I have no mouth, and I must scream


Chapter 1: The Survivor

"You sure keep a tidy lab."

This was a bit of an understatement. Commander Commier had thought that Dr. Cossack, being one of the worlds three most prolific robot scientists, would have a lab to match this reputation, with tables of projects, scrolls of blueprints, and other glimpses into the future of advanced technology. But the lab inside Dr. Cossack's siberian citadel looked unused, and in fact had been completely untouched for many years except for a small cleaning robot who kept the floors clean, the counters dusted, and the tools polished.

They had laid the body of Forte on one of the empty lab tables. Whatever had hit Forte had scorched straight through his armor and blackened his circuits underneath. There was a mess of components, circuit boards were cracked, adaptors had shriveled to the size of raisins from heat damage, and most of the actuators in his lower body were completely crushed.

Usually a robot in this state would be considered destroyed, but it wasn't the amount of repair Forte's body needed that Dr. Cossack was concerned with. All he needed was the information inside his head, and as far as he could tell, Forte's electronic brain appeared to have made it through unscathed (perhaps the giant, ruined helmet Dr. Cossack had removed had its advantages after all). On the surface, his head was damaged too. Half of his face had been blown away, and there was exposed wiring all over his cranium. But this damage was superficial, Dr. Cossack could easily work around it.

"No word from Rockman?" asked Dr. Cossack as he wheeled a cart containing tools and a laptop to the table's side.

"No, he is still at the hospital with Dr. Light, refuses to leave his side. Hasn't said anything about Wily yet. This whole case is all very odd, if you ask me. It's too much to hope for that Wily has simply gone back into hiding."

"Nothing's ever simple with Wily," Dr. Cossack agreed bitterly.

"But in the mean time, this is great news!" Commander Commier said, brightening. "We've captured Forte, Wily's most infamous Robot Master, and rival to Rockman!—of course, we must keep this top secret for security reasons, but when it does get out, I wonder how the public will react. After all, he has worked along side Rockman many times in the past, it's almost as if he has no programmed allegiance to Wily—"

"He's an evil robot," Dr. Cossack cut in.

Commander Commier's face fell. "What do you know about Forte? Have you met him before?" he asked quietly.

"No. But he was created by Wily, and everything connected to Wily is corrupt. I don't know or understand the circumstances that caused Forte to defect those instances you are referring to, but in the end he has always returned to him. Forte was built by Wily, and Wily wouldn't create a robot that wasn't loyal to him, I believe there is little more to it."

"Ah, I see. Are you sure you do not want extra security?" asked Commander Commier. "I can send in some police robots to stand guard while you work."

"That will be unnecessary. My lab is secure enough to withstand a hydrogen bomb," Dr. Cossack replied. This was true, but mostly he preferred to be alone and did not like the idea of having an audience of police officers breathing down his neck while he made repairs.

"It's a good thing too," said Commander Commier. "I think it's only fair I warn you that Wily target your laboratory to recover Forte. I know your citadel is near impenetrable, but you must be prepared for the worst. As well, have you looked into additional security for your daughter?"

"She's studying abroad. I have one of my own looking after her."

"Well, that's very good. We wouldn't want her kidnapped again either," Commander Commier said with an uneasy chuckle.

Dr. Cossack didn't reply. He pushed his glass up to the bridge of his nose as he pulled a hanging lamp over Forte's head and began a quick examination of its circuitry with a silver pair of needle nose pliers. Commander Commier watched him for a few moments with great interest.

"I wonder how he got this way. Was it the fortress exploding, do you think?"

"I'm really not sure."

"Couldn't you reprogram him to betray Wily to us?" he asked hopefully as Dr. Cossack connected a long thin wire from his computer directly to the back of Forte's head.

"That would be ideal…" replied Dr. Cossack, tapping at his computer's keyboard, his eyes flitting back and forth across the screen. "But I'm afraid it won't be that easy. Forte is in very critical shape, and I don't think he'll be up to the conscious act of doing anything by himself without a lot of time devoted to repairs. But in the meantime I can run a scan of his memories. I imagine he'll know everything we need to know, including what Wily was planning to do with his new weapon you suspected him of building. I'll extract what I can. Then, we'll have our lead and Rockman can go stop Wily."

