{ Endlessly Spinning }

"Sure, I'll take the one closer to headquarters, then." A lazy thumbs up is offered for his Commander's conclusion, no sign of complaints here. In Vile's own estimate, he's just been assigned the more likely location after all. Saves me the trouble of having to argue with you.

If his alternate is truly as brazen as he appears to be, it wouldn't be the least bit surprising if he aimed to take down several Maverick Hunters somewhere down the line. A dangerous, unstable element with even more unreasonable firepower-- and now they know for sure he has connections to someone bigger.

Easier to scope out the enemy from that Armatronics factory, and if I were him I'd be doing some recon about now... a thought which goes coincidentally unmentioned to his boss.

The sooner he's dealt with, the better.

"Guess I better get on it, huh boss? Time's a-wasting." Eager to see this particular chapter closed, Vi offers his superior officer a two fingered salute.

"Seeya later," followed by the immediate flash of a warp signal. Best not to hang around and wait for Zain to realize what just happened.

On the other end of the coordinates, the exterior of the factory is as expected. Tall security fencing lines the perimeter, although Vi doesn't bother to make a full circle around it. The remaining skeleton of automated security reads his digital ID, and opens the way without ceremony.

His fingers clench at his side, the crinkle of fabric his only companion in the empty room. Unease, at letting the purple Hunter chase after his double without backup. It was for good reason that he wasn't there with the reploid, as his optics sweep over the scuffed floors before disappearing into his own beam of energy.

Regardless of their destination, there was information to be gathered. Little threads for them to tug until the wool over their eyes would unravel. It's a sort of sixth-sense trained over years of fighting that tells him their problems wouldn't end with the rogue machine they'd been tracking.

Unlike his companion though, his signature in the facility is met with alerts in his hud, the UI warning him to turn back, trespassing on private property, the usual. Unsurprising that Armatronics' facility wouldn't have been kept offline. Zain dismisses it like his hand waving away an annoying insect, focus sharpening at the whirring of the automated security system turning online.

Oh good. It's never easy.

------------

Roughly eight minutes later, and a series of sparking electronics he'd have to pay to replace, and the blond is standing before a set of darkened terminals. He lifts his palm to his transeiver as one of the terminals flickered online, a ping sent to Vile's direct messaging.

Without you, everything collapsed. And yet, and yet...

"...I... would say that." Yes, but he'd always meant those New Gods. The ones that lorded above everyone, the ones that treated human lives as entertainment. Or perhaps, he'd only meant that in this life. A strange but familiar sensation settles in his chest. The mournful fury of grief, comforting in its normalcy.

"We are living..." surviving. "...but that place..." it is not whole without you. Without those that shaped the world, what remains is frail and dying.

"...is there... no way to return?" No process to piece together what had been broken? He starts to raise a hand, to reach out-- but pauses in the motion. This desperation for what is already lost will not change his fate. That path was set long before this meeting, perhaps long before he was born to this lifetime.

Even she couldn't change what had already come to pass, not without repercussions.

Even now, it's hard to understand why he'd been placed there. To gain a partner? To ease his burden from the management of souls, to go from that to simply... Death? Hard to remember what had come before, if anything. That simple existence was fracturing to himself, at least had felt that way, to be the cause of an ending simply for existing.

And yet it was impossible to think of any other way to exist.

No different than the man staring up at him. Ah... There, that might have been... "If it had been possible, I would have." His role was an important one, after all. "But I did not abandon you," even if his presence was not physical. "As was said before, we are not strangers." I will always be by your side.

Grey eyes look to the Mortal, then past him-- through him-- to the countless hands holding him down, holding him up. Waiting, baited breath. Rebirth, then? Death refrains, despite the wish to hold the human's face in his hands. To answer simply...?

"Yes, Exalted One," she whispers. He has not commanded her to keep her voice soft; it is instinct, set in by the darkness looming past the trees. She should not draw attention to herself, lest she encourage those that lurk beyond to call her closer.

And yet call they do, all the same. She hears whispers behind them, daring her to steal a peek. She shivers. It is cold, yet colder. The more she walks with the God, the more it feels like the numbness grows, and her breath clouds the air with every exhale and leaves tingles on her cheeks where it cools. Yet the God is patient, matching strides with her despite being so large, and she so small.

