Episode 28: Diamond in the Rough
Fake Man was taking the elevator up to the top floor of Citadel Headquarters. To avoid suspicion, he had switched from the guise of robo-officer Prime-Double-Zero to Chief Fictus—a stiff navy uniform covering his robo-officer-imposter body, an animatronic mask with a steel gray mustache concealing his mouthless robo-officer-imposter face. The head secretary had admitted him without much of a thought—after all, the chief of the California State Police had visited Citadel many times before.
The elevator opened up on the hundredth floor to a long, brightly-lit hallway. Fake Man marched down this hallway, ignoring the black bubble security cameras above which were tracking his every movement and the loud echoing of his own footfalls, until he reached a door. He knocked once, then waited for it to slide silently open.
On the other side was a large, circular office. Unlike the hallway outside, it was dimly lit, the night sky projected on its domed ceiling, a vast window on the opposite side facing the ocean.
Dr. Cossack sat hunched over his desk, one hand kneading his forehead, the other busy writing. Though his swan-white lab coat and auburn beard were as pristine as ever, the shadows beneath his eyes were slightly more pronounced than usual. On his desk were a stack of papers—formulas for a secret metal superalloy and what looked like the construction plans for a power plant. The phone at his elbow flashed with several missed calls, his mug of black coffee looked cold.
"Delayed again," Dr. Cossack murmured to himself as the door closed behind Fake Man. The charcoal sketches that were pinned to the office walls appeared frenzied—Dr. Cossack did appear to be stressed and overworked, but he gave Fake Man a small smile as he looked up. "Hello, Chief Fictus—what brings you to L.A.? Is something wrong?" he asked, pushing his half-rim glasses up the bridge of his nose while whisking the superalloy formula away into a drawer.
Naturally, Fake Man was very curious about what he had just seen, but knew better than to press for details and instead stuck to his mission. "I won't take up much of your time," he told Dr. Cossack gruffly, folding his arms behind his back. "I'm responding to an incident that occurred close by—heavy destruction caused by a dangerous rogue robot who can transform into a giant spiked ball. It appears to be part of a plot involving mad science—many buildings were overtaken by what looked like large mechanical red vines, and Dr. Wily's robots were seen in the city."
The tiredness vanished from Dr. Cossack's eyes as he sat up. "Wily attacked L.A.? Seems rather bold of him," he muttered dryly. "Are any of his robots still here?"
Fake Man shook his head. "The L.A.P.D. robo-units have secured the city, and repairs are already in progress—unfortunately all of Wily's robots have vanished. Still, I would advise you to take precautions, just in case."
Dr. Cossack sniffed. "Citadel is built stronger than a fortress, it takes more than mad science to break into here. I'm surprised that idiot tried to take on the Californian robo-officers at all—there really is no limit to his gall."
Taking a snip of cold coffee, Dr. Cossack's eyes fell back down on the power plant plans, then back up at Fake Man, who was hesitating. "…Is there something else, Chief Fictus?"
"Yes," Fake Man replied slowly, watching Dr. Cossack closely. "…It wasn't the robo-officers who drove the assailants off."
Dr. Cossack blinked at Fake Man. "Oh, did Mega Man and Roll show up?"
"Yes, but there was someone else, a 'Mega Girl.'"
"'Mega Girl?'" Dr. Cossack repeated, puzzled. "You mean Roll?"
"No, not Roll. Another robot altogether."
"Oh, perhaps Tom has built another," Dr. Cossack replied unconcernedly. He began to pour over the power plant plans again.
"I was wondering if you might know something about her?"
"Sorry, haven't a clue. Is she causing trouble?"
"No, but she doesn't appear to be part of any official law enforcement, which would make her a rogue robo-vigilante. We don't want rogue robo-vigilantes in California."
Frowning, Dr. Cossack looked up again. "I see. Well, keep an eye on the situation. But in the meantime, I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me—I'm very busy."
"Of course. Thank you for your time." Fake Man nodded to Dr. Cossack, turned toward the office door, then paused. "Before I go…may I ask where your daughter was yesterday?"
"Kalinka?" A bright grin burst out on Dr. Cossack's face. "Why, she was here working in the laboratory! Why do you ask?"
"Nothing…hopefully nothing."
Not wanting to elaborate further, Fake Man left the office. It was part of his job to keep tabs on Kalinka—discreetly, of course.
