MEGA MAN X: DEMONS OF THE PAST
By Erico
CHAPTER NINE: HUMBLE BEGINNINGS
"Soon, you shall awaken…this time, as a Maverick, and only aware of me."
Sigma wasn't the type of all powerful, undying Maverick Leader who relied too heavily on the advice of others. Nonetheless, his discussion with Kazok two days ago had found a deeply rooted chord in his mind…in that mess of sinister plots, shattered hopes, twisted dreams and what little was left of the original Sigma that had fought Zero more than 13 years ago was all thrown in together, so tightly compacted by his program size that there was no dividing it apart. As far as Sigma was concerned, it was all just one big discordant mess…a trail of psychosis he barely kept tabs on.
He didn't cry out for understanding or empathy…He knew he could never expect it from any of his foes or his Maverick Generals, most so brainwashed that little else crossed their minds but the three prime directives of the Maverick…Destroy, Infect, Survive.
But there were times he wished he could…that someone might understand what he was trying to do, someone who would stand ardently by him. In all his fevered thoughts, Sigma had managed to delude himself into thinking that his quest, his quest to end all human life and forge a new world with just reploids, all ruled by him…was not only the RIGHT path of events, but that it was the ONLY one.
What he still laughed about bitterly was that in a sense, that Repliforce fool Iris had wished for the same thing.
"All I wanted…was to live in a world just for reploids…with you…" And still, those haunting words echoed in Sigma's mind. That was part of what drove him on now. In a way, she understood part of what he did…
And if the circumstances had been different, she might have stood at his side, and not Zero's.
That constituted the basis of this experiment. While the Maverick Generals either practiced above ground or worked below in the marginally sized bases' other rooms, Sigma sat at the controls of his synthesizing capsule, the one he had been reborn from. With the glass and all too important fluid replaced, it once more was active, once more growing life.
As close to a womb as a reploid had yet, a new figure grew within the walls and liquid warmth, its outline slowly taking shape.
A day ago, it had been little more than a skeleton, a roughly strewn schematic of the interior.
But today, the beauty emerged…and although reploids had not the reproductive aspects of their human counterparts, they nonetheless had the sexual beauty…if their makers so chose.
Humans say that God made them in his own image…Sigma mused wryly. He unashamedly stared at the transfigured vixen within, her lips slightly parted, her long brown hair suspended in the water, and modestly, her body draped in a skintight black adornment that did nothing to hide the angelic form it had been designed implicitly to do…but then, beauty is not a thing easily hidden.
And humans make us 'humanoid' reploids in their image…
Yet, we stand as monoliths of beauty and unblemished perfection…
If it was the same way with their supposed God, then perhaps the phrase should be, "God made man in the image He wished He himself existed as" instead of that overused tripe.
She slept…but it would not be long now.
Sigma felt an air of weariness begin to fall over him. He had worked nonstop on her recreation from scratch…Almost from scratch.
He had given her mind that sense of naivete, that gentle and almost sickening innocence. The reason was simple enough to his cold, heartless mind. All it took was one intelligent enough to understand his motive for this.
Aside from that, she would awaken into the world as stunned, as open eyed as any reploid who awakes from the void for the first time.
"Great galaxies above…" Came a breathless statement of obvious surprise. Sigma's temper flared for the briefest of moments, but it ended itself, and whoever stood behind him, having intruded into his inner sanctum sanctorum was spared what had once been his customary response to even mild insubordination…a full fisted punch that sent anyone headfirst into a wall. As his rational self took over, Sigma questioned if he hadn't softened some over the years.
He turned about, none too surprised to see Kazok Gravor, the inquisitive, yet loyal commander of his new Maverick legion standing stiff still, looking onto the glowing capsule and its ethereal contents in awe.
"She…She's beautiful." Kazok finally uttered when he could speak again. Sigma cackled.
"Captivating, yes…but realize her beauty exists only to blind those she would fight…before she attacks them." The Maverick Leader turned back to his controls and sighed. "Yes, Kazok, this is the same reploid I told you about two days ago."
Kazok didn't answer, his eyes glazed as he was either unwilling or unable to tear his gaze from the epitome of feminine beauty. Sigma's back tensed up as he growled, "You keep staring like that, I'll rip your eyes out."
Kazok's gaze lowered, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He walked over next to Sigma and shrugged.
"So our conversation had an influence on you?"
"If one were to compare my decision to a weigh scale, all you added was a mere grain of rice to my tally." Sigma replied tonelessly. "I bring her to life now for many reasons…Your talks with me being a marginal one."
Chastised, Kazok shrugged to hide his disappointment and tapped on the side of his arm.
"Anyhow boss…"
"WHAT did you call me??!" Sigma exclaimed tersely. Kazok became unnerved, straightening his posture as he coughed.
"Anyhow, SIR…"
"Better, Maverick." Sigma muttered sourly.
"Dash Blade and I have noticed a flaw in my design."
"And that would be…"
"My Buster could use a few upgrades…right now, it's relatively weak."
"Just what exactly did I give you…" Sigma mused, only half focused on his subordinate.
"A variant of the Mark 18, sir." Kazok said back quickly. Sigma pursed his lips and shrugged.
"You should be able to find something to your liking, or something at least you could use to improve that deficiency over in the storage depot area." It was a suggestion, but Kazok also caught the razor thin undertone to it.
Sigma was telling him to leave…in so many icily toned words.
"Right. I'll see you later then." Kazok left the room and closed the door behind him, involuntarily shuddering as he did.