Warmth emanates, suddenly, to her right; she knows she shouldn't turn her head and yet she does, can't help but turn, nearly stopping in her tracks at the sight of cerulean eyes.

"...My Lord..."

But she does not have a Lord. She has a Lady, her dearly beloved little Bailu, not a Lord. So then, who...?

Inky black hair drips down his crown and splatters against the snow, staining it. Antlers forming twisted spires stretch seemingly on and on into the sky, a terrible dragon, a beast, an Abomination, and the image of Dan Feng -- yes, it is Dan Feng, her predecessor's Lord (in this strange place where time does not exist, she recognizes him as if he were her own), melts and stretches into elongated jaws with rows and rows of snaggled teeth and eyes that weep crimson tears.

Yingyue, help me... It hurts, it HURTS......

She flinches, instinctively gripping Morozko's claws tighter and allowing herself to be pulled along, ignoring the way the numbness of her hands turns to an uncomfortable and frosty burning. The monster creeps closer, collapsing in on itself and building itself back up, dripping and spilling onto the snow.

Such things were never so brazen to approach when he was alone, avoidant of their natural predator, their cull. But when he was with company... It was as if the hunger was more motivating than a continued existence. Not surprising, as such things did not feel the way those with souls did.

She shivers, plumes of breath escaping her lungs in the frigid environment-- next to him. Inevitable, slow, freezing. But the Deity only turns his gaze to follow hers when she slows and speaks quietly into the night. What sharp, red eyes find is a being that can't even hold its shape, too empty to mimic that of a power greater than its own. Moans of faux agony that don't actually amount to anything, while simply screams to him, became words to her.

Nightmarish instead of beckoning. Was that luck, or something else?

"It is natural to fear." Morozko's voice was calm, even as his fangs part in a static hiss not unlike ice meeting hot air. Once again he is reminded of how small she is, her fingers red with the cold of his own skin as the living Vidyadhara clutches onto him harder. "You are alive."

As the amalgam lurches closer, his rumble permeates the air, rattles the frost on the trees. There's no fanfare, no motion to prepare for the abruptness of the spikes of ice that burst from the snow, impaling their pursuer. It wails, an inhuman, keening sound that causes the nearest icicles to break from their perches on branches.

...and.... it isn't like Psi was mad at him, really. Although it'd come off that way at the time, the benefit of hindsight paints a different picture. You're worried. Enough to go out of your way to involve yourself. Something they'd both hoped to avoid for the last several years.

"We'll have to make the best of it then~! Who knows the next time our schedules will line up," AKA the next time the medic would have more than a few free moments.

As they walk, and his brother speaks, Xanti can't help but laugh a little. "Are you sure we're not just hanging out to hang out?" With a stop like that, it's hard to be worried about anything.

"....orrrr are you planning on getting a little gift for your boyfriend before we get to work?" Is Verse even the type of person who can appreciate sentimental stuff like that? Then again maybe the value is more in the giving. He waves to a few of the staff as they wander by, before they choose an unoccupied warp pad.

Denied playfully as they step on the pad and he elbows his alternate in the arm. "You're saying this is gonna be fun?" His grin was bright, calm. The coordinates are pinged into the terminal, the base of it flashing to show the destination had been set. "And here I thought you were gonna be more serious about this."

He laughs. "I can multitask! Death defying feats and snagging gifts shouldn't be a separate thing." Not that such feats were going to happen, hopefully. There wasn't exactly a reason why the place would have been converted into a fortress when the events hadn't come to pass yet.

A thumbs-up was given to the Navigator manning the pad, and then his vision distorts as they were pinged into cyberspace, the tell-tale flash of light giving away seconds later to a bright blue sky and red towers. Psi stretches, intaking the crisp early spring air.

Oh yeah. This is way more beautiful when it's not littered with weaponry.

Fun to visit a western style castle, with its stone walls and crimson spires. There was a number of glass artwork and mirrors placed around the exterior, a direct reference to the Institute's main subject of study. He's already walking through the iron gates, paying no mind to those passing by him, busy with their own lives.

