All of a sudden, Moxley's fury, his eyes blazing like lightning trapped in flesh. He stalked towards Dr. Fredrich.
Moxley screamed at Dr. Fredrich, his voice raw with grief and rage. "You kept Specter chained in the shadows while a child, a child, Doc, bled out on that floor! Was that your strategy? Wait for the apocalypse to unfold before giving us a fighting chance?"
Dr. Fredrich stood his ground
He seized Dr. Fredrich by the lapels, the fabric creaking under the ferocity of his grip.
"You were so quick to pull that trigger with Ciel," Moxley snarled, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back tears.
"You risked everything then, but when it came to a child, to one of us, you played God? You held onto your precious weapon while that beast carved a path through innocent lives!"
He slammed Dr. Fredrich against the cold, metallic wall, the impact echoing like a gunshot in the hollow chamber.
Specter reacted with instantaneous savagery. The cyborg blurred across the room, its yellow blade hissing with lethal intent, aimed straight for Moxley's throat.
But Dr. Fredrich saw the danger, saw the cold, emotionless calculations in Specter's eyes. He raised a hand.
"Don't!"
The word, raw and desperate, hung in the air, a tethered lightning bolt momentarily halting the approaching storm.
Specter, its blade mere millimeters from Moxley's jugular, froze in mid-step. The hum of its yellow lightning faltered, the cyborg's cold eyes flickering with a momentary spark of something… else. Confusion? Uncertainty?
Moxley, still panting from his outburst, stared at the frozen cyborg, his own rage sputtering out like a dying flame. His gaze then found Dr. Fredrich
He slowly released Dr. Fredrich, the fabric of his coat slipping through his numb fingers. He stepped back, the silence pressing down on him like a shroud. Shame warred with anger within him, the taste of ashes bitter on his tongue.
Dr. Fredrich straightened, his gaze meeting Moxley's with a weary understanding. He spoke
"I… I couldn't risk unleashing Specter before he was ready. Not before I could ensure control. The consequences… they could be catastrophic."
Moxley nodded, the anger ebbing away, leaving behind a hollow ache of grief and uncertainty. He looked at Specter, the cyborg still frozen, its blade a hair's breadth from his demise.
Dr. Fredrich, still recovering from the verbal and physical onslaught, leaned against the cold surface, his face a mask of exhaustion and regret.
"Moxley," he began, "you have to understand. Every decision I make comes with a price. It's not as simple as deploying the strongest cyborg every time there's a shadow in the corner."
Moxley, though visibly simmering, listened with grudging respect. His anger, though hot, had found purchase in the doctor's visible weariness. He knew the burden of responsibility, the agonizing weight of decisions that could tip the scales between their lives.
Fredrich winced, his eyes flickering with the ghosts of battles fought and lives lost. "Specter and Ciel, Moxley, they're not mere tools. They're intricate machines, wired with power so raw it could fry your brain faster than you think. Unleash them wrong, and they might carve us all into diced potatoes before you can blink."
He gestured at the shattered concrete, the silent remnants of the mutant's rampage.
"Those creatures," he continued, his voice dropping to a grim whisper, "they're learning, adapting. Every encounter makes them tougher, smarter. If we throw our trump cards too early, we might as well hand them the crown and call it a day."
Moxley understood the reasoning, though it scraped against his raw grief. The image of that child's lifeless eyes gnawed at him like a starving rat.
"A kid died, Doc. A child! We can't just sit here anymore"
His desperation, stark and unvarnished, resonated with Dr. Fredrich. He saw the reflection of his own guilt in Moxley's eyes, the same gnawing sense of failure that clawed at his own gut.
"I know, Moxley," he sighed, the weight of that single word heavier than any cyborg. "I know. But the line between victory and… annihilation, it's thinner than you think. We walk that line blind, feeling our way in the dark, hoping the next step isn't the one that kills us all"
Dr. Fredrich adds "Specter and Ciel are not toys, Moxley. They're, and even I can't control them perfectly. And it would be catastrophic if we lose the three of them"
"Alright, Doc," Moxley finally conceded
"Wait, three of them?" he blurted out, the question tumbling from his lips before he could stop it.
Dr. Fredrich's eyes widened, a flash of surprise momentarily replacing the weariness. He had let slip more than he intended, revealing a secret he had kept close to his chest for far too long.
