DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Megaman franchise or anything else that is Capcom. This is purely a fan work with no hope of profit.

Title: Old Glory

Rating: M: Just in case.

Warnings: Since this will be AU, there may be what you deem as OOC because there will be situations that X, Zero, or any other original MMX characters will not have been exposed to. There will be BL and Straight pairings. It will have OCs relevant to plot since this is a setting that takes a long time after the canon universe. It also has been many years since this authoress has written fanfictions or played an MMX game. I plead for your patience. (So yeah this is kind of random for me too) Beta offerings are welcome.

Summary: AU with a combination of RMX + RMZ verses. Please read with an open mind. Much time has passed since the last reploid war and many things seemed to have worked out for the artificial side of society. Humans no longer place the Reploids below them and have accepted their right of existence at a place level to their own. Life seems dandy but is it really peaceful.

Prologue: Within Yemna

YEAR 24XX – Things are different now. Many are forgotten and most of us have let go of our inner turmoil. Yet I cannot be one of the masses. There is someone I must see. Something I've always wanted to say. Where are you… Zero?

– artifact 2402X

Centuries or perhaps millennias after the war of forgotten ages, its heroes lay forgotten, unsettled in the midst of cyber data particles that permeated the air of Metropolis. There was order now, one built upon a mountain of sacrifices, but none of its successors looked below for their dirty roots. They were happy and ignorant. Blissfully unaware of history and its bloodshed.

Reploids now are no longer the 2nd citizen. Humans and Reploids stood shoulder to shoulder, argued, hurt, and loved one another. There was no special hatred for the reploid who murdered a human and nor were there any animosity against the human who destroyed a reploids. Each were of equal consequences, judged righteously by both sides. The production of new technology soared with the unification of minds both artificial and human, together bringing a new and different view to the table.

Things truly seemed to be the golden era for the peoplekind of Metropolis. Harmony had settled onto its lands and its old inhabitants that still remembered the bitter past kept to themselves as to not sully the bright happiness founded by their young successors. But they will not forget. Nor will they let go of the scar so deeply ingrained into their metallic armors and this was how a rift was formed between the reploids themselves.

The new generation called themselves the Bright ones, a name mocking the former heavily burdened by centuries of hardships. The old generations gave themselves no label, but if anything, they would respond to Arcadians. The Bright ones were newly fitted with cutting edge technology and were much closer to humans in appearance and function than the reploids have ever been.

Less clunky, more graceful, they prided themselves on this notion that the vast gap between reploid kind and humans were filled in by themselves. Once this hole took place between the generations of reploids, the old and tired Arcadians were pushed to the outer city limits to inhabit ruins of the old cities of Metropolis. They didn't care however. This was a much earned privilege having been something that many had died for yearning.

Unfortunately, there was even division amongst the younger generations. The weaker in any kind, mentally or physically, were pushed out of the city with the Arcadians. They didn't mix well, but now the Outer Limits were a colorful group of what Metropolis did not want. This created more reploids to be born native to Outer Limit and a deep dislike between both sides was born from those who felt oppressed by the shining model citizens of Metropolis for the mere difference in birthplace.

Crawler and Rum were two prime examples of them. Born and raised in O.T., they prided themselves on the roughness of their armor and tone. Better than one that's never felt the earth in their gears! They say. Manlier and more capable than a group of maid bots! Would be another thing they liked to say.

They were scavengers that found old usable parts scattered around the battlefields, scars left from the forgotten ages, and made their living off of converting the old energy into new purer substances. Honestly, they had no clue how the old generations ever lived off of these things. Even the old Arcadians say so. They all got the upgrades they wanted even while they still chose the O.T. as their home. O.T. no longer meant 'old scrap metal', it just was a different way of living.

"This…"Grunt. "Kind of sucks." Crawler admitted, as he pulled away a large metal sheet from what had to be some sort of transport vehicle.

Rum only hums to acknowledge he heard the boy.

"It's positively burning out here and there's been NOTHING for hours." Crawler slams his foot into the side, somewhat grateful that he'd brought his thick armor but at the same time livid that it was so huge it got stuck in the dent it had created. "I think I felt yet another chip melt in meeee." He continues to whine while Rum paid him no mind, circling the impressive vehicle and then looking past it. To the vast sand lands of Yemna.

"…Rum. I think I'm stuck."

"You're a smart boy. You'll get yourself out." Something must have caught his attention because Rum is walking away from Crawler and not towards him to help out.

