Thursday, April 9, 2015

'Steel Nightmare' Chapter 5- Old World Blues

The very first thing the faux sergeant told X after being instructed over the phone to tell the reploid everything, was that the NSA only monitored a handful of the old Robot Master facilities and sites. "There's nuclear missile silos under a couple of them, and five top secret DOD facilities that Wily just took over back in the day," he told X. "The DOD gave the NSA jurisdiction over those zones. They're monitored a lot more closely than the others, which are mostly being recovered finally."
X felt a rush of relief at all of this. No grand conspiracy here, at least, not one he had to worry about. Just human governments being secretive, and that was about as normal as the sky being blue. He could handle this.
However, a new problem presented itself with the news of Skull Man's compound having been atop a nuclear silo. If the Maverick who'd killed Torque had done so in order to get inside, there could be trouble. Armed with a nuclear missile, the unknown reploid could do a lot of damage, especially if only one human government knew about its existence.
Realizing all of this, he suspected the reason he'd been cleared to enter was so the United States Department of Defense could scapegoat the Hunters in case the Maverick succeeded in whatever he was planning.
X felt like a fool.
"I'm going in there," X said to the agent in charge, who pulled out a small control switch from his BDUs and pushed a button. The gates opened wide, revealing clearly a painted concrete path to the blocky structure of Skull Man's old zone. "Tell your superiors not to worry. X has everything under control."
He thought he caught a look of guilt in the agent's eyes on his way past.
The doors had been nearly rusted shut, but X shoved them open with a grunt and heave. Inside, the first chamber was a long corridor covered in dusty old plastic reproductions of human bones. His scanners told him most of the corridor had been untouched for over a century.
However, a single set of tread tracks terminated at a transporter pad twenty meters to his left. Someone had been in here, someone or something mechanical. The transporter was an old Wily model, used only for non-organic material. It looked to be on its last legs, but X's deep range scanners told him there was still a little charge left in the device.
Not that he could operate it, though. His internal security drives would negate the device as unrecognized and unwelcome. He wondered if the old mechanoids of Megaman's time had been nearly as sophisticated in design. "Probably not," he muttered to no one.
X marched down the corridor, finding a steel hanging ladder at the end in front of a solid wall. Rather than traverse it, he opened up his cannon, charged it to full power, and blasted a hole right through. Cement and metal flew out, along with sparks and smoke. Something rumbled around him, and X thought he might have blown out a main support structure. "Taking the ladders from here on," he said, walking carefully through the rubble.
On the other side of the hole stood a tall, perfectly square room. Scraps of metal lay everywhere, as well as more of those plastic bones. In the center of the room lay the remains of some sort of giant skeletal cyclops. Half of its head had been blown off, and blaster holes stood in stark contrast along its chest and legs.
"Megaman," X muttered, staring at the construct. "How did you fight things like this, being so small?" X was about to walk past to the bent gate door opposite when an alarm shot through his system. He jumped back quickly to the hole he'd made, as one of the mechanical giant's arms rose shakily from the ground. Plastic bones and debris clattered to the ground as the bot slowly rose to a sitting position. Its lone, baleful eye shone with a virulent purple light.
X started to charge his cannon, but the slow-moving giant lashed out with one of its damaged legs, kicking X and sending him against the wall beside his entrance hole. He yelped as pain ran through his back. The kick itself hadn't done any damage, but his back armor was thinner than the front of his body. He landed in a crouch, cannon charge continuing.
"All right, you heap of scrap," he snarled. "Let's do this!" With a shout, X stood tall and fired the Buster Shot at the cyclops. Its entire upper body and head disintegrated, and the shot dissipated after slamming into the bent gate, knocking it over with a heavy clang.
X walked past the remains, stopping for a moment to stomp on the eye unit that had flown out when the Buster Shot struck.


X walked along another long, high-ceilinged chamber, piles of wreckage everywhere. This, he surmised, was where reclamation crews deposited the waste, scrap and rubble before pulling out upon discovery of the nuclear facility underground. Among the piles, X stopped, looking down at a chunk of familiar blue armor, and the shattered remains of Skull Man.
