Due Vendetta, a mega man fanfic

This isn't my first fanfic. It's not even my first Protomen fanfic. But it's my best fanfic =3 This has been online on my dA page for a while, but...had a few friends talk about this site, so I reckon I can upload it here too ^^ This little story marked a first for me, though. First project that I properly finished ^^

The basic idea behind this story is that Turbo Lover, one of the singers in The Protomen, plays the role of Dr. Wily. However, there's a theory that Turbo Lover is actually Wily from the past, kidnapped and brainwashed into working with them . So with that as my basis, and with loads of help from Lalalei2001 I went ahead and wrote this over the summer of 2010 =3

Speaking of Lalalei2001, I really need to thank her for all her help. Because i've never seen The Protomen live, writing parts of this would have been a huge struggle if not for her help. She linked me to videos and photos that helped inspire me (as well as teaching me about events in their history that I had no idea about ^^), and went over every single word of the story to help me fine-tune it. Plus, if it weren't for her and other friends keeping me writing, I doubt that i'd have ever finished it xD; I fully recommend checking out her stories, they're amazing!

So, here it is. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it ^^

-Akari MMS

He smiled. Tonight had gone well. No slip-ups, no off-notes, nothing. It had been one of their best performances to date in his mind. Afterwards, the fans had been pleasant and highly entertaining as always. However, despite all this, something seemed... odd. Waving in greeting at the rest of the band, he headed for the bathroom. The makeup was cloying, and if not removed soon would stain his skin. His "perfect" skin, which perfectly offset his "perfect" smile on his "perfect" face.

Turbo Lover was a man some considered to be close to perfect. Playing the role of a younger Wily showed off his natural charisma and charm, but sometimes it was hard to tell whether he was playing a role or living it. There was a reason behind this. Placing his fedora on the side in the bathroom and turning on the lone tap, he splashed his face with icy water, and immediately felt somewhat revived. Their life was tiring, always singing, always dancing, always travelling... He almost wished that they would not have to move again, but in order to escape Wily's clutches they had no choice but to do so. They had to survive, to stay free, to spread the message of Light.

Or did they?

This thought made him freeze. Of course they did. If they remained here, they would be caught, imprisoned, tortured and executed. What they were doing was treason, no doubt about it.

If it's treason... then stop. Redeem yourself...Albert...

He clenched his fists. This again. These thoughts of traitorous actions did come to mind, but he would never betray The Protomen. He had too much to redeem himself for already, crimes committed before he was...

...Wait. Did his mind just call him Albert?

Indeed I did...

This was not good. Turbo Lover turned away from the mirror, trying to suppress what was rising inside of him. The dark, dingy bathroom, with scribbled messages of desperation, hope and sorrow covering the walls, seemed to darken further, the single, small light flickering on and off. Not now. Fear gripped him, made him close his eyes. Something inside of him was re-emerging as he played this role. It was his burden to bear, one that no other member of The Protomen shared. He couldn't tell them about these relapses; the thought of what would happen then scared him.

Becoming Turbo Lover had not been a peaceful experience.

Clutching his head, he felt the suppressed memories returning in flickers, like a crowd of flashing cameras. He remembered... he had just done...something, and then he was taken by...a masked figure...

He had to get out of that room. Turning to face the door, he stepped forward, only to lose his footing and fall to the ground with a thud. Pain shot through his arms, but did nothing to stop the confusion in his head. He didn't want to remember these things, didn't want to remember the events that led to him being there, he just wanted to...

To sing?

Yes. To sing with the band, to help relay the truth, to spread the story so that people would remember what had happened., so that maybe they would rise up against the "Good Doctor".

Pitiful...

The memories continued to play in his mind. He had just left... an apartment... No, that had been a while ago. He had just given a press report live on television...

Yes, that was it, and was trying to leave as hundreds of journalists asked him countless questions. Now and again he replied, his voice taking on a stoic tone, now and again sounding sorrowful. An act, of course. He needed to keep in role. To lead the frenzied media circus, he had to be an emotional ringleader. Eventually, the crowd subsided, one or two asking what would now be considered trivial questions. Most likely for tabloid news sources. He broke them off, requesting time to console himself over the events, and then they too left.

Eventually, he was alone, walking the streets of the new City, heading for his car. However, as he reached it, a new voice was heard, one that was not entirely native to the area.

'Dr. Wily, we understand you're dealing with a lot at the moment, but... could I have a quick word?'

Turning around, Wily looked at this final journalist. Dressed fully in black, he certainly didn't look like the rest of the clowns he had encountered before. A red bandanna pushed his light brown hair away from his eyes, which were covered by aviator sunglasses. He certainly did not look like the kind of journalists that lived in the City, but... best to be safe than sorry.

"Depends on the word. I... am in need of time alone, you understand. Today has been truly shocking..." he replied, forcing tears to come into his eyes.

' Yes, well, no-one expected it to unfold like this... I was following Thomas Light's robotic developments, you see.'

He wanted to clench his fists. Thomas Light had always received the attention on the project, despite the fact that he had been the one with more talent when it came to robotics. They had been good friends, however... but in the end it had become clear that they were working towards different goals all along.

"I see..."

'The project was supposed to be culminating in your creation's activations today, wasn't it?' The man noted, pulling a folder out of a battered brown bag hanging from his shoulders.

"Indeed. The mining robots were tested, and found to be running at acceptable rates-"

'Very coincidental for these events to happen a few hours later then... and for Light's lover to be murdered in such a brutal manner.' The man's tone brought his obvious suspicions into play. This was worrying.

"Indeed, a sad coincidence..."

'Especially considering that the main suspect, Light, was obviously very devoted to her' the man continued, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of the folder.

A shocked look washed over Wily's face. The paper was stained with blood, and he recognized the handwriting. It was the letter Light had sent to Emily, the one he had been looking for. How had this man found it? That was incriminating...

He had to keep a straight face, but knew now that this man had to be silenced.

"Indeed he had been... May I see his letter?"

'How do you know it was his?'

"I... I worked with the man for many years, sir, I can recognize his handwriting... I... how did you get that?" Concern was clear in his voice, he felt no point in hiding it now. This was not an interview, that had dawned on him.

' Why, are you afraid that I read it? Because if you are, then I wouldn't need to to know what happened' the man replied, putting the letter back into the folder, before taking off his sunglasses.

At that point, someone – or something – grabbed Wily's arms, pulling him backwards. He yelled, struggling against the vice-like grip of his assailant, only to feel a hand covering his mouth, trying to silence him. The streets were empty, and no-one would have run to help him anyway. Mugging was common, and people were reluctant to stop someone for fear of their own lives. He was pulled into an alleyway, grimy and dark. No-one would see what would happen next, he knew that, and so he had to get himself out. The man threw the folder onto the ground, and countless other pictures spun out of it. Horrified, Wily realised that each was of him, at various times during the last few days. One was even at the point when he and Tom were arguing, which was impossible. No cameras were allowed in their offices, and there was no one else in at the time. How did they...

' No point struggling, Wily. KILROY isn't going to let go any time soon, and if a man can bend steel with his bare hands, there's no way he'll let you slip away' the man murmured, pulling a pair of fingerless gloves onto his hands. ' We know what you've done, Wily, and we know what you're planning to do.' He gestured at KILROY, and Wily felt the hand being removed from his mouth.

" How can you know what I've planned?"

' Because we're living through it in our timeline.'

"...What?"

The man turned away, crossing his arms. ' This isn't the time that we come from, Wily, but this City's events mirror the ones that's happened to ours. We can stop your plans from being enacted here... but this won't affect our timeline.'

"Hmph... then why bother, if it won't help you?"

The man turned to face him once more.

'Because we need you to stop your future self.'

"...Heh... so humanity is as weak minded as I thought-"

'No. People just need to realise the truth of the situation, and then they'll rise up against you. That's what we do.'

"We? I assume you mean this..." he tried to pull his arms free, to no avail, "thing behind me, as well as yourself... but two people can't stand against what I have planned."

'It's not just us two... And I wouldn't insult the man holding your arms back, personally. There's many more of us.'

"How many?"

'I can only tell you that... if you join us.'

"Join you? Now why would I do that?" he sneered, regaining some of his composure.

'It gives you a chance to redeem yourself, Wily. Surely you must feel some regret for what you've done.'

" I..." He mulled it over. Looking away from the man in front of him, he could sense that this man knew the answer... he had tried to justify it to himself before... but no. What was done was done. No regrets, no looking back. "If there ever was a time, if there ever was a chance, to undo the things I've done and wash these bloodstains from my hands..."

He lifted his head back up. "It is past, and been forgotten."

The man shook his head. ' Not quite.'

" Yes it has. What makes you think I'd give this up. I deserve this City. I've worked all my life towards this goal. Judging from how much you know about me, you know what I've been through..." His eyes closed, and a sinister chuckle rang through the alleyway.

'...You'll either join us peacefully, or we can do this the hard way' the man growled, a look mixed with concern and anger covering his face.

"You really think I'll just throw this all away for idle threats?"

' Idle?'

The man leant forward, pointing a finger straight into Wily's face. 'These aren't idle threats, Wily. We don't make promises we can't keep.'

"I'm not going anywhere" he replied, unfaltering in his expression.

'You're leaving this City with us, one way or another!'

"If that's the case, then you've forgotten something important."

' And what would that be?'

A noise behind him made the man jump. Spinning on the spot, he was suddenly looking straight into a single red light. The next moment, he was on the ground, sunglasses smashing into thousands of pieces as he was blinded temporarily, a sharp pain from his left arm flooding his remaining senses. Staggering back to his feet, the man seemed to realise what had happened. The Sniper! The red faded from his vision as he saw KILROY whacked in the back, the robot now pulling a knife from a holster on its leg. Rushing forward, the man grabbed the robotic limb just before the blade met its mark, and shoved the construction into the wall. He could hear Wily's footsteps, hear him running away. The man cursed under his breath, before regaining his focus.

'KILROY! Are you okay?' he shouted, struggling to keep Wily's Monster pinned to the wall. KILROY nodded, rising up again and taking the robot's arms in hand.

'I'll hold this thing, Panther. You get Wily.'

' Right... good luck!'

Panther ran after Wily, leaving his bandmate to fight the robot alone. KILROY was hardy, and he had faith in his fighting abilities, but right now he had to concentrate on catching the fleeing tyrant. Breathing deeply, he sprinted as fast as he could.

' You're not getting away, Wily!'

This made Wily glance back. So the Sniper hadn't managed to dispatch him just yet... no matter. He might not be much of a fighter, but if there was one other thing that the doctor could do, it was running like hell. The distance between the two men widened, Wily gaining hope. Maybe he would escape this event... and if he did, it could give him more power to control the media. He would twist this event to make it seem as though Light had set the Sniper on him, to further enrage the public-

That thought was cut short as Wily was tackled to the ground. He had been so lost in his plans that he had slowed down, and the man that he now knew was called...Panther... had caught up. Rolling to a stop, it was now his turn to feel pain rushing through his body. It felt like he had broken a rib.

' You're not...going...anywhere...Wily...' Panther wheezed, pinning him to the floor. Out of desperation, Wily tried to struggle free once more, but was finally knocked out by a swift punch to the face. Gasping for breath, he rolled to the ground, watching as KILROY approached, an oil-covered green helmet in his gloved hands. He stood there quietly, waiting for Panther to stop wheezing. Eventually, he managed to catch his breath, before slowly rising to his feet.

That...had not gone entirely to plan...

A knock on the door brought Turbo Lover to his senses. He felt groggy as he rose to his feet, opening the door. He...was not expecting to remember that. Suppressing that memory had taken a lot of effort, for it to re-emerge now...

'You've been taking your time in there, Turbo... you okay?' Commander asked, a slightly worried look on his face.

"I'm fine, just tired..."

'There was a thud earlier though... did you fall over?'

"...Yeah, didn't notice how wet the floor is in here"

Commander crossed his arms, a slightly doubtful look on his face. However, he didn't see any reason to doubt him. They'd be running ragged recently, deliberately performing more than usual to rally hope amongst the people of the City. They had felt like they were getting close to a breakthrough... this hope had faded slightly, as had their stamina. After tonight, they were planning on hiding out for a few weeks, recuperating themselves and repairing some of the instruments...

After a few seconds, Commander smiled and nodded at Turbo Lover.

'Good thing we're taking a break, you look completely shattered' he noted, laughing.

"Yeah, it's gonna be nice to rest up... but we need to get back to this as soon as we can."

' True that. I'll leave you to finish up in here, see you in five!'

And with that, Commander left, closing the door, leaving Turbo Lover alone, and...somewhat confused at what had just happened. How long had he been out? Why was he remembering that now? Did he want to remember it? He knew the answer to that was no. He had a purpose here, and the chance to change this City to something better than this.

...He sighed with relief. That voice in his mind didn't raise an argument. Good. Hopefully it would stay that way. It probably only re-emerged due to fatigue, something that he'd make sure wouldn't be a problem again. Walking towards the still running tap, he turned it off, picked his fedora up from the side, and had one last look in the mirror before leaving. He hadn't noticed one small change, however...

His eyes had turned blue.

A few weeks had passed since the Protomen's last concert, and the entire band felt cautiously optimistic about their next performance, despite their time off not exactly being...restful. They had managed to secure an abandoned warehouse for the concert, a larger venue than usual. It was good, for when they hadn't been performing, they had kept moving to avoid capture, something that had almost happened more than once over the last few days.

Tonight's performance promised to be dramatic.

There were only a few hours left, and whilst most of them felt ready, some were still setting up the instruments. Panther was checking the microphones, The Nightwalker was making sure that her trumpet was in tune, and Commander was checking the cables.

Turbo Lover was preening himself in the reflection of a guitar.

The City had grown quieter over the last few weeks. Without them, it seemed as though people lost their fire. Minor rebellions had dried up, with only one happening... and that had been subdued frighteningly efficiently. People seemed content to listen to the mantra, with no other sounds to drown it out. That was...worrying. Was what they were doing pointless, if mankind wouldn't stand for themselves after everything they had done?

