Oi, I know I shouldn't do this.
I know I have other stories to do.
I know there isn't time for me to be off messing around with a whole different genre (and category).
I know that I've crossed the Japanese and English names in some forsaken hodgepodge.
And yes, I know I'm a idiot.
Tis Celia here, with one of those ideas. You know the kind, they just don't take the hint and die off.
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Disclaimer: Alrighty then, you're gonna listen and listen good, cause I ain't repeating this! All characters are copyright a bunch of rich people. Sadly, I am not rich. You do the math.
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WHY TREBLE ISN'T PURPLE
A long, long time ago, in a galaxy not so far away, there was a bunch of stuff that happened that wasn't supposed to. Like Armored Panty becoming a fashion for guys. But that's not what we're here to talk about. No, we have something much more important to discuss. Like why the school cafeteria serves dog food instead of whatever 'mystery casserole' is supposed to be. Or something like that.
In any case, there was an event that wasn't supposed to transpire that did. And that changed the future. Now don't go telling me about paradoxes and how blah blah is supposed to yadda yadda, because I've never been one to listen to logic or all that nonsense about fate and destiny. To quote someone much more adept at authoring stories and just about everything else, THERE IS NO SPOON!
Ya see, I don't like it when fate or destiny or Bill Clinton messes up, but that seems to happen a lot and I can't do anything but write about it. So that's what I'm going to do-write. That's right readers, Celia's at it again with one of those Tom Fool™ ideas and she isn't going to let something like 'reality' stop her. So buckle up and keep your limbs inside the vehicle, cause you're going to come to the realization that this isn't just some fanfic…oh no, this is history rewritten…
CHAPTER 1
The Dangers of Housekeeping and Prolonged Exposure to Incessant Noise.
Bass sighed.
So that was it, huh? 'You fail one more time and get your circuits ripped out, don't come cryin' to me.' Thank you Wily. Excuse me for trying to defeat your archenemy.
Stupid, stupid blueberry.
Absentmindedly, the black robot picked at the still smoking wires. Ooohh, that was gonna leave a mark. He looked down from his perch at the pedestrians below, then back at the sky that loomed above, then at the raindrops that were steadily getting thicker, he came to a conclusion."I'm a dead little 'bot. Yes siree."
It wasn't like he could go anywhere, being neatly tied up and hung from a building twenty stories in the air, Blues' work no doubt. The sadistic creep had the strangest sense of humor. Astro boy would never pull a stunt like this, not in a million bazillion years. Rock was more likely to take him back to the lab for repairs...again. Too bad he couldn't remember exactly what happened. It would probably come in handy later. All he remembered was looting a store, then battling Megaman, a whistle, and a whole lot of screaming.
In any case, the street was looking a little on the small side from his position, and he didn't feel like going 'el splatto', not just yet. But the exposed live wires weren't going to handle the rain very well, not very well at all. The Blue Bomber's rival was probably going to short circuit, twenty stories above the street, hanging from a flagpole on the side of a skyscraper.
"Oi, that's a pathetic way to go..."
But no, the fates weren't done with their chew toy yet, oh no. They had lots and lots in store for him.
"YOU! UP THERE! WE HAVE A WARRANT FOR YOUR ARREST!"
Bass twisted around, a mistake as it turned out. Pain shot through his gears, and an odd grinding sound filled the air. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists and cracked open an eye. The red flashing lights of police cars were easy to see through the hazy rain, a little too easy for Bass. Great, just...great.
It was about then that the robot master's systems decided to give out.
Roll swept the last of the dust out from under the couch, then sucked it up into the vacuum. Setting the putrid green Lazy-boy back down, she plopped down on its worn surface and flicked on the television. Finally, with the floors mopped, the ceilings dusted, and the lab spick and span, she had time for a break. Sighing to herself, she flipped through the channels halfheartedly. Ah, daytime television...
"Garbage...soaps...garbage...infomercial...garbage...soap...soap...soap...news...soap...soap...Bass' being deactivated...soap...hey-WHAT!!!?"
With newfound enthusiasm, Dr. Light's housekeeper switched back the news station. A pretty reporter flipped her hair, pointing to the all too familiar robot museum where an armored car was being led to the back door.
"...the Robot Master was found hanging unconscious from a building this afternoon, after being defeating by the robotic hero, Megaman. An anonymous call alerted the authorities-"
Rock? Tie someone to a flagpole in the rain? I bet it was Blues…
Roll's musings were cut short by the door bursting open. An ecstatic Blues, followed by a not-so cheery Rock, strolled into the main room, tracking mud all over Roll's clean floor. Eyes narrowing, the pair's sister stood up, hands on her hips.
"OH yeah! Did you see the look on his face!"
"That wasn't very nice…"
"This is Bass we're talking about."
"Yeah, but they're gonna deactivate him…"
"So what? You can only drive a tank through town, let loose a herd of rabid dogs on a crowded street, bomb City Hall, kidnap people's kids, etc. so many times before the law gets fed up with you."
