He had obtained a firm refusal to be a hero. Not for a race so ungrateful, not for a race that could never understand. This would be the end of it all, forever. He would live for his own person, alone.
"They need a savior," he had been told. "They cannot help themselves." Well, they would certainly have to learn. Maybe then they would appreciate what had been done for their sake.
And so he watched from a distance, invisible to anyone who had not the intuition to find him. The human race performed monotonous, simple tasks each day as if they had no minds of their own. They were so like their oppressors, without the power.
They didn't seem to mind their lives. He couldn't understand what in the world they needed a hero for; of course they had no freedom, but they were rarely harmed. There were so many others who were far more deserving of the help they cried for, yet he was made to save the ones who wouldn't lift a lethargic finger to save themselves. If they needed someone to waste away, giving all of himself for all of them, then they could look to his younger brother: the beloved champion, the kind-hearted liberator. Mega Man.
He felt such resentment towards Rock, who was given credit for what had been his battle. And for what reason? He had put the same effort into the work, with less aid.
The citizens walked up and down the sidewalks, under watchful eyes. They were as dead as their mechanic overseers. A slight, barely visible smile crossed his face when he thought about it: he, a machine, had more life than the human beings he had been created to protect.
They were so simple-minded and dreary; they never did anything new, rarely made fresh accomplishments, and were frightened of anything that looked dangerous. The robots weren't so difficult to get rid of, definitely not like their masters, but their number created another problem. No matter; with enough willing fighters, it wouldn't be so challenging. But no, they were too afraid. Harmless shadows and eerie sounds frightened them. It shouldn't have surprised him that the thought of fighting for freedom would be too much to ask.
They all looked the same to him, no one any more special than the other, just like the robots. He spotted a girl in a pure white dress walking in the crowd. She caught his attention momentarily, before he realized that she was just as ungrateful, unintelligent, and uninteresting as any other.
The sun was shining brightly, and reflected off of the windows on the skyscrapers. They looked like a swarm of stars lighting the city's day. The sky was a pale, faded blue around the sun, with a more electric color towards to horizon. Not a single cloud was present to ruin the perfect scene.
How he secretly yearned to enjoy the world without bother. The sun, the moon, the air and wind, rain, anything. However, he held onto the fact that he never would. There was no place for him, no extra room to share the beauty with him. Not even a drop of warm sunlight could be spared to grace his skin. Nothing.
Is this the only way for me to experience life? He asked himself. Will I rot away in the abyss of my being shunned?
He no longer had a purpose. Although he had vowed to live for himself, he knew not what to do with himself. If there was nothing for him to enjoy, and if his reason for creation had turned out to be a fallacy, then what was there for him to live for?
He considered these thoughts for some time, undisturbed in his dream-like state. He had not noticed the time that had passed. The streets had cleared, the daylight turned to moonshine. Hardly a soul walked the streets at night.
He resolved to remain as he was. He would merely wait for fate to change for him, for he had no business trying to change it himself.
It came to a point where the streets seemed to be entirely empty. Sensing it would be safe to make an appearance, he stepped out of his quiet sanctuary and onto the sidewalk. He inhaled the gentle night breeze; felt it on his face, let it push him forward, down the street. It was as if he were in a trance or deep meditation. Nothing mattered.
Without the sunlight, the city seemed to be a forest of black masses and streetlights. He ventured through his silent wonderland without care, without notice of eminent danger.
He was knocked from his state by noticing something familiar. It had only been a few hours since he had seen it. He had believed it to be miniscule at the time. Even at this second, it still felt trivial, but he had an odd feeling.
The same girl in the pure white dress who had been walking down the sidewalk during the day was now walking towards him, on the opposite side of the street. She was alone, but didn't seem bothered.
Was she insane? Did she not know what could happen to her at this time of night? He stood bewildered. Or maybe she worked for Wily. Maybe she had nothing to fear. Either way, she was not his concern, not anymore.
She continued on her way, and never noticed Blues, but he would never have touched her, not even come close to it. However, he was not her concern.
There was another thing she had not noticed. In an alley, just off of the sidewalk, the very one she had chosen to venture on, was a rather large man. He had already seen her, and waited like a spider in its web for the unsuspecting prey to find itself entangled in his trap.
She approached the alley, and as she did, Blues saw the man. This brawny middle aged man stepped out in front of her, and grabbed her in a most unpleasant manner. The girl pushed him away, but to little effect. He was not deterred. He snatched her up with twice the vigor, and when she refused him again, he slammed his fist into her ribs. She was stunned, and struggled to catch her breath. Another blow caught her left eye, and she stumbled backwards.
Again, the man forced himself upon her. At this point, Blues had seen enough. Stupid and ungrateful or not, this girl was being attacked by one of her own, and in a time when the lot of the humans should have been coming together as one to protect each other. Blues felt enraged at the disgusting act.
He flew at the man in a rage, fists flying with no care as to what damage he caused. The man didn't even have the time to scream. Blues stopped only when the man fell, unconscious. Maybe he was dead, but now he could no longer lower Blues's expectations of the human beings he had been made to protect.
The girl sat silently on the concrete. Her face was pale with fear, her eye beginning to darken with bruising. She seemed unsure of what to do now; her attacker was gone, but here stood this man-or what looked like one-who had most likely beaten a man at least twice his size to death.
"Thank you," she said, almost in a whisper. "You saved me."
Blues heard her speak, but was not able to process the meaning of the words. He hated the human race, but couldn't understand why he had helped this girl. But then there was something different about this. Although she stared fearfully up at him, ominous looking as he was, she had appreciated what he had done for her. She knew he was a hero, at least for her. She stood, using what strength she had, and thanked him again.
She had thanked him.