"Coming from a waste of time, Yammark's weapon sure is handy," Zero commented. They were in the training grounds, each flooring level 11 test droids while the rookies, human and reploid, gaped. Considering that he had already died before, Zero's latest resurrection was unsurprising to all.

"Yeah. Nearly impenetrable shield that fires projectiles and has low energy cost!" X demonstrated.

"Wow. Guess this means the most powerful boss has a crappy weapon."

"We'll see."

"Cool!" came a fanboyish yell, "We need teams of four to take down one of those things!"

"You knocked out eight in a row by yourselves!" another piped.

"Well, we are better than you," Zero glowered, "You are all little better than cannon fodder during Maverick attacks."

"Zero! Be nice to the noobs!"

"But they're so easy to take advantage of! And they NEVER helped us during the wars! We've had to rescue them for the past two, in fact!"

"I know, I know, but it's not nice."

"Phfft. As if I'm nice!"

After Zero left, a subdued fanboy stammered to his commander, "But didn't we make weapons and upgrades for you?"

"Noobish little boy," X condescended, "You just stole weapon plans from the enemy. It was Douglas who decrypted the files, and created said upgrades."

"Didn't you kick his face in not two hours ago?"

X set his jaw.

"And how'd you like a face-kicking yourself? Git! All of you, git!"

The noobs scurried in fear. On his way to HQ, Alia walked by, her hair let down. X whistled.

"Since when were you effeminate?"

"Around Gate."

"He's not here. Or I didn't get the memo?"

"I'm trying to insult you, lunkhead! I'm trying to say only Gate brings out my feminine charms!"

"Dear God. If your business calls are any indication of your personal life, I'd rather dip myself in molten carbonite."

Alia scrunched up her face, balled her fists and squealed like a boiling kettle.

"Oooh! MEN!"

"We're the reason you exist, baby!"

"ARGH!"

She pummeled X into the floor until she felt better, giving him a swift kick in his non-existent balls before leaving. A noob poked his head from around the corner, snickered at X's crumpled form, and got half his head shot off.

"OW!"

"In my day that was just a flesh wound! You next-generation reploids are little better than foreign used cars!"

The half-head noob sniveled and bawled, "Mommy, mommy, X was mean and shot me in the face!"

Unbelievably, Alia was still hanging around. She seemed to savour little victories as much as the next woman.

"You poor thing! Go get a bandage while mommy takes care of mean old X."

Alia returned and gave X a swift kick to the face. Unlike his absent gonads, he felt that one.

888

"Good CRAP. He defeated Yammark!" Isoc yelped. Gate backhanded the old man.

"Yammark was a test."

"The same way a blood test resembles the SAT's, I imagine. I could have taken that dragonfly out of commission!"

"Yammark was more powerful than any of the next-generation reploids currently being produced."

"Then our offspring suck! What, are we inbreeding? Should I move operations to Alabama with a banjo on my knee?"

His reward was another backhand.

"Silence. I was about to address this horrid inbreeding problem. Production has waned ever since the first generation that X built with Dr. Cain. We are using cheaper materials, rehashed coding and old binary data to build reploids. I have the solution to all this."

He held up a slim, black and green rectangle.

"The Atari cartridge for Tron?"

"No, you imbecile, Zero's DNA!"

Isoc's jaw dropped, he backed away and sputtered, "EWWW! You have Zero's stuff all over your hand!"

Gate turned several shades of pissed, and backhanded Isoc out of existence.

"Good grief, why did I create him?"

"Public relations?" rumbled Hi Max, nibbling on beef jerky.

"I guess so! He has done nothing useful other than announce the Nightmare Investigation!"

"Well, there goes a few million credits out of your personal fortune."

"Remind me, next time I have the irresistible urge to spread public panic, to design a superweapon instead."

"Like me?"

"Oh, yes! You. Go kill X and Zero."

"Whatever you say, boss."

As the axe-head walked off, Gate pawed at the shard of Zero's DNA.

"My precious…

888

"X and Zero are jerks."

"What makes you say that?"

Alia was at the comm. console while Signas, as ever, lounged uselessly in his command chair. He had begun to think of late that all he was good for was yelling the obvious whenever it occurred.

"After making the newbies… I mean, cadets, cry, I had to bandage some and sing all of them to sleep."

"Don't you think you are being overtly nurturing these days?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It must be Gate's return… we used to be such a good team…"

"What about us? Aren't we a good team?"

"Signas, all I do is tell X and Zero what their next mission is. All you do is repeat what I said in a louder, more imperious tone."

He looked hurt.

"But it's for emphasis!"

"Gate increased reploid processing speed by two hundred percent."

Signas grumped. Alia offered a small smile.

"Don't feel bad. Not all men are… cut out… for the rigors of command."

"That's right! I'm a very important… hey! You don't mean that! You're just being nurturing again!"

"Awww. But I do mean it."

"Make that sound again."

"Awww?"

"Ahhh…"

At that moment, Signas knew that he liked cute sounds. It made him forget how superficial his job was, as X and Zero did all the work.

888

Speaking of work, X was tackling the Museum.

"Zero and his stupid constitutionals… Who cares if his hair is less stunning than before his 'death'? Fricken' Clairol Man, that's what he is…"

X hated teleportation devices, and this stage was plagued with them. Disorientation was in full effect by the time he stepped through the fourth – or was it the fifth? – Totem pole/teleporter.

"WHERE THE HELL AM I NOW?"

"Calm down, X."

"Daddy? Where are you, Daddy?"

"Right above you. Just avoid those nasty Nightmares…"

"AHHH! TENTACLE RAPE!"

"Dear Lord. I didn't design you for… never mind."

Blam! Blam! Blam!

"Take that, rapists!"

"X, they're not… look, here's another piece of the Blade Armour."

"But it suuuuuuucks!"

"Be quiet and take your medicine!"

X pouted.

"Yes, Dad. Yeesh."

Braving wind and weather (why the hell was it raining inside a museum?) X found the dung beetle.

"Phew! What a stench! Aren't you supposed to be a scarab?"

"Yaishuh."

"Buh?"

"Yaishuh, yaishuh."

"Not very talkative, are we."

The dung beetle was rolling his ball of what's-it while repeating "Yaishuh" over and over. After a good few zaps from the Yammark Option, the ball of what's-it became bigger and bigger along with its smell, and the beetle grunted with the effort of kicking that thing around. X's nose seemed to have contracted into his face, and he was grateful that he did not have to breathe. The breathing motions he went through were to make him appear more human. Oxygen was only used in extreme combat situations, to heighten energy output by mixing it with his fusion core. Even then, it was only a superficial benefit; he could fight in outer space. But now he faced a staggering stink. It was hardly extreme.

"YAAH!"

That parting shot finished the job and blew the ball of what's-it to smithereens. It splattered all over his shiny blue armour. He lifted his arms away from his body as he spluttered in revulsion, "BLLLEEECCCCCHHH!" and resolved to never, ever set foot in a museum again.