Disclaimer: The three kitsuroids belong to me. So does anyone else I have mentioned belonging to me before. Apart from that, no one is mine.
Quick note about the kitsuroids. I did not name them after anything (I came up with the names outta nowhere), but while checking the web to make sure that the names did not accidentally mean something offensive I spotted some interesting coincidences.
Kirukori – kirikiri is some sort of scripting engine, and it seems that kirukori is a somewhat (not really) popular name on things like maple story. Too bad Kirukori is too energetic to bother reading.
Morukori – Morukori is the name of a mountain, called the "mountain spotted like a giraffe" because of the various types of rock littered on it's slopes. Sort of appropriate, since Morukori has a proud/generally unmoving and cold personality and mountains are usually unmoving and cold.
Harukori – Halcali is the most I found. It's a two-person female hip-hop group in Japan, I think. Funny, Harukori is the only female of the kitsuroids...
Also note; the original idea for the reason why electricity is weak to ice was taken from Rioni Riishu's story, Less Than Human: Harpuia's story. I only elaborated it, the same way I did with the explanation of pseudoroids and how they work.
The gritty floor scratched against Omega's cheek as he stirred from his rest. Blinking, the God of Destruction oriented himself, observing and recalling his position in his hangar as the remnants of his nightly maintenance left his mind. He began flexing his fingers to prepare them for whatever was to come that day. The blonde reploid got up on his hands and knees, arching his back to work out several kinks along it. Then he sat down and straightened out one arm, twisted his hips and arms in various streches to loosen synthetic muscle fibers. While he moved onto stretching his legs, Omega pondered his course of action for the day.
Maybe he should do some more shopping? There were still a few things he needed to gather for his hangar. Shoul he fetch a bucket for cleaning things with, namely himself? Or maybe some more clothes and a padlock to keep intruders out. The one that had come with the hangar was barely holding itself together, much less the door. If he had enough wealth to spread around, perhaps even some proper beding? Or should he complete a mission to procure more funds? But hadn't that one pseudoroid said she'd be over today? Omega wasn't too sure he wanted to let the iguana reploid loose in his hangar, at least not without supervision. However, she'd never specified when she would come...
"Pffffffpht..." Omega exhaled in annoyance. He scratched an itch on his back as he weighed his options, finally deciding to stay and wait for the mutos reploid. Shopping wasn't all that important, after all. Still, with no way of knowing when she'd arrive, waiting was bound to be a bit boring.
Omega smirked to himself. Wow, it'd only been a few days since he'd gotten out of the strange prison of green crystal, but his patience had already shortened considerably. If it kept going the way it was, he'd be even more rash and impulsive as when he'd gotten imprisoned! Oh well, time to fix that. Omega had just the thing.
The king of killing stood up, mentally noting the amount of space he had in the hangar. Since his ship was a fighter model, designed for speed and maneuverability, it was a lot smaller than some of the other ships that the Hunters seemed to have. Because of this, there was plenty of room. Omega took a pose, breathing out slowly. He soothed his nerves, beginning one of the meditation routines he'd developed to pass the time when he was sealed. Omega took his sword, moving it with excruciating slowness in a variety of attack patterns. Offensive and defensive techniques were combined into one as the God of Destruction deadened his mind of all but the concentration he used to swing his sword.
"Tuh!"
Omega cleaved through an imaginary foe with as much strength he could muster. This signaled a change from his smooth, slow strikes to fast and hard ones. He exhaled sharply every time, tensing his body and mind for the blow. Then, after a while, he switched back. The process went on for some time, the exercise both calming for his mind and excellent practice for his body, until a familiar sound rung out.
Bang! Clang! Bang!
"Oi! You'd better be in there!"
There was no mistaking that voice or the raucous banging on the door. Iggy had arrived. Unfortunately, she'd also startled Omega, who attacked the moment she opened the door.
"Geeze, if you're not in h-!" Iggy stopped the moment she realized that a lit saber was millimeters away from her face. She stared with a slightly open mouth and eyes as wide as saucers. "Uhh... would you mind taking that away from my face, please?"
Omega panted, then realized what he was doing. He huffed as he withdrew the weapon, "Tch. You shouldn't barge in on people like that. Wait for me to open the door next time."
"Duly noted," she gulped.
"So. What do you want here?" Omega growled, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm here to do some maintenance on your ship, remember?" Iggy crossed her arms. This made the large tool kit she was holding even more evident. Omega let her meander past him as she entered the hanger, dodging her large tail as she gazed at the magnificent ship. Really, no pseudoroid had the right to be so clumsy with their own limbs.
He huffed impatiently, "Right. Whatever."
The red reploid stood to the side as the lizard gently caressed one side of the ship. Then, with miniscule movements, she opened some sort of hidden hatch. Iggy delved her large claws with surprising accuracy into the small compartment behind the hatch, dragging out some wires and a small panel.
"Ooh, looks like I came here just in time! Your-"
"Save the tech-talk, mutos, it's annoying as hell," Omega bared some of his teeth in annoyance.
Iggy looked over at him, vexed, "What? So you can drive it, but you haven't got a clue how to repair it?"
"Pretty much."
"Men," she sighed as she rolled her eyes. Judging by her quick dismissal, this wasn't the first time she'd dealt with this sort of situation. Either that, or she was giving him a bit of breathing room after the whole sword-in-her-snout incident. Omega didn't particularly care either way.
The devil reploid ignored the jibe and sat down, "Well, tell me when you're done."
Iggy looked over at him again, this time with confusion, "Huh? Aren't you going to do anything today except stare at me?"
"Not really. I was planning on going to get some supplies or even do a mission, but I'd rather make sure that you're not going to try anything in my hangar," he answered bluntly.
Iggy stopped working, a scowl on her face, "Try anything? Why the hell would I do that? The only thing you have in here that'd be worth "trying anything" with is this ship. And as a mechanic, I know a work of art when I see one, no way I'd be buggering about with it!" She patted the side of the ship's "neck" as if the draconian thing was alive. Then her mood changed, "Wait, supplies? You needed some?"
"Yeah. A bucket and some other stuff. Why'd you ask?" Omega questioned.