And once more, Sigma found himself plunged into a room of darkness, much like his existence…
But now, there was a pale green light that shone in it…a pale green glow that hovered about his new pet project like a hallowed aura.
Her eyes were still closed…dreaming a dreamless sleep, still waiting after all these years and hoping that her reality she had so dared to fathom might yet come to pass.
Sigma slowly walked up to the synthesizing chamber's clear wall, unconsciously raising a hand up to its cool glowing surface and gently rubbing the side.
His eyes, his always dead and morose eyes now shone a dim sheen…a spark of life within him that was deeper than any before.
"And yet, the angel sleeps…" Sigma whispered tonelessly.
Even her feet, no longer suspended in the cumbersome dash boots that were so commonplace to all reploids, glowed in that innocent light with their smallish, five toed glory. Her frame had never been one of much build or weight…a mere feather soft wisp of a thing. From head to toes, human…yet beyond human.
"Soon, Iris…" Sigma promised the slumbering maiden within. "Soon…"
Bristol awoke from her slumber, her mind suddenly flashing open in epiphany.
And all of it came from the stern, wizened face of Emilius Cristoph and his all too enchanting voice.
MI9 did not begin with that name, certainly not. It came about because of necessity, the need for a Red Herring. Understand that Great Britain did and still does have it's Mis…MI5, for instance, and that mythical MI6 James Bond worked for. MI9 is a misnomer of the greatest caliber, because it is in no way associated with Her Majesty's government…
"Gods above…" Bristol mumbled, trying to bring about that sudden subconscious flash of information from her dream to the realm of the waking world. Brushing her blond hair back, she cut herself away from the waking world for precious moments longer…pleading for her recollection to continue.
MI9 had its rather humble beginnings, I can assure all of you. The root of what would be MI9 was born in 2047, an assimilation of scientists, visionaries, and environmentalists all…In the aftermath of the troublesome wars of 2040, humanity was left with a very explicit path…reconstruction. Undoubtedly, you are familiar with Treeborgs? They came about during this time.
And yet as it continued, Bristol screamed inwardly.
The NAME, damnit…I NEED THE NAME!!! But Cristoph, a human she knew more by her faded and fogged memories than conscious recollection, spoke with a steady monotone, his speech definitive.
The Earth was in crisis…no eyebrows were raised when some of the greatest minds of their time gathered together for greater purpose. Oh, we had many…And it worked, for a time.
But remember, time always changes…some of that group's members chose to walk in a separate direction when the organization found itself heading down a path it could not have predicted at its foundation.
The time of that group's life was from 2047 to 2068. And its name, if you couldn't remember it already…
Bristol clamped her hands over her ears, feverishly shutting out every stimulus…every thought except for the hazy memory brought forth by dreaming, and the need for it.
…Was the Second Rainbow.
Bristol lowered her trembling hands…
And the answer was that simple. She had been trying to find MI9 by its present…and that had come to no avail.
What she needed to do was travel back into its past…
Epiphany. She unsteadily picked herself up, shaking her head in disbelief, and tears suddenly springing to her face.
Progress had been slim to none…and like a lighthouse that shone in the worst of the fog, the answer had come in the darkest hour.
She looked about the cheap motel room, then nodded calmly with a relieved smile through her blurry optics.
"Finally…" She managed to choke out. Gray spirits had fallen on her…but at last, they were ended.
Making sure her motel room door was locked, she stared at the alarm clock beside her bed. Strangely, the motel room had changed little over the years, from what little research she'd managed.
Only 7:00 A.M. local time...yes, it was time indeed for a new coming.
But first…
She walked into the bathroom and started up the shower, thankful that hot water was also still a part of the bargain. Shifting out of her clothes and storing them in her Warp Generator's memory, she gingerly stepped inside the tub and focused the spray on herself.
No matter what humans thought, reploids still got dirty, and required cleaning from time to time. But few reploid models nowadays had an entire synthskin underneath their armor and synthfabric garments. Bristol did…and she knew Bastion had one as well. Others, she wasn't sure about, and she didn't intend to discover. For Bristol, the shower was more symbolic than medical…a tiny reminder that she was not the mindless mass of metal so many humans considered reploids to be.
Strangely, she found herself humming a tune as she reached for the bottle of shampoo provided for her. She cracked a smile when she realized what it was…
"Rule Brittania."
For no particular reason, Pharaoh Man had wandered down to the innermost section of the Fourth Ring. Walking with quiet solemnity, he had approached it for no other reason than in these days of unanswered questions and doubts, he needed to find some solace.
In some respects, his action in that turn was more human than he could have ever predicted. Humans also had a tendency to flake out, to seek something concrete and definitive in times of strain.
Cossack remained as bedridden as ever…Kalinka somehow found the energy to run a tour again, with the help of Bright Man and Toad Man. The other five Robot Masters were scattered around the sections of the Citadel not on the tour, performing various maintenance duties.
Pulling his facemask back, he switched on the lights in the decently sized room…space constraints were of little consequence underneath the ground in the Siberian wasteland, uncolonized and unused since the fall of Communism.
Reverently, he approached the always inactive and battle torn body of Mega Man…kept here in what could be considered his mausoleum, resting on a good sized slab of polished marble.
Pharaoh Man remembered the day that the grief stricken Light had brought the forever shattered Blue Bomber to Cossack's Citadel…Light, wizened and far past his prime…Cossack, still young and vibrant with his light brown hair…but the look of sorrow they shared had been one and the same. Even Kalinka, who had just reached eighteen, had been somber.
"I could do nothing for him…the damage to his systems was far too extensive. My…My son will never again be there for the world." Light had spoken, barely able to choke out the words. And Cossack's reply had been as somber as well.
