All was quiet in the sewers. Chasseurs lay strewn about, with various wounds and punctures cruelly accentuating vital parts of their bodies. Among them lay Vince Diamond, a gaping hole in his chest where the Nephrite's Nazaroth ripped its way through at point blank range akin to the force of a freight train smashing through a mere brick wall. Suddenly, Vince sprang to life, springing to an erect sitting postion, screaming a scream of a man from out of a nightmare. Light returned to the filaments in his cybernetic eye, as he surveyed the destruction around him. It took him a few seconds for his mind to recover from the battle that seemed like seconds ago. The situation was grim, his entire unit had been eraditacated, and he had come close, being left for dead by a Nephrite either too stupid to finish him off properly, or one with other agendas. He looked around at his fallen comrades. They had all fought bravely. But now, they lay around, with twisted metal protruding from torn flesh. A mixture of their life-fluids, blood and bio-chemicals mixed together, painting the sewer water an even uglier shade of green. Suddenly, it hit him: Cyril!!!
- After what seemed like an eternity of searching the seemingly endless Martian sewer system, Vince found what he was looking for. It was Cyril, lying domant in the muck. He was face-down, even though he didn't have much of a face left. There were no other troops about. The cowardly Shock Troops must have melded into the shadows at the first sign of trouble.
- "Cyril . . ." Vince muttered. His eyes burned where there used to be tear ducts. He knew that there was supposed to be emotion here, there was supposed to be feeling over losing this mentor. But these feelings, much like his tear ducts, had been removed long ago, and the most he could do was remember what it was like to once have feelings, and try to dwell on that. He would return to the Cybertronic Embassy to give his closest friend a proper burial.
- Random th oughts drifted through Vince's head on this trek homewards. During these "down-times" Vince enjoyed thinking, although he was not really good at it. Nonetheless, he was amused at these fleeting notions that went through his mind at times like these. They rarely held any significance or link to each other, but nonetheless, Vince enjoyed thinking him. Right now, he thought it interesting that Cybertronic didn't have a planet wholly to call its own. It basically confined itself to colonies of embassies on other people's planets. In this way, it was kind of like a parasite. This notion didn't please Vince at all.
- He arrived at the Cybertronic embassy, carrying Cyril's limp body like a mother craddling her sick infant. He passed through the various sercurity perimeters and inner corridors on his way to the main intelligence room. The higher up in the Corporation would have to know of the death of one of their finest! As soon as the door to the Intelligence Room opened, Vince was shocked to see none other than Cyril Dent standing in front of him, very alive, the usual look of stern criticism plastered on his face. Vince nearly dropped the body in his arms.
- "But I thought you were dead?" Vince slurred.
- "Do I look dead, Vincent?" Cyril addressed Vince as a child.
- "No, but, I just thought . . ." Vince looked at Cyril, then down at the dead body. True, half the face was missing, but the resemblence on the good half was still striking. Other features fit in, as well, uniform, height, demeanor. Not to metion that Vince specifically remembered having started this mission with Cyril, so who was this whos body he carried in his arms?
- "You're thinking, again, Vincent," Cyril reprimanded. With a wave of his finger, Dr. Diana rushed forward to collect the fallen body and drag it off into a corridor in the distance. Vince was surprised at how a woman of her build was so strong. Then again, she had been cloned and re-cloned so many times, nothing she did re ally surprised Vince. She was like everything else around here: made for a specific function. And if she was defective in her duties, they would just find someone more suited for them (namely, another Dr. Diana). "You're not supposed to think, Vincent. That's my job. You just shoot things."
- "Sorry," Vince hung his head. Cyril had been his friend and mentor for as long as he could remember, but they were by no means equals. Cyril always treated Vince very sternly, criticizing him for his slightest mistake, like an overbearing father. Cyril's motto for Vince seemed to be: Vincent should be seen and not heard, or: Do as I say, not as I do.
- "Let's get that wound looked at," Cyril said, pointing to the still-gaping hole in Vince's chest. Vince, in his grief, had forgotten about his own wound, and just remembered it, now, looking through the hole in his sternum, and seeing the wall behind him. Cyril opened the doorway to the inner labratory, and Vince led the way: the familiar route to the repair lab.
- On their way there, they passed through rows and rows of Chassuers suspended in tubes filled with strange blue liquid. The Chassuers appeared to be either sleeping or deep in thought. Vince wondered why they all looked the same.
- "Why?" Vince started with a question that was working its way into his head. "Why do we do what we do?" Vince asked simply. Cyril usually avoided questions like this. Vince was, by far, Cybertronic's best warrior. But this proficiency was maintained as long as Vince was kept in the dark about some of Cybertronic's more grisly motivations and methods. Vince was a noble warrior, and his continued participation depended that he remained in blissful ignorance. On this occasssion, however, Cyril decided to take the opportunity to enlighten Vince just enough to sate his curiosity, as well as maybe vindicate a few of their methods in his own head, as well.
- "Blending man with machine, you mean?" Cyril replied. "It mostly has t o do with fighting against the Dark Legions."
- "But the ideas were thought of before the Dark Legion was around," Vince interjected, a logical leap that Cyril didn't think Vince capable of.
- "Think of it like this, Vincent. Man is a wonderful creature, marvelous in his facalties and capabilities. But he is limited by his nature and by his physique. Evolution can change man for the better, but that takes too long to work positively in the face of an oncoming threat. The one aspect of man that is not limited, however, is his mind. Man creates machine. And since machine is the creation of the mind of man, it can achieve more than man, in a shorter amount of time than evolution, because it doesn't have to be limited by any nature or physique other than what man creates for it. Therefore, man melds himself with machine to force his own evolution in the face of imanent danger."