"No. No…and uh no. It's really stuck." Crawler emphasizes each 'no' with a grunt as he pulls on his leg to show just how stubborn the sheet was around his armor. Rum took no notice for he was far gone. "RUMMMM. Oh by the Bright fruity toots. I knew today was going to be terrible." He glances in the direction his partner had taken off to and then to his leg. He noticeably sags. "And you cost me a heap too you lousy heavy slab of dead weight." Detaching his leg from his armor, he slips and crashes into the rough sands of Yemna. If he were human, this would hurt more because the 'sands' were merely crushed metal shrapnel, broken into fine pieces over the years as the chemical bond between them weakened under the weather.

Crawler slips off the other boot because he had no desire to look like a retard with one bulky armor on one foot and not the other and leaves it there, feverishly hoping that no other scavenger would be as dumb as they were to come here. Yemna was an old hunting ground. There was probably nothing that remained worth taking that hadn't been carted away already. They were already pushing Yemna's borders into the Centurio Regions. The Centurions had no love for anyone from Metropolis….

"RUUUMMM. THERE IS A LIMIT TO HOW FAR WE'RE GOING TO GO RIGHT??"

Only the wind had the decency to reply to him.

After one last mournful look towards his heavy armor boots, he dashes off to the direction he had seen Rum go last.

What a fitting name. Rum, he must be intoxicated all the time, Crawler thinks darkly to himself. He continues the line of thought as he passes by more empty sand grounds of Yemna before he passes an invisible line. A border line, and an alert cries out shrilly. NOW IN CENTURION REGIONS. "FUCK." Quickly placing his hands over his mouth, he dives behind a huge rock and presses his palms against his cheeks.

Crawler felt so silly. He also felt very scared and then he was ashamed of himself. Where had his proud roughness gone?! …. The small, orange reploid with a messy clump of brown hair on his crown peeked over the side of his rock and stared long and hard. He tries reasoning with himself. No one, I mean NO ONE from Metropolis was crazy as Rum to want to go into Centurio country to find some scrap energy. That must mean…that there would be tons! Clenching his fist tightly, he agreed with this logic. This must have been what Rum had been thinking! His bright orange eyes lightened at the idea of profit and he gingerly began making his way through enemy territory.

This is so ridiculous. Crawler thinks. They were hardly a part of Metropolis but they somehow had to share enemies anyway. Beyond fair, he agrees with himself. A small blip brings him out of his thoughts and his eye widens when he spots Rum waving from a viewable distance away. …? Is he pointing at his ear? Why…Crawler frowns and pokes his ear just in case and a new sound enters his mind.

'Are you daft?' Jumping, the smaller reploid realizes that he'd forgotten their new purchase! The radio communication thingiemajigy! Apparently everyone had one implanted in their minds in Metropolis. Crawler shudders. How terrible….

'You ARE daft…' The voice of Rum muses as Crawler pulls himself out of his thoughts. Well, he had no clue how to reply but—'I'm not DUMB you stupid miserable hunk of metal on two feet. Do you even know where we are and why we're here? OH NO YOU DON'T. BECAUSE IT'S YOUR FAULT AND YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN IT'S YOUR DAMN FAULT.'

'You've no sense of adventure little one.' Rum's voice sounds again and Crawler immediately sets out on foot to get closer. There's no way he was going to let the other crazy guy have his one sided let's-pick-on-Crawler conversation. 'Why I'll give you adventure you bottle of fuzz drunk.'

He thinks he heard Rum laugh? 'Fuzz drunk? Whatever is that supposed to mean?'

Crawler is standing in front of him now but he kind of forgets what he was going to say. "…what? How'd you know what I was thinking?"

"Truly…are you a reploid or a fleshie?" Rum frowns at him before turning on his heels to lead deeper into some techno graveyard.

"No wait! I didn't even know how to operate this thing…and I did? All I had to do was THINK? ….that's kind of creepy you know. To think all of Metropolis has this---."

Crawler face meets Rum's hand. "Crawler, I adore you, but I need you to think a little harder on this." Rum gives him THE look. "Your mind was programmed to handle much harder equations than this one." Crawler makes a sound of protest. "However, that is beside the point right now. I've found something and it's kind of special."

Bright orange eyes light up at Rum and his tall, gray form. "Special is good." Crawler murmurs. "Wouldn't want to risk your butt for anything less than special." He walks past Rum into a space and in the middle was…a reploid? His face darkens and he frowns. "You found some retarded guy napping." Rum's hand rams into the back of Crawler's head in a not so pleasant way.

"I've found ourselves a sleeping beauty." Rum corrects and Crawler just gapes at Rum, not understanding. He glances back at the blond and red reploid and he still doesn't get it….

"Yeah okay, he's kind of pretty I guess…wait, now I'm not sure if he's a male model anymore."

