[Years of War | Porter Robinson]
"Bass!"
Rock's ears had become sensitive after these months and months of peace, each shot fired from his buster making his head hurt.
"This time! I won't let you go!"
There was such anger, unfounded rage in the voice that cried back.
It had worn thin, this constant oppression, on the blue robot, but he was thankful Bass had chosen a non-residential area to fight.
It meant something was different this time.
Maybe he really did just want to take him out, without destroying the rest of the world around him for once.
For a moment, as he slid down the cement siding of a broken-down office building, Rock considered it. Considered letting Bass take it all out on him, and leave. Something inside him knew, knew that wouldn't solve anything. That Bass would not feel better, and Rock certainly wouldn't feel great smashed to bits on the street.
So he fought. Fought through repetition and boredom, fought through the exhaustion, of having to drive off the straggler, always biting at his ankles.
Something was different.
Bass was downright clumsy.
Utterly, obviously.
He wasn't fighting Rock, but himself.
"Don't you get tired of this?!" Blue glowed gold in the bright summer sunlight that shone from behind him. He knew being up this high, above the ruins of this abandoned city, on the roof of this building – it'd make Bass stop to try and search him out in the harsh light. Stall, for time.
"I'll never get tired of beating you to a pulp, Megaman!" Bass blindly rushed towards the building on which Rock stood, clawing, climbing and jumping like a crazed animal, to reach him, to tear him apart. To bring back his remains, to Wily, to see him remade, to be just like him – something Wily promised, but-
"Really?" Rock's voice was strained, wobbly. He didn't feel like yelling, but he wasn't exactly within whispering distance of the other.
"Are you stupid?! Did I fucking STUTTER?!"
Bass shrieked, now only meters from his most hated rival. He had him cornered. How stupid! What an idiot, trapping himself on top of a tall building like this. Sure, they could both survive the fall, but not without serious consequences.
Rock may have been made with "tender loving care" or whatever bullshit that Dr. Light said, but he sure as hell didn't get brains to match, Bass figured. He held up his own buster, charging it. He loathed the apathy in Rock's eyes. There should have been fear, terror, should have been begging, down on his knees–
"Bass, why don't you just stop? If I really died, would that make you happy? Doctor Wily is in prison, he's not coming back."
Hopefully.
Rock could never be too sure. Even with all the terrible things he put his robot masters through, they always seemed to be ever faithful to him, and he never stayed incarcerated for long when they came to his rescue.
…Maybe it was a creation's devotion to its master.
Or a child wanting to please its father.
The thought made Rock's skin crawl.
"Yes! If you die, I'll be the strongest robot on the planet! And Wily will come back." Bass loved the feeling of advancing on the smaller robot, slowly lowering his arm to keep it in line with Rock's forehead.
He blinked, then aimed for his chest instead. That was the part Dr Wily would remake anyway. He wouldn't need Kokoro anymore, but the positronic brain was important, should be preserved. Had combat memory.
"And he's going to make me stronger, make new parts for me, he said that I can rule over all the robots, in the new world he'll create!"
Bass snarled, just feet away from the small blue robot.
"But you're just a kid! How could you rule over all the robots?!" Rock spat back, trying to push down his anger. Wily was insane, and that alone was enough, but when he thrust it onto his creations–it became simply abominable.
"WITH AN IRON FIST!" Bass roared, letting the charge shot go, and Rock jumped back to dodge –
Not fast enough! The shot hit him in the hip as he leapt away, and he fell like a stoned bird, rolling, frantically trying to recover before he reached the edge of the building.
"WHY AREN'T YOU FIGHTING ME, MEGAMAN?!" Bass puffed up his chest, stomping angrily to where Rock knelt, clutching his newly torn side, the sparks from it making his hands hurt. He pushed at the wires. A mistake. A mistake that could seriously cost him.
Was he putting too much faith in Bass's potential?
"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO KEEP FIGHTING! THE WORLD IS AT PEACE NOW! CAN'T YOU LEAVE IT LIKE THAT?!" Rock shuddered in pain, his voice shaking. He swallowed dryly.
