Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You lost. A small turn of your head signifies your displeasure paired with a quick exhale through the nostrils. A bit of a sore sport, you are, yet it's not the sport. It's the opponent.

"I'd say you just about had me. But that would put you on my level."

The voice directed at you from a few feet away holds a soft yet deep authoritarian flow, despite it being spoken through a tight jaw. It's obvious the distain laced within. You're used to it. It's understandable. Your history isn't exactly comfortable. You can't help but crook the corner of your mouth slightly upwards, your eyes shifting up to look at the other, letting out a small scoff.

"Can't have that, can we?"

Your voice rumbles in your chest, and is a direct reflection of the other man's vocals. Well, that is if it wasn't distorted, leaving you with a glitchy finish around the edge of your words. Your left side is bathed in a sickly green glow, the source being held in your hand. A round silver hilt protruding a long plasma blade that curves upwards at the tip, emanating a low electric mumble. The color clashes with your armor which sports a dark shade of violet with pink edges, white and silver accents. The glow matches with two spherical lights on your chest that pair with a diamond of the same color upon your forehead embedded in your helmet, which the armor piece itself shapes up into four points. The air blown about the large training room picks up little strands from the surface of your long, soft pink hair, whipping them around like earth worms trapped in a set of fingers.

Your, superior, if you will, is the exact image of you, except red armor. Yellow trim. White accents. Blond. Blue eyes.

Arian.

You chuckle at that thought. Though the thing is, he's not really the reflection of you, but the other way around. A mere shadow of him is what you are. He's beat it into your head for quite some time now, making sure you never forget. He's the original in every sense of the word. You don't take it personally, and instead make sure to grind your own words back into him every once in a while.

The blond doesn't give a reply to your last statement. He simply deactivates his own blade, which is an icy blue compared to your neon. The light dissipates and he pulls his arm up to click and snap the hilt back into place upon his back with a hiss of air following. He walks over to a screen next to the door, the metal of his armor clanking along the way. Placing his hand upon the surface he swipes upwards. The image displayed flies up into a holographic form, much larger than the touch screen of it's origin. Two boxes hold a percentage each within. 98% on the right. 95% on the left.

The left is yours. Only 5% away from perfect, according to the seminar. The 98% is the other's. Only three percent difference between the two of you. Could have been even or perhaps you could have hit top if the blond didn't play dirty by kicking you across the room at one point. There weren't any specific rules, so you bite your tongue. A wave from your counterpart at the hologram dismisses it and he begins to walk out. Never much of a talker, that one. Unless he's angry. With a brow like that, you'd think he's angry all the time. The door slides open and just as fast is shut behind him.

You deactivate your blade, following the same docking process for the hilt upon your back. You follow suit, heading out the door. It's only 6am. The sun should be just about finished rising. You hang a right once you exit making your way down the plain linoleum hallways. Other Reploids pass you and stare or at least snap their eyes to you for quick moments before looking away, some even quickening their pace as they walk. You've been held here in headquarters for research intent as well as containment purposes due to what you are.

The coldness is a familiar feeling. You may look like the red commander, but you aren't him. The only reason you were able to stay in HQ was because of a boy who you came to know through one of the other hunters. A human boy. Hair red as an apple, eyes the color of amber. He's best friends with Axl, one of the main hunters of the primary trio. Axl is a headstrong, playful and sometimes careless young Reploid with spiky ginger hair and emerald hues. You've come to very much enjoy both of these individuals' company from time to time. They're the only ones who've treated you with even an ounce of respect and consideration. You swear Axl and this human kid are just masters of persuasion. The pranksters. You find yourself feeling your eyes soften, lids half closed and lips bent up in a small smile.

Up a large set of spiral stairs a wall of windows meets you. Splotches of color sway on the ground with more falling from the sky. Flowers and leaves of the trees meet in an alluring dance with the wind. You push open a set of glass doors, exiting into the warm light of the late sunrise. The air still holds a small chill from the night. Though you can't feel it through your metal frame, you can just imagine it. You come to a reminiscent state of mind, recalling how you've asked your human friend before how things such as this feel.

"I don't know if this would be an easy question to answer, but..."

You had sat down next to your friend on the greenery, looking in the distance over the ocean just beyond the cliff you came out to. The red haired boy looked up at you from his relaxed position laid on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. You positioned yourself with one leg bent and your arm laid parallel upon your knee, the opposite hand behind you for support.

"What does this feel like?"

The boy raised a brow slightly and smiled a little.

"What do you mean? What does what feel like? You have to be more specific."

His voice was strong and level with a hint of playfulness. You opened your mouth a little to think, letting out a small hum in the process.

"The uh.. grass. The light."

You paused.

"The breeze."

The lad nodded, still looking at you intently. He laid out an arm to his side to run his partially gloved hand across the small green blades they relax upon. He rotated his head to look up at the sky, the clouds reflected in his golden eyes.

"Well, the grass, it's... kind of soft. A little cold. Texture is smooth. It tickles a little bit and can be kind of irritating. I used to burn it by accident when I was a kid. I.. burned a lot of things, without... meaning to."

He removed his hand from the grass to hold it in front of him. You spoke up with a tone like that of a kind father.

"You didn't have as much control back then, Pyro. Don't beat yourself up."

Pyro. The only name everyone knew him by. A kid with the powers of a Phoenix. He was found alone by the ruins of a Maverick outbreak. Buildings were reduced to rubble and the sky was black. That was when you first met him. He was just a child. You, yourself didn't have as much control back then, either.

Pyro sighs and brows furrow a little, but you were right.