"If only we'd had more time…If I had known what Wily was planning, I would have sent Pharaoh Man and the others to aid you…" Pharaoh Man turned away from Mega Man's body, forever preserved, never decaying, and looked around the room.
Shadows of the past still flickered in his memory…there had stood Kalinka, fully dressed in black, the color of human mourning. Light and Cossack…well, they had been where X's 'information' capsule now lay.
"Wily will never again plan anything. When Bass arrived to warn us, he was in tears…that demon creation of Wily had risen up and destroyed its master in its first act of life." Light's voice had been bitter, it had been angry, it had been defeated…
The grandfatherly figure of Thomas Xavier Light, or Right as it was sometimes mispronounced in Japan, had seen his two sons, his one daughter…his entire family destroyed at the hands of a robot that went beyond robot…It had changed him to a mere shadow of the person he once was.
"And what of the demon?" Cossack queried. Light had to compose himself for a moment before he continued, and even then his voice was quivering.
"Duo…him and Auto were the only ones to survive the fight. Duo had a sudden flash of foresight. He prevented Auto from administering the final blow in the full fury of his rage. 'This one's future...' he said in that damnable grave tone, 'Is intertwined with that of Mega Man X.' He'd turned to me then, full of disbelief…"
"MEGA MAN X??" Cossack had sputtered in disbelief. Light had cowered then.
"Yes…I have a feeling that Wily's demon was created for the simple reason to act as a counterpoint to Mega Man X."
"But how did…"
"Wily make such a thing?? Bass had stolen the plans from my lab back during the Seventh Robot Rebellion…Not only plans for Rush's new enhancements, but the preliminary design schematics to X."
"What is so special about this X?"
"He is more than a robot, Sergei…" Light had continued wearily. "Mega Man was more than a robot…And X is more than Mega Man. In all respects, he is a human made out of metal. Upon awakening, he will be little more than a newborn…his attitude, outlook and demeanor completely dependent on the experiences he gains."
"My God…" Cossack had gaped then. "You mean to say…"
The silence between the two scientists had been deafening, interrupted only by Kalinka's soft cries.
The world did not cry. The world did not know.
Wily merely faded from public view…so did Mega Man.
"I must bury one son…but I must ensure the life of another." Light had mumbled through his emotional fatigue. "I ask of you to keep Mega Man's body here…"
"What about Roll and Bass and Protoman?"
"There was nothing of them to bury." Light had snapped through a cracked voice. Pharaoh Man, even in his limited state of sentience back then, had understood Light's sudden outburst that left him on the verge of tears.
They had been blown or hacked to pieces…if not worse.
"Wily's demon has been taken back to my nemesis's final base…and buried in the capsule he was spawned from. Duo did it…he told me that upon the demon's placement, the capsule activated of its own will to restore it. Years…more than thirty years for all his damage to be repaired, and he awakes once more."
"And what will you do now?"
"The only thing I can, Sergei. Duo told me that in the coming age, Wily's demon would not be the true threat…And now, it seems that the son I created to live in peace must now have the function of war."
The ceremony had been short…the implications of it, and the implications of the future had taken far more time.
It marked the end of an era for them…the age of Mega Man had come and gone, and in the end, it had not been Wily who had taken Mega Man's life, but that of his last Hellspawn.
"Sergei…you are the only link that I have now. And I have something more to ask of you."
"Name it." The Russian roboticist had uttered.
"I cannot help but fear that X might very well undergo the same change as Wily's creation did…more research must be done of course, but…" Light shook his head. "It boils down to the fact that I am going to run scans on Mega Man X for a similar period of time that Wily's own creation is frozen at. I must prevent even the slightest chance of that same occurrence." Cossack hadn't spoken, waiting for Light to continue…and he had.
"But when X emerges…I will be dead, Cossack. I am not as young as I was, and my sole surviving son will face a world without my guidance. To that end, I ask that you guard an object for me…guard it until Mega Man X comes looking for it."
"Why would he come here??" Cossack had muttered. Light's eyes twinkled with saddening knowledge.
"Because he will want the answers…And because you were an associate of mine, he shall come, suspecting there is something here to be found. That will be what I send you…a capsule much like the one I shall keep X entombed in. It shall contain all the answers he will have ever wanted to know…about how I designed him, how I built him…what his brother did…it shall be a living holographic diary, inscribed by me for his use."
And Pharaoh Man had heard all that. That had been in 2085…
In 2087…October 2087, to be more precise, Old Tokyo was hammered by the fiery eruption of Mount Fuji…Light's lab and almost all of the city was lost…a moratorium was placed over the area…
And then 30 years later, in 2117, the archaeologist and minor roboticist James Cain had rediscovered Light's lab…and Mega Man X.
Pharaoh Man blinked his eyes, turning his gaze towards Mega Man.
A feeling of sorrow, if it was such a thing, fell over him.
"Remembering the past?" Came a muted voice from afar. Pharaoh Man turned about, then nodded as he relaxed.
"It is a powerful thing…more powerful than some would like to consider it. I am of the past…yet here I am, in the future." Pharaoh Man shook his head. "I suppose you know Cossack deteriorates further in his health?"
X gave a grim nod, looking towards his brother on the altar.
It was Mega Man's helmet that X wore…the symbol passed down from one generation to the next.
"The next question to ask of you would be, why are you here, and not back at Maverick Hunter HQ?" Pharaoh Man continued. X walked next to the Robot Master and glumly shrugged his shoulders.
