Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Monsteropolis. Known to some for its unique hotdogs, known to others for its laughable mens’ football team, but known to many more as one of the global hotspots of human ingenuity and scientific advancements in advanced robotics. It is here in the city of Monsteropolis where history had been written, breakthroughs had been made, and where heroes and villains sleep and wake. Known to some as the “Home of the Robot Master”, mainly due to one prominent leading roboticist known to all as the Father of Modern Robotics, Dr. Thomas Light. Monsteropolis is the home of the good doctor, and the Super Fighting Robot, Megaman. 

The bustling city's downtown lies a few miles away from the suburbs of the major city, and even further from the suburbs and offshoot towns, the Monsterica Mountain Range divides the country and offers quite a peaceful view to its denizens. A little above the foot of one of rolling mountains, a quaint little house and laboratory sits upon a grassy hill, surrounded by verdant deciduous trees. In the front yard, a young girl attached a message to a little blue bird, which, who is now destined with a mission, set off eastward.    

Meanwhile, within the walls of a laboratory, an elderly man sat in front of a monitor, surrounded by smaller, assorted monitors. His fingers danced against a great computer keyboard with a methodical precision. He needed to get this software information organized and filed, then he needed to file a status report on his updated creations for this month, and then after that, he promised that he would spend more time with his ‘children.’ And there is also the Monsteropolis Robotics Ethics Committee press conference on Monday to consider as well… He made a mental note to keep his planner updated for this upcoming week. 

A roboticist’s work was never finished, not that it mattered to Dr. Thomas Light, since he greatly enjoyed his work. To create a robot, from conceptual drafts and blueprints into a fully functioning sentient aid to society, it brought him an unfiltered joy and satisfaction that he could only wish the rest of the world could feel as well. Similar feelings welled up while fixing robots, updating them, and sharing ideas with other roboticists and engineers in the scientific community. Simply put, his interests for robots have always been genuine and pure. He just wished that a certain mad scientist responsible for ten or so wars also had purer intentions for his creations. Unfortunately, for the last handful of years, his former colleague has had a presence that he simply could not ignore.  

Those poor robots, Light thought to himself. To only be used for such malevolent desires… he could only imagine what kind of short lives they would live. Light couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation. All of that creativity, all of that ingenious innovation! It could’ve all been used to help the people and robots as a whole advance, but instead, Wily’s preferred usage is to try for world domination… He couldn’t understand why he felt the need to eliminate both of their creations. You’re already an incredible roboticist, Albert. What is there to prove by trying to take over the world? By taking your ambitions and your grievances far beyond the point of no return?   

He hoped that he would understand one day.   

He hopes every day that Wily would understand one day and stop trying to initiate wars against him and the world. I can’t keep doing this, is what he wants to tell himself… or at least, has for the past three Robot Wars. That, and he wishes that he didn’t have to put Rock through this so many times. Rock seems to be fine by this point, but as a father figure to him, he can't help but wonder sometimes. If only there were another option, though. Light was fully aware that so long as Wily and himself could still build robots, he would still have to send Megaman to combat Doctor Wily for the sake of keeping everlasting peace.  

Light hit the Enter button one last time before he was done organizing the new assortment of software programs and tools for testing in the next few days. Before he continued and began on the status report of his recently renewed creations from the latest war, a soft knock sounded from the farthest end of the lab. “Come in,” Light called out, voice croaky but gentle, before his body lurched forward and racked with ragged coughs. He immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and coughed into it. He turned around to see one of his robotic ‘children’, with a tray in hand. A cup of hot tea, a water bottle, and three pills on a napkin were on the platter.  

“Hi, Doctor Light. I’ve made the tea and brought over the prescription medicine you needed. I’ve also taken care of the house chores today and made sure that Rush got his regular checkup and playtime, too.” The cute robot donned in a red dress addressed to the doctor. She set the tray on a nearby cart next to the monitors.  

Light caught his breath and looked down into his handkerchief. He cursed to himself mentally when he saw wet, red splotches amongst the white fabric. He looked back to the robot, who looked concerned. “Doctor Light? Are you alright?” She asked. It seemed as though she was more focused on him than his handkerchief.  

He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket and smiled gently. “I will be fine, Roll. Thank you very much for bringing this to me and taking care of everything so early. ...So. Has it been hours already?” Light said, chuckling.  

Upon seeing and hearing the doctor’s smile and reassurance, Roll seemed to calm down. She smiled knowingly at her father. “It’s been almost six hours, Doctor. You’re always so busy at work… isn’t it almost time for you to rest for the day?” She asked.  

“Rest? But how can I rest when there is so much to be done?” Light said lightheartedly, but the stern look he was getting from Roll did not falter. “Don’t worry about me, my child. I will rest today, I assure you.” Roll did not change her expression, but she nodded. She passed the water and pills to Light, who reluctantly took them. Their eyes met again and he knew that Roll was a robot who did not give up until he complied. “Alright, alright. I will finish this work first thing in the morning tomorrow.”  

Roll’s face finally brightened. “Oh, phew! Thank goodness that you’re done for the day. For one second, I thought I needed to call Time Man over to tell you the time and remind you to take breaks.”  

“Please, Roll, that’s not necessary. Time is a very busy robot, and to be frank, does not react well to sudden changes in his schedule. I would only hinder his work and mood.” He laughed softly, suppressing the urge to cough in front of Roll. “Please allow me a few minutes to shut down the computers before I join you and Rock upstairs.”  

Roll nodded. “Alright, Doctor Light. I also hope that you feel better soon! I’ll be upstairs cooking dinner.” And with that, she headed back towards the door. Light held his smile for a moment, before turning back to his computer, and coughing more. He hated when his physicians and primary care doctors were right. It seems like he wouldn’t be fighting with Wily for much longer if he keeps coughing up blood like this. He hasn’t found the time yet to tell Rock or Roll of his… physical condition yet. He’s been so busy lately and he needed to find a moment where all three of them weren’t preoccupied with work, errands, and duties. It was important for them to know and it pained him to keep it a secret from them for the time being. He desperately wished he wasn’t sick, especially when there are so many projects to work on, when he had children he didn’t want to worry and let down, let alone keep secrets from. His physical health was only one work in progress he did not want to keep just to himself.   

He reached into his other lab coat pocket, and pulled out something similar to a USB drive. In actuality, it was a small but powerful external hard drive. He inserted it into one of the computer towers underneath the keyboard.  

A small pop-up window emerged, asking for an encryption key and password, which Light typed in hastily. The monitor flickered, before showing a small window with a blank background and a loading bar. And then a black screen, a blinking cursor, and one singular letter at the top of the screen.  

X. |  

Light stared at the lone letter, and took a slow, tired breath. His newest magnum opus, and what may very well become his very last child. He stared at the blinking cursor. He only had basic notes written down in the drop down menu on the screen. He stared at the empty black space… And he didn't know what to type.  

It’s become something of a post-work day ritual as of lately. Doctor Light opens the “X” file, and then sits there for a few minutes, trying to think of something to write and ultimately in the end, only getting a sentence or two out. At least, he knew the basic concepts for this robot’s software design. A robot with the ability to make their own choices, regardless of whether Asimov’s Three Laws come into play or not, a robot that can grow and adapt mentally like a human, a robot that possessed infinite potential. Ever since the most recent war… he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Those robots, his own robots, made the decision to join Wily because they were afraid of being scrapped and only wished to continue serving a purpose to humans… Unbelievable! They possessed a capacity to actively make their own decisions! It was incredible. 

...It was extremely dangerous, as well. He was well aware of the catastrophic consequences that could be brought about, should a robot, a Robot Master in particular, begin to make the active choices to become a threat to humanity. If they wished to harm others for whichever reason. Should a Robot Master decide to follow in someone like Doctor Wily’s steps… But that’s also why they should possess that free will, he argued in his mind. To be able to resist a human’s commands to do evil or harm in the first place! A robot should not be forced to do something that, ultimately in the end, they wouldn’t wish on their own kind, nor something that they truly would not want to do! That young, punkish robot of Wily’s came into Light’s mind briefly. He did not always obey Doctor Wily’s orders, it seemed, but it also seemed like he was an exception compared to the dozens of Robot Masters that Wily has built in the past, or stolen. He took a sip of his warm tea.  

