The Leopard's Apprentice

By

Lady of the Shire

PROLOGUE

DISCLAIMER: MegaMan NT Warrior/Rockman EXE and all related entities are the property of Shogakukan, ShoPro, Viz Media, Ryo Takamisaki, and related partners.

"Transmission will begin within 240 seconds."

"Securing communication lines. Feedback will commence within 30 seconds."

"Verifying secure channel for transport. Final scan for malicious abnormalities within connection has begun."

"Begin start-up sequence from step 98 and continue until any critical errors arise."

"Sentry 183734 has undergone final critical-point inspection for any programming errors."

"Sentry 183734 is now being prepped for transmission. Downloading weapons inventory and responsive repair system."

"Transmission will commence within 198 seconds."

"Communication lines have been verified."

"Download will be completed within 15 seconds."

Panels within the control room were alive with the cadence of keystrokes. Flickering of status alarms signaled the onslaught of data that whizzed through multiple levels of intricate circuitry. The information was to be translated by the expert eyes of the countless operators, who scurried back and forth through the facility like a hive of livid hornets. The ambiance was no better. The incoherent gaggles of instructions were countered before they were fully issued….

"Step 150 of 300 has been completed."

"Final overview of destination coordinates has been completed."

"Code 274-B and 783-C are being rejected by the start-up sequence."

"Verify the transmission path again and restart the sequence at step 270."

A female operator looked up from her monitor screen to respond to the last order she had received. "Also, I have verified confirmation on the status of all Sentrys within the party, save for 136825." Her superior adjusted himself in his seat before summoning the data to his own monitor. "Still operational?" His subordinate gave a brisk nod in response. "However, tracking their position is proving to be more of a challenge than we had anticipated. There is a large amount of interference." The officer folded his arms and adjusted his glasses as he hovered closer to the screen. "That was one of the issues with the deployment—this region is unstable and apparently inhospitable. That is why we changed the plan." An operator next to the woman turned around to address the same man. "It is still hard to believe that this may have been an attempted hacking. Such a convoluted approach." Another personnel chimed in: "That is the issue, isn't it? It is the most inconspicuous point of access. Only someone with extensive knowledge of the military's intranet would be aware of such vulnerabilities."

Their superior mused over that statement for a moment.

Suddenly, another subordinate spoke up: "Lieutenant General Mensch, sir, with your permission I would like to establish a private connection with 183734."

The other three operators flinched.

The female personnel countered. "B-but, sir, the Sentry is in the midst of preparations! Besides, I doubt that there is anything additional information that we can provide that could even help!" cried the woman. "One-hundred and twenty seconds until transmission," added her colleague.

The officer nodded. "It's alright," he told the two. Then, he turned to the source of the request. "May I ask why?"

"I just want to confirm something," the young man said.

Stillness.

The deep breath before the plunge, so to speak. Despite the surrounding pandemonium, preparations were going smoothly. Bonding with each link and downloading all relevant information as a sponge absorbs water. So passive. That is what the program thought amidst the countless streams of data that were passing through him at that moment. Despite the serenity, maintaining "consciousness" proved to be rather challenging, otherwise succumb to an overload. Nonetheless, he concentrated hard….

"All right. This is the last step. I have nothing to worry about. I just need to follow the instructions that were given to me and complete my assignment. There is no need for me to be concerned of anything going wrong. After all, I am just a messenger…."

This was a low level task. Any one of the others could have been summoned instead. A quick stream of instructions, some small modifications, and he was ready to be thrown into the ocean. "Learn how to swim in the midst of fighting for your life." A great concept. So great that he wondered why someone else wasn't chosen for this type of work. He could think of a million other things he would rather be doing right now…aside from being presumably cannon fodder.

"Simple. 'Just find the party under the direction of 136825 and contact headquarters on their whereabouts.' Nothing more. That's right. Should take no more than a few—"

"Sentry 183734. A word with you," a voice said, interrupting the program's stream of thoughts.

The entity winced. "Y-yes!?"

"How are you feeling?"

"What?!" The program recovered quickly with: "Oh! I'm fine, I suppose. The diagnostic tests indicated that there weren't any major abnormalities detected within my—"

"That is not what I meant." Something about the statement left the program uneasy, despite the collected tone. "How are you feeling?"

The sentry paused. "I am…."

"It's alright. This is a private line."

He was confused. Why would this person establish a private line at a time like this? Were some secret instructions being revealed now? Did that mean that there was more to this mission than at first glance? Maybe he had been wrong. What if there had been a reason why he had been selected? But, what if he wasn't ready for such demands? "Maybe a more competent individual?! Does this mean that everything was a charade?!"

