Chapter 8: Oma (Part 3)


- A/N: Special thanks to beta readers Sylla and Ice.


If there was one bit of silver lining, it was that the tremendous physical damage was never 'life threatening'— Bass didn't actually need a body to survive. These repairs ended up dragging on, much for the same reasons the first rebuild had. In theory, there was nothing on his chassis that couldn't be replaced. In practice, it wasn't like Dr. Cossack could just go out and procure more of the special metal he was built with. They'd recovered as much as possible, down to the smallest fragments, but the fact was that Dr. Cossack didn't have what he needed to complete the job.

They'd ended up having to rely on its self-repair function to replace what was lost. It was more efficient now that Dr. Light had optimized it, but due to the sheer degree of damage, that still took time.

This led to a period where Bass refused to leave the citadel because he wasn't in any condition to fight. He ended up getting more involved in Dr. Cossack's work. The scientist found himself encouraging him to help out around the lab.

In some ways, it was nice. In other ways, he could be a bit of a nuisance.

Eventually Break Man was able to persuade him to take a trip to Dr. Light's lab.

Once there Roll greeted them, offering Dr. Cossack refreshments and giving Bass a critical look. His right hand and wrist were the dark matte gray of bare metal.

"You water-tight yet?" she asked.

He responded by pulling up his shirt, revealing gaps of wire mesh frame where his hull hadn't yet sealed over, allowing a glimpse of hydraulics tubes and cables and circuit boards inside. "Nope."

"Hmmm."

Once Dr. Cossack was settled and chatting with Dr. Light about their most recent projects, Roll grabbed Bass by the arm.

"Come on."

"Where? Why?"

"Battle preparation," Roll replied with a grin.

Soon after Dr. Cossack went looking for them. "What have you all gotten into?" He did a double take. "What is this?"

Bass was shirtless, arms up with hands clasped behind his head, looking bored while Roll wound clear packing wrap around his torso, and Break Man watched with barely-contained amusement.

"I'm just doing some water-proofing," she said, "for the tournament."

"Tournament?"

"Yeah." She seemed annoyed by the questions. "We're having a no holds barred, free for all, to the death water-gun and water-balloon fight." Roll paused to glance up at Dr. Cossack. "Except somebody is full of holes!"

"Oh 'boo hoo'," Bass replied sarcastically. "It's your dumb brother's fault, anyway."

"Don't say that. You know it's not true, and he still feels really terrible about it," said Break Man.

"I know. That's why I said it. I'm going to guilt him to death, it's all a part of my evil plan."

"This is not a good idea," Dr. Cossack said. "Don't you have video games you can play instead?"

Roll pouted. "We already got the super-soakers and I spent all morning filling balloons."

Although Dr. Cossack didn't put his foot down, they could tell he was really apprehensive about this. Bass scowled and then waved Roll away.

"Fine. It's not like I care about this stupid kiddie stuff anyway."

Break Man was crestfallen, but did the responsible thing and supported the decision. "Alright, no big deal. I'll let Mega Man know and he can get the game system hooked up—"

"No. You guys already put too much work into this. Go have your throwdown, and when it's done, I'll go against the winner."

"…Are you sure?" He felt bad, dragging him out here for outdoor summer fun, only to exclude him from it.

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine."

But Bass left the plastic wrap on under his shirt, and sat backwards on the couch, knees on the seat cushion and elbows on the backrest as he gazed out the window.

It worked. After about fifteen minutes Dr. Cossack sighed and relented. "Let me see if what Roll did was adequate." He made a few adjustments, grumbling quietly to himself, and then let Bass go.

The best part was that Bass was able to find their supplies and get equipped without anyone knowing, taking them all by surprise when he joined the fray.

He even did a good job of avoiding any hits. In reality, the Light 'bots (even Roll!) were all pulling their punches, doing their best to shoot near him or lob the water balloons close by. As robots, this wasn't difficult: they had great aim and physical coordination. As friends, this was an almost Herculean challenge: because the fun was in hitting each other with everything they had.

If Bass figured out what they were up to, he didn't mention it.

"Ha!" He took the opportunity to mock Mega Man. "Look at you, you're soaked! And I'm barely even—"

Unable to help himself, Mega Man hurled a balloon, nailing Bass right in the face.