…Not that this was difficult—the 'little princess' seemed to be wherever trouble was. Dr. Cossack seemed oblivious to this. But if Kalinka was truly at Citadel, then she was accounted for.
In the meantime, he'd still be on the lookout for the robo-vigilante Mega Girl, just in case.
Shortly after Hellrazor's rampage in Los Angeles, Kalinka and Quint had smuggled Punk into Quint's underground laboratory at Citadel Headquarters using one of his secret entrances. Since Punk was still technically a criminal at large, they felt it best that no one knew they were harboring him (at least, until the heat died down).
Punk looked around around the vast laboratory in awe. Quint watched Punk, privately still feeling Kalinka's plan for Punk to stay here was a little hasty. True, even Quint could grudgingly admit he did have space in his laboratory for Punk—but what if Punk became a nuisance to his experiments, or distracting during research? After all, Punk was programmed for robo-fighting tournaments, not to be a lab assistant!
Meanwhile, Kalinka had changed out of her Mega Girl suit and taken the Sun Crystal out of her mini-blaster to stare broodingly at it. Beat was perched on her shoulder.
"The Sun Crystal…it's not as bright as it was before," she told Quint quietly. "…Do you think something is wrong with its Justice Energy?"
Quint peered at the Sun Crystal, which did appear duller than it had when Sunstar had first given it to her. "I could run an analysis, though I suspect it needs time to 'recharge'. Your suit used a lot of its energy to restore Punk back to normal."
"I'm just glad that's all behind us," said Punk, folding his arms behind his head.
"Actually, you're still infected with evil energy," Quint informed Punk. "Luckily the active possession period was brief. Had the evil energy had more time to corrupt, it would have been more difficult to make inactive."
Punk started, his eyes widening. "So…I could change back into Hellrazor at any time? I don't want that! Well, it wasn't all bad—I felt so powerful—but then I remember thinking…what would Dr. Rose think of me?"
"It is uncertain if you can change into Hellrazor at any time," Quint replied. "It depends on what was the original catalyst that caused you to change in the first place. Punk, how did you become infected with evil energy?"
Scratching his head, Punk thought for a moment. "Well, I was sitting alone back at my old place, watching the news and minding my own business, when there it was—some kinda one-eye shadow puppet on the floor, a circle about ye big."
Punk spread out his arms.
Quint blinked. "…What?"
"Yeah, and it talked to me!" Punk continued. "Offered to help me out, then gave me that purple flame you guys say is evil energy. I think it wants you both out of the picture." Punk shrugged.
Quint frowned. "Likely this entity can take any shape they want… Still, scientifically speaking, this is not a lot to go on." He looked over at Kalinka. "We should talk to Sunstar and the Stardroids again. They made it seem like what happened to Punk might not be a one-off. Though, for some reason, they didn't seem to want us there…"
"Can we talk to them again?" Kalinka asked, interested.
"Perhaps," replied Quint. "Though, like the Sun Crystal, the machine we used to initiate inter-dimensional Contact needs time to recharge."
"Well, maybe that shadow one-eye circle thingy won't come back, and there won't be any more evil energy invasions," Kalinka said brightly. "But if there are, Mega Girl, Quint, and Punk will be ready!"
"That's right!" agreed Punk enthusiastically.
"Well, anything is possible," Quint replied cautiously. Again, he thought their 'team' was anything but conventional: a famous teenage socialite who had spontaneously taken on a heroic double identity, a mild-mannered scientist who rarely left his laboratory, and a rowdy rogue robot who had only just recently reformed from crime—they certainly made an odd trio!
"In the meantime, we should get you settled," Kalinka said brightly, grabbing Punk by the elbow. "C'mon, I'll help you!"
Punk gave Quint a hard look. "Look, I know you and I don't exactly see eye to eye on everything, Brainiac—but that doesn't mean I'm gonna cause trouble—I'm here to help in any way I can, honest!" he said, clapping Quint on the shoulder (causing Quint's knees to buckle).
Quint was about to retort, caught Kalinka's watchful gaze, then swallowed. "Looking forward to it," he replied instead.
Dr. Light sat at the desk in his office working through a stack of paperwork. Outside his window, soft snow fell from a gray sky. It had been another cold day—each day growing colder and shorter as snow fell more frequently—the type of day one would rather spend sitting in a comfortable armchair by a fire with a good book.
