Twila@M3 - Monday, December 20, 1999, 1:22 AM ---------------------------------------------
Rocky Mountains The rugged, harsh terrain of the Rocky Mountains extend from down below Mexico to as high up as Canada, separating the west from central North America. Though not the worst of the world's mountain ranges, the Rockies are indeed difficult to conquer nonetheless, covered by sharp drops, steep cliffs, and dangerous outcroppings which make it difficult to scale for most who are unaided. More often than not, those without special abilities will need to find one of the well-worn paths that weave through the safer valleys of the Rockies.
Within the state of Colorado, inside from the city limits of Colorado Springs, one of the parks finds itself occupied by few people at the precise moment. Odd for this time of day. But it's not too surprising. Although yet daylight, and although the snow would be tempting for any child under the age of 23 years to play within, the afternoon is late and dinnertime soon approaches for most. Still, it's not all. And certainly not for those who are from out-of-state. A lone woman actually wonders if she's also out-of-mind for being here as well. But a dear friend told her something that she had been thinking on deeply. And, perhaps being here would help her come to a decision. So, bundled up within her winter coat, ears protected by earmuffs, hands protected by gloves, feet protected by boots...that's what Twila Peterson hopes.
Somewhere high above, where the temperature is even that much colder than where those below currently occupy, two figures dart through the clouds at top speed, tendrils of cold mist being whisked away with the passing of their twin armored forms. One, the purple clad mechawolf, leans down in a sort of quasi-locked crouch, thrusters in his underbelly glowing powerfully and propelling him with ease through the air. Perched on his back, armored boots set perfectly into specially designed slots in Treble's back just for him, the Dark Knight leans forward, unfeeling of the incredible chill as frost forms on the edge of his armor. Eyes narrowed to mere slits, and the edge of his mouth pulled back into a near feral snarl, Bass shifts his gaze back and forth, then slowly downwards, eyeing the park far below. Slowly, his right hand clenches, into a trembling fist.....
Oblivious of the other visitors who are about to bestow their presence on the unsuspecting city, the girl continues on her stroll, mindful of where she is and which areas to stay within and what areas to avoid. Seems like she's been within this park before. And indeed she has. Memories of several years ago filter through and display themselves wistfully upon her features. Her pace slows by the frozen pond as she glances upon it's surface. Due to the sun's position within the sky the sun's light doesn't overly offer a glare on the frozen surface. At first she doesn't notice the sight which is reflected from above upon the chilled, unmoving waters...
Like a streaking comet from the heavens above, the duo scream downwards, their forms trailing mists of frozen moisture behind them. Bass growls as he kneels down that much further, placing one hand flat on Treble's head, as if to steady himself as the ground draws that much nearer....then, at the last moment....he leaps, as Treble pulls up.
Now free of his previous form of propulsion, the ebony clad figure streaks straight towards the pond itself, feet spaced ever so slightly apart, judging his approach, until with an almighty *CRAAACK* he sets down on the frozen surface, spiderwebs crackling in all directions upon his landing. One might have gotten a good look at him, if the ice didn't break just so suddenly with the invasion. And with not even a second having gone by, the frozen liquid gives way under the tremendous pressure and landing, and with a loud splash, Bass's form disappears from view just as rapidly as it arrived.
Treble meanwhile, disappears over the treeline. While he knows that his master's moods like this are not reserved for him....it still pays to keep a distance.
Twila Peterson was just about to turn and head on her way before an unidentifiable noise as well as a blur of...something streaks down towards, and then into the pond. The resulting impact is accompanied by the instantaneous and multiple sounds of splintering ice, which deposit its unwelcomed interloper within it's bowels, not really allowing either the young woman, or whatever few pedestrians there are, much of a glimpse of just who it is. Whoever or whatever it was...fell within near the middle of the lake. If it was indeed someone, not much time to be had before a rescue would not be needed. The girl takes a backwards step with an audible gulp as one of the park's patrons blinks at the sight and tries to get some kind of help.