"For one, I owed Mega a visit…and two, there's a problem that's occurred with my armor sets. I was hoping that Light's information capsule would hold the answers I need."
"Is it serious?" Pharaoh Man asked, his voice lilting to concern. X bobbed his head.
"Without my armor sets, I'm a less effective Hunter…in most cases, that is what gives me the narrowest of edges to win."
"So you need them, and there's something wrong with them." Pharaoh Man turned to the capsule. "Well, if the answers are in there, good luck finding them. I've tried time and time again to get it to respond, but…"
Pharaoh Man shut himself up as X took a few quiet steps towards the gift of knowledge his father had left him.
The energy wall of the capsule, bathed in blue, descended and disappeared, once more revealing the form of Doctor Light as he was late in his life…tired, wizened, and defeated…yet hopeful.
"Mega Man X…" Light rasped. "This marks the second time you have come to the capsule I sent to Sergei Cossack's Citadel for safekeeping. Thus, I can only surmise that the questions you seek answers for were not revealed in my first message."
A keyboard slid out of one side of the capsule, and Light smiled gently.
"By all means…ask, my son."
Pharaoh Man whistled as X went to the side and began to type in his first query.
"How did you do that?"
"The capsules were built for me…and the capsules react only to me." X shrugged. "Undoubtedly, it's some sort of security measure my dad designed…but we can ask him about it."
"What else can we ask him?" Pharaoh Man queried. X's face fringed on joy and sadness.
"Whatever he knows about."
Wycost was once more back in his home element…he knew the city of New York backwards and forwards. Every alley, every street, every nook and cranny…and most importantly, every doughnut shop…was embedded in his mind.
Of course, considering he had been a member of New York's SWAT, or more correctly, MSWAT(Maverick SWAT) team from 2118 to 2130, that almost went without saying. 12 years of experience could do a lot for a person.
One of the things he knew how to do very well was look for someone. However, Bristol was proving a very missing person…the back of Wycost's mind mused that perhaps she had vanished off to some other place on the world, and left him here without the damndest clue as to where to head next.
He did, however, have someone else he was trailing aside from Bristol…a worrisome presence at best.
His eyes dragged themselves across the street…
"Hell." Yeah, she was still there. Green eyes, red flaring hair, Irish accent…
This marked the third time now he had seen the mysterious Willow wandering about in the same places as himself…and Bristol. Twice made it a coincidence…but three times now bored deep into his gut that it was more than that.
Wycost had been trailing Willow for the last forty minutes, after he'd spotted her by Central Park. In a crowd of this many people, she wasn't all that likely to try something.
And enough was enough.
Wycost deftly made his way through the crowd, at last pulling himself three feet behind Willow in the droning masses.
Wycost's hand was only six inches from her arm before she spoke up.
"Don't do it, Wycost." The Bronx Bomber tensed up in surprise. Willow chuckled softly, and a few heads in the gaggle of humans surrounding them turned their heads. "What, ye didnae think I noticed you already? I know ye've been following me."
Willow calmly eased herself away from the busy street and turned into an alleyway. Wycost followed, his eyes tense behind his sunglare glasses.
Willow turned and faced him, her eyes cold and immovable, one hand to her hip, staring defiantly at him. Wycost returned as much of the intimidation as he could.
Two reploids, hidden in the disguise of street clothes…
"Just what are you doing here?" Wycost growled. Willow looked at him with contempt.
"Sightseeing, perhaps?" The Bronx Bomber tensed up.
Everything about Willow's stance betrayed an air of confidence, of cold purpose…of immutable strength and skill. Wycost's own spoke the same, yet neither backed down.
"I have my doubts about you, Willow." Wycost stated flatly. Willow nodded.
"As I do of you too, boyo."
"If you are an enemy, I will not allow you to continue whatever it is you plan to do."
"I plan to have a discussion with my friend…if I can find her." Willow shot back testily. "I donnae know what it is you hope to do."
Wycost felt threatened by Willow's words…But the situation kept him unharmed by the fear.
He pointed a finger at her. "Let's just hope we don't cross paths again. Because if we do, then I'll know it's more than coincidence, and you and I are trailing the same person."
"Oh, and just what would come about at a future meeting?" Willow mouthed darkly. Wycost adjusted his leather jacket, then turned about and walked away.
Only his quiet air of ability spoke for him.
Willow harrumphed and turned in the opposite direction, jumping up the side of the alleyway's building and standing on its rooftop.
Wycost walked in, blending and finally vanishing into the crowd.
Willow's green eyes burned hotly as she watched him go. Wycost's stance, his own attitudes also spoke of talent in battle…But such a time would come.
Wycost couldn't understand what she hoped to accomplish…Hell, she didn't know what he was trying to do either.
But the both of them were immeasurably intertwined with Bristol's fate…
"Some day…" Willow breathed. "Some day, you fools will realize that some pasts are best left forgotten."
"We are the Second Rainbow…" Rasped Ezriah Hyrmue, famed Treeborg nanoroboticist. "We were brought together because we sought to turn our barren planet back into what it was before…Before the Fall."
The meeting was taking place in the Second Rainbow's headquarters, in the pristine environment of Alaska during the temperate summertime months. The year was 2067, during the new era.
The 'Fall' as it was known, was a culmination of mankind's energy resources at last drying up. The oil left by the decay of the dinosaurs had reached such a low point that prices were beyond outrageous…
And that led to war…the struggle for resources. Mankind was nothing, if not predictable…
And for the first time, nuclear weapons had been put to general use…
The cities survived, off-limits by mankind's cautious waves…but what existed in the aftermath were vast swaths of land that were uninhabitable, where armies had once stood.