...He shook his head, forcing those thoughts out. He had been haunted by the memories he had remembered after their last performance, shaken by the re-emergence of a part of him he thought was dead. If he kept focused on tonight, it wouldn't come back. He'd make sure of that.

Finally deciding that he couldn't possibly comb his hair any more, Turbo Lover stood up, tucking the comb back into the breast pocket of his grey suit. Deciding to get out of the way of those actually setting things up, he walked off the stage, jumping to the floor, and decided to stand by The Gambler. Something about her made him relax, possibly because of her role as Emily, more likely just because she, like the rest of the band, was a comrade in their fight. They all understood each other almost innately, so much so that secrets were rare between them.

The two had just started talking, however, when something strange began to happen. The mantra that constantly boomed through the streets became quiet as a crackle of static filled the ears of all who lived in the City. Everyone dropped what they were doing, instinctively looking towards the source of the noise. All over the City, the telescreens stopped showing the mantra, rolling slowly over their monitors, as the face of a man everyone knew appeared in it's place.

The "Good Doctor" cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"My people... I trust that you know why I speak to you now. You have all become much more compliant. This is good. However, I do not waste my own time to simply announce that. This is not a broadcast of praising merits, but rather one of denouncing false heroes."

The band all looked at each other. Any sense of optimism they had had was now gone.

"As you all well know, these so-called prophets have been spreading dissent amongst the City, amongst each and every one of you," he continued, " but rest assured, we will find them, and this City shall be safe. Right now they hound those who do not believe their lies, forcing them to see things their way, or, as was the case with their long-dead "friend", Doug Fetterman... kill them for simply not agreeing."

Turbo Lover stiffened. These broadcasts happened from time to time, and these kinds of statements were not uncommon. The Protomen had not wanted him to die, he had simply been the victim of a tragic accident, a performance gone horribly wrong. This was one of Wily's most common ploys used against the band, twisting his betrayal to Wily into one against them. However, considering the events that he had gone through recently, Turbo Lover could not help but feel that the usually empty words...

Might actually ring true?

...No. He was simply trying to unnerve them, to scare the people. His words were empty as always, and he would simply ignore them.

"Fetterman had long been loyal to my cause, to our cause, and his death brought sorrow to this City. However, if the Protomen believe this gave them an advantage, they are truly mistaken. One man fell for our cause, but this does not mean that our cause is lost. Do not believe their lies. Do not believe their words. Do not believe the Protomen. Believe in the Robot Masters, believe in the Sniper Joes, and believe in me, for we are your hope, we keep you safe, and we are in control."

And with that, Wily disappeared from the screen, the Mantra resuming its usual broadcast through the speakers. The group remained quiet for a short while, before Commander sighed.

'Pssh... Complete and utter garbage' he muttered. 'The man ruins Fetterman's name, and for what cause? Keeping humanity as his slaves? If people really want that, then we wouldn't be-'

'There's no point wasting our energy talking about what he said' Panther interrupted. There was a hurt tone to his voice. ' We all know it's lies. C'mon, we still have work to do here, and there's only two hours until the people arrive.'

Everyone nodded, returning to what they were doing before, this time with a tense atmosphere hanging over everyone's head, like a guillotine. The Gambler turned back to Turbo Lover, but he had gone. He needed to be alone for a while, needed to just...clear his mind. Leaning against the wall in the corridor, his face covered by his hand, he felt a familiar sense of panic rise in him. Not again. That voice had returned. He did not need this, did not want this. He had his job, his duty, his mission to do tonight, and could not do with any distractions.

None of them had expected that to happen, especially so near to a concert. It almost seemed like a warning, as though Wily knew about tonight, but this couldn't be possible. In fact, it was incredibly unlikely. Probably just bad luck to have the broadcast at that time. It would make them all nervous throughout the gig. Still, being nervous was better than being captured.

If you were captured...

You could tell Wily what happened to you...

How they changed you...

Forced you to-

Stop it he pleaded, trying to subdue the voice in his mind. I do not want to be captured, and I'll never work with that madman!

Why not? He achieved my dream... OUR dream. He embodies our hopes and ambitions, our reward for dedicating our lives to the study of robotics!

He might embody your plans, but not mine. You dedicated your life to enslaving; I'll dedicate mine to freedom-

You really call this...freedom?

Pressing his hands to his temples, Turbo Lover winced, before walking down the corridor. He couldn't let anyone see him like this, couldn't let anyone else worry about his wellbeing. He'd be fine... he just had to learn to control this.

You can't control me, Albert. I am you. You can't control yourself.

I am not you. And don't call me Albert... My name...is Turbo Lover!

The voice in his mind seemed to laugh. Losing his balance, he slipped, but managed to balance himself against a window. He had walked a long way away from the concert hall, and could see the lights City spread out in front of him through the night, and his face reflected in the glass...

But it was not his face, but the face of the man he once was. A man painted with the vain "W" Turbo Lover wore during his performances stared back at him, a sinister grin on his face and a dangerous look in his blue eyes, contrasting the terror in his own, brown eyes.

"You see all of this?" his reflection seemed to say, gesturing across the City. "If you would just reach out and grab it, it could be yours. Ours. We could control this City alongside the Wily of this universe, if only you'd accept who you really are"

"I don't want to control the City. I want to set the people who live in it free!" he shouted in reply, anger making his voice louder. The reflection seemed to laugh at this, the same chuckle he remembered from his memories.

"But you are just a construction, a fake personality created to control you. I am who you really are!"

"It doesn't matter who I am, but what I do!"

"Do you really believe that?"

"I'd rather believe that than believe you."

The reflection seemed to become annoyed. It turned it's back on Turbo Lover, crossing its arms.

"These people really have gotten to you... pathetic, Albert."

"Turbo Lover. And no, they showed me that what you wanted to do was wrong, something that I always knew deep inside."

The reflection laughed again, louder this time, and once more he had to press his hands to the side of his head, trying to stop the splitting headache that had started as suddenly as a car crash in his mind.

"You held my views of this City, once." the reflection eventually said, turning to face him once more. "Or have you forgotten?"

The headache worsened. Turbo Lover could feel his ability to think leeched away, replaced by the pain and a feeling of helplessness. His vision darkened, his eyelids growing heavy as the reflection changed from the side of him he wanted to hide to something else. The City seemed to disappear, the glass becoming grey, static washing over his ears. He wanted this to stop, tried to struggle free from the noise, but knew that it was hopeless as more and more memories dragged themselves from the depths of his mind.

Memories of his first day in this City, in the City that was clearly not the one he knew, and yet was identical in layout and history...

Apart from one important detail...

This City had been controlled by Wily. The one he had come from no longer had that threat.

This was painfully remembered by Wily, hands bound behind him as he looked across the cracked and ruined street, illuminated only by flickering orange streetlamps and the harsh blue light of the telescreens, noting the shadows of the people of this City, huddled into shadowy corners or around any sources of heat they could find. He stiffened as he looked around, feeling their eyes staring at him and remembering the events that had happened to him just a short while ago, but to this City likely never happened at all.

" Why are we here, Raul Panther?" he groaned. It hurt to speak; the punch to his face that had rendered him unconscious beforehand had badly bruised his cheek, turning his handsome face into a purple mess. The bruise had been treated as best as possible, but it always took time for them to heal.

'Just call me Panther' he replied, a new pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. He still wore all black, but his clothes seemed... grimier here, covered in patches of dirt and diesel. The pristine quality they had before had long gone, as in this time, where survival was the top priority, cleanliness was not a requirement, at least not for the clothing. His acoustic guitar, strapped to his back, was scratched but lovingly cleaned, a precious item that was in stark contrast to the rest of the City, as well as a blatant show of rebellion towards Wily's rule. 'And I want you to see what the world you wanted to create looks like.'

"Hmph..."

Wily turned away from his captor, an indignant look on his face. "It's not going to change my mind, no matter what you show me, Raul Panther."

'...'

Panther walked ahead of him. His mood was unreadable, for whilst his face seemed worried, his body language seemed relaxed, much moreso than he had been before. He too had a bruise, one that covered his left arm from his elbow to his shoulder, but he had refused to let it stop him from doing his job.

'You're not making this any easier for yourself' he said, gesturing for Wily to follow him. Having no other choice, he complied, looking away from his captor. He kept testing the strength of the handcuffs, hoping to find some weakness in their grip, but it was useless. Their steel chains would not give.

"Why would I listen to you?" he snorted, noting a collection of posters plastered to the walls, each with separate slogans and different images. The one that caught his eye was that of an old man. He assumed that it was the Wily of this universe, and felt somewhat worried. Is that what he would look like when he grew older? The thought of it made him shudder.

'Because otherwise this City will eat you alive' Panther replied, noting the shuddering movement. He assumed that it was a sign of fear of this hellish place, that maybe bringing the "Good Doctor" out of the dingy building that they had been hiding in and onto the streets would help show Wily the error of his ways. Adjusting his sunglasses, he turned to face the handcuffed man. 'Scared of that happening?'

"Not really. People can be manipulated easily, told to play roles they never thought they could" Wily replied, a smug look once more coming over his face, one that looked twisted by the purple blotch covering his face. "Being scared is an alien concept to me, Raul Panther. In every situation, you are given a blank canvas, and different tools to paint with. My tools are knowledge and confidence. Having fear in that spectrum would simply clash with the other colours."

Wily looked at Panther's face, smirking at his now worried expression before his eyes swept over the streets, absorbing the scene. "You see these people, Raul Panther, you see the grime and the cracks and the chaos. To you this street is just that, and nothing more, but to me... the contrast between the blue light of those television screens and the darkness of those alleyways, the flickering of the orange streetlamps and the shadows that they cast, the emptiness of the streets..."

He nodded towards an alleyway. "and the crowded back alleys filled with those that believe every word , topped by the man that you fear's fortress rising high above the cityscape...this City is not a location, it's a masterpiece, painted by a master. Your Wily is an artist. I have that same potential-"

Panther turned back to face Wily, anger washing over his face before he controlled himself. 'The only kind of artist he is, Wily, is a con artist' he growled. 'The people here live in terror, are fed lies and forced to believe them or die. The only lights are harsh and unforgiving, the darkness the only slight haven, the food is either scarce or rotten and the robots are unforgiving and quick to give their warped judgement on humanity. All because you lied, and because this Wily built the city to satisfy his vain beliefs.'

"His beliefs weren't vain. He deserved this City. I deserved this City."

'This Wily stole the City from Thomas Light. You wanted to, and for what? Recognition? Glory? Power? If that isn't vanity then I don't know what is'

"Then you don't know what it is."

Panther turned away, shaking his head, once more gesturing at Wily to follow him. Once more, he complied, his eyes resting on the guitar strapped to his captor's back. Suddenly, a new plan was born in his mind... there was no other member of Raul Panther's gang of musical thugs with them. This meant that, if he could escape from the handcuffs, he had a decent chance of grabbing that guitar and-

Panther froze. Bumping into him, Wily scowled as he was broken out of his thoughts, hitting his head on the guitar. "Why'd you stop?"

Then he saw the people running through the streets. The sound of feet, stampeding on concrete, echoed by the thud of metal, an alien thud of metal to his ears, but one that was all too familiar to everyone else.

The Sniper Joes were parading through the streets.

Wily felt Panther grab him by the collar and pull him away, and panic took over his senses, making him run behind his captor, dragged through the crowds of people he didn't know and didn't care about. Then the screams started, the robots opening fire on the crowd. The sound of bones breaking, flesh tearing and dying howls filled everyone's ears, driving them all to run faster. For the first time in Wily's life, he shared an emotion with the general public.

Fear.

The crowd seemed to grow in size, the sense of panic concentrating. He felt his face betray his fear, just before another jerking movement pulled him into a dark alleyway. Panther was leading them away from the chaos, into the calmness of the shadows. The running slowed to a walk, before they both eventually stopped, collapsing against the alley walls. Both desperately tried to catch their breath, Panther's breathing more ragged than Wily's, taking longer to recover.

This let Wily absorb his surroundings, and to his horror he realised that he recognized this place. This was the alleyway that the man next to him had dragged him into, before kidnapping him. Anger surged through him as the memories played in his mind. He remembered being tricked into dropping his guard, his hands pinned behind him. He remembered the threats, remembered Panther trying to convince him through guilt. He remembered catching them off-guard with his creation, remembered running for his life...and he remembered how his foolishness had led to him being captured and punched in the face.

'Still think this City is beautiful?'

Panther's voice broke him out of his thoughts once more. Making a mental note to stop getting so wrapped up in them, Wily stood up, with some difficulty, and walked to the other side of the alleyway.

"Every Masterpiece has had its critics..."

Panther frowned, standing up himself before dusting himself down. Wily's scowl returned to his face.

"Oh, and don't think I owe you for saving my life there, Panther. If you hadn't handcuffed me-"

'Surely you should say Raul Panther, Wily?' Panther interrupted, the frown replaced by a mischievous grin. Wily opened his mouth to reply, to come up with something to beat Panther's words down...but having no words come to his lips, he closed his mouth and turned away with nothing more than a "hmph" to look at the irritatingly similar surroundings.

The place had certainly become dirtier since the last time he had been here. Or maybe it had always been this grimy, as he realized that he didn't really have time to absorb the details of the place on his last visit. However, what were definitely "new" additions were more posters of this universe's Wily, and one of another robot he barely recognized from a blueprint Tom and he had started planning, a small security robot with a built-in camera. Obviously, the design had been sound. He smirked, before looking back at Panther, who was checking his guitar for scratches.

"...I assume you and your group's rebellion motivates these killings?" Wily enquired, leaning against the wall in as nonchalant a manner he could muster. Panther looked away from his guitar.