Commander Commier nodded. "Even just the last thing he saw would be helpful for a start."

He waited patiently as Cossack continued to work. Finally, green charcters began scrawling across Dr. Cossack's computer screen in tiny lines. "There, that's his code," Dr. Cossack said with a satisfied smile.

Commander Commier leaned closer to the screen, curious. "Goodness, that looks complicated! Like desiphering the contents of a document shredder! Can you make sense of all that?"

"It is complicated, but all I need to do is access the memory block—"

Suddenly, the code vanished, replaced with the message: access denied. Dr. Cossack blinked. Watching the code dissapear while he was in the middle of reading it was the exact same jarring sensation of someone slamming shut the covers of a book while you were in the middle of purusing it. He attempted to pull it back up and reacess Forte's programming. But his computer seemed to have locked up, and he was forced to restart.

Dr. Cossack kneaded his temples. "Commander, there is something preventing me from gaining complete access to the code. I'm afraid this will take time while I search for a work-around."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. The world is depending on you, Dr. Cossack. Needless to say, we'll have troops stationed around your citadel, just in case."

"Thank you, Commander. I'll call you as soon as I have more information. Will you let me know if anything changes with Dr. Light?"

"Of course."

Dr. Cossack watched as Commander Commier strode out of the room. Then he picked up the pair of fine tipped pliars and began to work on Forte's head again.


There was no sound, no sight. Only feeling remained beyond the thick black curtain that clouded his conscious, but even that was remote, disembodied, the muted sensation of touching hands together through thick gloves. Not painful, not comfortable, it was as though his mind had woken up, but his body was still sleeping, the limbo between life and death, of being in between spaces or standing in a narrow threshold.

Something thin and pointy seemed to be scratching at the interior of his head, but he could not open his eyes. The second thing he became aware of was warm pressure on his shoulder, a human hand. He tried to stir but he couldn't fight the invisible weight on his body. The hand on his shoulder disappeared and the scratching stopped. He thought he heard someone speak, but weariness crowded in and he was sucked back into the blackness again.


Roaring filled his ears. Something pinned him face down to the ground, burning. Pain wracked slowly through him, but calm washed over him, a mixture of anger and spite building inside.

There was something he had to do.

He twisted his face towards the light.

Rockman.

He could see Rockman's scared face. That had always been Rockman's problem. He was compassionate, weak, and now he was scared too.

But he was the opposite of all that. He was strong, powerful, the best robot ever built.

Rockman lacked conviction. Rockman was weak.

He was above all that. He was better then all that.

Someone was laughing.

...

The fire went out.

It was out of control now.


Several hours passed before he woke again. He still felt stiff and cold, but his mind was more aware and he began to piece together his surroundings. A flat, cool metal surface lay behind his back, tilting him towards the ceiling. It felt as though some strong force pinned him there, as though his limbs had been bolted down. He also sensed he was inside. He wasn't sure where. The dull roaring still ringed through his ears. He couldn't feel his arms or legs, move his fingers, open his eyes—

He wasn't scared. Of course he wasn't, powerful war machines like himself didn't get scared, even though he was alone, couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't hear. Couldn't think…

He slipped away again, as though revolving slowly through space. Slowly, little pieces of memory flashed back, but they were confused, his thoughts still tangled. The last thing he had been thinking about was Rockman.

Rockman. Where was Rockman? Had they been fighting? How had the battle ended? Had he won? What had happened to Rockman? What had happened to him?

He had to do something. Something important nagged at the corner of his mind. But everything was so unclear.

Eventually, it came to him, like a leaf slowly surfacing in a pond. Something was wrong with him. He couldn't move, see, feel, hear, or think. He needed to run an internal diagnosis. That was it.

His mind skipped like a record player, and he fell into a haze again. Eventually the nagging feeling pulled him out again, and he remembered what he was trying to do.

He needed to run an internal diagnosis. Something was wrong with him, and he had to focus to find out what.

Error.

It was all he got back from the internal diagnosis. It was a quick, prompt message, offering no encouragement of further investigation, nothing that he didn't already know. He couldn't scan how damaged he was. He couldn't open his eyes. He was blind, deaf, mute, and numb.

Where was he? What happened?

Why couldn't he feel anything?