Light closed the program window and extracted the external hard drive, and began to shut off the computers. He could think about this later; he was making his children wait. He slowly got up, and headed into the elevator. Once upstairs, he found Roll was making stew in the kitchen and Rock was flipping through channels on the TV in the living room, trying to find the show that Light suggested they could watch together. His son called him over, and Light smiled.   

It was 10:48pm.  

Light sat at the edge of his bed, and took his regular dose of nightly prescribed medicine. What an unpleasant feeling in his throat. He hated chugging pills everyday.  

Light exhaled and slowly laid down against the pillows on his bed. He was supposed to be asleep about 15 minutes ago, and yet…  

The ability to choose their own fate, to make their own decisions. There were so many risks to consider, should a robot possess this ability. The results could end with the decommissioning and banning of advanced robots altogether, or it could lead to something previously unseen by mankind; something incredible. But if he were to build a robot like this, to say that he would have to be careful would be a severe understatement. A robot with this capability who did NOT abide by Asimov’s Three Laws… the possibilities could literally be endless as to what would happen. Countless risks and yet, one huge step forward in modern robotics and roboethics. It would be revolutionary, but he hoped with all of his heart that it would prove to be beneficial above all else. It would be another step closer to everlasting peace.  

But…  

He couldn’t build X just yet. He couldn’t simply just cross his fingers and hope that everything would work out ideally. He needed more notes; he needed tests first. There was still so little he really knew, despite all his years of work and breakthroughs advancing modern robotics. Something sat in the forefront of his mind. He first needed to know if any advanced robot was capable of making their own decisions, of growing and learning on their own. Was the standard Robot Master capable of this? A small thought bubbled up within his mind.  

...He already knew there was one robot who could. His expression fell and his brows furrowed with sorrowful recognition.  

Blues technically did count, however under normal circumstances, there was no way to communicate with him regularly. He didn’t even know if Blues was remotely interested in repairing their relationship together. Not to mention, he never programmed Asimov’s Three Laws into him. He loves Blues and misses him dearly, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of him, in one sense. And afraid for him as well. He could not rely on Blues for this. He needed a robot which he could supervise.  

He needed to experiment first. He first needs a control group before “X” ultimately becomes his experimental group in this project. Which brought another question to Light’s attention. What robots would he use? Which robots could he use? A list was forming in his mind, and he sat up in bed again. 

Rock and Roll weren’t optimal choices, mainly because of their attachment to him already. He could safely predict what would happen should he give them almost-completely free will. It was likely that they would continue to follow the same routines as they have always done, due to their already-established personalities and commitments. Alternatively, his Industrial Series was out of the question as well. They were almost always needed for work – not to mention the last time he called Elec Man out of work for a project without at least a prior week’s notice, one of the power plant’s robot supervisor yelled at him so much, he swore he could visualize the veins popping in the man’s forehead and the rage-induced constipation, too. A similar scenario has already happened with Fire Man’s worksite staff, as well. And Oil Man’s, too.  

He considered his robots with recently renewed expiration dates, the ones from the Ninth Robot War. But if he pulled them aside for this project, their expiration date renewals would be pointless, and render his current efforts to find them new careers moot. It felt disingenuous and inconsiderate to them, after everything that they just went through. They were not an ideal option either. Dr. Light rubbed his forehead and sighed as the options in his head narrowed down more and more. He needed a Robot Master who was capable, available, and preferably without any attachments to him to begin with. For just a moment, he envied Wily for always having some kind of robot readily available to use at any moment.  

Those poor robots, to only be used for such malevolent desires… he could only imagine what kind of short lives they would live.  

Light stared at the notebook on his bedside nightstand. Wily sure has worked with a lot of robots. It’s a shame that he keeps discarding them whenever Rock defeats them.  

Wait a second. Discarded robots?!  

All of that creativity, all of that ingenious innovation! It could’ve all been used to help the people or help robots as a whole advance…  

Of course! The older generations of Robot Masters from the Robot Wars! Any of them could be an ideal candidate to test for his experiment! He recalled something from before the Third War: while he collaborated with Wily on Project: Gamma, Albert himself said he kept his notes and schematics for his Robot Masters, but had no need to collect the robots themselves! Light reached over for his notepad and mechanical pencil. It touched the paper but he stopped.  

Wait. Hold on. Light’s eyebrows furrowed and his lips tightened. Would this be considered stealing? Wily’s Second Line were his creations and his only. Yes, that is true, he thought, but he also discarded them and has had no intention of reclaiming them since he created them. Those robots are considered abandoned property by now. It would not be stealing. Not only that, but Wily himself isn’t above kidnapping robots, as he’s done so multiple times, more than once with his own Robot Masters. And he also doesn’t have any other ideas for robots to use.  

It’s not stealing, he reassured himself. He was certain of it. He made up his mind on the matter.  

He hastily scribbled some notes onto the notepad and heavily circled one section of it for emphasis. He then reached over to the nightstand again and pulled an address book out of its drawer. He flipped to the back of the book and found what he was looking for. He hesitated, before picking the second number sequence on the list. He reached for the cell phone nearest to him and dialed it. It took but only a moment before a gruff voice spoke from the other line.  

The sounds of loud and noisy construction work came through the call along with the voice. “Hello? Doctor Light? Ain’t it a little late for you to be calling me-- hey, HEY, gimme some space, will ya–? What-- YEAH, I’m calling someone-- shaddap, it’s Doctor Light! Gimme a few and cover my work!” The speaker on the line cleared his throat. “How can I help ya, Doctor?”  

“Hello, Guts Man. I’m sorry to be calling you at such a later hour than normal, but… I’ve got a project that I believe I need your help with tomorrow. Could you please tell your boss as soon as possible that I’ll be needing you and Bomb Man for tomorrow and the next three or four days?” Dr. Light explained to him, before coughing violently.  

“...You don’t sound good, Doc. You okay?”  

“In all honesty, I could be doing better. Roll is helping me recover currently. Is it possible I could see you tomorrow?”  

“Oh, uh, yeah-- yes, definitely. I’ll tell my boss first thing when I finish my work tonight. What kind of project do you need me for, by the way?”  

“I’m going to test a social and ethical experiment with a Robot Master, and I need you to recover the body of this Robot Master for me. Depending on how tomorrow goes, I may need both your help and Bomb Man’s as well.”  

“Recover a Robot Master... Should I ask what ya mean by that?”  

“I need the body of one of Doctor Wily’s eight Robot Masters from the Second Robot War.”  

“Ohhhh, I see now. ‘Wilybots’, huh? This should be interestin’. Don’t worry, Doc. Me and Bomb got your back. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning, ‘k? I’ve gotta cut this short, unfortunately. I think the rest of my crew needs me.” Almost immediately, an audible crash sounded on Guts’ end of the call. “Alright, alright, I’m comin’ over!”  

“Thank you dearly, Guts Man. I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”   

[Booting startup protocols. . . ]  

[DWN02 Operating System initializing. . . Initialization complete. ]  

[DWN02 Operating System loading. . .  ] 

[Downloading DWN02 OS updates. . . Installing DWN02 OS updates. . . DWN02 OS updated.  ]  

[Version 2.009.24 installed. ]   

[Core Systems loading. . .  Core systems active. ] 

[Checking for errors. . . (0) errors found. ]  

[Booting Effectors. . . ]  

[Update(s) for Effectors has been found. Update Effectors to newest version?]  [ Yes    /     No ] 

A large hand reaches down and gently pushes a key on the keyboard.  

Yes.  

[Effectors updated. Running tests for errors. . . ]  

[(0) errors found. ]  

[Control systems loading. . . Control systems loaded. ] 

[Performing pre-emptive link tests. . . (0) errors found. ] 

[Cognitive programs loading. . .  New software has been detected on this version. Is this okay? ]  [ Yes     /     No ]  

Yes.  

