Chapter 2
Roll-Fashion Model Extrodinaire
Blues smirked.
"Don't you say a word."
Bass wasn't happy. And that was the understatement of the year. He was wet, cold, defenseless, surrounded by guards, had several exposed wires that weren't making life any easier, missing his dog, and all around ticked off at seeing Blues' all too happy face. The ebony robot was handcuffed with trianium-whasit alloy (he'd never taken the time to remember the correct name), so he couldn't even have the satisfaction of punching in the infuriating pair of shades. Then again, even without the annoying restraints, there were several plasma cannons aimed at his head. Peachy, ain't it?
"Now Blues…" admonished the good doctor, being too preoccupied to do much else. Adjusting his glasses, Dr. Light went back to staring down his nose at the pile of papers in front of him. Schematics and blueprints were spread all over the table, with a team of scientist bringing in more every five minutes.
All of the happy fun pages were result of the multiple scans being done every minute, and whatever information they could get on how Wily's creation ticked from other sources. The point of all this info was to find the right settings for attaching the 'Extractor' as the machine was coming to be called. Blues and Rock had been sent to get the huge computer system and it had taken both of them to life it up the long stair case leading to the lab. Scan after scan had been performed, the results being downloaded into the Extractor's systems. Every now and then Dr. Light would narrate something he was fiddling with to his colleagues. Roll frowned, what was this-an interrogation or a lecture?
"Dr. Light, I believe I've found something that would interest you," called one of the mousy scientists, holding the latest of the computer printouts. Roll strained her neck to see what it was, but all she caught was a glimpse of the word 'power core' and a bunch of techno babble that she couldn't make heads or tails of. Sure she was smart, and had a basic knowledge of robotics, but the dribbling and dry mysteries of science didn't particularly interest her. There wasn't anything mysterious or profound about causing a significant decline in the dustbunny population and pounding her brothers into wiping their feet on the doorstep.
But even if Roll couldn't' care less what Bass's power system thingy was, Dr. Light did. And if Bass himself hadn't interfered, it would be the cover of next month's 'Science Weekly'. But before we get ahead of ourselves, and I mean a few days ahead, back to the matter at hand.
"Well…I never thought Albert was that innovative…" Dr. Light looked up from the pages at Bass, who was currently arguing with Rock while trying to avoid getting another scan. If Wily had been able to design an AI coding like that, then he might be more of a threat than the old doctor had ever imagined. Then again, there was always the chance that Bass had been an accident. Wily didn't seem the type to want a fighting robot with a whole lot of personality.
Blues grinned from his place in the corner of the room. Bass and his brother were shouting across the room now, and the lab assistants were frantically trying to keep the two biodroid's under control, without much success.
"Peachy," sighed Roll, sitting on one of the more plush chairs. After a while the fight had turned particularly nasty with Bass throwing in several more colorful words every sentence. Turning her gaze from the two arch rivals, she stared at where Dr. Light was having the greatest time since the day he invented Rush. Elbow deep in papers and pen ink dotting his trademark coat, he was having a particularly animated conversation with one of his fellow pursuers of knowledge-a young scientist by the name of Dr. Kalm. One phrase in particular caught her attention-
"-bring back to my Lab for further study."
Bring what back?
"Dr. Light, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Of course! I wouldn't pass up a chance like this. Besides, without his armor and weapons, he's as harmless as a kitten."
A loud crash echoed across the room as Bass delivered a kick to Rock's stomach, sending the smaller boy flying into wall.
"Well, almost…"
The younger scientist frowned, "Doctor, I can't help but question your sanity…"
"John, you have nothing to worry about, Rock and Blues can-"
A blaster shot echoed across the room, quickly followed by a satisfying sizzle and crunch as Bass hit the floor.
"BLUES!"
"Well, excuse me for saving you're sorry rear!"
"You didn't have to shoot him. He doesn't have any armor!"
"And your point?"