"You talk! Too! Much!"

"Pffff—! Argh!"

Inside, the in-depth conversation about dry technical subjects had gone way off course.

"…and she's a brilliant software engineer— I think she could've given Wily a run for his money, if she'd applied it to AI and robotics— but the fact of the matter is that I'm just not looking to settle down." Dr. Cossack paused to glance over the rim of his glasses. "If you ask me, I think she's more your type anyway."

Dr. Light laughed. "My 'type'? Since when have I ever had a type?" Then he shook his head. "I'm too old to start dating now, Mikhail. Stop trying to set me up."

"You are never too old for romance," he replied. "Come on, Xavier! At least meet her. You can couch it as a job for some project or another, and see if anything clicks."

"You're not going to let this drop anytime soon, are you?"

"Most certainly not."

Lost in thought, Dr. Light started playing with his beard, twisting strands of hair between his fingers.

"Well… I actually could use some help with—" He cut off and sighed. "Alright, I'll take Dr. Lalinde's com contact information." Then he gave Dr. Cossack a stern look. "But that doesn't mean I'm trying to get back in the game. After this, I expect you to stop hounding me on the issue."

He nodded in agreement, but had a sly look that indicated otherwise. "Of course, of course."

The front door opened and the four robots crowded into the entryway.

They were quite a sight to behold. The battle had turned part of the yard into a mud pit, and not one of them had avoided it. At some point things had devolved into a wrestling match— except it wasn't so much 'wrestling' as it was pushing and shoving, with some punches thrown in for good measure.

Mega Man was the strongest, but Bass was the heaviest, and eventually given up on tactical strategy and simply sat on him. That worked until Break Man and Roll decided to turn it into a dog-pile, both tackling them at the same time.

"…I'll get the pressure washer," Dr. Light said. "Stay there."

Roll pulled a leafy twig out of her hair.

"Why didn't I think of that? It would've kicked this thing to another level," she said.

Dr. Cossack followed Dr. Light. "If you can find me a bucket and some rags, I'll take care of mine…" The water-guns had been questionable, but the pressure washer was just asking for a short circuit.

"I can do it myself!" Bass called after him.

With the tools in hand, everyone was herded back outside.

Roll went first, then took the spray nozzle from Dr. Light and gleefully hosed down her brothers. Mega Man cried out in surprise and did his best to shield his face from the stinging blast. Break Man took off his shades and scarf, then stood with his hands on his hips and chest puffed out.

"Hit me!"

Afterwards Dr. Light passed out towels and clean, dry clothes.

"I want those back," Break Man told Bass, in reference to the borrowed outfit. He finished wiping off his shades and put them back on. The scarf would need laundered, as much as he hated to go without it.

Watching all of this, then looking out onto the ruined backyard, Dr. Cossack slowly shook his head. "Why can't you just play a nice game of football?"

The Light 'bots looked confused. Football was just as liable to tear up the lawn, and they didn't have enough people to play.

"He means soccer," Bass said.

Mega Man's eyes lit up in excitement. It was something he'd wanted to do a while ago, but given up on. Now it was clear that there was no way the other three were going to get out of it.

"So," asked Dr. Light, "who 'won'?"

"No!" Break Man cried.

A fierce argument broke out between Mega Man, Bass, and Roll.

Careful to avoid his sunglasses, he slapped his forehead in dismay. "Why would you ask that?"


The next few months brought excitement and changes. Team Zolotse started their second season of battle 'bot tournaments, with a robot based off of Beat, the small bird-like support unit that Dr. Cossack had built for Mega Man. They would make it further this time, but ultimately come short of the championship round.

The Giertz's announced their pregnancy, much to everyone's excitement. (Except Bass. He was less than thrilled.) With the recent events they'd postponed telling their friends in the 'Wily-Light-Cossack' circle, but Desirée was far enough along that they could no longer keep it under wraps.

After some rather intense discussions the Light family was able to reach an agreement, and after consulting a lawyer and having many, many boring meetings with producers, Mega Man signed off on the movie rights to his life story. It was too early to tell whether or not this would be terrible, but deep down inside they all kind of knew that it would.