Iggy smirked as best as she could with her large jaw, "Well, from the looks of this ship, you might be needing some other stuff too. But since you're not that great with "tech-talk", I'm guessing you wouldn't be so good with the parts, either. So I'll tell you what; give me a list of the things you need, as well as the money needed to get them and the parts. That way I can go get 'em for ya! Least I could do for you after all."
"And what would I be doing in the meantime?" Omega frowned.
Iggy stopped for a second to think, then snapped her claws together, "Oh right! Scimitar actually asked me on my way down here if I could try and convince you to do another mission. Maybe you could do that in the meantime! It would work out great , just in case you don't have enough money for the parts either."
"I'll see. Will this be enough?" Omega showed her everything in his wallet.
She shook he head, "Unfortunately, no, that's gonna be a bit short. And that's not counting whatever else you might need."
Omega grimaced, "Well, I guess I'm doing the mission then," he grouched. "What kind of mission is it, anyways? It'd better be worth it."
"It's a practice mission, I believe. We've just had some new pseudoroids join our team, but they're so new that they still need training."
"Which basically means that they're newly built and were created by someone with little expertise in mutos reploids or weaponry."
Iggy gave him a surprised glance, apparently astonished by his expertise in the manner, "Whoa, how'd you know that?"
"I used to... work for someone that was an expert on reploid technologies and weaponry. Technically, I'm actually a mutos reploid myself," Omega explained. The way he said 'work' withsuch hesitance and hatred made Iggy suspicious, but she let the matter drop.
"Ahah, I thought you were a custom model! But what makes you say that you're technically a mutos? I thought mutos were animal reploids?"
"A common misconception, actually. Mutos reploids are reploids implemented with superior design, primarily for combat, as well as built in weapons systems. They used to be made to protect civilians from any sort of threat, but as soon as they were first made people found other ways to make them useful. Such as working as generators, water purification specialists, or by creating a reason for the civilians to need to be protected," Omega smirked. Iggy caught the meaning of his last statement and nodded. Omega continued thoughtfully, "Although, I guess people are starting to call them pseudoroids nowadays? I haven't a clue why."
"You don't?" Iggy asked. It was Omega's turn to nod. Iggy decided to explain this to Omega, "Well, it's usually common knowledge among anyone who works with mechanics or reploid technologies, but I guess not. Well, it's common knowledge now thanks to the whole Albert incident, but I digress. Pseudoroids are basically mutos reploids with the DNA of a biometal. Biometals are such good bases for any sort of combat reploid that pretty much every mutos reploid made today is made with at least some part of a biometal DNA sequence. Of course, Legion is the only one with access to biometals aside from the Guardians, so only they can give out the DNA needed to make pseudoroid, at least that's how it's supposed to work. Raiders occasionally get their hands on pseudoroids, but that's usually only when they join the raiders of their own free will, or the raiders get their hands on a dead one with an intact DNA sequence and make their own."
"But how come every mutos reploid I've come across has called itself something like a "kangaroid" or a pseudoroid? Aren't there any normal mutos reploids without a biometal DNA?" Omega pondered aloud.
"Nope, not any legal ones anyways. All mutos reploids have Biometal DNA, often called Fire, Ice, Electric or Normal DNA for short. Or, Elemental DNA in general. And the whole "kangaroid" thing is just a species classification. They're put into different "species" depending on what type of animal or animal group they are based on. Most of the animals are extinct, of course, but there's a bunch of books on what they used to look like."
"So basically, everyone is so stupid when it comes to building mutos reploids that they have to use a biometal DNA as a base and an animal as a design plan. Geeze, what happened to all the technology of the old days? Aren't there any competent reploid specialists left to build mutos reploids without Legion's help or the Elemental DNA?"
"Ahahahah! That's a good way of looking at it!" Iggy laughed. "Nope. There was a guy, that Albert nut, who was supposedly able to make pseudoroids without the Elemental DNAs, but I think he just used that Model A. I heard a rumor that he actually made the biometal, but I doubt it. Some idiot said that Albert started with A, so Albert made the biometal from his own DNA, but I think that was just some nutjob rambling. The biometals were supposed to be based off ancient heroes, right? No way he could've made one after himself, right? Besides, other people say the Guardians made them, and considering they're their own public defense group, it makes sense. But what ancient heroes were they modelled after? Or were they heroes at all?"
Iggy's words began to wander as she tried to guess what could and could not be true about the biometals. This began to annoy Omega, so he helped put her musings to rest, "Yes, thay are based on some ancient heroes."
Iggy crossed her arm as she stared at Omega, silently demanding an answer. He responded by coming up with a lie about something he'd heard, "Back where I came from there used to be a story about a reckless little reploid called Axl. The kid could transform temporarily into enemies he'd defeated, so he worked for the crime-fighting group of his time. Of course, the story ends with him just up and disappearing into thin air. Rumour is that the twit probably chickened out and ran when he found out about a strong maverick who'd appeared shortly after his disappearance. Dodged a bullet, so to speak." Omega made no effort to mention that the maverick had been him.
Iggy looked dissatisfied, as if she'd been wanting more, but Omega gave her a glance that showed his utter disinterest in continuing the story. She huffed, "Well, that was a nice discussion, but we'd better get back to the matter at hand. Since you said yes to the mission, I'll just phone Scimitar here and get some transportation arranged for you."
Omega nodded, then let her be. She took out a communicator from her toolbox, delicately pressing the buttons as she looked down at the screen. Scimitar's face appeared, and they began a discussion which Omega completely ignored.
After a while, Iggy looked back over at Omega, "Hey. Last time you said you'd gotten followed. You think that might happen again today?"
Omega pondered the question, then answered, "Maybe. I think it's best to assume that it will, just in case."
"Alright," Iggy returned to her conversation. It wasn't long until it was finished and she put her communicator away.
"So. How'd it go?" Omega grunted.
"They'll teleport both of us outta the hanger and onto the main base, then drop me off at a shopping center while you're doing the mission. After that, they'll send a fighter to come pick me up, then drop me off on the ship, and that same fighter will drop you off at the outskirts of Hunter's Camp."
