Chapter 10
Protoman stared down the hall of fusion lasers with fierce intensity. Jennings' voice came over comms, "By my count, you have lost seventy-seven arms, a hundred and twenty-two feet, and forty-five heads. Wily's security won't be as forgiving as mine, Scott."
He nodded, irritatedly. "I've passed through the hall perfectly for the past two weeks straight, Brian. I think I'm ready." He replied.
"That is true." Jennings said, "But before that you lost seventy-seven arms, a hundred and twenty-two feet..."
"I get it." Scott said, cutting him off.
"Do you?" Tracy said, now. "Tomorrow night, if you make one mistake, whatsoever, you won't even make it into the White House. Run it again, Scott."
They watched on as Protoman maneuvered his way, daftly, through the laser field, emerging unscathed. "Twenty-five seconds." Jennings said from the control room.
Scott unwrapped the yellow scarf from around his neck, pleased with the results.
"Again." Tracy came over comms.
Scott was in disbelief, "What the hell Tron? I've run this course thousands of times." He looked over to the glass window, tapping his helmet, "I've got it down."
Tracy nodded, from behind the glass as the comms came back on, "You're right Scott. Now, set up to go again."
If it made his sister feel better about what he was about to do, then he decided he would obey her every request for preparation. He walked back to the start, eying the lasers with intense focus, as he ran it again...and again.
The White House- August 15, 2099
Curtis Wily walked into the Calligraphy Room, pulling on a pair of work gloves and rolling up his sleeves. Hundreds of half-developed androids lay lifeless on tables lining the rooms. He thought back to the days before the takeover and how magical it felt to him, creating a living being from inanimate parts. He sighed, pushing his now grey hair back into a ponytail, now it was just...work. He began stitching the light blue hair follicles into the scalp of his near-finished subject, this ones chip was already programmed and installed, all he had left was to put on the finishing touches.
He felt deflated, he hadn't slept in days and the dim lighting of the room wasn't helping matters. Wily pulled his comms from his pocket, "Guts." He called.
"Yes, Sir?" Gutsman replied.
"This room feels like it's strangling me. Have some droids sent up to help me move to the West Wing." He requested, rubbing his eyes.
"Right away, Sir." Guts responded. "What about the ten security droids stationed in your location? No reason to leave them in the open, and the other rooms are occupied."
"I don't care, store them in the First Lady's Office for now." Wily said.
Gutsman stood at his control console in the Diplomatic Reception Room, having a friendly "chat" with his head of communications, Quickman. "Guts, it's been almost seven years and I haven't come across the slightest hint of The Rancors. I think it's time to accept the fact that Mags got himself into something personal and ended up paying the price." Quick stated to a frustrated Gutsman.
"Magnetman was one of us, Quick." Guts replied, solemnly. "There was a time when that meant something. I know you are second generation, but machines should look out for our own. No matter what."
"I get that, really I do, but you have to understand that I literally have no data to go off of. By the time my machines reached his last known location, he was a smoking frame with a half of a head. No trace, no incidents since." Quick responded.
"What about the impersonator, shortly after? Reports said that someone with the exact appearance of King Wily took a woman on a private cruise and never returned." Guts asked. "What ever came of that?"
"Absolutely nothing, Sir." Quick said, "The boat was found weeks later, abandoned. My guess is that Mags' killers possessed some sort of appearance altering technology, maybe someone from the 'Wraiths' incident wanting retribution. Either way, they've simply vanished."
Gutsman was about to respond when the sounds of blaring alarms cut through the silence. He looked to Quickman's holo, "Maybe they didn't after all." He said.
Quickman looked off screen for a second, "I'm linked in, you are looking at one intruder in the East Wing, First Lady's Office."
"He must think Wily is in the Calligraphy Room. Amateur." He said, before closing the feed and grabbing his steel case.
Light Tower
Dr. Light and Tracy stood in the Briefing Room, shouting at each other. "What the hell are you doing Preston?!" She yelled. "Order him the fuck out of there! Or send your people in to help him!"
"Calm down, Tracy!" Light replied, "There is too much on the line, just like your brother himself said. Miller and her men will pick him up at the Lincoln Memorial, he knows this!"
Tracy stormed out of the room, throwing her comms to the floor and retreating to her lab, locking the doors behind her.
Light pressed his temples, and activated his comms, "Lana."
"We are already on our way." She responded.