"Please do not take that the wrong way," added the voice. "I just didn't want to impede any of your other connections."

Oh.

"I know that you were told that this is a rather low-level assignment. Nonetheless, be sure to remain vigilant. Despite the number of safeguards installed in your programming, there is no guarantee that the viruses are any less dangerous. I wish there was more than I could tell you but all the data that was disclosed to you is our most current information."

Sentry 183734 nodded. "I…understand."

Suddenly, the being became irritated with itself. "This is ridiculous! Why am I so nervous?! If I continue to respond in such an incoherent manner, they really might just decide to send in someone else! Wait. But, that wouldn't be a bad thing, would it? No. I'm just as good as anyone else to do this!" As if to reassure himself, he examined his physical form: a humanoid structure, armored to the appropriate level of assigned combat conditions. Forest green plating wasn't aesthetically pleasing but such a notion was irrelevant in this case. The entity patted his chest plate and then noted the five appendages on each hand, dyed grey like remaining unarmored portions of his body. "Pretty generic design. Identical to the rest of the sentinel programs," he mused. Then, the Sentry flexed each of his lengthy fingers. "Everything appears to be in working order. No problems with visuals, audio, or mobility. Finally, he concentrated on his right hand. "I should be able to deploy my weapon instinctively." Sure enough, the desired function occurred swiftly. The program eyed the item, almost twice the length of its normal arm. The homing buster was designed to disperse an even larger number of consecutive rounds per second than that of older versions. "Should the event arise that the viruses do make an appearance, this should be able to deal with them."

"I was just informed that you have 30 seconds before transmission," the caller said.

Sentry 183734 nodded. "R-right."

"Remember, we just want to verify his status, nothing more. Make sure not to interfere with his team's mission."

"Roger," the program answered. "Geez. How am I supposed to find him? I wasn't even given a visual."

"If I may ask, how will I know the target when I see him?" the being asked.

The question elicited a chuckle. "You will know. He has a…unique appearance."

The Sentry shrugged. "Right."

"One more thing," the voice added with a steely tone. The program drew to attention. "Now what is it!?" However, he did not betray his growing irritancy. "Y-yes? What would that be, sir?"

The next statement was spoken gently. "I have a small request: Just make sure that he stays…in one piece."

The connection was terminated.

Or at least it appeared to have been.

Hard to tell with the other links that were severed simultaneously. Then, that sudden sensation of being distorted and dissolved into a million fragments.

The deep breath before the plunge, so to speak….

A barren landscape flaunted in grey, hushed yet tense. The sky was no different. Dreary and monochromatic. Minuscule flakes similar to that of snow drifted down. It was strange. The surroundings were very calm, regardless of the circumstances. As an outsider, first impressions weren't convincing. "Nonetheless, I still need to remain vigilant," the program told himself. The sentry walked slowly away from the transmission point, weapons fully deployed. He did his best to move with stealth, aside from the rhythmic crunch of each footfall through the layers of fallen snow-like particulates. Visual sensors were on full alert, scanning the landscape constantly.

He paused.

"I forgot to ask how long it would take for me to reach the group," the program muttered, already jaded. "That would have been a good thing to ask." Well, no use attempting to contact the operators until the end of the mission. Otherwise, there was a risk of alerting "undesirables" to his location. "I guess I am just going to have to keep going until I find them. No use sulking," the Sentry firmly admitted.

"Though, it would have been a good idea to have asked that operator…."

It felt as if hours had passed.

Nothing.

There had been no changes in the décor either: same despondent atmosphere above and below. The sentry at least anticipated encountering one malevolent element by now.

"Could there be a possibility that…I was transported to the wrong place?"

The question mused.

"Damn! Does that mean that I should have contacted them before I started walking away?"

Then it festered.

"Would I have had been able to make contact with them if I had remained longer at the transmission point?"

The more it reiterated, the more it was interpreted as a disaster.

"Have they been trying to contact me this entire time?! What if I have been walking in the wrong direction this entire time!? What if I am too late?! What if the entire group has already been deleted and I failed!? WHAT IF—"

Unbeknownst to the program, a looming figure skulked not too far away. Carefully, it slithered across the ground, with a fluid ebb and flow as it seemed to unify with the earth and then resurface.

Others materialized.

"—What should I do now?! Should I go back?! Should I keep going forward?! What do I do if I can't find them?! Should I just try to contact the operators anyway? But what if I reveal my position to—"

They picked up momentum, meandering and dipping wildly like rapids rather than a quaint brook….

"—Maybe I should just wait for them to try and contact me? No! That doesn't make sense! They could have been trying to do so this whole time! It's probably because of this damned place that none of the communication signals are going through—"

Closer still….

