New Megaman Battle Network

A complete reimagining of the universe and stories of Megaman Battle Network.

Story 1: New Origins


Chapter 10: Turf Wars

(Warning: mild violent content ahead.)

- Two Weeks Before -

On 41st St. in downtown Den City, a cable car lay on its side in the street, the front of it twisted and smoldering. The onlookers had stopped screaming, as the mental impact of the blast started to settle, and they had formed a circle around the vehicle, talking loudly to themselves, or calling emergency services. A minute or so later, the emergency exit flew off the top of the cable car, causing people to gasp, and a young boy stepped out, carrying an injured young girl on his back. The onlookers watched as he started skating off toward the hospital.

Inside the cable car, one other passenger was starting to regain consciousness. He had been seated in the back, away from the blast, but he had badly hit his head and been knocked out; blood from his head was now starting to mix with the red of his hair and beard. He groaned, reaching up to hold his pounding head, but he hissed in pain as his hand touched an open wound. He cursed loudly, turning to look at the older, blond-haired man who had previously been sitting next to him; he was lying against a broken window on what was now the floor of the cable car, groaning in pain and starting to stir.

"Zapp!" The redheaded man reached out to shake his companion awake. "Are you alright? Can you move?"

"Ugh…" The blond man started to slowly push himself up into a sitting position, his back screaming in pain. "I think I can move…" He grabbed at a ruined seat, using it to slowly pull himself up. "What the hell happened, Match?"

"Someone laid a bomb," Match replied, his concern quickly being replaced with anger. "It was meant for the two of us." He reached down for his PET, glad to see that it wasn't broken, and he quickly typed out a message. "I'm having Maddy bring the getaway van. We need to get out of here before the cops show up."

"The two of us?" Zapp slowly got himself into a standing position, holding his back. "How do you know that?"

Match flipped through the screens of his PET for another couple of moments before putting it away. "I got a message just before the explosion. We're being hunted." He forced himself to stand, wiping blood out of his eye before moving to open the back door of the cable car. "They screwed it up. Now it's time for us to do the hunting."

Zapp nodded, as Match threw open the back door. He walked back to help the older man walk, draping an arm around his shoulders, and Zapp leaned against him for support as they started to leave. On Kenichi Match's PET, a text message was displaying four simple words:

Gospel sends its regards.


Seven minutes later, Match and Zapp were walking wearily down the street, trying to move as quickly as possible; several onlookers had already called emergency services specifically for them, and they were not interested in talking to the police. As they kept moving, they saw a windowless van driving toward then at a clearly unsafe speed, before it screeched to a stop in front of them. The sliding door opened up just a second later, revealing Maddy Iroaya; she gasped as she saw the two men standing on the sidewalk.

"Oh my God! Get in, get in!" She ushered the two of them in, helping them each to get a seat before leaping back into the driver's seat and speeding off again. "What on Earth happened?! Are you alright?"

"It was a bomb," Match answered, as Zapp tried to get himself comfortable despite his aching back. "Gospel tried to kill us. I'm fine, we're both fine. Just a little worse for wear."

"You're fine?! You're bleeding from the head! Did you get a concussion? Are you feeling dizzy?" She held her hand out to her side, in clear sight, holding up four of her fingers and hiding her thumb. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Match casually aimed a rude gesture back at the driver, annoyed. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Alright, you're fine," Maddy conceded, slowing a bit to make a turn. "Still, you're getting patched up when we get back."

He nodded, wiping more blood away from his face. "Those bastards… I thought they would respond in kind after we started collecting their Navis. This isn't in kind. This is an escalation. This is a war."

"Can we even fight a war?" she wondered aloud, heading toward the outskirts of Den City. "We don't have nearly as many people as Gospel does. They've grown a lot faster than we have. Zapp, if you're going to lie down when I'm driving this fast, put a seat belt on." Count Zapp grumbled as he reached up, groaning, and buckled himself in as he lay back on the middle seat.

"We can't fight a physical war," Match responded. "They have their tendrils in places we can't reach. We can't get our hands on weapons. We need to be smarter." He sat back, closing his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head. "Wily's nearly made a breakthrough with this Gospel Navi data. We need to act defeated for now. Bide our time until we can strike back, without inviting more assaults from them."

Maddy nodded, biting her lip, glancing at him in the rear view mirror, watching as the blood flowed down his face. The sight was making her sick to her stomach. This was not what she thought she was signing up for when she joined World Three; this was far too real. She forced her eyes back on the road, making her way back to headquarters, hoping that they both were going to be okay.