Unable to concentrate, Dr. Light set down his pen, rubbing his eyes wearily. He had a lot on his mind.
Not long ago, Mega Man had casually mentioned he was having nightmares, which was troubling. Though Mega Man acted cheerful enough about fighting Dr. Wily, Dr. Light knew Mega Man would much rather work in the laboratory. He wondered if stress was getting to Mega Man. Yet, whenever Dr. Light asked if Mega Man wanted to take a break, Mega Man only smiled and insisted that fighting Dr. Wily wasn't really a problem, and not to worry about it (which Dr. Light found impossible).
Mega Man wasn't the only one he worried for—Dr. Light also thought constantly about Proto, whose mind, as always, had been impossible for Dr. Light to guess. After Mitchell Deacon's election, it had just felt so certain that Proto was coming home, or at least giving up crime—yet day after day passed, and Proto remained absent. What Proto was doing or thinking was as inscrutable and mysterious as his carefree smirk.
…Roll wanted to go to some sort of band concert. Admittedly, this was the silliest of Dr. Light worries—for though Dr. Light didn't approve of metal concerts (the humans were dressed rudely and drank too much and did something called 'moshing' which looked entirely too dangerous while the music was far too loud) he could at least appreciate that his was normal problem for any parent to have for their child.
But in addition to worrying about his three children, Dr. Light also found his thoughts preoccupied by Bass, who hadn't been seen since the dreadful fight with Mega Man in the laboratory. Although Dr. Light was not Bass's creator, he felt a paternal protective instinct toward Dr. Wily's son as much as he did his own. Dr. Light wished there was some way to reach out to Bass, to at least check if he was okay—but wherever Bass and Treble had gone, they had pretty much vanished like ghosts into the night. If Bass had gone back to Dr. Wily, Dr. Light could at least be assured that Bass was somewhere safe, but he had a feeling Bass's disgust in Dr. Wily ran too deep and Bass had instead gone rogue. Going rogue was dangerous for a robot, and though Bass had proved himself a formidable fighter, he was still very young, and powered by green alien energy that neither Bass nor anyone knew much about, the same alien energy that had destroyed Snake Man's body…
His thoughts unconsciously lingering on Bass most of all, Dr. Light looked out the window at the falling snow. It would be another long, cold night out there.
Bass had decided to move to New York City's criminal underground. Though hanging around New York City was far from his first choice (it was too close to Dr. Light's laboratory and Mega Man) he still needed robot supplies from time to time, and he could find them here with less questions. Besides, it was one of the last places Dr. Wily or anybody would look for him. After all, why would Bass settle so close to his creator's worst enemies?
—Not that Bass actually minded Dr. Light that much. Dr. Light had seemed alright.
…Mega Man was a completely different story.
Naturally, the underground was filled with criminals of all sorts, from dangerous to conniving to opportunistic—Bass wasn't much bothered by this, he could take on anything—still, he needed to keep his human cover and not draw attention. He knew it was possible he could run into Dr. Wily here—but so far he hadn't.
He had made his hideout inside the top of a clock tower. It and the building it was attached to were built in the Gothic revival style, imitating more impressive buildings in Europe, but had suffered a fire thirty years prior and had become condemned. If it had been located anywhere outside of the underground, it probably would have been demolished already to make way for a condominium or mall. Instead, its windows were boarded up and covered in thirty years of graffiti while tattered yellow warning tape crisscrossed the entrances.
Bass wasn't sure why he had been drawn to an old clocktower—perhaps it was the reptilian gargoyles perched on its edges, or the crumbling, half-charred gray bricks, or the fact that it looked extremely haunted. Whatever the reason, it just felt like it would make a cool hideout.
Besides, it would be difficult for anyone who wasn't a robot or at least had wings to get into the tower, for the spiral wooden steps were mostly rotten or burned away. The room at the top was square, and each side had a large clock face with Roman numerals, their hands rusted solid at different times, the eastern face missing a minute hand. These clock faces acted as dirty windows that commanded an impressive view of the underground. They'd have no visitors except for the bats (who lived in the steepled roof), rats (who lived in the wall) and pigeons (who liked to perch on the stone gargoyles outside and coo). Animals never seemed to mind Bass and Treble—though they kept their distance.
It was cold and drafty, the December winds blowing straight through the gaps in the bricks—but Bass didn't mind. He would fix this place up and make it a proper hideout for a pair of rogue robots. In the meantime, he could curl up next to Treble on the creaking floorboards, content that he had completely disappeared off everyone's radar and would soon be doing what he wanted.