The scrap of armor looked badly singed, blown off during the original Blue Bomber's fight with the Robot Master. X examined it closely; it was old harsteel, the base material that would later be refined to make transteel. He smirked, marveling that this used to be the top standard. Tucking the scrap away in a sliding leg hatch, X turned his attention to the Skull Man remains.
The head unit, styled after a cartoon rendition of a human skull, was battered badly. Part of the neck cable hung limp from the bottom. X might have simply moved on, but for a single observation. There were scorch marks in the cable, but not from any blaster weapon; they came from the cable, which was torn.
X carefully picked up the head, noticing four deep indentations on the right side of the face plating, and one under the chin shelf. Staring in shock, X felt himself go numb. "You ripped his head off," he rasped to himself. "Dear God, Rock, you ripped his head off."
Every account of the original Megaman's exploits had been clean, clinical, efficient. Never had X read anything to indicate that his predecessor was capable of such savagery.
X let the head roll off of his fingers, clunking to the ground.
The nuclear silo had been partially excavated, X saw as he stood on the edge of the chamber where Megaman and Skull Man had pitched their fatal encounter. He stared down at the ramp leading into the facility, and wondered, momentarily, why Wily hadn't just threatened to use the nuke.
Wily's campaigns of terror had always focused on building Robot Masters in an effort to dominate and enslave the human race. He could well have used a few nuclear warheads to accomplish much the same result, and at a fraction of the cost in money, time and materials. But then, mad scientists were supposed to be inscrutable, weren't they?
X shook his head. There was no sign of anything having been tampered with here. The Skull Man ruins had been unmolested, meaning his Maverick had come here specifically to kill Torque. X didn't like that idea, as it left him with no motive to work off of.
Still, there were all those other restricted zones that had been reported as having strange comings and goings. He opened the command panel on his right arm, keying in his return code to be brought back to his apartment building's rooftop. Whatever was going on, he couldn't investigate it alone.



Detective Jasper Marlow of Central City's Homicide Division looked over his notes in the living room of a plushly adorned apartment. He lived well, though he never made it too obvious. Marlow indulged in his tastes for old world culture largely by way of buying and selling stocks, something he seemed to have a real knack for.
He didn't need to work as a cop, hadn't needed to for a few years now. He was what one might refer to as a 'quiet millionaire', never one to brag or boast about his financial prowess or standing. He did his job because he loved it, and with the cost of many of his old world relics, he'd run out of money well before retirement age without a job.
The television, an early-21st century model flat screen LCD unit, belched out noise from a game of blast ball, a reploid sport that had been gaining popularity over the last couple of decades. It wasn't much different than football, but allowed for the use of non-lethal weapons against the ball carrier and took place on a five-hundred yard field.
With the game droning on unwatched, Marlow tried to make sense of the murder of the deskman at X's apartment building. He'd not handed over everything he knew to the legendary Maverick Hunter X. No, he'd made certain to keep one thing back, a detail that even his own crime scene technicians had overlooked.
While he'd been first viewing the twisted, mangled corpse, dust had sifted down onto his shoulder from the ceiling. Looking up slowly, Jasper Marlow had felt his blood turn to ice in his veins, his eyes locking on more particles of dust drifting down, shaken from movement just behind the vent grille.
Someone had been watching him, someone with enough murderous skill and intent to leave a man butchered in under half a minute.
At the time, he'd wanted to assume it was a reploid or bot, but couldn't discount the idea that the killer was human. Looking over his notes, he still couldn't say with any certainty which it was.

Setting his pen down, Jasper rubbed his temples, deciding that a bath and a nap were in order. He was halfway to the bathroom when the explosion rocked the building.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Steel Nightmare Chapter 4- Testing

The droning of a system alert from his workstation brought X out of his slumber in the charging tube. He felt himself come groggily up over the side, and then he seated himself in his desk chair.
He had an incoming alert message from Hunter HQ. Now he felt himself come fully awake. He opened his communication window, and saw Sherry, a blonde-haired support reploid, looking harried as she locked eyes on X. "Sherry, what's going on?"
"It's Torque," she said in a rush. Tears tracked down her cheeks, reminding X that she, like many reploids these days, had taken on a number of implants and additions to make herself more closely resemble a human. "Sir, he's been killed!"
"What? When? Where is he?" X felt his chest tighten; figuratively speaking, of course. He possessed none of the human-like artificial organs now common to his kind, but he had a spark. This alone allowed him to feel like a human at times.