For a long time Bass couldn't understand why Dr. Wily'd had such a bad relationship with his mother, and presumed the problem had been on Wily's end. Considering how emotionally dysfunctional Wily was, it wasn't an unfair assumption— even though Ingrid admitted she was never cut out for raising children.

The more time spent with her, the more Bass caught glimpses of the ugliness below the surface.

Ingrid shared Albert's callousness, his cold-hearted indifference, his biting cruelty.

But where Wily had often said mean things, they were usually weak insults, tired and repetitive and impersonal. His mother, on the other hand, was a master of the art. She knew exactly what to say in order to inflict the most damage, using her words with pinpoint precision, effortlessly cutting to the quick. Nothing was sacred. Bass watched her, in a foul mood or feeling ill, destroy one hapless caretaker after another.

"See? This is why your husband left you."
"It's a shame you don't watch your weight, you have such a pretty face…"
"No wonder your daughter turned to drugs."
"Stop blaming other people. You're only here because you were too stupid to pass med school."

He managed to stay out of Ingrid's line of fire. Being the only family member who made the effort to see her, she was careful not to push him away.

…Until her flesh-and-blood grandchildren started coming out of the woodwork, that was. Even with solid proof of Wily's death, the previous fake outs had left them understandably cautious. It took over a year before any of them built up the nerve to reconnect with old Oma Wily.

It very quickly became apparent where Bass ranked in her family hierarchy.

He was a machine, a stand-in, a product of the son she loathed. Better than nothing, but easily cast aside once she no longer had to make do.

New pictures popped up in her collection of digital displays, people Bass had never seen before. They weren't exactly cousins, but…

"Who's this?" he asked, picking up a display featuring a young couple and their apple-cheeked little boy. The mother had Frederick's strong, unmistakable chin.

"What's it matter? They're nothing to you," Ingrid snapped.

As much as it stung, Bass took it in stride. She never went at him full tilt, and he convinced himself she wouldn't— ignoring Dr. Cossack's gentle warnings that she might. After all, she liked him (or at least she had), which was more than he could say for Wily or the staff at the nursing home. She was one of the few people he felt he could trust, had been a pillar of support when he'd needed it most, and he refused to believe she'd ever really hurt him.

So the backhanded compliments and veiled insults, implications that he was somehow inferior, followed by the insistence that he'd just taken it the wrong way… these things Bass learned to ignore. He occasionally protested, but was more likely to just leave.

Things came to a head one day when she was ranting about how terrible Dr. Wily was. It was a topic that came up often, but she'd been going on about it all morning, and didn't seem like she was going to drop it. When ignoring her didn't work, Bass made the mistake trying to defend his creator.

"Wily couldn't have been that bad… if nothing else, he did build me."

She scoffed.

"Which is why you're both failures. Trash can only create more trash."

Here was his fatal error. "So then what's that make you?"

This earned a dark, mirthless laugh from Ingrid.

"Also trash, but at least I know what I am. You're all mixed up, a clever toy that thinks you're a person."

It was the least subtle jab she'd ever taken at him. In theory, he should've been able to take it on the chin. In practice, the stress from the last few months already had him at the breaking point… and in the end, even at his most restrained, Bass was still hot headed and combative. "How dare you, you useless, dried up—!"

"Shush. Do you know the saddest thing about it? As much as I hate Bertie, he was my son— my real son. I'll still love him more than he ever could've loved an appliance."

For a split-second he reeled in shock.

While Bass and Wily had some truly spectacular fights, they were always a joint effort. Heck, Bass had instigated half of the time— more than half— and the times he hadn't, he'd absolutely escalated things. Dr. Wily had always blown hot and cold, but never reached such extremes as Ingrid did. This was the same woman who'd stroked his hair and called him 'sweetie', who whistled and sang cheerful little tunes off-key, who played chess with a robot and insisted that he not let her win (though he did anyway).

Years ago Wily had told him that humans would 'grind you down into pulp'. At the time, Bass thought he was speaking from general experience. Now he wasn't so sure.

Shock gave way to an even greater rush of anger, and this infuriating sense that he should have seen this coming.

"Take it back," Bass said through clenched teeth.

"No."

"Take it back, you miserable old bag!"

