Megaman X: Elysium Rising
Mission 1: Maverick group extermination
Chapter 1: Marx
By Genoscythe
Disclaimer- If you know me, then you know I like having fun with disclaimers. However, I'm only gonna say this once. I do not own Megaman X, the Maverick Hunters, Zero, Axl, Alia, Signas or anyone that Capcom claims ownership to.
Mission 1: Maverick group extermination
Maverick Leader: Vulcan Stinger
Main Objective: Retire or scatter any Mavericks found on site
Secondary Objective: Safeguard the Maverick contact
Commence Operation
Blazing lights swept across the dirty ground, illuminating the cluster of frightened reploids with pinpoint accuracy. Marx was among them, but rather than cowering in terror, he slipped under the heads of the various reploids and tried to back out of the group. However, the Mavericks around him were not stricken for long, and the virus in their systems began to act up. Many pulled out rifles and beam swords, and the rest warmed up their built-in weaponry. Their leader, Vulcan Stinger, roared and rose defiantly in the spotlight. His followers mimicked him without hesitation.
As a result, the Mavericks made it very difficult for Marx to escape their tight circle without getting caught. It wasn't like he was there against his will, but five hundred credits weren't worth tangling with Maverick Hunters. He was told this would be a low-risk smuggling operation, and he only wanted a chance to indirectly hurt the Maverick Hunters - as much as he hated them, he still didn't want to kill any. Sighing in resignation, he raised his head again with an automatic pistol in his hand. They're not gonna feel the same way about you, Marx, he told himself.
Two helicopters swirled dust into the air, and Marx saw that reploids began dropping from open doors on the vehicles' sides. The Mavericks around him were already firing busters and external ordnance at the helicopters and the Hunters dropping from them. Marx held himself back, however. If there's no crime, there's no punishment, he thought to himself. Just in case they capture me, I'd better play nice if I wanna get off easy.
"Spread out! Find cover in the hangars!" Vulcan Stinger shouted over the tumult of gunfire from both sides of the engagement. " We don't stand a chance grouped together like this!" The front layer of Mavericks were indeed getting torn apart; a reploid without optical telemetry could aim at the dense crowd of Mavericks. Slowly, the Mavericks in the back rows began to split off and head to one of the two boat hangars on either side of the gathering.
For a while, Marx debated whether to move or not. If he moved, the Maverick Hunters would pick him off like they were the Mavericks running for cover. However, if he stayed where he was behind Vulcan Stinger and the rest, he would soon run out of Mavericks to take the bullets for him. Of course, the solution came to him soon after this revelation. If I can't go to the side or stay where I am, then there's only one direction left to go!
Almost silently, Marx turned around, his back to the fighting. On the other side of the small boat storage area near the wharf, a durawire fence separated the hangars from the curving street heading into the wharf. Without glancing back, the reploid ran for the fence at full speed. If not for the Maverick Hunters occupying Vulcan Stinger, he would have been torn to shreds by the violent Maverick leader.
But then, Marx thought, If not for the Maverick Hunters, I wouldn't need to run in the first place. The convenient Maverick shield was blocking most, if not all of the shots fired by the Maverick Hunter force, so he had a clear shot at the fence. His metal-encased feet pounded the ground, and the sheer weight of his mechanical body lent him speed via momentum. He didn't have rocket propellant installed into his angular boot armor, but his legs were modified to put his running speed above average.
Almost there... The fence was flying at him, and he turned his feet to the side to kill his speed. The metal encasing his feet dug into the ground and chewed gravel into the air, and he felt his lower body slow down faster than his upper. Thus, he had to hold his arm out to catch onto the fence and keep himself from falling over. Without wasting any time, as he was sure some of the Maverick Hunters had seen him by now, his right arm shot up and grabbed the top edge of the fence.
With strength that was far beyond human, he pulled, and lifted the rest of his heavy body into the air well above his arm's length. With a twist, he shifted himself over the fence and landed heavily on his knees. His breath slightly quickened, he ran his hand along his back to search for any hits the Maverick Hunters had scored. There was one energy bullet mark on his smooth upper back armor, but considering that he had been completely vulnerable for several seconds, he considered himself lucky.
I guess Vulcan and his boys are taking better care of themselves than I thought, Marx thought to himself. He lifted himself to his feet, quickly looking around for any more Maverick Hunters. It was all clear, so he took a step forward. Instantly, an armored fist wrapped around the mercenary's neck and pulled him against it's owner. Astonishment that someone could have snuck up on him so quietly and stealthily quickly subsided, and he reverted to his cocky, rebellious self.
