Like a busy hive, the Inner Consortium was abuzz with activity. Scientists, researchers, and other non-combatants were ushered deeper into the facility and out of harm's way while security personnel, both man and machine, scrambled to secure defensive positions. Much of the Inner Consortium was offices, server rooms, and typical corporate lounges and art installations, but there were plenty of hard, secure checkpoints put in place to contain or stall any anomaly or variant, or an intrepid intruder. That said, the chaos that erupted because of C and/or Nidhogg had taken a toll on the Consortium's forces. Plenty of casualties, dubious mechs with misaligned combat parameters, and the whole of the Consortium in disarray did not bode well for future engagements.
Now, nearly one-third to a half of the Consortium's remaining forces were engaged with some mega mech up on the surface. Worse, the high-value asset that had returned after several years had gone rogue, and she had no qualms about cutting down anyone in her way.
"Positions! Get those suppressors up and running, but don't activate them just yet," one guard barked, an elite with two squads under his supervision. "The asset will be here at any moment. We must stop her here."
From what chatter they could gleam from topside, the rogue asset had disappeared into the hangar and was descending the elevator shaft towards the conference center. This place had seen its fair share of battle already if the scattered mechs, robots, and corpses were any indication. The regular rank and file built up defenses among the mechanical husks and leveled everything they had at the doors leading to the hangar's lower level. Suppressors, small devices that sent out a wide range of disorientating, concussive waves, would be instrumental in pinning the asset down. And once she was neutralized, she could be contained, and perhaps this nightmare could end before it got any worse.
"Quiet! You hear that?"
Beyond the closed doors, the gathered men could hear debris slamming into the bottom of the elevator shaft. The floor shook from the impact, but it would continue to do so as that ancient mech rampaged up above. There seemed to be at least one-hundred stories between the Inner Consortium and the surface, and yet the damage that mech was doing was enough to send paintings tumbling off the walls. Another sound was heard; the hum of a hard light blade, the creaking of metal, and then… nothing. Seconds trickled by as the men steeled themselves for the asset's rampage, but when a full minute went by without any action, they glanced among themselves in confusion.
"Is it possible that she-"
"Negative. B was adamant that she'd come here."
"Well she's either not here, or she's keeping quiet. Anyone wanna go check?"
An uncomfortable silence settled as no volunteers came forth. Just before the elite officer could pick a sacrificial lamb to check the hangar, the group heard a vent cover break open above them, followed by the harrowing clink of pins being pulled.
"She's in the vents! Fire!"
But it was too late to stop her. From the vents came several EMP grenades that rolled and bounced in all directions before unleashing their payload. The average Consortium security officer was equipped with advanced technology such as particle shields and cybernetics, but against an EMP they could be suppressed or outright disabled. On their own, EMP grenades were a nuisance anyone could bounce back from after a few seconds, but the asset was dastardly clever. Dropping from other openings in the vents were bundles of high explosive grenades; these things were dangerous enough, but against targets without any defenses, it was almost inhumane.
Hellfire and concussive blasts erupted from these terrible little bombs while shrapnel splashed around, killing and wounding indiscriminately. One grenade rolled beneath a heavy gunner and ignited his ammunition, and in the blink of an eye, he simply ceased to exist. Other guards hit the deck or took cover behind destroyed mechs. This offered them some protection from the shrapnel, yet the concussive blasts either knocked them around or kept them pinned, and thus unable to fight back. By the time the explosions fizzled out and the dust settled, the group was in shambles.
Another vent cover broke open, this time behind the gathered force. Those who turned to challenge the asset soon blanched as they noticed the glowing, whirring weapon in her hands. Known as the Stormram, this particle cannon could eradicate just about anything a user pointed it at. She pulled the trigger and let the sparks fly for a good few seconds before the heat sink could take no more abuse, and so the Stormram fizzled out. But the damage had been done, and, suffice to say, there were no survivors on the receiving end.
For a brief moment, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. All Ann could hear was the thumping of her heart in her chest.
"Underhanded, but clever," the voice in her head murmured. "I didn't realize you had so many toys at your disposal."