"—I could just backtrack to where I arrived. No! What good will that do!? It doesn't matter where I am—"

Their leader was impatient. It broke from the rest and seeped out of the ground. A hunched figure sprinted towards its target….

"—That does it! I'll just contact them! I know it's premature but this is an emergency!"

"Sentry 183734 to Operations, can you hear—"

The program's face was engulfed. Within seconds, a multitude of restraints had latched on to his deployed weapon, wrapped around his midriff and clamped down on his ankles. He was flung to the ground! The sentry wriggled frantically to be freed but to no avail.

"What!? What is this?! Are these the viruses?! W-What are they doing to me?! I can't—"

"Are you an idiot!?"

"What?"

"Was he really going to do what I think he was?" added another.

"Huh?!"

"Ah! That is what I hate about new recruits! Look how long we have been signaling our location!" grumbled the third captor.

"Eh?!"

"This one's been walking in the opposite direction to where we are!" the fourth individual added.

"WHAT?!" cried the Sentry.

"Keep your voice down!" hissed the voice belonging to the first captor. "And stop struggling! We aren't going to hurt you!"

"Then why are you pinning me to the ground!" their captive hissed back.

"Because you were about to give us all away," said the fourth captor in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Y-yes, but what else was I supposed to do!" the Sentry countered.

"Pay attention!" growled the third captor. "We've been sending you a signal to our location since you entered this place!"

"Really? Well…WAIT! Who the hell—why are you still holding me down!?" the pinned program snapped.

"You know, if you had been paying attention, you would have saved time!" growled the most belligerent member of the quintet.

The Sentry glowered. "I already said that I am sorry! What more to you want from me?"

The group of five carefully made their way back to the remainder of their team, skulking over the flat terrain like serpents. The first soldier that had spoken to Sentry 183734 appeared to be the most diplomatic. "To be honest, we can't really blame you. It's not easy for us to use comm. links even when in proximity to one another."

Their "guest" glanced at the heavens looming overhead. "I guess it is because of this place."

"No."

The Sentry turned around in time to watch the least welcoming member of the group crawl by. "It's not just this place. It's those monsters."

The newcomer eyed him curiously. "You mean the…."

Suddenly, the program stopped and flattened itself in the snow. The grouch turned back to glance at him. "What are you doing?!"

"I…I have a mission that I need to complete," the rookie announced with resolve. "Are you sure that Sentry 136825 is within your midst?" he then asked, almost pleadingly.

The Navi furthest ahead responded. "Listen. That serial number belongs to no one here. But if Operations was positive of who they are looking for, your guy has to be back at base."

With that, Sentry 183734 slowly resumed following the others. "This job was going to take longer than I thought…."

Pushing that aside, the soldier thought that it wouldn't hurt to at least get more acquainted with these individuals…including the grumpy one. He figured that he could at least learn more about what they were doing out here. "Maybe even provide some additional information back to the Operators. I'm sure that they would appreciate that."

"S-so…I was only given a brief overview of the situation out here? What exactly is going on?"

The nearest program craned his head in the newcomer's direction. Though he sported a full-face obscure visor, like the others, it was obvious that he wasn't pleased. "It's not obvious?! If you can't even figure that out then why the Hell were you sent here in the first place?!" he growled.

Sentry 183734 scowled. "Hey! I wasn't given much time to prepare, okay?! I think I am entitled to know what I am in for so that I can at least—"

"What?! Survive? Escape? Fight?!" The same Navi twisted around, snarling. "What good is that knowledge in this case?! Regardless we can't even—"

"That's enough." The impromptu leader did not even do as much as glance over his shoulder.

However, the grouch took the interruption as an invitation to redirect his frustrations. "Oh, really?! Easy for you to say…Kratos."

Immediately, the accused halted and slammed his fist into the ground. "I told you to stop calling me that!" he hissed.

A scoff. "Oh! What's this? Is the fearless second-in-command getting hot under the collar?! You can't live up to your name if you're going to behave like that!"

Their guest was confused. He began to fall behind as he hesitated whether or not he had a better chance of surviving on his own.…

"Just ignore those two," a voice suddenly manifested adjacent to him. Sentry 183734 nearly jumped! He turned to face another one of the soldiers who had been quiet for most of the trek. Sheepishly, he stated: "It's kind of hard not to, given the fact that they seem ready to go at each other's throats." The other program chuckled. "It's not uncommon for us to temporarily assign ourselves nicknames while on missions. That one over there likes to get himself waist-deep in trivia. So he has a lot of material to work with." The guest nodded. "Oh. So what are you called then?" The program pointed at the grump, still engaging in a full-blown argument. "You'll have to ask him. Deimos is what he has taken a liking to. I don't know if we—" he gestured at himself and the other mute member "— have shown enough 'admirable qualities' to be granted a pseudonym."