'That had nothing to do with us' he explained, leaning the guitar against the wall carefully. 'They're done to make examples of humanity before they try to rise against him, to further instil fear in us all. Wily does that every other week to keep us in check.'

"A pity they keep missing you."

This made Panther visibly flinch. The man in front of him had just lived through one of Wily's pointless killing sprees, and that was all he had to say? No sympathy for those who died, only that he should've been amongst them? He felt confused, and his expression clearly showed it. A weakness had shown itself; Wily wasn't going to let this go to waste.

"If they did capture and kill you, Raul Panther, it seems likely to me that these events would at least be lessened. Surely your "band" are deliberately agitating the masses, rather than letting them accept this fate?" he noted, standing up straight and starting to pace slowly. "After all, false hope is just as cruel as torture in some books, moreso in others, and I don't know how long you've been trying to spread these messages of "hope", but looking on as an outsider..." He stopped for effect, both his speech and his pacing, looking Panther straight in the eyes, or at least as much as he could considering his sunglasses. "I can clearly see that it just isn't working."

'We know that we'll be doing what we're doing for a long time, Wily. We know because we used to be the same as those people' Panther replied, the confused look gone from his face, replaced by one of a stoic temperament.

"Really now?"

'Yup. We used to be part of that crowd of people, running and hiding, trying to survive to the next day. We knew something was wrong, but that didn't change anything...until one day we found someone...'

He trailed off, leaving Wily curious, but unwilling to sate it. He seemed to smile in an almost caring manner when he said, "Odd. Somehow I imagined your rabble had been fighting against your Wily from the second you left the womb, bandannas and all."

Panther laughed. 'Sadly, that isn't the case; otherwise this nightmare might not exist now...'

Another silence stretched between the two, Panther considering Wily's joke a sign that he might be getting through to him, and Wily cursing it in his mind. He knew that Raul Panther was a likable man, his charisma reminded him of himself, the way he could get people to feel comfortable around him, to make them trust him, to see his way of thinking and believe it. He himself knew that he was already starting to see some things in Pan-Raul Panther's way. There was needless suffering here, true... but Wily was a strong man. He knew that humanity deserved this suffering, and that he deserved this City. With his mind set on that, he broke the silence once more.

"This nightmare won't end, Raul Panther. The only way I can get out of it is not to join you, but to have you killed" he decided on saying, a grim look on his face. Panther soon matched this, before he sighed once more, crossing his arms.

'Think about it. If we're killed, you would be too. After all... you would've been seen with us, talked with us, travelled with us... That's more than just a little suspicious, isn't it?'

"Seen with you? It's been a day at most!"

'Look, do you really think I would come out in the streets usually in these clothes?' Panther asked, 'and with a guitar strapped to my back?'

"Why not? It's foolhardy, but everything you people do is-"

'When we travel, we wear civvies. Normal clothing. Not this stage outfit, otherwise we would have been caught years ago.'

"True... that outfit is far from inconspicuous... but then, why choose to wear it-Hang on..." He realised why, before Panther confirmed his fears.

'I wore it so the telescreens and the cameras would focus on me and, by proxy, you. After all, you're wearing the same type of clothes we wear now... keeping you in your suit would've been too dangerous, though.'

"So in other words, you've trapped me" Wily muttered bitterly.

'Yeah. Sorry, but I had no choice. We need you, Wily. We need your help, for the sake of this City.'

An odd feeling came over Wily, one he hadn't felt since Tom refused to help him with his plan... betrayal. He felt betrayed by Panther, trapped into a corner he couldn't fight out of. However, being backed into a corner didn't mean that he had to give up.

"So you have me on camera with you. Big deal. I'm handcuffed. Surely that would be suspicious."

'True, but not as suspicious as you talking to me. In this City, that's a death sentence.'

Wily's eyes widened, but he showed no other reaction. A new idea came to mind.

"This is a waste of time then. You know you have me backed into a corner. I run, I die. I stay... in a way, I die regardless. I'll have to give up everything that shapes me. I refuse to do that."

Panther didn't reply, instead leaning against the wall behind him once more, his arms still crossed as he stared at the man in front of him as he noticed something new to him.

"...Have those words played the entire time I've been here?" he asked, curious. He had heard the Mantra, booming through the streets. Oddly, he hadn't noticed it before, too wrapped up in himself and his predicament.

'It's Wily's Mantra' Panther explained, bowing his head slightly. 'It always plays, the same three sentences at the same beat every second of every day of every month of every year of my life, of the lives of all in the Protomen.'

"Hmm...Interesting that is has a rhythm close to iambic pentameter."

'Huh?' Panther raised his head.

"Iambic pentameter is when a sentence has five syllables, giving a steady pattern to the sound. It makes people more impressionable to what's being said. "We have Control, We keep you Safe, We are your Hope" only have four... I don't think iambic quartameter exists, but if it did, it would be defined as that."

'I honestly didn't expect you to know that, Wily' Panther admitted, smiling once more.

"Art comes in more than one form, you know."

'Yeah. Music's a form of art... another form banned in this City.'

"It makes sense to ban music. It's inspirational to people, driving them to do things they might not do otherwise..."

'You've got it.'

Panther's smile grew into a grin. Wily realised what he had said, and understood his reaction. Music was important, true, but not as important as retribution.

Eventually, Wily shook his head. "Yes, I understand about music, and appreciate it, but I won't join you, Raul Panther. Even if I can't rule this town, I'll find a way to serve the 'Good Doctor'. Who knows...if my future self gets too old for the job...perhaps he'd appoint me leader."

The grin disappeared from Panther's face. 'You really think Wily would trust another human?'

"If that human was himself, possibly, yes" Wily sneered. "And humanity would learn to fear me as they fear him."

Panther walked slowly towards him, his fists clenched. His mood had changed completely, a growl growing in his throat. Wily backed into the wall as he approached, holding his breath, not sure how else to react as Panther roared.

'Look what you'd become with this City you'd create. Ruling through fear. You may think you deserve it, but it wouldn't win you any popularity contests. There would be those who would overthrow you. People who would risk everything, even the robots, to see you dead!'

His shout echoed through the alleyways, before fading to leave the mantra and it's message of oppression. Panther was face to face with Wily, close enough for him to see through the tint of the sunglasses and look at his eyes, the pupils wide. After a while, Panther stepped back, turning away from him and walking back to his guitar, slightly ashamed he'd become angry. It was something that was against his nature. Wily breathed out, relaxing. He wasn't overly fussed about hurting Panther's feelings, he was just happy that he'd backed off. Still, he wanted to know just one thing...

"Tell me, Raul Panther... you ask me to join you, want me to give up everything I have worked towards... but for what gain to you?"

'...I'm fighting for this City, Wily, for the day when a person can be free, when a child doesn't have to be scared all the time, for the time when the truth is known'

"Yes yes, very honourable, but what are you fighting for, personally?"

Panther picked up the guitar, and sat down, leaning against the wall. 'I've lost a lot of very good friends whilst doing this... and for a cause that does seem impossible at times, but I have to keep fighting...'

He closed his eyes, adjusting the guitar on his lap, and strummed the strings absentmindedly. 'But why? I can't express that through words...'

He started playing a tune. One that seemed nostalgic, that held emotions, that showed them in every note. Wily felt like he knew the song, despite having never heard it before. His thoughts trailed back to the good times, the times he spent with Tom and...Emily. The laughs, the joys, the ideas... By god, the ideas they had when they first met. They planned out their lives together, decided to concentrate on robotics, honed their skills, and became the best at their craft...

And then he betrayed them...

...No. Tom had betrayed him.

He felt anger flare inside of him as the song ended, not noticing the single tear run down Panther's cheek, or the countless ones running down his.

"You...Why... Why did you make me remember?" he shouted angrily, all pretense gone. Rage fueled his words, rushed through his entire body. Emotions that he had tried to hold back came flooding out.

'That song makes everyone remember something different, Wily' Panther replied, rising to his feet again. 'Good times, bad times, remorse, happiness.. the spectrum of emotions it makes people feel is painted, not with tools of knowledge and confidence, but with sorrow, fear, hope and memories.'

"Y-You call yourself an artist?"

He shook his head. 'No. I call myself a storyteller.'

Wily struggled to break the handcuffs binding him. He wanted to hit Panther, to show him what happens when he lets this emotion loose, but there was no give in the steel. The steel would never bend or break, and his hands would not be free while his captors held the keys in theirs. Instead, he tried to shake his trilby hat over his eyes, before realizing that it was gone. It must have fallen off in the panic of the stampede. That was his favourite hat, too...

He forced the tears to stop, ashamed of the emotional display, and composed himself. Panther waited, watching carefully. Despite his hands being free, he made no effort to wipe his single tear away. It was a reminder of a good friend, lost long ago now... the least he could do to honour him was not to wipe that memory away.

Eventually, Wily's tears dried, staining his bruised face. His voice, however, had returned to it's calm, treble note.

'Even if I do remember those times, they are gone. The day Light turned his back on me, his fate was sealed...' He sniggered shortly. 'By now, the police would have found him, taken him to court. He'd be found guilty...and be dead by now."

'He wouldn't. He was found not guilty.'

"What?"

'There wasn't any actual incriminating evidence at the scene. His fingerprints weren't on the knife, and his reaction to police arriving was put down to his emotional state at the time. Thomas Light walked from the Courts a free man.'

"So all my hard work was for nothing? Unless you're just telling your story to try and trick me!"

'You should know that the story we tell isn't ours, Wily. It's Light's. You may think you'd own this City, but...there would be those who would resist you, those who'd challenge your power.'

Panther took off his sunglasses, carefully tucking them into the front of his shirt, and for the first time Wily looked him in the eyes. Green, determined eyes met his blue, cold ones. An honourable man talks face-to-face, eye-to-eye. What he was about to say must be important, he thought.

'Light was taken out of the City. Your manipulation of the public made them defy the court ruling, so he was escorted to safety, but he came back, Wily. He came back with one purpose, one mission that he was set on.'

"And what, pray tell me, is that mission, Raul Panther?"

'To kill you, Albert Wily.'

The emotion of fear was becoming too familiar to Wily today. He stepped back, visibly shaking, the chain on his handcuffs rattling. This was what he was afraid of, what he had tried to stop happening. Thomas Xavier Light wanted him dead, and nothing would have stopped him...

...Nothing would have stopped him, but...

Wily stopped shaking, and began to laugh, a sinister cackle that made Panther worried. Laughing at that news? Why would he laugh at that?

"Nothing would have stopped Light from killing me... from killing your Wily?" He said finally, his laughter ceasing.

'Yeah.'

"So then why, pray tell me, do you need me, because surely he must have succeeded at this plan years ago...But he didn't, did he?"

'...'

"He failed, didn't he? He failed miserably; most likely his failure caused the City to fully enter your Wily's hands. And even if he tried again, he failed then too. Thomas Light is a failure, Raul Panther. He's failed to stop your Wily, so now you need me to stop that Wily, which means even YOU can't stop him. But if I say no, then you all just keep on failing! HA! That is poetic justice!"

He laughed once more, but was interrupted. Panther had slammed him into the wall, winding him badly. Gasping for breath, Wily was pinned to the wall roughly by his shoulders. He could see the rage in his eyes.

'It's time to make your final choice Wily' he whispered, "You can either be a hero... or we can build one out of you.'

"You don't get it, do you, Raul Panther..." Wily responded. "To this City...I AM a hero."

Panther shook his head and let go of Wily's shoulders, letting him fall to the ground as he walked back to his guitar once more, slinging it over his shoulders.

'We'd prefer not to, but if pushed far enough, we have no choice' he said, sorrow clear in his voice.

"Nothing you try will work, so do your worst..."

The sad look on Panther's face became one of pure sorrow as he put his sunglasses back on and helped Wily to his feet. Looking into the glasses, he could see only a reflection of himself...but with a vain "W" painted over the bruise...

The tint faded from the glass, becoming plain once more, dirt and cracks marking the window... but the reflection remained. Turbo Lover stared at his reflection, at "Wily".

"You see, Albert... That has always been the flaw in their reasoning. If the man with the most reason to kill this universe's Wily hasn't, what hope do these people have?" he taunted, a victorious look on his face.

"As long as there's one person in the City that knows something is wrong here, there's hope" Turbo Lover replied, struggling to speak. "Wily" was trying to control him, to control his body. He felt shocks go through his body, the pain in his head growing in intensity with every passing second. He struggled onwards. "The Protomen will stand against you, Wily. We'll bring this universe's Wily crashing down, make him fall from the tower he so proudly stands on!"

A laugh echoed inside his mind, the reflection shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. "Why haven't you then? Why haven't you all just marched to his tower, smashed through his robots and destroyed him? Oh, if only the people would rally beside them, but...there's something wrong here, like this whole City wants to scream, but no-one makes a sound, right?" it asked, shocking him. By using those lyrics, it was trying to make the Protomen, to make Panther, seem like hypocrites. "Someone just thinking something is wrong isn't enough, Albert. Humanity has lost the will to fight, curbed away by brilliant psychological and physical manipulation of the masses. History has always named the proletariat "Those without a voice", not because they cannot shout, but because they refuse to. You need to understand that. In fact, you already do..."

The reflection left the window, stepping forward. A ghostly Wily stood in front of Turbo Lover, its expression unchanging as it lifted a single hand, pointing a single finger at his face.

"After all, even you asked yourself "Was everything we've done pointless, if mankind wouldn't stand for themsel-"

"Shut up."

Turbo Lover clenched his fists, his fedora casting a shadow over his closed eyes. It was clear that he was angry, something Wily reveled in.

"Oh? Losing your temper? I'm only telling the truth-"

"SHUT UP!"

Quicker than lightning, Turbo Lover threw a punch at Wily, going through it's face and smashing the window into millions of shards. His hand was instantly covered in scratches, but he ignored the pain. The sound of cheap glass falling on concrete, some shards shattering further, was all that could be heard. He opened his eyes.

Wily was gone.