Rum just hums again and moves towards the still form, beckoning Crawler without glancing back. "Come, he's tangled in there good, help me free him."

"Do…we really want to? I mean it's a reploid in Centurio country. Chances of him being Centurion seems kind of high…and we don't like Centurions." Crawler moves forward to help Rum anyway. He knew the reploid to be kind of strange and incomprehensible, but he's never done anything that hadn't benefited them in one way or the other. You could almost say that Crawler trusted in Rum's sixth sense.

It takes about 20 minutes of effort from both scavengers before they decide that the other reploid was decidedly stuck in between the rubble. Crawler stares at Rum who continues to attempt to free the long blond strands of hair that had curled around everything imaginable, as if it were trying to absorb its surroundings, and takes out his switch blade. The bright yellow blade bounces its light off on the surrounding metallic surfaces and Rum looks up.

"That…is a good idea but not one this unconscious fellow would appreciate." Crawler shrugs at the other scavenger.

"Way I look at it; we're risking our bum trying to keep some dude's pretty hair on his head. I don't even like this guy yet."

Rum hums quietly and stares at the mess around them before he takes his small blade out as well, except his was red. "Let's do this quickly. If anything, we'll offer him one of those regenerating scalps so he won't ever have to miss his hair for long if this is a reoccurring thing."

Crawler snorts. The blond strands were definitely long enough to be trouble for a lifetime he thinks and gets to cutting the soft strands as long as he can keep it…until he saw Rum cutting it at around shoulder length. "Duuude. You're kind of cruel."

Rum looks at him questioningly and Crawler merely shrugs. "Oh well, what's done is done. Let's try to cut at an even length though, yeah? I'd hate looking like a moron with disheveled hair." The smaller orange reploid suggests and Rum nods in agreement.

Soon enough, their work is done and the red reploid was free. The hair was admittedly ragged but there was nothing a good trim couldn't fix. They were nice enough to leave him some length past the shoulder at least right? They hoist him out of the small grove and with Crawler's help, secured him on Rum's large back. Rum shifts the weight around a bit before he finds a position that would work and leads them back out of the small jungle of old technology.

Crawler hesitates a few times before he catches up with Rum's constant pace. "Wait…that's it? We're just going to pick this guy up and leave? Look at all this potential Rum!" His arm does a sweep of the place around them.

Truly, it was scavenger heaven. Nothing had been touched or moved, they were preserved somehow as if there had been something shielding them for years, and there was definitely energy in the air. So thick that Crawler, and with no doubt Rum also, could feel. Crawler is met with a small shrug.

"Crawler, I think HE is the source of energy." The tall gray bot motions to the sleeping form on his back. "And look at him. He's definitely an old gen but he's still somehow different. Aren't you curious?"

The orange one mutters under his breath. "Curiosity killed whats-it."

"A cat." Rum supplies.

Crawler twitches. "And I ain't no scardey-cat!" He says as if in reassurance to himself. Rum chuckles far up ahead. "…do you always have to leave me behind?!" Catching up to the larger one, Crawler was only able to release the building tension once they had made it back across the border and to where he had last left his boots. "Oh! You waited for me~." He exclaims before he prances over to the heavy boots he had left behind. Rum regards the one still stuck in the dent on the side of the sheet metal. Crawler notices his stare and he laughs a bit sheepishly to himself. "Told you it was stuck good."

"Grab them. We're leaving now." He thinks about reminding Rum on why he had to leave them in the first place, but looking at the seriousness on the older bot's face, he slinks over to where the boot was still hanging and gives it a good kick. Or two. Or three. Well, it's really stuck isn't it. On the fourth kick, it's out and lands with a loud bang. Crawler throws his arms up in victory and looks over to where Rum should have been and lowers his arms. "I really hate how he always does that…."

He wasn't kept waiting for long. Soon a familiar rumble of their hover bike was heard and Rum pulls the stasis bar right in front of him. "Rum—."

"In. I think I've seen some of the Peace Corps loitering around here. I really don't want to stay for that with this-" Tall and Gray jerks his thumb behind him to where the reploid they picked up was secured, "in our care."

Crawler doesn't hesitate to scramble into the small spot between Rum and Red and holds on tightly as Rum shoots off towards O.T. without warning. 'I really hope this is worth it. If this guy is just dead, then this hunt was a total bust.' Crawler sends to Rum through the inline radio since there was no real point in trying to compete against the rumble of their old motor. Rum remains silent for the whole ride home.

Notes: I was planning to continue further to when Zero woke up but it felt right to end this chapter here. I'm sorry this chapter was OC-centric. Think of it as an intro. ;;