"I see."

The Sentry searched for his next words. "So…I guess that D-Deimos is the leader on this mission then?"

His companion appeared taken back. "They…really didn't tell you much, did they?"

A sigh. "No. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. There isn't much to say. Somehow viruses found their way into this obsolete network and are running amok. Not surprised. I'm sure this area has long been forgotten. We just need to plug the opening. The environment will destroy the remaining enemies that we don't."

"I'm sorry to sound pessimistic, but the one thing I do understand is that we are probably completely outnumbered. Apparently, those viruses have been breeding like rabbits," Sentry 183734 countered. "How do they expect only six of you to get the job done?"

The other program looked on ahead. "To be honest…this mission really only needs one."

That didn't make sense.

None of this made any sense.

How is it that their leader could have abandoned them?

That is what the rookie thought as the group bunkered down in their makeshift fort. Thankfully, the impromptu dugout was embedded underneath a few feet of snow, so it was a little bit more hospitable than outside due to the natural insulation. Unfortunately, that feature did nothing to improve the lighting conditions. Outside had been blanketed in no more than an eerie grey hue, like something out of a dilapidated silent film. Underground, it felt even gloomier. Furthermore, the warmth also encouraged the onset of humidity. Cramped and damp. It felt as if it was beginning to corrupt his very programming….

The newcomer was introduced to the fifth member of the group, who was also pretty mute. He only nodded politely before resuming his motionless state, cross-legged on the frosty moist earth. Deimos took the gesture as an opportunity to gibe: "What's wrong Umbra? I thought you liked making new friends!" The other simply glanced at him. Again, the guest could not read his expression, but he definitely had sensed a malevolent vibe.

"So where is the boss?"

"Guess he is still out."

"Figures."

"Deimos, he'll be back."

"Obviously! I just don't like this idea of literally throwing him into the lion's den."

"None of us like it. But, he made a compelling argument: fewer hands spoil the stew."

"You and your damn—"

"So, what? Your 'boss' doesn't have a nickname?"

The last voice was that of Sentry 183734.

Deimos and Kratos were at full attention. "What?" the former asked. Their guest folded his arms. "I already scanned the entire group to confirm what you told me earlier. As I was told prior to my departure, Sentry 136825 is undetectable. I can only assume that this is the 'boss' that you speak of. He hasn't been graced with a nickname of his own?" Again, Deimos took the bait. "You're starting to get rather cheeky, aren't you?"

"Our leader doesn't need a…nickname. He has a proper one…aside from the ID. To be honest, we never communicate to one another with those strings of numbers. So, we wouldn't even recognize his. It's just easier to call him 'boss' anyway," Kratos said. After folding his arms, he added: "You should know that."

Sentry 183734 shrugged. "Pray tell, why would I—"

A hand erupted through the ground at his feet!

Caught unawares, the sentry screamed and threw up his hands in alarm. The appendage hovered for a moment, as if assessing its new surroundings. It then dropped and began clawing at the ground, leaving lengthy recesses in its wake. The guest, at a loss for words, immediately deployed his weapon. He aimed at the intruder.

"Is this…one of the viruses!? Did…did they find out where we are?!"

The remainder of the hand oozed out of the crude opening, gradually slithering along the moist ground….

"W-was it because of me!? Did they track us down because of me?!"

Long digits crept closer and closer, as if stalking an unwary prey….

"I'm such an idiot! Since the others had no choice but to issue a manhunt for me, they put themselves at risk of bein—"

"Oh, look. Speak of the Devil."

The newcomer froze. He glanced up at Kratos. Then, his attention returned to the mysterious arm, fully extended along the ground and flailing about in a fashion no better than that of a beached salmon.

"B-BOSS?!" the Sentry blurted.

The arm finally caught a firm grip. The weakened surface gave way and out of the ever expanding hole quickly appeared another arm. Then, a head…and a torso….

The new arrival was hunched over, apparently exhausted from his ascent to the surface. Panting, he crawled on his elbows, pulling the remainder of his body out. It proved difficult since the snow was quickly being displaced by the force. "Now I know what it feels like to be a mole," he said. In the meantime, the confused guest took this as an opportunity to observe this individual. He was built in a fashion similar to that of the rest of the group, including the helmet and armor design, except that he sported no face visor. But, what really struck a chord was that camouflaged pattern that decorated his plating versus that of the lovely monochromatic hue the others sported.