He nodded slowly, when he saw that Protoman's vital readout had ceased activity. His heart sank, Wily had to know, now. A small sense of panic washed over him, trying to remember the last place his son had said he was going. "Lana I think we've lost Protoman." He said, "Give him four hours, if he doesn't show I need you back here, Alex may be in danger and we need to find him."
Lincoln Memorial
Miller's skin went cold at Light's last statement. She turned to Radcliffe unable to focus on the task at hand. "We need to go." She said simply.
Radcliffe gave her a sympathizing look, "Captain, I can't begin to understand what you're feeling, but Dr. Light said to give Scott four hours."
Tears began to well up in her eyes, she cursed Alex for making her feel so weak. "Give me ten men, a small group, Marcus." She said, wiping her cheeks, "You are the only person who could know what this means to me. Just ten men."
Radcliffe lowered his head, "Alright Captain. I won't say anything, go find him."
The White House
Guts dragged the damaged android down the hall, taunting Scott as he threw his lifeless body into the compactor, and pulling the power switch. A tinge of thrill ran through him, knowing he was about to delve back into his element. Filing reports, coordinating with officers, all of that made him feel like his full potential was a complete waste. He had no patience at the moment, as soon as he pressed the "activate" key to the compactor, he was on his way to Wily's office.
When Guts walked in, Wily sat hands shaking from anger. "That," he began as he pushed his hair aside, "that, was an android, correct?" He asked, knowing the answer.
Guts nodded, "Correct, Sir."
Wily sat back in his chair, leg jumping rapidly, "Scott Bonne, of all fucking people, Scott, fucking, Bonne!" He shouted, shoving the contents of his desk to the floor. Wily gathered himself, "He's dead?"
Gutsman nodded, "Yes sir."
Wily pointed to him, "You are absolutely sure? You watched him die, you confirmed that he was destroyed?"
Guts thought for a split second, then lied, "Yes, Sir. Crushed and packed."
Wily let out a breath, "Good. Check with Quickman, I want Alex Light in here within three hours. I made a promise, Guts. And the bastard is making me live up to it."
Lincoln Memorial
Radcliffe and the remaining unit sat patiently, scanning for any sign of Protoman. "Sir." One of the troopers whispered, "South side of the Memorial, we got six 'scanners'."
Radcliffe stalked along the building to see that the situation was much worse. One of the scanner bots had picked up a heat signature and was on it's way toward them, followed by hundreds of gearbots. He ran back to his men, "We need to move, now." He ordered.
As the crew crept along the grass, twenty yards to the evac vehicle, the scout next to Radcliff lost his head. They all turned, opening fire on the group of machines, as Radcliffe raised his sidearm, relieving a number of bots of their human-like skulls.
The men began to crowd into the large truck, as Marcus took the assault head on, filling the dusk sky with a rain of sparks and fusion bolts. "Sir, we need to go!" One of the men shouted from the truck.
"We can clear them out, and get back to the rendezvous!" Marcus shouted, dodging fusion fire and retaliating.
One of the soldiers jumped out, grabbing Radcliffe from behind, "Protoman is dead, Sir! Do you want to join him?" He asked, before snatching him inside. The truck departed, cloaking a hundred yards out.
Marcus couldn't help but feel like he had left a man behind. Machine or not, Scott was a friend, as was Tracy. Having a child of his own made him convince himself that he did the right thing. Scott Bonne was dead, died years ago in fact. No matter how much he told himself this, he still felt like the lowest form of human, and Tracy would never forgive him.
Boston, Massachusetts
Miller and her team scoured the streets, frantically. This can't be happening. She thought. Things were finally going right for them. Alex had quit drinking, he was still in a state of depression but things were looking up. Light had told her about the entire story with Wily, and what he would do. This only made her panic more, Wily was not the type to bluff. Miller had finally told Light about her relationship with his son, and a counselor had been helping Alex cope with his anger issues, by implementing his love for baseball into a healing program.
Miller's head shot up, "Turn the truck around!" She shouted in realization, "Go to the old Bruins practice diamond, now!"
When they arrived on the scene, Miller ran onto the field, seeing a lone bat laying by home plate, and drag marks in the dirt. She dropped to her knees, crying, knowing that her life had just changed drastically. But not yet knowing, that the fate of the country would be changed as well.
(Note from the author: This chapter of The Bonne Chronicles parallels Chapter One of Megaman 2, titled "The Night Things Went Bad". To get the other perspective of this chapter's happenings, you can read it there, if you haven't already.)