As Bass explored the underground while dressed as a human, he came across a shop that specialized in cosmetic alterations on rogue androids which caught his attention.
They turned him away at the door. "Beat it, human! Androids only!"
"What is this place?" Bass asked curiously, looking past the android owner to the dimly lit inside, which looked like a cross between a grungy hair salon and an oily car detailing shop. To his own android's eye, he didn't think any of the androids here actually looked human—though he supposed they might fool a human. They appeared to be domestic and service drones that had gone rogue and were trying to make new identities for themselves.
"A place where your kind isn't allowed, so scram!" one of the rogue androids told him. "You're not fooling anyone with those red Halloween contacts!"
"Yeah, if you're not a robot, get out," chimed in another, branding a pair of sheers at him.
"Though you could use a haircut," sneered a third.
Bass withdrew from the shop, tightening his hood over his goofy hairstyle that reminded him of Dr. Wily. They couldn't tell he was a robot. Bass was surprised, but didn't want to argue. Instead, he circled around back and quietly stole from their supplies—clippers, a grade of bleach that worked on synthetic hair, and a type of ink that worked on silicon skin—he had gotten an idea to make pretending to be human more bearable.
He returned back to his clocktower hideout, dumping the supplies on a workbench. While Treble watched with bemusement, Bass pondered his wild mane of black hair in a cracked mirror, clippers in one hand, the bottle of bleach in the other, before going on the attack.
He shaved away the sides, but left the top sections long, which he bleached white and swept forward over his widow's peak and right eye, all the while thinking back to the posters of human metal bands he had seen at the store he had stolen his clothing from. Then he took the silicon ink and drew two purple stripes that stretched from his lower lids to his jawbone, the effect looking like tattoos.
An hour later, Bass scrutinized his new reflection. Then, to his own surprise, he smiled, feeling for the first time that he looked like himself—despite still looking human.
…Things had become a little tense in Dr. Wily's laboratory.
Dr. Wily was still furious that he had not only lost Bass, but also the source of alien energy that had given Hellrazor such extraordinary powers. Proto Man was unimpressed with Dr. Wily's apparent lack of planning.
"Admit it, you're spending all your time with that new machine of yours instead of focusing on new world conquest schemes," Proto Man had pointed out one day when he went to check up on Dr. Wily.
"It's the Global Extraterrestrial Radiation Scanner!" snapped Dr. Wily. He had been sitting in a wing-back swivel chair in front of the massive apparatus, watching its data feed with the same rapt attention he usually reserved for spying on Dr. Light. The topographical map, which had shown a flashing purple dot when the scanner had first detected Hellrazor, had been blank ever since. "And so what, you spend all your time with silly little jets."
"Uh, no offense, but jets are more interesting than staring at a boring, unchanging computer feed all day."
"What?! This is not boring, this is groundbreaking science! You just wait! I can feel it in my bones we will have another chance with alien energy—like a voice calling to me in the night!"
"Don't need to hear about the voices in your head, Doc."
Dr. Wily shot Proto Man a dirty, wounded look. "You could be more helpful, Proto."
"What, me? Find Bass? Chh, I could, Doc, but I gotta warn ya, I'd probably kill him. What we really need is a scheme to get us some cash—we're a little low around here."
"What I really need is a second-in-command with a better attitude," harrumphed Dr. Wily, swiveling his chair around so its back faced Proto Man.
"Aw, don't be that way, Doc!" Proto Man wheedled to the chair back. "Yeah, I'm not crazy about how you somehow brought Snake Man back from the dead as Bass, and sure I've been spending most of my time flying around in jets instead of hanging out here—but we're still a team! No one in the world comes up with such astounding, physics-defying schemes like you do—you're the world's greatest criminal mind! Master of mad science! With brilliance like that, you don't need Bass or alien energy, just your own unique brand of evil genius. You come up with an idea, and I'll be there! …Just so long as it involves lots of action. You know I like action."
…Slowly, Dr. Wily swiveled around to face Proto Man. He was grinning toothily—the flattery had worked, as it always did with Dr. Wily. "Patience…" he said soothingly. "What the future has in store will captivate everyone's interest—even yours."
"Can't wait," Proto Man responded with a smile, indulging Dr. Wily.