Sighing with relief, he collapsed against the cracked wall, unclenching his hands and watching the blood trickle downwards. Someone was going to notice this, ask what he had done. It would be suspicious, but worth it to shut Wily up. Besides, he could still perform, one of his hands was fine to hold a mic...

"...Crap!"

Jumping to his feet, he ran back down the corridors, returning to the band. He still had work to do, important work, and nothing would stop him from doing his duty. As he ran, a song came to mind, not one of theirs, but one that they had found on an old tape, one that seemed to touch home with every member of the band. Turbo Lover knew the lyrics by heart, and right now, the chorus seemed fitting...

Can you hear me?

Can you hear me running?

Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?

It was time.

The abandoned warehouse had come back to life, crowds of people packed into the building, an excited murmur resonating through the air. Many of those there tonight had seen the band before, wearing red bandannas and roughly made clothing made from the scraps they could find, deliberately different in design from the standard-issued grey clothing that they wore in day-to-day life. These people were the loudest, chanting for the band to appear. Some, however, were new to these events, curiously eyeing the instruments on the makeshift stage as though they had dropped from space. They might as well have, for instruments were banned in Wily's City, and to even see a photo of one was mesmerizing and dangerous. They were nervous, unsure of what was going to happen, and fearful of being discovered.

All however shared a feeling of hope and a vision of a better tomorrow, for that was why they had come at all. Every one of them had kindling in their eyes, hearts and souls; ready to receive the spark of music to make them flare into a wildfire. Each was eager to listen, to find the truth, and then be ready, willing and prepared to fight for it.

Backstage, the band was anxious. Everyone's face was almost emotionless, each preparing in their own way, but each too with a fire in their eyes. Commander had a twitch in his hands, ready to play his synthesizers. Reanimator spun his drumsticks absentmindedly. The Nightwalker was checking that everything on her trumpet was in working order, and The Gambler was checking the vocorders. Everyone was doing something to get ready, to sing, to perform.

None could perform, however, until KILROY had riled the people, bringing the emotions forbidden in Wily's society, the society in which they worked, the society in which they lived, to life. It was more than just a way to rally the people. It broke down psychological barriers that stopped them expressing themselves truly, hence why the concerts were chaotic affairs.

Turbo Lover shifted from foot to foot, fiddling with his comb. Despite the events that had happened that day, he was feeling incredibly optimistic. Adrenaline was running through his veins, he was impatient for the concert to start. The Gambler noticed this, wondering why he seemed so...upbeat. Usually, he was much more pensive, more worried, testing his voice quietly.

'Turbo, you're very cheerful' she noted, smiling kindly.

"Yeah, I'm not sure why, but...despite everything today, I feel that this concert's going to be one of our best yet."

'Here's hoping... we've been out of it for a while.'

"At least we got a little rest though, that should help-"

A roar from the crowd interrupted the conversation. That was their cue.

'Well, good luck, Turbo.'

"Thanks, you too."

She nodded, before they all walked onto stage. Now they had to play their roles, wear the expressions that the face paint denoted. The music started to play, the first song of "Will of One", the face-melting rock serving as a warm-up to the rest of the concert. By the time they reached the final chorus, everyone was well into their roles. Turbo Lover yelled his lines, accompanied by The Nightwalker and The Gambler, and both noted that he seemed...more into his role than usual.

Just as the song ended, however, something strange began to happen. One of the stage lights shone right into his eyes, blinding him. He staggered backwards, but as he regained his balance, a flash went through his mind, and he saw a silhouette of an unknown man in front of him...

No, he wasn't unknown. It was Commander. He tried to move his arms, but couldn't. He was tied to a chair, unable to move. Strange devices had been strapped onto him, ones that looked more at home in a hospital...

'Albert Wily, this really is your last chance. Will you join us?' Commander asked, his face devoid of expression.

"I stand alone, Commander. Do your worst."

'You brought this on yourself...'

Commander left, leaving him alone in the room with nothing for company but darkness and the single bright light. Brought what on himself? He was about to find out...

Pain shot through his body, unexpected pain that made him cry out. He was being electrocuted, shocked through his nerve endings, making him lose his self control. He was unable to stop himself from reacting, the jolts were too much...

It stopped. He breathed deeply, ragged breaths that shook his entire body. Then the door opened, and KILROY stepped inside. He couldn't bring himself to talk, and so continued trying to catch his breath as the android disappeared into the blackness. Suddenly, a piercing sound resonated through the room, making him wince, but not as much as when the electricity was turned on once more...

Turbo Lover found himself backstage; leaning against a wall, sweat breaking on his brow. From the sound of things, Vengeance was about to end, Panther singing at the top of his lungs and guitar strains fusing into a song that would make the weakest man feel up to a fight. Their water supply was nearby, and suddenly his throat seemed dry. He went to get a drink as the song ended, opening a bottle and drinking. He felt revitalized, and the smile returned to his face. The flashback worried him, but... it was probably just triggered by that light. Besides, he had a job to do, and nothing would stop him from doing so. With that thought, he took another swig of the water, just as the next song started to play.

"The Intermission."

He remembered the first time he'd heard the song, and found his eyes welling up with tears once more. Forcing them back, he walked back to the stage, nodding to Murphy to say he was fine. He wasn't, but letting the band know would ruin the concert, he couldn't let that happen. And so, he stared at the crowd as the guitars strummed their nostalgic tune, watched their reactions. Some cried, like he almost had. Some had a knowing look on their faces. Others were simply enthralled by the whole event. The final bar of the song played, and he walked towards the spare microphone, taking off his trademark fedora and combing his hair. This earned him a few whistles from the crowd, a small portion dedicated to him and his grooming habits.

The song changed, flowing seamlessly into "The Good Doctor". Panther picked up his guitar, and as he sang his voice became low, demonstrating his impressive vocal range.

'My father worked the mines until the day it took his life... Stole him from his only son and it stole him from his wife...And I swore upon his grave, someday I would make things right.'

The tone of his voice seemed more than just familiar tonight, Turbo Lover noted, waiting for his cue as Panther continued singing his lines. He had heard him sing in this tone many a time, but that was not why it felt so innately familiar tonight. It was as though someone else was singing the words, a man that Wily wanted dead more than anything else...

"So I learned how to bend steel. I learned how to make it move," He seemed to close his eyes at this point, losing himself in the song. "And I watched as it withstood all the hell we put men through... With hands of iron, there's not a task we couldn't do." He opened his eyes, and turned to face Turbo Lover, a look close to desperation in his eyes as he sang the chorus.

"They've waited so long for this day, someone to take the death away. No son would ever have to say "My father worked into his grave!" '

Panther stopped singing. Now it was his turn.

"Tom, listen to yourself, then listen carefully to me." He had one hand on the microphone, the other emphasizing his words through movement. "If you replace the working parts, you get a different machine..." He pulled the microphone from it's stand, began to walk towards the centre of the stage. "The man who turns the wheels, they will follow anywhere he leads."

Turbo Lover lost himself in the role, as he always did. People used to say that playing the villain was more fun than playing the hero, but this was more than just playing a role. Resentment became clear in his voice as he continued. "We've spent our whole lives searching for a way to make a better world." His hand swept over the crowd. "Giving everything to them, asking nothing in return." His hand clenched into a fist. "Well here it is: our chance to take back everything we've earned."

The performance was flawless as the song proceeded, the two singers seemingly becoming enraged at each other.

'They've waited so long for this day,' "They've waited so long for this day!"

'Someone to take the death away,' "There is no price they wouldn't pay"

'No son would ever have to say,' "For someone else to lead them..."

'My father worked into his grave!'

"DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!"

Panther played his part, turning away from Turbo Lover. The crowd fell silent, leaving just the instruments' almost rumble-like notes hanging in the air. Tension rose with the temperature, the characters seemingly coming to life on stage. It was as though the audience was watching the original scene unfold, a usual occurrence, but never to the extent that it seemed tonight. The two men seemed as though they were actually locked in a battle of words, one that people knew would end badly.

'What will I become with the things I will create?'

Turbo Lover froze. That line carried more weight than he had ever realized. Was he talking about...

'I never said that men should bow. I never said that men should break.' Panther continued, looking at the ground, before turning back to face the crowd. 'I only want what's best.'

Another flash in his mind, more sudden this time. His eyes seemed to show contempt as his mind went elsewhere.

He was back in the room with a single light. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, but he wouldn't give in. The warped sound was driving him insane, the randomized electric shocks never failing to catch him out. What was worse than both of these things, however, was KILROY. He was constantly watching, standing perfectly still, completely unmoved by what he saw. Then again, he was the band's bodyguard; he must have seen some horrible things in his life, but no-one should be able to withstand the sight of a man being tortured...

Now and again, he'd circle him, or change the drip that was in his arm. That drip was his lifeline now, the nutrition and fluids he gained from them were vital, and the dull ache of the needle in his veins was becoming a relief from the sharp pain of the electric through his nerves. Dull pain kept him aware of himself, gave him something different to concentrate on.

He started to realize that he wouldn't get out of here as himself. He didn't know how long he'd been in that room, how long it had been since he'd had more than an hour's sleep, and how long his mind would remain his. He'd have to get out somehow, but they wouldn't let him go until he had become what they wanted him to be. They wanted him to be a figurehead of redemption.

A plan hatched in his exhausted mind. They wanted him to play the role of a redeemed soul... and so he'd act like one. Even the shocks and warped sounds couldn't stop him from this trail of thought. He reveled in this, a place to hide in his mind from everything outside. Yes, he'd act the role of a converted minion, desperate to please, to atone, and when the time came...

They'd see what vengeance means...

Turbo Lover had missed the last few lines of the speech, brought back to the present just in time to sing his lines.

"You are a fool."

'You underestimate the character of man!'

"But they are weaker than you think!"

'You think that they'll surrender if you bind their working hands, but they are strong!'

"Just wait and see..."

The venom behind Turbo Lover's words made Panther shudder. Something was going on, something he couldn't understand. He made a mental note to check up on him later, make sure that everything was okay. He looked after the band, they all looked after each other, and he wouldn't let anyone down. For now, though, they had to continue their faked conflict.

And with that, he walked towards him.

'We will build cities in a day.'

One step.

"Men would cower at the sight."

'We will build towers to the heavens.'

Two steps.

"Man was not built for such a height."

'We will be heroes!'

Three steps.

"We will build heroes!"

The two men were face-to-face, one face wearing contempt, the other hope, and anger. Panther turned away, facing the audience once more as Turbo Lover walked to the other side of the stage. This was not happening, he thought. Not tonight. He wouldn't let this happen tonight. Who cares how he came to be this way, what mattered was what he did now. They couldn't call off the concert, not now. He wouldn't fail them, he refused to. Just two more songs, and then he could rest, recuperate and reconsider keeping these events a secret.

You know that if you tell them, you'll go through all the pain again, Albert.i/

That was what was making him falter. He was remembering the pain, and basic human instinct came into play. Self-preservation. He was a loyal man, but pain like that was not something he wished to relive. No, he'd control this side of him. It was his burden to bear, a punishment for sins that couldn't be atoned for.

Pushing all the thoughts out of his mind, he waited for his time again as the band played "Father of Death". He felt himself become oddly calm, and then impatient. He like being the centre of attention. Not enough to steal the show from the other members of the band, but when it came to his time, he added something that the rest just couldn't, a personal style of showmanship. He tapped his foot, combing his hair once more and taking a pipe out from an inside pocket. He didn't smoke, tobacco was too scarce in the City, but the item had a certain gentlemanly charm to it, and the smell of lacquered wood was comforting. There was some speculation amongst fans as to where he obtained this trinket, some claiming that he stole it from Thomas Light. It was a minor mystery, adding to Turbo Lover's aura.

'I will find a way to make this right! I will find a way, Emily...I will not be the Father of Death!'

It was his time to shine once more. He stepped forward, placing his fedora back on his head, smirking as he approached The Gambler, but stopped to admire a small, wooden music box. It was used to play the intro to this very song, and little else, a relic of a musical instrument that died out long before Wily's time. The band had found it in an old museum, and Turbo Lover secretly wished it could be his own. He had no idea why he coveted the thing, but that wouldn't change the fact that he did.

Now, however, was not the time to admire it. Standing beside The Gambler, she faced him and began to sing.

'What are you doing here?' She asked, a shocked look on her face.

"Let me take you away" he replied, ignoring the question and reaching out for her hand.

'I'm not going anywhere!' She snapped her hand away.

"He will be nothing when this runs its course!" He offered the pipe. It was hit out of his hands, falling into the crowd.

'He will be everything that a man is supposed to be!"

She stood at the edge of the stage, singing at the top of her lungs, and once more Turbo Lover felt lightheaded. Not again. He couldn't recover afterwards, so he had to...control...it...

No...

Wily was on another stage. A smaller one, wearing a different outfit of black and red, typical of the Protomen. The same song was playing, at the same point, but with a different singer. The Merchant. A blonde-haired woman, with connected stars painted on her face and aviators, she was in charge of selling merchandise, stealthy enough to not get the customers killed and helpful in their own way. Today however, she had asked for a simple request. She wanted to sing, and The Gambler had been kind enough to agree.

They were at the climax of the song, the last line of Emily. KILROY approached behind them, dressed as the Sniper, ready to act as the assassin once more. Wily smirked. This would not end as they all thought it would. Only he knew how it would end. How fitting for them to wear crimson, he thought, watching as the Sniper's knife was raised, glinting under the stage lights. The blade came down, hitting its mark...

A scream.

A flash of crimson.

A thud.

Everyone stopped playing, the crowd thinking that the blood was added theatrical flair, and cheered. Then she didn't move again. They stopped. And then they screamed. KILROY seemed confused, looking at the blood on his gloved hands as though he were a child looking at mud. He didn't understand what was happening until he looked at the blade, and then it clicked.

'This...isn't my knife.'

The whole band looked shocked, The Gambler breaking into tears. 'She must have known...'