"Yea. Anyways.."

He continued.

"The light I guess, feels like heat?"

His hand began to emanate a soft orange glow to which waves of the rising temperature began to show. A quiet hiss breathed out as flames begian to lick at his fingers, seemingly from nowhere. Then, his entire hand was engulfed with a bright fire.

"Like this but on a much calmer scale. It's not like the sun is this close, y'know?"

You nodded your head in understanding. The sun practically lives inside the boy. He's familiar with it's heat. And it's burden . The boy speaks again, in a bit of a quieter voice.

"As for the breeze... uh..."

Pyro paused, looking over at you.

"It's like a hug? From the air?"

The flame upon his hand goes out, leaving his fingers emanating with smoke for a short moment before he relaxes it upon his chest.

"I'm... sorry. I'm not sure this is helping you."

You looked over at him, reached over and patted him on the head, ruffling his hair. He grunted in annoyance, but ended up giggling.

"You did help. Thanks, kid."

Pyro sat up to adjust his hair and pick out the leaves from his thin ponytail which the length went down to his mid-back. You looked back out at the ocean, hearing the waves shift and watching the surface glisten.

Nature is one of the things you enjoy most, being you are a creature that was created against it. You walk on the sculpted stone pathway into the life sprouting around you. The glass doors slowly swing back closed behind you taking on your reflection as they sway. The few trees in the garden shuffle softly. One of them is a Sakura. However, it's not blooming. It's season has already passed this year. The air grows colder by the day, signaling winters approach. The garden soon will change to reflect the oncoming season. Colors will fade and the world will become monochrome.

Continuing down the direction of your choosing, you hear the soft sound of running water. The koi pond glimmers through the branches of a few small bushes that act like a little hedge, providing a little shade for the fish residing within. You kneel down at the pebbled rim, teal hues shifting from one fish to the next. Beautiful scales, each fish different in size and color. There's three total. A black with a white spot on it's head, a traditional orange, black and white, as well as a golden one. They drift by, occasionally getting close to the surface where they pop their lips above the water and splash about as if wishing to be fed.

There's a few individuals specified for the care of this area. It's very well kept and cherished by those in HQ. The fish are protected and fed, the rainbow of vegetation kept fresh and anything else the garden needs, it's done. On occasion, if you spot a weed or a small dead branch on a bush, you'll handle it. Plucking the weeds up by the roots, picking off the dead so the new can grow. You often come to the garden when no one else is there yet. The early hours of the morning, or the late hours of the night. The caretakers become a little unsettled with you around. After all, you are technically considered 'contagious.'

You fully sit down, one leg out and the other bent. You sit with your eyes closed for several minutes. Before you know it, a solid thirty minutes passes by. 6:42am, according to your internal clock. The bustle within the building has begun to pick up a little based upon the fact you hear gossip muffled through the windows looking out onto the outdoor garden like you're some kind of attraction. You've only been contained here for about a half a year so far, so this is still expected, though Axl has tried to calm it down. Though, a resident Maverick has in fact never happened, so no matter the amount of asking, this is how you expect it to remain for as long as you're here. Who knows how long that will truly be.

Your minds rambling is interrupted by the sharp sound of air being cut, almost like a little engine emanating from just beyond the glass fence at the border of the garden. You open your eyes and turn your head towards the sound. Suddenly, a figure zooms over the glass, letting out a small yelp as they try to land, but their foot gets caught in the dirt, sending them slamming down on their side with a clang. Your eyes widen a little and you adjust your body to face then while beginning to rise from your seat.

A bit of silence is followed by a small laugh from the other. A playful, young sounding voice like that of a teenage boy. You start noticing their features, dark navy blue armor with red stripes like a racing car, spiked ginger hair.

"Axl?"

You ask, your voice level.

The other laughs even harder as he hoists himself up, beginning to dust himself off, plucking grass out of his hinges. As he stands, two sharp wing like structures upon his back shrink up to disappear, except one of them gets a little stuck due to it being bent about halfway down. He spins on his heel to look at you with bright green eyes.

"Yo! Uhm, you totally saw that, huh?" Axl chuckles. "At least it wasn't Alia, she'd get after me for not using the landing deck. I would have! I just-" He pauses, reaching his hand behind him to feel the bend in his wing. "I couldn't exactly fly straight, I was practically sideways the whole time, dude."

You nod your head a little with a tiny smile on the corner of your lips.

"I can see that. You're back early, I'm guessing you handled that call pretty quickly."

Axl nods, still messing with his wing, trying to pull it back down against its resistance to do so.

"It, yea, it was a lot faster than I was expecting, to be honest-" He gives one big tug to no avail. "Ah, it... it's not good, Nightmare."

Your name is spoken, normal as if you're an old friend. Your brow raises in curiosity. The younger Reploid is often sent as a scout due to his ability to fly, his smaller size and speed. Not to mention his proficiency with his weapons of choice, dual pistols. He's a rough target if things get bad. You know he isn't allowed to tell you these things, but it seems he goes against that most of the time, even if brief and void of detail just so you aren't oblivious.

"It's gotten worse. I don't know how they were able to see me under the cover I had, but they were able to land a hit before I got away." Axl releases the damaged wing and sighs. "I have to go tell X and Zero."

He gives you a nod before taking off in a quick walk to enter the building, disappearing through the glass doors. The calls have gotten more and more frequent. Mavericks are popping up in several places, one after the other. Axl is just one of the several scouts that have been deployed recently. It's made sure of you typically overhear nothing about those missions, so all you know is what Axl implies.