"Well…they could just reprogram him…"
"Oi…" Blues shook his head, sitting down on the newly vacuumed chair, "Humans don't work that way. You should know that by now. They're superstitious little people who'll probably ostracize our little pest from freakin' society forever, even if he did something like save a busload of kids from going over a cliff. Which is something he wouldn't do anyway. They hold grudges, ya know. Why the heck would you want him around anyway? And where the heck did I learn the word ostracize? And thinking of pointless questions, why do you keep asking me to-"
Roll's scowl deepened, "AHEM!"
Both brothers turned to their well-protected, and uncharacteristically ticked-off sister. And both of them took off like a shot for the doormat, dropping the dirt caked boots where they belonged. And the Beast was satisfied, for now anyway.
"Thank you," she smiled sweetly, "and next time don't make me remind you!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever…" Blues continued his rant, but this time chose to mutter under his breath the whole time. A wise decision indeed, if he intended to keep Rock from hearing some words that should never be uttered in the presence of children. Flinging his scarf over his shoulder, he took the stairs a few at a time. The audible slam of his door shook plaster from the ceiling. Rock inched away from Roll, who was a only a stone's throw away from going on a homicidal rampage. Housecleaning does that to you.
"Um…I'm just going to check the lab, okay…"
Roll broke out of her trance, "Oh, sure. See you at dinner. Tell the Doc that it's his favorite, kay?"
Rock shouted an affirmative over his shoulder on his way to the Lab, leaving what he believed to be a schizophrenic she-devil with access to power tools in the living room.
Roll listened for the sounds of her brother's footsteps to fade away before she plopped back down on the recently slimed couch and flicked on the TV once again. She'd start dinner later.
The lady on the screen pointed to a brigade of armed personnel, surrounding a smaller group who were dragging along an all too familiar black form.
"Today in the news, one of Wily's most troublesome robots has finally met its end. The police are not releasing any specific details as of yet, only that they hope to download the location of Wily's current fortress before deactivating the bloodthirsty machine. Tomorrow, Dr. Thomas Light will be visiting the holding cell in which the robot will be kept in hopes of extracting the information needed and safely shutting down this nuisance to society. More details at eleven."
Roll's eyebrows shot up. Dr. Light was going there? Roll hoped that she wasn't asked to go. Sure, she didn't mind seeing Bass (watching Blues gloat was one of her favorite pastimes), but the Robot Museum just wasn't her favorite place. Think about it like an open-air graveyard. Yeah, a real cheery sort of place filled with irreverent children who bounded down the halls, dusty corpse with bright lights glaring down at the empty shells that once were your ancestors…they once were alive, there was something behind those eyes…
Shaking her head to clear the all to familiar image of the sterile white walls, she leaned back in the comfy green chair. Roll looked blankly and the soon to be mildew covered couch and muddy floor. She still had to make dinner for the doctor too…
Putting on her best 'happy' face she jumped to her feet, "Better get started. Chores don't do themselves!"
****
"Dum de dum dum…something somethin' something…goes 'round and round, round and round!"
Sam stared at his bleary-eyed companion. The two guards had been subjected to constant torture for the last four hours, and had left their sanity behind long ago. Joe was supposed to be back here with the earplugs twenty minutes ago, but there was a bet saying that he had run off. Lucky son of a dog…Sam's inner rambling was cut short by the desperate cry of his fellow guard.
"Make it stop…make it STOP!!!"
The high pitched and purposefully out of tune medly of chaos continued. Surrounded by reinforced walls, and what was believed to be sound proof barriers, the sound continued, this time taking the form of just one high pitched note, ringing on.
"Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!!! I'M GOING CRAZY IN HERE!!! LET ME OUT!!!!"
Sam, one of the Robot Museums finest men was reduced to banging his head against the wall in an attempt to clear his head. Dr. Light better be here soon, then that-that-thing would finally be silenced forever…yeeesss…yeeeesss!! He had to stop himself from letting out an evil chuckle. And I thought my kids were loud…
"LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALAAAAAAAA!! Can you idiots hear me?"
"I'm gonna kill it myself…I'll rip it's voice chip out…yeah, then I'll wire'em to a toaster…and…then, hee hee, I'LL MAKE TOAST!!! It's genius I tell you! Genius! Nya-hahahahahaha!"
"Sam? Sam? You okay…?"
****
"Now remember, Blues, the Doc said you hafta be on your best behavior."
Blues snorted, Roll coughed, and there was much merriment in the back seat. Rock was not happy. No, he wasn't happy at all.
"I'm serious!"
The merriment continued.
"Roll, I thought you knew better," Rock sighed.
The merriment continued, only louder this time.
Rock sighed and looked at his reflection in the window. This is going to be a looong day.
Doctor Light smiled to himself, listening to the bickering behind him. Just like a typical family, they had their arguments, usually ending with Blues leaving or Roll interfering. Today, though, Blues wanted to torment Wily's greatest creation too much to be turned back by his little brother. And although, Roll was being a little out of character as well-a strange side-effect of her advanced programming and one too many fudge sundaes for lunch-Light had a feeling that the day was going to be an okay one, despite all the warning signs… Warning signs like meeting with a psychotic robot, extracting info from said robot, keeping Blues and Rock in the same room for over two minutes…heck, now that he thought about it, even waking up at all…
The ancient truck rattled its way into the parking lot of the infamous Robotics Museum, with it's precious robotic cargo more or less in tact. Dr. Light's latest invention (designed solely for going through whatever file codes Dr. Wily had installed in his greatest creation yet) had been covered by a tarp and tied down. Needless to say, its odd shape was gathering stares faster than a Riply's exhibit.