"Rock, Blues! Stop that this instant!" Dr. Light stormed across the room angrily, followed by Roll.
Dr. John Kalm frowned. He had been studying under Dr. Light for several years now at the main LightTech lab, and knew the doctor better than anyone. Well, except maybe the three robots that the doctor lived with. And he knew that this would be a bad idea. Bass was by no means 'defenseless'-who knew what kind of stuff was hidden away in his twisted gears…But even then, Rock and Blues shouldn't have any problem.
Kalm had long suspected exactly who Megaman was, and, though had never really met Rock, Roll, and Blues himself, had a pretty good idea of the trio's personalities, traits, design, and roles.
Bass on the other hand, well, Kalm knew that robot on a lot more personal basis. But he liked to keep that messy incident under wraps. At least Dr. Wily's greatest creation (to date) hadn't recognized him. That would have lead to certain…problems. A screech echoed around the room, dragging Kalm down from cloud nine faster than Rock and Blues running to the door to drop their boots in the face of an angry Roll.
"AYEEEEEE!"
Roll had gotten too close to the fallen robot, and one of the loose wires had given her a nasty shock. Now she was jumping up holding her burnt hand and shouting obscenities that very few people thought she knew.
Kalm sighed. Some days just weren't worth waking up for.
***
"You know…I kinda like this helmet. Whaddaya think, Rock?"
The blue bomber sighed, sinking lower into his chair, "I think you should stop messing around with Bass' armor."
Roll pouted, "Oh, you're no fun. In case you haven't noticed, most normal people like trying on new clothes."
"Normal girls. And this is just plain ridiculous."
The fight continued, with Roll swimming in the oversized armor, the helmet falling in front of her eyes every now and then. Anyone who came across the scene would have thought twice about ever going near Dr. Light's lab again, that was for sure. Roll had tried on the obsidian armor for the hey of it, and was now modeling for her two brothers.
"Well, I like it and I think I just might keep it! Maybe if I trimmed it a bit and redid the boots-"
Rock rolled on the ground laughing, "Like that'll ever happen! Bass would kill you, with or without a buster," his voice took on a slightly more serious tone, "Besides, no sister of mine is going to tramp around wearing my arch-rivals clothes."
"I could give'em a new paint job. At least this way I'd get a buster."
"Reason number three," pointed out Rock, "you and arm cannons don't mix."
Roll sighed, "I guess your right. Besides, Dr. Light wouldn't let me have the stuff anyway. Not in a million years. I better go change before he gets back upstairs…"
"You do that."
The blonde maid trudged her way up the stairs to her room, dragging the too big boots with her. A loud clang echoed through the house quickly followed by a curse and then a feminine voice shouting, "I'm okay!"
Blues turned and walked into the kitchen, as silently as he had come. He didn't mind the armor that much, maybe if she painted it and gave it a few different touches. Besides, if he and Rock got busters, why not Roll too? What would happen if Wily attacked the Lab directly-how would she defend herself? And despite the fact that it was about a zillion sizes too big, she didn't look half bad in it.
Grabbing some soda out of the fridge, he made his way outside to the front porch, whistling all the way. But the notes faltered every now and then. Blues mind was somewhere else. Namely in the sub basement on a table by some computers and wiring where Bass was snoring away, the Doc fiddling with what made the poor loser tick. He knew that bringing the robot back to the lab had been a bad idea. But of course, it would be against the laws of physics for anyone to listen to him. Law of physics, fate, and just plain life in general.
Faint strains of conversation reached his ears, and after glancing around for a minute, he found the source to be coming from the basement window. You know the type, small, next to the ground, and one BIG pain to clean. Glancing around quickly, he flopped down on the chair nearest to the window and cocked his head. To a passerby, he looked sound asleep, one of the many perks of the Bono Raybans.
"Amazing…simply amazing."
There was a long pause.
"Computer, examine subroutine."
The digital female voice responded, in its usual dead-pan monotone, "Data processessing. Memory downloaded."