"I… I mean two," he stammered, attempting to cover his tracks. "Just Ciel and Specter. Sorry, the adrenaline, you know…"
Moxley didn't buy it. His gaze narrowed, suspicion etching itself onto his features. Three cyborgs. Not two. There was something the doctor wasn't telling him, something he was desperately trying to hide.
Before Moxley could press the issue further, Martha's voice cut through the tension. "Hey, can we take care of the kids first?" she asked, her voice tight with strain as she surveyed the carnage in the central chamber. "I can't bear the thought of them seeing this."
Moxley, his own anger momentarily pushed aside by the urgent need to protect the survivors, nodded grimly.
"Sure thing," he said, turning towards the doctor. "We can talk about this later, Doc. But right now, the kids need us."
He cast one last suspicious glance at the doctor, the revelation of a potential third cyborg churning in his mind, before following Martha towards the shelter where the children huddled, their faces pale with fear and their eyes wide with the echoes of the battle they had just witnessed.
Dr. Fredrich approached Specter cautiously, the hum of the cooled down blade echoing in the tense silence. His eyes met the cyborg's, not with fear, but with a weary weariness that mirrored the flickering tension in the room.
"Stand down, Specter," he ordered, his voice firm but laced with an undercurrent of exhaustion. "Moxley understands now. There's no need for further… disruption."
The cyborg obeyed, its luminescent eyes dimming as the yellow charge of its blade faded. It shifted slightly, taking up its previous vigilant stance beside the doctor, a silent and imposing sentinel. Fredrich couldn't help but marvel at the intricate design, the gleaming chrome casing, and the subtle servos whispering beneath the surface. Specter and Ciel, his two most advanced creations, were not just machines; they were enigmas, marvels of technology imbued with a spark of something… else.
Martha, returning from tending to the children, sensed the unspoken tension hanging in the air. "What's going on?" she asked, "Is everything alright?"
Dr. Fredrich sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. "Just a… misunderstanding, Martha. Moxley and I were having a… discussion about strategy."
Hours have passed, Moxley, his apology hanging heavy in the air, stood awkwardly by the door, the weight of his outburst still clinging to him.
"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier," he admitted, his voice gruff but sincere. "Lost my head a bit with what happened. Shouldn't have gone off on you like that."
Dr. Fredrich, who sat wearily at his desk, met Moxley's gaze with a weary understanding. "It's alright, Mox," he replied, the lines on his face deepening with a sigh. "I get it. You were grieving, scared. We all are. And that damn kid…" He stopped, the image of the child's lifeless eyes flickering in his mind.
Moxley nodded, the raw grief still etched on his features. "Yeah," he murmured
"So, who is this third special cyborg?" Moxley inquired
The doctor sighed, weighing his words before responding. "The third special cyborg is named Zero," he finally admitted, his voice low and heavy. "But he went missing long ago. Until now, I haven't even known if he's still alive."
Moxley's expression shifted from frustration to intrigue. The shelter, it seemed, held secrets far more complex than he had initially thought. "Missing?" he echoed, the questions tumbling out.
"How? When? Why?"
"It was a mission," he began, choosing his words carefully. "A critical one, even back then. We sent Zero to gather vital information about the mutant activity on the surface. The communication went dark, and he never returned."
His voice trailed off. Moxley, absorbing the gravity of the situation, nodded thoughtfully. "So, he just disappeared without a trace?"
Dr. Fredrich nodded, a mixture of sorrow and uncertainty in his eyes.
"Yes. We searched for him, but the surface was too perilous, and there were no signs. Zero… he was different, you see. More than just a machine, somehow. And losing him…" He stopped, the words caught in his throat.
Moxley, grappling with the information, realized the depth of their struggle in a world where even the most advanced creations could be lost without a trace.
"Maybe, Doc," he said, his voice a husky whisper, "maybe that's why finding him now is so important. Maybe Zero, if he's still out there…"
"Yeah," Dr. Fredrich breathed, a flicker of defiance rekindled in his eyes. "Maybe. Perhaps he holds the key, Mox. Perhaps Zero is the missing piece."
Suddenly, a soft notification echoed in the dimly lit room, catching the attention of all the people huddled nearby. The message on the control panel blinked in bold letters:
"Ciel - Fully Charged, Ready for Deployment."