Blues feet had barely touched the gravel-ridden pavement before they were hounded by reporters. Resisting the urge to just give the pesky humans a kick in the pants, he adjusted his scarf and shades and, clearing his throat, gave the best reply he could to the barrage of questions.
"SHUUUUUT UUUUUUUUP!!!!"
The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the hover-truck.
"Thank you."
Unfortunately, the glorious peace was broken by an earsplitting (and slightly soprano) screech.
"BLUES!"
The red robot winced at the noise, muttering under his breath about blueberries and their stupid rivals. Stepping to the side, he watched the unusually colored side door burst open once more, slamming into the spot he was standing moments before and revealing the scarf-bearing creature's little brother, who was all but foaming at the mouth. Roll giggled, Dr. Light sighed, and the former silence was gone for a looooooong time.
It took twenty minutes to answer all the press's initial questions, then twenty more to answer the second barrage, finally driving Roll of all people over the edge. Grabbing the good doctor's arm, she stormed through the crowd, barreling press people right and left. Blues followed, eyeing the destruction with his eternally tinted vision, with Rock bringing up the rear.
The museum's doors were reluctant to open, and showed this by creaking loud enough to wake the dead, but not loud enough to cover what sounded like a banshee's wail. Through the hallways the eerie melody floated, taking the form of one song and then another. It bridged the gaps between rock, nursery rhymes, pop, a bloody old English war song, rap, and even just plain screaming yer lungs out until finally falling in a rut with one particularly haunting melody.
Roll shuddered to herself, though it had nothing to do with the draft coming from the overworked AC. To her left and right were exhibits depicting so many machines, from EDI, an ancient 21st century robot, to some of the Robot Masters. Her brother's fist unconsciously clenched when they passed the severed head of Gutsman and a model of Dr. Wily's last Skull Castle. The notes that seemed to penetrate every once of air in the whole museum only added to the frightening effect.
They finally came to a door, surrounded by security personnel all in various stages of boredom, insanity, and relief at the sight of Dr. Light. The sound seemed to be coming from behind the door. But before Dr. Light could say so much as a hello, the tune ended and a crash echoed through the hall, followed by a repertoire of words from a more colorful variety than what Roll and her young brother were used to.
"Yep, that's Bass all right."
One guard, his name tag reading 'Sam', began banging his head against the twice-forged steel walls. Roll's advanced hearing could make out the words 'why', 'me', demon', and 'toaster.' She thought it best not to ask.
Dr. Light was lead up a flight of stairs by one of the more calm attendants, who had to remove a pair of industrial strength earplugs before speaking. The plain steps led to a high tech door that seemed out of place in the museum. It opened with a hiss, ejecting hot steam that clouded the view for a moment. Roll half expected to see a monster tied to a table, or a ray gun, or a priceless diamond, but only a small room was there to greet her inquisitive gaze. Monitors took up the entirety of one wall and a few chairs were scattered here and there. A middle-aged man rose from one of the many chairs placed in front of the screens. He was immediately recognizable as Dal Sego, the suave silk suit and trademark mustache stood out like a sore thumb in the immaculate room. Next to him stood a representative of the military and a few of the museum's employees.
"Aaah, Dr. Right, how very nice to see you."
"Dr. Light," Blues corrected automatically.
"Oh, my apologies," answered the businessman, giving Blues a look and deciding that he didn't like him. Not one bit.
"Quite all right," Dr. Light said, "Now, I understand we have a robot to interrogate?"
"Yes, come right this way, Dr. Right."
Blues opened his mouth, thought better of it, and began slowly counting to ten under his breath. Hoo-boy, thought Roll, this isn't going to end well…
"As you can see, it is completely out of control."
Dr. Light stared at the screens, his bushy white brows knitted together in concentration. The monitor showed a live video of Bass's cell. Stripped of his armor and weapons, Bass was hardly recognizable as Megaman's tormentor, the only familiar thing being the twin scars. Right now, he was shouting out the lyrics to who knew what, (the scientists had disconnected the sound hours ago to save their sanity) while bashing himself against the wall. Every now and then he'd stop to get his breath, sing a few songs, shout obscenities, and then return to throwing himself against the wall in a desperate attempt to escape. All he had to show for his efforts, though, was a good-sized dent and several traumatized guards.
"Bass has been screaming for four straight hours now, and security would be very much obliged if you were to hurry with the interrogations and shut the monster off. We had to close the museum because of the noise."
"Believe ya," whistled Blues. Even here, his robotic ears could pick up strains of Bass's noise-making. Rock and Roll nodded in agreement.
Dal Sego ignored Blues, continuing, "We will send down a team to get him whenever you are ready."
"Give the word," answered Light, still watching the screens.