Water thrashes about in a moment of boiled frenzy at the sudden, violent passage, then slowly, ever so slowly, begins to calm again. Gentle ripples lap at the edge of the sheared edges of the icy surface over the pond, and a dead quiet settles down on the scene, with no signs of movement whatsoever.....
Twila Peterson glances over to where the individual went to find him trying to explain the situation on his own personal cel-phone. How was she able to tell he was attempting to get help? Well, the cry, "Hold on...I'm gettin someone on this..." gave a pretty good indication. Not much can be done now except wait. A bare handful of others start heading over towards the pond as well if only to see what some of the ruckus was about. Meanwhile, the girl studies the ice and notes that the impact seems to have made...quite a large one. By what she notices the brittleness of the ice extends almost as close to where the borders of the water stand, if only absent of a few yards. "Oh, dear..."
The quiet that sets down is almost eerie, as the wind whistles gently across the pond's surface, enough to cause a gentle stir of the water when it reaches it, then brush across to the other side. If it weren't for the gaping hole....it would actually be considered peaceful.
This comes to an abrupt end.....
With a sudden sharp crack of ice splintering, and being punctured, something punches it's way through the frozen surface near the edge of the pond, five digits extending outwards through the holes they forcibly made, then tightening, crushing the ice somewhat in their grip. Ice coats the white-gloved fingers, though they appear no less inhibited as if they were operating in the dry air......
Hmmm....well, that cuts that particular patron's call for help short, or rather it should by the way he gaps, watching that hand as it brakes through the surface as if nothing were threatening to encase them. The phone slips through his fingers and falls quietly into the snow. Not far away the small crowd already gathering mutters gasps of disbelief and they collectively back away from the edge of the pond. Twila as well as one or two others, one of them being an android himself stay where they are. Mere seconds later the young android known simply as Clutch moves a step forward to offer a hand towards the unfortunate victim. "Careful," the young woman offers. Clutch gives crisp nod as he reaches for the hand. "Not to worry, Miss. But I suspect our friend may want to end his little bath," he replies.
The single hand waves freely for a few seconds, as if very well reaching for assistance from someone or other. As Clutch's own fingers slip into it's grasp, it tightens into place, grasping back. Even as the android begins to pull, starting to draw more of the hand out, black armored gauntlets are revealed for a few seconds. This, is then followed by a violent jerk of the limb, enough to haul the android bodily airborne, and THROUGH the ice as well, cracking it open and splintering it in all directions as froth builds up once again for a few seconds, then calms. A torrent of bubbles rise to the surface.......then nothing.
More gasps of disbelief are sounded as poor Clutch disappears underneath the surface. Ok, now it's time to get somewhat nervous. And, those gauntlets look awfully familiar. Twila gets a thought as if seeing those same gauntlets close enough to be uncomfortable...like when the hands attached to them were her neck. But it's a fleeting thought and may be simply a product of some vestige of paranoia right?
"What happened to that other junk heap?" "He was fell in, right?" "Looks to me more like he was tossed in..." And so the exclamations gather as one by one more steps are taken back.
Indeed a nervous shudder through those gathered is a wise course of action, although perhaps far, far too late right about now, as the water churns one last time, then -EXPLODES- outwards in all directions as a form tears into the air. As if suspended in slow motion, Bass reaches the pinnacle of his jump, legs extended as if having just propelled himself into a powerful leap. Clenched in his right hand, is the throat of poor Clutch, his hands feebly locked around the dark knight's wrist in an attempt to break his iron grip. Still caught in the peak of his jump, the ebony clad figure twists his torso to the side. With a violent snap of his arm, sends the other android careening helplessly through the air, to smash into the side of a parked car, ripping easily through it's frame and sending the entire vehicle skidding for a dozen feet.
Armored boots crunch into the snow as Bass lands in a quasi-crouch, his glare staring straight ahead, yet seeming to pierce into the souls of those very people present. Reflected in his red pupils, is something that even the one young woman who's stared face to face with this android has never seen before. Insanity, and fury on an entirely new scale....the type that turns him into a deadly opponent for the likes of anyone.....