'Poor Merchant...' Wily murmured, forcing himself to cry.

'No-one could have known' Commander said, taking off his sunglasses.

'Someone had to have known...' Panther muttered, crouching down to the Merchant's dead body. The crowd was panicking, and Demon Barber decided to try and calm everyone down. Heath who Hath No Name, however, had something to say.

'Panther... I think I know who.'

Wily froze.

'Heath? How could you know?'

Wily stood up, knowing what was about to be said. Heath who Hath No Name raised a finger, pointing at him.

'Because I saw him smile as it happened'

Absolute silence descended over the hall. Now Panther stood up, slowly, deliberately, a worried look on his face.

'Is this true?'

The smile returned to his face.

"Yes."

The crowd immediately pushed forward, clambering towards him, angrily calling for his head.

'WILY!'

'GIVE US WILY!'

'GIVE US THE MURDERER!'

Demon Barber tried to hold them back. Everyone but The Gambler, KILROY and Panther went to help.

'KILROY, hold him.'

"I'm not going to run, Raul Panther. I want to see how in the world you'll be able to cope with this situation" he sneered, allowing KILROY to hold his arms back regardless.

'Why the HELL did you do that?' Panther shouted, completely enraged and upset at the same time. His hands were clenched into fists, shaking with anger.

"Because you trusted me, Raul Panther, and didn't check whether I was really the tamed puppy you thought I had become. It's fair enough though..." Wily paused for effect, looking at the expression of the crowd as they tried to reach him, to bring retribution. He wondered if they'd keep trying to kill him when he exposed what had happened to him.

"After all, if any other man went through electrocution and sound distortion torture, they would be reformed, wouldn't they, Raul Panther?"

The crowd gasped, stopping their assault.

"Oh... did you not tell them?" he sneered.

'You really think they can believe you after what you've done?' Panther growled, loud enough for every soul in that room to hear. 'You just murdered The Merchant by proxy. No-one can believe a killer... especially one with no name!'

The crowd murmured in agreement, before one voice was heard, the voice of a young man, with whiskers on his face.

"MURDERER!"

The rest began to chant the vicious word, their anger rising once more.

"MURDERER!"

'Murderer!

"MURDERER!"

"So what will you do now, Raul Panther? Throw me to the crowd? Or am I too precious for your cause?" He taunted. Nothing could daunt him now. Either way, he was going to die.

'KILROY? Take him off the stage.'

Wily laughed. "Too late, Raul Panther. The damage has been done! None of these people will ever trust you again. The doubt will always linger over them" he said, watching The Gambler cover The Merchant's body with a coat, the tears still running down her face stained black. "I doubt you'll ever see any of their faces again."

Panther looked back to the crowd, and realized. That had been his aim tonight. Not to kill a band member, though that must have been a plus for him, but to cast doubt over the crowd. Even with their chanting, he could see that Wily's words would linger over them, make them wonder if what they had said was the truth.

He had damaged their reputation. To these people, that could never be repaired.

"So, Panther...decided a codename yet? The crowd seems to like Murderer..." Wily taunted, a contemptful grin on his face as he was dragged away. Panther refused to turn to face him as tears began to run down his face. The Merchant's death would always be on his own hands in his mind. His voice was bitter, regret dripping from every word.

"You're not the man you should be, and so you have no name."

The sound of a synthesized organ ended that flashback. He smirked, spinning the microphone with his eyes closed as he walked to centre stage. For this song, and this song alone, Panther played second fiddle. The thought of upstaging him drove him to perform to the best of his ability. He began to click his fingers, the crowd clapped to the beat, the guitars and keyboards became louder and louder, and as the lighting grew in intensity. Just before he began to sing, he opened his eyes.

They were blue.

"Tonight the streets are red, the lights are blue and blinding..." He raised a hand. "No sign of the "Good Doctor," but the siren's wail and whining tell us he'll be found."

Putting his hand to his ear, the tone of his voice dripping with malice. "I can almost hear the hounds..."

The crowd was already eating out the palm of his hand. It was the effect of the song. Wily's smirk grew as he continued singing, realizing a weakness in the Wily of this universe; music can enslave just as easily as it can liberate.

"What kind of man builds a machine to kill a girl? No he did not use his hands.

Like a smart man he used a tool, but just the same!" He was reliving that moment, that very press release that should have sealed Thomas Light's fate, if not for this insufferable band, a band that had made him go through hell and back, and then back to hell once more. But now, he was free, and his hatred in the next line was aimed squarely at the Protomen.

"How can you question who's to blame?"

'WHAT WAS HER NAME!' The crowd yelled, knowing their role. Oh, the nostalgia of this event, the memories it brought back. That night was his crowning glory, his victory over Light...

"Doesn't matter, now listen..." And yet, it had not gone to plan. Panther's meddling had ruined everything, just like Light when he betrayed him. He wouldn't allow that to happen again, now he had control. No-one could tell, however, and so he had the element of surprise.

"The "Good Doctor" has to pay!"

He turned away from the audience, staring at Panther, absorbed by his keyboard playing. Wily thought he looked somewhat ridiculous, throwing his head from side to side in a melodramatic manner... obviously trying to steal some glory during his song. His smirk faded, replaced by a frown. The next few lines would be directed solely at him, the ringleader of this instrumental gang.

"When I say he was a monster, when I set fire to his name, it does not matter where you hear it from, whether truth or lies gets said, all the same!" He span back round to the audience, a playing card appearing in his hands, one that had been hidden up his sleeve. It was the Ace of Spades.

"WHATEVER'S ON THE TABLE PLAYS!"

A short instrumental came into play, and Wily continued to play the crowd. They cheered for him, sang along with his words, wanted more... This was the way to come back to life, not with a whimper, but a roar. And soon, he'd have more than just this crowd on his side. If his plan worked, The Wily of this universe would have something to learn from him.

Youth was an advantage when it came to schemes, he thought.

The guitar's notes reached higher and higher, Wily reaching out with every plucked string, before standing right on the stage's edge, balancing in a dramatic pose that only he could get away with. Now he felt excitement growing inside of him, his bottled-up emotions all flaring at once. It had been fun, toying with that false self these thugs had created, but playtime was over.

His more outlandish performance than usual hadn't gone unnoticed. Commander had a concerned look on his face, sensing that something was wrong. Turbo Lover had been acting strange since the broadcast... Was something going on?

If only he knew just what had really happened.

Wily stepped backwards, throwing the microphone into the air and catching it in his left hand, ignoring the pain that came from the cuts covering it. Standing besides Panther, he continued his song. "There is a flame I have been fanning, there is a fire waiting to catch. There is a hell that has been building from the moment we first met."

He walked away, crossing the stage and standing by The Gunslinger. Turbo Lover always seemed to interact with him during this performance, so to remain undetected Wily did the same. "If there ever was a time, if there ever was a chance, to undo the things I've done and wash these bloodstains from my hands, it has passed and been forgotten. These are the paths that we must take..."

He slowly walked towards Panther once more, deliberately making it look unintentional. "Cause you and I, Tom, we are men and we can bend and we can break." He had reached the centre of the stage now. "If you think that you can run, if you think that you can stand..." Wily raised a fist into the air "Well you forget who turned this city on!" The fist fell, his index finger pointing at a single member of the audience, making them flinch. "YOU FORGET WHO PLUGGED THIS CITY IN!"

He ran forwards. "They'll not switch it off again!" Then he swept his hand over the crowd, "One by one they're tuning in!" He jumped into the crowd, carried by the countless fans, cheering and yelling as loudly as they could. He kept a hand pressing downwards onto his hat, making sure he didn't lose it. It wasn't his original Trilby, but a Fedora was close enough. It was nice to hear a crowd calling for him, praising every word he sang... he had missed the recognition.

Eventually, he made his was back to the stage, continuing his showboating, quickly ending up back-to-back with Panther. If he could have things exactly as he wished he could right now... well... Everything would slow down but himself, everyone moving in slow motion, the music slowing to a melancholy key. The microphone would become cold in his hand, turning into a steel knife, sharpened to a perfect point and edge. And Panther? His back was turned, making him an easy target.

A quick stab in the back would hurt more, but a slash to the throat would silence his growl forever...

NO!

Turbo Lover snapped back into control as Panther turned to face him. His eyes remained blue, and Wily seemed angry.

What? How can you fight back now?

I...I need to get out of here!

He dropped the microphone, and ran from the stage. He needed to get away from them, away from him. That had been too risky. Cursing himself as he ran, he knew now that he should have just told Panther this was happening from the start. Now it could be too late to stop him, so why didn't he just give up- GET OUT OF MY HEAD WILY!

Panther looked shocked, and then worried. He looked to the rest of the band, noting everyone's expressions. All of them, concerned. All but Commander's. His was stern. But they couldn't stop now. They had to trust that Turbo Lover was all right, that he would be fine, and that nerves had simply gripped him at that moment. That was all they could do...

Turbo Lover managed to get to the bathroom, lock himself inside and collapse onto the side of the sink before Wily had a chance to regain any control. His hands spasmed as the power struggle began, one he knew he'd lose, but was determined to fight anyway. Slowly pulling himself up, he was face to face with the cracked mirror. Like earlier, the reflection had blue eyes. He thought he was hallucinating again.

"You're not."

"Wily..."

"Albert."

"Why won't you just...stop..."

"Why should I? Right now, I have the perfect opportunity..."

"But what you want to do is wrong."

"You're wrong, Albert. What I want to do is fair and just. Especially considering the hell they put us through..."

Turbo Lover closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from remembering. He didn't want to remember, he wanted to forget...But no. He was not allowed to forget. He had to remember, he needed to know.

He was dragged back to that darkened room, tied to the same chair with the same rope, rigged with the same electronic torture device and forced to listen to the same type of distorted wails, with the same man standing over him.

What was different this time was that Commander re-entered the room, and punched him as hard as he could in the face. A sickening crunch was heard, blood oozing from Wily's nose as it broke.

'We trusted you, Wily! We thought you had changed... but now you've killed her, and... I'll never forgive you for this!" He bellowed. Clearly, Commander was enraged, further losing his temper when he kicked him in the chest. Another crunch, this time from Wily's ribs. He sat there, a blank look on his face, taking the beating with no words until Panther ran into the room, grabbing Commander's arms and pulling him away.

'Dammit man, you said you wouldn't do this!' he shouted, struggling to keep hold of his bandmate.

'He killedThe Merchant, Panther! You think he doesn't deserve this?'

'Don't fall to his level, Commander, you're better than this!'

'I can't fall to his level unless I wring his scrawny little neck!'

'Just listen to what you're saying for a second! Is that who you really are?'

Commander slowly stopped moving, and in the scarce light Wily could see that he too had been crying, pretty heavily judging from the smudged makeup on his face. It looked as though he was crying silver tears.

'You're...you're right, Raul. Sorry... I just..' he muttered, his hands dropping to his sides.

'It's fine, Commander. Don't worry... go help The Gambler. She could use your comfort now.'

'Y..yeah...'

Wily lifted his head, watching Commander turn to leave. He smirked, wincing due to the pain, but smirked nonetheless.

"Why bother crying over her, Commander?" he wheezed. Despite the state he was in, his voice was still smug in tone. "She's just another worthless dead body to throw onto the pile of the millions who died before her."

Commander's fists clenched again, and he tried to punch Wily once more, Panther barely managing to catch his arm before he did.

'KILROY, get Commander out of here!'

KILROY nodded, grabbing his arms and walking towards the door. Commander kept struggling, trying to hit Wily one last time.

'Wily, you bastard, I'll never forgive you for that!' He yelled. 'No matter what you become once we're through with you!'

Commander and KILROY left the room, Panther closing the door behind them, locking it shut.

'You've really done it this time.'

"Please, give a dying man his last bit of fun"

'You're not dying, Wily.'

'Hah..." he coughed violently, causing more bloody to seep from his nose. "Really? Certainly feels like it..."

'Why did you taunt him, Wily?' Panther asked, taking off his sunglasses. 'What would you gain from making him snap?'

"Nothing that you would understand, Panther..."

'What? No Raul?'

"Hurts too much to spare the word..."

'I can't say you don't deserve it...'

"But you wouldn't have done this, would you, Panther?"

Panther shook his head.

'No, no I wouldn't' he sighed, walking into the darkness, before emerging a few seconds later with a first aid kit. 'Now hold still. I'm gonna try to fix that broken nose...'

A short while passed, and by the time Panther was done, Wily's head was wound with a bandage, holding two improvised splints in place on his nose. He looked ridiculous, but it would do the trick, with time.

"...You've never done this before, have you?"

'Nope...'

"...Thanks."

' Welcome.'

Panther packed the rest of the equipment away, putting the box back in it's shadowy place. 'Not trying to make me angry then?'

"No."

' Why not?'

"..."

'I'm not leaving without an answe-r-r-r-r-r-r-r—r-r-rrrrrrrrr

The scene changed.

Why did it change?

You don't need to know.

All you need to know is what happened next...

No-one was in the room but Wily.

He was being electrocuted, breaking his body.

He was listening to distorted wails, weakening his mind.

He was being injected with drugs, warping both.

No-one would answer his cries for relief.

Even though his wounds healed, there was no respite.

It was unsafe to electrocute someone filled with those drugs.

Side-effects began to kick in.

Erratic hand movements.

Locking joints.

A change of voice.

Even the colour of his eyes changed.

But his mind was intact enough to create a persona.

A fake self.

One that would be exactly what The Protomen wanted.

And one that would lead to their downfall...

"Stop it, Wily, please stop...' Turbo Lover pleaded. He didn't want to know what happened next. It would crush him completely, ruin all his hopes... He didn't want to know, oh god, Wily, be merciful, don't let me remember, please, please I beg you...

"No. You need to know that you cannot win against me...against the truth."

He looked at himself in the mirror, his hands shaking. What he was remembering shook him to the core, and he didn't want to know it, but he had no choice. The reflection smirked, adjusting it's hat on it's head, before speaking once more.

