Carpe Deim
2073, forty years after the last battle of Megaman and Dr. Wily.
It is January. The cold, bitter air of winter grips the city of Tokyo, as a woman hurries down the sidewalks to her destination. She is tall, slim and fair skinned, her long blonde hair falling down her back in a loose ponytail, her red and black dress suit covered mostly by her black overcoat.
Her name is Elizabeth Light. In truth, her name is Roll, third creation of Dr. Light, her consciousness transferred from her teenage form before Dr. Light's death into a perpetually evolving, adult Reploid body, as per her wishes.
The general public knows this, but she prefers to not blurt it out. The wounds of the Wily wars have not all yet healed.
Tightening her overcoat, she walks through the revolving glass doors into one of the many skyscrapers of Tokyo, the tower designated for Cole Labs. Waving to one of the receptionists, she walks towards the central elevator of the three on the lobby's opposite wall, muttering greetings to the various comers and goers who know her.
"Fifty seventh floor, please," she says to the elevator's onboard computer, sliding off her overcoat and hanging it on her right arm, straightening the collar of her black buttoned shirt as the doors close.
If she had known she was being followed, the day might not have been as momentous as it was. If she had spotted the shades-wearing figure following her on the low rooftops, she would have recognized him despite the years since they last saw each other.
"Give me location," he says, turning from the Cole Labs building, his brown trench coat swirling like a cape.
"It's thirty feet below street level, one mile north. Hard to miss if you're in the sewer line."
On cue, a manhole cover on the street below pops open. Grinning to himself, he takes off his sunglasses, stowing them in a jacket pocket…
Before taking a running leap off the building, jackknifing his body into a swan dive as he descends fifteen stories and into the sewer entrance. Diving down the entrance tunnel, he grabs a pipe as the sewer floor approaches, breaking the pipe as it breaks his fall and somersaulting to the concrete walkway.
His padded black boots make no sound as they touch the ground, the man snapping back on his sunglasses and using the onboard computer to give him directions.
"North," he says, taking off in a sprint.
Running at forty mph, he soon found it. As his contact said, it wasn't hard to miss.
Blackened concrete soon gave way to pale blue metal, wires hanging from the ceiling and blinking computer monitors lining the walls.
"Why didn't we see this before?" he asks.
"I'm guessing because it wasn't ready, yet."
"Possibly."
He continues walking, looking about the hidden lab. He recognizes the lines of data as language, recognizes the diagnostic controls connected via wires to a central unit…
Which turns out to be a capsule, ten feet long by five feet wide, lying on a bed of wires and metal.
With a single, blinking green light at the head.
"Wait! There's an energy surge!"
He turns, looking towards the entrance…and sees the sewer beyond the lab flashing…and turning into the inside of a cave.
"Of course," he says, "This entire lab has a teleporter…can you hear me?"
"Yes. What happened?"
"I'll explain later. What's my location?"
"Checking…wait…you're in a cave system outside of Wales, Scotland!"
He nods, grunting as he walks towards the capsule. Pressing an almost invisible button under the light, a panel opens to reveal a keypad and small monitor, requesting a password.
"Rebecca," he says, and types in the word.
The light flashes green again, steam escaping the sides as it begins to open.
"Rebecca?"
"The wife we never knew he had."
The metal parts, revealing translucent green glass. And underneath it, there is revealed a young man, with wild, raven-black hair. His clothing, if it can be called that, is a dark blue bodysuit with solid blue armor at the chest, the lower legs and arms, flared round at the shoulders and with a belt around his waist.
With a start, he opens his eyes, the glass fading as if it was never there. Tentatively, the young man grips the sides of the capsule, sitting up, focusing his blue eyes on the first person he sees.
"Who are you?" he asks.
"My name is Blues," the man responds, closing his sunglasses and extending a hand to the newly awakened prototype, "It's good to finally meet you, Megaman X. I'm your older brother."
Strutting with confidence like an alpha-male Peacock, his knee-length blonde braid swaying, the young man strides down the hallway, lab coat over his denim shirt and slacks, glasses on the bridge of his nose.
Despite being active for forty years, the young man has the mentality and age of a person just over eighteen. The exact reason he dumped his entire memory two decades ago is a secret kept only by Roll and Dr. Sarah Cole, and by him as well.
