He hoped he was wrong, but something about the way they moved—the way his Guyver was reacting to them—made him fairly sure that he was right.

One of the Zoanoids lifted its head, letting off a shriek that Sean thought would have been more appropriate coming from a bird of prey. Then all of them charged, galloping on all-fours, their pinchers snapping at the air and some kind of weird green drool dribbling from their insect-like mouths. The soldiers of the Hunter Division fired into the mass of charging Zoanoids, but they leapt out of the path of the barrage with more agility and speed than their huge bulk would have even hinted at.

Even Sean had a bit of trouble keeping up with the movements of the Zoanoids, and his senses had been enhanced by the Guyver. He didn’t even want to think about what the normal soldiers were going through, fighting those things. Without another thought, Sean charged into the fray. Those furry, bug Zoanoids were fast, but they couldn’t be any real match for a Guyver. They just couldn’t be.

XxXxX

Ryan was just about to get out of bed and see if there were any bathrooms in the immediate vicinity, someone else came into the hospital room—someone severely built; someone who definitely looked like trouble. Ryan tensed slightly, careful to make sure that Mr. Badass didn’t notice him doing so, since it really wouldn’t have endeared him to the guy if he’d seen Ryan tensing up just at the sight of him.

Or maybe it would have, and in that case Ryan didn’t want to give the jerk the satisfaction of knowing just how much his presence affected him.

"The nurse said you were up," Mr. Badass said, sounding gruff and at the same time completely disinterested in what he was doing at the moment.

Ryan figured he could work with that. When Mr. Badass walked up behind the bed he was still on and started pushing, Ryan leaned back and tried to make it look like he was relaxed. All the while, though, he was wondering just what the hell was going on.

"Hey, big guy, just where are we going?" Ryan asked, even as he crossed his arms behind his head and made a concerted effort to appear relaxed.

"Can’t tell you," Mr. Badass said shortly.

Strike one, Ryan thought grimly, clenching his teeth briefly. "What’s going to happen to me?"

"Can’t say."

Strike two. "Where am I, anyway?"

"That’s really none of your business, kid."

Strike three; I am so outta here. "Well, if that’s what you think…"

Lunging sideways suddenly, Ryan threw himself over the side of the bed. Then, before Mr. Badass could get out more than a few surprised syllables, Ryan ducked under the bed and leapt out from the other side. Getting to his feet, he ran—he may not have known where exactly he was, but one thing he was sure of was that whoever Mr. Badass was, he didn’t want to have anything to do with him. And so he was going to haul ass out of here, wherever here turned out to be. Turning his head at the sound of heavy footfalls behind him, Ryan saw that Mr. Badass was following him.

He’d pretty much expected something like that to happen, since the guy hadn’t seemed like the type to take his escape well. Not that Ryan gave a flying fuck about what Mr. Badass thought of him, but still—the guy looked pretty buff. Maybe he should start looking for somewhere to lose the guy, but the wall looming just ten feet in front of him startled him almost enough to stop him in his tracks.

Since that would have been an extremely bad idea, what with Mr. Badass hot on his heels and all, Ryan turned the corner into the hallway he’d seen out of the corner of his eye. Mr. Badass tried to come after him, pretty much like Ryan had expected. Seeing him almost crash headfirst into the wall was pretty funny, though, and it gave Ryan at least some hope about his current situation. Can’t corner worth a damn; I can work with this.

Mr. Badass evidently heard Ryan laughing at him, because he shot Ryan the filthiest glare he could, and Ryan grinned back, flipping him off just as he lost sight of him around the corner. The hallway in front of him was empty, but Ryan had the distinct feeling then that that situation wasn’t going to last very long—not with him loose and Mr. Badass so obviously chasing after him.

Whatever screwed-up hospital this place was—and it had to be seriously screwed-up, given the fact that he’d managed to catch a glimpse of actual restraints on that bed just before he’d run like hell—Ryan was willing to put at least some money on there being orderlies here. Or, more likely, some kind of strong-guy guards, like those hairy, sweaty, no-necked, severely mentally deficient guys that he’d always made it a point to strenuously avoid in school.

This is going to be just a joy, Ryan thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Looking for someplace to hide that Mr. Badass or his cohorts wouldn’t think to look for him, Ryan heard the man running after him. Well, this day officially sucks.

XxXxX

Sean had long since learned that, whatever breed of Zoanoids these new ones were, they were more dangerous than any other that he’d ever faced before. Their claws were extremely sharp, and what was worse, they exuded some kind of acid that was powerful enough to dissolve even the Guyver’s tough armor. He’d been a lot more careful to stay out of spitting-range when he was facing those things.

He still found it strange that these things would actually spit the acid at him, rather than having it come out of some other kind of nozzle like Panadyne’s had been set on his shoulders. But as one of the buglike, white Zoanoids leaped at him, Sean found that the spitting wasn’t quite so funny anymore. Now it was dangerous again.

He also knew that he had to find a way to get past their heads and the long, sharp pinchers that stuck out of their backs. Their heads, despite the fact that their necks looked about a foot long, weren’t very flexible. Then again, that was probably why they had the pincers in the first place: to keep any of their faster targets from being able to get a shot at their heads. Racing at the nearest white-furred, insectile Zoanoid—one that was harassing a group of ACTF Hunters—Sean zigzagged to avoid the acid that it had started spitting at him.