"Don't act like it bothers you." There was a devious glint in her eyes. "Bertie's dead and you're here. If you'd actually cared about him, it'd be the other way around—"

These things he'd felt, things he'd told her when grieving, in pain and at his lowest… she took them and turned them into weapons against him. Before he knew it Bass had a fistful of cheap polyester house dress in his left hand and a charging cannon on his right, and a threat at the tip of his tongue. It was at this point Wily would've panicked, but Ingrid didn't flinch. Instead she fixed him with a stony gaze.

"Let go of me."

Then she spat on him.

Just like that all the rage was gone; in its place a sick, sick feeling.

Bass couldn't get out of there fast enough.

And he never went back.


Expecting to have a quiet afternoon, Dr. Cossack jumped to the obvious conclusion when Bass returned far too early, completely devastated.

"Oh," said Dr. Cossack, leaving his work and approaching with open arms. It was bad. There was no protest, no bluster, no outrage— Bass let him pull him into an embrace. "Oh. It's okay. It'll be okay."

For a few minutes there was a pained silence, Bass shaking from emotion he couldn't express.

Finally, in the most comforting tone he could muster, Dr. Cossack tried to offer his condolences. "I'm so sorry. We knew it was coming, she was up in years. The sad thing we humans only have a short time before—"

Bass abruptly pushed him away.

"She didn't die! But I wish she had—" He wavered between being heartbroken and furious. "That stupid, hateful old bint! The things she said! She— I can't believe— It was…"

He started to pace, an ugly sort of rage building inside him. Dr. Cossack waited patiently while Bass struggled to explain what had happened, too wound up and too angry and trying to keep it contained. He raved and cursed but didn't actually say much. Mikhail was having a difficult time getting straight answers or many details. Evidently they'd had some minor disagreement— something about Dr. Wily— and then the bottom fell out.

Bass stopped mid-sentence, snarled and punched the nearest thing: a computer terminal. The metal case buckled from the impact and the monitor screen cracked.

For a brief moment it looked like he was going to have a violent tantrum right there in the lab, and Dr. Cossack cautiously backed away. Then he realized that breaking things hadn't helped, and buried his face in his hands.

After what felt like an eternity, he started to calm down. This time he spoke without moving or looking up. "Is it… is it possible for a human to actually love a machine? Really, not like a toy or a pet, but the way they would another person?"

Wordlessly, Dr. Cossack approached and placed both hands on the robot's shoulders, while Bass stood there shuddering and refused to meet his gaze.

"You already know the answer to that." After an uneasy pause, he continued. "Listen. As far as parents are concerned… it doesn't matter if their child is born of their own blood, or built by their own hand, or came into their life some other way. Human, robot, it really, really doesn't matter."

Another minute passed and Bass finally looked up at Dr. Cossack, his expression one of uncertainty.

"I, um, I may have threatened her with my plasma cannon."

"You wouldn't have actually shot her, would you?"

"No… I'd have dropped the charge or shot the wall or whatever."

Dr. Cossack cleared his throat. "Was that before or after calling you an 'appliance'?"

"After."

"Well… you shouldn't point a weapon at a human being. That was bad. But if I'm being honest, I probably would've done the same if I were in your shoes."

Bass was surprised. "Really?"

"Mhmm. Don't do it again." Then he offered a small, encouraging smile. "You're not in trouble."

"…Okay."

"I have some weapons that could use testing, if you wanted to head out to one of the old Skull Fortresses."

"Nah." He looked down at the floor. "I don't even feel like causing mayhem right now."

"Do you want to go see Desirée and Karen?"

"They have their hands full with the baby…"

Dr. Cossack was a bit at a loss, because with Kalinka the answer was always 'strawberry ice cream and a trip to the carousel', even after she was much too old for the carousel.

He had to think about this one.

"How do you feel about fishing?"


- A/N: 'Bass Threatens Little Old Ladies with a Plasma Cannon: A Novel'

- (That's right, both this and the incident with Mrs. Giertz happen within a short period. As an aside, Mikhail doesn't know about that one.) (Hopefully I still have my timeline straight, lol.)

- Don't say I didn't warn ya: "Make no mistake, Wily didn't get his cruel streak from his father." ~Author's notes, Oma (Part 1)