Now, Bass is easily recognizable by almost anyone nowadays. I mean, almost every other night he can be seen on the news as the anchors report on the latest his and the other of the Robot Masters' misdeeds right? And since Bass is the Commander of Wily's forces..he would be most known. Not only for that however, but also for his unending lust for Megaman's death. And, this being the case, the crowd can do only one thing after the android is disposed of: They offer the Master a stare of stunned silence...right before they panic!! Twila herself gasps at the look seen within the Master's eyes and swallows rather hard before she decides it best if she vacate as well. The last meeting with Bass almost killed her...and he was actually somewhat sane then -- but, only if you can call an attempt to strangle a young woman for no reason at all sane.
Bass's eyes snap from side to side, as if watching each and every one of them as they retreat. Another individual, a reploid much akin to a large bear, scrambles through the snow, trying to get away. His only fate is sealed in the emergence of Bass' gleaming Neo-buster, which traverses around and unleashes a blast mercilessly in the robot's back, blowing straight out his front end and sealing his demise, the smoking remains crumpling to the ground. Slowly, the Dark Knight takes a step forward, traversing his aim to another parked car that a man scrambles to get inside. With a deafening *WHOOMP* he's convinced to instead hit the dirt, and is actually helped along by the shockwave of his vehicle exploding in a bright fireball, tumbling through the snow like a ragdoll.
Eyes aglint with the fury of such a show of power, and the knowledge that no one can stand in his way, Bass straightens up and throws his head to the sky, cackling madly. "RUN! Run you weaklings!" He bellows, a thin trail of spittle coming from the edge of his mouth. "Witness TRUE power! Can your precious defenders ever match this!? BWaaahahahaha!" Another shot, this time aimed behind him, goes straight into the pond, this time having the effect much like a depth charge as it blows freezing water high into the sky, and raining in all directions.
Twila Peterson cringes as the shots ring out behind her as she tries to find some cover as do a few who run along side her. Oh, terrific. He's a maniac now. And she thought he was dangerous before! She hopes someone notices the small disturbance somehow if only to try and calm this raging android/reploid/whatever he happens to be. But it doesn't matter much does it? Not the way he's acting. .oO(Rock certainly has his work cut out for him...)Oo.
Flames flicker from the remains of the car that fell to Bass' buster, as the ebony clad figure slowly, and with an eerie sense of calm begins to walk forward. In truth, there really isn't much cover here right now, at least not in the immediate vicinity of the pond. A flash of movement catches Bass' eyes again, as a pair of figures running through the nearby treeline to get out of sight is viewed. Eyes narrowing, the Dark Knight turns slightly to the side, aiming his buster casually at the trees.
"I don't think so..." he whispers darkly.
*WHOOOOMP!* The fireball that erupts from his cannon is enough to obliterate the trees, and send some of them flying violently away, flames trickling behind them. A thick pall of smoke descends on the area for a few moments, before finally one can hear the sounds of coughing within, and a small girl's voice.
"Mommy?? Mommy!"
Twila Peterson dives towards the snow in order to dodge some of the tree limbs forced within the air by the violent hand. She prods herself up, face paling at the wailing of the little child. Fearing what more Bass would do should he not be distracted or what not she blurts out, "Bass, stop!" as she gets herself back to her feet. Maybe not the wisest of choices to make. But the only one she readily comes up with.
Bass glares towards the sound of the child's voice, as if pondering whether to send another fireball in there or not. However, at the other voice, he jerks his head suddenly to the side, bringing his entire attention onto the redheaded frame. He actually stares with a lack of recognition for a few seconds, until it finally sets in. "You..." he breathes, taking a step forward, armored boot crunching in the snow, leaving a wet footprint in his wake to freeze later onwards. "You, the one who begins to even THINK of herself as a person capable of talking defiantly to me...." Another step forward is taken, his full glare on her frame. The curl of his snarl twitches now and then, as does his right eyebrow, further testament to his severe instability right now. "Perhaps....we should address that problem...right......now."