"...activated on site I'm afraid," his first memories outside of a few minor tests were indeed of Maverick Hunter headquarters.

"Armatronics had a few different facilities," evident in the files he'd pinged over. "I don't know off the top of my head which one produced me," his exaggerated shrug is as much of an answer as he can provide. "...but they weren't exactly a small company." Couldn't be, if they'd landed the contract to build Vi himself in the first place. "Might be somewhere in my personnel file," comes the light suggestion.

Seems like the trivial sort of thing Sigma would've tracked.

"Makes sense to check the factory line closest to HQ first, for info on my build..." ...and therefore their missing Vile unit. "Can't imagine there'd be much point in shipping my dumb ass from a long ways away." Especially if they were already capable of producing reploids nearby.

Not a small company indeed, over twenty locations worldwide; just enough to be an inconvenience. "...Right." Idly agreed, simply to show he was following along still, and not distracted. //Never easy, is it?//

There was the factory closest to Meridian, on the other side of the Central Highway. Certainly one of the biggest nearby, a flagship location, utilizing its proximity to the highway as a way to send out goods constantly from the assembly line. Multiple access points, on the ground level and on the roof, multiple loading docks and an entrance to one of Abel City's harbors.

Problematic if the rogue reploid was there, if only because there was way too many escape routes. On the other hand, because it was so close to a freeway meant likely it had been already cleared out of any useful machinery and tools since it was easier to get to.

Then there was the factory closer to the Hunter Headquarters. Not as close to Meridian Center, but it had part of HQ within its line of sight on the East side. Being closer to them meant the likelihood of parts and weapons that could have been utilized during the timeframe the prior Commander was in charge.

But likely most of those things would have been neutralized in one way or another so they didn't pose a threat to the world's main line of defense against Maverick activity.

In the end, both locations were likely targets.

After a moment of silence, the Vamploid makes his decision.

Mine.

An unflinching declaration moments prior from the Infernal, now met with unfettered anxiety from his precious one. That too is his doing, for allowing possessiveness to slip past his teeth. Always wanting, and wanting, and wanting….

Taking to fill that bottomless void in his empty chest.

Vesper’s fist bounces lightly off his torso, pooling Volt’s attention back on their physical reality. Pitch claws finally, finally retract as that voice reaches him, palms still resting firm on the mortal’s sides. Incapable of handling his prize with care, but far too selfish to relent even now.

Flames of fury cannibalize themselves in the wrathful ouroboros of what might pass for his soul. Drunk on far more than blood or wine, revealing a dreadful truth that mortals so loathed. Voluntas, little more than a marionette guided by the whims of his own onerous emotions. No amount of regalia, of charm, of sophistication will ever make him more than this. A ruse that had driven Vesperling to the brink, that divorced their roles from reality.

I am not what you want.

Yet, his arms move, reflexively clutching the human closer. Compassionate or covetous, what does it matter if the outcome is the same?

“I will never let go of you.” Not meant to comfort, no. The mere admittance of obsession. “Even if our contract burns, I will take what belongs to me,” announced quietly, as he squeezes the treasure in his embrace. I would tear the realms asunder if it meant keeping you by my side. “…whether you want it or not,” an echo from minutes prior. A reminder, of what lurks beneath the surface of this choice.

Vesper already knew that answer.

Shame burns like ice on the back of his neck, for falling apart, for scraping the surface of his own glacier of weaknesses, for upsetting his friend-- his crush, for, for, for... It's an unending anxiety that can't stop the tears flowing from his eyes, or his breath from hitching with each passing second.

Does he even want the Infernal to say something? The fear of rejection now that his argument was presented, self-destructive words having finally been presented-- and it wasn't even all of them-- and yet he can't decide what's worse. To be accepted without the understanding, with him using the Demon as company? Or, to be denied with Voluntas finally dropping him the same way past friends had?

It would be deserved.

Claws shift, and the Summoner waits for the fall, only to flinch at the way he's crushed against his Familiar's chest. This affection, regardless of whether it was that or obsession, was undeserved.

Never.

You can't mean that. No. You shouldn't waste your time on me.