"It was during his patrol out at one of the restricted zones north of the city, sir. God, I saw the photos, sir! I can't believe it."
"Give me the coordinates," X barked, anger and suspicion warring within him.
"What?"
"The coordinates," X shouted, slamming his hand down on his desk. "Give me the location! I have a transporter pod on the roof here! I'll go and see for myself!" Sherry nodded mutely, sniffling as she click-clacked on her keyboard. The coordinates popped up on X's terminal screen. He took a quick image save on his temporary optic drive and shut off his console, racing to the rooftop.
X stormed up to a flat, circular pad of golden-hued metal on the building's roof. Four shimmering red nodes stood at compass points around a bubbled glass-like surface. As X stepped on the bubble, a holographic control panel appeared before him. He tapped in the coordinates from his optic drive file, wiping the image file as soon as he hit the 'transmit' key.
In a swirl of silvery light, X vanished.

Several soldier-class bots scattered and trained weapons on the silver bolt coming down out of the sky, but as soon as X materialized, their unit commander waved them off. A hulking reploid, he had been modeled on an enormous, purple silverback gorilla. X thought immediately of the ape-like training bots, but dismissed this notion. It had almost put a smile on his face, and that wouldn't be appropriate here.
"Commander X," rumbled the other reploid, standing to attention. "Swing Gollit reporting, sir!" The big man saluted, and X returned the gesture curtly.
"Where is he," X asked, wasting no time. Swing started marching away, looking over his shoulder to respond.
"Over this way about fifty meters. We have no idea what happened, and since the surveillance bots assigned to accompany him are missing, I doubt anything will be forthcoming." X followed Swing silently, jaw clenched tight.
As soon as they came within sight of the mangled metal and wire corpse, X's suspicions were confirmed. Multiple slash and stab wounds, delivered with blades of some unknown material and efficacy. What was left of Torque, a sports-car-themed reploid, looked an awful lot like Fellows's body had the day before.
The wounds were laid out in almost the exact same pattern. Only two major differences stood out. Firstly, Torque's bulbous optics had been torn out of his head, which had been shaped like a mix of a hot rod engine and a face. Secondly, Torque's whole left arm had been sliced clear off of his body and tossed several meters to one side.
"His weapons never discharged," Swing said, crouching down over the dead reploid. "The medical bot says the time between the first blow and the last was probably less than ten seconds. We've got a few in the ranks capable of that kind of speed, sir."
X considered this point, but shook his head, going through the Hunters' roster in his mind. "We do, but none of them use melee weapons capable of punching through grade-3 transteel. Grade-2 maybe, but Torque was one of our best. You're a grade-3 chassis, aren't you, Swing?"
"Yes sir," the simian mechanoid replied, looking down at the body again. "Not many of us upgraded to that yet. You and commander Zero get first crack at the grade-4 stuff if they ever get it down, right?"
"Yes, but development is slow going on it. Other concerns take up too many resources. The moon bases," X said, unable to entirely mask his annoyance. "Anything else the medical bot was able to decipher?"
"Just one thing, sir, and it wasn't the medical bot that found it." Swing stood up and a part of his belly slid outward. He plucked something out, held it up. It was a slender electro-knife, shaped like an assassin's dagger. "It was embedded in one of the stab wounds, sir. I have a deep energy analysis bot coming to collect it."
"Excellent," X said, finally feeling some kind of relief. He was about to ask for the rest of Swing's report when he had a curious notion. "Swing?"
"Sir?"
"You ever hear of something called the Omega Project?" Swing looked up and to one side, rubbing his slack lower jaw in contemplation. After a moment he looked at X and shook his head, somewhat abashed.
"Sorry, sir. I'm not exactly built for smarts. Wrecking Mavs and berserk robots is more my skill set." X just grinned and patted Swing on the shoulder. "Anyhow, we're going to move the body in just a few minutes. The restricted zone here was once used by Dr. Wily's minions. Belonged to a bot called Skull Man."
X looked behind him, over to where there was a break in the fifteen-foot high stone walls that had been erected around the restricted zone over a century before. "Very good. You may carry on, captain."
