Chapter 1: Searching for Answers
Bathed in red light. A male voice. A female crying out in pain. A huge explosion. All of them brief audio snippets that came to him with imagery too quick and disjointed to follow. And then, suddenly, darkness. Vile slowly sat up in the pod he had been using to regenerate. His hand came to rest on the side of his head as the strange dream's last images lingered for a moment longer before vanishing entirely.
'That dream again...' He bent his legs at the knee so that he could rise up out of the pod. A slight hop was all he needed to be clear of the container, though even that minute motion drew a strained groan from the Reploid. The fugitive was of medium height for a Reploid, and built for resilience and strength, not finesse. His purple and white armor was still cracked, dented and damaged from his latest defeat. Tears in the black undershirt that covered synthetic flesh and non-essential parts of his body, exposed circuitry and dirt. His cannon – the Front Runner – was barely attached to his right shoulder, with the readout on the inside of his helmet still displaying that it worked at barely fifty percent efficiency. The damage to the mechanical humanoid's body even extended to his jet boots, which had refused to draw any power from his internal reserves for weeks by that point. The once-proud renegade was in a bad shape. But, he was alive.
His latest defeat had been predictable to all but the former Maverick Hunter himself. He had grown careless. Ever since his defeat on the Moon decades prior, within Sigma's final inner sanctum, he had been on the run. A criminal like Vile would forever find himself at the very top of the 10 most wanted Mavericks list. However, the Hunters had enough on their plates, making him far less of a priority. The mess the Jakob Incident had left behind was still causing issues for public relations between humanity and Reploids. Many humans believed that New Generation Reploids were simply being used as a scapegoat, and that the problem ran far deeper. What happened on Giga City a few months ago wasn't doing them any favors either. It had consistently allowed the renegade to slip under the radar; to go unnoticed. But also to become complacent. He had walked right into an ambush he would have otherwise seen coming from a mile away.
Ever since the pressure of the man-hunt for fugitives such as himself had eased up a little, Vile had become a mercenary to put proverbial food on the table. Given the amount of experience he now had in that line of work, he should have realized how suspicious that latest job offer had looked. Everything about it had been off. Communication, terminology, reward, how it was tailor made to tickle him in just the right way to get his interest. And still he'd taken it. When he'd arrived at the target area, he'd already sprung the trap. Several Hunter units had come out of the woodworks, led by X, Zero and other veterans. Against those odds, even Vile was doomed. And yet, he'd still made it out alive, albeit barely. With tensions running high, the Hunters were no longer playing around. They were going to take him in, alive -or- dead.
The renegade felt raw anger swell up again, simulated emotions he very quickly took out on the nearest metal wall panel. The surface dented from the impact, with white paint flaking and being torn off even more than it already had. It didn't really help. Even fighting hadn't helped his frustrations much. But he wasn't down for the count yet. It seemed he really would forever be a thorn in the sides of the Maverick Hunters. He always seemed to survive anything his life threw at him, with or without the help of some crazy scientist to rebuild his broken body. That battle had occurred three months ago, surely the Hunters believed him inactive from the damage by now? No. X and Zero would only believe it once they saw his body for themselves.
He looked at the sole object in the room other than the pod: a small mirror. His reflection emphasized the large cracks across his visor and parts of his helmet. He would need to get those fixed as soon as possible as well. Despite how urgently his body required a multitude of repairs, he did not have the funds to pay for the cost in resources and expertise to get that done. With Hunter activity having increased, and with X and Zero likely insisting that they continue to try and chase down the 'wounded animal' that was Vile, he could no longer show his face in more populated hubs like Central City. Not only did that limit any tickets that could pay for the maintenance he needed, it also shrank the pool of engineers capable of repairing him in the first place.
The situation wasn't much better outside of populated areas, though. The string of uprisings and Maverick outbreaks, especially among Hunters themselves, still hadn't done enough damage to ruin the public perception of the organization. To many politicians, this was beyond frustrating, as they could only stand by and watch the influence of the Maverick Hunters slowly grow to what it had once been. People like X and Zero were heroes, famous by name and reputation, there was no changing that now. Demand for Hunters to fix the problems of citizens from the common man in the street, to big-time corporate executives, was on the rise. That inevitably had an impact on Vile's line of work as a hired gun. Sure, illegal activities would have helped retain the demand for mercenaries, but that was precisely the kind of activity Hunters were once again cracking down on hard.