Ok, she's now got his attention and has it taken off the small girl. Only....now what? Unfortunately for Twila, she didn't think much further than that. "Um...must we?" she asks, taking a shaky step back as he advances. This does not look good.
"Why not..?" Bass croons gently, though his entire frame is like that of a tiger tensed ready to pounce on a hapless prey. He shifts his right hand up, as if moving it in full view and reminding her that there is indeed the destructive power of the buster still there, his glare centered on Twila's frame. "You wouldn't happen to be.....scared of me, would you?" he chuckles, now slowly shifting his weapon around, and actually leveling it in her direction. "Have you ever wondered what happens when a human has been directed to a direct blast of plasmic energy?" he croons, narrowing his eyes to mere slits. "They flash brightly for a few seconds, throw their heads back and scream, and then are left as nothing more than ash." He chuckles for a moment, as if finding great amusement in this. "Now I've often wondered, is the scream merely a reflex....? Or do they actually experience the pain of it a few seconds before they die? Perhaps.....you could tell me this..." A faint, ever so slight glow becomes visible deep inside his buster-arm, although it's difficult to tell if it's a trick of the light, or an actual glow.
Twila Peterson stands frozen as she...stares with widened eyes at the strange glow illuminating the tip of the Master's Buster, finding that she can't really voice much of a reply. She's been under the threat of death before. But there are also different kinds of death to be under the threat under as well. "I'd...rather not learn from personal experience, thanks," she manages when able. She closes her eyes, whispering something almost repeatedly, choosing not to look upon the sight as the Buster readies itself in case the action is fully intended.
Bass glares hard into Twila's eyes, as indeed the very realization that he -does- intend to do it begins to set in. "I don't believe.....you have a choice in the matter," he growls, the ball of energy building at the tip of his buster, on the verge of being unleashed.
It's then, that a blur from the side becomes visible, and something slams into the Dark Knight's side. Clutch, dripping wet, and his form badly damaged, managed to pull himself from the car wreckage, still functional. While not armored anywhere near the specs of a military reploid, at the sight of Twila in danger, he hurled himself unhesitatingly to protect her form from the ebony clad demon before her.
With a startled growl, Bass' aim is off, as his buster discharges. The shot whizzes by just over Twila's head, burning the air as it goes. Growling now, he turns about, with a mad shout. "YOU FOOL!" And with a crackle of energy and sparks, his blade extends from his buster arm as he back pedals, momentum from the blow wearing off.
Clutch turns his gaze towards Twila, gesturing wildly. "Get out of here! Run! I'll hold hi....AHHHHHHHHHGH!" The words from his throat must be his last, as the blade is sliced across his torso viciously, bringing out a shower of sparks and flame, the weapon easily cutting through the metal body and exposing wires and internals in a flash.
Twila Peterson's eyes flash back open at the moment the commotion begun. She darts to the side just mere moments from the fired shot to avoid being even grazed by the incoming ball of flames. Her petite frame is frozen but for a second until the android's final cry of concern for her safety is mentally grasped and propels her into seeking a source of safe haven or safety from this *monster*. The cruel slash that meets out Clutch's end rings rather loudly and painfully within her ears. Years ago she had been condition to scarcely bother with a mech that had met his end. Now knowing that one, a civilian no less, gave his life at a chance to save hers wounds her deeply. All she can do is try to pick up her pace so his sacrifice would not be in vain. "No...."
Bass watches as Clutch's frame tumbles to the ground, flames pouring from the horrible wound. A sense of calm sets down on Bass' features, as he glares at the fallen android, his energy blade crackling at his side gently. A few more moments pass, before he finally tilts his head, apparently glancing about himself for the first time. Gone is the insane glint that was in his eyes a few moments ago, apparently having been extinguished by the feel of actually tearing an opponent asunder with his might. It's enough to quench his thirst for another day. Slowly, the ebony clad figure turns back again, and as if on cue, a certain purple armored figure, flying on undercarriage jets approaches the scene from the treetops again, swooping low.