"Sir," said the other reploid, saluting. X stomped determinedly over to the break in the wall, where high, electrified wire gates stood. Four humans stood in military gear in front of the gate, looking nervous. X could hear their whispered conversation from twenty meters away.
"-know about it as well as I do. There's nothing for it."
"What do we say if he wants to go in? He's got clearance."
"Since when?"
"Order came down this morning," one of the guards said in an authoritative tone. "Now shut up. Here he comes." X stepped up and stood before the guards, all now at attention. "Megaman X, sir," said the ranking guard, the man who'd spoken last. X realized as he looked at them that while he recognized their rank stripes, he couldn't identify their uniforms.
"Sergeant," X said, his brow furrowing. "Tell me, what department are you with?"
"United States Air Force, sir," the sergeant replied.
"What division?" The tall human looked suddenly nervous, and X could see the man's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.
"Human Intelligence Division, sir." X had never heard of any such group within the Department of Defense. He keyed in on the word 'Human', sensing something amiss. Without hesitation, X activated several deep-level audio analysis programs, and continued.
"And who is your commanding officer?"
"Captain Bridges, sir," the sergeant replied. X activated an extra visual scanner relay, and sighed.
"What was your division again?"
"Human Intelligence Division."
"Under which branch?"
"United States Air Force."
"Liar," X snarled, taking a step back. The sergeant blinked rapidly, but he and the other three guards just stood stock still, looking straight ahead. "You're all sweating bullets. Dipthong fluctuations indicate you're lying to me, sergeant, though not about everything. Now, as a Hunter, I am well within my authority to have you all locked up under suspicion of treason. Do you want that?" All four men shook their heads rapidly. X proceeded, now walking up and down their newly formed line. "You aren't lying about everything, though," X said quietly, just loud enough for the four guards to hear him. "Your ranks are relative. None of you is an Airman. The man in charge of you is not a sergeant, though he is the ranking man here. Now, I want someone other than the sergeant to tell me, what is your division?"
"Human Intelligence Division," said the shortest of the guards, a broad-shouldered black man built like a melee fighter. X's programs told him this was true.
"Someone else. What branch?"
"United States Air Force," said another guard, a younger man. There, thought X, is the lie. He wheeled on the young man, looking down into eyes that rattled slightly as the man tried not to blink.
"Name," he snapped.
"Eddings, sir!"
"Rank."
"Airman, sir!"
"Pure lies, both," X rumbled. Now, he thought, it was time to get some real answers. His right arm snapped out, his hand around the human's throat, while his left arm switched to cannon mode in less than the blink of an eye. Yellow light poured forth as he charged the Mega Buster. "Let's try again," X shouted like a madman, giving the terrified, gasping human a leering smile. The other humans, transfixed, stared in horror. "Name!"
"Peter Long," the guard rasped, eyes bulging. "Special Agent Peter Long, NSA!" X tossed the man back with a shove, spinning to aim the cannon at the faux sergeant.
"National Security Agency, hmm? And why, pray tell, would you gentlemen be pretending to be Airmen? Are you not supposed to be here?"
"Look," said the sergeant in a quavering voice. "Let me speak with my field commander, see if he wants me to read you in. Just please, put down the cannon."
"And if I don't," X asked softly, his expression now flat, cold and calculated. The faux sergeant shook his head and coughed.
"Then we get chalked up as imposters, and life moves on. We were instructed to say nothing to you unless pressed. If that happens, and clearly it has, I contact the field officer." X lowered his cannon, his hand ejecting from the port to make him less menacing. He rolled his arms and shoulders, and nodded to the sergeant.
"Contact him. I want to know what's going on here."


Paladin reviewed the report on a console in his private quarters of the base, impressed with Shinobi's detailed style. It was unfortunate that the mechanoid formerly known as Shadow Man had lost one of his blades, but human guards had been on their way to see what Torque's lone shout of alarm had been about.
The surveillance bots had been snatched at the last moment, and for thinking that far ahead in the heat of the moment, Paladin could do naught but praise his kinsman. Still, he worried about this early phase of master Hephaestus's plan. The key to it all lay in making certain none of them directly confronted X yet. They each had a part to play, toying with the legendary Maverick Hunter at a distance, leaving him stunned and confused.