It was a time of relative peace, at least since the Eurasia Incident had caused one conflict after another. There was enough security for people to focus on trying to stabilize the planet and restore civilization as it was before the colony had fallen. At the time, the planet was still on a slow descent, but it could be slowed down. There was wiggle room, enough to bring hope. The Jakob Elevator had been a complete disaster, so it wasn't as if the Moon was being regarded as a viable option anymore. Humanity and Reploids were stuck on Earth, so the planet's climate and environment was what they were going to fix.
No money. Barely enough energy to sustain himself. And lingering, extensive damage all over. It was a bad situation. To make matters worse, Vile's already fragile mind did not seem to be immune to the never-ending string of bad luck. Almost every night since the ambush, he'd been plagued by dreams, visions from the past, nightmares, whatever one wanted to call them. They always presented the same scene of a rambling scientist, vague images of blood and pods, with himself inside one of them. At first, the renegade had believed them to be a side-effect of the head trauma he'd suffered, compounded by several iterations of full body repairs. But the more times he was subjected to them, the more he became convinced he was dealing with a very old and – until recently – very buried memory. Could it be an hallucination? Yet another symptom of the damage to his electronic brain he had had all of his life? He had to be certain.
'I've got no money and I'm losing my mind. What better time to go delve deeper into my past, right?' Vile reiterated the decision he had made a couple days prior. He had never known where he came from, who created him and why. He'd always known how to fight and he was obviously good at that. He even had this deep-seated feeling that combat was his only purpose. But why? In his current state, it was not going to be easy, but he had made up his mind. He had nothing else to do. Perhaps his research into the matter would allow him to find something that would get him the funds he needed to put himself back in perfect, working order.
He opened the only functioning door in the dump of a room he had chosen as shelter with the tap of a single finger onto a flickering control panel. As he walked out onto a hallway on the upper floor of an apartment building, the entire structure creaked and almost shuddered for the briefest of moments. His latest hideout had been far from glamorous. Vile had been keeping a low profile in the run-down, ruinous West City. The once-sprawling metropolis had been close enough to the point of impact of the Eurasia colony to be almost entirely devastated by the shockwave and fallout. Still, high-rise and broad-based buildings, underground parking lots, bunkers and other secure construction had quickly turned the remains of the city into the perfect refuge for criminals. Only since the newfound stability had a proper reconstruction effort begun. Innocent civilians who had been surviving in harsh conditions had been gathered up from across the ruined city, and relocated to a select number of sectors. It allowed law enforcement and Maverick Hunters to set up a perimeter and much more easily provide them with the necessary security to rebuild their lives.
Especially given his unpolished appearance, Vile looked like he belonged outside of said secure sectors. He still appeared more than dangerous enough to discourage any of the scum roaming the abandoned parts of the city from interacting with him in any way. The renegade walked through the debris-filled corridors of what used to be a far more homely and welcoming business. On his way down to the lobby, he passed numerous empty rooms, most of which were either lacking a ceiling, a floor, a back wall, or any combination thereof. The new, unofficial proprietor of the building had managed to scrounge up a few semi-working pods to regenerate Reploids seeking shelter. Since he was one of the few in the entire city who had been able to get his hands on some – and keep them – he demanded the most outrageous of prices for their use.
Once the former Hunter reached the ground floor, he proceeded towards the entrance, though he did spot something from the corner of his eye. He reached for a small credit chip left out on the front desk. With the flick of a finger, it was nonchalantly tossed up in the air, before being caught and tucked away into a storage slot on Vile's belted waist.