Dr. Wily let out a rippling cackle. "The world will be mine, and together we'll put an end to the blue dweeb's meddling career in heroics forever!"
"Y-yeah," Proto Man put in half-heartedly. While placating Dr. Wily's ego, he had somehow forgotten that the primary motivators for Dr. Wily's schemes were either destroying Dr. Light's reputation or Mega Man. "But no need to rush! Like you said, genius takes time—haste makes waste and all that."
Still, days passed with no sign of alien energy or Bass. Most of the Robot Masters in the armory did not mind—they hadn't liked searching for Bass, and were glad for a break to train or play games instead of getting trashed by an angry bomber-robot who was supposed to be on their side.
Late one morning, Top Man knocked on the door frame that led into the western hanger. There was no reply. He cast a quick look around the space, which was cavernous, with a curved ceiling over various parked aircraft and their various aircraft supplies. Assuming no one was here, he was about to leave, when he spotted Elec Man slumped head down over a drafting table, a pen clutched in his hand, looking as though he had spontaneously powered down while working.
Top Man raced to Elec Man's side and began shaking his shoulder gently. "Hey. Hey. Are you alright?"
Elec Man's eyes slid blearily open. He blinked rapidly, then sat up straight with a scowl. "Shit. Not again…"
"…Again?"
Elec Man rubbed his eyes through his helmet's harlequin mask. "It's that sleeping virus I got from Magic Man's card while we trying to capture Brain Bot in Las Vegas. Wily's stupid antivirus was never truly effective—no matter how much I run it, the virus keeps coming back…periodically."
"So you're even more like me now!" Top Man said happily. "Centum programmed me to sleep periodically too to be more human—you're my prototype, perhaps he would have eventually done the same for you. The virus must have activated a sub-routine."
Elec Man sighed. "It's a nuisance. It cuts into my productivity."
"You'd feel better about it if you had a bed. I bet Proto Man would get you one—"
"Don't tell Proto Man," Elec Man cut in sharply. "—Or anyone. It's embarrassing."
"But Proto Man sleeps!"
"I'm not acting any more human than I have to. I'm a robot, not a human."
"You sound like Proto Man," Top Man pointed out, repressing a laugh. He looked around. "Where is Proto Man?"
"…Still sleeping, probably," Elec Man responded in a dull, grudging voice.
Top Man nodded, then looked over at a nearby jet fighter that was parked in front of Elec Man's drafting desk.
"So, this is the jet you and Proto Man have been working on. What's her name?"
"Doesn't have one. It's a prototype, part of a fleet." Elec Man gestured around the hangar—there were currently eight fighter jets, some with seats configured side by side, others in a row, their cockpits small and claustrophobic—their designs beautiful, one-of-a-kind.
Top Man admired the jet's almost mirror-like silver finish and sleek design. "You should call her the Lightning Bomber."
"…No."
Despite the dryness of his remarks, Elec Man stood up and stretched. He appeared fully alert as he gazed with fierce pride at the jet. "It can go mach ten in milliseconds. Only needs five thousand feet of runway. Even the military doesn't build jets like this anymore—changing times, changing tactics." He gave a small, casual shrug.
"So basically the kind of jet only a billionaire could own," put in Top Man as he began walking around the jet.
Elec Man snorted. "They wish."
"You're gone in this for hours sometimes. Where do you go?"
"All over—Asia, South America, Europe…"
"In international territory? Sounds dangerous."
"It is," Elec Man admitted evasively with a rare glint of stubborn recklessness in his eyes. Then he gave a quick cough and changed the subject. "Proto Man specializes in aerodynamics—" Elec Man pointed back to detailed drawings of jet wings and jet body cross sections on his drafting table, "I focus on the insides." Elec Man pointed to complex engineering diagram of electrical and computer systems. "In flight, he's the pilot, I'm the navigator."
Top Man had completed his circle of the jet and had quietly returned to Elec Man's side. While Elec Man had been prattling on about the jet, Top Man had been watching Elec Man. He noticed Elec Man's eyes seemed less cold as he talked about the jet—or more accurately, less of the forbidding gangster front, and more human.
"I like seeing you like this," Top Man said aloud.
Elec Man stiffened. "…What do you mean?"
"Inventing. You seem…happy?"
"Oh." Elec Man shrugged.
"Centum must be an inventor too."
"Yes, I suppose that's true," Elec Man said neutrally, but Top Man knew he was pleased.
