ZOIDS:

REVOLUTION RISING

ゾイド革命ライジング

One

THE INTERROGATION

A heavy, onyx door with peeling paint opened with a squealing creak, flowing in a blast of hard light against a slim silhouette. The air was musty, pungent with the overwhelming musk of maleness, disinfectant wash, and some air freshener that was steadily losing the fight with every passing second.

The door closed, locks clicking into the place with an echo. Shoes resonated against the concrete floor as the walker was guided the solitary overhead light that casted just enough light to make out a square table in the center.

"Lights." The voice was commanding, holding just between serenity and hostility.

Rows of light fixtures systematically winked on, swarming the room in intense rays. The sudden explosion of light flashed into the eyes of a prisoner sitting at the table. He grimaced, holding his bound hands over his eyes that were pinched shut. As they adjusted, the prisoner eased his eyes open in the softening light. He brought his hands down, readily being instantly drawn to a man standing before him. The man was moderate in height, fit in build, and relatively aged in appearance. His cold blue eyes scrutinized the prisoner with the upmost repulsion. The prisoner sighed and shifted in chair was too small for his considerable size; it was going to be a long day.

The man unslung a folder from underneath his right arm, letting it fall on the table with a slap against the metal. He removed his dark overcoat and hung it on the back of his chair before pulling it back to sit down.

"I'm Epps. Anti-Terror Intelligence for the Zoids Battle Commission."

The prisoner glanced down at his bound hands for a second, flicking imaginary dust from his thumb as he looked up. "You certainly aren't the first. Look, I've already cooperated with you people."

"And your life is contingent on such cooperation." Epps felt he didn't need to remind the prisoner of that. It was beyond obvious, even though the murderer didn't deserve the very life he was gifted. Talking to the man felt like a breach in policy in itself. He took in a deep breath, exhaling just as heavily. He looked the prisoner over, examining the healing bruises against his cheek. His lip was partially busted, swelling just a taste. It appeared fairly fresh, just a couple days' old. He was definitely starting to look the part. "Fitting in okay?"

The prisoner replied in a subtle laugh, but there was no humor in his voice. "The guards are expressive in their treatment."

Epps grunted, revolted. "You mean the guard you put in the infirmary with kidney failure and a crushed larynx? His recovery is doubtful."

The prisoner shrugged, unfazed. "I defended myself. He started the fight."

"And you definitely finished it," Epps commented.

"I doubt you're here to discuss a brawl," the prisoner sighed. "Either start talking or allow me to get back to my cell."

Epps's eyes shifted to the folder. He clicked the latch that held the folder together, opening its contents. "Then let's get down to business." Epps set an audio recorder atop the rusting table and clicked the record button with his thumb. "State your name for the record."

The prisoner leaned back in his chair, propping his elbow against the backrest. "Dr. Laon."

"Let the record state that prisoner 7824-D of Stonereach Maximum Security Prison is Dr. Laon, Chief Scientist of the terrorist organization known as the Backdraft Group." Epps drew the first sheet from the folder. "Let's talk about August 3rd of last year. You should be familiar with that date. At approximately 10:49 am, the Backdraft Group launched an unexpected terrorist attack on Capital City in an unsuccessful effort to overthrow the Zoids Battle Commission." He looked up at Laon. "Am I correct so far?"

Dr. Laon grunted. Life couldn't get much worse than it was now. He had nothing to lose up to this point, so why fight against desire to do so? "That's right."

Epps kept his composure. There was a nonchalant attitude about the scientist, as if he didn't care what he had been an accessory to. It disgusted him. All terrorist like him should be lined up and shot; but what would that solve? Wars were fought differently now. In this day and age, intelligence was just as important as manpower. Why kill your enemy when you could potentially learn from them instead? Dr. Laon was that enemy.

"Let's start from the beginning. April 29th. You were admitted to Dawnbreak Memorial Hospital's detention medical bay following the attack of the Royal Cup. You were to be sentenced once cleared by the staff. That never happened, though, did it?"

"You have all the answers in your little folder," Laon started. "There's no need for me to respond."

Epps fiddled with the pen in his right hand, gripping it like a knife. "You speak when I order you to speak, which includes this interrogation. And I don't know if you've noticed, Dr. Laon, but you're a convicted terrorist. If it wasn't for the valuable intel you've provided to the Battle Commission already, we would've never taken the death penalty off the table. That in itself is a blessing in your case. Now, either play ball and answer the questions or be executed the following morning via a firing squad. Yeah, offenders like you don't get the needle. You help us and I guarantee you'll burn a little less in hell with a clear conscience. Are we clear?"