Whether he wants it or not, the obvious answer hovers in the air. Of course he wanted the Infernal to desire his company, for their friendship-- any relationship-- to be legitimate. Would you have even given me a second glance if I hadn't made you be here? Logically, the affection wasn't forced, but it had been presented with his soul like a carrot on a string.

Something so easy to obtain, just the length of time as the only obstacle.

A shared curiosity tied them together, however temporary.

Sable plops down, his long tail mirroring the dragon's own as it falls over the cot's side in smoky waves. "You know how to use wards? I should've seen that comin'," a small laugh. Eve is certainly casual about all the things that make mortals nervous. Of course, by now it's obvious he can see all of them, not just the brothers guarding a long overgrown gravesite.

Rain dances on the canopy above them, quiet white noise separating them from everything else lurking just out of sight. "Soleana? Yeah, heard of it but... never visited when I was alive." Sable takes another sip, before resting his chin in his free hand.

"City ghosts are somethin' else. Not close-knit like us out here." Even the spirits not under their care minded their business in these woods. Everything here was old and enduring, the balance rarely shaken. With so many souls in tight quarters, he'd come to understand that modern day cities were chaos for living and dead alike.

"In the sky? Imagine that..." technology and time, ever marching in lockstep. Countless innovations none of them would ever witness, bound to where their bodies rest. "It sounds beautiful..." he's wistful, tilting the cider in the dragon's direction. Taste it for yourself, implied but unspoken. "It must be nice, travelin' like ya do. The world keeps on changin', but so do you."

Even still, there is a... quiet tragedy that accompanies their surroundings. Desolate and forgotten, left to rot because of superstitious fear. The twins were guarding a wave of souls, the same that eagerly circled under his shared seat next to Sable. It was not just the canines that yearned for tales past their bound space. Hard not to pity their stagnation. Hard not to be concerned for their well-being.

There's a hand raised in polite decline for the drink. Thank you, but it was a gift for you, seems to be the silent response. Better to savor that which was seldom had-- he knew what it was like to not have it. Avem's tail swayed gently. "I suppose that's true," is agreed, his eyes closing for a moment, ears listening to the sound of rain, and the murmur of the dead. He chuckles to himself, pulling the furred collar of his jacket up higher. "Though you give me too much credit. I think the only thing that evolves for me is my taste in fashion."

"...But I no longer have a home to return to." From the sound of his own voice, it was clear that the absence of stability was something he'd grown used to, a fact of life. A slight smile quirks up the dragon's muzzle. "And it's not like I'm ever really by myself." His current companions were a testament to that.

For them, though, he could see the worry. So many tales of spirits that had spun into madness due to their isolation. That must be why...

The last of his loaf is finished off, forked tongue swiping the crumbs off of his fingertips. "As for Soleana..." Eve fishes out a small device from his bag. It flickers to life, brandishing a date and time, unlocking once he swiped a pattern over its surface-- a phone. "Would you like to see? I usually like to take a few pictures as keepsakes." A photo gallery is pulled up, and dozens of images fill the screen.

Kind of ironic that if I didn't try to shoot you, we'd probably still hate each other.

Thoughtfully, the purple reploid rolls the weapon core around in his fingers, cross-referencing it against all the models he knows. He hadn't recognized it at a glance, but maybe with some observation here, and material tests at the HQ... he could narrow down a list of arms dealers that might have made this prototype.

"We did," a nod of agreement, as Vi turns to add their newest find to the other evidence they'd exhumed from this place. A mess of carefully organized wires, tools, and spare parts. "Shame we didn't do a more thorough job." Then again, he also wouldn't have let a little stabbing stop him.

"...really?" Surprise intoned from beneath his unmoving helmet. "Guess that's one way we're different. Always worry that an upgrade will turn out to be a downgrade." Zain well knew the reason for Vi's own trepidation. "Have to be selective, you know?" Although it wasn't hard to picture being more adventurous about buying new parts in another life.

"...mm... yeah, actually." There's a ping of information to the Zero. Coordinates, dates, articles. "They didn't go defunct too long ago, so odds are good there may still be inventory on the factory floor, or at least some machinery in tact..." he shrugs, more than willing to try even this thin lead.

Staring at the pile of mismatched parts makes the blond frown as the folder is sent to him directly. They defocus slightly as he shifts his attention to them fully. Just like every other thing Vi took seriously, they were meticulously organized.