Except Paladin himself. Hephaestus had been very clear about that. "You will communicate reports to me directly, though I will not be here," the crimson and white mechanoid had told him in the transporter room after their initial group meeting. "You will use the comm link in your chambers. I will be overseeing another project for much of the first phase. While I am away, you are in command. The others already know this."
And then Hephaestus had teleported away, leaving Paladin alone in the transporter room with its panels and displays. Shinobi's part in the first phase was now over. Orbous, formerly Crystal Man, oversaw the task of spying on X and the Hunter Organization; for now, he would do nothing.
Orbous, who looked like a cross between an arachnid and a man made of green metal, a single dome of shining glass-like material on his belly. He looked almost ridiculous compared to the futuristic ninja, Shinobi. But Orbous had been granted abilities that made him quite dangerous. He could command any standard bot within a ten mile radius, if they had no spark.
Paladin had just finished sending Shinobi's second report when he began his ruminations. Poseidon would be the next to play out his bit in phase one. Once Dive Man, the aquatic Robot Master now looked like a shark-like lycanthrope, his mouth lined with jagged, shining metal teeth. Each one was filled with a ballistic charge, and could destroy grade-3 transteel on impact.
After Poseidon's part would come the final part of phase one. The largest and strongest of their number, Titan, would start the final act, joined by Twim and Thrash. They had been, respectively, Guts Man, Gemini Man, and Quick Man, as Robot Masters. Of them all, only Titan and Paladin bore close resemblances in any way to their old bodies.
Caretaker, however, had gone with Hephaestus to the other project. Once the Robot Master Junk Man, the tall, sallow mechanoid had been given a new body fashioned after some sort of mechanical zombie or Frankenstein's Monster. His head unit resembled a desiccated human skull with synthskin stretched over the left half of the face plating. He was, in a word, ghoulish.
Hephaestus had sent Caretaker ahead immediately after that first meeting. Paladin wanted to hold another one, but would have to wait until Caretaker returned and all the others were present. It wouldn't do to have to repeat himself or lose out on possible conversation.
For now, he decided, he would meet with them all individually. Exiting his private quarters (tailored to resemble those of a Victorian lordship), Paladin made his way down a set of hallways until he stood outside of Orbous's door. Slate gray and utilitarian, the door slid open at the touch of a panel.
Inside the primary chamber, two whole walls were devoted entirely to monitors and control panels. Orbous sat on a rolling swivel chair, his multifaceted eyes peering in every direction at once. "Paladin, what brings you by," Orbous hissed. Even his voice made Paladin think of spiders.
"I wish to speak with you," he said, locating a second rolling chair and bringing it over toward Orbous. "See how you're adjusting."
Orbous turned his head toward Paladin, and the mechninoid warrior could feel every lens in those oversized eyes scrutinizing him. Angled mandibles clacked together rapidly, then went still, opened apart in front of the mouth proper. "I could be doing much worse, actually. This body has taken some getting used to, but I've had nearly six months to adjust. How about yourself?"
"I seem to be doing fine," Paladin replied, shifting so that his right arm was cocked out, palm on knee. His left forearm lay across his thighs, and he shook his head. "This body is much larger than my Knight Man chassis. But it’s also more powerful and flexible. I don't feel so rigid."
"Yes, I had noticed that about myself right away," said Orbous. He half-turned his head back to the monitors. "I 've been trying to keep an eye on X all morning. I think he's about to investigate the old Skull Man lair."
Paladin looked to the small monitors, but couldn't see which one had X in its sights. Orbous pointed to it, and Paladin flinched. "That's X?"
"Yes. He's rather intimidating at first glance. A lot more direct and unfriendly than his predecessor was. I could almost like him, in fact." Orbous used several dials and pointed to a screen directly in front of Paladin. "Plug into the audio jack." Paladin did so, drawing out a thin silver cord from the right side of his neck, plugging it into an audio port.
Orbous played back X threatening a guard at the gates to the Skull Man ruins. Paladin, thunderstruck, just shook his head slowly. "Unbelievable! This new Megaman is not someone to take lightly."
"No. But the master's plan will leave him feeling quite a lot less confident. He'll see, in those ruins. And he'll see afterwards, when Poseidon's trap is sprung."