"By the sounds of it, their base is an airship. Why don't they just teleport me back when I'm done?"
Iggy tutted, "Because we don't have our own teleporter circuit, which would be nigh on impossible to obtain, so we have to hack the Legion one to do any teleporting. And since you can really only do this once or twice a day without Legion noticing, doing it too much would raise suspicion. I mean, big businesses pay to teleport goods all the time that way, but that's only one way. Doing it more than once within civilian areas, rather than just using the public transporters, would tip them off that someone was using the system for teleporting people illegally. Since only really rich or important people are allowed to do that, they'd know right away someone was hacking them. And then they'd do an investigation, people would be arrested, etcetera, etcetera. And before you ask, yes, we could use the transportation circuits in Hunter's Camp, but you'd need a Hunter's License to use it and I doubt you have one. Not to mention you'd still have to get to the transporter you wanted to use registered on your license," she explained.
"That system seems pointlessly confusing," Omega scorned. "But you're right, I don't have a license, so I guess I'll have to settle for the fighter."
"Yup. Now come over here and grab my shoulder or tail, the teleportation sequence is about to start." She beckoned Omega over, so he complied. A short moment later, Omega felt the familiar sensation of being turned into data and transported to a new location.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Greens of many different shades glowed dully across the landscape. Sentient orbs of colour floated through the skies and above the ground and buildings of an olive hued city. Some of these lights seemed to take on humanoid shapes, while others drifted around aimlessly. Some were grouped together, apparently talking with each other, while a few levitated in one place as if contemplating something or working on another thing. Many of the buildings they were floating beside looked like something a person might find in a downtown area. One of the buildings dotting the street was squat and heavily armored, but for no apparent reason other than appearance. Inside of it, the shape of a seemingly human light was sat at a computer, staring at the screen.
Sighing, the reploid watched as teleporter signals scrolled down the screen. Of all the jobs in cyberspace, this was one of the most boring. The newly recruited soul had decided to join the Cyberspace Police Force to get rid of some of the boredom of dwelling in the afterlife, but was so far having little luck. In fact, joining the force had done pretty much the opposite.
But, still, what had he expected? It's not like Cyberspace really needed much of a police force anyways. Sure, there was rounding up the occasional maverick soul that had entered cyberspace, and then watching over them in prison. But lately, Cyberspace was so peaceful that it was boring! Even the raider and maverick souls settled down soon after entering. And that's why the recruit had joined the police force, to stop the monotony of the afterlife. But still...
What idiot had decided that monitoring teleportation signals was important! It wasn't even for Cyberspace either. The recruit had been assigned to watch the teleporter circuit's patterns for the real world. Not Cyberspace. The real world. Reality as everyone called it.
Bleh. Whatever.
The only interesting thing that'd ever happened was when the recruit thought he'd seen a teleport signal disappear from the data bank the other day. And considering how minor that was, it wasn't saying much for how interesting his job was.
A new cyber elf trotted into the room. The recruit took minimal notice of it, since he already knew who it was.
"Hey Jackson."
The reptilian cyber-elf glanced around at the recruit, "Oh, hey." the cyber-elf was in his second stage form. He was fairly tall and lanky for an elf, and also had a humanoid shape. A long tail swayed from side to side as the reptilian elf walked over to the recruit's desk. With his dexterous hands, he leap-frogged his way onto the desk. He tapped at the back of the computer, "How's it going?"
"As boring as ever," grouched the recruit. He opened up a drawer, picking out a piece of paper and a pen, writing down some numbers. "I take it you've come for the latest report?"
"Yup. We need the number of teleportations between 12 am and..." the cyber elf looked at a clock on the wall, "about one minute from now."
The recruit looked at his computer, noticing the number and writing it down, "Sure, there's about one thousand-"
The recruit stared. Again, he had seen a number on the screen, a bunch of data about a who, when, where from to where to just disappear off the screen. He paused all functions on the computer.
The cyber elf gave him an odd look, "What's wrong?"
The recruit ignore him. The stopped number on the computer said that there had been 1122 teleportations. The recruit glared at the computer, then scanned down the list, manually counting the teleports. His instincts screamed that something was up. After all, he had seen data disappear twice. He wasn't going to ignore the second time!
"Hello? Earth to recruit, what's wrong?" Jackson scowled, ticked-off about being ignored.
Thanking the heavens for making him a reploid, the recruit finished his counting. He knew he hadn't missed or over-counted any of the numbers, he was too good for that. But, for once, this knowledge filled him with dread.
"J... Jackson..."
"Yes?"
The open-mouthed recruit motioned for the elf to come and look at the screen. Grunting in annoyance, the cyber elf did as he was bid. The recruit pointed at the number of teleportations, "That says 1122, right?"
"Yes... so? Just put that down on the report," the elf scowled.
"No... come here, count the teleportations with me."
The elf again did as he was bid. It took them only a minute to count the amount of teleportation numbers.
"How many did you count?" The reploid asked his superior.
Jackson grimaced, his irritation replaced by worry, "There were 1121. We know this computer doesn't lie. It won't take misinformation, none at all! And yet, here we are. It's contradicting itself. There were supposed to be 1122 teleportations, but we only counted 1121."
"So then, let me get this straight," The recruit replied, "this computer, a cyberspace computer that cannot possibly make any mistakes, has lost the data for one of the teleportations."
"Lies! Most likely it accidentally counted the same teleportation twice," the elf sneered, attempting to reassure itself. It failed.
"No no, the data disappeared. I saw it do that, this is the second time. The first time I thought I was just seeing things."
Jackson swirled around, yelling at the recruit with a sudden bout of paranoia, "Lies! All lies! This has to just be something you cooked up to get attention! There hasn't been anything like this in centuries, and I don't know how you heard about it, but so help me if you're lying!"
The recruit yelped, jumping, "No honestly, it happened! Here, I'll bring up the file and show you!" The poor recruit was badly startled. Jackson was never this brash before!
The recruit brought up the file of the night he'd last seen the phenomenon. He and the elf counted the number of teleportations, then compared it to the number the computer said had happened.
It was one short.
