Chapter Text
“We’re… alone?”
“Not quite.” Red’s voice echoed around the barren chamber. All that occupied the space were dozens of columns, rising out of the mist below. Two lone figures stood on pillars mere feet away from each other, faces clouded with mistrust barely strong enough to mask the overwhelming relief at knowing the other was still in one piece. “The professor could be anywhere. Even if he’s not in this very room, he has ears throughout this whole facility. We’re being monitored.”
“I’ll keep my guard up.” Axl shivered. Where was the ground beneath them? How far would he fall, if he fell, before shattering into a million pieces on the earth below? His gaze flicked back to Red. Better not to think about it.
The older reploid simply sighed, trying to pull himself from the void of his own thoughts. His scythe clicked softly against the top of his pillar. “I know you didn’t come here to talk, Axl.” The blade gleamed in the low light. “We should get this started.”
Axl’s hands dropped to his sides, pulling the twin pistols’ grips into his palms. He clung to them like a lifeline. “Y-yeah.” Fingers crept toward the triggers. “Probably should.” Lined the barrels up with Red’s head.
BANG!
His target was gone. Before Axl even had time to glance around, the lethally sharp blade of Red’s scythe slammed into his back, sending him flying headfirst into the bottomless abyss. It’s not time yet. This isn’t the end. With barely a moment to spare, Axl’s thrusters kicked in, propelling him just high enough to get his feet on the edge of a low pillar. This wasn’t safe, however; if he didn’t keep moving, Red could easily pinpoint his location and knock him off again with ease. He dashed to the edge of the pillar and jumped to the closest one in sight, blindly sending a few bullets behind him upon landing. Two telltale tnk! s indicated that his intuition was spot-on.
“Always were a quick learner, weren’t you, Axl?”
The voice was right next to him. In a panic, Axl dashed to another column, struggling to keep his balance. He chanced a look over his shoulder. Instead of the expected, narrowly avoided scythe to the face, Axl was confronted with the sight of Red raising his weapon above his head, twirling it around and around in some sort of mad dance. Where did he pick up techniques like this? Axl was already being lifted off of his feet in a conjured cyclone before the obvious answer seared his mind. The professor. Of course. The wind dropped him down right into the arc of another of Red’s slashes. Too much more of this and Axl was toast. His small, lightweight body wasn’t suited for taking such high powered hits, core already straining with the energy required to keep him moving after nearly being sliced in half by the first of Red’s attacks. A third or maybe fourth solid shot would be the nail in the coffin. He needed to get serious.
Considering that his bullets barely left a dent in Red’s armor, it was clear that something with a bit more firepower was necessary to start turning the tide in a favorable direction. G-Launcher it was, then. He activated his weapons system while leaping away from Red’s next attack, feeling the individual pieces of his pistols meld together into a new configuration in his hands. Jump, jump, look for an opening, send a shot behind himself when landing solidly on a column. Boom.
“Nngh!”
Bullseye. Never would he have thought that hearing his mentor’s pained grunt would be a victory, if a begrudging one, but it was. Somehow, it was easier to stomach if he pretended that they were sparring, just like the old days. When landing a single blow on Red was the entire goal of the practice, and when Red hit him back it was with a blunt stick. The scythe was his Maverick weapon. He wasn’t supposed to raise it against the innocent, against civilians, or against his fami- Axl’s finger pulled the trigger.
Boom!
No time to be thinking like that. Red was Maverick now. He was the rabid dog that needed to be put down for its own good.
Axl let off another shot. This time, it whizzed past Red’s form and disappeared into the mists. Axl might be a quick learner, but his mentor was too. His launcher was powerful but slow. He’d need to start timing his shots to line up with Red’s attacks rather than relying on a weapon that Red wasn’t familiar with to land a few surprise hits. He acted on the defensive, dodging blow after blow and leaping away just in the nick of time to keep his head attached to his torso.
When Red raised his scythe heavensward again, Axl was ready. A breeze tickled at his boots, but the sensation was useful this time, guiding him to safety on an untargeted column as gale-force winds engulfed his prior perch. He was able to land two explosive shots on Red before his foe could recover, though the third that he loosed Red’s way hit nothing but his shadow, leaving Axl startlingly open. It was only by a miracle that he wasn’t struck by the inevitable retaliatory blow.
Several exchanges later, Axl realized in growing horror that he wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever. His core was beginning to warm. His cooling systems were expelling heat as quickly as they could. Axl peered back at his opponent.
Red was still slashing at an unrelenting pace, but each pass was becoming more forceful, less focused on maintaining his impeccable accuracy towards weak points and more on simply trying to hit Axl at all. His crimson armor was greyed and dented where the G-Launcher had left its marks. Red was wearing down, too.
Axl still had a chance. Time to mix things up.
With renewed vigor, the lithe reploid hurled himself directly at Red, relying on the sudden shift from their established song and dance to throw his mentor off guard. This was a risk he had to take. For X. For Zero. For the family that he’d lost to the machinations of a shadowy figure’s sick war mongering.
Red was completely unprepared for Axl to latch onto his chest, one arm around his neck, and the other pulling the trigger of the weapon, firing at point-blank range.
Boom.
Twin cries of agony rang out through the chamber, one almost a squeal and the other a guttural groan. The figures fell.
Red clattered to his knees, his breastplate cracked and smoking. Some nameless dark liquid dripped onto the floor from his wounds. Axl had barely been able to activate his boosters in the midst of his mutual immolation, though in his near success was able to put the gap of a pillar in between himself and Red. He was heaving on the ground, his own armor covered in fractures from the force of the blast. He looked up at the sound of soft chuckling.
“The Hunters did you some good, eh?” Red’s toothy grin met his gaze. “I thought they might. Seemed cruel to keep a little bird all cooped up when there is so much world out there to explore.” As quickly as it had appeared, Red’s smile faded. “You fought hard. Brought me closer to a total offline than anyone has before. But I need you to come back with me.”
Axl froze for a split second before scrabbling to his feet, eyes darting around as he frantically searched for his gun. He whirled around to see a ghostly clone of Red dragging it across the column, just out of his reach.
“Red, what the hell-”
“Learned a few new tricks.” He could feel Red’s vents exuding heat onto his back. “I’ll make it quick.” The tip of Red’s scythe cut into the base of his neck with surgical precision, severing a vital power cable through layers of silicone and metal. Axl’s systems immediately began shutting down to preserve themselves; alerts began flashing blurrily in his faltering consciousness.
A voice, Red’s voice, cleaved through the blanket of darkness as he was pulled under.
“Let’s go home.”