"A savvy warrior uses all of her tools," Ann grumbled in reply, her voice without mirth. "I wanted to sneak by, but-"
"But then you'd have to deal with them later, and experience has taught you that you don't like being stabbed in the back. Good show, regardless."
With only a scoff in response, Ann put away the Stormram, turned away from her handiwork, and started booking it down an adjacent hallway.
She hated to admit that she knew the Inner Consortium like the back of her hand. Before Amok entered the picture and offered her a reset, Ann had the displeasure of patrolling the halls, escorting smug scientists, running back and forth checking on variant containment cells, and generally exploring miles upon miles of what she perceived to be bland, uninspired corridors and offices. Such rooms tended to blend into a disorganized, nondescript mess, but Ann had been there long enough to suss out enough details to get her bearings. The lounges were impressive, however; Ann couldn't lie about those.
"Who do we rescue first?"
"Oh god, I hadn't thought of that," Ann gasped.
If it was any consolation, killing G offered Ann more time to act. Were he alive at this point, he may have already ordered Ryan and Ayane's execution. But other senior staff members could call down the axe, and with the mech rampaging topside and Ann and Amok deep in the heart of the Consortium, someone was bound to lose their nerve and pull the trigger.
"Ryan. I have to-"
"The deadweight? What use would he serve? He's the one who sparked this journey in th-"
"Shut up! He's not to blame for any of this," Ann growled. She slowed her pace to a brisk walk as she threw her hands up in annoyance. "It's all the Consortium's fault, using him as bait. Them and that damned Prophet, too, whatever the hell that is."
"He's weak."
"He's family. I set out on all this to find him and bring him home, and that's what I'm going to do."
"A woman with integrity," Amok scoffed, amused.
With the conversation over, Ann picked up the pace and barged through a set of double doors into a massive office cluttered with cubicles. In an instant, she was fired at by a squad of AI guards who weren't programmed for diplomacy. Ann knew plenty about these enemies from her tenure; their rifles were state-of-the-art and capable of punching holes in all but the sturdiest of targets, bypassing shields if need be. Their mechanical bodies were well-armored and their processors worked at lightning speed to give them an edge in any combat situation, yet they lacked human ingenuity, and their tactics left much to be desired. A well-placed EMP grenade or two could make short work of them, though Ann had run through her supply just a moment before.
Ann closed the distance and brought her blade down upon the drones like a hot knife through butter. She was amazed at how effortless the kills were, though she figured it was because she was still using Amok's saber. That said, raw strength and a powerful blade alone couldn't win every fight, and after a few rounds glanced off Ann's combat suit, she remembered to utilize her greatest strength; mobility. She curled through the air and rolled under gunfire, dashing between targets with the help of her thrusters. Like a guerrilla, Ann knew that to stay in one place for too long was suicide.
As soon as the last AI guard fell, Ann looked around and realized that she had a captive audience. Inner Consortium staff were hunkered down in their claustrophobic cubicles while others peered over barricades. Coming back through after dealing with Nidhogg, Ann thought that the place looked far more chaotic than ever before. Couches and chairs were overturned and set up as makeshift barricades while trash, papers, and documents galore were scattered all over the floor. The droning of alarms and glow of emergency lights was a constant staple; many overhead lights had been knocked out thanks to the rumbling, destructive mech topside.
"You."
One of the scientists looked up from his hiding spot and squirmed as Ann towered above him.
"I'm looking for a young man with gray hair. Stands about this high, scar over his eye, gray and blue jacket."
"Don't tell her anything, Marco!"
Ann turned her head and watched as another scientist cowered behind his cubicle. Others were more or less doing the same, but there were a few who seemed annoyed, or outright furious. Any one of them could have a pistol hidden away, just waiting for the chance to plug a bullet into the back of Ann's head.
"Marco, huh? Listen Marco, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know where I can find that man. If you can tell me, I'll leave you all alone. You'll never see me again."