The recruit looked at Jackson, who was staring at the screen. Jackson, the fearless little elf who'd helped Zero in the first part of the resistance's battle against Neo Arcadia. Jackson, one of the strongest of the police force's fighters. Jackson the invincible, so named because of his special ability. Jackson, whose face was a mixture of disbelief, terror, and awe.
"It... It's back. The Netherworld..."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Alright, that's all? Got it!"
Iggy looked up from the list. Omega had written down several items that he felt would go a long way in furnishing his hangarand making it a more practical living space. A bucket, a pillow, some clothes (he'd checked his sizes and written them down on the list), a comb for his hair, a first-aid kit for reploids, and a box or two to keep hispossessions in. The iguana reploid nodded sagely as she took in the requested supplies.
"So, just one question. About the clothes, any colours you'd prefer? Would rather notput youin bright pink or something by accident!" she joked.
Omega thought about it for a few seconds, then replied, "Notreally. Black and dark red are good colours onme, but I think I'd be best off with the type of clothes that the other Hunters wear. You know what I mean, right?"
"Stuff that makes you fit in more? I got it. That would pretty much be a jacket and one of those white utility belts... then again, there are a lot of hunters that wear whatever they want, so I can splurge a little if I've got any money left..." Iggy disappeared towards the hangar of the raider's ship, muttering to herself about what types of clothes she could get and what would look good. Omega was fairly confused about how a pseudoroid could be so interested in garments, but he chalked it up to the female personality and moved on to more important business.
As Omega surveyed his surroundings, he realized that this ship was different from the one he'd been on before. Panels of assorted sizes were hidden across the hall, no doubt concealing defensive weaponry. Militaristic raiders walked up and down the halls, tending to various duties aboard the ship. Thick doors lined the halls. Omega deduced that he was on the command floor, since most of those passing him seemed to be navigators or decorated fighters. Another look down the other end of the hall showed several double-doors and medical staff talking among themselves, apparently relaxed. The general lack of injured soldiers heading to their portion of the ship showed why.
A commotion began to Omega's right. One of the raiders was pointing in his direction, whispering to his friend. Another stared, seemingly surprised with Omega's wardrobe. Murmurs of excitement, wonder and tension started to fill the hall as more and more of the raiders noticed Omega's presence. One raider, who was walking on the other side of the large corridor, waved, "Hey there!"
Omega was stunned at the raider's audacity. The ancient reploid managed to keep his mouth shut as he gawked, but the rest of his perplexed face gave away his surprise. He slowly turned his head, watching the raider as he went away and high-fived a comrade further down the hall. Did these raiders not realize just who he was? They seemed to know him (no doubt rumors had spread about his earlier feats), but no one seemed to be afraid of him. Well, at least not the one. Some of the others were shuffling away, trying to keep out of his iresome sight. Omega had seen this sort of behavior before, long ago. Back when he and Zero were still one. Some had admired them, seeking admiration in return. Others feared them, had seen their power and were afraid of their efficient brutality.
In short? They looked at him as a part of their crew. A comrade...
Omega stiffened, glaring at those around him. There was no way he would be a comrade of theirs! No way he would be a friend! He was not one of them, why did they look at him as such!? Rage began to swell in his heart. His whole body tensed. Omega's fighting instincts were beginning to stir, they saw him as one of them, did they? They saw him as a friend, did they?! Time to show them just how friendly he could be!
Omega grimaced, showing his silent challenge. His body was tight and his fists were clenched, roaring with body language for anyone to dare approace him. His chest was puffed out threateningly, his fiststrembling lightly. Some of the raiders noticed this instantly, backing off from his intimidating posture. Others noticed their friends and followed suit. The jovial atmosphere rapidly deserted the area around Omega as he defended his independence from the raiders. Body language is a larger part of communication than spoken words, and that was evident here. The whispers of the raiders darkened, many of them realizing that the new one in the group was not an ally, but an intruder. A noise distracted Omega; he looked to it as it approached.
Scimitar's footsteps echoed down the hall. He lazily scanned around at the disquieted raiders huddled by the sides of the hall. He frowned cheekily at his subordinates, "Well? Don't you all have things to do?"
The effect was instantaneous. Like an alpha wolf appearing calmly among his distressed pack, the raiders relaxed, going back to their chores. A few mutters still traveled here and there among their ranks, but for the most part, things were back to normal. Even Omega calmed his tense body, but only enough to show that he meant Scimitar no harm.
"So? I heard that you had another mission for me today," Omega said shortly.
The raider leader nodded, turning and walking back down the hall. Omega took the cue and followed. Scimitar began to talk, "Yes, I believe I can assume that Iggy filled you in on the basics. Our new mutos reploids are basic combat models, they haven't much in the way of elemental capabilities or long range weapons. However, they have very strong bodies and quick reflexes. Because of this, we want to train them in martial arts and stealth. Now, I have a friend who's good with stealth and has been working with them on that, but I thought that you'd be the best candidate to teach them combat techniques. You seem, after all, fairly experienced in the matter!"
"You have no idea," Omega replied agreeably, "but still, these are pseudaroids we're talking about, correct? They're bound to have or be better at a different fighting style than me since they've most likely got a Normal DNA, am I right?"
"For the most part, yes," Scimitar responded. He opened a door for Omega and let him pass through first, "But surprisingly, we've managed to make these reploids without an Elemental DNA. So they're likely to be able to adapt to any sort of fighting style you teach them."
"They were made by you?" Omega asked curiously.
"Well, not me. Alfredo and Iggy actually worked on these ones, using a little help from some of the data we excavated from that one dig site. You remember, the one from your first mission for us? It was a most valuable find, even if most of the data was corrupted in some way or another."
Omega nodded thoughtfully, wondering what sort of things they'd discovered. His musings were cut short when they arrived at a large door, much thicker than the others. Omega looked up at it as Scimitar elaborated for him.
"Ah, here we are. Welcome to the training rooms."
Omega looked over at Scimitar as he opened the door. A wide hallway met his gaze at the other side of the door, more thick doors located further along the corridor. Windows showed through to metal-walled rooms where raiders were training with many different types of weapons. Some were practicing with their weapons, others were working on combat with other raiders, and a few of the tougher ones were attacking battered mechaniloids who were programmed to hurt, not kill. Omega admired how well-equipped the raider's ship was for battle practice, but noticed that his observations had left him far behind Scimitar, who was waiting at the end of the hall.
