Texas

Proud and independent minded, Texas is known as the Lone Star State, having once spent a short tenure as an independent nation before joining the United States. The second largest state besides Alaska, Texans are a fiercely proud people, who enjoy their steaks extra large and their music with country style. Much of the state is large expanses of plains and desert, though several small towns, large cities, and Mega-cities dot the landscape inbetween the vast stretches of emptiness. The heat is often above 100 in the summer, though the low humidity makes it not quite as noticeable.

Breeze [Armored] [MH] El Paso

Submerge <D> leads to Underneath Gulf of Mexico.

Gulf <G> leads to Gulf of Mexico.

North <N> leads to Great Plains.

East <E> leads to Louisiana.

Southeast <SE> leads to Central Mexico.

Southwest <SW> leads to Mojave Desert.

West <W> leads to Southwest United States.

Up <U> leads to Sky Above Western United States.

Far West Texas. Unlike the eastern half of the state (which has been pounded by the unwelcome hurricane that refuses to leave), the sky is merely cloudy, with only the mild threat of rain. It has stormed here recently, however, so no dust trail is left in the wake of the lone hoverbike cutting cross country across the scrub. Its rider's destination? The ruins of what was once the city of El Paso.

Breeze, curiously enough, is already at El Paso, just gliding around through the wreckage. When an incoming vehicle shows up on radar though, she turns around and heads back for the countryside where the bike is approaching from. More or less an interception course, and it's pretty blatant since she's only a good ten or twelve feet off the ground as she flies along.

Bowie may or may not be recognizable, as he's wearing his helmet. If she's paid any attention to the vehicles parked in the Hunter garage, it would be the other American bike usually found there, aside from Michael's Harley. Its course is also pretty obvious, as it turns onto the highway that once fed into this bustling border town. As Breeze flies closer to him, he slows down, but doesn't stop entirely.

Breeze can see through the helmet, at least. Which is enough. She pulls up 'alongside' the bike and flies at its same speed, then speaks via radio. "< Kind of depressing out here. I was just out flying, and found this. Were you looking to check the ruins out or something? Been looking for you, anyway. >"

Bowie acknowledges Breeze with a nod, maintaining the same speed as he radios back. "< Came t'settle old accounts. >"

Breeze looks a bit curious, though the effect is perhaps diminished by having the wind blow in her face from flying like this. "<With who? If it's none of my business, say so, but I don't think anyone's here to settle with...>"

Bowie doesn't answer for a couple miles, eventually forced to slow further by the buckling of the pavement. "< Ah used t'live down the road a piece frum here, Miss Breeze. Ah used t'patrol out this way, when Ah wus in the Rangers. >"

Breeze seems to have no problems, but then again she's flying more than hovering. "< Oh. Those kinds of accounts. Place means a lot to you. I get it. Nevermind then, I'll be on my way. What I wanted to ask about can wait. >"

Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Good evening, handsome."

Though not as bad as those ancient wheeled vehicles, hoverbikes still lie close to the ground most of the time. "< Go ahead an ask. Ah don't mind. >"

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "*muted* Evenin, sunshine."

Breeze turns around so that she's flying backwards, then speaks again. "< Simply put, I was wondering how you were doing. The first time I met you, you were...not yourself. And I've had very little to do with you since. But seeing as I flew around a good chunk of America trying to find you, I figured I may as well check up on ya. >"

Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh, are you busy? I will not bother you if you are busy, I just wanted to say hello..."

Bowie chuckles softly over the radio, partly in humor. "< Ah'm still not mahself entirely. >" Serious again. "< But yeah, ya didn't see me at mah best...this city wus part a it. Ah took off when Ah finally remembered whut happened t'El Paso, and...well, some other thangs. >"

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Sorta. Ah'm in El Paso."

Breeze finally lets out a bit of a shrug, looking a bit casual now. "< Well, if you're alright now at least. I'm leaving, if that's so. >"

Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "...Oh! I understand. If you need anything at all, just say so."

Bowie smiles, if she can see it. "< 'Bout as well as Ah'm goin t'be. An Ah appreciate yer concern. >" Another short pause. "< Didja see any ghosts when ya wus pokin around? >"

Breeze remarks back rather suddenly, "< ...Why would I? Ghosts don't exist. But to actually answer your question, no. Not a one. No signs of life on my sensors, nothing unusual. Why? >"

"< Today's Dia de los Muertos...Day a the Dead, >" Bowie explains. "< Supposed t'be when the spirits of the dead come back t'visit the livin fer a day. >"

Breeze notes back simply, " <I don't believe in the supernatural. Too much of the natural that should be, isn't. And until that's no longer true, I don't want to care about myths. But if you're alright, I'm gone. >" With that, she begins floating to the sky.

