Chapter 6

February 11, 2091(Ten Years Earlier)

The White House- Washington D.C.

"Deep down, you knew it would end this way." Gutsman's words seemed miles away to Scott, who sat beaten and bound in the bright-white holding cell. The General sat on the other side of the glass, glaring at him. Scott couldn't focus, his friends, the love of his life, even his dog, Shroud had killed them in front of him. Now this hulk of an android wanted to speak to him of outcomes and logic? He looked up, not bothering to wipe the blood from his eyes. "And how do you think it will end for you?" He asked.

Guts cocked his head, slightly offended by the question. "I don't believe my well-being should be your central cause of concern, Mr. Bonne. Do you really wish to spend your final moments trying to insult me?" He asked, genuinely.

Warily, Scott pointed across the room, "On the table over there, there's a pack of Reginald's cigarettes." He lowered his arm, "If we are gonna have a chat before I die, can you at least bring me one?"

Guts nodded, walking over and sliding a cigarette and lighter in through the oxygen port. Scott chuckled morbidly at the irony in this, before lighting it and taking a deep drag.

"I haven't smoked in three years." He said casually, as the General looked at him impatiently. "I always believed, when I would have coughing spells, that they were killing me." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Funny how things work out in the end. You never know how you're gonna go, until it's too late to go back and change things."

Guts sat back in his chair, "Too late to go back, now Mr. Bonne. But it's a normal reaction to see the error of your ways, and realize the mistakes you've made. Unfortunately your friends and yourself have already paid the price. That's something you will have to take with you."

Scott laughed now, blowing out smoke as he flicked an ash on the floor. "I was referring to smoking." He said, holding up the cigarette. "If I could change these course of events, I wouldn't. We all knew what we were getting into. We all knew this day would come, General. But we weren't going to lay down and take it."

"A foolish theory, if you ask me, Mr. Bonne." Guts replied, agitated. "You got a lot of people killed with your false hope. These humans don't stand a fighting chance, why fill their heads with nonsense and bravado?" He leaned in close to the glass, "You are no better than us, in my opinion."

Scott looked down at the floor, taking another drag. "Hope." He said quietly, "Hope in the right hands can be crucial. I'm not a sentimental person, I know thousands will die because of it. But the way I see it they weren't really living to begin with." He tossed the cigarette down, stomping it out, "But if the one person who ends Wily's reign and destroys all of you was motivated by us, it was all worth it." He stared hard at Guts now, "Wily is a psychotic, power-hungry dictator. He created an army of free-thinking machines to be just as ruthless." He scoffed, "How long before there's a chink in that armor. You don't need to respond or accuse me of mind games, because it's something that's already been running through your head." Scott smirked, spitting blood on the floor, "Welcome to the human world. Where you are no better than us."

Gutsman began to experience rage now. Not just at the comments, but at the complete misconception he had of the human before him. Scott's ideals were dangerous and reckless. Guts had expected something different, something more humane from his prisoner. The only thing that comforted him was knowing that in a few hours Scott Bonne would be removed from the equation completely, never to trouble him again. "I think we've reached the end of our conversation, Mr. Bonne." Guts replied, as he stood up to leave.

"General." Scott said, stopping the android in his tracks. "You know what the difference between us is? Besides the obvious, of course."

Gutsman didn't bother to turn around, "Enlighten me." He responded.

"I knew this would end this way, like you said." Scott informed him, "You still think you're going to win."

"Enjoy Hell, Mr. Bonne." Guts replied.

"Thanks for the smoke, Machine." Scott said, smirking, as the android walked out.

Glitch and Scott walked solemnly down the well lit corridors of the White House. They were surrounded by steel security droids and led by Gutsman, Shroud, and the King himself. Scott began humming "Renegade" by Styx, causing his friend to chuckle, despite the impending doom in their future.

"I fail to see the humor in the situation." Wily retorted, continuing to walk.