But for Zero, Dr. Cole's assistant, protoreploid, and child prodigy, that is the furthest thing in his mind. Today, he's going to propose a project to his boss, and finally stand up to the tormentor he's had to deal with for the past five years.
At least, when he remembers to tie his shoe laces.
Lurching forward, flailing his arms wildly to the point where he almost flies, Zero falls face-first onto the mercifully carpeted hallway floor.
"Good morning, Wonderboy."
Raising his head, he looks up the stocking-covered legs of his tormentor. Short, no more than five and a third feet tall, with long black hair and green eyes. She grins, taking whatever satisfaction she can from his situation, squatting down to his level.
"Hello, Iris," he mumbles.
"Good morning, Zero," Iris Cole, protoreploid creation of Sarah Cole, says, "Having trouble?"
"None, thank you," Zero snarls, "If you will excuse me, Miss Cole, I have to see someone before I start my…"
"SARAH!"
Running at full sprint, tearing down the hall, Roll runs by them…
And skids to a stop, running back to them, her face covered in sweat and eyes wide with shock. She looks to Iris, then to Zero, pushing past the younger woman and hauling Zero to his feet.
"You," she says, "Don't. Move."
Pulling him aside, she continues running down the hallway, nearly falling as she turns the corner, screaming for Dr. Cole the entire time. Placing a cautious hand on his shoulder, Iris looks down the hallway her semi-friend had gone.
"What the Hell was that about?" she asks.
"No idea," Zero says, shaking his head, "No idea at all."
Five minutes earlier.
The day had begun, as Roll takes a sip from her ever-present water bottle, leafing through folders that Sarah Light-Cole, her immediate superior and best friend has left for her. The manila pile consists of proposals, financial estimates, and the occasional letter of recommendation from Dr. Lowgun down in Research and Development.
It is to the recommendations for projects that she goes to first. Having always been a science fiction buff, she takes in the information from their resident super-genius first, wrapping her brain around the sheer wonders their prize-catch has thought up.
Her intercom crackles, revealing the voice of her secretary, as a single light flashes on her phone.
"Ms. Light, there's a call for you on line 3."
"Thank you, Debbie. Is it visual?"
"Just audio."
Roll nods, turning to the phone and taking the cordless receiver from its charger, clicking it on the specific line and bringing it to her ear. She locks the phone between her head and shoulder, leaning on it to keep it in place as she begins half-reading through a proposal for transporter-gates.
"This is Miss Light. How can I help you?"
"Miss? I thought you'd be married by now, sis."
Dropping the folder, her eyes go wide at the instant recognition of the rough, cheerful voice on the other end of the line.
"Blues," she whispers, "Blues, is that you? Where are you?"
"In an apartment on 58th and Seventh in New York City. I need you to come down here."
"What's happened," she demands, her voice becoming more and more urgent as she talks, "Blues, what's happened? What's wrong?!"
"I'll give you a long version. Megaman X has activated, and I have him here in my apartment. On second thought, bring Dr. Light's daughter and Zero with you, to. I'll see you then."
Roll screams her brother's name into the phone, before hearing the click and the dial tone. Holding it cautiously, as if just staring at it again could connect her with her brother again, she quickly slams the phone back into its cradle.
And pushing out of her chair, she runs to the door, swinging it open and running past her bewildered secretary and down the hall.
Blues, known to the world at large as Protoman, hangs up the phone on its wall mount, turning back to the living room of the Manhattan apartment.
It is large, spacious, the living room itself the size of a two room apartment in cheaper parts of the city. The rug is freshly lain beneath his feet, the living room table in front of the white leather couch authentic oak. Music is in the air, coming from the wooden piano at the window corner, keys played by the figure, and owner of the apartment.
Tall, handsome, in a silk blue shirt and black jeans. Silver-black hair falling to the base of his neck, with two violet bangs falling on either side of the center part.
"So, how is she?" he asks, as he finishes a rendition of one of his original compositions.
"I didn't ask," Blues responds, as his host begins playing again, "She answers the phone as Miss Light, meaning at least she's not married."
The rendition ends with his fingers slamming clumsily into the keys.
"Now that's interesting," Blues says, "Or is that one of your new works?"
"Shut up, Blues," he growls, "Shouldn't you be checking on your baby brother?"
"I don't need to bottle-feed him, Bass. He's absorbing as much info as he can from your library. If he has any questions, he can ask me."