"They're in this room here," he said, pointing into a window to his side. "Now, the supplies closet at the end of this hall has some equipment that you might find useful for training, but apart from that, just make sure they're alive and relatively unharmed at the end of the day, hmm? Each of them does have a different elemental capability, but being different, they can't learn quite the same way as the others. Just teach them as much as you can and don't worry about specifics elements. Well, I'm off."
Scimitar walked off to do other business, leaving Omega to trot to the window and look in. There were three similarly designed reploids inside. Each of his soon-to-be pupils had black on their bellies, necks, arms and legs, much the same way as Omega's skin. Covering their lean frames, basic but thick armor protected their upper and lower legs, forearms, shoulders and chests. Simple black markings decorated this armor, accenting the black lines around their eyes. They had fox-like faces, elegantly curved snouts and ears pointing in whatever direction something interesting was in. They had two-jointed legs, ending with a foot with three large claws. One of the most noticeable things, however, was their three heavy, powerful-looking tails. Not three tails total, but three tails each.
Omega instantly recognized what type of mutos they would be. Kitsune reploids, or likely kitsuroids.
Well, not a bad start for being a new reploidol scientist's first creations. They had the appearance of basic, yet well built fighter models. At least he wouldn't have to worry about breaking them too easily, Omega mused as he entered the room.
Of the three differently coloured kisturoids, the tan one was the first to approach him. The other two held back, the brownish-red one seemingly shy and the whitish one apparently uninterested in socializing.
"Are you the one who's gonna train us?"the tan one asked with the curiosity of a young boy.
Omega looked down at him, nodding, "Yes, I'll be your tutor today. I think we'll start with introductions, since it'll be counterproductive if we struggle with them later. Unfortunately, I don't give out my name, so you'll have to call me something else for now."
"Fair enough," shot the white one, moving forward. He had a cold, proud voice.
The fire brick coloured one spoke up with a fairly young and feminine voice, "I heard that sensei was a word for a type of teacher. Can we call you sensei? I think sensei sounds nice for you!" she also moved up, but kept behind her brother.
Omega nodded, showing his acceptance of the name "sensei". It seemed fitting for this situation, after all. As well as getting the problem of his name over, he managed to discover the gender of his pupils. But still, he needed their names.
"Alright then, you can call me sensei. Now, what should I call you? I've heard that you each have an elemental affinity, so if you could tell me that as well-"
The tan one took the initiative before Omega could say anything more, "I'm the sand dancer kitsune, Kirukori! I can use electricity!"
"I'm the snow dancer kitsune, Morukori," huffed the white one, "and as you might've guessed, I can use some ice."
"And I'm Harukori, the token female of the group and the ash dancer kitsune! I maybe can use some fire," said the last one, giggling at some sort of joke.
Omega looked over the three fox reploids as he took in the information, then without warning he hit Kirukori roughly over the head, sending him to the floor.
"Hey, what was that for?" whined the tan kitsune.
"For interrupting me. It's not polite to interrupt someone when they're talking to you, especially if they're about to teach you about fighting!" Omega snarled. Then he turned on the sister, "And you! Don't start acting shy or anything pathetic like that! Did someone tell you it's cute or something equally as ridiculous? It's a sign of fear, and I'm not about to train anyone who won't use what I've taught them properly! Don't act like such a coward!"
Harukori straightened out immediately, stepping out from behind her brother as her personality suddenly changed, "Yes sir sensei! I won't act afraid any more!"
Morukori grunted disdainfully, swishing his white tails impudently, "Oh? I suppose it's my turn now, is it?"
Omega glared at the egotistical fox, "You bet your prissy little ears it is. I can see you've got an ego, and while there's nothing wrong with being confident, that won't work on me! I don't care if that's how you treat everyone else, if you start doing that with me I'll kick your high-and-mighty ass and all three tails attached right off the ship. Do you hear me!"
Morukori's ego was deflated right then and there. He nodded meekly as Omega towered over him, holding all three tails low to the ground between his legs. However, when Omega let him free of his gaze, the kitsuroid stood tall. It wasn't the cocky gesture of an untrained youth, but the proud stance of someone who'd just learned something valuable and fully intended to use it.
Kirukori got off the floor, dusting himself up as he moved back towards his kin. All three of them were attentively waiting upon Omega's next action, their ears straight up in the air. Omega hit a realization. These pseudoroids weren't just new. No doubt about it, thought Omega, they could not have been more than a day old. Each one of them was so rapt and willing to absorb information that the fact was undeniable. The last time he'd seen something like this was when he'd come back to Weil and a new mutos reploid freshly reborn off of Weil's operating table. Weil had introduced them right off the bat to make sure that neither of them attacked each other. Of course, Omega had been aggressive towards it, uncaring for it's feelings, and had thought little about going on an insane rant on how much fun he'd had slaughtering that last group of nincompoops Weil had ordered him to kill.
Deathtanz Mantisk had turned out aggressive, uncaring for others, slightly insane, and loved to kill.
Needless to say Weil hadn't let him near new Mutos ever again.
So thanks to that experience, Omega knew that these reploids before him now were extremely impressionable. He inwardly scorned Scimitar for allowing this sort of thing to happen. Mutos reploids needed time to form a personality of their own, or they would likely conform to whatever was happening to them immediately after "birth". Fortunately, it seemed these ones had at least gotten a couple of hours of life, but who knew for sure? He'd make sure to tell off the raider captain later, the last thing he wanted was a bunch of pseudoroids he'd trained becoming God-of-Destruction wannabees. That was his job alone, and he'd be damned if he let anyone else trying to fill the position live! Of course, that would undoubtedly piss off Scimitar, and there was no way he wanted to lose his best employer.
For now, Omega resigned himself to be as neutral as he could with the kitsuroids. He still had to train them, after all. No doubt they would later grow to be magnificent fighters because of being introduced to fighting so quickly.
"Alright you three, listen up."
They jerked to attention, awaiting their orders.