"You should've known I don't like being ripped off," the comment was for his own benefit alone, as a quick glance across the counter revealed the destroyed body of the owner. He wasn't going to be pestering him for over-priced recharging overnight anymore. Vile didn't fear retribution for murder, after all, humans and Reploids that weren't considered innocent civilians had been left to their fate out there by the authorities and Hunters. They were cozy behind the walls of the sealed-off sectors. There was no law to abide by in the hellhole outside.
As he walked out onto the streets, Vile looked up at the morning sky. One would think the rays of the sun would brighten up the sad state of the city a little. Instead, it only made the place look more mournful, decrepit and repulsive than it had by night. Ruinous buildings and makeshift hovels littered the streets, having become the only sign that anyone even still lived in West city. Some parts of the metropolis were completely uninhabitable due to sky highways having crumbled; their support columns shattered by the shockwave of the colony's crash. That very same force of impact had ravaged the streets, homes, vehicles and people. The dead had long since been removed, but the observant would still be able to make out how people had been running for their lives, hoping to find somewhere, anywhere safe to hide.
The devastation had been so complete, that no reclamation effort had been successfully sponsored in all the years since. Who in their day and age would be able to foot the bill required to clean up that mess? With infrastructure non-existent, everything from heavy machinery down to the most simple of tools would need to be transported. And all of that, using the shattered streets leading to the metropolis.
Vile couldn't help but sigh. Not at the senseless death that had been the result of Sigma's folly. No. He couldn't care less about any of that, not while he selfishly focused on his own personal problems alone. The sigh was a result of once again being reminded of how low he had sunk. Killing apartment proprietors for ripping people off with sub-par regeneration pods, and then stealing from the dead bastard as well. He didn't doubt that if this kept up, he'd run into trouble sooner or later. And in his current condition, any amount of trouble would likely be the end of him.
His focus quickly shifted from his deplorable situation to his goal at hand. His investigations into the visions he was experiencing had come up empty-handed. But, that was to be expected. Instead of giving up, however, he had delved deeper into the historical archives available to the public. Specifying his search for events resembling what he had seen, and cross-referencing that with Maverick Hunters, had seemed like a good bet. One public report in a newspaper from early 21XX had spoken of an incident in Central City. A gigantic explosion had blown an entire city block sky high. It had happened around the same time Vile entered service as a Maverick Hunter. Additionally, the renegade had no recollection of anything significant happening prior to his enlistment. It was a long shot, but he found he could not ignore the possible connection. For all he knew, he had been some kind of Reploid gone haywire and deciding to take down the block for fun. Stories of Zero having been crazed before being recruited by Sigma were well-known among older generations of hunters, so it was hardly impossible for a loose cannon like Vile.
Unfortunately, Vile had been unable to visit the site personally. Further inquiries had allowed him to track down a few reports from the salvage crew that had worked there that day. Those same reports had not been made public and had instead been stored in a small archive installation in West City. He would need a lot of luck, but if the facility had survived the Eurasia Incident there was a chance he could get his hands on those reports. Some more investigation made Vile realize that Lady Luck enjoyed toying with him. The facility still stood, though inside one of the cordoned-off sectors...
Among the civilians beyond those walls, few would truly recognize him as Vile in his current state. Given that they also hadn't had regular access to the internet or other sources of international news, odds were high they had no idea he was a wanted criminal. Compared to their daily issues, a Maverick blowing up a few people kilometers away just wouldn't seem like a priority anyway. However, the possibility remained that he would run into a familiar face, and the Hunters standing guard would most definitely be able to pick him out of a crowd. He had to find another way in, and he knew just where to begin.
Vile set off towards sector A-7, where the facility was located. He had managed to make arrangements with one of the local guards to meet him at the side entrance of the sector. Dangling false promises of a captured Vile in exchange for a share of the bounty had been enough to bring out a little greed in the young and inexperienced officer. The scent of money and the fame that came with finally bringing Vile to justice would prove to be too alluring a possibility to ignore. The rookie had agreed...