Dr. Laon picked the dirt from under his fingernails with an aggravated expression on his face. Work detail had murdered his cuticles.

Epps slapped the folder shut, grabbed his jacket, and stood up from the table. "I won't waste my time." He turned to leave. "Firing squad had better start from the feet up."

Dr. Laon laughed. "Calm down, Mr. Epps. You can ease the theatrics. I'm willing to play your game."

Epps released his hand from the door's handle and turned to meet the madman's emerald gaze.

"You're certainly more quick tempered than the others," Laon added.

The intelligence agent walked back to the table, nibbling his lower lip in an incensed manner. The man had managed to get under his skin quickly. Epps that that; it meant he's won. Laon was a man that desired control. Epps wouldn't grant him a sliver. If Laon wanted to live to die in prison—which he would—then cooperation was key.

"You jerk me around…"

"And you'll kill me," Laon finished. "Got'cha. Ask your questions."

Epps sat back down, folder open. "April 29th."

Dr. Laon leaned back in the chair, exhaling. "You know what happened. Six days in, the Backdraft—unknown to my knowledge—attacked the hospital and freed me."

"Resulting in the deaths of three Commission guards, several hospital personnel, and dozens more who were injured," inserted Epps. "And you're positive you weren't aware of this scheme?"

"Absolutely," Laon replied. "I was just as surprised as everyone else. I believed the defeat at the Royal Cup ended the Backdraft. You destroyed their satellites, hunted down stragglers, and imprisoned hundreds. There was no reason for me to expect a rescue."

Epps paused, glaring at Laon with suspicious eyes. His choice of words was interesting, nonetheless. Most terrorist used possessive terms like "us" and "we" to profess their commitment to their cause; Laon didn't, however. He was a member of the Backdraft, and a serious authority figure as well. So why did he sound so… disassociated?

"For the record, I need to know why you joined the Backdraft in the first place. Were you recruited?"

"Yes and no," Laon answered. That was as simple as he could put it. "They reached out to me years ago, but I declined the offer. That was before I knew they interfered in unsanctioned Zoids battles. I was tending to… other matters."

Epps scribbled something down on his notepad. "Like?"

Dr. Laon squirmed in his chair. He grimaced for less than a second, but it was long enough for Epps to realize he'd made Laon uncomfortable with the question. Good. Terrorist always prided themselves on being in complete control of themselves and others. The only person that could break them was themselves.

"It's personal," Laon said at last.

"That won't fly, pal," Epps told him. "Privacy went straight out the window the second you became ours. We know more about you than we'd like: likes, dislikes, choices in women, favorite alcoholic drinks; the list goes on. Your life is an open book now." Epps sniffed, practically tasting the pungent smell in the back of his throat. He wiped his nose with a handkerchief. "Would this decline have anything to do with Dr. Steve Toros?"

Laon's head snapped up.

Epps smiled inside. That certainly got his attention. "We have numerous documented occasions where you have personally attacked the Blitz Team, whether alone or with hired mercenaries. All thus attempts failed, but that didn't stop you from trying."

"You're out of your depth," warned Laon. Epps was flirting on his most sensitive of nerves. He'd pushed enough buttons, but now he was playing with fire. Even the Count knew not to cross that line.

"I'm exactly in my depth," chuckled Epps. "I know the story – boy likes girl, boy gets friend to write sappy letter, letter gets signed incorrectly, best friend snags girl. Happens every day. You're not the only man who got his girl stolen."

"Watch your mouth," Laon heated. "You had no right to…"

Epps help up his hand. "Don't even. You forfeited your rights when you helped murder millions of innocent lives. That's it, isn't it? You wanted revenge on Toros so bad that you allied yourself with terrorists. A little extreme, if you ask me. Most crazies would just shadow their target, learn their schedule, and murder them in the dead of night. But that's not you, is it? No, you wanted more. You didn't just want to kill Dr. Toros; no, that's way too easy. You had to humiliate him, make him feel just as bad as you did before you rub him out. Quite childish, really."

Dr. Laon was on the verge of spitting flames. Every inclination pulled at him to lunge across the table, grab the little prick's neck, and snap. He could practically visualize it. What did he know about his pain? It didn't matter. That was a long time ago, and he had spent enough time in his isolated cell to bury his hatred toward Toros and his treachery. It was behind him now, but that was before Toros had slipped through his fingers yet again. He wouldn't accomplish his revenge, not now; and he certainly wouldn't give Epps the satisfaction of giving in to his tactics.