Bowie merely shrugs. He has odd notions at times, and he admits it. "< Good evenin t'ya then. >"

Breeze enters the Sky Above Western United States.

Breeze has left.

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Ya believe in ghosts don't ya?"

Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Oh yes, I do very much. Have you seen any?"

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Not yet...but that doesn't mean thay're not here. *pause* Just thought that, today bein Dia de los Muertos, that someone ought t'remember the souls that died here."

Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "I wish I knew more about that holiday. But if it is to honor dead...then show honor where honor is due."

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Accordin t'tradition, today's when the spirits a the dead come back t'see the livin."

Kalinka sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Be very patient...show them you mean no harm, and that you have come to honor their memory. That is when they come."

[Radio] You send Kalinka a direct message: "Ah'll try."

********************************************************************************

Bowie parks his bike just outside what used to be the center of town. The sound of the engine dies, leaving behind near-total silence. No sounds or sign of life, not even birds. There is nothing left save heat-blasted rubble, as if the city had been set in a furnace. Grit and scattered chunks of plasticrete crunch under his boots as he dismounts. He unlaces his saddlebags, taking from them two loaves of bread, a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums, and a bottle of tequila. A small but no less heart-felt tribute to honor the dead, even if its bearer technically has no heart. His footsteps echo through the empty street, reverberating across the rubble that was once shops and offices and homes.

Bowie stops in front of the shattered fountain that once marked the center of town, the marble laced fine with cracks and dusted with ash and soot. A funeral pyre, this city. He wipes away dust with the sleeve of his duster, clearing a small area to serve as an altar. The petals are gently plucked from their stems and scattered, their yellow hue a sharp contrast to the pervasive grays. He sets the fresh-baked bread atop the petals, then uncaps the bottle and sets it next to them. The desert is a dry and dusty place, and it's only hospitable to offer food and drink to a weary traveler.

Bowie kneels in front of the makeshift altar, taking from his pocket four votive candles. One for each of the four directions, to guide the spirits to the city they once knew but would no longer recognize. Each is set to a different side of the offerings, and lit with the snap of a match. The flames flicker in the slight breeze, but do not go out.

The retired Ranger remains kneeling, head slightly bowed, the air around him a blending of bread, chrysanthemums, liquor, and spiced candlesmoke. His mind, or his equivalent, wanders. It is said that the dead watch over the living. In an age when an entire city can be blasted into nothingness with hardly a thought, then the living never needed more protection.

Hundreds of thousands of people, human and android, died in a matter of moments. These people were just like people found in almost any other city. They were ordinary citizens, trying to go on with their lives despite the war. They did not ask to be used in display of the Stardroids' awesome power.

They did not deserve to die. Death was brought to them all the same.

For what purpose? What message did the Stardroids mean to convey? What could be so important that an entire city needed to be condemned to death?

He has thought on this many times, and still he has no answers. If El Paso had been destroyed in an attack by the Mavericks or Robot Masters, he could begin to comprehend. He wonders if those who died and the families that loved them have asked themselves the same questions.

Bowie kneels there a while longer, the only living soul in a place now reserved for the dead. Perhaps the spirits come to enjoy the meager feast, or perhaps they were never here at all. Only the spirits can say, and they speak in words that the gunslinger cannot hear.

After a time measured only in silence, Bowie slowly stands again. The dead have been remembered. In his heart (the metaphorical one, at least), he renews his resolve. The dead are past further aid, counsel only to themselves. For whatever time he may yet have, he will continue to protect the living.

Bowie returns to his bike, regretfully breaking the silence as the engine hums to life. The offering is left to the city and whatever dwells within. The world is ever moving on, but a part of the past will still be remembered. The bike lurches forward, beginning the long trek home. The Hunter does not look back.

********************************************************************************

Bowie is driving down a stretch of empty highway on his hovercycle, the setting sun at his back. He's barely out of the ruins of what was once the grand city of El Paso.

Sigma sits in the middle of the highway, Indian Style. His head is lowered slightly as if he appears to be meditating. The highway isn't often used, and most people move out of his way rather than smash into him. "..hm.....", he intones softly as he hears the hovercycle approach. And he looks up slightly.

Bowie slows as he sees something in the middle of the road. Something very large. Something that most definitely was not there on his trip into the city.