"He has a…unique appearance that distinguishes him…."

That's right!

Wait.

That auburn hair and crimson ey—

"Put that thing down before you take someone's eye out." An order.

The guest inadvertently hunched over, dazed. "Eh?"

Suddenly, a powerful force took told of his weapon arm. In one motion Sentry 183734 found himself knocked off balance and hurled to the ground. When he finally came to grips with his new perspective, he discovered his only line of defense immobilized under a constant supply of pressure. The program turned to note one foot that had taken root atop. The other was adjacent to his midriff. Finally, he looked up at the crouched being that loomed over him…and became engaged in a staring contest that he wished he could soon forget! The same haunting figure now harbored an air of suspicion about his cold features. If looks could kill….

"Sir, he is a stray we found wandering outside." It was Deimos' voice, surprisingly stern.

Their leader eyed the weapon underneath his foot. "A stray with a bite that's worse that it's bark," he muttered under his breath. Then, his gaze snapped back to the captive. "State your directive."

The guest finally found his voice. "S-Sentry 183734, sir. I've been sent here by headquarter—"

"Of course. They want quick results without any effort whatsoever," his captor grumbled, averting his gaze.

"A-actually, I am here just for verification. They lost track of Sentry 136—"

A dismissive wave cut him off. "Please. Don't. Bad enough hearing it from diagnostics every single time." The boss sighed.

Not meaning to point but the guest's free hand moved on its own. "Y-You're—"

"Sir, what is the status on the other side?" Kratos butted in.

Another sigh. "It's just as bad as we had anticipated. But, there might be a way to close the rift without arousing too much suspicion." He rose, releasing the guest's arm in the process. Accordingly, Sentry 183734 retracted his weapon. But, he refrained from getting up. "This path will lead us as close to that point as possible," their leader continued, gesturing at the hole. "I had to make sure to that the viruses couldn't track us back here." The others nodded. "So, if you all are rested up, let's move." His subordinates complied silently, each making their way into the opening. However, the outsider remained on the ground. He said nothing.

Umbra was the last to enter. Afterwards, the boss turned to address the newcomer. "What are you waiting for?"

The guest was obviously confused. "Me? My assignment isn't—"

"Yes it is." A simple statement, yet its delivery left no room for argument. "You would not have been equipped with this—" the leader brandished his weapon, an almost identical model to the rookie's "—unless your second objective was to lend a helping hand." His arm returned to normal. The other program was left speechless. "You have the same—"

"I am assuming that yours is the latest model that has been in development for some time. Before they issue the upgrades to me, they usually test them on…less critical specimens," his superior continued.

Wait a minute.

"I'm sorry to say it soldier but…you're a guinea pig."

"Bull! Not even a bat could navigate through this place! It was a wonder how that guy even made it through," Sentry 183734 thought as he wriggled through the narrow tunnel. There was barely enough space for him to see where he was going. The seven programs trekked through the passageway at a steady pace. Deimos was at the head while their newest member held the rear, right behind Sentry 136825…better known as simply "boss". "So now that I have found him. I really should be getting in contact with headquarters." Simple. "But, I can't!" Interference due to his location underground might be the culprit. So for now he was just soldier number seven…better known as the weaponry "guinea pig". "Absolutely ridiculous," Seven grumbled privately. Or so he thought. "There's no reason to get offended," a voice replied from ahead. It was the boss. "Field tests like this are normal. There are probably a couple dozen that have been equipped with the same weaponry program. It's just to verify its performance in an actual combat scenario." At this point, Seven didn't really care if he was being insubordinate. He stopped. "And what if it isn't 'successful'? I'm completely screwed!?" A delayed response made him reconsider his choice of language. But, the boss' expression was nonchalant when he paused to take a glance behind. "Trust me. You'll be fine." The boss then resumed crawling.

However, Seven did not.

"I don't understand…Commander." This time, when the boss paused again, he craned his head as best as he could to look behind. "So you had a chance to scan me over. When was it, when you were lying eagle-spread on the ground?" The guest shrugged. "No. The second I saw your head appear out of the rabbit hole," he said. "I thought there was an error when your serial number matched that of my target. Why would they send a mere grunt to check up on someone of your caliber?" Seven bowed his head. "I beg your pardon but…why are you here?" His leader remained silent. Then, he resumed crawling. "You're right. It doesn't make sense, does it?"

End the conversation.

"Sir, how much longer until we reach our destination?" Deimos called out from ahead.

"It won't be much longer. In fact, I think you should be noting a change in your surroundings very soon," his superior replied.