"Your personality wasn't made by the Protomen, Albert. It was shaped based on what they wanted, yes, but they did not make it. I did. I made you, Albert, because I needed a way to control what I would become."

"You can't control me, Wily..." he hissed, trying to believe his words.

"Oh, but I can... and I do. You see, you always feel a very heavy burden of guilt, Albert, one that you can't shake off, no matter how much you pretend that you're not me..." Wily paused, stroking his chin momentarily. "Want to know why?"

"No...I don't...I don't need to know..."

"But I think you do need to know! After all, you must wonder why you always feel guilty. Always wishing you had done something else... It's because Raul Panther always seemed to want me to feel that way about my actions... I didn't, but by adding guilt to you, I could manipulate it. But of course, constant guilt wasn't what he wanted you to feel, or how else could you possibly help them without becoming a ball of angst?"

"You made me hide it from them... hide you from them..." Turbo Lover realized, disbelief covering his face.

"Now you understand. You didn't want to burden them with your worries, and so you hid them from the band instinctively. It was a basic condition, a flaw I built into you. If you hid everything that seemed to be wrong, then when I began to return... You'd hide me. I turned you into the perfect hiding place, and slowly leaked out old, forgotten memories to weaken your will."

"You used me..."

"What did you expect? Everyone did. Even though Raul Panther and Commander and The Gambler and The Gunslinger and all the rest of them seem to be looking out for you, in reality they just need you for their master plan, and what would happen after that? You'd be thrown to the people. After all, you're a Wily. Not this City's Wily, but a Wily nonetheless. The enemy of the City... You really think they'd defend you if the people found that out?"

"Yes."

The reflection laughed, unable to control itself. Turbo Lover's fists clenched.

"They'd defend me because I'm no longer you. You've made me realize something, Wily. I shouldn't feel guilty for what you did. You're not me. And the Protomen are like my family now. They'd defend me, and I'd defend them-"

"If they're really like family to you, then why don't you have a proper name? Turbo Lover is an alias, a codename. It simply doesn't count."

"I...I haven't earned one yet..."

"You haven't earned one, or you already have one?" Wily questioned. He was barely holding back his laughter once more, this man was pathetic! How could someone think so lowly of himself? He knew the answer to that. Because he made it so that he would. And so he knew that he wouldn't receive a reply to that question as he continued. "You've always had a name. Albert W. Wily."

"No... that's your name... my name... is Turbo Lover-"

"No, Albert. It's not my name, or your name. It's our name. We're both the same person, with the same deeds to our name, though I have to admit I am ashamed of yours..."

Turbo Lover tried to cover his ears, wanting to block out Wily's voice, knowing that it wouldn't work and that the words were echoing inside his mind. He wanted this to stop. His body hurt, remembering everything, reliving Wily's life, but refusing to give in. He couldn't betray the Protomen, couldn't betray Panther. Even if they turned on him, he'd forgive them...

They had given him another chance.

"No. They gave me another chance. And they'll pay for it."

"I won't let you do that, Wily."

"You won't be able to stop me. After all, the blood on your hands will never wash off. We're stained by our sins, and if there was a God he would condemn us in a second."

"You have your actions, and I have mine..."

"No, Albert. One name, one body, and one legacy. We're beyond any redemption, any efforts towards it is a pointless endeavor... And that's been all you've tried to do, isn't it? Redeeming yourself?"

Turbo Lover looked away, but his neck jerked his head back to the reflection. He was losing control. Wily opened his mouth, singing the lines that were, under normal circumstances, chilling. Under these, however, they were devastating

"If there ever was a time, if there ever was a chance, to undo the things I've done

and wash these bloodstains from my hands..."

He stopped singing. "It has passed and been forgotten."

"Say whatever you want, make me remember everything, and try to break me down, Wily..." Turbo lover growled. "I'm still not you."

"If you won't believe that despite all the evidence, then I'll force you to... Now, tell me, Albert, after everything that they put you through...Are the Protomen still your heroes?"

"Yes."

"Would you die for them?"

"...Yes."

"Then die, Turbo Lover. Die knowing that the crowd chanted your true name when you killed The Merchant, die knowing that you will never be redeemed, die with the blood about to be spilt on your hands, for what happens next will become our legacy... "

He pointed a single finger at his face. "Murderer."

Murderer.

Murder...

What was happening now was murder.

He wanted to cry out, to stop what he knew was unstoppable now. That word had torn his sense of self from him, and the rest of him was trickling away. He felt himself lose his thoughts, forgetting the events that had happened to him, forgetting everything as his personality shattered into thousands of shards...

With a whimper, Turbo Lover died.

Wily stood up, brushing himself down. And so, the mask had broken, and his true face could be seen once more. He looked at himself, noting the changes. Some things were an improvement, others... not so. At least the blue had returned to his eyes, brown was such a boring colour...

He'd have time to preen himself later. Right now he needed to turn the wheels, to set his plan into motion.

He listened to the music, muffled by the walls but still distinctive. It was "Keep Quiet". So they were that far through the set? That was a setback. If only that fake personality would have just died sooner, he wouldn't have to think on his feet...

There was a knock on the door.

Who could that be, Wily pondered, unlocking and opening it. The answer gave him an idea, as KILROY stood in the entrance. Of course, tonight they weren't going to have The Sniper fight... because he was needed as Protoman for The Sons of Fate. He held back a smirk, instead smiling in a manner that seemed sincere, standing aside as the bodyguard walked inside, placing the props for his Protoman costume on the side, the poncho, the iconic helmet, and the chain gun buster...

His plans wouldn't be ruined after all, Wily thought to himself as he closed the door, and cleared his throat.

Time for him to put his skills to the test.

Panther caught his breath, slowly playing the last notes of the tune from The Stand. The concert was nearing an end, which for once was a good thing in his eyes. The sooner this ended, the sooner he could check on Turbo Lover. He had him worried. First the unexplained cuts on his hand, then his loss of balance after "Will of One", and then running from the stage after "The Hounds"? Something was wrong with the poor man, and as soon as he could, Panther would do anything he could to help.

If only he knew that it was too late.

He looked to the murkiness offstage as he placed the Megaman helmet on his head, waiting for KILROY to reappear in the attire of the City's fallen hero, Protoman. A laugh was heard as he stepped onto the stage, an image that made many in the crowd shudder in fear. Most present had never seen the real Protoman, but everyone knew the "face" regardless. It had been drilled into them to understand why he turned his back on humanity, an important lesson the Wily of this universe wanted them all to remember.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" KILROY said, a menacing tone to his voice as he walked across the stage to stand beside Panther. "Another crowd of humans... here for a battle?"

The crowd cheered, some already shouting lines from the upcoming song.

"Hello...Brother."

'They watched you die...' Panther murmured, his voice monotone.

"Yes... they watched me die... but now I'm here to make sure that every single one of them dies as well."

From underneath the poncho, he pulled out his buster, different from the one Panther wielded. It was based on old chain gun technology, upgraded to plasma bullets. A useful weapon against the Sniper Joes, it's safety always on otherwise to prevent accidents. Panther did not want a repeat of past events...

'I will not fight you, brother.'

"Hah! You have no choice!"

He leant towards KILROY. 'I'll stand beside you!'

KILROY backed away. "I stand alone!"

'You're still their hero...'

"Hero?"

He laughed once more, aiming the buster at the same audience member Wily had pointed at before, the barrels spinning. She jumped backwards, not expecting herself to be the target.

"Then they are fools!"

'THIS CANNOT BE THE ONLY WAY!'

The music kicked in, suddenly, violently, and the crowd began to pulse with life, the ground below the stage dangerously close to becoming a mosh pit. Emotions were running high as "Megaman" and "Protoman" fought, the lights flashing and distorting the scene. To an outsider's eyes, it would be overwhelming. To the crowd, it was. This was deliberate, to allow them to feel free for just one night required them to be overwhelmed, for it was the only way to undo the mental conditioning every citizen had received.

'I will not fight you!' "You have no choice!"

'I'll stand beside you!' "I stand alone!"

'You're still their hero!' "Then they are fools!"

"This cannot be the only way!' "You will see..."

The tension rose and rose, the whole warehouse engulfed in an atmosphere that drove away common sense. This was for the pure, unbridled emotions of humanity long kept silent, allowed to scream and yell and sing, channelled into instruments and cheering.

'They don't deserve this.' "When this is through,"

'Now more than ever,' "Mankind will fall!"

We are their hope!' "They would not stand!"

If a Sniper Joe found the event, if Wily's eyes were cast over them, it would spell death for them all. Many there would rather death, however, than to never feel this freedom ever again.

'They know no better. '"They would not fight."

'They are not ready. '"They never will."

'Even now there is hope for man!'

This was the message that The Protomen were trying to show. Humanity had hopes for freedom, so why wouldn't they act upon it? Because they were trapped by Wily? Or because they were too scared to stand for themselves? Maybe now they'd realize, have something worth fighting for, and hope would turn into victory.

"My father's words!"

'Your father loved you.' "He still believes?"

'His heart was broken.' "His only weakness."

'His greatest strength!'

Emotions were the strength of humanity. It was what let them adapt to situations, to learn and experience new feelings, to grow in strength. Even sorrow was a useful emotion, as it could be turned into determination. And if determined enough, people could bring joy into the world. Wily's world was emotionless, unadaptable, stale and deadly. There was no determination in the countless legions of Robot's AI, no individuality, only servitude towards their vain leader.

"Now we shall see..."

KILROY raised his buster into the air.

'You are not evil!'

"If they will stand..."

He aimed it at Panther.

'You are not broken!'

"Beside their hero!"

The barrels began to spin once more.

'We both know they'll never fight!' Panther yelled, anguish clear in his voice. The crowd grew silent, shocked to hear him say those words. Many felt otherwise, that someday, someone would fight...

But would it be them?

"You finally get it; there are no heroes. Mankind is doomed."

Panther's expression matched the tone of his voice as he said the words he didn't want to believe, but that had been proven true so many times. He hoped maybe tonight someone would want to defy them, that if even one person left this place willing to stand for themselves, and for humanity, then they would have succeeded.

'You will never have another Hero. You will never have another chance. You will fall because you never tried to stand for yourselves!'

The crowd's mood began to turn as The Gambler and The Nightwalker sang their lines, remembering the words of those at the original event, the misguided anger held within them riling the audience.

'Destroy him!'

'You can save us!'

'Destroy him!'

'We don't want to!'

'Do it for us!'

'Destroy him!'

Every soul in the warehouse spoke in unison, the death call, the final line...

"KILL PROTOMAN!"

Panther faced KILROY, his own buster in his hands. He was ready to act out his final role, one that scarred him every time.

He charged.

KILROY did too.

A flash of light.

Another.

A third.

KILROY fell to the ground.

Seconds later, so did Panther, the helmet rolling across the stage.

No-one had seen the blow to his face, but now he knew that something was wrong. Slowly, Panther rose again, a hand pressed to his right cheek, flecks of red on his black gloves. The crowd cheered, heralding the "death" of "Protoman". Panther, however, was not cheering. The flashes had been caused by a strobe, or so everyone else would believe, but that had not been the case. KILROY's gun had fired, three plasma bullets cutting his cheek and burning it closed again in milliseconds. Someone had turned the safety off, someone that wanted him dead...

'Oh god...'

Panther's eyes widened as he realized just how close to death he had just been. His hands shook, and the reason behind his paranoia over the safety of the busters came to mind once more. Protoman had killed Fetterman in a show of power, showing off his strength and taking a life in one, two, three shots...

He shuddered, deciding to finish the song before doing anything else... he had to put on a brave face and keep his cheek covered. He picked up Megaman's helmet, put it back on, and stared at the audience as KILROY went offstage.

'Look what you made me do... why did you make me do it?' he asked, his voice trembling, not through acting this time, but because he was terrified of what could have happened. His hands stopped shaking as he murmured, 'You are the Dead.' The crowd began to sing once more, The Gambler and The Nightwalker leading them on.

'He could not save himself! How could he save us?'

Sacrifice was sometimes necessary. Protoman had tried to make humanity realize their foolishness by defaulting everything good he had done in his life. He died known as a villain, but in a way he was still a hero. If only humanity had known that he never gave up on his hopes...

'For all the blood he shed, ' 'And as I live!'

'Your brother failed us'. 'There is no evil that will stand!'

'There's nothing you could do.' 'And I will finish,'

'You had no choice.' 'What was started:'

'Why do you cry for him?'

Panther took off the helmet. It felt wrong to wear it now, he thought, as it dropped from his hands, rolling towards Commander. Now nothing hid his wound from everyone's eyes. It was a small scar, but one that would come as a surprise to those who would notice it.

'The fight of Protomaaaaaan!'

Right now, however, the crowd was oblivious, calling for "Megaman" to fight for their freedom.

'You are our hero!'

'YOU are our hero!'

'And you are the dead.'

He wouldn't fight for them because they refused to fight for him. Megaman had lost faith in humanity at that moment, which was why humanity had to stand for themselves. This was the final message they wanted the audience to consider, as they played the last notes of the song, thanking them for coming, and hoping that they would stay safe, before they all walked off stage.

It was only then that someone noticed Panther's wound.

'When the hell-Panther, stop, wait for a sec!' Commander shouted, running ahead of him and looking at his cheek. 'When the hell?'

'KILROY's buster went off. The safety must have been released. Don't worry, apart from this, the shots missed.'

'...Where the hell is Turbo Lover-'

'Don't jump to conclusions. For all we know, a screw just came loose in the safety device. Besides, it doesn't hurt, the cut was burnt shut' Panther cut in, rubbing his cheek, getting a sense of the damage done. He had been lucky; it was much better than he thought it was, only a small line along the cheekbone.

'You really think he didn't do it?' Commander sighed, doubt clear in his voice.

'I trust him, Commander. You should too.'

'Yeah, well...'

