where he was. He felt... different. Odd, even. It was then he noticed someone else. Another Reploid, who also wore nothing but black. He, too, had a sword, but it was the exact opposite of Snyde's. It was long and thin, but it was still way too thick to be a rapier. His shoulder pads also weren't round. They were block-shaped, and his helmet didn't have a curve at the end. No, his helmet had a pair of horns in the back, which twisted down to his neck. He looked pure evil, as his eyes were red, thirsty for blood. Then, in the blink of an eye, they turned to a normal, dull black, and he began walking away. Snyde didn't want to follow, but his legs moved on their own, and he was forced to go.

After walking for what seemed to be an eternity, the Reploids stopped, and Snyde could hear him say, friendly-like, "So, Snyde, I guess we're off, eh? Off on an adventure..."

"Yeah," he spoke despite his wishes, his struggle in vain. "Master was killed due to the Elf Wars, and we've got no where else to go... But where--?"

"We'll figure something out," Was all he could answer, cutting him off. He crossed his arms, thinking, not sure himself. "But we should keep a low profile... we never know what could happen out there." He then started to walk away. "C'mon, let's get going."

"Hey!" Snyde began chasing after him, something he found no luxury in. "Wait for me, Drake!"

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In an instant, Snyde shot up, some sheets falling off of his arms. He was in a bed, but where that bed was he wasn't certain. Perhaps he passed out from fatigue, all of those nights with little to no sleep finally catching up to him... Maybe the bartender decided to give him his bed, which was a mistake, as his weight could hardly support the flimsy mattress. Scooting himself off the bed, Snyde went over by a window, moonlight pouring through it as he spotted construction tools were littering the ground, the tired construction workers leaving them behind as they trudged on home hours ago. He wondered what time it was.

But more importantly, he wondered about that dream. That dream... he hadn't had one like it in so long, it almost made him shiver in fear. It seemed to him that no matter how hard he tried he would always be plagued by them, no matter how long ago it was, no matter how far he traveled. It was just as bad as Jackle Oriely, but bad in a different kind of way. If he were, he could just kill Oriely and be done with it. No more questions. But the dreams... they may never end. Even if he were to deactivate himself, he knew that somehow he would only get an eternal dream of those horrifying memories, of that day... of that day...

"Drake," he said solemnly. He lowered his head as he finished, "why is it that you must continue to follow me, even to this day...? Why..."

Not wanting to ruin the bed even more so than he had already, Snyde found a chair and sat in it. Luckily it was metal, the only thing that could support him, as he rested in it, and leaned back, up on a wall. Kicking his boots up on a desk and crossing them, he put his hands behind his head as he continued to think about the dream... dreams... He never tried to think about it, but every time he woke up he just had to. It was the only way to get his mind off of it. He slowly started to nod off back to sleep, however, and began to snore lightly. This time, the dreams were much, much more peaceful...

It was still nighttime as a streak of white flew toward Mejak. Radic the Jet, member of the Maxim Blaizers, had his sights set on a certain Reploid who was hopefully still there. His visors doing a search throughout the town for a Reploid of that description, it started to bleep at a nearing building off to the right of him. Adjusting his flight pattern, he began to go down, preparing for an all outstrike against, from what he considered, the bitch.

"Heh... soon..." he told himself, to help boost his confidence before he got started. "Very soon... all of that money... all of it will be mine... and then I'll just bump Flouse out of the way and take my spot as the true leader of Jigoku! And then... oh then... I'll show 'em all!"

A laugh could be heard by anyone who was awake in that town. Quisar, who had finally gotten out of his suit and into some pajamas, was about to slip into bed when he heard it. Shuddering at the noise, he wondered if Snyde was all right.

He puts on a big act, to show that he doesn't care about hardly anything... he thought, as he turned off the lights. But I know better than that, after all, he helped save my daughter from that awful Flachion... I truly do hope that things will start to look up for him. I truly do...

Snyde didn't hear the laugh, however. He didn't hear it, nor did he want to hear it. He wanted to be left alone right then. He wanted to dream of things that didn't result in anything with fighting, killing, insurances, factories, armies, or anything with riches. He just wanted... to dream. A dream that would let him be content for once in his life. Unfortunately, the one thing he didn't want to hear at that time, should have been something he should have heard... It was coming.

To be continued...

Author's Notes: Ah, been quite a while, eh? Well, I have yet to finish my next chapter do to so many distractions, but it's getting there. However, I have decided to update the fanfic here, since it has been in dire need of an update, considering that it is so outdated. Anyways, about this chapter... Straight Goldwall called upon the Maxim Blaizers, a group of Reploid mercenaries, to exterminate Snyde. Flouse the Bat, the leader, decided to let Radic the Jet, another member, go after Snyde. And true to his name, Radic is quite radical in what he does. The chapter shall be nothing more than just one large fight scene; a battle to the death.

And to answer something which might be questioned... Straight is serious about him going all out to killing Snyde. He honestly just wants him dead, and he is capable of going to all extremes to have just one Reploid dead. Plus, he's got money to blow. He's just that rich.