"Still, you've been missing out on a lot of stuff going on in the armory," Top Man told him. "For example, Gemini Man and Star Man are together."
"Good for them." Elec Man's tone was completely indifferent—Top Man knew Elec Man had absolutely no interest in the personal lives of the other Robot Masters (or anything that went on in the armory for that matter), yet Elec Man paused, then frowned at Top Man, suspicious of this clumsy segue. "…Are you interested in anyone?"
"Are you asking out of big brother protectiveness, or protecting what you consider standards for one of Centum's Robot Masters?"
"They are both the same in my mind."
"No one here. Or anywhere…probably. Though an attractive rebel android, state of the art, and who just so happens to be built by the acclaimed Dr. Light would certainly fit even the loftiest of standards," Top Man added, giving Elec Man a sly wink.
Elec Man wrinkled his nose. "What kind of sleazy look was that? That's not how you got Roll's campus ID card at Light University, was it? As well as numerous other girls? There are more eloquent ways to stay single, you know."
"…What? I—that's not—I'm not—heh heh—" Top Man faltered, his smile vanishing. He didn't want to dredge up Light University again, it was a long time ago and he wasn't sure if Proto Man had ever really forgiven him for accidentally flirting with Roll (let alone had any knowledge that Roll had actually kissed Top Man!) "Forget about me—what I'm trying to say is, well—you and Proto Man are friends, right?"
Elec Man gave Top Man a flat, unimpressed look, as if to say he knew what Top Man was doing and it wouldn't work. He picked up a welding tool, draped a clean shop towel over his shoulder, and began working inside a panel on the underbelly of the jet.
Top Man followed him to the jet. "You know, if you ever want to talk about anything—"
"No."
"It's just, Proto Man is charming, cool, uh, good-looking, I guess?"
Elec Man rolled his eyes, his back still to Top Man. "You sound like an old person."
"Why do I even bother," Top Man muttered to himself, giving up. "Alright, you don't have to explain what's going on between you two—apparently it's none of my business, but I'm jealous."
Elec Man stiffened, then turned slowly to Top Man. His face, which had been unreadable, softened slightly. "I thought you had lots of friends—all the other Robot Masters." Elec Man gestured with the welding tool toward the door that led to the armory.
"I do, but…" Top Man hesitated. "I'm not really close to any of them."
Elec Man hesitated, looking guilty and unsure what to say. "Top Man," he said finally. "Look, I'm…I'm…I'm not good with sentiments, but…if you ever wanted to talk—"
Top Man started, but smiled at Elec Man in amusement. "Thanks, I appreciate it, really—and you don't give yourself enough credit! But I'm alright, really! Besides, I can see you're busy as usual."
"I'll make time. Anytime." Again, Elec Man hesitated, then added, "Want to come flying? Just you and me. We can go anywhere you want—"
"What, in an experimental jet? Heh heh no offense but no thanks. Personally, I think you're both out of your minds," Top Man laughed, backing away. "Actually, I'm gunna head back to the armory, I just remembered Ring Man is setting up a new ping pong table he stole yesterday, and I don't mean to brag, but I've got a mean 'topspin', heh," he added, pretending to laugh again, but clumsily bumping into a tank of jet engine fuel.
Avoiding Elec Man's piercing gaze, Top Man hastily retreated from the hangar.
Elec Man watched Top Man leave pensively, then banged his head against the jet, sighing. Top Man was so much worse at lying and deflecting than Elec Man or any other of Centum's Robot Masters. He seemed down—and Elec Man thought he knew why. Being a criminal rogue robot was not a life Top Man had chosen nor liked. Before coming to Skull Fortress, Top Man had pretended to be human for the first few months of his life while working for the Syndicate. Strangely, Elec Man thought Top Man would actually prefer to be human over being a robot (even if it meant trading all of his robotic abilities and productivity for sleeping every night!) Naturally, this wasn't something Top Man wanted to talk to Elec Man about, and perhaps made him feel a bit isolated from the other Robot Masters at times, despite whatever cheerful facade Top Man put on.
Three weeks had passed since Hellrazor's attack on Los Angeles. For the third time that month, Mega Man and Roll walked together through New York City's aquarium, which was crowded with tourists peering into teal-tinted glass tanks filled with schools of fish. The floors near the entrance were slushy from all the snow that had been trampled inside. No one recognized Roll or Mega Man, who were dressed casually—Roll wearing a purple puffer vest over a flannel shirt, Mega Man a navy turtleneck.