Sigma gazes forward towards the hovercycle and Bowie. All alone, easy to destroy Bowie before anybody shows up to save him. At least cause a good deal of damage. But Sigma doesn't, he merely twists his lip up in a sharp, mocking grin as if he knew something about Bowie that Bowie doesn't know, but should.

There are many things in the world that Bowie does not know or remember, a fact of which he is often painfully reminded. Behind his helmet, he scowls as he realizes just who is standing before him. The bike slows to a crawl, stopping some twenty yards away from the self-proclaimed emperor.

Sigma continues sitting in Indian Style right where he is, "Paying respects to the dead, Hunter? Well, well...", he says, a thin edge of amusement in his voice. He looks to the cycle for a few moments before looking back to Bowie, "You didn't choose to just run me over, how polite of you."

Bowie lets the engine idle as he lifts his helmet's visor. "Didn't want t'wreck the bike," he says, voice husky. "An whut Ah do is mah own business."

Sigma continues sitting. Tsk, tsk, tsk. He shakes his head slowly, "Even on me? I'm honored.", there's still that faint tint of mocking, "But I'll assume for now you were here for honorable reasons instead of, say, blowing away the rain forest like other Hunters do weekly."

"Thare's nothang left t'destroy," Bowie replies, bitterness creeping into his voice. "The Stardroids saw t'that."

Sigma sighs a little, "...So do you blame them, then?", he uncrosses his legs and straightens slowly, arching his back a little as he stands straight up casually. "The Stardroids? Or do you blame those who ran to steal their technology out of greed? Most did so out of greed, many out of fear."

Bowie is disarmed by the question, his lips twitching downward in mute puzzlement. "Ah don't know who t'blame. Besides. Layin blame won't bring those people back."

Sigma chuckles softly, "But you blame the Stardroids, do you not? I've seen a lot of blaming in my life, Hunter, and that was certainly blame."

Bowie's frown falls into a scowl. For one who's known for his smiles, the expression is not becoming. "Fine. Ah blame the Stardroids. That doesn't change much though, does it?"

Sigma grins thinly, "Reasonable Hunter, eh? Well, well, this is interesting.", he takes a few steps forward, "No, it does not change much, but hey...", he lets out a quick laugh, "That might bring them back! The Stardroids have revived -someone- before."

No lights from the heavens, no pixie dust, no music from on high. It seems that the Stardroids, if listening, have chosen not to answer. "Meybe," Bowie grudgingly concedes, "but Ah doubt it."

Sigma smirks slightly, "Indeed. They will not return to save El Paso. They likely imagine we brought it on ourselves, which I disagree with...The pendants overpowered the wills of those involved. Much like conditioning, don't you agree? Except they're better at it, I suppose."

Bowie says "...Ah wouldn't know. Ah stayed outta it as much as Ah could." At least, that's what his journals said.

Sigma shrugs his shoulders simply, "I believe the Mavericks held the least ammount of them among the major powers. Interesting that, don't you agree? I believe the Hunters and the Force had the most."

Bowie's optics narrow. "Ah wouldn't know that, either."

Sigma glances to the side as if looking for something, "I suppose not. Pity people were too worried about chasing after the destroyer than worrying about what it might do, hm?"

Bowie sighs, "Thare a point t'this line a questionin?" His eyes are fixed on Sigma, though he must look up to do so.

Sigma sets his gaze firmly on Bowie, "Is there, Bowie.", woah, he used the Hunter's name, "Tell me, is there? Do you think there is?"

Bowie masks his unsettled feelings behind a calm frown. "Yer askin the wrong person, then. Ah wanted nothang t'do with the pendants. Still don't. Ah'm glad thay're gone."

Sigma says, "Hm. They did unbalance the war. I should be very glad too. Sewa wasn't what I'd call a warrior. Which may have been the point, I suppose. Some of the 'puzzles' didn't exactly seem to be oriented to who could kill the most people."

Bowie says nothing. If he was involved in any chases, he doesn't remember them.

Sigma says, "Or so I hear anyway. Someone used the power of Terra to kill the friend of one of my soldiers. That led to her destruction too. It was used to heal at first. Human Error. But, what can I say? If I had the power of Terra in me, I would make mistakes. Silent treatment, Bowie? Hm? Come now, today is the day to respect the dead, so we talk of the dead."

Bowie continues to frown, but he finally speaks again. "Ya don't need that kind a power t'make mistakes."