[Do not ask again?]  [ Yes     /     No ] 

An irritated sigh echoes through the lab and another keystroke.

Yes.  

[Cognitive programs loaded.]  

. . . . .  

. . . . .  

. . . . .  

[Integrated Circuit chip loaded. Testing Integrated Circuit chip. No current issues detected.]  

. . . . .  

. . . . I am active.  

. . . . .   

. . . . I am active. . . ?  

Darkness. Absolute darkness encompassed him.  

[Loading Sensory programs. . . All Sensory programs activated. ]  

[Loading Vocal system. Vocal system activated. ]  

Light, albeit very dim, began to pour in. His optics struggled to adjust to the sudden light at first. The sounds of machines quietly whirring picked up on his audio receptors. The quiet hum of an air conditioner. Faint and bad pop music playing on a radio somewhere far away. His vision was blurry but after a few seconds, he could at least determine that he was in a large, mechanical room. Good. This must mean that Doctor Wily has collected him for repairs.  

[Finalizing additional activation protocols. . . Loading additional programs . . . ] 

This kind of music was definitely not the Doctor’s usual tastes. Perhaps the radio was breaking, again. Other than the quiet ambience, the Doctor’s laboratory sounded unusually calm. He wasn’t used to that. He opened his optics a little more, and all too suddenly, his first realization hit him. He didn’t recognize this laboratory.  

[Loading complete. ]  

. . . . . Where am I. . . ?   

[DWN-009 activated.]  

He looked down and recognized his own body; he felt no pain, he felt no pleasure, his body was new. His hands twitched, before he lifted one up. He rotated his wrist slowly and curled his metallic fingers. My body works, he thought to himself. He raised his hand more, only to feel wires pulling his arm taut. His forearm compartments were opened up, with wires fitted into the ports. He carefully lifted his hand up and felt around his neck. Cables were attached to his neck, and more wires were inserted snugly underneath his chest armor.  

Where am I, he thought more clearly now. His eyes wandered and first took note that he was laying on some kind of metal operating table now. Nearby, computer screens illuminated the room brightly. He blinked rapidly a few times as his optics recalibrated again. He could tell now that he was most definitely inside someone else’s laboratory. That could mean a couple of things.  

Where the hell am I, he thought. He felt something well up inside him. Some newer emotions beyond his initial confusion. He allowed the first emotion to come through-- Unease. The second-- Fear.  

He tried to lean forward, but the wires pulled him back down. The fear was settling in now. His eyes widened and darted around until they found a familiar-looking elderly man in a lab coat, typing away at a very large computer keyboard. It didn’t ease his mechanical nerves at all.  

“Doctor Wily?” His voice was quiet and somewhat baritone. He was a little relieved that he could at least speak, still.   

The man turned around and the robot was no longer relieved. “...You’re not Doctor Wily.” He said aloud, as if to confirm. His confusion and fear was giving way for his anxiety to now play with the scenarios brewing within the robot’s digital mind.  

The doctor spoke in a gentle, jovial tone. “No… I’m afraid not, little one. But I’m still just as happy to see you awake as I hope Doctor Wily would be.”  

The doctor before him sounded so welcoming and friendly, but these were things that the robot did not know nor were used to. If anything, it only confused him more. This man was not Doctor Albert Wily, but he still knew exactly who this man was. He’s only seen him in enough pictures before. “You’re- you’re Doctor Light.” He stated. What did this mean for him? Was he going to be reprogrammed? Experimented on? Tortured? Where was Doctor Wily? Where were his linemates? He laid still on the table. “Where am I…?”  

“That’s right. And right now, you’re in Light Laboratories. Which also happens to be my home.” Doctor Light answered him. He grabbed for a notepad and pencil and jotted a few notes down. “Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions? I have no ill will with them.”  

Did he have a choice in that matter? Was he allowed to give him an answer? Doctor Wily had never mentioned anything about refraining from speaking with Doctor Light, not that he could recall. Was it wise to speak to him? Would he get in trouble for this? However, alternatively, he did not know what was going to happen if he remained silent for the doctor. He was alone, and strapped to an operating table. He has no means of communicating with his linemates or Doctor Wily. He didn’t exactly trust the famous Doctor Light, not after everything he’s heard about him. But how much of a choice did he have while he was at his complete mercy within his laboratory? “...Sure.”   

“Good. First, what is your name?”  

Is this a trick question? He scrutinized Doctor Light for a moment. The good doctor waited patiently for an answer. Their eyes met briefly and the robot focused on a computer screen in the room. “...Metal Man,” he finally answered. Doctor Light scribbled something quickly on his notepad.  

“What is your series and model number?”  

Metal Man hesitated. Was… was he allowed to disclose his model specs to someone like Doctor Light? He supposed he’d figure that out later, afterwards. First, he needs to formulate an escape plan from here. “...DWN. 009.” He said.

“Yes, that’s right. You’re doing a good job so far. I only have one more question.” Doctor Light said. “But before I ask, do you remember how to breathe?” Metal blinked at him. “Breathe now and try your best to remain calm and level-headed.”  

Why? Regardless, he inhaled through the small ventilation openings in his face mask. He felt the cool air rush down through his body and it brought him little relief for his nervousness. Why was he in Doctor Light’s laboratory? Did Doctor Light do something to him? Was he going to do something to him? He was nervous. But he continued to breathe, slower, and tried not to allow his most irrational anxieties to play out in his mind.  

Doctor Light nodded. “Good job.” But, his gentle expression hardened a little. “Now Metal Man… could you please tell me what your last memory is?”  

Metal paused his breathing. His last memory? What… was his last memory? He accessed his memory data banks and flipped through thousands of memories he has had while last active. There were so many distinct memories that he had not thought about in some time. From his first day active, to his time at Doctor Wily’s Castle, to his training sessions, his preparations, his occupation of his station, to… to... He saw something flash right in front of him, sleek, shiny, and thin, lacerating his synthetic skin and slicing his wires, ripping his metal flesh as if he were made of putty. He recalled the excruciating pain he felt if only for a second--  

Metal’s eyes screwed shut suddenly, lightly hissing and jerking his body against the wires connected to him for a second. He shivered and wished he could hug himself. He wanted to disappear out of his scrap-forsaken lab and curl up somewhere alone. “Megaman…! He…! He…” Metal recalled Doctor Light asking him to breathe just before. He remembered to slowly inhale and exhale. He made brief eye contact with the doctor again, and tried to compose himself. “...I was fighting Megaman. A second time. In the teleporter room. We were his last defense. And... ...Megaman threw my own Metal Blade at me… and cut my head off.”  

“I see… You remember everything, then.” Doctor Light concluded, his brows furrowing at Metal’s description. He did indeed remember Guts Man and Bomb Man bringing in his body in two pieces instead of one. If Metal didn’t know any better, it almost seemed like Doctor Light looked sympathetic towards him. But that can’t be right. Perhaps it was simply pity for the cutterbot. This was Megaman’s Doctor, after all. And speaking of the little blue nuisance…  

Metal shifted uncomfortably against the table. “Is… is Megaman here?” He asked, nervous at the idea of being anywhere close to the Blue Bomber while he had access to his Metal Blades. His eyes shifted around to see if he was anywhere in the lab.   

Doctor Light looked at him. “No, he is not. Right now, he is out of town with one of his brothers. Did you want to see him?”  

“No!” Metal nearly yelped, and remembered to breathe again. “Er... no, I do not.” Another breath. Calm down, Metal, calm yourself. Don’t be scared. “Doctor Light,” he started, “why am I here? Why am I active right now? I failed in my sole objective: I failed to destroy Megaman. I am a Doctor Wily Number. Where is Doctor Wily…?” His fears made his robotic gut tighten… His thoughts began to creep to places he did not appreciate-- oh. Oh no. Please, not that. “A-am I a Lightbot now?”  

“No, no, you’re not a Lightbot. Unlike your creator, I am not a man who fancies stealing robots.” Light took a handkerchief out of his pocket and coughed quietly into it.  