Either Ann's tone wasn't up to snuff or she lacked the right words to say, for the cowering scientist, Marco, refused to answer. His gaze fell on her boots, stained with red blood that was not hers. Other scientists murmured among themselves in hushed tones while the shuffling of feet could be heard echoing from deeper inside the complex. Through it all, Ann could feel irritation bubbling up inside like a kettle of toxins over a slow and steady flame.
"I need to know, Marco. Please, it's my brother we're talking about."
"I-I don't know anything," Marco mumbled, shaking his head. "I just… I just keep my head down. I don't ask questions."
Amok's cold voice flittered through Ann's head.
"He's lying."
Even Ann was doubtful, yet she tried to keep a cool head even as her fingers curled. She rested on her haunches and got eye-level with the man.
"Either you tell me what I want to know," she hissed, her expression stoic, "or this bad day is going to get a lot worse for you."
The man soon buckled under Ann's firm gaze, and to those nearby, none could blame him. He explained that, while he didn't know where exactly Ryan was, he did recall seeing him pass by. Ann got more details out of him without any further issues, then she moved on. Time was of the essence, a fact Amok reminded her of.
"That drake up there can hold its own, but only for so long. Keep moving, Ann."
"Will you tell me if and when it's knocked out?"
"Don't worry," Amok chuckled. "You'll know."
Ann received a variety of reactions from Inner Consortium staff as she dashed through hallways, corridors, and more offices. Most left her alone, many out of fear and a few out of confusion, as if they hadn't gotten the memo about her. Some clung to each other or stuck themselves against a wall out of Ann's way, cursing her under their breath. A few outright shrieked and fled either to their hiding spot or to find security. Ann didn't feel the need to stop any of them.
Security rose to meet Ann, sometimes through ambushes, but they only served to delay her progress. At first, Ann treated them with the respect they deserved, but after clearing her way through office after office with seemingly no end in sight, she began to see them as an annoyance. The irritation that had been building inside found release in combat; Ann took it all out on whoever was foolish enough to face her head-on. Clean cuts and precision acrobatics devolved into savage strikes and brutal martial arts as Ann's mood darkened. And all the while Amok looked on, feeding off Ann's budding bloodlust and encouraging her to keep going.
"That's the third mech group so far," Ann grunted, pulling her blade from a new scrap pile. She wiped away sweat with the back of her hand and sighed. "I must be getting close."
Ann stumbled into the doors at the end of her gauntlet and scoffed in disgust when they wouldn't budge. Looking through the windows she realized that they were being blocked with furniture, of all things.
"Someone's desperate," she murmured under her breath.
A few swipes from her powered blade were more than enough to clear the barricade and see her inside a spacious office. A squad of five Consortium security officers stood as a close-knit bunch and stared her down. These armored enforcers looked the same as all the others in their anonymous black uniforms and orange visors and were equipped just the same with ballistic shields, pistols, and rifles, though Ann noticed that they had melee weapons of their own. Hard light tonfa, a razor-edged combat knife, and even a set of brass knuckles; antiquated, yet timeless. They were different from the usual grunts, if not unhinged.
Leading the group was a much taller, more elite officer wearing what looked to be the Consortium's most advanced power armor or exoskeleton. Either that or this officer was thoroughly enhanced with cybernetics; perhaps he was a cyborg, as there was no way the Mechanika virus could have shaped something so immaculate. Attached to his back was a large weapon, a deadly, energized minigun that not even Ann believed she could lift. But this officer didn't have the weapon in his massive hands, ready to fire. Instead, glaring out from a cold, red visor, he welcomed Ann with open arms.
"So this is Zero-Six, huh? A scrawny little runt like you?"
"Where's Ryan?!"
There was no need to be vague; if anyone knew who Ann was, they knew who she was after.
"Ryan… Ryan…" Pondering for a moment, the power-armored officer brought his hand up. "Let's see… Gray hair, gray jacket, about yay high?"
Ann opened her mouth to retort, but a metallic glint caught her eye on the officer's gloves. Fresh blood. Glancing among the gathered men, Ann noticed more bloody gloves. Her blue eyes narrowed for a split second before going wide. Chuckling, the squad leader stepped to the side with his group, revealing their captive guest behind them. Everything that Ann had been feeling up until that moment was now irrelevant compared to the devastation that burst in her heart.