Armatronics, huh? A reploid manufacturer, defunct now. Their parent company-- Trigger Technologies. Went under due to the majority of the reploids that had been made going rogue, suffering from a variety of malfunctions. While the business had briefly benefited from selling weaponry to combat the rise in their machines' Maverickism, it had still collapsed under the weight of far too many lawsuits.

What was left had been bought up by LensCore, and liquidated, but because of the collapse having happened within the last two and a half years, many of their buildings hadn't been demolished as much as gone dark. Ultimately, still a decently sized list of factories to sift through.

"We should split up to cover more ground, unless..." Strange, he'd never thought to ask him where he'd come from, but... that Maverick's and Vi's creators hopefully were one and the same. "...Do you know which one you came from?" Maybe, unless the first time he'd been activated was on Hunter property.

Vile moves to help his commander sort through the other boxes and supplies in the storage area. Staging a place for all the evidence they would no doubt be returning to base with.

So strange, to be included in sensitive investigative work. The duty of any high ranking Hunter, and yet after so many years of being seen as unstable... it still feels unreal. No longer the untrustworthy loose cannon relegated to the front lines.

The comment catches Vi off guard as he turns to examine their latest find. "You have...?" It doesn't match any weapon core he knows, which means it isn't on the market. "Can't say I recognize it, boss." How deep were those connections? Or how long had this plot been in motion...? It wasn't strange for most of the parts to be repurposed from civilian purposes, but this?

A wince under the helmet as his cohort continues. "...that's my fault sir." Costing them precious information by reacting too swiftly in the moment. Approaching, he offers a hand, silently offering to inspect the weapon part. Tracking down where the prototype was produced would take time, but it is only one of so many loose threads.

It was simply the correct choice of action.

But knowing that some of the materials for the frankensteined Goliath were stolen instead of bought or commissioned... Made things harder. Especially because many of those pieces that were now fried beyond recognition during the mech's destruction. Not to mention how many Mavericks had already been decommissioned before they could have ever been interrogated.

Even though it was standard to keep their memory chips, that was still hundreds, thousands to sift through. How many things for this group specifically, considering each Maverick collection wasn't necessarily connected to another? Reaching a conclusion wasn't impossible, it would just take longer than it already had been.

Zain pushes himself to his feet, the heels of his boots planting firmly on the linoleum floor.

"Right." That Maverick, under the assumption he survived-- and he did, considering the lack of a body-- would have had to have gone somewhere. And for whatever reason, he'd convinced this group of terrorists that he was necessary for their plot. Never meant anything good when Vile was willing to work with others, not anymore.

Slowly, the blond paces the room, eyes scanning over the freight-elevator, then to the door, then back out to the broken conference room and the charred flooring. "We carved him up fairly good." Which meant at the minimum a compromised chassis. "He... was never against upgrading himself, but hated when others did it." Which meant he wouldn't be seeking help.

Multicolored blue traveled to his partner, the purple helmet looking expectantly at him...

...not that it's too far off from the truth apparently, if they'll have to dig.

"So there's just... random enhancements scattered around the world for me?" It sounds a bit absurd, judging by the expression on the medic's face as he follows the other android towards the door.

"You'd think he would've given us access to that information preemptively..." Or, maybe Light had, but the data was been lost or overwritten at some point between then and that 100 year slumber. A small sigh for the thought, although he brightens at the sight of the other X's grin.

"I do always complain about never going sightseeing after missions." How quickly they always returned to HQ after it all. Ah, how he longed for a proper vacation alongside all that travel for work.

No way to get that answer now, just guessing into the void.

Seeing his brother's expression lighten has it effects, as if they were going to go for fun instead of out of necessity. Maybe there was some positive tone there-- like Xanti, most places he'd gone were because he had to, for the mission. It would be interesting to go when there was no emergency to deal with.

"Probably!" And if there were any obstacles they'd have, they would deal with it when they got there. "You know I don't mind chilling." And ignoring the looming reason why he was putting in any effort at all.

They head towards the transportation bay-- not because clearance was needed to leave, but so they had an easier jumping off point. "First stop: the Laser Institute inside the East branch of the Russian Academy of Sciences." He'd have to grab a souvenir for sure-- something to bring back to Verse as an apology.