"You mean that we will be able to see where we are going," Kratos said.

Their leader apparently ignored that statement. "When we reach the end, exit quickly. The longer we take, the better the chance of being noticed." In response, Umbra gestured toward their destination. "How close will we be to the rift?"

"Pretty close."

"Pretty close, eh?!" Deimos snapped.

When the group had finally arrived to the end of the tunnel, Deimos began to carry out his next order without hesitation. However, the moment his head disappeared through the opening, it immediately flew back in.

Kratos stepped in. "Just hurry up and get out Deimos!"

The disgruntled solider growled. "There is no way—"

"Don't even think about it!" the boss called out sternly.

"This terrain is terrible! They could catch wind of us at any time!" Deimos cried. Seven noted the boss' brisk nod. "Good. Such close proximity is the last thing they will anticipate." Then, a broad fist slammed into the ground. "Now get out! Or so help me I will blow everyone out of this tunnel!" he growled. "Apply the patch before we are noticed." Seven observed the exchange of words silently. "The others appear…accustomed to you," he smugly commented. Then, he caught sight of piercing glare the boss threw over his shoulder. The Sentry quickly added: "I-I only mean that you all seem to communicate well with one another!" After an excruciating minute of tense silence, his superior resumed his attention forward with a lengthy sigh. In response, Seven slumped his shoulders. "Guess I'm off the hook." Immediately afterward, the weary team rushed out of the hole like mice, scurrying about on all fours to stay as low to the ground as possible.

Deimos quickly surveyed their situation.

The landscape here was no different to where he and the others had salvaged their newest recruit…save for the rift. The distortion was blatant: a large red gash disrupted the monochromatic decor, as if someone had hastily taken a pair of scissors to the fabric of this dimension. Its frayed edges appeared to be unstable, an occasional bolt of energy, sporting a striking electric blue, danced along its length. Deimos slowly nodded. "Well…would you look at that." Kratos nudged him. "Keep quiet," he hissed. Then, he gestured at Umbra. "You ready?" The program nodded and then briskly scuttled towards the disturbance. Seven could tell that he was nervous from his gait. Suddenly, a voice erupted through his communication line. "Keep your eyes peeled." It was the boss. "Secure the patch and begin monitoring its progress. You can't leave until it has been completely downloaded." Back at the huddle, Deimos quickly approached his superior. "What do we do if another one of them crawls from out of that thing?" The boss' expression was grim. "I go in and retrieve our isolated member. You and the others cover us. After everyone has been rounded up…we abort." Deimos was taken back. "But, we've come all this way!" His commander twisted to face him. "I won't risk casualties!" he gritted through is teeth. "If anything comes out of that portal, guess what it's going to notice first!? It would only be a matter of time before its friends are alerted."

His eyes quickly broke away to scan the area. "The six of you will return to the haven. I will leave the area last."

"What?!" Kratos rammed in between the two. "Are you—"

It must have been only his imagination. But, Kratos could have sworn that he had just angered a demon with the way the boss' eyes smoldered. "Do it." Umbra's voice disrupted the tense atmosphere. "Sir, the patch is being downloaded." The boss turned away from the other two to address him. "Good. Just concentrate on—"

His voice died.

From behind, he could have sworn he heard a faint gagging noise. "What was that?" he whispered, more to himself than the others nearby. He heard it again. Deimos let out a growl of frustration. "What is that!?" The leader's head twisted from side to side. "Where is Number Seven?" A shuffling noise from behind marked his presence. "I'm right behind you," Seven mouthed, adjacent to the other silent member of the group. The boss then glanced at Kratos, Deimos. "That's two more," he said. "Six is at the rift. Two, Three, Five, and Seven are with me." He looked around again and simultaneously activated his radio. "Where is number four?" Kratos did the same. "He was just here. Left my conversation with him to rush over to you, sir." Then, Kratos turned away to address their missing member through the link. "Number Two to Four, do you read me?" Right on cue, the gagging noise resurfaced…but not through the communication line. "Damn. That noise again!? I can't detect anything nearby aside from us!" Deimos growled. "Correction," Kratos said. "Everyone but Number Four…."

The boss gave instructions for the two to keep watch on Umbra and their route of escape while he scanned the local area in more detail. In the meantime, Seven had already broken away to begin scouring on his own. Number Four: the anonymous program that he had conversed with while returning to the haven. Seven had seen him leave the hole and he had been practically adjacent to him the entire time. Why? Why would he suddenly disappear without a trace? Seven had even witnessed him exchanging words with Kratos. "Where are you?" he sighed. This was supposed to have been a straightforward assignment. Seven should have left by now. Despite what the boss said, this wasn't his mission. Why was he suddenly being thrown into this entire mess!? The guest crawled through the grey slush taking in the barren wasteland as far as the eye could see. No sign of those monsters. Speaking of which….