Tied to a chair and slumped over was Ryan Flores. Blood trickled from his lip while fresh bruises and welts marred his face. His clothing was stained with blood and sweat, his dark eyes downcast, and his teeth gritted in agony. He seemed so still at first glance as if all hope was lost, yet Ann could see the subtle rise and fall in his chest as he sucked in each breath.
On the far wall of the room, a holographic screen stretched out and hummed to life, revealing one of the Consortium's senior staff on the other end. Whereas a normal person would be sitting behind a desk, the employee behind the screen was instead perched close, resting on his haunches. Dr. B was supposedly one of the best and brightest of the Consortium's senior staff, though at times he was overshadowed or underestimated given the fact that, well, he was a literal monkey. Whether through cybernetic enhancements or external technology, B was able to communicate his inner thoughts and carry out his tasks just as well as anyone else. He had helped Ann through the Consortium at first, though he ultimately used her the same as G did.
"Subject Zero-Six," his guttural voice echoed. "This rampage… it must come to-" The monkey looked down at the assembled squad, then to Ryan's battered body. "What… What have you done…? I urged… no harm…!"
"Oh, sorry about this, doc," the squad leader replied with a shrug. "You see, me and my boys were all high-strung knowin' some little girl was running around killing our pals. And this brat," he gestured to Ryan, "just wouldn't keep his mouth shut. You know how we are; gotta keep the peace, right?"
Ann was aware of B pleading with her, but it was mere background noise. From shock, awe, and disgust came a boiling rage the likes of which Ann had felt once before, so very long ago. It had sparked the incident that ruined Ryan's eye and encouraged Ann to move out, lest she lost control again. Here she felt that control slipping away once more, all the while Amok egged her on.
"They beat him," Amok pointed out. "Well, Ann? Are you going to let-"
"You bastards…"
Whether it was Amok exerting her influence or something just as dark and dangerous taking hold of her, Ann let go and gave in. Her eyes glowed once again as her hair shifted to cyan, and again the air sizzled around her. Rage built like bile in her throat demanding to come out. Teeth gritted, hair flowing, Ann materialized her sword, Amok's saber, and pointed it at the five guards. There would be no negotiations, not anymore.
"I'll kill every one of you!" she howled, her voice a terrible blend of hers and Amok's.
The guards' reactions varied from shocked and alarmed to eager and amused. A fresh palette swap, or rather, a bit of glow and a change in hair color, didn't change the fact that Ann looked thin and diminutive to these guards. They could take her. They were positively chomping at the bit to take her! With weapons in hand, the four guards advanced upon Ann while the leader looked on, confident that he wouldn't have to step in.
Overconfidence and ignorance were a fatal mix, and as the guards closed in, the result was akin to walking face-first into a lawnmower. Ann stood her ground and sliced off an arm in one fluid motion before bringing it back, cutting the first unfortunate guard in half. Before his body fell Ann was upon the next one in a flash. She overpowered his attempt to block with his knife and hacked him down to his knees before a bash to the back of her head sent her reeling, yet still very much in the fight. For the offending guard's insolence, Ann punished him with a lunging stab that buried the hilt of her blade tight to his chest.
The fourth guard panicked and hid behind his ballistic shield. To his delight, Ann's strikes glanced off the shield like heavy rounds against sloped armor, complete with harrowing hisses and whistles. But Ann was not deterred, and so she kept hacking like a woman possessed, and in effect, she was. Amok was in there, letting out the frustration she had felt being sealed away for so, so long. Whoever was in control at that moment was a mystery; they were one and the same.
A heavy slash broke the shield apart, then, with sheer brute strength, Ann shoulder charged the guard to the floor. Like biting wind she was upon him, thrusting her blade down into his body. Not content with just one stab, Ann followed it up with another, then another, then once more before bringing the now bloodied blade down across the man's throat. She turned on her heel and brought her blade back into its ready position as her glowing eyes glared at her final target.
