A moment of silence was disrupted by a soldier's voice over comlink. "Did we win?" he asked with a gleam of hope.

Another soldier answered. "I wouldn't count on it," he said, his voice cracking, waiting for Vecto to emerge from the smoke and kill them all.

The smoke inched away, but Vecto was lying on the ground.

"Morphaal," Vecto said, rolling over. "Sable . . . I must avenge Gyro's death!" His body twitched as his body pieces floated into the air. They drifted into place as Vecto repeated Morphaal's and Sable's names, fueling his rage. Rage was the only thing that made him stronger. He had to become completely evil to survive, he thought. It was the only way he could defeat Morphaal.

He looked up to see one of his scout orbs wobble in the air toward him. Vecto slowly stood and reached out his hand, letting it settle in his palm. It transmitted a message that tipped him over the edge. "You traitors!" he yelled as his shields fluctuated almost to black.

"Fire everything!" a soldier commanded. The tanks resumed firing. Cannons collided with Vecto's outer shield, but this time, he didn't budge. Vecto's shield grew darker as he felt the pain of the blows. More and more, the shields were becoming visible. Vecto had his head tilted down as dark thoughts consumed him. With this power, he could kill anyone in his way. He could kill Morphaal and take his place as ruler. He could become a god.

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He pressed his shields against the firepower, amidst explosions, as he strode toward the tanks.

"No! No! It's impossible!" a soldier in one of the tanks yelled as he released all of his weapons at once. One by one, the other tanks also exhausted their weapons. The stream of cannon fire died down as Vecto slowly approached with his weapons hovering around him. When the barrage ceased, Vecto's shields were a semi-translucent black. The outer shield fluctuated, then expanded, flowing past the tanks. The shield moved across the field of tanks, filtering them inside. A dome formed over the entire field.

"I control you now . . ." Vecto's voice echoed in all of the soldiers' ears as the tanks lifted from the surface, tossing and turning in the air.

"My God! Somebody save us!" a soldier yelled.

"We're gonna die!" another cried.

Slowly, Vecto hovered his Alpha Detta Flint over his shoulder, enclosed with its last shell.

"This can't be happening . . . this can't be happening . . ." a soldier repeated, clutching a locket with a picture of his wife and little girl.

His driver looked over to him as a tear rolled down his cheek. "I'm sorry, kid . . ."

Vecto pointed the weapon at the ground and fired.

It malfunctioned. The weapon was strangely sparking. He looked it over and noticed a bullet wedged precisely in the launch mechanism of the gun, releasing an electric current to shut it down.

Vecto tossed the weapon aside and laughed ominously, realizing who was standing behind him. "So you finally showed up . . ."