By necessity, the Second Rainbow had come into being. In the overwhelming crisis that followed mankind's deadliest inner conflict, it had finally realized the danger it brought to itself, and the Earth that had sustained them for millions of years.
The Second Rainbow was the team responsible for the recovery of Earth…Scientists of all breeds, creeds, races…nothing that distinct mattered anymore. All that did was that the Earth was poisoned and beaten…and it needed to be saved.
The advent of Treeborgs, of revolutionary anti-radiation treatments comparable to the oil spill cleanup technologies of years past had come into being. Nuclear power now found its ultimate role, as fusion was perfected…no longer would humanity need the squandered fossil fuels of its past. In an age where desperation led to necessity, things ran on fusion, on fission, and on solar.
It was technology, the technology of man combined with man's mind that gave them the tools to save their dying world, to create a penance for their sins.
But what happened today…Today, in 2067, was the downfall of the Second Rainbow…Called such because according to The Bible, God created a rainbow as his promise to man that he would not destroy them again after the trial known as "Noah's Ark".
The Second Rainbow…Mankind's Rainbow…was called such because in the aftermath of the Fall, humanity sobered itself from its drunken euphoria, a euphoria that had carried all through the 1900's and into the 21st Century that they were Gods…that technology made them impervious.
God never promised mankind with that First Rainbow that man could not destroy itself…that was a promise humanity made to itself. The Second Rainbow.
"Technology is what allowed us to save this world!" Thomas Xavier Light said forcefully.
"Technology is also what caused us to threaten it in the first place." Came the reply of Darwin Vinkus, the figurehead of the Second Rainbow's 'Anti-Tech' faction. "Technology has gone too far, Doctor Light."
"Scheisse, would you quit your overdramatic ramblings for one moment and listen to common sense?!!" Came the voice of Light's associate, Dr. Albert William Wily. His crazily unkempt gray hair danced about the bald spot of his head and he twitched his mustache in anger. "Technology is here, we live with it. We cannot take that away…not now. To do so would be to threaten humanity ITSELF!!"
A sobering thought from a sober man…a man who at that point in time, was not the same raving lunatic who was responsible for countless troubles that followed.
"Wily, once more you prove your short fuse." Vinkus growled. The gray haired roboticist, more skilled in the construction of robotic bodies than minds simmered in his seat. Light and Wily were the greatest team of their day…Light, a visionary whose revolutionary designs led to more and more advanced robots. There were even LightTech robots now that could understand commands in fifteen different languages, regardless of voice tone or quality…Wily the man who made the bodies of the ingenious robots.
"But my sources tell me that what you two have begun is the ultimate blasphemy…" Vinkus continued, pulling his spectacles off and rubbing them with a dry cloth before placing them back on his fat grubby nose. "From what little I know, it seems you two are building a robot…that is supposed to be a man."
The uproar at that was immense. The anti-tech faction shouting angrily for answers, the pro-techs like Hyrmue applauding loudly to show their support.
And caught in the middle, with a pained gaze was Doctor Light, and with his own immobile frown, Doctor Wily.
The dim finally settled back down, and Wily spoke up.
"So what if we are, Vinkus?" He challenged. "By now, you must realize that there are places on Earth that humans are ill suited for…If we were to design such a robot, with Asimov's Three Laws intact, yet with a far more intact mind than any robot ever before…what we would have is a robot that could work in the most unwieldly of conditions, commanding less sentient robots."
"What you propose…Is a Robot Master??" Vinkus whispered in frightened awe. It was not the term back then that it was now…back then, it held hope, and not the fear that would develop through the Robot Rebellions later on. "And how sentient…"
"Artificial intelligence is a hurdle that is the greatest yet to be faced…" Light continued, picking up for his associate. "What we hope to build is a robot who will have a personality, who will…"
"A HUMAN ROBOT?!!" Vinkus sputtered.
The uproar in the Second Rainbow's great meeting hall began anew…
Light buried his head in his hands, and Wily merely glared across the room to the damned 'Medievalists' who plagued their midst.
Neither of the two was willing to tell this conference that their experiment with the 'Robot Master' had already begun…
Protoman was fully active…full of quirks as well…But even the acknowledgement of his existence would have proven to be too great a furor for the conference.
As it was…The Second Rainbow's age had already ended…its death knell was tolling.
Bristol blinked herself away from the computer screen as it ended. Stretching her arms, she looked around herself. Here was New York's library…a grand facility, full of research and Fiction and Nonfiction and…
Bristol shook her head. The video file she'd checked out also came with a text attachment, a blurb added to the compiled series by a human historian. She selected it on her viewer and read.
The Second Rainbow faced its end on July 7th, 2067. By that point in time, its members had divided into two opposing factions: Those who emphasized that such advanced technologies were more of a danger to humanity and to the world than it was a help, and those who flatly stated technology was not the evil the other side claimed it to be.
In the age that we live in now, the age of reploids, it is important to quote Doctor Light: "Technology is not evil…Humanity only makes it evil." Although some will argue, it is a more commonly held belief that the original Mavericks, before the Maverick Virus came into being with Sigma, turned Maverick because like the generations of underpaid, underpriveleged immigrant labor before them, they longed for a better life and were denied even respect.
For better or worse, the guidance of the Second Rainbow was no more, as it dissolved out of existence. It could no longer function, but by that time, its primary reason for existence had ended. Thanks to their efforts, the world had been saved and restored from mankind's era of ignorance.