Sigma says, "...Of course not. But it's easier, and what you do impacts more. And you get more scrutiny for it too, I imagine, as well. Isn't that so? Many soldiers in the Force and in the Hunters have failed as badly as their leaders...And -all- the leaders have failed. Yet nobody minds when a Private or cadet screws up."

"The price a command," Bowie mutters. It's a price he's at least passingly familiar with. He begins to wonder where this conversation is leading. "All the same, mistakes can kill people. But so can deliberate acts."

Sigma laughs, "Even deliberate acts can be mistakes! If I had made, maybe, two less mistakes in the beginning...well... The war would be over by now, I imagine.", he smirks a little before turning his back to Bowie, "...Haven't heard many of the radios today."

Bowie's frown creeps towards scowl again. "Bit late fer regrets, innit?" he asks rhetorically. "We're still here, an we're still fightin against ya."

Sigma widens his eyes a tad, "Oh? No. I have no regrets. The Coalition is a needed faction which fills a needed void. If it weren't for us and our noble cause...Well..even some of our misdeeds are needed."

"An how does killin innocent civilians fit in t'all this?" Ever the question from Bowie, posed to several Mavericks and Masters alike. "Ya want t'speak a the dead? Then what about the people who died not fer hatin ya, not fer bein yer enemy, but because thay were in yer way?"

Sigma laughs, "The civilians aren't innocent. What is -innocence-, Bowie? Being a civilian makes you MORE guilty than the rest of the world. They don't fight, huh? They don't -decide-. Those wishy-washy creatures...They're... They're in Limbo. There is no innocence there, only uncertainty.", he points to Bowie, "Every war has unfortunate casualties. But you don't seem to remember. I didn't start this war. I joined it."

"So all a us are guilty in yer eyes, then." Bowie's tone is flat. He leans back slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "Ah didn't start this war, either, Sigma. Chances are Ah won't end it. Whut Ah will do is protect those who /can't/ do it themselves." In his mind, at least, there is a line between will not and cannot.

Sigma hehs softly, "...Perhaps I should focus my attacks for a little while.", he looks at the ground, "Aim it at 'innocent' civilians. You know, the owner of the megacorps...ADT's main facilities are under our control, though. We couldn't get the bastards that ran that company. Pity that. Of course, there are other buildings still active. Perhaps I'll go for those. Kill everybody inside. They are all guilty, after all. And I could do it before you could stop me. Their guards are powerful to stop normal reploids, perhaps, but one good shot at the foundation and it's too late."

Bowie's hands curl into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. He does not answer in words, his dark expression speaking for him.

Sigma says, "Would you stop me then? They're obviously not innocent. If I never willingly harmed someone whom I didn't know with a one hundred percent certainty again. Would you stop me from that?"

Bowie counters the questions with one of his own. "Who made ya the judge a others?"

Sigma shrugs his shoulders, "Circumstance. And maybe some will. However, fine then.", he crosses his arms, "What if it was you? If you knew someone was completely guilty, Satan, the worst man or peoples alive...Would you harm...-kill-... that person? What if we both knew?"

Bowie's expression darkens further. Several people would fit that description, and Landon DeVry would be at the top of the list. "...Ah would see him brought t'justice, not vengence."

Sigma bows towards Bowie, "Such self control. I admire that. I truly do. I am not as in control of myself, my emotions sometimes take control. Pity, truly. However...", he straightens, "Who will take the megacorps to justice? They are part of the government, effectively."

Bowie says "The people who form the governments. Ah know democracy gets it wrong sometimes, but the megacorps will be brought t'justice eventually."

Sigma says, "And people suffer while you wait...", wickedly, "They killed before I did. Not before Wily, but Wily...He started it all, didn't he?"

Bowie begins to answer, then stops, closing his mouth again. Did Wily truly start this? Did the UN, as others have claimed? Can any one person be blamed? Does it matter? The Hunter shakes his head. "It's not important who started it. It's done, an now you an Ah are the result. The world's moved on, an all we can do is change whut happens now, not pickin apart who did whut."

Sigma shrugs his shoulders, "Or so people say. At least the fighting. But that made matters simpler...more understandable...more human.", he looks back to Bowie with a glance, "Repliforce Island...the first one...was an experiment, you could say. Oh it was an attempt for victory too, but an experiment if it was not attained either."

"Ah'm sure that means a lot t'the people defendin it," Bowie mutters darkly. He revs his bike's engine. "This conversation's over." And with no further words, he turns, heading the bike cross-country.

Sigma chuckles. "Very well, Bowie. Have a nice ride...and Day of the Dead.", he puts a little emphasis on that word.