Paladin hoped, for all of their sakes, that Orbous was right.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Steel Nightmare Chapter Three- Deepening

Detective Marlow transferred the data X provided him with to a new folder titled 'Sept 14, 2152', and shook his head. Nothing seemed to have advanced much, in his opinion, since the first Labor Bot had been released in 2019. Sure, weapons and defense and even medical technologies had thrived, but the advent of intelligent robots had driven any other technological considerations so deep into the ground that only a mole could get at them. A mole on crack, he thought with a wry grin.
Take the famous reploid standing a few feet away, for example. Marlow didn't like him; it wasn't anything personal. He knew the history of X, like any other human on Earth. But meeting him in person felt no different than meeting any other mechanoid. There was a natural distrust wrapped around his mind of such things.
"I have a couple more questions for you, X," Marlow said, jotting down his question with a pen on a small notebook. X turned to face Marlow, and immediately felt his temper rise to a dangerous level. He didn't like this detective, not a bit. It wasn't anything personal; he was just too much of an anachronism for comfort. The man had arrived in an early-20th century sedan, the kind with no autopilot. Everything about the vehicle was manually operated, except for a gps system to navigate by. He used an old writing implement and notebook instead of a datapad for notation. And a minor detail, but telling to X's deep-ray analysis scanners; the man shaved with an old manual razor, instead of an Auto-Groomer.
Old world and new world met in a front that could spiral into a tornado under the right circumstances. These were not such, but close enough to keep everyone else on the scene well away from the human and the reploid.
"Ask, then," X said, clearly exasperated.
"How well did you know Mr. Fellows?"
"Not well at all," X said evenly, eyes on Marlow's hand as he scribbled on the pad. "I recall seeing him at the desk frequently."
"Mr. X, Mr. Fellows had been working here as a doorman and desk clerk for nine years. You mean to tell me you didn't know him at least a little bit?"
"Not to be rude, but he hardly registers in my memory banks," X huffed. "I've usually been too busy to notice him. Until recently, I rarely even made use of my apartment."
"So, you don't know if anyone might've wanted to harm him?"
"No, I don't. I know only his name, the fact that he worked the desk, and that he was apparently killed in a horrible fashion."
"You can say that again," chimed in the middle-aged medical examiner. Of course, middle-aged nowadays meant mid-to-late sixties; the average human life expectancy in 2152 was 140 to 150 years. "The shallow slashes came first, then the stab wounds to the major nerves. The bleeding from his throat finished him off, but he took a few minutes to die. My scanner says he bled out before he could drown on his own blood, but only by a minute or so. This man died badly."
X and Marlow looked each other in the eyes silently for a moment. Whoever had done this had been absolutely ruthless. Both men were now wondering who could possibly be so cruel, and how they had managed to disable the cameras in the lobby before killing Andrew Fellows.
When detective Marlow left, he had a sneaking suspicion a Maverick was finally active again, and that X and his organization had dropped the ball.


X, watching the detective leave, suspected the humans had a new psychotic on their hands, and that they had been the ones to mess things up. Each man was wrong, and only time would tell them how.
X tried not to think about the scene down in the lobby, but even as he pulled up his personal archives, his mind wandered back to the body. Fellows had been butchered, that much was plain. That such meticulous wounds had been delivered in a frenzy was out of range, though. He realized that now.
Each slash and stab had been crippling and clean. His own on-board analysis programs told him each wound had been delivered in less than a second. The whole attack had lasted maybe ten seconds.
No human was that fast, even with two knives.
So, a bot. A malfunctioning service bot, perhaps, but only the soldier-class ones would know how to wield weapons like that. Soldier-class bots all stayed on their assigned bases, though. Even malfunctioning ones could not leave their assigned zones.
Worker bots didn't have enough finesse for this either, he thought. That left only one possibility for X; a Maverick. There were over six-thousand reploids in Central City. Any one of them could have gone rogue. But of those six-thousand, only five-hundred were combat-readied. Of those, three-hundred and twelve were Hunters.
The remainder worked for law enforcement agencies. X shook his head, deciding to leave that trail go for the time being. He wasn't a cop. Until the local authorities could confirm the presence of a Maverick, he would not get involved.
So X used his home console to enter the restricted zone coordinates from Veris's gathered reports. The system immediately spat back information files, and he opened the first three.