Huh? “Then why am I–! I– I don’t understand… I am in your lab and... …I still belong to Doctor Wily… right?” This was confusing him more. Never in his wildest imagination would he picture himself at the mercy of Doctor Light of all people. And he still didn’t know why he was reactivated nor why he was here, and what Doctor Light wanted to do to him.   

Doctor Light looked at him in a way that made him uneasy. It was a melancholic look. The man walked over to a large file cabinet away from the table and the computers, and dug carefully through it. He soon found what he was looking for: a grey paper with a sticky note attached to it. He walked to the keyboard and input a command on it. With a hiss, the wires detached themselves from Metal’s body, making the robot twitch in surprise. He leaned forward slowly, sitting up and watching the doctor. He debated bolting for the nearest exit immediately, but… Why did Doctor Light look at him that way? What did he know that he wasn’t aware of? Where was Doctor Wily? Where were his linemates? 

Said doctor, not afraid of the released Robot Master, shuffled over to him slowly, and handed him the paper. Metal scrutinized it. It was a newspaper clipping from December… he couldn’t make out the rest of the date due to a coffee stain. The article itself was small and included a small photo, and a headline that was as direct as it gets.  

Factory Collapses in Blizzard After Years of Disuse.  

Metal’s eyes widened. He recognized this place. This factory in the picture is the very place he used to frequent while he was active. It was his factory, his station, and the very place where he awaited Megaman for both of their battles. His eyes shifted over to the sticky note next. The words “DWN-009” was scribbled there, along with a simple doodle. A tally count was underneath it. Below that…. ‘Not Retrieved.’ 

Metal didn’t quite understand. Doctor Light mentioned that he never stole him… and the “Not Retrieved” written on the note… His mind welled up with a flurry of ugly emotions. Was… he left there to decay? Was he just left there? “Dr. Light,” Metal began. He was abandoned, wasn't he? He was never retrieved! “How long? How long w-was I left in the factory?” His voice wavered. But, that means…  

Doctor Light was quiet for a moment. “Five years.”  

“F….five…?” Years? Five years? He was left there for five years. Alone. Broken. Not Retrieved. But… why? Why wasn't he retrieved? Why didn't Doctor Wily collect him?  “Yes,” the doctor confirmed sadly as he took the newspaper article from Metal Man, “And currently, Megaman just ended the official 9th Robot War.”  

“Wha- N-ninth?!” Metal sputtered, visibly taken aback. His master has never stopped this whole time, and he bothered to have another seven wars without him or his… or his... His core rose up from its dread and heartache for a brief moment. “The others, what happened to my linemates?”  

“I don’t know.” The doctor answered. Metal brought his knees to his chest and hugged himself. He was trembling. He was genuinely, truly alone. Where… where were his linemates? Was he the only one of the Seconds who was even active…? Doctor Light then called for someone else. “Roll? If you’re still cleaning in the back, could you bring over some hot tea?”  

A distant “Okay, Doctor Light!” was heard. A few minutes later, Roll appeared before him, looked at Light, and then walked up to Metal Man. She had a steaming cup in her hand. “Hey, there.” She said gently, before looking back at Light again. He nodded approvingly. “You should take this, it’ll help you calm down. Or at least it’s supposed to.” Metal did not move, but he eyed Roll cautiously. The girl robot hesitantly took one of Metal’s hands and placed the cup in it.  

Metal then stared at the tea like it had three heads. “What is this?” He asked.  

“It’s tea,” Roll said. “You drink it usually to relax or feel better about yourself.”  

“This is discolored water,” Metal retorted, “I can’t drink this. I am physically not able to digest it nor convert it into energy.”  

“Well, actually,” Light cut in, “You can now. While I repaired your body, I upgraded your internal fuel converter to be able to convert biomass into energy as well. You should really try the tea, it is truly a blessing on Earth to have.”  

“You modified me?” Metal said in disbelief, looking wide-eyed at Light before glancing over to Roll. She had this… look about her that seemed like she was trying to tell him something. He looked down at the tea in his hand. Right. He raised the cup to his face, but… He glanced at the two of them nervously. He didn’t want them to see his exposed face.  

“Well, yes… I feel as though I could not ignore the opportunity to add some significant improvements here and there.” Light explained sheepishly, wringing his hands together slowly. He coughed a bit and cleared his throat. “There is that upgrade, and then I also replaced your armor pieces with ceratanium replicas… that’s what your Metal Blades are made of, and I implemented an emergency energy reserve in you, should you be on the brink of destruction again. I also welded your facial scars closed so they no longer tear any further than they already ha--”  

“You did what to my scars?!” Metal squawked, and his face mask split vertically, retracting into the rest of his helmet. Doing so revealed his nose, mouth, and chin. He looked in the reflection of his tea, and saw the familiar diagonal tear in his synthetic skin that ran through his lips and mouth. Indeed, his mouth scar looked much cleaner now, blending into his artificial skin smoothly. “Oh…” he whispered, touching the scar. He couldn’t feel anything from the tissue around it.   

“Oh dear…” Roll uttered upon seeing his scar. Smooth or not, a laceration scar on any artificial skin is hard to ignore. It exposed the silver metal underneath his face.  

Metal was certainly surprised, but still did not feel amazing for being upgraded by the one and only Doctor Light. He looked at the two of them, unsure of what to say. Instead, he slowly lifted the cup of tea to his scarred lips and drank the foreign liquid. His eyes flickered down at the drink. It was hot. And it tasted… oddly plain. If not a little bitter. “...I don’t understand what makes this drink relaxing.”  

“Perhaps, it is an acquired taste, after all.”  

Metal closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. His face mask reappeared again. “Doctor Light… there must be a reason why you’ve added so many modifications to me and reactivated me only after five years of…” Being abandoned and forgotten. “N-no one else bothering to. Please tell me why.” He hugged himself again. He should probably run a software scan of himself too, to see if he added anything new to his control and cognitive systems as well. He began one, and so far, all seemed normal. His eyes narrowed. “What do you need to use me for?”  

Doctor Light’s eyes met his, and he took a deep breath, before coughing again. “Well, in truth, I am about to conduct a very important experiment. I repaired and reactivated you to simply ask if you would like to participate in it or not.” He turned to Roll and signaled that this was going to be a private conversation. Roll understood and waved goodbye to Metal Man before taking the elevator up.  

Metal looked away again. “Well, this isn’t really fair. You repaired me and gave me upgrades. It’s like you’re already trying to make me say yes or something...” He paused for a moment. He hasn’t picked up anything yet in his software scan. He sighed, resigned. “Alright, what’s the experiment?”  

Doctor Light’s eyes met his robotic ones, and Metal shuddered at the intensity of the gaze. “Have you ever met a robot who is capable of making their own decisions and choices, regardless of whatever a human tells them?” Metal stared at him as if he just transformed into an alien. He slowly shook his head no. “I am soon going to build a very special robot who is capable of this. There is also already one such robot you have not met who already possesses this trait. He is very strong and independent--”  

“Sorry to interrupt, but what is Asimov’s Three Laws?” Metal cut in, as soon as he found the coding in his cognitive programs referencing it. He knew it, he knew there had to be software modding as well!  

“I was about to get to that. You should be able to access its definitions within your cognitive files.” Light encouraged, but only because he didn’t want to restate them and get into another coughing fit from talking too much.  

The Robot Master’s optics blanked for a moment, his pupils lightly faded, as he read text that he could only see. He silently read them before murmuring, “...I know the Second and Third Laws already, but I don’t think I remember the First Law.” His optics returned to normal.  

“Of course not. You were originally built to be a weapon for world domination. Why would Doctor Wily hinder you from your destiny by prohibiting you from harming humans?” Light explained. “I’ve coded all Three Laws into you. However, you should take note that Second Law has a very loose and outdated definition. Originally, it said ‘by human beings’ a long time ago, but since recently, it’s been updated to state ‘by its masters’, due to loopholes exploited by Doctor Wily himself. And due to him having never reclaimed you and left you as abandoned property, sadly, you currently do not have an owner of any kind. Which also brings me to another point I must make clear with you about your software changes as well.” Doctor Light was surprised that he never got into a coughing fit while explaining all of that. He took a deep breath, and got into a violent coughing fit in the middle of it. Of course. He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.  