He's downloading Bass' memory?
"Check for relevant data for…Rock."
"Data processing."
Blues heard Dr. Light gasp, "IT WORKS!"
There was a pause, the doctor muttering something or other to himself every now and then.
"Save to disk."
"Saving…please wait."
"Hmm…this is working out better than expected. I might just be able to use this information for the expo…"
What expo?
"Search for all data on Blues!"
And so it went on, file after file filled with the ebony robot's thoughts. Fighting techniques, Dr. Wily's plans, everything that Dr. Light could think of…
"Well, um, all data on Beat."
"Data processing."
"All data on Roll."
"File corrupt. Unable to download."
"WHAT?!"
"Subroutine blocked. Information unstable, engaging automatic shutdown."
There was a sound of frantic button pushing, but overall, it looked like Bass had won out. And the reason why was soon revealed.
"OUCH! Holy smack what the bloody heck is going on here?! What're you doing with that?! What's that? Why is that freaking wire freaking connected to my freaking wrist!? What are tryin' to do? Download me? Not on MY watch. Don't you even think you're gonna shut me down! What didja do with Treble!? If you even think about-HEY! Where's my fraggin armor? I want my junk back! What're you trying to pull you flaming crazy loon? AND-"
The Bass had awoken. And he wasn't just peachy keen with Dr. Light's plans. Far from it in fact…yep, Blues decided, this was going to be one interesting argument. Or it would have been had Dr. Light not promptly shut down the troublesome robot for the second time that day. Blues decided that he didn't want to hear anymore, and trudged back inside the shady home, thinking important thoughts to himself, questioning life in general, pondering the cosmos and eventually coming to pause on one burning question-
"I wonder what would happen if I told him Roll had been wearing his armor?"
***
Roll put away the last of the dishes, but unlike very other night when the family would disperse to their own activities, the group was still sitting around the table, each in a varying degree of shock and their 'father's' latest announcement.
"So."
"So."
Rock just stared, not saying a word. Roll decided to ask The Question™ that was on all their minds.
"He's staying here? For a week?"
"Right," answered Dr. Light, frowning slightly.
Roll burst out laughing, "That's a good one, Doc! Bass, stay here for a week! HAHAHAHaHaHahaha..ha…ha…um…you're serious aren't you."
Dr. Light nodded gravely, "Yes, I firmly believe the Lab is the safest place to keep Bass until the Robotics Expo. He will be under the close supervision of both Megaman," he gave Rock a pointed look, "and Protoman."
The Scarfed Wonder shrugged, "Sure, why not? S'not like I have anything better to do."
Rock just stared, mouth agape, "If you're going to deactivate him, why are you waiting until the expo?"
"Because certain, complications have arisen and I feel that I need to speak to some of my colleagues about it. And I'll need Wily's robot alive and well by that time."
"Complications?" Roll asked, confused as all get out, "Like what?"
"You wouldn't understand. It's just some interesting discoveries made about his construction and, er, intelligence that are bothering me and I feel that a second opinion would be a good thing."
"And I just saw a flying Spork Queen jump from my spoon and do the hula to the tune of Kryptonite," frowned Blues skeptically, "And dancing at all to a Three Doors Down song is impossible on it's own. What don't you want to tell us?"
The Doc didn't answer though, instead he stared at his shoes and twiddled his thumbs, "Ask me later, Blues. I need to talk to you anyway."
Blues backed up, "If this is about the whole 'issue', then no, I don't-"
"No, it's nothing like that."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Alright then."
Roll glanced at her oldest brother, then at Rock. Lately, Dr. Light had been trying to talk to Blues about something, though the two of them had never been clued in as to what it was. Dr. Light labeled it a 'confidential' matter. And the death glares that were handed out by Blues every time they asked him were a bit discouraging.
Rock shook his head, "Sooo, we don't have a say in this do we?"
"Not really, my mind is already made up."