"To answer your question, yes, that was the reason I joined the Backdraft. I wanted Toros's life for what he had done. He stole the life I wanted, the woman I loved. But that's ancient history, just like this interrogation will be if we don't move on. It's none of your business."

Technically, Epps thought, it was business; but he wouldn't press, even though he had the incentive to do so. Laon was far from rehabilitation, and Epps imagined he wouldn't be able to stand a few minutes with Dr. Toros without feeling some type of animosity. He wouldn't sell him short, though. A torn photograph was found in his personal effects during Epps's research. The material was worn around the edges, but otherwise well preserved despite being ripped in half. Piecing the picture together brought to life an extremely beautiful woman with incredibly lengthy fuchsia-red hair before a cloudless sky. She almost didn't seem real, but running the picture through facial recognition tech confirmed that she was the late wife of Dr. Steve Toros.

Maybe the doctor had changed, but that didn't excuse him from his horrific crimes. He was still largely unrepentant. "Getting back to the hospital break, what happened after they freed you?"

Dr. Laon cleared his throat, thankful that the conversation was taking another path. "I was relocated to their subsidiary base of operation in Mount Iselina. I was unaware the base existed."

"And it was there that the Backdraft planned their resurgence?"

Laon adjusted the restraints, wriggling his wrists to find comfort. "Not immediately, but yes. The Backdraft wanted to end the Zoids Battle Commission, and that called for an extensive operation."

"And what was your role?" Epps questioned further.

"I was just a scientist."

Epps frowned condescendingly at him. Modesty definitely wasn't one of his traits, so there was no reason for him to try. "Yeah, their chief scientist." He turned a few pages in the folder. "Was Capital City the primary target?"

Laon met Epps's eyes with furrowed brows. "You were the target. Capital City was insurance, a ploy to lure you into a fight you couldn't possibly win. Your mobile headquarters was scheduled for its annual overhaul. We coincided the attack with that. The Ultrasaurus's defenses would be hindered. Startup systems that were shut down would take longer to spin up. Satellite communication, motion sensors, radar—all systems that wouldn't detect the incoming attack. And it worked. So, any city would've been the target so long as the Battle Commission was there."

Epps found the rage roiling up inside him again. For a man that wasn't too committed to the Backdraft and their case, he sure sounded like he was proud of what he'd accomplished. There was a cavalier nature in the manner of which he spoke, and it rubbed Epps raw.

"This leads to the Fuzors. When did they come into the picture, or were they in the works all along?"

That seemed to perk the scientist up. Laon rejected his slumped over posture and became ridged. He'd been labeled many things since the Capital City massacre: murderer, terrorist, lunatic, and even soul harbinger by the religious. But at his core, above all else, he was a scientist; and though no one would ever admit it, he was the most brilliant and innovative man of this generation.

"The Fuzors are the peak of my genius. They had long been a pet project of mine, but I never had the complete resources and support to undergo such a monumental task."

"And I'm sure the Backdraft funded this little idea," Epps figured.

"Not at first, no. I pitched them the concept some time before the Royal Cup incident, but the technology just didn't exist at the time. I needed minds just as superior to mine to accomplish it. Such minds weren't available to me, however."

Epps pulled up a sheet of paper. "In a previous interrogation, your concept for the Fuzors was, and I quote, 'the realization of Zoids superior to those of their predecessors in every way achievable. While smaller, these Zoids would perform feats that would dwarf modern accomplishments and open the way to an advanced future unlike anything prior.' If you were a CEO of a Zoids manufacturer, I'd say that even I would be excited by those words. Too bad that isn't the case. Do you still stand by those comments?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Laon said with conviction. "The Fuzors are the future of Zoids."

"The Fuzors are dangerous," Epps highlighted. "Let's get serious. The Fuzors are weapons that you built to defeat the Battle Commission. I admit that the nerds in our science division are awestruck by what you've accomplished, but everyone else—including the survivors of Capital City—knows different."

"Every Zoid can be utilized as a weapon," Laon fired back. "That's what they are, aren't they? From the days of the Ancient Zoidians to our modern era, Zoids have been used primarily as weapons. If think their anything else, then you've diluted yourself into thinking otherwise."

Epps flicked a picture across the table that contained a grainy snapshot of the Matrix Dragon. "Then you made a helluva weapon, Dr. Laon. Congratulations."

Dr. Laon examined the picture in silence. It was quite a weapon, his best one yet. A civilian must've taken the photo. People and their phones, Laon thought. Even in a crisis they couldn't help to press "record." A percentage of the footage from that day alone was captured by civilians. Idiots.