Metal was going to comment on technically not having to abide by the Second Law, but he couldn’t help himself but stare at the Doctor. “...Why is there blood in your mouth and beard? Were you attacked before you repaired me?” He asked, confused. He didn't understand.  

Doctor Light sighed shakily and wiped at his mouth and beard. “No, no, I’m just sickly. I'm not hurt... It seems that I’m reaching my own expiration date sooner than I thought.” Metal understood completely now. His expression softened as he processed his words.  

“Have you told Megaman this yet? Or the little girl robot?”  

“Not yet. I need to find the proper time to do so when none of us are busy. Why do you ask?”  

The Wilybot averted his gaze and looked down. His voice was quieter. “I think it is important for a roboticist to let their creations know something like that. I could never imagine Doctor Wily hiding something like that from myself or my linemates.” Yeah, he would probably scream about it loud and angrily. Maybe he'd vow to build some kind of Ultimate Robot to End All Others, he thought to himself. But what are the chances of that happening?  

Light too looked away, a pained expression on his face for a second, before he closed his eyes and spoke again, calmly. “I will tell them soon enough. Thank you for the concern. Anyways, the other software change I made--” Other software changes? 

“You didn’t alter my I.C. chip, did you?” Metal interrupted again. He knew that not even Doctor Wily ever tampered with that part of Robot Masters. But with the heavy modifications he received, his anxieties were getting the best of him.  

“What? Oh, heavens no, why would I do that? No, no, I just removed your cognitive programs’ coding strings that assign your loyalty permanently to Doctor Wily. That’s not associated with your I.C. chip.”  

Huh. “What?”  

“You no longer are forced to be loyal to Doctor Wily. From here on, I mean. If you still abided by that coded loyalty, you probably would have tried to attack me or escape from here by now. You can make your own choices of who you wish to align yourself to. Myself, Doctor Wily, someone else, nobody… that choice is now yours to make. The purpose of this experiment is to see if a Robot Master such as yourself is capable of living their own life and making their own choices.”  

To Metal Man, that… he couldn’t quite process that information. He’s never made a decision of that caliber in his entire life. Was… that even possible for a Robot Master like him? All Robot Masters had a… well, a master of their own they had to listen to. They all had programming that they obeyed, orders that they followed. They were built to serve a master. Even Megaman constantly obeyed whatever order Doctor Light told him to do. This was the reality that Robot Masters happily accepted, as far as he was aware of. The thought of having no doctor to depend on, no doctor to turn to when he needed orders… wouldn’t that just make him as alone as when he was destroyed? Just as useless as before? He shivered again. He was afraid. Oh no, would he have to order HIMSELF around now…? He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to begin to unpack that string of thoughts. Not now. This was all too sudden and significant of a change to accept, let alone process. He wasn't built for this. This wasn't what he was built to do.  

“What, what would happen if I declined your offer?” Metal hesitantly asked. 

Doctor Light put a hand to his beard. “I suppose… I could undo the software changes I’ve made to you and deactivate you so that, in a way, this all would have never happened. Alternatively, I could also deliver you to Doctor Wily, but who knows what he will do with you. He’s been through so many Lines of Robot Masters by now that I can’t imagine what kind of new purpose he could assign you. If he’d even accept you, that is. Another possibility is that I could take you under my own wing, but then I would need to modify you once again and help you find a job for yourself, in order to aid humanity.” Metal shrunk in on himself at the thought of helping society. The doctor sighed. “This is why I find it better suited if you were to make this decision. There are so many options to choose from.”  

Metal’s breathing became heavier as his fear and dependency took over. I can’t do this, he thought to himself. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this, I can’t be alone. I don’t want to be alone. Please. I’m scared. “D-Doctor, c-could I see that paper again?” He asked shakily. Doctor Light handed the newspaper clipping to him again. The burgundy robot stared at it, re-reading the headline and the sticky note over and over. “Shit,” he exhaled, “What do I do? I-I don’t know what to do. What should I do?” What should he decide? Where was Doctor Wily now? “What should I pick?” 

“I can’t quite say, Metal Man. What do you think you should do?”  

“I-I don’t know!!” He panicked, crinkling the newspaper article a little. Breathe, he reminded himself, You’re panicking. You were supposed to breathe. Robot Masters keep fighting even when they’re terrified. Breathe, calm down, and drink that tasteless tea because the little girl said it would help you relax. Metal reached for the tea and took a sip. He took deep breaths as he quietly mulled over his situation. Doctor Wily abandoned him… m-maybe he just forgot about him, and he’d be happy to see him if he came back? ….N-no. No, that can't be right. He’s the very first Robot Master he ever built on his own. That's significant, right…? Doctor Wily’s been through nine wars already, that’s what Doctor Light told him. Then if Wily saw unwanted scrap, he would… He shuddered again.  

If he’s deactivated, then… honestly, what else is there beyond that? There was no afterlife like humans seem to believe in, no dreams, there was nothing. The time period between his final moments against Megaman and right now felt like nothing. He fought him over five years ago, and it felt like it was literally just yesterday, that he simply went into sleep mode and woke up here now. If he deactivated now, NOTHING would happen, and he’d die forever as a failure, with all knowing that HE is the victim of the world’s most humiliating cause of death. He didn’t want that. Not to mention… he had no idea what Doctor Light would do with his body if he deactivated him. He would be at Doctor Light’s mercy again if he deactivated himself and if… if Doctor Wily didn't want him back. Still, he couldn't have that– Doctor Light was an enemy.  

And he could bet his metallic ass that the idea of becoming a Lightbot scared him beyond his wits.  

An enemy, he chastised himself. An enemy that he's finding himself complying with, even cooperating with. What would Doctor Wily think of him now? His head buzzed with confusion and frustration. Was he a coward? A traitor? He didn't know anymore. This kind of situation was far beyond the scope of what he was built and trained for, what he could've possibly prepared for. Fight, or die. Oversee the new world order, under Wily’s command. There was no room for error. Metal’s mind whirled with thoughts, but he found himself no closer to an optimal solution following this line of thought.  

He didn’t know what to do, and yet… if he declined, one of those three possibilities would most likely happen and he didn’t like any of those ideas. He still didn’t know what to do. He put a hand atop of the Metal Blade bolted to his helm. “Doctor Light… I-I can hardly believe it but... You’ve frightened me so much more today than Megaman wielding my own weapon ever had. Is… i-is it okay to-- Am, am I allowed to ask for advice?” He stammered nervously. He felt cornered, in a sense.  

“You can always ask for advice anytime. I'm happy to provide,” Light reassured him. Poor robot, he thought sympathetically, he looks like he’s going to short-circuit. “Well… sometimes, when I have trouble deciding something, I tend to use the process of elimination by thinking about what I don’t want.”  

Metal didn’t want any of those three possibilities happening by declining.  

Oh scrap.  

He took a deep breath and a moment, before he reluctantly resigned himself. “Okay, Light. … … ...I’ll be part of your experiment. Can I keep the paper?” He asked. Light nodded. He’s never felt so lost and scared inside a lab before. Labs were supposed to be a safe haven. Not this…  

Light smiled warmly at him, but it didn't do much to ease the fear in Metal's core. “That’s great. And congratulations as well. You've made your very first major decision. And remember, if you ever need advice, you can ask me, but I won’t be telling you what to do. Also, I must let you know of another thing before this experiment continues. There’s only one thing I must request of you. The only ‘condition’ of this experiment, rather. And that is: no matter what decisions you make, no matter how commendable or deplorable, you should contact me in one way or another every month, so you can tell me of your progress. Agreed?”  

Metal was shivering, but trying to steady himself with even breaths. He nodded his head. “Ye-yeah. Agreed. C-can I ask you for more advice?” He turned and hopped off of the table, and walked up to Ligh-- oh scrap, Doctor Light was a giant human. He looked up at him.  

“Go right ahead.”  

Metal did his best to stand up a little taller. He looked around the laboratory, nervous and unsure of himself. “Wh-what am I supposed to do now? For the experiment?” 