Vile checked his internal clock and assumed the guard was going to be punctual. This was money and a possible promotion on the line, after all. He had chosen his victim well, as the Reploid would most certainly be carrying the necessary key cards to gain entry. He'd been able to sneak away from his post unopposed, so that only reinforced that possibility further. Vile found himself running through the streets of West City, aiming to make up for some lost time. He was being watched. Not by anyone in particular, but he was carrying weapons and looked as though he had a few healthy parts left to salvage. On top of that, he was alone. Those were all the trademarks of easy and profitable pickings that the thieves, thugs and criminals roaming the ghostly city unsupervised looked for in a target.
The civilian sectors had been closed off from the rest of the city with barricades, walls and guard posts. No one got in or out without the proper clearance or exceptional permission. Despite this inhibition of freedom, the people who lived in those sectors gladly gave up the ability to roam for the security it offered them. Being able to sleep easy at night was something they thought they had lost forever, after all. The richest of the refugees, as well as philanthropists, government agencies and several local relief headquarters had all been set up in sector A-7. As such, it had been worth the expenditure to encircle the totality of that large domain with walls. Security was tight.
The meeting place was an old square a few houses south of the east entrance of Vile's target sector. The renegade had found a decent vantage point in one of the few standing buildings around the square. At regular intervals along the wall, turrets had been installed. Each of those would activate at the sounding of the alarm to support the patrols walking by them 24/7. Checking the time again, Vile was pleased to see the guard was indeed punctual and – as expected – alone.
"Hello?" the young man called out while walking towards the center of the square. He gripped his arm-mounted buster a little more tightly. He was nervous and knew that against a serious threat, his weapon wasn't going to do him that much good. Why he would risk coming out there alone in the first place if that were the case, even for fame and promotion, was a mystery to Vile.
"I'm here. On time. Just as we agreed?!" the Reploid continued, jumping at shadows and looking around nervously until he finally reached the waterless fountain he was supposed to wait at. He'd look up briefly at the stone-carved mermaid that at one point had poured water into the basin below through a jar on her shoulder. Not anymore though, as the work of art hadn't functioned since the colony came down.
Naturally, Vile had no time for pleasantries. He wasn't in the condition for a proper fight, nor did he want to give the guard the chance to call in reinforcements. So, he decided to act immediately, while the guard was distracted by his immediate surroundings. The meeting point was also nicely out of view of anyone on the walls. Vile placed one boot on a window frame of the building he'd been looking out from. With a hard enough push, he jumped out of it, descending down to the floor below. He landed with a loud thump on the cobblestone behind the guard. Before the young Reploid even had the time to turn and face him, the fight was already over.
Vile grabbed hold of the back of his opponent's head, slamming him forehead-first into the side of the fountain. The impact shattered part of the ambushed guard's helmet, severely damaging him in the process. Fortunately for him, though, Vile did not feel like spilling more blood that day, so he decided to spare the unconscious Reploid. A quick search of the disabled body quickly revealed the necessary cards to pass through the side-entrance. Passwords weren't required as normally there were guards on post to keep an eye on anyone passing through. Given his deceived friend had slipped out, though, might mean there was a discrepancy that Vile could take advantage of.
"Congratulations. You just gave a wanted criminal the keys to your castle. Next time, maybe consider using your head," the taunt was unnecessary, but no less amusing to the renegade, who proceeded to tap the unconscious Reploid's helmet with knuckles a few times to hammer the point home. He rose to his feet and quickly left the square behind.
The short walk to the side entrance took longer than Vile thought it would. A patrol had just been sent out and he hoped they wouldn't find the missing guard too soon. Two guards atop the wall were taking their jobs seriously as well, and kept a watchful eye out for anything suspicious lurking the streets. Regardless, Vile managed to reach the vulnerable entrance unnoticed. The massive debris in this part of the city had provided him with ample cover, even from higher ground. He slipped the key card through the door's security slot. A positive bleep from the door and a green light prompted a tiny chuckle of success from Vile. The barrier slowly slid open and allowed the renegade entry into Sector A-7.
'Now all that's left is to find the facility, get my data and get out of this place in one piece. Should be a breeze...' Vile failed to be amused by his own mind's penchant for sarcasm, as the risks really were tremendous in his sorry state. He stored the key card on his belt and continued through, ready to stick to the alleyways to reach his goal.