"W-well sure, there's other people... but never enough hands, yanno?" Even with someone like Zoel for an assistant. This hardly qualifies as an excuse right now, and they both know that, too. No immediate crisis? No need for Xanti to stay, and if he asked his colleagues for permission, they'd be just as fast to shoo him out the door as Psi.

"Ah... you do?" That would make this slightly easier, but also was another point counted against the medic's wishes. "Right... that doesn't sound.... too bad...?" Kinda? It's very apparent there will be no dissuading the other DLN when he's come all this way. So it is the younger of the android's shoulders slump.

"You know I always enjoy spending time with you," despite the reluctance born from feeling like he was in trouble. Maybe this would smooth things over between them?

Defeated, but mustering a small smile, the medic relents. "Let me just ping a few folks..." standing, he stretches his arms before meeting his sibling's gaze. A few notifications sent out, primarily to Zain and the med bay staff.

And while even human siblings fought, the fact that he was here was testament to the fact he'd throw a lot down for the other android.

Fingers tap against the sleeve of the traditionally blue graphic tee he wore, patient enough to let the other X alert whoever he wanted of their impending departure. When they finally lock eyes, he pushes off of the desk and heads for the door.

"I said before there were capsules." It feels strange that he has to explain them, but since the medic had been equipped with a buster... "If the Dr. Light of my time had made those," and there were a lot of them, "odds are that yours did too." Psi folds his arms behind his head with a sigh.

You'd think that at least one of those capsules would have been found by now. Guess they didn't show up until they were needed. Or maybe when he was within the vicinity of one. He'd never thought to find out.

"The plan is to find and sync you up with the Falcon Armor specifically." A personal favorite. "I put a lot of time into thinking which one would benefit you more." It wasn't meant for close combat, but had a few handy tricks up its sleeve. "But it's not like it's in one place-- The pods are separated into parts, probably to add another level of security."

Neither of them wade into the topic any further, can't afford to drift now.

Attention changing to the storage supplies his superior opted to inspect, the purple clad hunter can't help but laugh at the absurd question. "Commander, I don't need to sleep. I'd only be as quick as the shipments allowed." Any delays there could have put a wrench in the works.... but if someone could afford to buy out staff members at Meridian Center, money is no obstacle. Must pay good too, since there were no leaks or rumors before hand.

"Got that stuff mapped out about as cleanly as..." he slows, optics registering the wiring in Zain's hands. "...the front runner's info... in my... brain." Arms crossing, he can't help but scoff. "Nonstandard... sure." It matched the other parts he'd seen while inspecting the mech wreck at HQ-- in that none of it went together. I don't know if I'm impressed or offended at this guy's handiwork.

"Guarantee those cables were part of his test kit. There's a reason they were left behind." Because they weren't good enough for the output needed. "...I can already tell you that his Goliath was a completely custom job. What parts remained intact come from different companies. You can't just purchase military hardware like that." Even getting it illegally could leave a trail of buyers because of the serial numbers engraved on each and every component.

"At best, there's a collector's market for hollowed out frames," Vi adds after a moment, clearly knowing from some experience. Not that the S-rank has the budget to own something like that for fun.

But the Commander turns back to the boxes as his subordinate talked, seeking out more evidence. A custom. Figures, because there was no way to simply acquire tech of that magnitude. To be able to rig a cannon from car parts was just something that was in the Maverick's skill set. The Zero recalls the machine attempting to blast through him and several very important emissaries.

"...Most of the frame." In hindsight, it was clear that some of the mech was nonstandard, but he hadn't been in a space to pay attention at the time.

Slowly, a growing pile of gear and tools are picked out, materials not meant for any sort of show a convention center would be supplying. Not unless they wanted to blow a hole in their roof. Which had already been done. Zain holds up a dim energy core, not unlike one that could have been found in the average plasma rifle, but this one was--

Experimental. "I've... seen this." Where? Cross-referencing the image with his memories, only to find nothing. Where...? All files, filtered as he rolled the part in hand with a frown. And then closes his fist, multicolored eyes widening at the decrypted folder that had been highlighted.