Doctor Light and Wily went on to complete their teleportation experiments…the end result being the loss of Protoman and Wily's subsequent transformation towards insanity as he continued to use personal warp devices, even though it's dangerous to a human's mind. After that came the advent of Mega Man, the introduction of the Robot Masters…
And as is brought to the public eye, time and time again, Wily's ultimate transformation to a madman bent on world domination, and Mega Man's transformation into the world's hero.
In 2070, the age of global reconstruction ended as Doctor Wily took the six prototype Robot Masters and tried to seize the world hostage…But Mega Man stood up, perhaps more intelligent than most give him credit for…and time after time, put a stop to Wily's plans, never once bringing harm to him.
Bristol stopped there…it went on for about two paragraphs more, but she had read all she needed to.
The Second Rainbow had been made of visionaries and scientists…
And once it had saved the Earth, it dissolved into the tech-lovers and haters.
The Second Rainbow was little more than a minor footnote in history, a crucial one to the survival of the planet, yet overlooked time and time again in favor of the heroic annals recorded of Mega Man and Mega Man X.
History was fickle…
But Bristol's resolve was firm once more.
Calmly, she removed the data disc from the reader and took them both back to the desk. The librarian accepted them perfunctorily, and turned about.
Which suited Bristol fine, she had more important things than small talk.
The next leg of her spirit walk seemed bound and destined to drag her to Alaska…To the home of the defunct Second Rainbow…which MI9 had risen from.
She calmly walked into the ladies' restroom and dialed into the GPS satellite system above Earth…
She downloaded a location into her Warp Generator and let it take over.
Another woman walked in just then…
She had quite a scare, watching a beam of pink and blue light blast out from one of the stalls and towards the stratosphere.
And Bristol's journey continued.
Mega Man X's question had been answered by Light's typical flair…
"If you are asking this, then you are undoubtedly puzzled, if not concerned as to why the armor sets I initially provided for you four times before are slowly beginning to fragment into useless data…degrading to a point where they will no longer be useful." His calm face stared into the nothingness, staring only at the camera that recorded his image for the years to come.
And X and Pharaoh Man could only stand back and wait, both finding themselves enchanted. Light's form doubled over for a moment as he crippled in pain, hacking violently before returning to normal, his eyes slightly dulled with pain, his stature lowered in defeat.
"X, it was my greatest hope for you that the world you would live in would be one of peace…without conflict. Four times before, the situation became so severe that your presence in it was unavoidable…and during those times, the capsules I created to grant you newfound abilities for your success…for your own life's preservation…responded. But the years pass…and after that Fourth horrifying conflict I cannot predict, yet merely prepare for, and HAVE prepared for…" Light's voice quivered as its artificial intelligence subroutines kicked in… "X, the armor sets degrade because your primary function was not that of a warrior. If the need is merited, yes, you can become a protector…but I did not build you for destruction, like Wily did with his demon. That is why they fail. If you feel that your current situation is turning sour, I can offer little more than my deepest regrets. It is a safeguard of the armors…So that if, by some odd chance, they were to fall into the wrong hands, or also so you would find some semblance of peace by your efforts, they would eventually become defunct of their own accord. That is your answer."
And once more, Light's holographic form shifted into its neutral pose, blankly staring out into the void of endless, unpredicted time…a ghost in the machine that was the only form of presence he could offer to his son.
Pharaoh Man turned up to X, blinking a few times before shaking his head.
"So it seems…That Light did not have the answers after all." The Blue Bomber of 21XX shook his head in dazed disappointment.
"If there was a way to stop the degradation, he does not mention it." He bowed his head. "But, it's commonplace enough right now, isn't it?" He laughed bitterly. "Everything is dying around me." Pharaoh Man gave him the briefest of smacks in his arm.
"I knew Mega Man." Pharaoh Man glowered. "And not once in his life did he EVER fall into defeatism like you dare to now. Sadness, rage, grief, those I can understand…but to GIVE UP HOPE ITSELF!!" His voice was terse and angry…and the Robot Master knew it. He embraced it. It was emotion…yet more of a transition to the state of mind that almost made him close to reploid standards.
X nodded briefly, still subdued. Pharaoh Man sighed and brought himself back to the console.
"Anything else you'd want to ask him?"
X lifted his head and rattled off a question that was more technical than philosophical. Pharaoh Man deftly typed it in, and Light's hologram flickered.
"Mega Man X, as your question indicates, you've long been puzzled over how my capsules arrive whenever and wherever they are needed most." Light's eyes twinkled and tapped on his forehead. "The answer lies here…in your mind."
"Your mind is the most sophisticated piece of artificial intelligence technology I have ever created…scientists years in the future will still be stunned and confused by your workings. There are the necessities to your existence…the various neural pathways and whatnot, the control chip, that supercompacted square of hardware that contains the very essence of what makes you 'you'. But alongside all those core components lies a peripheral I added just before I placed you in your diagnostics capsule…a tiny chip, so hardwired and interwoven with your brain that it is impossible to remove, almost impossible to locate. It is an all in one…Part transmitter, part scanner."
"Oh my God…" Pharaoh Man mumbled. X lifted a hand up to silence him, frozen to Light's long saved image.
"I needed a way to effectively interlink you with the capsules…To ensure that they would only activate in the direst of circumstances, and would only respond to YOU. That chip was the golden fleece of my entire experiment. It continually scans your mind…unobtrusively, I assure you. Only the most vivid of thought patterns are detected…Like the sensation of an upcoming conflict. Every time you have approached War, you have thought of it. That is what triggers the capsules to act…the chip transmitting the activation codes to your wondrous gifts from my grave. Location, intensity...all are known to that chip in your mind. When you approach one in close proximity, it responds to the strong beacon effect of that chip…activating as they always do, giving you my messages and my enhancements. It is that chip which allows the only gifts I can give you to function as smoothly as they do." Light paused for a moment, subtly returning to his posture of frozen form. Pharaoh Man lifted his head up to X.