"We're going to start today with basic striking attacks. These are the best for delivering the most power directly, but they often leave you open at the sides. Jabs and kicks are best for these types of attacks. I don't know quite how you were built, but I doubt your tails will have enough raw power to use this technique properly. However, I'd like you to try anyways. Now, do as I do, and do it with your tails when I tell you to."
They practiced the jabs and kicks. Omega showed themvarious styles and speeds ofattacking, the kitsuroids following his lead. Their tails turned out to be more proficient at physical attacks than expected. In fact, the trio turned out to be rather good at melee attacking. The group moved onto different types of attacks. They practiced hooks, feints, blocks, dodges and a multitude of kicks. Once they were done with those (which didn't take long because of the kitsuroids' great capacity to learn), Omega started to teach them about combos and sweeping attacks.
That's when they really shined.
With their thin, strong bodies and multiple tails, they were able to put together different blows into a whirlwind of attacks, never letting up. Omega sparred with Morukori as the other two dueled each other. This was their first test.
Omega barely missed being hit with a quick chop, jumping back as a kick was aimed at his gut. Three white tails swept underneath, forcing him to jump or else land on his back. The other foot came near Omega's head when he landed. Morukori jumped back while Omega regained his footing.
"Not bad," Omega grunted. Morukori merely grunted in return, then resumed his attack. Omega dodged whatever blows he could, blocking the others. As the relentless barrage of attacks continued on, Omega found himself surprised at just how quickly his pupils had learned to fight. And as a tail slammed against his arm, he was forced to admit that the tails were a lot more powerful than he'd originally thought. Their placement seemed rather awkward and ungainly, but the case was quite the opposite. In fact, the tails could not have been in a better spot. By simply rotating their whole bodies while attacking, the kitsuroids added both momentum to their blows as well as being able to attack from high and low within a short period of time.
Well, it looks like there's not much more to teach them about close range, Omega thought. Unfortunately, as elegant and effective the kitsuroids' fighting style was, at long range or against large, armored opponents, it was pretty useless.
Omega was able to spare a glance at the Kirukori and Harukori. Kirukori was doing some splendid dodges and blocks while his sister spun upside-down on her hands, hitting her brother with all three tails and multiple kicks within a minuscule amount of time.
Wait a minute. He hadn't taught them that.
Omega was brought back to his own fight as Morukori delivered a jab. Omega slid to the side, aiming a hook at the side of the fox's face. Thefox countered by ducking, sweeping the back of his hand along the floor. Completely caught off guard, dust landed in the red reploid's eyes. Omega jumped back, only just managing to block a sweeping attack from Morukori's arm. But then, three solid blows connected to the side of Omega's head.
Omega hit the ground hard, bouncing slightly as his back connected.
"Alright, everyone stop!" Omega barked.
Harukori and Kirukori paused their fight, still in their last positions. Morukori looked worried.
"I'm sorry sensei, did I do something wrong?"
Omega got up off the ground, shaking his head, "No, on the contrary, you did something pretty good. But I there's still something I need to tell you about that." Omega rubbed the grit out of his eyes, then looked at his audience, who were lined up neatly.
"Alright then, did either of you see what Morukori did just now?" Omega asked.
The tan and brick-red foxes shook their heads. Omega continued, "I see. What Morukori did was throw dust into my eyes. Now, in battle, it's generally considered a dirty tactic-"
"Morukori!"
"Why'd you go and do that?"
"What did I tell you about interrupting!" Omega hissed, clouting the two kitsunes over their heads. They tended to their new bruises quietly as Omega resumed his speech.
"Like I was saying, it's generally considered a dirty trick. As such, you should avoid using it, at least while sparring. But in a real battle, it's better to be dirty than dead. Never hold back in a battle unless you need to keep your full power a secret from an enemy. Conversely, don't use more power than you need to, or you may find yourself spentwhen a more challenging opponent shows up. Now, Harukori, I saw you attacking in a strange manner. Using your hands instead of your feet to hit your brother."
"Was that bad too?" she asked meekly.
Omega gave her another hit over the head, "And what have I said about acting shy?"
"Don't?"
"There you go," Omega nodded grudgingly. "No, it was not bad. In fact, I'm impressed despite myself. That was an example of improvisation. In a fight, that basically means that a tactic you were using wasn't working, so you came up with another tactic out of nowhere to use instead. It's a very resourceful thing to do, since a sudden change in tactics can catch an opponent off guard."
"Tell me about it," complained Kirukori, who was rubbing at a trio of scratches lined down his cheek.
"However, if an opponent can sense that you're about to change a tactic, they may be able to counter it, and changing your attack pattern will backfire if your opponent can take advantage of the time your guard is down while switching. All in all, it can be tricky, but well worth it if it works." Omega concluded.
The three kitsunes nodded in agreement, soaking up the information like a sponge. Omega cracked his knuckles, then changed the tone of his voice slightly.
"Okay, well, we're done with close range combat. You all did well.." Omega drew his gun. It made a slight clicking sound as he held it up in the air for his students to see, "Unfortunately, not all fights are at close range. Nor are they all against opponents the same size as you. This is called a gun, in case you haven't heard of these yet. It specializes in long rang combat, and can hold its own in mid range. At close range, it is hard to aim. There are many other weapons like this, and many other weapons that are different from or the opposite of this. Always try and find out what type of attacks or weapons your opponent uses, and in doing so, the best style of combat to deal with them. That brings us to our next style of combat, long range."
Omega aimed to gun at the wall opposite him, firing a semi-charge shot. It left a blackened starburst pattern on the wall. The kitsunes oohed, impressed by the range of the weapon.
"Can we do that, sensei?" Harukori asked, her reddish tails wiggling excitedly.
"Why are you asking me? I'm not the one that built you," Omega snorted. He crossed his arms, glaring at his pupils, "Since I have no idea what sort of long range capabilities you have, I think it would be best if we focused on your elemental ones. Now, I surmise that you're not called the sand, ash and snow dancers for nothing. Sand dancer Kirukori, you said you can use electricity, am I right?"
"Right!" came the cheerful response.
"Right. Now, show me that electricity."