They stopped to listen to the crowd. They were calling the band's name, asking for one more song. Usually, they'd run straight back out. Now, however...

'Commander, you take my part for tonight. I'm going to check on Turbo Lover.'

'You sure it's wise to go alone?'

'What did I just say?'

Commander paused, before nodding. 'Alright. Be careful, Raul' he replied, rounding up the rest of the band as he walked back on stage. Panther breathed in deeply, and headed for the bathroom. Turbo Lover's grooming habits meant that he was usually in front of a mirror when nervous, compulsively combing his hair until it looked as though it had been gelled back. He wasn't vain, Panther knew that, it was just a nervous tendency, a reflex.

He reached the bathroom, and knocked on the door.

"Hello?"

'Turbo? It's me, Panther. You alright?'

"Yeah, fine, fine..."

'Can I come in?'

"Sure..."

Something was wrong. His voice didn't sound quite right, and yet he couldn't put his finger on where he had heard that voice before. Still, he had to look out for the man, it was his duty, and he was his friend. And with that, he pushed the door open, immediately seeing Turbo Lover, his head on the side.

'What's going on, Turbo? You've never dropped the mic before...'

"Just nerves... we've never played to a crowd of that size before, so I lost it."

'You gave a good performance though. That crowd loved you... you need to stop being so concerned about what you're doing, Turbo. You worry too much' he sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"Well, I try..." He raised his head from the side, his eyes shadowed by the fedora on his head. "So... I should be less worried about my actions then?"

'Yup. Otherwise you'll just feel guilty all the time, and you have no reason to feel that way'

"Well then..."

He walked away from the side, headed for the door.

"I suppose I shouldn't feel guilty for killing Turbo Lover then."

'What?'

He smirked as he locked the door, trapping them inside.

"Didn't you realize, Raul Panther..." He opened his eyes, a crazed gleam shining from their bright blue irises. "That his guilt was what destroyed him in the end?"

Panther reached for his pistol, one built from the remains of an old game console controller, of sorts, called a Zapper. It was one of his most treasured belongings, and one he never had too far away. His hand was grabbed by Wily, twisted behind his back. He swung his other around, winding him by punching him in the chest, before stepping back and trying to draw again, his hand instinctively reaching for the handle.

Click.

"Too slow, Raul Panther... as always." Wily taunted. Despite winding him, Panther had failed to notice his other hand steal the pistol away. It was now cocked, ready to fire, and aimed at the centre of his forehead. "One wrong move, and I pull the trigger. Now, on your knees."

'You took the safety off' Panther growled.

"On your knees, Raul Panther."

'What else have you done, Wily?'

"On. Your. Knees."

Reluctantly, Panther slowly did as he was told.

"Now, was that really so hard?" he asked, a patronizing tone to his voice. "Onto your questions... Yes, I did take the safety off the busters. No, I didn't want you dead. To be quite frank I was hoping KILROY would aim for Commander, I've never liked the brute, especially after what he did to my nose."

'KILROY would never aim for him-'

Wily sneered. "Not unless his safety locks were released as well..."

'No...He's still out there...'

Panther panicked, his voice cracking with fear. 'Wily, what have you done?'

Wily laughed once more. "Oh don't worry... I gave him very specific orders. He won't hurt anyone for now. His only chance was during Sons of Fate, after that I made sure that he wouldn't just go on a rampage. Where would be the fun in that? Besides..."

The smirk faded from his face as Wily pressed the pistol against Panther's temple. "I want to see the look on your face when what I have planned comes to pass."

Commander wasn't happy.

Even though it was nice to have a different role, he'd rather that the situation that it was happening for was not what he assumed it was. Still, the crowd hadn't caught onto the fact that things had done wrong, and so they had to continue. They had no choice if they wanted to finish what they had started.

Despite their concerns, everyone was playing their part almost perfectly. KILROY was even doing his usual fist pumps, bringing the crowd into the performance as he walked amongst them. He wondered whether he knew what he had done. He must have felt the recoil, seen the shots fire, felt the heat of the plasma, but he just didn't react. Commander glanced backstage, hoping to see Panther return. He hadn't. What was taking him so long? Unless the man had decided to..

..No. He had to trust him.

Even though he could never forgive Turbo Lover, he thought bitterly. He refused to continue that line of thought, putting it out of mind as he continued singing.

'Cutman!'

But it was hard not to think of it... the knife's edge cutting her throat, crimson pouring out..

'Gutsman!'

The Merchant died in vain, murdered for no reason other than a vain showboating.

'Fireman!'

Anger flared in Commander's eyes. He couldn't stop these thoughts, no matter how hard he tried.

'Iceman!'

And what was worse was that, if something had gone wrong, this time Wily would have Turbo Lover's reflexes and fighting skills at hand.

'Sniper Joe!'

And Wily was skilled with robotics... even without practice for all these years, Commander somehow knew that he wouldn't be rusty.

'Rush Jet!'

...Hang on a second. KILROY had gone backstage when the only other person there was Turbo Lover...

'Dr. Light!'

And Turbo Lover had been acting odd for a long time now... what if Wily had re-emerged? And what if...What if he had reprogrammed KILROY?

Oh dear god...

"MEGAMAAAAN!"

Commander desperately scanned over the crowd, trying to see where KILROY had gone, but there was no point. He had vanished. A man with a metal face, a brown overall and a sledgehammer had managed to blend into the crowd. That was a slap to the face, and was good enough to confirm his fears. Usually by now, he had returned to the front of the stage, but tonight he had gone without a trace.

He decided the worst had happened, and jumped into the crowd. Whatever was going on, he would have to try to stop it...

The song reached it's final crescendo as Commander pushed his way through the sea of people. Confusion was beginning to spread amongst them, wondering what he was looking for. The fans who had seen previous concerts slowly started looking worried, realizing finally that something was seriously wrong.

But it was too late.

"Game Over."

Only then did Commander finally spot KILROY. He had locked the doors, barricaded them with scraps of metal and his sledgehammer, and was now making a beeline for him, tackling him to the ground. People began to scream, scared of what was happening. This was not the way this was meant to end.

A gunshot made silence fall over the warehouse. Wily had taken centre stage, Panther lying on the floor in front of him. The Gunslinger stepped forward, pulling his own weapon from its holster, but froze as Wily aimed his pistol at Panther once again.

"One more step, and your beloved Raul Panther won't live to tell this story."

He stepped back.

"Oh, and thank you for showing that you're armed... I assume you all are then. Weapons on the ground, slowly. If you try anything, he's dead."

They looked at each other, afraid to disobey... one by one, they took out their guns, and slowly put them on the floor. "Good. Now... walk to the edge of the stage, and then kneel." They hesitated. Wily cocked the pistol again. "Now."

Once that had been done, he walked towards the weapons, picking up another pistol. "Hmm... you all seem to have similar models of these? Curious. At least they work."

'Wily, you no good sonuva-'

"KILROY? Would you be so kind as to shut that brute up?"

'Who're you calling a brute-mmmfh!' Commander shouted, trying to be heard as KILROY's hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

"Good... now everything's in place..."

Pocketing two more pistols, Wily walked towards a microphone, reveling in the power he now held. He had been planning this for so long now, and everything was going exactly as he had planned...

"Ladies and gentlemen..." He began, his voice condescending. "Thank you for coming out tonight. It's certainly been one hell of a performance, hasn't it? The Protomen have done well with their songs, bringing lost emotions back to life within each and every one of you... Go ahead. Applaud."

No-one dared to even more.

"Heh... thought you wouldn't, for you see..." He took the microphone from it's stand and walked back to Panther. "You're all just looking for someone to stand for you, willing to push them onwards, but then, the second you have to make a decision for yourself, one that could stop events like this happening, what do you choose do to?"

He looked at the faces of those in the front row, watched them try to flinch backwards, but they were frozen to the spot, unable to move. Perfect.

"You choose to save your own skin. Human nature's number one flaw. Self preservation. And so, you bowed to Wily's whims, accepted his rule with but a murmur of discontent, waiting for a hero, knowing they'd become a martyr..."

He moved the microphone away from his mouth, watching as KILROY pushed Commander into place, kneeling on the edge of the stage just like the rest. He smiled.

"Kneel, Raul Panther."

'I won't let you do this...'

"You have no choice."

'This... this cannot be the only way...'

"But it is, Raul Panther. It is because of what you chose to do..."

Panther slowly rose, before kneeling.

"Hands behind your head."

He complied. Wily crouched down beside him, whispering into his ear.

"Now look at these people, Raul Panther, and ask yourself this... Why hasn't any one of them risked their life for you?"

'Because if they did, you'd kill me.'

"No. It's not because of that" he sighed, standing up straight, putting the microphone back to his lips. "None of you will risk being that martyr because you fear that if you do try to stop me, I'll shoot you. And then, you'd die. None of you really care about Raul Panther, compared to your own death, and that is why you won't challenge me. Why you won't challenge your own Wily. Because you don't want to die."

He span the pistol in his hand, still cocked, as he continued. "I've been dead, or close enough to make no difference. Tonight, I came back to life, and killed the man that killed me. Turbo Lover has been dead since the end of "Keep Quiet". Fitting, really. Keeping quiet about everything was how he lived his entire, albeit short, life."

The pistol went off, hitting someone in the audience in the leg. They screamed. Wily didn't care, he simply prepared the pistol to fire again. "Guilt is another human flaw, one that we're taught to acknowledge, one that we're supposed to carry throughout our lives, even for events beyond our own control. Should I feel guilty for shooting that woman? No. Events happen, events that change everything, that are uncontrollable and completely random."

He paused, seemingly admiring the gun in his hand. "Should I shift the blame onto the tool? 'Oh, so sorry, it misfired! I wasn't planning on pulling the trigger, honest!' No. A smart man uses a tool. A fool blames it."

His voice echoed across the warehouse, terrifying every single soul. Some began to shake uncontrollably, just wanting this all to end. The man became more and more feared. They cowered at his feet, just as he always wanted humanity to...

He turned away from the crowd, from everyone, and picked up Panther's buster. Unlike the one based on Protoman's, this one had a single chamber, only released a single shot at a time. However, it's power was much more concentrated. Putting the microphone and pistol down, he slowly picked the buster up and slid his arm inside, before spinning round, grabbing both the mike and gun in one hand. Returning the microphone to its stand, he span the pistol again.

"You all are probably wondering why I haven't just decided to kill these people, aren't you?"

The buster began to glow, lights showing that it was operational. This weapon was much more unstable, which was why it wasn't even activated during the concerts. It was a tradeoff between power and reliability, with reliability taking second place. The crowd shifted slightly, not sure that they wanted to hear what was about to be said.

" Well, it's simple, and quite obvious if you think about it. They're a band of very talented musicians, especially as they've had no classical training. Even I will admit that. However, that is all they are. It's only the words of you all, the fans, and the exaggerations of Wily that makes them into rebels, into heroes. People like to see something as more than just what it is. This buster, for example..." Wily lifted his arm upwards, pointing the weapon at the roof. "It looks very similar to Megaman's, and so people view it as a symbol of tarnished hope. In reality, however, it is simply a weapon, a tool to be used..."

He charged a shot, feeling the machine shudder violently in his hand, before aiming and firing at KILROY, knocking the android to the floor as the plasma burnt through his side. Panther wanted to run, wanted to check if he was all right, but the pistol pressed to his head stopped him from doing so.

"KILROY, again, supposedly the guardian of the Protomen... Is nothing more than a fusion of man and machine" he jeered, lowering the buster. "A useful, if somewhat unwilling, ally for the last half hour, reprogrammed to obey my orders, and punished when he thought of rebellion. He was nothing more than a bodyguard, and a witness."

'You're mad, Wily!' Panther yelled. For the first time in a long while, he really was helpless. There was nothing he could do to stop these actions, even if he did try...

"If I am, then you are to blame...Now keep your mouth shut!"

'Turbo Lover, I know you're still in there somewhere...'

"That man is dead, Raul Panther. Don't bother trying to revive him."

Wily looked at the crowd, seeing the horror on their faces, cowering before him. It was good... but not good enough.

"Everyone and everything has a purpose, a use. A gun shoots, a knife cuts, a human works... but what about an artist? An artist creates scenes of beauty, appealing to the basic nature of humanity through paint and stone and steel..." He paused for effect, before continuing. "But before any of you think of the Protomen as artists, know this. Raul Panther calls himself not an artist... but a storyteller."

Out of nothing more than a sudden longing, he kicked Panther in the back, catching him by surprise, before turning his back on the crowd. A risky move, but the atmosphere cast over the place would hold people in place. "Now, think why I wouldn't want to kill the storyteller..." He turned back, a victorious look on his face as a sudden realization came to everyone. This was Wily's City, where the only stories permitted were those of his victories, of his personal gain, and of the disgraces of those who would turn their back on the "Good Doctor". To want someone to tell a story meant...

He laughed. "That's right. Someone needs to live to tell this tale, to warn humanity of the night the Protomen tricked a thousand people into a room, and then summoned the Joes, fleeing for their lives, but having the sheer misfortune to walk right into them. And that someone is the only person other than me who'll live tonight, ladies and gentlemen. He'll have to live with all your blood on his hands for the rest of his days, knowing that his plans failed and having no way of fighting back. Raul Panther, on your knees... and watch them all die..."

Wily laughed again, manically, as panic set in. So many people controlled by a pistol aimed at but one... It showed the foolish nature of humanity. Refusing to take risks would lead to their death, and they knew it. This would be his long-awaited victory. Nothing could ruin this night!

"There's nothing you can do, Raul Panther. I have planned these events for a long time now. Everything will come to pass, and you will be the only one to tell the tale... I wonder if you can live with that burden of guilt, or if you'll let it kill you, just like Turbo Lover did..."

'Turbo Lover is not dead.'

"Keep telling yourself that. It won't change the facts."