The first one said 'Bubble Man Zone', and what followed was a description of a kind of half-submerged operations base. At the end of the report, the words "Wily Campaign 2. Summarily defeated by Megaman. Closed off for eventual recovery.'
X blinked numbly at the screen. He moved on to the second report. 'Gemini Man Zone', ending with "Wily Campaign 3. Summarily defeated by Megaman and Rush. Closed off for condemnation and recovery." The third one was the same, but for "Crystal Man Zone".
X didn't even have to go through the rest of the reports to figure out what he thought might be going on. Instead, he shut down his archive system, looked out of his window to the darkened city, and decided it was time to finally have a talk with his predecessor.
"Time to see you, Megaman," he whispered.



"You must submit to weapons lockdown, sir," the camouflaged, tank-like reploid said sternly. An exact twin of the heavy mechanoid stood to X's left, a giant turret cannon on its shoulder aimed squarely at his head. "There are no exceptions," the first one was saying.
X had expected high security at the Light Complex, but this seemed ridiculous. He and Zero were the senior most Hunters, for God'd sakes! Why would either of them cause trouble? With a sigh, he held out his left arm. The first heavy-duty reploid clamped a silvery ring device on it, and turned a key on the top, pulling it out.
"Sorry, sir. It's policy," the big man said in a humbled, almost ashamed, tone.
"It's okay," said X gently. "You're doing your duty. I commend you both." Even the silent twin looked away at that, and the meshed gates slid silently open for him. X stalked quickly inside the building.
The entrance chamber was a sprawling museum of sorts to Dr. Light and his achievements, the last of which was the design and initial stages of building Megaman X. X looked at the schematics of himself on a holographic display, and shuddered. He'd been so underpowered at first, it was a wonder he wasn't dead.
Curiously, there was no such display for Zero. X made a mental note of this, then passed into a long, narrow corridor filled on either side with enlarged photos of his predecessor, Megaman. Originally a young man in a mechanized suit, Rock had been forced to be fused into the suit over the course of his third and fourth campaigns against Dr. Wily, due to injuries sustained in battles. The last photo on the right before the hallway ended in a set of imposing black metal doors showed a weary Rock lying on a surgical table.
Under the framed photo was a digital reader, which X scanned through. It was a report/essay written by Dr. Light, talking about the very final procedure Rock had, the transfer of his brain and spinal cord into a brand new suit after his sixth campaign against Wily. Light delved into the philosophical throughout the paper, which was a rare departure for the esteemed roboticist.
Yet the project had paved the way for the advent of the reploid race. Shortly after Rock's eighth war against Wily and his robots, Light discovered in the wreckage of a recovered Robot Master something he called 'The Spark', a form of energy previously unidentified. In essence, Thomas Light had discovered the artificial soul of all sentient mechanoids.
A cult-like group of human scientists began studying spark phenomena shortly after Light's death in 2055. Reploids began making their appearance throughout the world three years later.
X shook off these thoughts and pushed through the black doors into a surprisingly normal-sized lounge of some sort. There were three plush leather couches in the center of the room, arranged in an incomplete square. Dominating the left wall was an enormous flat screen monitor. X felt a floor panel click under his feet as he looked right, spotting an open bathroom and a small dining area.
The screen on his left flickered to life, showing a maintenance chamber. Standing in the middle of the screen, tall and pale blue, was a smiling Megaman. Speakers hidden around the room crackled to life. "Well, I was starting to think you'd never visit," Megaman said with a smirk. X stared in wide wonder at the screen, squaring himself to face his predecessor.
"Sir, it is an honor," X said, snapping off a smart salute. Megaman returned the gesture.
"Have a seat," Megaman said, and X did, directly across from him. "So, I imagine you have a lot of questions."
"I'm sorry, I do, but it's taking me a moment to get used to this. Um, how are you in there? Your brain was organic."
"Dr. Light was able to use a brain scan to copy my thoughts and brainwave activity," Megaman said. "He then installed a miniature scanner in my helmet to record everything. I'm Rock, but I'm also not. My organic brain died back in 2061."
"Oh," said X quietly. "Then, your personality?"
"Dr. Tenkian, chairman of the Spark Research Council, was able to find what he called a 'Blank Spark' to install into this network. I have a spark, same as you."