"Uhh..." Kirukori mumbled. Omega rolled his eyes, that raider would definitely get a telling off later. Obviously, he had not told any of the kitsuroids how to use their elements.
"Geeze, if you can't figure it out then I'm done training you. Improvise! Do a systems check, try a few more attacks, figure out how your element works!" Omega snapped. Mutos that couldn't even figure outtheir own system were useless on a battlefield!
Kirukori's ears slipped back, then righted themselves again. He focused, closing his eyes and tightening his muscles. He growled as he strained himself, doing his best to figure out his own body. Then-
Zap!
"Yeowch!"
Morukori looked coldly at his sister, who was sucking at her aching hand. Kirukori was looking proud of himself, waving around his tails energetically. Which was only to be expected, as electricity was crackling along each of them.
Harukori whined, "Ow! That hurt! Why did that hurt so much?"
"I barely felt anything, quit overreacting," Morukori frowned.
"I see. Your tails seem to be where your elemental abilities lie," Omega noted. "Morukori, don't be so hard on your sister. It's only natural the static off of Kirukori's tail hurt her more than you; she is a fire type. You are an ice type."
"What difference does that make?" Morukori asked, genuinely curious.
To answer, Omega made a 'hold off' gesture and left the room. Puzzled, the foxes waited. He was back shortly, holding two large metal training dummies in each arm. He set them down in the room, spacing them far apart. The nearest one he turned to.
"Because ice type reploids are resistant to electricity," Omega finally answered.
"Why is that?" Harukori asked, again swishing her tails.
"I'm glad you asked. There is a general rule with elemental reploids; ice types are weak to fire, fire types are weak to electricity, and electric types are weak to ice. On the other hand, ice types are resistant to electricity, electric types are resistant to fire, and fire types are resistant to ice. This is because of how elemental reploids are built. Now, a demonstration."
Omega turned to the dummy. He set his weapon to electric, then slashed at it. Sparks appeared all over it. "See? Electricity is weak to-"
He swung his sword again, but this time the element was different.
"Ice!" The dummy froze instantly. He changed the element of his sword yet again.
"And ice is weak to Fire!"
Slice!
The dummy was now burning, chunks of ice falling and splattering into puddles as they hit the ground. He turned to the kitsuroids, "The reason for this, as I said, is the way elemental reploids are constructed. Electric types are highly resistant to fire because of the fuel used to power them. Because of the high amount of electricity, the fuel in electric reploids has a higher combustion temperature, as well as being less conductive. This is to prevent the electricity from overheating the reploid's circuitry and starting a fire, as well as shock its own body with its power. Unfortunately, the special fuel used to do this also has a higher freezing temperature. Therefore, it's prone to forming ice crystals when there's a sudden drop in temperature, such as when hit by an ice attack. While the crystals usually melt within a few seconds, the damage caused can be akin to having razor blades put into your blood."
"Ice types, one the other hand, have a much more durable fuel. It's got a much lower freezing temperature, since ice types need to be cool enough, or their attacks won't work. It's also not very conductive, so electric attacks barely do anything. However, it's like the opposite of electric fuel. It's resistant to electricity, but extremely weak to fire. Fire attacks cause the fuel to overheat and even burn, damaging the ice reploid's delicate inner systems. Since the systems need to be kept cool, the heat burns out a lot of their functions, ultimately incinerating the reploid from the inside out unless the outside is burnt to a crisp first."
"Finally, fire types. Their fuel is highly conductive in contrast to the other two. Their systems are well developed to work at extremely high temperatures, so they'll never overheat. Ice attacks will barely faze a fire type because of how hot they are. Even if an ice attack manages to partially freeze part of the fuel, it's so conductive that heat from the other areas will instantly thaw the ice. The downside of this is that electricity is also conducted easily. Many of the systems that are well suited to heat will short-circuit, and any areas that do need to be cooled will become heavily damaged."
"This is something you need to remember. As elemental pseudoroids, knowing which enemies you can safely fight and which ones you are naturally weak to is the difference between life and death. So is knowing what type of combat your enemy is best at. If it's absolutely unavoidable, knowing both of these things will give you the chance you need to take advantage of their weaknesses and survive."
The three kitsunes stared. They seemed confused.
"What? Life and death? Is fighting really that important?" Kirukori asked.
Omega scowled, "Did you think this was some sort of game? Did you think my training you to battle was all for sport? It's not! Fighting and killing are one and the same, it's got nothing to do with sport. If you can't kill, then you'll be killed. Of course it's important! The way of this world is decided by who wins and who loses in a fight. Winners write history, and losers are forgotten!"
"But... do you have to kill those you fight? It seems cruel to just kill everyone outright," Harukori pondered.
"No, you do not have to kill those you fight. Many people who think themselves good and right do not kill," Omega scorned, his voice dripping with malice, "but those types of people are all fools. The only reason you shouldn't kill someone is if they're useful to you if kept alive. Other than that, you must kill. If you do not, than you are leaving an enemy alive who will only come back to fight you later. And if they come back later, no doubt they will be stronger, know your weaknesses, and defeat you. As far as I'm concerned, and as far as you should be concerned, a dead enemy is no longer an enemy. And if they're no longer an enemy, they're no longer a problem."
"Ruthless, but still a very logical observation," Morukori stated. The ice-type fox had a very cold nature, true to his element. The other two, however, seemed slightly reluctant to accept this latest batch of information. Still, they swallowed it down in the end.
"Anyways," Omega said loudly. The foxes all snapped to attention. Omega's voice had changed its tone, "We were going to work at long range, weren't we?"
"Yes sensei!" Harukori grinned, glad that her favorite (and only) teacher's serious streak was over.
"Time to train!"
"Alright then, do whatever you want," he directed.
All three foxes glanced over at Omega with baffled looks, "Wait, what?"
"Aren't you going to tell us what to do?"
Omega moved to the side of the room, leaning against the wall, "Sure." He shuffled slightly, getting more comfortable.
"Improvise."