Wily looked around, committing the scene to memory. The Protomen, kneeling before him. Humanity, subdued. Panther, knowing his fate. He wanted to remember this scene for as long as he lived, wanted it to never fade from his memory. This was his crowning glory, the night that he bettered the Wily of this universe. Nothing could stop him now...

'If you don't want him dead... then holding him at gunpoint is pointless!'

A new voice was heard, one from the middle of the crowd, female. Wily was shocked, but refused to show it, instead asking the people, "Now who said that?" To his surprise, someone began to push their way through the crowd, eventually emerging out of the front. A teenager, with brown hair and oval glasses, a red sash tied to her arm showing her to be a dedicated fan...

'I did, Wily. Because it's true.'

"Oh really now?"

This was unexpected. Someone had stood up, made themselves known, lost their anonymity, and had put themselves at risk. He hadn't thought that this could happen, and so was forced to think on his feet. He decided to try and cast doubt.

"Just because I don't want him dead doesn't mean I won't kill him if you push me too far."

'Lies. You said it yourself, you need a storyteller.'

"Any one of you could be made into a replacement. It would be the same to the masses!"

'But it wouldn't be the same to you, would it?!'

Wily felt his hands begin to shake. This wasn't right. There wasn't supposed to be any heroes left in man, they were all supposed to be too scared to rise against him. She, however, was no man. Perhaps that was why she dared to continue, dared to raise a hand and point at him, dared to have a defiant edge to her voice as she shouted.

'You want Panther as the storyteller because it would be your ultimate victory, Wily. After everything he's done, to lose it all would be soul-destroying. That's what you planned, isn't it?'

"...Yes. But there's nothing you can do about it."

She shook her head. "No. There's everything we can do about it!"

Wily scowled, pointing the pistol at her. "Not if you're dead."

'That's not gonna happen!'

He turned, and was knocked to the ground by Panther. The girl had given him enough time to rise to his feet and attack. The scared look in his eyes was gone, replaced with hope. He jumped over Wily, returning his pistol to its rightful owner. Wily scrambled to his feet, trying to regain his sense of balance, charging the buster, before firing another shot. Panther was too quick, dodging out of the way. The only damage done was to the side of his shirt, burnt away, and the wall behind them, which was scorched. Before he could fire another shot, the pistol that Wily been pointing at Panther's head for so long was now aimed at his.

A grin came over Panther's face.

'Looks like the tables have turned.'

"This Buster's still aimed at you."

'Yes, but now I know you won't shoot.'

"And I know you won't either, Raul Panther."

'But I don't need to.'

Someone pulled Wily's arms back, yanking the buster from his hand and pinning them behind him in seconds.

'Haha, you smug ass! NOW we've got you!' Commander shouted, making sure that he wouldn't lose his grip. 'You're not going to wriggle your way out of this one!'

"Let me go you oaf!" Wily hissed, struggling to get his arms free.

'Hah, like I'm really gonna do that!'

The crowd broke into cheers, led on by the girl who had risked her life as the Nightwalker tied Wily's hands with a spare cable. Then the girl changed what she was doing, pumping her fist in the air as she shouted the mantra that they all knew, but for once wouldn't oppress. For once, it would liberate.

"WE HAVE CONTROL!"

'WE KEEP YOU SAFE'
"WE ARE YOUR HOPE!"

The crowed followed her example, hundreds of voices blending into one.

'WE HAVE CONTROL!'

"WE KEEP YOU SAFE"

'WE ARE YOUR HOPE!'

Right now, Wily was in danger. If they so wished, the crowd could rush forward, attacking and killing him as an act of revenge for what they had been through. They could tear him apart, destroy him entirely, but no-one wanted to. They wanted someone to return to them, someone who felt that he was worthless, someone who had felt guilt for actions beyond his control. The crowd was merciful, because they knew that if everything was false, one thing would still be true.

And that was the fact that no-one was beyond redemption.

"So...Raul Panther... what are you going to do to me?" Wily asked. For once, humility was heard in his voice, as though he was genuinely scared.

'We're going to drive you away, Wily. There's another man who needs to step forward, and that man isn't you.'

"Heh... you mean Turbo Lover?"

'Yes.'

"His personality shattered into thousands of pieces, Raul Panther... He can't come back."

'Yes he can.'

The Reanimator stepped forward, drumsticks in hand.

"No he can't. There's no way a man broken like that can-"

'The sound we played to create him is the song that will revive him.'

"That...that noise was a song?"

'It was. Deliberately distorted to make it incomprehensible to the conscious mind. The subconscious, however...'

He nodded at Panther.

'It deciphered it.'

'Yup. And now, if we play it, Turbo will come back from the dead.'

"You...you can't..."

Wily was shaking once more, uncontrollably. He knew what would happen if that song was played, realizing that his fate was sealed. Turbo Lover's subconscious was not entirely his own, part of it was shared between the two. They shared the same memories, after all, the same experiences, the same losses. But Wily had destroyed Turbo Lover, breaking his personality and mentally absorbing it back into his own.

If that song was played, he would be torn from Wily's mind, destroying the "Good Doctor" once and for all.

"You're going...going to kill me..."

'I'm sorry, Wily...' Panther sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'But you brought it on yourself."

"D-d-do not say this is how it has to be..."

'You do no better than the fools of this burning City.'

He turned away from the tyrant, smiling as he saw KILROY rise to his feet, albeit with a little help from The Gambler. He was tough, and even though they had all feared the worst when the plasma hat hit it's mark, they needn't have worried. Everyone would pull through, even the woman who had been shot in the leg was being helped by members of the crowd, the girl who had stood against Wily taking off the sash on her arm in order to use it to help bind a makeshift splint to their leg. The bullet couldn't be removed, but at least she wouldn't be left lame.

Once she had been made comfortable, the girl turned back to the stage, and jumped. Panther was standing besides her, a kind smile on his face as he took off his sunglasses.

'Thank you.'

The girl was shocked. She couldn't bring herself to speak, nodding instead as he removed the bandanna from his forehead and handed it to her.

'I saw that you took your sash off to help that girl and thought you needed a replacement. Here.'

'I can't take that... it's...'

'Believe me, we all owe you a lot more than just a bandanna. Take it. It's the least I can do.'

She hesitated, before nodding once again, a smile spreading over her face as she took the iconic bandanna and tied it to her arm.

'Take good care of it.'

'I will.'

Panther returned to the stage, nodding at every member of the band. The Reanimator was now holding Wily's hands back, the cable ready to be tightened at a moment's notice. Another silence fell over everyone as each member picked up their respective instrument and weapon, returning to their positions. Panther walked to his keyboard, placing his sunglasses on it's edge, before speaking into the microphone.

'Now, this song... It's not one of ours. But the message that it holds is one that we can all relate to. Right now, as a band, we are sans our beloved Turbo Lover, but with your help, we can fix that. This mess that we're all in, well...maybe you and I can still make it right.'

And with that, he closed his eyes, and began to play. Wily flinched, trying to free his hands, but to no avail. He had to listen, he could not cover his ears, he could not drown out the song. He would die as he thought Turbo Lover had died; not with a roar, but a whimper.

'Take the children and yourself

And hide out in the cellar.

By now the fighting will be close at hand.'

He sang slowly, his voice soon joined by The Gambler's and the Nightwalker's.

'Don't believe the church and state

And everything they tell you.

Believe in me, I'm with the high command!'

Now the whole band was singing, their voices pleading with Turbo Lover's subconscious, trying to will him back to life.

'Can you hear me, can you hear me running?

Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?'

The crowd began to sing along, their voices fusing seamlessly together. Every soul was calling for the return of a fallen hero, one who they believed could be redeemed.

"Can you hear me, can you hear me running?

Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?"

This song...

I...

I know it...

Is everyone singing...for me?

Do they believe that much in me?

I...

Am I not beyond redemption after all?

A trail of thought began to shape within Wily's mind. One that shone through the darkness of his deeds and plans, one that forced the shadows back.

YOU

HAVE

HOPE

If that's true... then why did the crowd sing for him? Why were they willing to try to bring him back, despite everything that had happened?

YOU

ARE

NOT

SAFE

He was no less safe than he always was. The only danger now was this voice, trying to blank out the outside song. If the crowd wanted to kill him, they would have done so already.

HAVE

CONTROL

Then why was the voice panicking? Why was Wily so desperate to stop him if he have control over everything? He couldn't control him. That was what made him afraid.

YOU

ARE

BEYOND

REDEMPTION

No-one is beyond redemption. Not even me.

REFUSE

DIE

His mind was now split in two.

In the darkness stood Wily, his clothes stained with blood, torn, the painted "W" on his face running, leaving black streaks across his face. The blue of his eyes showed anger and fear.

In the light stood Turbo Lover, his clothes clean, pressed, the "W" on his cheek precise, the rest of his face clear. The brown of his eyes flared with hope.

"I'm not dead, Wily."

"No, but you will be soon."

"No. You will be."

"You can't kill me, Albert. I AM you."

"You are not me. I stand for myself, but not by myself. I know that now."

"Hah! How can you know that?"

"Because if I stood alone, then I wouldn't hear their voices."

Wily froze as the song penetrated his mind, his haven.

"No... they can't come in here! I won't let them!"

"I will."

Turbo Lover spread his arms, and the voices grew louder, the light growing in intensity, forcing Wily's shadows back. He tried to shield his eyes, pain warping his voice.

"It doesn't matter! Our sins will still be on your mind! No matter what you do, I will live on through your deeds!"

"My deeds are mine and mine alone. Yours are yours and yours alone. The only thing that your crimes will do to me is to drive me onwards against this universes' Wily!"

"You can't stop him!"

"If I can stop you, I can."

The light uncovered everything within his mind, Turbo Lover remembering everything once more. This time, he wanted to know. He wanted to know what Wily had kept from him just before he died.

And then he found it.

"You actually wished Panther was your friend..."

"LIES!"

"You can't lie to me, Wily! You... you were jealous of me. I was allowed to be the friend you wanted to be..."

"YOU HAVE NO PROOF!"

"Then why did you not anger him after you killed The Merchant?"

Wily screamed, cracks appearing over his body as though he were made of glass.

"I would die for the Protomen, Wily. I would die for Panther, for Commander, for any one of them! I would die for that crowd! I would die for the good of humanity!"

He pointed a single finger at him, yelling with all his might.

"But I WILL NOT DIE FOR YOU!"

The light shot through Wily, shattering him into thousands of shadows. Turbo Lover watched as the light dissolved removed them. He wouldn't absorb Wily's personality. He had no use for it.

Turbo Lover was his own person once more.

He fell to his knees, smiling softly as the words of the outside world echoed through his mind.

"Can you hear me, can you hear me running?

Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?"

"I can hear you...and I'm coming back..."

Everyone continued singing, with one voice, as they reached the end of the song, everyone's eyes locked on the man in the suit. The last line was sung with desperation, begging for the man they all knew was good in his heart to return. His eyes were shut, but now, as the music faded, he opened them.

Turbo Lover looked back at the crowd.

"I...thank you..."

They cheered. Everyone did. Relief was the feeling shared by everyone. The Reanimator untied Turbo Lover's hands, and then shook them. The crowd spilled onto the stage, happiness replacing all over emotions as they embraced him, thanking him for returning, and trying to reassure him that Wily's deeds were not his. This, he knew now, but he was too busy being overwhelmed to reply. Eventually, Panther managed to reach him, holding out a hand.

"Welcome back, Turbo. We missed you."

The night was gone from the City now. The Protomen had managed to leave before the Sniper Joes had arrived, and there were no reports of any casualties. Wily had been dealt a blow that night. Humanity had stood up for Turbo Lover. Now they could stand up for themselves.

A cool wind was blowing that morning as Panther and Turbo Lover watched the sun rise from the top of a decrepit building. It was something Turbo Lover had wanted to do, because he had been so sure that he would never see the sun again. Its warmth melted the last of his doubts away as he began to speak.

"You know, Panther...Wily liked you."

'Really now?' Panther laughed, pushing his sunglasses over his eyes.

"Yeah. He wished he could have been your friend, actually. Disagreed with your ideals though."

'Haha... he would. I guess he was jealous of you then.'

"Yeah... told him that just before he died."

'What, did you two have an epic battle inside your head?'

Now it was Turbo Lover's turn to laugh. "Yeah, something like that."

Silence fell over them as the sun rose higher into the sky, banishing the night away fully.

'You know, Turbo...that what he did wasn't your fault.'

"I know now, yeah. I wish I could've stopped him, but... at least no-one died. Is KILROY going to be okay?"

'Yeah, we have spare parts to repair the damage done, and we're going to change his override codes.'

"Good good..."

It was time to leave and move on. They had to keep moving. After all, they had a duty to spread the truth. Both men stood simultaneously, heading for the door, but as Panther reached it, Turbo Lover stopped.

"Panther... there's just one thing that's still bugging me..."

'What is it, Turbo?'

"Why haven't I got a real name? Besides Turbo Lover..."

Panther leant against the door, crossing his arms.

'It's not up to me to give you a name. You need to choose that for yourself. But a man does not need a name in order to fight. People are judged on deeds, not words, after all.' He smiled again. 'Besides, Turbo Lover has a hidden meaning anyway.'

"Huh? What is that?"

'Not saying. Just think about it. If you want a clue, then look at the initials. Now c'mon, everyone's waiting for us.'

Turbo Lover nodded, following Panther as he opened the door and started walking down the stairs...

...The initials? What could possibly be special about them, he thought, before he realized. The initials of Turbo Lover were TL. And that was shared with...

"I see..." he murmured to himself, almost silently, as they rejoined the rest of the band. Everything was going to be fine now. It would be hard, but they would succeed. They had to, for the sake of every soul in the City. As everyone walked into the bus, they all knew now that one other thing was true, despite everyone being redeemable, despite humanity starting to stand for themselves, and despite last night's victory against a younger Wily.

The engine started, the smell of petrol filled the air momentarily as the band moved onto the next area of the City to continue the task that they had been charged with. After all...

The Protomen still had work to do.