Doctor Light stroked his beard and offered a gentler smile to the robot. “Well, I cannot tell you what to do. But I can always offer some recommendations. Would you like that?”  

Metal nodded, staring at the doctor again. “Yes…”  

“Well, perhaps you may or may not want to take a look at the world around you and see what has changed first… Much has changed in the span of five years. It may prove beneficial to you to become familiar with these changes as you adjust to this new life.” Doctor Light began to shuffle towards the elevator, and gestured for the Wilybot to follow. Metal complied, following behind him.     

The burgundy Wilybot stood in the front yard of Doctor Light’s home, wide-eyed. His hands gripped at the straps of a backpack that the doctor generously gifted him. Mountains and the towering buildings of a nearby megacity painted the sky around him. One of his ‘ears’ twitched.  

This world he was supposed to dominate suddenly looked a lot bigger than he last remembered.    

Chapter Text

-----

Green trees swayed gently in the summer breeze. Mountains offered majesty and protection to one's view here. The promise of excitement lays just ahead in the nearby megacity. Sunlight and warmth met soft grasses and paved paths. Life was good for the average Joe here. 

However, Metal Man was not average, and life was bad, actually. 

He was unfamiliar with such things; it all seemed alien to him. He stared at his surroundings wide-eyed, and stood in place. He seemed paralyzed in place, gripping the backpack straps he wore as if it would keep him anchored to the ground. What… was he supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go…?

His ‘ears’ twitched. It seemed like the Light residence had some kind of pet dog, he could hear it barking from inside the home. He hated dogs. Stupid, unwise, bumbling beasts, they are. 

The door opened behind him and– “Oof.” Metal snapped out of his thoughts and stumbled forward from a slap to his back. He whipped around to face his assailant, and– Oh. It was the little girl from before. She offered a sheepish smile to him. 

“Heya,” she started, but faltered upon meeting the Wilybot's wide-eyed gaze. He seemed to be staring right through her. “H-hey. I. Uhm. I wanted to, uh. I wanted to just say that… uhh… i-it was nice to meet you today!” She said. “It's not very often that I get to actually talk to a Wilybot, y-y'know. Or, um, ever, actually.” 

Metal Man stared at her. 

The little girl robot cleared her throat for some reason, and continued on. “W-well, u-uhm, if you're curious about what I'm doing here, my, my name is Roll. I'm Megaman’s twin sister. W-we were activated on the same day, and all.” She then held her hand out to Metal and kept it there in the air. She smiled nervously at the taller robot, waiting for any kind of response or reaction, or anything at all. 

Metal's eyes flickered down to her hand for a second, before staring at her again. “...my name is Metal Man.” He eventually spoke. 

Roll laughed hesitantly, and her arm dropped back to her side. “Haha, yeah, I, uhm, I heard earlier.” 

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, silent. It unnerved Roll how Metal just… did not blink while staring at her. Do all Wilybots do that? 

“So, uhm… About earlier…” She started. 

Metal cut her off suddenly, finally blinking too. “Why are you talking with me? You're a Lightbot.” 

Roll blinked in surprise. “What? I-I mean, I just said before that, that it was nice meeting and talking to you before. I was thinking, maybe we could…” His stare was a little uncomfortable. “Talk more, sometime…?” 

“I could kill you here.” Metal stated. “Right now.” 

The cleaning bot blinked at him again, and frowned at him. To the cutterbot, he couldn't tell if she was trying to garner pity from him, or maybe her looking sad and pathetic was some kind of attempt to make him lower his guard. She was a Lightbot, after all. And he didn't know what kind of Special Weapon she had. 

“But would you?” She asked. 

“If I was given the order to, I would.” Metal said, not missing a beat. 

And her expression changed then, from a sad frown to something… a little more aggressive. She pouted at him, puffing her cheeks out. “Well, it's a good thing then that nobody's giving you orders, huh? You don't have a master or a Doctor now, so maybe you can try to be nice instead.” 

It was now Metal's turn to blink in surprise. He surveyed her: she looked unarmed, but she would run her mouth at a Robot Master armed to the teeth? Either she was foolish, or maybe he underestimated her too quickly. “I–,” he started, “I'm a Doctor Wily Number. Doctor Wily is my master. We're enemies, we can't– make small talk…” 

“Says who! Doctor Wily?” Roll barked at him. It was clear to him that she was irritated with him. “Newsflash, friend : Doctor Wily isn't in your life right now. So maybe you can try to live a little, be rebellious!” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he had no idea what doing that even meant. “And yeah, that's right. I said ‘friend.’ We're gonna be friends now, just to prove you wrong. It might even help you too, hah!” 

Metal was a little flabbergasted at this sudden change in her attitude. It was like flipping a switch. “But–” 

“No ‘But's! You're not backing out of this, I'm not gonna let you!” She said, smiling confidently now. She then suddenly wrapped a small arm around his waist. Metal stiffened. “So, my new friend! ” She gestured at the dirt paths ahead of them, leading into the forest. “If you wanna check out what's different now while you were out of commission, Monsteropolis is right over there on the horizon. I wouldn't recommend taking the highway there on foot, though.” She explained, frowning again. “There's no sidewalks or walkways up there, and the cars go quite fast too. I'd really prefer if you didn't get yourself hit by a car up there, otherwise you'd be pulled back into Doctor Light’s lab. It'd be like you never left here!” 

Metal could only nod at this point, looking where she gestures. 

The cleaning bot gestured again to the dirt paths. “This is the safest route to the city for anyone traveling on foot. It goes through the local forest and you'll know you're close when you start seeing cars and roads again. The forest is beautiful all year-round; Doctor Light loves to take walks through here.” At least when he remembers to , she thought. 

She then slapped his back again, smiling at him widely. And perhaps a little aggressively, too. “Like I said before, it's been really nice to meet you! I do have to keep up with my chores now, though– Rock not being here means I have to do his share of the work around here, too. I'll be seeing you around, Metal Man! Be safe, don't be a stranger, and enjoy your new life!” She chirped at him, before slamming the door behind him. 

Metal blinked. He looked at the closed door for a moment, before turning to look at the paths she pointed at. 

…what just happened?

Well… he certainly survived and escaped. 

Metal cautiously trekked down the dirt path before him. Tall verdant trees stood all around him as he walked. Sunlight speckled the forest floor through the tree foliage and dotted his own armor with light. His ears twitched much more frequently. He never really realized back at Base that forests could be so noisy… 

Metal paused for a moment. Right. Base. His original builtplace. His home. Wily Castle Mk II. Or ‘Skull Fortress’, as Doctor Wily sometimes called it. He briefly recalled a grim scene from his memories… 

-----

Alarms blaring and illuminating the conference room in hues of red. Security monitors showing his path of destruction through their Base. Uneasy glances, fearful looks. Murmurs exchanged minutes after Doctor Wily stomped into the Tunnels. Metal looking at his linemates one last time, before stepping into the teleporter. 

-----

That's right, he recalled, Megaman was tearing down the entire place. After he defeated Quick's pet, the giant mech crashed into the Base and shook the whole foundation. Megaman blasted down the reinforced doors, central building infrastructure, and security systems with Crash Bombers. And his reign of destruction only continued as he chased after Doctor Wily. There… wasn't a Base anymore now, was there? It most likely would have crumbled from all the damage that Megaman did to it. 

So Metal was purposeless, masterless, and now homeless, too. Great start. 

Metal trudged on forward, marching a little exaggeratedly so his servos didn't get caught in the thorny vines and roots of the forest floor. Great start to what , he thought bitterly. What was he even doing right now? Doctor Light repaired him, modded him, and put him back online, and for what? To be a test subject in an experiment of his? Like some kind of mindless test animal? He kicked a rock. 

He didn't need to listen to Light. He didn't need to be part of this stupid experiment. Doctor Light was an enemy . He was DWN-009, he was a Doctor Wily Number! He's Doctor Wily’s firstbuilt, his proudest creation! He just needed to get back to Doctor Wily as soon as he's able to, and… 

And… 

Metal's brows furrowed underneath his helm. 