He scans the look on his friend's face. Of anticipation mixed with frustration and longing.
"It's true, then," he states, "Twelve years ago…"
"Stop it."
With a growl, Bass rises, walking from the piano and towards the door leading from the living room to the kitchen.
"At Dr. Light's grandson's Bar Mitzvah," Blues continues, "Am I right? Or have you two had…?"
"Incidents."
"Incidents since then?"
Bass pauses, his hand on the kitchen door. Looking down, looking away from Blues, he grits his teeth, biting his lip as he tries to think up a sharp retort…and fails.
"When they arrive, I hope you don't mind if I'm not here," he says, "I'm going to see if Treble wants to go for a walk."
He walks through the doorway, the tell-tale clicking and creaking from another door telling Blues that Bass has left the apartment, the sound of heavy footsteps next to him telling him that the dog, to, has left.
Leaving the prototype alone with the prototype. Sitting on the couch, folding together his fingers in front of him, he lets himself drift off into a meditative trance…
And does not act in the least bit surprised when a portal of swirling energy appears before him, and a man steps out.
A two winged, arrowhead-shaped jet lifts off from the nearest airport to Tokyo, flying over the Pacific Ocean as it accelerates past Mach 1 for the trans-ocean voyage.
It is called a Lockhawk, one of the joint projects that Sarah Cole, one of the passengers in the cabin, developed. In particular, this one was developed as a charter jet for herself, her husband, and the top brass of her company for when it is needed.
Sarah Cole has often been told she looks like her father. While that doesn't mean she's stout or has his beard, it means she has his eyes. Not just the hazel color, but the workings behind it, an ever-active intelligence that takes in everything they see, with ideas pumping into her brain concerning every detail.
While fifty years old, healthy living and other factors keep her looking years younger, keeping trim and fit to the point where some tell her that she looks like Roll's older sister. Mainly taken as a compliment, the sight of her 'sister' half sleeping, half passed out on one of the cabin's couches makes her wonder.
She watches as Zero drapes a blanket over Roll, walking over to one of the recliners on the opposite side of the cabin's main round low table.
"She's exhausted," Sarah says, "Do you know what we're doing?"
"I heard Blues called her, and told her to bring me and you to New York, Professor," her assistant responds, "She didn't say why."
"I imagine she didn't…she ran into you and Iris on the way to see me. How are things going between you two?"
The resulting silence is all the answer she needs.
"You know why I made Iris, right?" she asks.
"Yes…because…"
"Because it was too late for me to have any more children, and I wanted Bobby to have a sister. I know she gets on your nerves…"
"She goes…out of her way to…"
"To pester you. I know. But she is my creation, she's…my daughter. I guess that's how my father saw Roll, Blues, and Rock. And you."
"I wish I remembered," Zero says with a sigh, "Where you like that when you were her age? I mean, like Iris?"
"Of course I wasn't."
Sarah gives off a smile, chuckling.
"I was only like that to my husband."
Zero makes a sound between a groan and a whimper, holding his head in his hands.
"We're going to New York for a reason," Sarah says, her smile disappearing, "We're going to meet my father's last creation. And if I we have the time, I'm going to check up on my son. I hope I don't interrupt one of his classes but…I don't get to get out of Tokyo that often anymore."
"Well, I'm sure thing'll work out," Zero says with an optimistic smile, "After all…what could happen?"
"What could happen…" Sarah repeats, and sighs, "What could happen, indeed…"
The man is eight and a half feet tall, shoulders as broad as a normal car, his loose-hinged jaw hidden under the high collar of his trench coat.
He sits at a table with three others, all of whom know who and what he is, dealing cards to them as they begin placing their bets.
"So, what've you been doing this week?" one of the others, a dark-skinned, lanky asian man dressed in black asks.
"Oh, same old same old Shadow," he responds in a robotic voice, "Checking up on the Boss, setting up jobs. Heard Blues was in town, but hasn't looked me up so I don't think we have to worry."
"I wouldn't bet on that, Gutsman."
Gutsman turns, as do the others, to the open doorway of the smoke-filled bar. Standing, silhouetted in the doorway's light, is a man cloaked in shadows…with glowing violet eyes.
"Boss!" Gutman exclaims, "What'cha doing down here this time'a day?"
"Seeking you out," he responds, "I have a job for you, Gutsman. And it won't be pretty…"