"There's never peace in a world ruled by humans." Bass sneered, towering above the little blue robot, trying to decide whether he wanted to kick at him a little before shooting him once and for all. "There never will be. You trust them too much. They're violent and petty. Why don't you realize that WE are the better breed? Why WON'T you realize this? You're not entirely stupid, Megaman. This is common sense."
"And your world of robots, that will be perfect and without violence?" Rock panted.
Bass was stronger than he expected. He was in a very tight spot, and if he didn't stall or distract the robot, he didn't stand much of a chance point blank.
Bass narrowed his eyes. Buster shot to the face–wait no, heart, gotta keep the brain intact–it was then. This runt was pissing him off.
"I will do what is necessary for robots to reach their full potential. And you're in my way."
Neither one expected nature itself to interrupt, for a rough gale of wind to rush violently across the top of the building, knocking Rock over, and catching Bass off guard.
There was a sharp cry of alarm, as Rock found himself tumbling off the side, pain forgotten in the desperate struggle to cling to the edge – but it was long gone. Even with arms flailing against the walls, he could not find purchase–
Bass found it for him.
"You fucking IDIOT!" He screamed down, one hand tightly wrapped around Rock's wrist. The pain was immense as his fingers dug sharply into the boy's arm – Bass simply did not know his own strength.
"WHY?!" Rock had finally lost his will to continue. Here, Bass had every chance to just reach his other arm over the side of the building and blast him to smithereens while he dangled pathetically in his grip. "WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST WATCH?!"
Bass struggled for an answer. He couldn't bear the truth - that it had been instinct.
"B…BECAUSE I WANTED TO KILL YOU MYSELF."
"DO IT! DO IT NOW!" Rock screamed back at him, the wind tossing him around wildly. He felt his hand go numb at the pressure Bass put on his arm.
"NO! I HAVE TO FIGHT YOU!"
"COWARD!"
"I'M NOT A COWARD YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU'RE THE COWARD! YOU DIDN'T EVEN DEFEND YOURSELF! YOU TRIED TO RUN AWAY!"
As much as Bass loved screaming at Rock, he felt his voice lose its strength. Something was wrong with the twerp. He looked even more pathetic than usual.
He didn't actually…he didn't actually want to die, did he? He was a kid. Kids were supposed to be stupid and obnoxious and clumsy and stupid–wait, he already mentioned stupid. Dumb. They were dumb. And idiotic. Bass really wished there were more words than that to describe how …Stupid. He thought things were.
Rock didn't answer. He was tired. Simply tired. Tired of this happening, happening over and over and over again, ad infinitum. The potential of it never stopping.
"HEY! ANSWER ME, RUNT!" Bass gave him a shake, but Rock just leered up at him.
"I don't have an answer."
"WHAT?!"
"I said, I don't have an answer. These fights have become so meaningless, that–"
"YOU SAYIN' I AIN'T IMPORTANT?!"
"I'm saying us beating each other to death won't solve anything. If you kill me, someone will take my place. If I kill you, someone will take your place. Don't you understand?"
Bass's grip loosened as his eyes widened, and Rock jerked to life, grabbing the robot's arm with his free hand, holding himself to it.
"Bass, please, let's just stop this. It's insane, it's always the same. We hurt each other until someone drags themselves back home to lick their wounds. It will. Never. Change."
Bass, silent, dragged him back up, letting him drop on the corner of the building. He stepped away. Slowly. His feet felt heavy, legs stiff, he wanted badly, badly to turn away. Something sick squirmed inside him at the sight of Rock laying there, motionless.
"I have to. I have to fight you." Bass forced himself to turn, looking out across the expansive roof, studded with metal vents. "It's in my pro–"
The pain was unbelievable. Fire-hot, lightning-white. Bass crumpled to his knees, not even having heard Rock charge his own buster.
"In your PROGRAMMING?!" He screeched, struggling to his feet. "Bastard!" The word felt thick on his tongue. He didn't like the things adults said, the hurt they caused, but it made the wire veins in his body throb.
"You PREACH! PREACH we're a better breed than humans! And look at you." Rock spat, knowing, without seeing his face, that Bass's eyelids were peeled back, mouth open in utter agony. "You can't even fight your own programming. Can't even exceed what you were BUILT to do. You call ME pathetic, Bass. ME. I am MORE than a robot. MORE than what I was designed to do."
He took trembling steps to the boy in front of him.