He hesitated before opening his communication link. "So where is this enemy?"

"We have bigger things to worry about at the moment," Kratos growled in reply.

"Obviously, but I never was informed abou—"

Number Seven had been distracted by his conversation, oblivious to where he was going, when his outstretched palm brushed over something hard. He immediately retracted his hand, initially noting only more snow underneath. "Hey…Hey number Seven!" Kratos' voice cried out. "You still there?" The guest did not mean to ignore him but for some reason he was completely transfixed by his discovery. "It could just be a rock or something," he muttered to himself. "S-Seven? What happened?!" Kratos again. His tone was more urgent this time. Cautiously, Seven wiped away the obstructing snow to reveal a smooth metallic surface that his fingers had registered. Quickly, he brushed away more reveali—

"Why weren't you answering you idiot!" The boss had snuck up from behind. "Are you trying to scare the living daylights out of everyone?!" However, instead of the usual weak counter, the guest remained silent. Frozen. "Hey! Didn't you hear me?!" The leader clamped onto his shoulder and shook. "What the hell are you—"

Uncovered from the snow was the head of Number Four.

A moment later it digitized.

"Boss." Seven turned towards him, expecting immediate orders as to their next move.

He regretted it immediately.

The Commander was only known through word of mouth. Very few had personally met him. Yet, he was never glorified into some ridiculous spectacle. He was just the boss. The person who demanded their respect and rightfully so. He was the one that they turned to for guidance. Their tactician. Their leader….

So who was this person? Sporting such an uncharacteristic expression of horror. Nauseated. His frame racked with tremors. Seven immediately recollected his basic programming: if there is one thing that must always be upheld when in combat it would be to never express fear. That is the first step towards defeat. Surely, no one ever mentioned that to this imposter! There had to be a mistake. "This person. Just a few moments ago he was…."

The boss' personality had not been far off from what Seven had imagined: dogmatic and distant. His first encounter with the sniper confirmed such. But, he had felt something was off. That rigid appearance. It was just a front. The mask had begun to slip long before Seven had arrived and something else was going on that the others had failed to disclose to him. He just knew that he was right about this….

"Just make sure that he stays…in one piece."

Wait.

That operator had made that request. But, why? Why now of all times? Seven had done his best to ignore that statement as it continuously resurfaced in his logic programming. Why would a lowly grunt like him be bestowed the responsibility of looking out for a superior? A commander no less! This guy was certainly capable of defending himself from a threat, much more than the remaining group combined. Therefore, that statement should have been directed at him, not this behemoth! Which lead to another issue: how the boss had responded to his inquiry. It didn't make sense. If this guy was more than capable of taking care of himself, why were six other programs accompanying him? They were not acting as bodyguards, that's for sure. They were simply following orders. He could have come here alone and installed the patch by himself. Such a strategy would have proved more successful, especially in terms of stealth. Instead, there were seven…no… six targets scurrying around like insects. The guest's undivided attention had remained on the boss during this eternal rant. He watched the other solider spread his hands out along the moist frigid surface. Slowly, they seeped underneath and slid towards the resting place of their fallen comrade. Seven began to become agitated. "What is he doing? It's time for the contingency plan! We need to get out of here!" He knew that he was about to break his own commandment but didn't care. Never mind keeping up appearances. They were all in danger. Whatever had gotten Four was still around…stalking its next victim. The newcomer tore his attention away from the boss for a moment to scan the area. Seven was never indulged further regarding the viruses. He wished he had done so earlier when the opportunity arose. Otherwise, there was no indication of anything else here. If the "monsters" were nearby, he couldn't tell. Eventually, Seven returned his attention on the boss, who now pained with disbelief. Those Stages were rampantly surfacing. This was getting ridiculous. "Boss," Seven hissed. "Boss, snap out of it!" But, the leader simply bowed his head, obstructing his face from view. He shook it mournfully. Seven grasped the nearest shoulder plate. "We need to move," he nearly growled. The newcomer was aware he was crossing a line but this wasn't the time for formalities.

"One already gone."

Seven leaned closer. "What?"

"I couldn't—"

"BOSS!"

Too loud.