Shimmering his blade out of existence, Bass re-shifts his buster back into his hand, and leaps onto the mechawolf's back, crouching down slightly as Treble's powerful thrusters carry him into the air, winding around a thick column of smoke that lazily crawls into the sky, then disappearing into the clouds.
In the scene left behind, wrecked cars smoulder, the treeline burns faintly, and Clutch's frame lays back in the snow, slowly leaking fluids, smoke and sparks.....
Twila Peterson catches her breath as a sudden silence falls on the park scene. At the sound of jets she stops in time to see Bass take his leave. Strange, he seems to have gone as quickly as he first came. A hand raises itself to her chest as she tries to calm herself as she darts a maddened glance behind her, looking for the one who happened to exchange a life not many humans would have believed that he possessed. Her eyes immediately moisten at the sight of the android there lying within the now stained snow. Immediately after she hurries over and kneels at his side while her trained eyes examine the gut-wrenching wound. Something that horribly pains her. She lays a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. "I know some about repairs. I'll do what I can," she offers, voice shaken. Although, even if the girl hadn't been so trained within the field of mechaoid medicine, she still would have known the wounds appear fatal. They were inflicted too close to certain vital systems.
Clutch is one of those early generation androids who was given quite a human appearance, albeit for certain obvious facts that give hints to his mechanical nature. One would be his lack of eyes. But rather than eyes is a single optic visor across his upper face, now stained with blotches of his own fluids, and cracked horribly from the sheer impact of Bass' counterattack. As Twila nears by, his visor pulses gently for a moment, an occasional crackle heard from within it. "I..it's ok...." he struggles to speak, his gaping chest wound enough to reveal deep into his circuitry and components, damaged and horribly slashed beyond repair. Military androids tend to be equipped with extra systems and back-up features in the event of serious damage. But not so for civilians. A thin trickle of fluid begins down from the corner of Clutch's mouth, as he manages a very faint smile. "I'm j...just glad I stop...stopped him from hur..ting you." As by it's own accord, his hand is raised upwards, as if open palmed, caught there as he fell, but still laying easily within reach.
A tear rolls down the young woman's features as she grasps his hand firmly, offering it a gentle squeeze. "And I thank you for that. What---What's your name?" she asks him softly.
"Clutch..." he forces from his mouth, as the light in his visor dims somewhat, his own hand closing gently around hers at the gesture. "I..did..n't expect you...to come...back," he stutters, as blinking lights exposed in his internals begin to snap off-line one by one, testament to his failing critical systems. "Alw...ays told...that hu...mans didn...t....care bout....us..." The edge of his mouth then quirks upwards, an ever so small smile of satisfaction on his broken features. "But...I kne..w..that wasn't...what you all...were like...." A bubble of fresh fluid streams from his mouth, and he takes a moment before speaking again, the light from his visor almost completely out. "I'm glad...they were wrong.....I always....kne...w...s...somewh..ere...." his voice grows lower in volume, and lower, until barely even a whisper. "Th..an..k..you...." as the final word leaves his lips, it's drawn out with a long sigh, and finally, the light in his visor flickers, and disappears, his body slowly going limp....as do his fingers...
The young woman's hand trembles quite a bit as the last signs of life leave the android a dormant husk of nothing more that dead metal. However, the mechanoid was much more than merely wires and circuits to Twila. Slowly, she lowers Clutch's hand and places it over the less severely damaged portion of his chest before letting go. Then, if there had been any onlookers than she could readily see, they may have certainly been surprised in that she leans forward and offers the android's bashed and battered forehead a gentle kiss. "At least then," she softly chokes upon pulling back, "I was able to offer you a gift in return for your kindness." She stays there for a little while, not knowing what to do or say as others are drawn slowly back into the area...