"Ah, I see. This is all very confusing," X admitted.
"Tell me about it," Megaman replied wryly. "So, what did you want to know?"
"Okay, I suppose my first question is this; when you defeated Wily's Robot Masters, how did you absorb their weapon programs?" There was a pause as the scene on the monitor changed. Megaman was suddenly standing in a large power generator room, on the left side of the screen. Duct work and power panels lay broken, live wires slapping about everywhere. On the right side of the screen, crouched down, was a wounded robot with a stylized lightning bolt for a faceplate; Elecman.
Megaman's voice spoke from the speakers. "The program operation wasn't difficult. When I fired the final shot," Megaman said, as his representation on-screen fired a white power bullet at Elecman. The spheroid struck, and Elecman was thrown back, clouds of smoke and bits and pieces of metal frame flying apart. "My cannon immediately turned back into a hand. Then, the absorbing program began running."
X watched as Megaman stalked up to the downed Robot Master, opening a panel on his arm. He pulled out a connection cord, and pried open the side of Elecman's head unit. He plugged the cord in, and flashed twice with a red energy. "The cannon adapted the Robot Master's attack into a form I could use."
X contemplated the image before him as it began to fade, replaced by the previous view with one exception. Megaman was now seated in a tall-backed leather chair. "That's a little different than my own cannon. Mine absorbs latent energy from Mavericks' weapons systems throughout battle and reconfigures it to mimic their attacks."
"I know," said Megaman. "I have access to all but a dozen or so systems in the Hunter Organization. Those ones I can't get into employ some extremely potent defense setups. I can similarly access any civilian or external network if they're open and running defenses I can work through. There are plenty that I can't, and I don't do it often. But I do get bored in here sometimes."
"Are you aware of time passing?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Megaman said with a sigh, folding his arms over his chest. "I frequently turn off the internal clock on my primary drive so that I don't get antsy or bored. Now, anything else?"
X looked away for a minute, organizing his thoughts. He lined up several questions in his mind, then proceeded. "Do you know about the murder in my building earlier tonight?"
"Yes. Detective Marlow has already filed his initial report. He suspects a Maverick is on the prowl."
"Okay," said X. "Do you have access to the building's video surveillance logs?"
"Yes," said Megaman. There was a pause, then the screen flickered a moment before settling back to normal. "Sorry, I was retrieving the files for view and analysis."
"Good. Is there any sign of who cut the surveillance feed," X asked. He noticed a moment before, when the screen first came back on after the flicker, a small glitch in the lower-right portion of the screen. It had flashed by in milliseconds, but X knew what he'd seen.
It had been part of a file folder icon, and X had caught sight of the word 'Project' in the title. He would ruminate on that later.
"There is no visual trace of who cut the footage," Megaman said. "However, system readings from the building's security network show that a service panel along the roof was manually unlocked and opened. There's a trace of an access cable being disconnected in the basement core fifteen minutes later."
X blinked rapidly at this information. "Anything else?"
"Yes," said Megaman. "According to the logs, that maintenance panel didn't close again until after detective Marlow had left the scene. Footage from the street lamp across the road shows him leaving, and five minutes later, the access panel closed."
"Then the killer was still there," X breathed. "He was watching us."
"That does seem likely," said Megaman. Another flicker from the screen. X caught sight of the file folder in the bottom right corner of the screen this time; 'Omega Project'. Again, he filed this away for later consideration. "Listen, I'll soon have to go into a sweep mode to check for anomalies. I'm sure you've noticed some issues already with this interface."
"I did," said X evenly. "I didn't want to point it out. Thought it might be rude."
"That's never stopped you before, has it, X?" X grinned guiltily and shook his head. "I can take one last question. Anything you want." X thought for a moment, and decided to indulge one of his most recent curiosities.
"Megaman, I was designed by Dr. Light. Who was Zero first designed by?"
"Ah, yes, I've only been asked that by one other reploid, Zero himself. He visited just before heading to Moon Base 2."
"And?"
"Zero was initially designed by Dr. Franklin Reginald Wily, X." X gasped, staring wide-eyed at the monitor as it began to fade to black. "Your reaction to this information is about the same as Zero's was. Sorry if I've upset you."
And then the screen was dark, and X was left in silence.