Red was very vibrant and intimidating color, associated with emotions like belligerence, hatred, and destruction. Seven had come to realize that quickly when he was easily overpowered, forced to peer into those crimson pools. He had been ready to bolt and never return, thinking: "If this is how he treats a comrade, I'd hate to be his enemy." But, such a color was even more disturbing when associated with fear. A child whimpering in the dark. That was the best comparison Seven could make when those eyes flashed upon him. Everything was wrong! He never wanted to be here. That was supposed to be simple. He should have returned by now, safe and sound. But where was he? Trapped by an invisible enemy with one member already deleted and his boss two steps from falling into a pit of despair. Seven, wasn't anything special. He knew this. Just one of many constructed for combat. He accepted his fate as …dare he say it…most likely becoming cannon fodder. But, being given such a responsibility…damn that operator! He wasn't meant for this kind of thing! But, no matter how much he wanted to scream himself mute, shower everything around him with bullets, and run away from this place until his legs gave way, he knew that there was still a mission to be completed. And, more importantly, he had a request to fulfill. "He told me to make sure you stay in one piece," Seven carefully began, as if unconfident of his own words.

"Don't leave us."

The boss eyed him fearfully, as if he had fallen right before his eyes as well. Then, the sniper swallowed. The grim line of his mouth hinted at confusion but he remained silent, averting his gaze to scan the ground for some sort of response. Without tearing his eyes away, the commander muttered: "Get the others back to base. After, contact operations for an emergency exit." Seven was ready to blow their cover once more. "BUT—"

Those belligerent eyes resurfaced.

His voice fled.

Then, he slowly released his grip about the sniper's shoulder. Said hand dropped to the ground, as if robbed of its vigor. Seven hung his head as he quietly complied. "Yes, sir." Then, he crawled away, as if heading a mournful procession. He had to be the bearer of bad news to the others, announcing that one of their own had passed and they were all in immediate danger. He should have been moving at a faster pace. He should be panicking. He should have opened every single communication line and blared at the others to break into a full run for the exit.

He should have done so many things differently….

But, that was then.

This is now.

Instead of clawing through slush like a wounded beast, he stood tall. A domineering stance; hands firmly clasped behind his back and feet planted firm. He sensed the presence of his six subordinates behind him: a monochromatic row of grey and black, feet together and arms held rigidly at their sides. They had been waiting. Not for long, of course. But, since they were on assignment, punctuality was necessary. This time they would be serving as escorts, so to speak, to two rather miserable looking individuals before him. Not that Seven could blame them. This situation wasn't exactly on friendly terms, given the objective. But, these two emitted such to their very core. Even their aura reeked of depression. Or at least one of them did.

Hard to tell what the taller one was thinking given the obscure visor that sported his red and white headgear.

It was the other one. Oh, yes. He definitely didn't take kind to this entire ordeal. Just one glance of those emerald eyes made it obvious. More so his apparent slouched posture, obstructed from view by that unwieldy shielding program draped about him like a cloak fashioned from the thickest wool. Perhaps he was simply overwhelmed by the excess data he had to process just to simply move. After all, that program was designed without much concern for performance. Not a "one-size-fits-all", so to speak, which probably explained why nothing more than a dead stare with blue and yellow-patterned crown were visible. Whatever the case, he was not happy to be here or see the escort team. The foreigner peered at them as if lost in the recesses of his own boredom: half-lidded lifeless eyes barely left Seven. The escort leader couldn't even tell if he was just the object of an awkward amount of attention or if the program had gone into standby from prolonged inactivity. His partner appeared more attentive…but less welcoming. Only other noticeable feature was the thin sharp line that comprised a mouth. He stood erect, apparently unfazed by the heavy accessory that also cloaked his frame. By Seven's standards, their visual cues were definitely flamboyant. But they were apparently personal models, not (necessarily) designed for combat situations like what he was programmed for. Hence, the cloaks. A mere two minutes in this inhospitable hell would prove impossible for any entity that was not reinforced accordingly. The data in this area was unstable, easily resulting in corruption and ultimately deletion if left unattended. But this place was so familiar to Seven that he did not even think twice about venturing in. He never did so when he first arrived all those months ago. He surely wasn't going to start now. Last time, there had been more serious matters at hand….

Just like now.

Seven saluted the pair. His subordinates followed suit.

"I am Sharo military sentry number 183734. My team and I will be at your assistance for the duration of this mission." He paused for introductions from the pair.

No response.

Suppressing a sigh, he continued. "My team has assigned two objectives for this mission: First, as guides towards this abandoned network previously utilized by the military research and development facilities."

He paused.

"Secondly, to assist in the tracking and successful apprehension of military sentry number 136825…program code SearchMan EXE ."

R&R

LOTS

Author's Notes: For those of you who are unaware, Kratos and Deimos stem from Greek mythology. One is the persona of strength. While the other, the son of Ares, symbolizes the fear and dread of combat.