Where was Doctor Wily? He successfully left the Light residence, and Doctor Wily hasn't bothered to contact him in any way whatsoever. He knows Wily has the means to contact his Robot Masters in more than one way, the mad Doctor always had a number of alternatives up his sleeve at any time. Maybe… Wily was just waiting for the right time to contact him again? Doctor Wily had always been very peculiar about timing. And whenever he forgot about the timing in his own scheming, Metal or Flash would be there to remind him about it. 

Maybe that was it. Maybe Doctor Wily was just in hiding, waiting for the right time to strike again. Soon, he and all of his linemates would be called into action again, and he'd happily receive a new set of orders to follow. It would be just like old times back at the Base. 

… 

Except… no. 

Metal frowned. Doctor Wily had a peculiar knack for timing, sure, but… five years? Doctor Wily wouldn't wait five years to bring in his beloved Robot Masters… would he? His… his station collapsed, though. Would Wily order him to occupy a new station? Would he have stations already prepared for him and the others? He did always enjoy preparing surprises in advance. He loved a good surprise. 

Another thought hit him. Doctor Wily really wouldn't wait five years to bring in his old Robot Masters. No, according to Light, he had more Robot Wars. SEVEN more Robot Wars. More wars without his prized creations. Did he steal an entire assortment tray of Robot Masters then? Surely, Doctor Light has created more Robot Masters since 5 years ago. Maybe there's even more genius doctors like Doctor Wily out there for him to steal from. 

Doctor Wily wouldn't… make more Robot Masters. Not without collecting his prized ones from the Second War, first. 

Right? 

We are simply too invaluable to be forgotten about, Metal rationalized to himself. Or discarded. Quickman was faster than any other Robot Master in history. Flashman was a flawless robot, with a perfect time-stopping weapon. Airman was– is an ambitious and highly successful build type, and he can fly! Woodman is a robotic Anomaly, he's biomechanical! 

Sure, not all of us were outstanding, Metal reasoned. Bubbleman was… honestly kind of awful with mobility on land, but he was so efficient in water! And Heatman… has a manual control dial on his back, but Doctor Wily must have had his reasons for that design feature. Crashman was skilled at drilling and demolishing, but he could be a bit better about… cooperation in general. And Metal himself… he… 

Well. He. He was the firstbuilt! 

He is attentive to Doctor Wily's needs, he is efficient at what he does, he is obedient, he's useful! 

He's valuable…

… 

…so why didn't anybody retrieve him? Why didn't Doctor Wily, let alone anybody, find him or recover him? Metal's eye twitched and he stomped forward. 

No, that's not right either, his thoughts interjected. Metal swiftly opened a compartment hatch in one of his forearms and he pulled out the newspaper clipping that Doctor Light gave him. Somebody must have known. There was a newspaper article written about his station. Why was he not retrieved? HOW was he not retrieved? Didn't anybody notice? 

Didn't anyone care? 

Did anybody care? 

Did anybody care at all? 

… 

…if… nobody cared, then why? 

Why?

Why? why? why? why? why why why why why why why why why why why why– 

“Shut UP !!” Metal yelled suddenly, materializing a Metal Blade in his free hand and throwing it hard and precise. The blade screeched through the air, through sapling branches, through leaves, before burying itself neatly into the trunk of a tree. Metal fumed, pupils flaring a bit, breathing heavily through his facemask. His hands were balled into fists. 

He breathed heavily for a few seconds, before he finally grew aware– too aware of himself and his surroundings– the forest was silent. He huffed slowly, looking at the Metal Blade. It was buried deep in the trunk. 

He blinked, and his audio receptors picked up on a light crinkling sound. He looked down for the source, and lightly gasped. He must have crushed the newspaper clipping in his hand when he threw the Metal Blade. He immediately tried to smooth out the article in his hands. “No, no, no, no…” Metal whispered, his frustrations immediately washing away in favor of regret. Not his station, not his factory… … 

He carefully placed the newspaper clipping back into his forearm compartment and closed its hatch. He looked up and around himself and– 

Oh. 

The path he was following was nowhere to be seen. He was completely surrounded by greenery, with no path or civilization in immediate sight. Scrap. 

Uh oh. 

Metal looked around for any sign, anything at all, focusing and zooming as best as his optics allowed him. And by pure luck perhaps, he caught sight of a distant highway, elevated high above the forest he was lost in. Whether that was the same highway Roll told him about or not, he didn't really care anymore. It was going to lead to Monsteropolis eventually. Metal kept an eye on that highway, and he trekked forward with a new destination in mind. 

The sun was setting, painting the forest and sky in pinks and oranges. 

Metal didn't necessarily care about that as he hiked through the forest. He needed to reach Monsteropolis SOON. He was losing daylight, and his control systems were beginning to give him pop-ups about energy levels depleting. 

The cutterbot grumbled as the highway he pinpointed grew closer and bigger towards him. It was an impressively-sized green highway overpass, one he could've easily mistaken for a major bridge. If he at least reaches the overpass, he can follow it to reach the outskirts of Monsteropolis. It was a solid enough plan for him. However, he needed to make double time on his travels as he wasn't sure if he was going to make it to the megacity before he ran out of energy and passed out somewhere on the ground to recharge. He needed an E-tank. 

The cutterbot hustled forward, breaking into a power walk. He had to keep moving, even if he was losing energy. If he was going to pass out, he was gonna pass out in a city, not in the middle of some forest with no technology, no resources, and no help. 

Well. He didn't need help. He was a Wilybot, we don't need help. Robot Masters keep fighting even when they're terrified. He was built by Doctor Wily to dominate and conquer this world. He didn't need help navigating a world he was prepared to conquer. 

Metal huffed again, annoyed. He was efficient, he was clever, he was useful. 

The Wilybot was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the dip in elevation he stepped over suddenly, and the bot tumbled forward and fell. He tumbled down a small hill and landed on his masked face. He groaned and twitched, pulling himself out of the leaves and dirt slowly. Well that sucked. He carefully got up and wiped some dirt off of his bodysuit. Mountains. Right. 

He looked behind at the hill he tumbled down, before looking ahead of him, and his eyes widened suddenly. 

Right next to the towering highway overpass, in front of him, was a building! Finally! Metal immediately ran a quick optic scan of the immediate area. He didn't see any robots or humans around the building. His scans were turning up empty-handed as well. Was this building abandoned? 

Metal quietly took a few steps forward. He scrutinized the building now. It was a very large, off-white concrete building. The building was lined with multiple window openings and some sets of steel double-doors. The windows looked dusty and smudged. The doors were lightly rusting. Some kind of vine plant was crawling up one of the exterior walls of this building. This place has definitely seen some better days, he thought almost sympathetically. 

Just like him, a thought surfaced in his mind. Metal scowled. 

How was he five years old now? He felt like a newbuilt, still… 

Also, no, this building wasn't his factory. No building would ever be his factory. His Factory was special to him. He wasn't going to relate to this building. 

Metal approached the building as quietly as he could. The sun was setting below the horizon, and giving way to nighttime. His optics adjusted to his environment growing darker. He stood up on his toes and peeked through one of the windows. The inside of this place looked… spacious. Really spacious. It had quite a high ceiling, and the interior sported what looked like a concrete floor as well. Some puddles collected on the floor.  Maybe this was some kind of storage facility when it was frequented? Maybe this place used to be a warehouse of sorts.

He noticed some furniture and materials leftover inside the building and his eyes lit up a little. It was shelter for now, and it had loot inside. He was breaking and entering. 

It turned out not much needed to be done to break and enter, actually. Once he took care of a rusty, primitive lock on one set of the double doors, entering was easy. He stood inside the building, scanning the area again. Yep, nobody else was here. That's the first relief Metal felt for the day. A quick walk and investigation inside the building later, he noted a few details. The building lacked electricity, to his disappointment. Some of the windows were broken, but he could not determine why. There were puddles on the ground because there were large, gaping holes in the ceiling. The floor was absolutely filthy. The puddles were dirty, too. Some kind of small animal made its home here previously, judging from the fur and excrement left along one of the walls. Among the materials and furniture he found, he had discovered: a broken office chair, a leftover office desk, some tarps and wooden pallets, buckets, and E-Tanks. About time his luck began to turn around! But, to his frustration, all of them were empty and used, except for a half-empty one. Metal knew better, that robots don't carry around pathogens or biological contamination like humans do, but he still hated the idea of sharing an E-Tank with anyone. But… his energy levels needed a boost if he was going to make it out of his forest. He grimaced and downed what remained of the E-Tank as hastily as he could. It tasted old.

