Author's Notes:

This segment is a bit shorter, but I felt it was necessary to tell the story as in envisioned it.

- - -
Chapter 2:
So alike, and so different.


"What happened now?"

Once the red light cleared from the lab, Dr. Light looked at his two creations, one of which was looking quite hurt, the other of which wore an eternal smirk below his visor.

"Poor fool went shopping during the mid-day rush. A 300 pound woman crushed him for the last bag of chips." Although the words were completely joking, the tone was deadpan. The red bioroid recognized the problem, and helped Light put his brother on the repair table.

Light bent down to Rock's belt, and hit the reverse on the armor recall, causing the blue bomber's armor to vanish in another flash of light, this one blue.

With a sigh at the damage artificial skin, he took out tools. He began by cutting away the skin, and gently moving all damaged parts together. He connected wires, and held them together with a bit of industrial tape. He moved broken pieces of Rock's metal skeleton together, using a light glue that would dissolve in a few days to keep them together until Rock's body healed itself by converting his energy into matter.

As he hooked up the energy feed, he asked Blues a question without looking at him what had really happened.

"Bass showed up while Rock was having his off-day. Everything followed the normal pattern. I showed up in time to save him when one of Bass's Busters exploded."

"Huh. So, was this a planned attack by Wily?"

"It was Bass, by himself. I don't think Bass plans anything up until it happens."

"That's probably true. Although he did do a number on Rock."

The bioroid nodded at his creator. "Yeah. From what I could tell, Rock didn't have his
armor on for most of it, and was even so suicidal as to catch himself on fire to drag Bass down. It
worked, but . . ." Blues smirked as, the glowing green light of the energy being fed into Rock reflected off of his visor. "It wasn't actually the best idea since E-Tanks."

"Erm, yes, well." Light was preoccupied by studying Rock's body to make sure the healing was working, giving Blues time to readjust his scarf.

Blues began to turn and leave, his duty fulfilled, when a hand reached out to snag said scarf and tugged it, pulling him back.

"Leaving without visiting, big brother? Rock will be so disappointed when he wakes up."

"His loss." He yanked his scarf out of his sister's gripped, and turned to face Roll.

"So. The whole family's here. Except for the estranged cousins, Hip and Hop."

"Do you ever stop joking?" Roll cocked her head in a fairly human manner, grinning at her brother.

"Not if I can help it," he returned with an arrogant air. Light chose this moment to look up.

"Rock should be okay. He's healing normally, but it'll take a while before he's up to full strength. I hope he did enough damage to Bass to keep him down for a while, and that Wily is preoccupied with that enough to not send any Masters to cause mischief."

Blues shrugged, smirk turning wistful. "Guess I'm automatically appointed 'Defender of the World', huh?"

Light smiled, and began to head to the part of the lab where Rock's armor was kept when the blue bomber wasn't using it. The armor had taken a beating, and needed to be repaired as well.

Roll smirked. "You betcha."

Blues's martyrdom was in vein, actually.

- - -

"You failed. Again."

"Damn it yes, I failed again! That damn scarf wearing Blues stepped in, and took the killing blow!"

"Yes, yes. Always someone else's fault, isn't it? Proto Man's, Duo's, why, I bet you'll be blaming that housekeeper next!"

If Wily could have seen Bass's face at that moment, he would have realized he was pushing Bass a bit too far. The halfway repaired bioroid's face was contracted in anger, fangs digging into artificial lips, shooting pain into his mind, which caused him to bite harder.

One more insult, thought Bass, and I break his neck. He looked at Wily, standing over him, tinkering with tools, repairing the damage done by that accursed Rock. After he finishes repairing me, that is, Bass thought with a smirk.

Several minutes passed. Bass could feel his broken parts being moved together, in a process nearly exactly identical to what Light had done to Rock.

"All done. Suit up, and recharge"

Bass got off the worktable, rubbing his uncovered shoulders. He was naked, although he, being a robot, had nothing to be ashamed of. Ebony hair fell to his chin, but none showed anywhere else, creating an oddly inhuman look. Damaged skin had been replaced with new skin, fresh out of the package. The new skin stood out whiter than even Bass's pale skin, as it lacked any exposure to the elements.