"Stop," a voice commanded from behind him. Marx squirmed in retaliation.
"You're making a huge mistake, tough guy. You're a Maverick Hunter, right?" There was no response. "Well, I'm no Maverick, so go do your job somewhere else, alright?"
"Not a Mav, huh? What does that make you, a tourist? You're sightseeing with the wrong crowd, buddy."
"I didn't hurt anyone," Marx pointed out hopefully. The Hunter only tightened his grip.
"Good, then I'll make sure you never will." Marx heard the hiss of an igniting energy blade.
"Hey, cut it out! I swear I'm not a Maverick!" A hint of panic bled through into the reploid mercenary's voice; much more of it than he liked.
"Really? Prove it," the hunter replied coolly.
"I've got nothing but my word," Marx said, matching the hunter's tone.
"Sorry, your word's not gonna cut it," the hunter answered without skipping a beat. He felt the hot energy blade slice downward, so Marx did the only thing that came to mind. He brought his automatic pistol up and fired into the arm that held his neck in place. The hunter growled in pain, and his grip slackened enough so that Marx could jump to the side and only receive a glancing blow on his broad shoulder armor.
He spun around and jumped backward, keeping his eyes on the wounded hunter. The hunter was taller than Marx by a few mere centimeters, but the sight of him demanded a kind of humble submission upon looking at him. His eyes ruthlessly glowed with anger, and the long blonde hair flowing out the back of his crested helmet cast a shadow over his blood red armor. The streetlight overlooking the road they were next to was almost directly behind him, stretching his shadow all the way to Marx's feet. He knew, with utmost certainty, that if he had been staring this reploid face to face, he would have never dared to contradict him, much less attack him.
The Maverick Hunter was holding his left arm up to his chest, where artificial blood seeped out of the small bullet holes in the crimson reploid's arm plating. The Hunter stared daggers at Marx, but made no move to proceed. Possibilities and ideas filled his head, but when staring at the hateful creature before him, all points became moot. He knew he could not kill the Hunter, so the best he could do was to run away. This also seemed pointless, as he saw jet propulsion units on the Hunter's feet. Jet propulsion units that he was somewhat lacking in.
Finally, fear overrode any sense of tactics, and he spun about and ran full tilt. His mind screamed at him, telling him what a coward he was. He didn't really care. He knew he was completely outclassed by that Maverick Hunter, so he hoped that his opponent didn't feel like running tonight. Any moment, he expected a hot energy blade to lance down and cut him in two. He expected, but it never came. He dared to look back, however. The reploid still stood under the street lamp, unmoving. He was facing the other direction, though. Marx could tell by his inability to read the features on the hunter's body.
The reploid mercenary didn't know why the hunter stopped, but he took it as a token of good fortune.
"You're slacking off, Zero. In the old days, an ordinary Mav couldn't touch you," the small, black reploid reprimanded the much larger form.
"Let me remind you, Axl, that you weren't even around during the 'old days'. And anyway, this guy isn't just an ordinary Maverick. In fact, I don't really think he's a Mav at all," The larger hunter said while crossing his arms gingerly to avoid serious pain from the injured one.
"Not a Mav, huh? So what, are you just gonna let him get off with it like that?" Axl chided. Zero shook his head.
"I was wondering if you wanted to take this one. I've had my share of combat tonight, and you only just got here," the crimson reploid told him.
"If you say so, Zero. If I were you, I'd want to take him out myself."
"Try doing this as long as I have. Takes some of the fun out of it," Zero said. "Remember, this guy's probably not a Mav, so don't retire him. Just grab him for me and see if he's telling the truth," Axl gave a dutiful nod, then seemingly vanished into the darkness beyond the light of the streetlamp. Zero turned his head toward the fighting in the hangars, which was winding down into a few sporadic flashes of plasma and flame. Suddenly, he heard a beep from the commlink inside his helmet.
"This is Zero," he said, tapping the receiver on the side of his head.
Zero, it's X. We've cleaned up the Mavericks here, but their leader escaped.
"The scorpion guy?"
Yeah, him. Some others may have gotten out too, but we can't be sure.
"I'm almost afraid to ask, but why were there so many Mavericks here? Does the informant know?"
I'm not sure. Sylph was really worried about being found out, so she didn't tell us more than she had to.
"No honor among thieves, eh?" Zero chuckled into the commlink.
Yeah. She's safe, by the way. I made sure all of the Hunters knew who to shoot and who not to shoot.
"Hmph. Alia's gonna be jealous."
