The beginning of the end for this fanfic, but not for Mega Man. At least, I hope not! Hopefully K.I. and his band of Capcom-ers will continue making Mega Man games, especially Battle Network ones! Well, new games are always good, too. Not to mention, I don't own Mega Man and all related indicia, but I must say this: rock on, Mega buddy:-)
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Suffice to say, Albert W. Wily was annoyed.
Very annoyed.
"Dark Rush!" he called to the elusive fatedog, pounding his fists on the smooth white plastic of the airplane's sides. It was a sleek metallic jet, named NetComfort and endorsed by the Grand Prix. As he returned to his ol' headquarters somewhere near DenTech, Wily noted the annoying dangers the dark-coloured dog would bring and was now seething, teeth bared, as the Dark Rush appeared in a cloud of smoke in front of him.
"What?" asked the Dark Rush almost boredly, streaking one hand across his shadowed head and floppy ears. "You guys seemed pretty happy fighting Haru out there."
Wily's blue-veined hand paused from where it was suspended in midair, preparing to grapple with the Dark Rush. "Well, I suppose…" He trailed off as his hand dropped and his cheeks reddened with the flattery. Or maybe it was just honesty. You never could tell with the Dark Rush, after all.
"By the way, you can't hurt me. Nyah, nyah!" The Dark Rush let out a shout as Wily experienced a change of heart and the thick, wrinkled hand came shooting back his way. The Dark Rush avoided his hand with ease, sidestepping in the nick of time. "It's one of my powers, along with floating in the air and this annoying tendency to perch in hair – or wardrobes, if I'm bored."
By now, Wily was sincerely confused. "OK," he reasoned calmly and craftily, trying to take stock of the situation, "So you create fate. Understandable enough. But can you explain to me the thing about fanfics again?"
"Actually, if I create fate or if I just herald it to good guys and bad guys alike is for me to know and you never to find out." This twenty-nine word sentence uttered from his – what, lips? I mean, he's my OC; I should know if he has any lips, but well, yeah… - lips, the Dark Rush then proceeded to jump into Wily's mangy mass of gray locks. "But, yeah, I'll tell you. This is how it starts…"
MEANWHILE…
Horace Rickman Mortimer, aka Haru Sakamoto, stared up at the Dark Rush. The little – only in a literal way of course; how could anyone with so much power in that tiny body be considered figuratively small? – fatedog had finished his tale to Wily and was now done with recounting it to the lazy one.
Haru took one last glance behind him. Kobayashi and her legion of guards had all turned traitor and took to the winds after the big "battle" – and as a result of that, his face was now severely bruised and tied up in bandages. Not to mention, the silver crutches now splayed, unused, on his private jet back on the way to London (Yep, he's British, all right) did not help him with his hobbling.
"Right, so we're surviving through adventures every day?" Haru asked now, showing an unusual brilliance when it came to it. "'Cause, seriously, that would be great."
"Not us; we're Fanficcer's OC's," the Dark Rush assured Haru, hopping into his veritable mane of spiky, pale gray hair. "Unless Fanficcer either thinks about us every day or lets other people use us for their stories, that probably won't happen." He snuggled deeper between the hair strands, enough so that they formed a sort of fuzzy nest and brushed against his soft, smooth, dog-shaped body. "But for actual official characters, like in Harry Potter (over 250 000 fanfics? Wicked!), it's quite possible."
"Hey, you! Get out of my hair!" Haru began dancing on the spot as he swatted frantically at the Dark Rush, but the fatedog refused to give in. He twisted and turned furiously for a second, but, when it gave no yield, crashed across the green sofa. The crutches, which had been leaning up neatly against the armrest (thanks to the jet's pilot, of course; Haru was too lazy to do that sort of thing), were knocked down in the process.
"Fatedogs are heavy, aren't they?" the Dark Rush grinned, lazily rolling over. He was still snugly nestled in Haru's gray-white mop; only his eyes and the tip of his snout emerged from the surface. "I would drive you up the wall with my sarcasm right now, except: A) I'm too comfortable, and B), you can't run if you get scared; it wouldn't be fair. So, ain't it great?"
Haru paused as the heavy load shifted in his hair, then shrugged it off.
"Kobayashi is so lucky," he murmured to himself. "Am I right?"
He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard the Dark Rush whisper back, "Of course not."
MEANWHILE (yet again)…
Ayame Kobayashi shrugged in response to the question her friend and fellow bad guy betrayer, Jinsei Toyama, had just asked.
"You know, I honestly don't know… Maybe we should ask the Dark Rush about it?" Everyone had seen the eccentric fatedog; now why was everyone calling him the same thing? Ah, well, my pen name's Thecrazyfanficcer, you know… No one said it always has to make sense. (grins evilly)
Though the question was a joke in its entirety (and the Dark Rush did know it), he suddenly appeared, floating in the air beside Jinsei's head. Ayame's surprised ally raised his eyebrow enough so that they disappeared into his shock of dyed chocolate-brown hair. "Wow, that was fast."
"Yeah – I had some time to kill," was the Dark Rush's casually-thrown response. "Right, so yeah – you're in a fanfic. Fanficcer also got me to endorse this, but I did it anyway." He smiled slightly, his pointed teeth showing over his lip with the small grin. "Now… ON WITH THE CRAZINESS! MUAHAHAHA!"
They stared as the crazy one began to dance to a mysterious tune that swirled all around them on the still air – stayin' alive? What in the world was that supposed to mean?