"What else should we ask hi…"
"Even now, I laugh…" Light cackled, shaking his head. Pharaoh Man cut himself off and went back to X's side, staring at the noble hearted doctor as he looked back up with half a tear in his eye. "As a youth, I was an avid reader of what is called 'Science Fiction'. But there was an author by the name of Isaac Asimov in particular whose foresighted genius carried on into my age. When robots, real robots became a reality…so did the Three Rules of Robotics, laid out by Asimov. Science Fiction to science fact…every visionaries' dream." Light laughed again, and wiped at his face. "But what I ponder now as I record this message about your capsules, I cannot help but recall another series he wrote, aside that of his Robot Novels. His Foundation series, long considered by many critics and commonfolk alike to be some of the greatest fiction ever put to paper. Forget how it speaks of mankind's fall from civilization, how a Galactic Empire crumbles under its own weight of decadence…I think now of the founder of Foundation, of psychohistory, as Asimov called it…Hari Seldon."
Light now spoke with more than a defeated voice…new vigor found its way to him as his face lightened up in the irony of the moment. Even in the direst of circumstances, the presence of humor in humanity had always existed. And it was not his genius, or his recollections of X's design or his capsules that kept the new Blue Bomber and Pharaoh Man captivated…it was the revelations at last discovered by perhaps the greatest roboticist of reality ever.
"In the Foundation series, his Foundations, the centerpoints of knowledge and wisdom in the Galaxy's return to barbarism and Medieval degradation of technology, found themselves in crises at certain points in time, when the situation became so dire that the very organizations themselves lay only hairs away from destruction. And at every point, until the introduction of the Mule…no, no, DAMNIT…I'm sorry, I get off track…" Light put his head in his hands and groaned, shaking it.
"As I was saying, at every crisis, the late Hari Seldon had a final momento he had left to his people. Using his skills in psychohistory, the ability to predict the actions taken by the masses on accordance of an emotional basis, he was able to pinpoint exactly when the crises would occur…and the actions that would need to be taken at each point to PREVENT them from bringing ruin. That 'momento' left by Seldon, according to Asimov, was some sort of machine that opened up at Noon…and presented a holographic image of the late psychohistorian, with his words to guide them. Hari Seldon ensured the survival of his people, of his movement to prevent the Galaxy's return to barbarism, by leaving what can well now be called a capsule…
In that same fashion…I leave capsules for you. The gifts I give are not wisdom, instructions from beyond the grave. But nonetheless, the purpose is the same…whether it be information or armor, both Seldon and myself give the next generation the tools it needs to ensure their own survival…and that of the greater populace." Light shook his head.
"Science Fiction to science fact…" Light's voice grew calmer now, his revelation at last over with. "In my day, Science Fiction was so fast becoming science fact. We had gone to space…We had created weapons so powerful, they threatened the very planet…And we had created robots, a breed of children, who through Wily's insane machinations went berserk, just as some had fearfully cried years before. Now, in the final waning days of my life, I create capsules for use in the future to prevent catastrophe. I am reality's version of Hari Seldon."
Light looked older now, older than he had when he had begun the message that talked of X's capsules. Another revelation had dawned on him…and Thomas Xavier Light, in the time span between 2085 and 2087 had grown too weak and decrepit to take them any longer.
He waved his hand feebly in the air.
"I…I'm sorry you have to see me like this, X…" He bowed his head ashamedly. "I'm just an old man whose family died before he did…and whose only dream resides in you. And I am tired…so very tired…" Light collapsed into an unseen chair, staring only half aware of the camera. "But…soon, my efforts shall be done…and I can pass away, knowing I have done all I can for you. I hoped only the best in life for you, X. To be at peace, to know joy and satisfaction…perhaps even love." He shook his head. "I'll never know what becomes of you. But as I drift off into sleep, I console myself with my hope…"
"You are my son, Mega Man X."
"And you will do us all proud."
The capsule's image of Doctor Light shifted back into the stationary pose he always found himself in upon activation.
Pharaoh Man took one look at X, then quietly slipped the keyboard back into its slot in the Capsule. Pharaoh Man was fully aware of the impact that Light's words had had on them…but grief was one emotion that he had not developed yet.
"Stay as long as you need." Pharaoh Man spoke calmly, patting X on the shoulder as he passed out of the room and back into the main areas of the Fourth Ring. Solitude was what X needed now.
For X was in tears…And nothing could hold them back.
Sigma had purposely waited until Midnight to bring his newest creation to life.
Which meant, that with five minutes left to go, he was left sitting outside his sacred synthesizing laboratory, silently ticking off the seconds in his mind. Each more agonizing than the last, part of his fevered mind kicking and screaming for him to rush in there and do it then and now…
But there was enough of the original Sigma left…so far. The original Sigma's program that dictated patience, decorum, tact and sensibility. So he waited.
Kazok Gravor approached him with an air of grinning intelligence.
"Well, you were right…I did find a few things."
"Such as?" Sigma queried back, only giving half of his attention to the conversation.
"Some plasma grenades, an upgraded Buster System that lets me use both arms at the same time, and a secondary power supply booster for my gravicrystals."
"Gravicrystals…" Sigma mouthed. "Seems like an odd name." Kazok paused for a moment, silently wondering why his leader would be sitting on a bench that forced him to place one leg atop the other's knee and lean back against the wall…that is, until he followed Sigma's gaze to the door it stared at endlessly.