As far as Dr. Cossack could see from initial scans, Forte's brain was completely intact, but he already suspected as much. He removed more of Forte's broken armor to find that the damage extended deep, which he also suspected. He estimated at least seventy percent of his body was beyond repair, and parts would need to be replaced if Forte was ever to function again. It was a staggering amount of work that would make even the most enthusiastic robot restoration artist cringe, especially combined with the complexity of repairing a Robot Master, but Dr. Cossack needed information on Wily.

How soon he could get this information, however, Dr. Cossack was unsure.

While Dr. Cossack was excellent with building and repairing robots, there wasn't much left of Forte for him to go on. If Dr. Cossack was going to continue making repairs, he'd need a copy of Forte's schematics. He knew Forte was based off of Rockman, and if Dr. Light's condition improved, Dr. Light would forward Rockman's schematics to him, and even if Rockman and Forte weren't completely identical, it'd be something to go off of. But better yet, Dr. Cossack made a note to contact Auto, Dr. Light's robotic mechanic and assistant inventor. Auto ran a repair shop during times of robot war, turning collected bolts and other scrap materials into items of use against Wily's robots.

During the robot war between the King and humanity, Forte had entered a temporary alliance with Rockman—how much of that alliance was a sham Dr. Cossack wasn't sure, as it was eventually discovered that King, like Forte, was one of Wily's robots, and Wily was once again the real mastermind behind King's operation—still, Auto had made Forte items, armor repairs, and adaptors in good faith, and so he must have had a copy of Forte's original schematics.

Dr. Cossack paused in his work, looking down at the ruined robot before him. Dr. Cossack harbored a loathing for Wily and felt a certain repugnance for working on his greatest creation at all. The creation of his worst enemy. Dr. Cossack had never had a chance to confront Wily again. He had never wanted to confront Wily again. Not after all the horrible things Wily had forced him to carry out during the forth robot war—Dr. Cossack hadn't want to take over the world, he had just wanted to save Kalinka, who was his world.

But he had to put all that aside for now. Dr. Cossack wasn't seeking revenge, though a lesser man might see this as an opportunity. He had no intention of keeping Forte longer than the investigation, whatever happened to Forte beyond that wasn't his concern. He secretly wondered if Dr. Light got well enough before this was all through if he'd take Forte off his hands. But Cossack tried not to look forward to that event; this was his job to to do, and he owed it to the world to stop Wily.

That was when Dr. Cossack noticed something startling.

Forte's remaining eye was open a crack, looking up at him, an unfocused crimson orb. Dr. Cossack stared back, a bit incredulous, for he was both certain it had been closed before and that Forte was completely shut down. But, to his amazement, he was also certain when he saw the eye close again.

Dr. Cossack's heart was beat a bit faster, feeling a bit unnerved. There should be no way for Forte to come online, the damage was too severe. Besides, robots couldn't just turn themselves on. Then he remembered the way the coding had vanished from his computer. Could it be? Was it by sheer force of will that Forte was rebooting his own systems—?

But that was impossible. Forte was just a robot, after all, a poor copy of Rockman built by Wily. Nothing more.


There were shapes now. He couldn't tell if he was awake or dreaming. He was lying in a foggy gray place. A ghostly white figure was flitting about the area, seeming to move at an unreal speed like a phantom. It came sweeping closer, an indiscernible mass. He tried to draw a buster, or at least move away, but there was that invisible disconnect between him and his body again, almost as if he were a ghost too, trapped in the room.

But it wasn't a state he could easily keep hold of, and he soon faded away again.


He felt a burning sensation in his chest, a raw sort of stabbing, like an electrified spike slowly carving into him. Something was wrong with his power core. It was too hot, like a sphere of lava slowly eating away at him from the inside.

Problems with the power core were always fatal. He could be dying right now. He needed Wily to repair him. Was Wily here with him? Where was here?

He couldn't focus. He knew something was wrong. He was aware enough to know he was dying. But that was it.

There was the creeping horror associated with the awareness of slowly dying while being unable to see, speak, hear, or even move. No way for him to repair himself. No way to find help.

Not that he needed help. Only weaklings needed help. He wouldn't die of this. He was too strong to die this way.

Blinded.

Deaf.

Numb.

Paralyzed.

Half-comatose.

Alone.

He wasn't scared.