Yes, the marvel of the mid 21st century. The artificial skin tanned.

Bass picked up the black belt lying on the floor, and buckled it on, hitting the armor recall. His armor, also freshly repaired, appeared around him, clothing him, supporting him. It was the only thing that ever did support him, the only thing that aided him.

He stretched his legs, feeling the power in them. He wanted to fight again. But, as he stretched, he felt something start to give. His loosely held together insides would come apart if he exerted himself too much.

"Damn it," he muttered, leaving Wily's lab and heading towards the place where they stored the energy surplus. Bass needed the energy to repair his damaged systems, and he couldn't lay around with an energy feed, resting and repairing. He needed to absorb as much energy as possible, immediately fall into the restive state that bioroids considered sleep.

Then, when he woke up in a few hours, he had to go back to his other duties. Bass was, disgustingly enough, a general in a much larger army. He had to help program, repair, and create new robots for further use. It was his rent, more or less. Acting as some lab aide.

He reached the depot, grabbing an E-Tank and absorbing it with a sigh followed by a muttered curse as the sweet and sour sensation of energy flowing into him.

His groggy mind started to wish for the sweet sensation of relaxation, and the feeling of belonging that must come from having a creator who would help you because he wanted to, would let you sit around long enough to get on his feet before starting his duties.

This lament was chased by another E-Tank, and another, and another, until he was to the point he could barely stand. It was too much energy. Not a steady stream that his body could process, but pushing his levels beyond what they should be, and trusting his body to balance it out in sleep. Quite frankly, it hurt.

He felt like he wanted to vomit, if he could. Do something to get all the excess energy out
of his system.

With a muttered curse that sounded a bit like a whimper, he stumbled off to find some dark corner he could curl up in and hide from this hell for a few hours.

- - -

And when he slept, he dreamed.

Horrifying dreams, nightmares, actually. Of his biggest mistake, when he let rage consume him.

He wanted power. Too much power. He had taken the devil's offer, and nearly had himself killed.

He dreamed of screaming in a small room, tearing at his face, being eaten from the inside, what part of him that was truly alive being killed.

He dreamed of a large figure, an angel, coming to save him, who least deserved to be saved, appearing and bending down. A large hand resting on his shoulder, where, moments ago, metal wings had sprouted from using the Treble Boost. Treble sat in a corner, gazing at its master in fear.

"I'm sorry," the dream figure said. "I can do nothing to remove the taint from someone who has chosen evil."

Bass's red eyes gazed upwards, fearfully, at the face of his would be savior. "Choose," he croaked, wanting to laugh. When had he had any choice? He had the goal, and the means to do it, and if he didn't. "Help," he murmured.

An even larger hand rested on his face, tearing away the awkward helmet to put a finger on his forehead. "You . . . have no soul."

No soul.

No soul.

Pain wracked his dream figure, as the evil was torn from him, leaving behind a sensation he thought he would never feel again. A sense of love, caring, something out there wanting the best for him, not seeing him as tool.

And when the pain died, his eyes truly opened.

- - -

Blues was having a really crappy night. Rock was still unconscious, and Light had to gone to sleep. Roll was in standby mode, recharging her energy.

And Blues was alone, standing there and staring up into the sky. Stars had held a new meaning for him sense the Star Droid episode, where Rock had traveled across the solar system to stop an invading army.

It wasn't like he did it alone. Blues had held off Terra on Earth, giving his brother time to collect the powers necessary for destroying the nearly invincible beings.

"Their armor," he thought, looking at his shield, which lay in his lap. "Impervious to all normal energies. Only their own can damage it. Their own, and physical strength." Hence the tentatively titled "Mega Arm", which Light had designed so that Rock could combat the invaders.

"Is it some type of Tritanium? Or, is it something else. And who designed them? Built them? It couldn't have been Wily." He looked at the stars, and realized they didn't have the answers.

With a smirk, staring at one star that was new, glowing blue. "Maybe Duo knows. Have to ask him, next time he's in the area." He leaned back, resting his eyes, but not sleeping.

"I wonder what he's up to."