"This is why, why I will always win. And you will always try to find a better gun, or better rocket boosters, or better armor. Because you can't rely on yourself, to be better than the body you were built." Rock was whispering now.
Bass still did not move.
"I know you're more, so much more than your programming, Bass. Why don't you act like it, why don't you own yourself, for once? I promise…" Gingerly, for the pain in his side was piercing, he stepped to the side of the larger robot, padding softly to the front, where he knelt down, trying to catch the stricken gaze of his rival.
Bass did not speak for a long time.
"You didn't charge your buster…completely." He managed hoarsely. "Why? You…you could have done it. You know, I'll always, always come back, for you, I'll–"
"You don't have to always come back for me. You can have a life outside of fighting me. And..." A feather-like pause, "I didn't want to kill you, Bass. I never have." Rock's words were gentle now, and he winced as he settled to sit on his knees in front of the boy.
"But…" Bass felt slick oil fill his lungs, and he coughed violently, watching it splatter on the cement, his fingers gripping at the loose wires at his stomach. Not even a fully charged shot, and it had blasted a damn hole through him. "I…I want to…" He blinked.
"Do you really? Is it that hard for you to think beyond what you were programmed to think? Did you really believe you were your own person, all this time…when you couldn't even do that?" Rock's voice was tender and full of pity.
To think, for every waking moment of Bass's life, he was believing the lie that he had…free will. When all he had done was follow the path Wily had made for him. All the falsehoods Wily had told him, he had begun to think were his own, individual thoughts. Rock felt his heart sink.
The boy slowly held out his hand for him to hold.
"You can be more than what Wily made you to be, Bass. I believe in you."
Silence.
A bleeding silence, a drawn out deathsigh–
"DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU, ROCK!" Black sheen, like the darkest winter night on a frozen lake, all burning in the summer sun–Bass screamed.
He wanted, badly, he wanted badly, to fight, tooth and nail, to shred this smiling fool in front of him, wish he could taste the oil that would spurt like black blood from him,
"I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN MY OWN! I WILL ALWAYS BE MY OWN!" Forcing himself to stand on unsteady feet, he snapped his buster into place, at the small child in front of him. "WILY DOESN'T CONTROL ME! I HAVE FREE WILL!"
He felt nothing less than horror as the first burning needles of tears stung viciously at his eyes, watching through stained glass vision as his buster's light flickered weakly, sparks jumping about the barrel. He was too damaged to fire a charged shot.
"Come home, Bass." Rock reached out, to push down the gun, his other hand leaving his injured side to grasp Bass's hand. "You don't have to fight to be worth something. Dad taught me that."
"I'LL PROVE MYSELF TO YOU, MEGAMAN! I'LL PROVE I HAVE FREE WILL! I WILL NEVER STOP! I WILL BE BETTER THAN YOU, NO MATTER WHAT IT TAKES!"
Rock felt his offered hand be swatted away, before the barrel of the buster met sharply with the side of his head, and the furious face of the boy in front of him faded to black.
–
"Hey. Hey, c'mon bro. Wake up. It's no time to take a nap. You always fell asleep in the weirdest places back home, but this is ridiculous."
Husky, rusty, and deep, Rock smiled instinctively at the sound of his older brother's voice, tilting his head to feel the palm of his hand to his cheek.
"Mm."
"It was Bass, wasn't it? Jesus, if he keeps this up, I'll beat him silly with his own godawful helmet." He scoffed. "Not that Wily had any sense of style to begin with."
Blues ran his fingers through his brother's hair, checking for any injuries. He knew if his helmet was undamaged, then his head was probably fine. But that didn't stop him from making sure.
"C'mon. Rock. We need to get you home. Dad can fix this better than me. I'll send Bass a calling card. If he wants a fight, he can have one with me." Carefully, Blues pulled his brother up into a sitting position, letting him steady himself on his shoulder.
"Mm…" Rock shook his head, still not wanting to open his eyes. "…no. He needs to…be by himself…for a bit. I think…he realized something today."
"A bit of forever, if you ask me. C'mon, bro. Let's go home. You know how Roll worries."
Rock simply smiled, burying his nose into the familiar scent of Blue's ascot, as his brother held him to his chest, climbing slowly down the fire escape.