Two days later, a black van was pulling up to an apartment building in downtown Den City at one in the morning. The passenger door opened up, and a seventeen-year-old boy stepped out, wearing a hat and a large trench coat, covering his long green hair as much as possible. The boy walked up to the door and opened it, looking around to make sure that nobody was watching, before stepping inside and shutting the door; the van pulled away as soon as the door was closed.

He slowly walked up the darkened stairs to his apartment, very tired but still in high spirits. While the cable car bombing hadn't left any bodies, it had humbled World Three and sent them into hiding; they had not seen hide nor hair from them in the past couple of days. Soon, Den City was going to fall squarely into Gospel's grasp. His rise to power began now.

As he finished climbing the stairs and reached his floor, he failed to notice the figure quietly following him, having stepped out of a nearby electrical closet. The heavily bandaged man moved silently as he closely followed the younger boy, careful to stay out of sight, which wasn't difficult in the dark, mostly empty building. The exhausted state of the overconfident boy didn't help his awareness any.

He eventually stopped in front of one of the doors, grabbing a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocking it. He pushed the door open, ready to get some much-needed sleep, when he felt a pair of hands grab him from behind, pushing forward and slamming him to the ground. Before he could turn around to try and get up, he felt a heavy weight landing on him as someone planted their knee into his back, causing the air to rush out of him.

"Who… who the…?!"

From atop the boy, Kenichi Match grinned a devious grin, thrilled that this had gone so easily, eager for revenge. He pulled out his PET and pressed a button on it, causing two spikes to emerge from the top of the device, electricity sparking between them. He leaned down, speaking right into the boy's ear, wanting him to be filled with fear.

"World Three sends its regards."

The boy's eyes widened, and he struggled once more to get up before he felt a powerful surge of electricity course through him, and everything went black.


When the boy came to, he found himself once again in a dark room. Coming to his senses, he found he was no longer lying down, but was sitting in a chair, with a large amount of rope binding him to it. His entire body was sore, but he put it out of his mind as he struggled to get free. He tried to rock the chair back and forth, but it had somehow been fused to the floor and wouldn't budge. He cursed and ceased struggling, racking his brain for some way to get free, trying not to panic.

Several minutes later, he heard the sound of a door opening behind him, and the voice of an old man. "So, you're awake. Good." He tried to turn his head enough to look behind him, to no avail; he heard the footsteps of the man, along with the rapping of a cane against the floor, as he walked forward and slowly came into view. He didn't recognize the gray lab coat, the wild hair, or the monocle on the man's face, but he knew instinctively who he was dealing with.

"Wily," he growled.

"Kid Grave," Wily responded, taking a chair and sitting across from his captive, smirking. "I have to say, I thought that was just some sort of cheeky nickname. I had no idea you were an actual child."

"I'm no kid, old man," he retorted. "You think a child could have pulled off the bombing that put two of your Operators out of commission?"

The old man was unfazed. "A child certainly would have been stupid enough to let themselves get caught afterward. And by one of the Operators you put 'out of commission', no less."

Kid Grave gritted his teeth, furious. "How did you even find me?"

"What do you think we were collecting all those Navis of yours for?" Wily chuckled. "Once we extracted their security codes, which you were too stupid to deactivate, getting into the Gospel servers and tracking you down was pathetically easy." He smirked. "Whenever you're making a criminal enterprise, cybersecurity experts are your first hire."

"Thanks for the tip." The captive glared. "You didn't bring me here just to gloat, I'm guessing."

"No, that's exactly why you're here, actually," Wily responded. "After all the grief you and your organization have given me, I just wanted to see the look on your face when you realized that you've lost everything you've worked for."

"That's a complete load," Kid Grave shot back confidently. "I'm not stupid. If you didn't need me, you would have killed me in my apartment. You need something from me, and you're not getting it in a thousand years."

His captor chuckled, amused by the boy's cheek. "You're gravely mistaken about the position you're in, young man." He leaned in, his voice becoming more menacing. "I already have everything I need from you. Soon, everyone working with you will be following my orders, whether they want to or not. You are no longer relevant, either to me, or to this city."

The boy was shaken, though he tried to hide it. "You're lying, Wily…"

"Your time is done, Kid Grave." Wily's voice was low, gravely, sinister. "Gospel now belongs to me."

He stood up, leaning on his cane as he did so, relishing the worried expression on the boy's face. "Don't worry, you aren't going to die here… probably. I would prefer not to throw away a potential bargaining chip." He started walking toward the door. "We've got a room prepared for you. I won't lie, it's not a comfortable room, but you're not in a position to be picky. Your guards will be feeding you, if they don't forget." He smirked as he walked out the door. "Take care."