The intelligence agent exhaled and checked his watch. He'd already spent enough time with this scumbag, but he wasn't finished yet. Epps prided himself on being thorough. "Let's talk about the Nexus Operating Visual Assistant, the NOVA artificial intelligence. The software, albeit very degraded, was pulled from each individual Fuzor with the exception of the one you designated 'Fire Phoenix'. You presented this A.I. to the Battle Commission several years ago. Is that correct?"

Laon rolled his eyes. "It is." If there was anything he hated to be reminded of, it was what was about to come out of Epps's mouth.

"That proposal was declined, and for good reason. A remnant of the A.I. was salvaged from the Fuzor Nightwise. What we were able examine, which wasn't much, was that it had been greatly upgraded from the original. What changed?"

Laon wasn't compelled to answer, even if Epps threatened him with death. He didn't have the authority to grant such an order. That type of power came from men considerably higher, and they wouldn't pull the trigger, either. His knowledge was too valuable to them; but Laon would play along.

"It's learning capabilities. I designed the NOVA with the Ultimate X as inspiration, which was once thought to be only a myth. An artificial intelligence with the ability to learn and adapt to its environment and opponent would grant the user a formidable edge. However, when the likes of the Berserk Fury and the Liger Zero were confirmed Ultimate Xs, I went back to the drawing board. My initial design only allowed the A.I. to learn up to a certain point. Why not give it the ability to absorb information infinitely?"

"Which is precisely the problem," Epps grumbled. "It's dangerous and reckless. What if the NOVA learned about its own existence, becoming self-aware? What would stop it from making choices for itself? That's what you hardwired into the Fuzors! Imagine if the Fuzors began to think that they didn't need to take orders from you anymore? They could still be running amuck with a path of destruction behind them."

"You insult my intelligence," Laon scowled. "I very well knew the possibility of the program becoming rogue. It's why I installed a failsafe. Any unauthorized action taken by the Fuzor would've caused their combat system to freeze."

"Then their 'authorized' actions were flawless." Epps flipped a page so hard in the folder that it almost ripped. "Were the Fuzors the Count's idea or yours?"

"They were mine," Laon said. "The Count just signed off on it, giving me everything I needed for the project. He just wanted to send in an army, overwhelm the Ultrasaurus and take the city. I readjusted his thinking. We stood a better chance with the Fuzors leading the fight."

"You said you were 'just a scientist' earlier." Epps inserted a piece of gum in his mouth. May the spearmint flavor would cancel out the smell. He chewed it slowly. "I find that ludicrous."

Laon sighed. "I was."

"Doubt it. You were more than that. You answered to the Count, your only superior. You outranked officers, organized operations, and led battalions. That tells me you weren't just a scientist." The intelligence officer looked away and read his notes. "You were issued several subordinates, some of which who acted as your primary task force. Last time I checked, our scientists in the Battle Commission aren't privileged enough to have their own soldiers, so let's cut the bull about you being an ordinary scientist. Now, your task force consisted of a Major Polta, whom we have in custody, and three individuals known as Raven, Reese, and Seraph. We have no record of the latter three. Care to fill me in on their whereabouts?"

"I can only assume that two of them are dead," Laon shrugged. "The last, I'm not sure."

"And whom are you referring to, the one you're not sure of?"

The name was out of Dr. Laon's mouth before he realized it. "Raven."

Epps nodded. "And this is the same Raven that killed the acting Count?"

"Yes."

"Y'know, I'd love to track this guy down and talk to him," Epps thought out loud. "No clue about where he might've disappeared to?"

Dr. Laon believed the world would be a better place with Raven out of the picture. The man was wholly unpredictable, extremely dangerous, and anti-social. His commitment to the Backdraft should've been called into question the second he was revived. That single gunshot still echoed in Laon's ears.

"I don't know where he is, and I preferably wouldn't mind if I never saw him again. He's a traitor."

"Ah, yes," Epps recalled. "He and this Reese person betrayed you, joining the Blitz Team before the attack. I'd call that a positive career change for them. But let's get down to what my superiors really want to know from you—the Committee of Seven. We don't know much about them, other than that they're the governing body of the Backdraft with a Count acting as their chieftain. They're quite mysterious, aren't they? We only know as much as what our detainees tell us. For instance, interrogations with Major Polta indicated that 'the Count' was once a member of the Committee of Seven before being appointed. A new number is then plucked from their numerous senior officers to join to fill the slot. Interesting."