Roll leaned over a tank to inspect several bristle worms weaving in and out of metamorphic rocks under a blacklight.
"Cute but creepy!" she said to Mega Man, her head close to the glass.
"Yeah," Mega Man agreed, somewhat distracted.
Roll glanced over at Mega Man from the corner of her eye. "Hey…you've been quiet again today. Still feeling down?" she asked kindly.
"Not down, exactly…" Mega Man admitted. He hesitated, glancing around to make sure the nearest tourist wouldn't be able to overhear them (not that there was much chance of this, the aquarium was extremely noisy). "Do you remember, back at Red Gulch, that Dr. Cossack said I had a trace sample of evil energy in me? I wonder if that's the reason I was having nightmares."
Roll stood up. "That's…not good," she said slowly, frowning at him. Then, more reasonably, she added, "Dr. Cossack also said your evil energy wasn't active. But…perhaps you become sensitive if there are other sources of evil energy around, like Hellrazor?"
"Yeah, maybe."
Mega Man turned his back on Roll, pretending to be interested in a small tank filled with shrimp scuttling over bits of driftwood.
"At least you stopped having the nightmares, right?" Roll added encouragingly.
"Yeah, I did." Though Mega Man still felt uneasy. What he hadn't told Roll or anyone was the shadowy figure from his nightmares may have been himself all along, and it didn't help to know that evil energy was what had caused that mechanical monster to go berserk in Los Angeles. The only consolation was that Mega Man hadn't really been dreaming about an evil Proto Man—but it was only a small consolation.
"I get why you're worried," Roll told Mega Man. "It must feel so creepy! Though, look at it this way—evil energy's not exactly common. We've only encountered it a few times, and now that Hellrazor's gone, everything's back to normal. But if you do start having nightmares again, we'll know why—sorta like an early detection system."
Mega Man brightened a little. He hadn't thought of it this way. "Yeah, you're right—let's just hope we're done with evil energy for good!"
Feeling better, he joined Roll next to a large circular tank to watch brightly colored saltwater fish flit in and out of a coral reef.
It had been almost two years since Jewel Man had last committed a crime. He had cleaned up his act.
…At least, that was what Jewel Man liked to tell himself. He had once been a very skilled jewel thief, and thought constantly of gemstones—their luster, their cuts, their color, their clarity…
He now worked in a small, upscale jewelry shop called the Roquat Jewelers in New York City. It was a sophisticated job, and he played the part well as Mr. Lytton, an ordinary human jeweler—working for human bosses, helping humans select the right style and gem to best compliment their features or woe their special someone, acting as artisan lapidarist and expert jewel setter for the finest trinkets a human could fancy—
Yes, it paid the bills, and the work was legitimate (or as legitimate as it could be when a rogue android illegally posed as a human) but the truth was that the job had become a bother. Between rich brainless humans who ogled at the cases without a clue what they were looking at and the shop getting robbed every other week, Jewel Man had had enough of it. He'd much prefer if the shop didn't sell its jewelry at all; he didn't think any of the humans properly appreciated his works as they smudged them up with their greasy hands. He'd prefer that the jewelry remain in glass cases on display rather than be paraded about where it could get dirty or lost. Yet, what alternative did an ex-jewel thief and rogue android have?
It was night. Jewel Man had just finished closing, the glass display cases freshly polished for the following day, which was sure to be just as busy with holiday shoppers. Jewel Man contemplated himself in one of the mirrors that sat on the counter for humans to look in while they tried on jewelry. He had wavy light brown hair that swooped forward and to the side of his forehead. His lavender eyes had been an unconventional choice—human customers commented on them all the time, yet none of them had ever suspected he was an android. He smoothed out his gray suit, adjusted his silk tie, sighed, then turned his back to his reflection. Just another draining day in the endless grind.
Then his eyes fell upon something unexpected …What's this? he thought.
There was a package on the counter. It hadn't been there before—he surely would have noticed it while he was cleaning. Jewel Man crept quietly toward the package, suspicious. The return address was for someplace called the Moonstone Emporium—a gemstone supplier, perhaps.
…He should inform Mr. Beaumont, his manager, of an unexpected shipment, especially one from a supplier—but then again, who would be the wiser if the human didn't know? Besides, Jewel Man noticed with increased astonishment, the package was addressed to his human name—Mr. Lytton.