Kid Grave heard the door shut behind him, his heart sunk into his stomach. He had envisioned moments like this, but now that he was actually in one, he realized just how much he was in over his head. There was no planning his way out of this. His only option now was to pray for some sort of opening, or mercy. As he heard the doors open again, two heavy sets of footsteps walking over to him, he started to fear that neither one may come.


One week later, Maddy was walking through the halls of the World Three headquarters, making her way to her computer. She was a bit frazzled, and more than a bit tired; everyone in the organization had been working overtime for the past week, as big plans were underway after the capture of Kid Grave. She'd missed breakfast, and was holding a large wrapped sandwich in one hand, which she and her growling stomach were looking forward to.

As she walked by one door, she slowed, then eventually stopped, glancing back at it. She knew that this was the room that was holding Kid Grave; it was an office supply room that had been converted into a makeshift prison cell, with a heavy locked door, a small window that could be opened and closed, and a small slot for food to be pushed through. She watched it for a moment before turning and walking back to it, a vengeful look in her eyes. She wanted the satisfaction of seeing this monster face to face, the one who had tried to kill Ken Match and Count Zapp.

She walked up to the door and opened the window, expecting to see some sort of hulking soulless brute, biding his time until he could escape and cause more mayhem. As she peered inside, her eyes widened and she had to suppress a gasp. Instead of some imposing monster, she saw a tired, bruised, starving teenager, lying on the floor with his hands tied behind his back. His eyes were closed, barely having the energy to keep them open, looking like it took all of his strength to keep breathing.

Looking at him now, she found her previous anger melting away, replaced with a deep pity. For the second time in two weeks, she had come face-to-face with an image that she didn't think she could stomach. The fantasy of working for World Three was starting to crack, with reality shining through.

Inside the room, Kid Grave opened his eyes a bit, as he heard the sound of sliding metal, near the door. His eyes widened as he watched a pair of hands unwrapping something in his field of view, revealing a large and decadent sandwich, before sliding it his way on top of the paper. He scrambled over to it as the food slot shut itself again, starting to devour it, not caring that he didn't have his hands available to him. On the other side of the door, Maddy slowly stood up, peeking through the window once again; she watched him eat for a second before closing the window again.

"Not feeling hungry today, Madeline?" She jumped at the voice speaking to her, quickly turning to her left, seeing Dr. Wily watching her.

"Uncle Albert! I… I was… just…"

His eyes narrowed as he stared down his niece. "Just feeding the prisoner." She didn't know how to respond as he approached, not sure what to expect. She watched carefully as he walked toward her, then straight past.

"Compassion is no sin, Madeline," he spoke gently, as her eyes followed him. "But don't forget where your loyalties lie." He turned back to face her. "When you first came here, you told me you were prepared to do whatever it took to achieve our goals. Have you perhaps had a change of heart?"

She quickly shook her head. "No, I haven't. I'll do anything I have to. That's what I promised."

"Good." He turned back around. "Go get some lunch and get back to work."

"Yes, Uncle." She watched as he walked away, taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. She knew things would be hard, but she couldn't falter now. They were too close to achieving their goals, and she personally was in far too deep to back out. She would have to do some difficult things going forward; she didn't have time to doubt herself.

She turned around and headed back toward the secret entrance to the World Three headquarters, needing some food before she resumed her surveillance of Dr. Hikari and his son.


Five days later, one of the World Three security guards was walking through the halls late at night, making sure that nobody had snuck in. As he walked toward the door keeping Kid Grave locked up, he casually strolled up to it and flipped the window open, shining his flashlight through and peering inside. His eyes widened as he finally found the prisoner, lying motionless on the ground, with what might have been a pool of blood resting under his mouth.

"Oh hell, that's not good…" He quickly threw the door open and ran inside, kneeling next to the prisoner and shining the flashlight over him; the pool of red was coating his entire mouth. He cursed and leaned in closer to check for vital signs, not needing the grief that would come with having someone dying on his watch.

As he leaned in closer, listening for the sounds of breathing, Kid Grave suddenly turned to face him and rammed his forehead into the security guard's as hard as he could. The guard was heavily dazed, being taken by surprise, and he fell onto the ground himself, the room spinning. He watched as the prisoner got to his feet as fast as he could, racing out the door and trying to find his way to the exit. Lying back, trying to get his bearings, the guard was able to smell the distinct smell of tomato soup on the floor.

Two minutes later, Kid Grave had managed to make it back onto the streets of Den City, filled with adrenaline and a deep, newfound appreciation for whoever invented the exit sign. He could feel blood running down his forehead, and he was dizzy from the impact that had gotten him free, but he continued to run down the streets, looking for any sort of help. He wouldn't find it until the next afternoon, after he had gotten some sleep in an alleyway.