The Light family turned to the blue bomber, dreading his reaction like vampires dread the sunlight, and he didn't make them wait long, "In that case, we'd better get back to that Starcraft game!"
Blues started backing up, "Oh, that just reminded me, I've got some reading to do and-"
Rock grabbed him by the arm, "Oh yeah right, you're just sore cause I'm kicking your sorry white-"
Dr. Light coughed.
"…rear."
And so ended another fabulous day in the Light household. Elsewhere though, a certain large violet dog was wide-awake. Wide awake and searching for his master…
***
Yippie! It's time for a message from your omniscient author!
The whole theme so far (if the prologue is anything to go by) how history was changed. Now, you have to understand that just because of one little event in that whole narrative was out of place, the future changed. Yep, cause time is just one biiiig thing-a-ma-bob, and when something in the chain gets out of line, the whole freaky thing gets out of line. The fabric of time is a delicate thing, and like a pair of bad panty hose, a single tear can cause a BIG™ problem…
***
Far in the future, sometime in 21fricken-frackenXX…
"LET ME OUT!!! I NEVER DID ANYTHING!"
X banged on the cell door, hurling insults like mad at the retreating prison guard, a habit he had picked up from the late Zero Omega. An audible 'clang' ended his quest for justice as the jailer's door closed. Several other inmates looked up at the newcomer, but most ignored him, going on with their business. After all, in the Neo Arcadia Facilities, one new reploid wasn't anything to write home to mother about, and without his trademark helmet and armor, X wasn't the most recognizable person in the world.
Reason took over the pacifist once again, and X gave up and shuffled over to one of the cots and sat down. After years of service to the humans, saving them countless times from the evils of Sigma, even giving up on bringing back Zero for the fear of infecting more robots with the Crimson Hunter's virus, this was the thanks he got. He and every other reploid on the planet.
Sure, a few had escaped Neo Arcadia's grasp, but that number grew smaller every day…sixty years ago they had started their campaign, only a few years after Zero had locked himself away, and now the reploids had dwindled down into the hundreds. X's kind filled NA's holding facilities, and executions were held daily to empty space…Dr. Cain had mentioned a story that sounded a lot like this, but X had long since forgotten the name. Something about the French Revolution and a lady named Guillotine. X was old, even if his gears were in perfect working order, thanks to the care of Dr. Light almost two centuries ago.
Tired, he stared up at the cracked ceiling wondering if this was what Dr. Light had imagined for his utopian future. His musings were cut short though, by a rustling on the other side of the cell. Old Hunter's instincts caused X to raise his gun arm automatically, even if the cannon had long since been dismantled.
"Who's there?"
The answer came in a raspy worn out voice, "Me."
X narrowed his eyes, "And who's that?"
A dirty boot, trimmed by tarnished gold and a cracked, red ankle piece was all that could be seen in the shadowy corner. The rest of figure was hidden by darkness and what might have been a coat, but years of dirt, grime, and hard living had reduced it to rags, "We've been through this, buddy o' pal, it's me."
"Do you have a name?"
"Yep, course I do, what do you take me for?"
"Well, then what is it?"
"Oh, now I'm just gonna up and tell some weirdo my name without a good reason. Yeah, that's smart, Genius."
X took a deep breath, "Okay then, how about an different question?"
"Fine by me."
"How did they catch you?"
X regretted the question as soon as the not-so carefully chosen words left his mouth. Great going X, why not ask what happened to his voice while your at it, he mentally ranted. Much to his surprise, the mystery thing replied.
"Me?" laughed the silhouette, a sound that resembled the warm-up session of the sandpaper orchestra. "Oh, they didn't catch me…"
"Huh?"
"You're curious aren't you? Well, you know what they say, curiosity salted the slug…or was it a snail?"
"Don't you mean cat?"
"Nooo…I'm pretty sure it was a snail."
This is one weird place, thought X, one strange and screwy place…