Jewel Man opened the package, then grimaced. It was full of packing peanuts. Digging through these, he found a small leather case. It felt heavy. Jewel Man opened the case, then gasped.
Inside on a cushion of velvet was a beautifully carved gemstone the size of an almond.
Snapping the lid shut, Jewel Man glanced surreptitiously around the jewelry shop. The package had no note, only packing peanuts and the gemstone. It was simply preposterous that someone would risk sending such a treasure through the mail! Yet here it was, in a package addressed to him.
Opening the case again, Jewel Man looked closer at the gemstone. It was quite unlike anything he had ever seen before. Instead of sparkling like most jewels, it seemed to suck out the overhead light rather than reflect it. Yet, something flickered inside like an inner light, something purple…
Intrigued and excited, Jewel Man slipped on a pair of white cotton gloves, plucked the gemstone from its case, and held it up to his jeweler's loupe for a closer look, marveling at the cut.
Then, quite suddenly, the gemstone grew painfully hot—too hot even for an android. With a shout, Jewel Man dropped it back into its case. Pain had shot up through his arm and into his power core. What sort of trick was this? The gemstone was no longer a gemstone—but a hunk of rusty brown glass, meanwhile his chest felt on fire.
"Hey there," said a sly, slippery voice. It sounded like it was coming from just behind him.
"Who's there?" demanded Jewel Man, whipping around. But there was no one but himself and the glass jewelry cases. He clutched at his chest, panting a little. The shop was locked down, bars in front of the windows—even an experienced burglar would have had difficulty breaking in without tripping an alarm. He took a step toward the front desk's phone to call the police, then stumbled, falling against a display case. The burning sensation in his chest had dulled to a gnawing ache, though he felt incredibly weak.
"Oh, don't worry about little ol' me!" replied the voice cheerfully. "I have a job for a bot of your skill."
"W-what?" Jewel Man stammered helplessly, for despite hearing the voice he was certain he was alone. His eyes raked the jewelry shop. Then, he saw it, reflected in one of the cases—some sort of circular shadow with an outline of an eye, looking out at him.
"You see, I need you to get me a gem," the voice continued. "You'll find nothing else on earth like it."
A ghost-like projection materialized in front of Jewel Man—a magnificent crystal of fiery orange with eight yellow points radiating out from it, a cyan light shimmering from its inner depths. Entranced, Jewel Man held out an arm toward the projection—but it faded in his fingers.
"It's called a 'Sun Crystal', and it's carried by some little brat who calls herself 'Mega Girl.'"
Jewel Man gulped as he took in the strange quest, steadying himself. He glanced around the jewelry shop, which he was supposed to mind if he wanted to keep his job as a human, yet he found himself automatically asking as he rubbed his chest, "H-how do I find her?"
"Easy. Cause trouble with your new powers, and she will find you."
Jewel Man was nodding—then quickly shook his head, wondering what had come over him.
"I've cleaned up my act, put stealing behind me. I have no idea what you are, why you chose me, or what 'powers' you're talking about. Now, go away. Find another jewel thief."
A soft chuckle pattered around the jewelry shop, seeming to echo from every facet of every gemstone. "Pshhh, you're only fooling yourself. How much missing inventory have you blamed on other thieves but has really gone into your own collection? How many times have you swapped out genuine articles with crafty fakes?"
"I…" Jewel Man mumbled feebly, wondering how the voice could possibly know this, "...Am just protecting them. The humans don't appreciate fine jewelry, and robbers just put it on the black market."
The jewelry surrounding him flashed and twinkled, as though winking knowingly at him from their cases.
"You don't have to explain yourself to me! Though I personally love that humans assign value to something so pointless. They're just shiny rocks you can grow in a lab! What's the big deal?" The voice laughed, then became business-like. "Get the Sun Crystal. Don't worry, it'll be worth your while. Along the way, you may find new ways to add to your collection."
"This is absurd."
"Don't be that way! You're miserable here, and you're going to like this new life, trust me."
"I…" Jewel Man shook, raking his hands through his hair. He knew it was futile. The voice had coaxed out his repressed vices, and he found himself compelled to obey his new master. "Alright. I'll do it."
"Great. You're going to do great! You may not consider yourself a powerful Robot Master…but that was before me, heh."
To be continued…