The armored leader recoiled in terror. Gone was his bravado in the face of an irrepressible force. He cursed and reached for a handgun on his hip as he turned toward Ryan, but Ann didn't let him get that far. She plunged that wicked blade into his side, exploiting a weak spot in his armor, and once he was on his knees, all it took was one final blow. The leader conceded with a bow of his head, leaving Ann towering over his decapitated corpse as the victor.
She looked around for more threats, but nothing greeted her save the rumbling from above. Other than that and the constant alarms, it was rather quiet. Looking down at her feet, Ann could much more clearly see what she had seen before; Amok as her reflection in the pooled blood of her enemies. Before, it had been an unpleasant sight, but now, with her eyes glowing yellow, her teeth bared, and hair blowing with that superpowered sheen about it, the resemblance was uncanny.
Ann frowned. Amok smiled.
"Feels good to cut loose, doesn't it?" the aberration purred.
"I don't get any joy out of this," Ann snapped back.
"You and your audience both."
Curious, Ann glanced up, expecting to see Dr. B on the holographic screen only to notice Ryan looking up at her from his constraints. What should have been a joyous moment had been spoiled by pain and tainted with fear. There was no mistaking the love Ryan had for his sister, and while that could be seen as clearly as a fire in the darkness, so too could Ann see the fear in his eyes. She had been lost in the carnage; not only was she bloody, but she hadn't yet calmed down from her superpowered state. If Ryan was afraid of this, Ann reasoned that she could forgive him.
"Hey Ryan," Ann cooed, her voice soft once again. She sheathed her sword and moved behind him to work on his ties. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here. It's me, Ryan."
"Ann… W-what's happening?"
"It's a long story, but first of all we need to get out of here while we still can."
"No, leave me."
"What the-" Ann came back around to Ryan's front with ties dropping from her hands. She reached out and jostled him. "Ryan? What's gotten into you?"
"Sorry, sis. I screwed up…" Freed from his constraints, Ryan leaned back and managed a pained, sad smile. "I just wanted to help you. I didn't know that it'd lead to this…"
"I know, Ryan. I know."
"They lied to me. They said they'd give me-"
"-give you N540," Ann finished with a nod of her head. "And the Prophet lied too, I know. But none of that matters, Ryan. Right now we need to get out of here."
"Just leave me. I'm the deadweight that brought you into this mess."
Ann could feel Amok's smug satisfaction at the idea, but she remained resolute.
"You went through hell trying to get N540 for me, so I'm going to go through hell for you. Not out of obligation or pity, Ryan," Ann shook her brother once more, "but because… you're my brother. I don't want to lose you."
Ryan hesitated at the sentiment before he started to sob. In an instant, Ann threw her arms around her brother and held him tight. She wasn't quite sure what to say, and a part of her was worried that he'd push her away, but thankfully Ryan held on and buried his head into Ann's shoulder. His blood and tears coupled with those sobs quickly sobered Ann, and soon, she was back to her usual raven-haired, blue-eyed self. She took relief in knowing that Ryan was still the same dramatic, stubborn firebrand as he always had been.
"Come on. Let's go home."
Again Ann heard Dr. B's gruff voice from the holographic screen.
"Subject Zero-Six, the-"
"Stop calling me that! My name is Ann! Ann Flores!" Rising from Ryan's arms, Ann turned to face the monkey on the wall. "I don't care what you say; I'm a person, not a tool, and especially not your tool!"
"Please, accept my apologies," B pleaded. His gaze settled over the five dead guards. "Had I known these men… would be so unhinged…"
"Save it," Ann barked. "I'm getting Ryan out of here, even if I have to destroy this base to do so."
"This rampage will have… grace consequences. The Consortium must maintain base security… or else the variants contained within… will be free to cause havoc up above. We must secure, contain, and-"
"I missed the part where that's my problem. I'm not the one who stockpiles abominations and contains them in cute glass cages. And for what, the greater good? I've seen the worst of the Consortium already." Exasperated, Ann flung her arms out wide. "You toss detainees at these abominations, you sacrifice your staff, you subjugate anyone who doesn't tow the line, and if someone knows too much, you have no problem executing them."