"We're reachin' the end of our journey, mate." Glitch replied, "You still got a long road of troubles ahead of ya."

Wily scoffed, "You highly overestimate the will of these sheep." He stopped, turning to face them, "Take comfort in the fact that once the two of you lay with holes in your heads, these people are mine."

For a brief second Scott glanced over, meeting eyes with Guts, before Wily's forehead drove into his nose, causing him to drop to his knees, seeing double. He began to snicker as he was snatched to his feet, and the men were escorted to their deaths, and the General could move forward with his existence, worry-free.

April 17, 2101

Eisenhower Executive Office Building

Guts sat at his workbench, donning a sliver, red-eyed headgear and one gauntlet as he picked up the diamond grinder. He recalled the conversation with Scott Bonne with one hundred percent accuracy, such being a perk of having a memory core rather than an organic brain. With a thought, the silver armor sprang from the glove, covering his right arm. He held the arm up, making three quick chopping motions. Raising the grinder, he began shaving down millimeters of the hinging bolts for better movement speed.

Lord Zero had taught him years ago, the art of always seeking to improve your assets. The armor he had was impenetrable, but he needed two key things badly, vision and agility. He would need these improvements if he intended to fulfill his destiny, eradicating the androids that stood in his way, and seizing the crown from a delusional old man who once had the world in his hands. Killing fellow androids, the thought brought him back to the cigarette and Scott Bonne, which reminded him of his own hypocrisy, a vicious circle of mental juggling. He prided himself on being the protector and leader of the machines, striking down any who would dare bring on wrong-doing. Yet, he had sentenced three androids to their death, and planned to murder three others.

All he could picture was Bonne, with that jackal's grin, smoking that fucking cigarette. A final act of defiance? Celebration? Did it symbolize that Scott knew something that he didn't? Guts was thinking himself in circles, refusing to let a human get inside his head. He would never know the answer for sure, the frustrating fact was that Protoman was not the man he spoke with all those years ago.

The comms chimed inside his helmet, causing his thoughts to be interrupted. "Yes, Quick." He answered, slightly annoyed.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Quickman questioned. "I've been trying to reach you for hours! The Bonnes killed Heat!"

Guts went back to grinding at the arm piece, subtly showing a lack of respect. "I've been busy with our King, trying to get our original base of operations back in working order while trying to root out the Megaman." He answered over the loud noise. "Forgive me if I wasn't wearing my comms the entire time."

Quick shook his head furiously, "I'm sick of waiting on you and your shortcomings. I'll get my hands on them some other way, but it's time you faced the music, General." He said beginning to open his console.

Gutsman quickly changed his tune, "Quickman, wait!" He said. "I am finished with all of my detail. Give me twenty-four hours and I guarantee they will stand before you."

"This is it, Guts. No more chances. I want to be looking at them tomorrow!" Quick demanded, before the holo blinked out.

The General looked down, noticing the clasp had split and the bottom half of the steel sleeve had retracted. He gritted his teeth as he snatched the broken top half off and activated his comms.

"Heroes for hire." Protoman answered on the other end.

"It's time we end our little rapport. I'll need to bring you to our common problem in order for this to work." He paused for a second, "I would say 'trust me', but we both know what's going to happen once he's dead, but we will deal with that then."

"This plan doesn't sound the least bit shady, so no sweat." Proto responded, "We are kinda in the middle of something, so you can meet us after. That is of course, unless you want to come join."

Guts could hear the cocky grin over the scratchy audio, when his emergency comms went off. He quickly cut transmission and answered the line, hearing Quickman activate his mic.

"You're in luck, big guy. I just picked up the Bonnes at Crashman's weapons depot." He said, "I suggest you get a move on, sir."

General Gutsman said nothing. Instead he removed his prototype helmet, and grabbed his battle case on the way to The Accolade. "Fucking Bonnes" He thought, as he smashed open the door.