Once he had gotten within stabbing-range of the Zoanoid’s pincers, he was even more careful to avoid getting caught by them. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the pincers themselves, since the Guyver’s armor was probably tough enough to stand up to them, as Sean didn’t know of any Zoanoid that could pierce the Guyver’s armor just by scratching it, but he knew they would be able to hold him in place long enough for the Zoanoid to spit enough acid at him to incapacitate him.

Moving out of the way of the long, stabbing pincers, he managed to leap up onto the Zoanoid’s back. Grabbing onto the base of the long, spider-like legs that the pincers were attached to, he extended the sword on the Guyver’s left arm and slammed it deep into the yielding flesh of the Zoanoid’s back, just below the thing’s left shoulder. Sean was exultant, at least until the pain hit him, and then he wasn’t quite sure who screamed louder— him or the Zoanoid.

Ripping his blade out of the Zoanoid’s back, Sean saw the damage that the Zoanoid’s blood – blood of all things – had done to his armor. The blade on his arm was eaten through almost entirely, and even the armor itself showed signs of corrosion. But what mattered far more than the damage to his armor, although that in itself was very worrying was the pain that he was in. What the hell is this thing—some kind of Xenomorph?!

Either someone had been watching too many Alien movies, or- Sean was in too much pain from the Zoanoid’s corrosive blood to finish that thought. What was even worse was that the Zoanoid had thrashed hard enough to throw him off, and it was now turning toward him with murder in its four red eyes. Sean dodged, just as a particularly large spray of acid was discharged from the Zoanoid’s mandibled mouth.

Ducking out of the way as the white Zoanoid spat at him twice more, he leaped backwards and out of the way of a stab from all four of the pinchers. Panting, he looked back over his right shoulder as his sensors alerted him to the other Zoanoid closing in on him. It was another of the white ones, of course, obviously trying to help the first one double-team him. While he hated Chronos for making these Zoanoids, Sean had to wonder just how they had come up with them in the first place.

He had never seen anything even remotely like them in all the time he’d been fighting Chronos and the Zoanoids they’d created. Sure, he had faced off against his share of insect-like Zoanoids, but none of them had possessed extra limbs, and more importantly none of them had been able to spit acid. Sure, there had been that one that had looked like a rabid bunny and had spit some kind of sticky, saplike stuff at him, but that thing hadn’t been what anyone would call dangerous.

None of the Zoanoids that Sean had ever faced had been this dangerous. These things weren’t even standing still long enough for him to use the massive cannon in the Guyver’s chest to destroy them the way that he’d done with Crane when he’d become a Guyver-Zoanoid. On top of that, though, they were too fast for Sean to be confident of scoring more than a glancing hit on them with that weapon, and stabbing them to death was obviously out, since he certainly wasn’t going to forget the pain of having parts of his arm dissolving in that Zoanoid’s acid blood anytime soon.

The sense of something fast coming at him from behind caught by the Guyver’s head sensors, and Sean leaped out of the way. Thinking it was another one of those white Zoanoids, Sean charged up the laser in the Guyver’s forehead and turned to confront his new opponent, but it turned out that he needn’t have worried so much, as it turned out to be the ACTF’s Hunter Division firing on the attacking Zoanoids. Their first shot hit the armored shoulders of one of the white Zoanoids, not really causing much damage but still managing to disorient the Zoanoid slightly.

The next shot hit above the armored shoulder, but below the armor-plating on the creature’s neck. It must have ignited the Zoanoid’s acidic blood, because the next thing Sean knew the Zoanoid had burst into roaring flames. The other eight Zoanoids, seeing the fate that would soon be theirs, scattered and kept low to the ground. Sean didn’t think that that was likely to help them, since the ACTF was now aware of just how to kill those bug-headed bastards.

Looking around for any other Zoanoids—preferably ones that didn’t come equipped with deadly Guyver-melting acid blood—Sean failed to spot any. This group seemed to be made up of only the acid equipped Zoanoids, which didn’t sit well with Sean at all.

XxXxX

Since he’d been headed to that area anyway, and since Kenji had seemed to be getting bored cooped up in Cloud Tower, Imakarum had decided to take his son to the South American Section to visit with Lord Waferdanos. Kenji seemed to be very eager to learn about the workings of Chronos’ Zoanoid Development Division, and so Imakarum thought that it would be good for him to see another Division with other Zoanoids being developed there.

Even though the Zoanoid Development Divisions within the various branches of Chronos were all laid out on the same basic floor plan, the Zoanoids developed there were distinctly disparate from one another, especially the ones that had been developed to thrive in tropical environments, as Lord Waferdanos’ were. They would be quite different than those that were developed in more temperate climates like Japan. It would be very instructive for Kenji to see these Zoanoids, especially if what Lord Fried’rich said had about his interest turned out to be true.

For now, though, Kenji seemed enthralled enough just looking at the thick jungle passing beneath him that Imakarum didn’t want to disturb him.


 
 
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