Still confused, the kitsunes looked at each other slightly annoyed, but did as they were told. Each of their tails began to shimmer with their respective elements. At first the kitsunes stuck to what they knew, practicing close range attacks with their tails. They flung their limbs out a bit moret han usual, but that was it. The trio were still trying to figure out their own basics before they could move on to new techniques. However, the icy Morukori did not practice with quite as much wild abandon as the others. A glare of concentration rode on his face as he practiced his moves slower than the others, putting more emphasis on swinging his tails than attacking with them.
Then, a happy accident occurred. Morukori's tails were beginning to ice over at the tips, so he swung them viciously to clear off the ice. Without warning, great shards shot swiftly from the tips and flew across the room, impaling one of the dummies. The other foxes stared.
"Seems that you've figured out long range," Omega smirked.
Morukori grinned, immediately starting a barrage of distanced ice attacks, aiming at the dummy. Harukori and Kirukori spared a quick glance at each other, then followed suit.
Delighted cries echoed around the room as the foxes discovered more and more ways of attacking with their wonderful tails. They were so preoccupied with their new abilities that they didn't notice Alfredo tapping at the window, nor did they notice Omega slowly slip from the room.
"It looks like they're doing well. How did the training go?" asked the scientist.
Omega replied, "Pretty well. I taught them what they needed to know about close range attacks and a bit about improvising, after that they pretty much taught themselves. You can only teach a pseudoroid so much before they have to teach themselves. Don't be worried though, they're bright enough to get it. I do want to have a word with whoever's in charge of making them."
"Oh? That would be me. What did you want to talk about?" Alfredo asked, curious.
"Really? Well, I should have known. You reek of the type of guy who'd want to do this sort of thing."
"Hah hah, that's true. It's something I've been looking forward to doing for a while," Alfredo smiled.
Omega turned on him, making him regret his relaxed mood on the subject. "You dumbass! I don't care how much you looked forward to it, you've almost blown it already! Have you no idea how the mind of a pseudoroid works? Did you do any research about the psychological affects of the first few days!"
Alfredo shook his head vigorously, keeping his mouth tightly shut. He knew he'd screwed up, but didn't know why.
"Lunkheaded lunatic! How can you call yourself a creator of mutos reploids if you don't even know how they work! They're not like a weapon that you can make or tweak at your whim! They have brains, unlike you, and there are serious side-effects if they get introduced to things too soon! The next time you decide to make one, at least give it three days to adjust to life, not one! And if they're going to be an offensive pseudaroid, the fourth day is best for combat training, or the seventh day max," he finished, finally calming down.
Alfredo was stone still, not quite sure how to react after Omega's outburst. Omega sighed heavily, "Well, that's it for my rant. I didn't mean to offend you, just tell you what needs to be done with pseudoroids."
Alfredo's shock faded as he realized that that was probably the closest thing to an apology that Omega would be willing to give. He waved off Omega's words, "No no, I understand, I was too rash with the mutos reploids that I made. I got too excited and didn't think of the effects. My apologies if my silence worried you, I did not mean to do that."
"Yeah, well, no harm done. It'sbeen a learning experience for you too I suppose. Anyways, what're you doing down here?"
"Scimitar wanted me to check on how you were doing. It's evening and we were wondering if you were still alive down here," he joked, dispelling the apprehension from earlier.
"Ah, that late already?" Omega walked to a window, gazing out at the beautiful red sunset. Of course he didn't notice the sunset, just how late it was, "Hmm. I should probably go home fairly soon. Don't worry about the pseudaooids, they'll be able to train themselves from now on. Just give them a few pointers about their anatomy and weapons systems, they'll be fine."
"Thank you," Alfredo nodded, "now, Iggy wanted me to tell you that she's finished repairing your ship and filling up the fuel tanks. The items that you requested are all waiting in a box inside your hangar. Whenever you feel like it, the ship that will take you back to Hunter's camp is waiting in the docking bay."
"Thank you. I think I'll go ahead and reduce the time the pilot's waiting time." Omega walked out of the training area, heading towards the general area of the hangars. Signs would lead him to the right way. Alfredo watched the kitsuroids fight for a little while longer, then left as well.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Scimitar glanced behind him as the door to the command center opened. He turned back to the main monitor, watching as a ship sailed away. He tapped the keys on his keyboard as the first mate delivered his report.
"It seems that he trained the new pseudoroids well. They're still practicing, but I've sent someone to tell them that they can stop and rest any time they want. The mercenary has probably left the ship already."
"Understood." The raider leader nodded to acknowledge the report before looking down at his personal video screen.
On the screen, the three fox reploids were practicing their new skills. Then Scimitar hit another button and a scroll option appeared. Using his finger on the touch screen, he rewound the recording until he was at where he wanted to be.
"I see that they've already collected the battle data for the mutos," Alfredo noted, watching a series of numbers and graphs at the side of the video. Then he did a double take when he realized that there was another set of combat data at the bottom side of the screen, "Hey, wait. Scimitar? What are those?" he asked, pointing.
Scimitar grinned secretively, answering, "Oh, those? You didn't really think that I'd pay as much money as I did to have pseudoroids trained when I could have one of my personnel do it for free?"
"But it's highly doubtful that they would have done it as well."
"True. And from now on, they kisturoids will be the ones most able to train new pseudoroids, thanks to this. But do you really want to know why I did it?" Scimitar asked, slowing down the rewinding of the video.
"Yes, that would be appreciated," Alfredo took up a better position to look at the monitor in front of Scimitar. The raider leader smiled, finally stopping the video. He pressed "play", letting the video resume showing its contents. He'd stopped it at the time just before Morukori and Omega had begun to spar, and now their flurried blows were once again flying at each other.
"To get more data on him."
Everything suddenly fell into place. Alfredo looked over at Scimitar, then stared back at the screen. The look in his captain's eye held all the answers the scientist needed. Scimitar's gaze was held to the figure of the mercenary dueling, that flawless blows and reflexes of the silvery-haired reploid.
Alfreo had seen this look before, in the eyes of other raiders newly acquainted with a weapon. A greed for the power that they'd tasted, a lust for complete control of that power, and more of it. It was clear to him what Scimitar wanted.
Raiders are notorious for many things, but there is one thing that stands above all others. Doing whatever it took to get what they wanted...
No matter the cost.