Having too much free time is more of a curse than a blessing. One has plenty of time to think, and think some more, until, before you know it, you've overthought. Such is the life of someone destined to float in space for as long as they lived.

He had been programmed to spend every waking moment in space, so, unlike his brothers, he would never grow bored of the spectacular view. He never got tired of counting stars, or watching the Earth turn, or seeing the occasional shooting star close-up. He was often asked by his kin, "How do you stand it!? Don't you get bored?" He'd respond, brandishing a rose and a flamboyant attitude to match, that space was his one true home, his child, and that wasn't a lie by any means. He had to come back to Earth every now and again to relay status reports, or for repairs when Mega Man had shown up at his doorstep once again, and he always felt restless when he did, like a mother leaving her child alone for too long would become fretful. No matter what happened, he would always return to his home.

Even in space, though, he would sometimes feel like he didn't belong. He was built for combat, he knew that. His Star Crash was the best of both worlds, serving as both an adequate shield and a powerful attack. Coupled with his advanced gravity systems and tough steel armor, nothing should be able to stand in his way—yet, the very person he was created to destroy had destroyed him like there was nothing to it. Unlike the others, it was in his nature to take the defeat personally, and the wound it left, as much as he liked to dress it, had never properly healed. He doubted it ever will.

This was one thing he had overthought plenty. Why wasn't he good enough? He was built to be, wasn't he? What was he doing wrong? His creator was far from supportive, and that just made it worse. Wily had made it very clear that he had failed, and that it was his fault, not anyone else's. Who was he to distrust his own master?

He often stared off into space, quite literally, and found his eyes wandering to a star. His namesake, and rightfully so. They were alike, Star Man and the stars. Both sat perched in their spots, gazing at the whole world, one among trillions doing the same thing as he was.

So, whenever he felt especially desolate, he looked at the stars. It was then that Star Man felt truly at home.