- "But why even be human, then. If machines can infinitely achieve, whereas man is held back, why not just let machines run things?" Vince asked.
- "Because we're still in control," Cyril replied. "We don't want to die. We want to live. We don't want to have machines rule us, we need to use them in our fight. We need to figure out how much will and command to give these machines so that they benefit us, without taking us over. It's a fine line to walk."
- "Does this mean that once Cybertronic has defeated the Dark Legion, we won't have need of being one with machines? I mean, if there's no threat, anymore, will we still need it?" Vince was puzzled.
- "Probably," Cyril guessed. "But, as for us, it is our duty to take on this ability - which is both a blessing and a curse, in order to make the universe a better place. I believe it was Sartre who said that, 'Many times men will cause great evil and become evil themselves so that future generations can live in Utopia.'"
- "Is that what you believe? That's bullcrap!" a third voice said from the shodows. It was Cor al Beach. He had been listening in on the conversation, the whole time, waiting to throw his two cents in. "Pretty interesting, a man with a back-ground like yourself quoting existentialist philosophy. Existence preceeds essence - Ha! You're living proof that's a load!" Coral chuckled, joining the group, following behind Vince, to his left, just opposite Cyril. Vince had never noticed before how much Coral Beach resembled Cyril Dent, until now. But it was true: they were approximately the same height, and had the same facial structure, from what you could make out from beneath Coral's mostly conealed face. As well as this, their voices were remotely similar, if not for a grating quality behind Coral's speach which contrasted with the properness of Cyril's vocabulary. Hell, even their first names were relatively similar: Cyril - Coral. Vince's thought processes were broken by Coral's continued attack. "Why don't you tell him the real truth, Cyril?"
- "I don't know to what you refer . . ." Cyril haughtily stared off into space.
- "Well, Vincie, it goes like this," Coral started off. Vince hated being called Vincie almost as much as he hated being called Vincent. But he let Coral continue. "He was being straight with you when he told you that we were after the Dark Legion. That much is true, that much is right. But do you really think that we'll stop there, once the dead guys are done away with? No way, don't let Cyril trick you into thinking that we're the selfless martyrs, sacraficing our very flesh to make the world a better place for children and senior citizens and all that other mushy bull propaganda he's been trying to feed you. We want to bump off the Dark Legion simply because they're our biggest competitors. Once that is done, we move in on the rest of the corporations. Don't be tricked into thinking that we're the good guys out to save the day. We're no better or worse than any other corporation out there, the Dark Legion, OR the Brotherhood. It's a compet ition, pure and simple. We do what we have to do to get ahead and be in control."
- "You make us sound like some vicious, Warmongering, manifest-destiny zealots! We are not Imperial! True, after the Dark Legion is vanquished, there will be conflicts with the other Corporations: but this is inevitable! They wouldn't leave us alone, even if we left them alone. Let's examine them one at a time, shall we? Bauhaus: Thier fanaticism would force them to hunt us down. Once the 'great evil' is gone, who becomes the bad guy? Us. Imperial: Their expansion causes them to try and subjugate their rivals, simply for the sake of doing so. They would come after us, first, being the smallest corporation. Capitol: They act like Imperial, but only when it comes to profit, not territory. They'll pull the same trick as Imperial, only in trying to buy us instead of subjugate us. Mishima: Too fractured to form a permanent alliance. They can't even get their own house in order. There will always be some faction of Mishiman society which aims to do us wrong. And the Brotherhood? Forget it? The only reason that they haven't declared full-on war on us, yet, is the number of Chasseurs who throw themselves in front of the Dark Legion's cannons, daily, to further a cause, they, themselves don't belive in. Believe me, once the Dark Legion is done away with, the Brotherhood will concentrate all its efforts on us, with such zeal and ferocity, they'll make the Dark Legion look like children. If Cybertronic continues to expand, it is only to keep from being swallowed up by an aggressive adversary. The best defense is always a good offense!"
- "That's a crock, and you know it!" Coral fired back. "We're not the victims, we're the the masters. Vincie," Coral address Vince, who had been silent most of the conversation. "Vincie, you know, deep down inside that what you are . . ." Coral knocked on Vince's massive, metal chest, "is better than what other people are. You know, Vince, that deep down in side, you have this power to put down other people who will hate you just because you're better than them. What good is being powerful if you don't use it to help yourself, Vincie?"
- "Don't listen, Vincent," Cyril connected Coral's ranting. "You know that you serve a higher purpose. Relgious people would call it God. And while I may not be religious, I've never ruled it out. I just realize that it's something I'll never completely know the truth about. So, instead, I concentrate on knowing everything about what I do grasp. And what I do grasp is man's infinate capabilities. So, Vincent, even if there is no God, you serve the higher purpose of man, himself, by being a virtue to those around you."
- "Don't listen to him, Vincie," Coral hissed from behind Vince's left shoulder, playing an Id to Cyril's Superego and Vince's Ego. "Revel in the glory that power brings. A great AI once said, 'It's cool to be a robot.'"
- "No, Vincent, with great power comes great responsibility. You must use your power to serve," Cyril retorted.
- By this time, they had finally reached the massive, iron door to the repair room. Vince merely turned to them both and spoke in his slow monotone,
- "Neither of these things concern me, right now. I'm going to just do what I'm told."
- Both Cyril and Coral looked at each other over this reply, finally finding agreement through disagreement. In mere seconds, they started arguing, again. Vince sighed, and walked himself into the Repair Room, leaving the dealings of the motivations of man to men with Intelligence. His role was merely to act, not think, and so far, it had served him well.