"I never met them," Dr. Laon said. "Only a select few have authorization to meet with them. You'll be wasting your time trying to find them. They operate under extreme secrecy. That's all I know."

"I believe you."

Laon was caught off guard. Was Epps screwing with him? "You do?"

"In this case, sure," Epps considered. "You may have practically been the Count's second-in-command, but even you weren't that high in their rank system. We'll keep looking for them, interviewing as many as we can. Their hands are coated with just as much blood as everyone else. But there's still so much we need from you, Dr. Laon."

"Like what?" Laon was growing impatient. "You've asked me enough questions. What else do you possibly need to know?"

"Well, to name a few: the acquisition of an organoid named Ambient, his involvement, and awakening of what seems to be the most powerful being currently on this planet in an ancient Zoidian."

"Fiona?" Laon said in a hushed tone.

"That's right," Epps confirmed. "It's because of you that this girl has tapped into a nature of herself that we would've preferred she kept dormant. Now we have an unconscious Zoidian back in HQ that could snap every bone in my body just by looking at me."

"She's alive?"

Epps's expression dropped. "What, you thought your little fusion tactic would kill her? I'm sure you realized firsthand just how powerful this girl is, not to mention you amplified that by syncing her with a homicidal organoid." Epps had to laugh to keep from killing the mad scientist. "She alone, coupled with that organoid and your Fuzors, could've leveled that city. Do you know how many people died that day, Dr. Laon? I'll tell you…" Epps snatched a sheet from the folder. "… over 250,000 people, and that's not including causalities from Backdraft or Battle Commission. Capital City had a population of over 3 million people, and you managed to murder five percent of them. That percentage continues to rise as we dig up more bodies. You helped murder thousands, Dr. Laon, injured hundreds of thousands more, and managed to displace an entire city and its citizens." Epps clapped his hands slowly. "Well done."

Laon didn't say anything, partly to avoid another monologue from Epps. The figures were staggering when heard out loud. He had heard that the casualties from the attack were substantial and that rebuilding the great city would take decades. They'd practically have to start from scratch—the destruction was too great. The Backdraft would certainly be remembered.

"I have just a few more questions before I end this interview," Epps managed to say through his inward rage. "Van Flyheight made an interesting comment during his debriefing. During his engagement with the Matrix Dragon, he said that the organoid Ambient told him that its purpose was to annihilate the human race from this planet, that we were a disease that needed to be purged. I admit, it sounded quite farfetched when I first heard of it, but I immense respect for Mr. Flyheight and what he's done for the Battle Commission. Were you, in any way, aware that these were the intentions of this organoid?"

Dr. Laon almost laughed, but he figured he wouldn't tap-dance on Epps's nerves now. They were beyond back and forth quips, and Laon could tell by the intelligent agent's concrete face that he wasn't up for games anymore.

"No, I wasn't aware. Ambient wasn't an organoid you have private conversations with. In fact, if I hadn't built a device to control him, he would've tried to kill us."

"And that wasn't a red flag?"

"Not at the time," Laon supposed. "He found us, remember? The organoid was discovered snooping around our facility on Mount Iselina."

"And you didn't find that peculiar than an organoid, an ancient Zoid that, before now, was thought to be extinct, had discovered your classified facility that was thought to be impossible to find? You don't find it strange that he sought you out?"

"We didn't know that!" Laon spat. "It was a shock in itself that another organoid existed outside of the ones we had in stasis. Maybe he honed in on the other organoids we had, I don't know. And yes, I took advantage of the fact he found us. He was extremely difficult to catch, killing several of our soldiers before we successfully obtained him. He was more aggressive than I initially expected, but I certainly didn't know he had an ulterior motive."

Epps grunted. "Okay. When the Matrix Dragon was defeated, Mr. Flyheight told us where Ambient's body could be found. A search of the said area revealed that the body was no longer present. I would assume that means he's still out there. Wouldn't you find that unsettling than an organoid hell-bent on neutralizing humans is still on the loose?"

"Ambient shouldn't have survived," Laon informed. "The amount of energy circulating through his body should've killed both him and Fiona. Even if he's alive and well, who does he have to fulfill his plan? The Backdraft was his only tool, and with them gone, there's no one else. It doesn't matter how powerful a single organoid is; he doesn't stand a chance by himself. You of all people should know that one organoid with a vendetta can't topple the Battle Commission, let along the people on this planet. He'd need help."

Epps closed the folder and turned off the recorder. He stood up and headed for the exit. "Then I hope to God you're right, Dr. Laon."