B shook his head and sighed.
"LIMEN… It poses a grave threat… Only the Consortium can neutralize it. We must-"
Ann ignored B and instead reached for a red syringe from her inventory. She didn't care about the Consortium or whatever it stood for. Not even Amok cared, as she offered nothing in the way of commentary. All that mattered was getting Ryan and Ayane out from here; they didn't deserve to be a part of this mess. Keeping Ryan steady, Ann applied a stim-shot to his leg and watched as the healing medicine and stimulants rushed to work.
"Ow!"
"Sorry," Ann murmured, unable to keep from smiling. She had to admit that she always got a kick out of seeing her brother squirm. "But hey, with this you can walk on your own. And that's good… because I need you."
"Wha-?"
"Ayane. She's here, too," Ann explained. She helped Ryan out from his chair and supported him as best as she could as he stood beside her. "I can't fight and carry her at the same time. I need you to help her. Please."
"H-hey, no need to convince me, sis. If she's here, then I'll… I'll do my best."
"Thank you, Ryan."
It would take a minute or so before the healing medication brought Ryan back to his usual self, but Ann wasn't willing to wait around. Urging him forward, she held him steady with an arm around his side while the other clasped his hand tight to her shoulder. If need be, she could reach for her pistol and down a guard or two with relative ease, and if the opposition was too great, Ryan could be propped against a wall while she and Amok cleaned house. She was just about to leave this wretched, bloodstained office when B, not content with being ignored, shifted his holographic screen over the exit.
"Ann… You must listen. This chaos… what you are capable of… Only the Consortium can put an end to it all. We-"
"Shut up, monkey," Ann growled. Fury flashed in those blue eyes of hers, turning them yellow for just a moment. "And don't get in my way, or else I'll skin you alive."
B wrinkled his nose and huffed, but that was all he did. He couldn't stop Ann from leaving, not now with what little he had. Meanwhile, Ryan tried to avoid looking at the floor as he hobbled along. It was no use; even if he looked away, he could still feel the thickness of the blood beneath his shoes. And even when he and his sister cleared the room and moved into the hall, he could still smell that sick, metallic aroma.
"Ann… Those men back there…"
It was only natural that Ryan would be repulsed by the carnage. Taking a life did not come easily, and if Ann could've helped it, she wouldn't have dared cross that line. But she had made her choice, and with that came consequences. Her bloodstained boots clacked to a halt as she turned to her brother.
"Ryan, what would you have done?" she asked. "Imagine I was in that chair. Tied, beaten, bloody… Maybe they could have done more. Maybe something much worse. Would you have let that go unpunished?"
Ryan answered with a glum nod as his adam's apple bobbed. Ann squeezed his side and urged him on, having no doubts that he understood. Amok took the opportunity to speak with Ann, all the while Ryan was oblivious to their internal dialogue. The aberration, her voice usually cold and cruel, spoke softly at that moment.
"Well done, Ann."
"I thought you didn't want me to save Ryan," Ann muttered in reply.
"I never said that. I meant to say that if it came between him and your friend…" A sigh swept through Ann's senses as Amok searched for the right words to say. "Well, it doesn't matter anymore. I suppose I was wrong about him."
"He's stronger than you realize."
"So I've heard. Good call, by the way. I may be with you, but it isn't like I can materialize and fight by your side. Not yet, anyway. Having someone you can trust to assist your friend while you clear a path… Now that's sound judgment."
Ann hummed in thought, perplexed by Amok's sentiment. Had she more time she would have liked to investigate, but alas, she let the matter rest. With Ryan in tow, all Ann needed was Ayane. She hoped that she was alright, yet holding Ryan's battered body against her own, Ann couldn't shake the insidious seed of doubt in her mind. If the Consortium touched a single hair on her head, well… Ann didn't want to think of what could happen.
"Just… hang on, Ayane. I'm coming."