Later the next day, he found himself seated in the office of the Den City police commissioner. He had gotten some proper medical treatment, and was feeling full for the first time in weeks, giving him energy and mental clarity that he had been lacking. Another officer was standing nearby, and the two of them waited patiently for the commissioner to enter, which he did a few minutes later.

"So, you're claiming to be Kid Grave, head of Gospel." The older man sat behind his desk, studying the boy carefully. "You do match the physical description we've been given, I'll admit."

"I am Kid Grave," the boy responded. "I can prove my identity any way you like."

"Uh huh." The commissioner gave him a skeptical look. "And what is the head of Gospel doing in my office right now?"

"I'm here because things are about to get very dangerous," Kid Grave replied. "I've lost control of the organization. I was kidnapped by World Three just under two weeks ago, and I just managed to escape." He leaned in closer, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. "If we don't do anything, World Three is going to absorb Gospel completely. You'll have one giant criminal organization to deal with instead of two. Is that something you want to deal with?"

"And let me guess: you're offering to help us stop them, in exchange for some sort of legal immunity." He cocked his head. "Did you ever see yourself doing this sort of thing at seventeen, son?"

Kid Grave glared at him, frustrated. "No, I didn't. But this is how things turned out."

"Alright, kid, I'm going to level with you." The commissioner sat back in his chair. "I don't believe that you're Kid Grave."

"Why not?" The boy wasn't surprised by this, but he was ready to prove his identity by any means necessary.

"Well, we're basically always listening to whatever radio chatter we can pick up," the older man started explaining. "We're able to hear what's going on at the periphery of Gospel and World Three. And there hasn't been a single word from any Gospel operatives that anything is amiss. I feel like if their leader suddenly disappeared, people would be talking about it, don't you?"

Kid Grave blinked, not having expected this answer and not knowing how to respond. "They… what?"

"Furthermore," the commissioner continued, "they keep talking about orders that they're getting from 'the boss'. It sounds like he's still there, running things. One or two of them have even seen Kid Grave with their own eyes, in the past few days."

He glanced back at the boy sitting across from him, who looked like he was at a complete loss for words, his eyes wide. "That… that can't… be…"

The commissioner stood up, pushing his chair back with his legs. "We're going to keep you here a bit longer, making sure you're healthy and all that. If you want to start telling us the truth, whoever you are, there are plenty of people willing to listen, who are at the appropriate pay grade."

He walked past the boy and out of his door, having other matters to attend to. The other officer in the room reached out and grasped the boy's arm, getting him to stand, and the two walked out and down the hall. Kid Grave continued to be lost for words, having no idea what was going on.


In another part of Den City, inside an underground complex, a young woman walked up to an ornate door, holding a folder of papers in her arm. She knocked on the door and waited for a moment, before a buzzing sound signaled that she was allowed inside. She opened it and stepped inside, eyes focusing on the figure at the end of the room: a teenage boy with long, green hair, sitting behind a desk.

"Sir, I have an update on the project."

The boy nodded. "Go ahead."

"We've officially begun the formation of the Viral Beast. The tech is working exactly as we wanted; viruses are coming from all around."

"Per-per-perfect," the boy responded, his voice stuttering a little. "How long do you believe it will take to complete the beast?"

"It… depends on how many viruses are in the area," she responded, cocking her head a bit at the stuttering. "But we're at 10% completion right now. We're projecting completion somewhere between 6 and 16 hours; exactly how long it takes is not really in our control."

The boy nodded. "Well, even the long estimate is shorter than I was expecting. That's great news. Keep me notified of any ch-ch-changes."

"Sir… are you alright?" She stepped a little closer, noticing a tinny quality to his voice that she hadn't heard before. "You seem… under the weather."

"It's nothing you need to worry about. I've just been working hard. Maybe I caught something."

She nodded, taking a step back, not wanting to catch whatever Kid Grave had caught. "Well, take care of yourself, sir. I'll keep you updated."

The boy nodded, and the woman stepped outside, shutting the door behind her; it automatically locked as soon as it closed. Seconds later, a light seemed to disappear from Kid Grave's eyes, and he slumped forward on the desk like a rag doll, motionless.

Miles away, Dr. Wily was chuckling to himself, putting away a microphone hooked up to a device on his desk. His new toy had been working out even better than he had hoped; not only could he get immediate updates on everything Gospel was doing, but he was even issuing orders through the mechanical shell that his operatives had installed in Kid Grave's office. Soon the Viral Beast would be complete, and then his plans would enter a new phase. He had been right: Gospel was now his to command.

He stood up from his desk and walked toward the door, wanting to check on the progress of his other major project.