"The six of us are growing more confident in our abilities…tomorrow we're going to head out for a strike mission. Nothing too fancy, just in and out. Just to see if we can do it."
"And you'll minimize your interactions with the Maverick Hunters as a side effect." Sigma continued. "Not a bad plan." Kazok gave a brief nod…then finally spoke outside of his basic orders.
"So…how long now until you bring her to life?"
"Three minutes." Sigma replied, his voice as aloof as his gaze. No spark of anger for even the minor break from the militaristic sense, no tensing of his muscles. Not even the hint of annoyance in his voice. Occupied by something else than the concept of the upcoming conflict, Sigma was lost in his own thoughts…and barely aware of anything outside of it.
"I'd best leave you alone then." Kazok muttered, wandering off of his own accord.
Down the hallway, he turned to Dash Blade, the only other Maverick General still awake this late at night. In what was a very un-Maverick act, she had ordered the smaller replicator to brew her a cup of lemon tea. She sipped at it gently, lifting her eyes up over the ceramic mug's rim as she looked to Kazok's noisy approach.
"So now what is our fearless leader doing?" Dash asked quietly, setting the mug down. Kazok stared at the drink for a moment, then shrugged and walked over to the replicator and ordered a mug of hot cocoa for himself.
As it quickly fazed into existence, the liquid suspension heated to the precise temperature, he looked back over his shoulder towards her.
"As far as I can tell, he's bringing another into our midst." The feraloid's ears went straight up, and she rubbed at her all too pinkish catlike nose.
"Really…" She mouthed. She took another sip of tea as Kazok sat down at the table with her. "Any particular reason?"
"When I talked to it about him two days ago, he could list only one thing…Torture." Dash Blade's jade green eyes went diamond hard.
"What the devil sort of reason is that?"
"Hey, I'm just the chief underling here, I wouldn't have the answer." Kazok replied mutedly. He took a sip of his own hot cocoa, a thousand different questions echoing through his mind…most dealing with the fact that if he was a Maverick, should all these idiosyncrasies that seemed embedded in him exist at all? After all, he was a warrior who was supposed to be bloodthirsty, and here he sat, having a hot drink for a late night snack with an ally who…
He shook his head, pushing all the questions aside. Later, he would deal with them. Not tonight.
"We'll just have to wait and see." Dash Blade stared back at him.
"We wait?"
"We wait." Kazok assured her with an even tone.
And at last, it was time.
Moving with painstaking slowness, Sigma entered into his abode. The pale illumination of the overhead flatscreen monitor bathed the room in a dim green light…a green light echoed and continued by the bubbling chemical mess that the still immobile and inactivated Iris slept in.
"Time to arise, Iris." Sigma said noiselessly. His trembling fingers danced down to the keypad aside her capsule, and reached for the drain switch.
A part of Sigma was worried…his hands had killed hundreds of times, had ordered the deaths of hundreds more...never had they trembled as much as they did at this moment.
The self-illuminated green liquid slowly drained out from a port at the base of the capsule, leaving the interior clean…no patches or droplets remained, all siphoned away. Sigma pressed another switch and lowered the capsule so it lay flat, instead of standing at a vertical angle.
Another switch gently slid apart the clear viewing window…exposing Iris to the open world at last.
She wore no armor…her brown hair was bedraggled by its liquid bath, and her body, from the ankles to her neck and to her wrists, was covered in a skintight black suit.
And with his trembling hand, Sigma at last punched the final switch.
Slowly, Iris's systems began to come online. No readout was fed to the room's monitor overhead…none was needed.
The only visible signs of her activation into the living world…her second activation…Was that of a slow and steady breathing that gently raised and lowered her smallish, yet nymphlike chest.
Her hands at her sides slowly began to twitch as they were activated.
And at last, her lips parted to reveal the barest hint of the recesses of her mouth…and her eyelids slid back to let her blue eyes see the world for the first time.
"Iris…" Sigma said softly. "Iris…are you awake?"
The reploid who looked like, and who had been programmed to act like Iris blinked a few times before unsteadily testing her voice.
"I…I am…" Her arms grew more sure of themselves, and she lifted herself partway from the capsule.
Sigma was down on one knee beside it, his gaunt frame still towering over her as she sat up.
Her questioning, innocent blue eyes stared up into his own dark blood red optics with the jagged scars slashed across them.
"I am Iris…" She blinked, a look of confusion clearly evident. "Wha…"
"I will explain all in time, my dear." Sigma said as calmly as he could, offering her a hand. Still not quite aware of where she was or why…but with a naïve sense of the world that Sigma had left intact from the mind of the original, she gingerly reached her own smallish hand towards his own massive mitt with its deadly artifices.
He could have had her lay her hand flat against his, and he still could have touched finger to finger if he'd clenched his hand into a fist.
Unsteadily, Iris emerged from the capsule, her mind slowly taking everything in…learning it all for the first time.
And as one might have predicted…she stumbled and tripped upon contact with the ground, unused to standing or walking.
But Sigma was there to catch her…to hold her steady as her blinking eyes raced to discover the problem.
"Wha…what happened??" She asked with what little vocabulary she had.
Despite himself, Sigma smiled.
"You aren't used to being on your feet, Iris…don't worry, you'll get better over time."
Iris looked up into his face, more naïve than ever before.
"You promise?" She asked in a quivering voice that sought comfort. Sigma's smile curled up at one corner of his mouth, almost to the point of a sneer…
"I promise."