Stop it Zero. It was our part of the bargain, and if we can't have our honor, then we're no better than thieves, as you pointed out.
"Don't sweat it, X. I was joking."
I know, but I can't help but feel a little bit touchy on that point.
"Sure. Look, Axl's tracking down a straggler. I'm gonna wait for him here, but if you want to send some extra help, be my guest."
Aren't you supposed to be training him?
"Yeah. That's why I sent him in the first place."
If you've trained him as well as Sigma trained you, he won't need any backup.
"You can never be too careful."
Alright, well, I'll meet up with you two later. X, out. Zero tapped the side of his helmet again and the link went dead. His eyes wandered off into the darkness beyond the lone street light, wondering how well his apprentice was doing.
Before Zero received his call from X, Marx knew something was wrong. He had slowed down considerably since the red devil had not taken any interest in him, but now he quickened his pace. He couldn't place his fear, but somehow he knew something was ready to pounce on him. Now, he could hear faint footsteps behind him. Without warning, he spun about, gun blazing. Nothing was there. At least, nothing on the ground.
His nagging subconscious directed Marx to look up, and he saw an ebony-clad reploid hovering just above his previous field of vision. In that quick glimpse, the mercenary could tell the reploid was built to be a young boy. That was all he could tell before the Maverick Hunter descended upon him, knowing his cover was blown. Marx jumped backwards, arching his back and placing his hands on the neocrete sidewalk as if to do a backflip.
The black hunter ran forward, anticipating the move. However, instead of completing the backflip, he propelled himself forward with his heavy armored legs first. Caught completely off guard, the ebony reploid took the blow full in the chest and fell back onto the ground. Pushing off of the black reploid, Marx vaulted into the air, landing somewhere near where his backflip would have been competed.
With a mocking bow to the Maverick Hunter on the ground, the mercenary turned and ran once again. Thinking himself to be incredibly clever in evading two Maverick Hunters, Marx kept on running with a confidant stride. He did not expect to look back and find the same black hunter from before running along the wall of the building parallel to himself, picking up speed and decreasing the distance between the two of them.
Ducking his head down, Marx ran all the faster, relishing in the memories he had of being equipped with jet propulsion and anti-grav systems. But alas, he had traded that armor in for a more protective suit. Now, he realized how meager the protection his new armor really was. Especially since this hunter was equipped with anti-grav systems. There was virtually no place he could hide or run from something that could walk on walls.
It was not long before the black reploid finally did catch up to Marx. It leapt off the wall, killing the anti-grav systems and slamming the mercenary into the ground. Keeping one knee on Marx's back, he raised a hefty pistol in both hands up to his head. "Keep it cool, Mav," the reploid hissed at him. His voice was that of a petulant child.
"Since when did the Maverick Hunters allow kids to join up?" Marx grunted.
"I'll bet I'm older than you are," the Hunter said. " From the look of your armor, I'd say you're a new Replitech model."
"As a reploid, I measure age in experience. A reploid created yesterday and put on the battlefield immediately is less of a child than the oldest of the sheltered, pompous brats the humans keep out in the suburbs. And here I have exhibit A crushing my spine," Marx said. "Look at yourself, kid."
"You're lucky Zero doesn't think you're a Mav. You wouldn't be talking right now if he didn't tell me to bring you alive."
Marx gave a strained laugh. "You probably don't even know how to use that gun, let alone kill me with it." The Maverick Hunter ignored him, and cued his commlink. "Oh, I'm sorry, I meant to say retire me. That is the word you people use to dress up 'killing', isn't it?"
"This is Axl. I've got a hostile, and I need a pickup."
"Yeah, that's the word. You make it sound like those reploids you slaughtered all get a pension plan or something! A paid vacation sounds a lot better than a shot in the head, right? You all make me sick." His venomous diatribe was punctuated by a sharp crack of light, and a bullet hole sizzled in the ground inches from Marx's head.
"Keep it up, and you'll get that vacation whether you're a Mav or not," Axl growled. Marx was grateful for the fact that the young hunter could not read the surprised look on his face. This kid wasn't as green as he first thought. He heard Axl speak into the commlink again. "If you've got a problem with it, talk to Zero. He's the one who doesn't want me to retire this Mav." The ebony Maverick Hunter said the word 'retire' through gritted teeth, and it was obviously directed at the mercenary pressed against the sidewalk under his foot. Marx wriggled in futility, finding that Axl hadn't left him with an inch of breathing room. This time, the Hunters had gotten him. And with a little kid, no less...
End of chapter 1