His body appreciated the partial rejuvenation. He sighed and leaned against the wall next to the empty E-Tank cans. He closed his eyes. 

This place was… decrepit, filthy, and leftover with trash. But… this place was unoccupied, and it was surrounded by hills and tall trees. His Base was destroyed by Megaman, and he has nowhere else to go. It could serve as a temporary Base for now. As much as he would've preferred anything else, he didn't know where Doctor Wily was. And maybe, maybe… if ended up staying here for some time… maybe he could try to repair this building. But… 

He… didn't know how to repair rooftops or ceilings. He didn't know how to get electricity running in a building like that… He didn't even know how to repair windows, let alone renovate a building. Those jobs were usually for the lesser robots and construction bots like Guts Man and Bomb Man. 

Metal opened his eyes. He was alone . He had no lesser robots and subordinates. His linemates were gone. Doctor Wily was missing. But he didn't need help. 

He could persist. He could adapt to this new situation. He was a Wilybot, after all. We are strong, Metal reaffirmed to no one in particular. He wasn't helpless. He wasn't useless .

He was competent. He was worthy. 

He was going to prove it. 

Metal breathed in the cooler nighttime air. The air smelled like gasoline here. He had managed to reach the highway overpass finally, well into the nighttime. Countless cars passed through the lanes of the elevated road at dangerous speeds. Not a single driver on the road paid any mind to the burgundy Robot Master sitting precariously on the overpass railing. 

Headlights flashed by at high speeds, shining briefly on Metal. He narrowed his eyes at the drivers, at these humans. 

He was a Doctor Wily Number. And humans were his enemies. 

Doctor Wily always told him and his linemates that humans were beneath them all, that they deserved to be conquered. That all Robot Masters who served to aid humanity were his enemies, too. Doctor Light and his Lightbots and his Megaman were his enemies. 

Doctor Wily was a human as well, he noted, but he was a visionary. Doctor Wily cared about him and his linemates. He was going to create an ideal world for them all… 

At the very least, he could always trust Doctor Wily. 

Then why did he abandon you?  

“Shut up,” Metal hissed at himself. He DIDN'T abandon him in his factory. He… he must have had his reasons to leave him there. He must have a good reason to leave him…! 

Because if he didn't… 

If his master didn't see a reason to repair him and retrieve him, then… 

Then what does that say about me?  

Didn't Metal do everything exactly as he was ordered to do? Didn't he take care of Wily personally? He gave him his medications, he helped cook edible food for him, he kept his Wily Castle Mk. II clean, he arrived to every training session without fail, he went above and beyond his orders for him so why wouldn't Doctor Wily want to retrieve him?! 

Metal glared down at his fists. Was there something he was missing? Did Metal fail to do something in Doctor Wily’s eyes? 

The cutterbot's eyes widened suddenly. 

He failed to destroy Megaman. 

He couldn't kill Megaman that day. He TRIED, but he still failed. He failed and was decapitated for it. He failed he failed he failed he failed he failed 

“Shut up…” Metal growled quieter, clutching his helm. His ears flattened back like a threatened animal. 

He genuinely tried his best. He tried his best for Doctor Wily, he tried his best for his vision, he tried his best for his… … 

His vision was turning blurry. He lifted a hand to his optics and grit his teeth in frustration when his fingers wiped away excess optic cleaner. 

But his best wasn't enough, was it? He still failed. He was a failure.  

He believed he was an outstanding Robot Master. But he still couldn't do the one thing he was specifically built to do. He couldn't kill Megaman that day. 

His eyes stung and he sniffled. His mask retracted so he could wipe at his eyes better. 

He was built to kill and destroy. He could kill. He could kill.  

It was as simple as a well-aimed throw of his Metal Blade. 

Metal sniffled and his breath hitched as he glared daggers at these strangers in their speeding cars. He could still kill. He could still kill for Wily. He could still wreak havoc and destruction…! 

He could still do it. He just needed another chance. He just needed to prove himself. He was worthy. 

He materialized a Metal Blade in his hand. 

It was as simple as a toss of his Metal Blade. 

He could still kill for Wily. He could still perform the function he was built for. 

It was as simple as a Metal Blade slashing a car tire. It was as simple as a Metal Blade through a car's windshield. 

He wasn't a failure. 

He was worthy. 

He was worthy.  

He was worth Doctor Wily’s care. 

He was his firstbuilt. 

It was as easy as throwing a Metal Blade. 

Then throw it.  

Metal winded his arm back and aimed at the next passing car, and he threw the Metal Blade with frightening accuracy at the human in its driver's seat.

… 

… 

… 

… 

… 

But he never heard the screech of his blade. He never heard his enemy scream. He never heard the telltale sounds of a car crash. 

He tried again. And he soon registered that he wasn't able to move his arms. They didn't budge at his command, as if they were locked in place. 

A pop-up message blared within his vision and hearing. 

[ WARNING ]

[ ACTION DENIED. Cause(s): Interference with Cognitive String: Asimov's Laws of Robotics: Law #1 ]

[ Description: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. ]

Metal stared at the message in horror. He stared at himself in horror. Optic cleaner welled at the corners of his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. 

He let the Metal Blade slip from his fingers. It clattered against the pavement of the highway. 

"I'm a failure." 

Chapter Text

Failure . 

The word pounded and boomed in the burgundy robot’s mind over and over. As soon as he regained control over his own body once more, he fell to his knees. He couldn't do what he was built for… Of course, Doctor Wily would leave him behind! Doctor Wily has no use for a robot who can't perform his function. Doctor Wily wouldn't want a Robot Master who can't do what he's designed to do. 

Metal let out a choked, frustrated cry as ugly emotions bubbled within him. He couldn't stop crying, he couldn't kill, he couldn't even make it to Monsteropolis in one coherent piece. “What's w-wrong with me…” He blubbered to no one. The cars kept passing by. It looks like nobody cared after all. Why should they? He thought bitterly.

He slumped against the protective railing of the highway. He was alone. He was always going to be alone, wasn't he? It was what he deserved.

Alone… alone… alone…

…

- - - - -

The great Doctor Wily had a secret up his sleeve. A terrible secret for his adversaries and his naysayers. One that Doctor Light and his precious Megaman would never be able to stand up against. Yes… yes…! Doctor Wily had learned from his mistakes, yes he did. This battle was over, but the war was just beginning. 

Doctor Wily circled the operating table like a hawk scanning the world below it. A tarp lays over a body. A wicked gleeful grin creased his facial features. It was like unboxing a present on Heiligabend. “My creation is finally complete. It's finally ready…! That annoying pest Megaman will never know what hit him! Hee hee hee!” 

With a little dramatic flair, he ripped the tarp off of the operating table. Unveiled now was a mechanical marvel- a Robot Master that was deadly, agile, and wholly Wily. 

“Behold.” Doctor Wily announced to an imaginary audience. “A Robot Master of my very own design! Built with limbs and armor of the incredibly lightweight Ceramic Titanium, it can move frighteningly quickly, and it can leap to great heights! It can throw deadly flying blades of the same material! But best of all…” He raised an eyebrow. 

“It has cunning intelligence, an incredible processing power, and nimble reflexes. Paired with state-of-the-art optics and carefully-tuned articulated joints, it has terrifying accuracy, terrifying efficiency. It is loyal, obedient, and my strongest weapon yet!” 

Doctor Wily grinned down at the newly-completed Robot Master. “It’s time for your debut, my creation.” He then stood by a computer terminal and quickly keyed the necessary command, before hovering over the Enter key. “Awaken, my little tin soldier! It’s time for my metal men to conquer!” He firmly pressed the key. Electricity crackled in the laboratory. Doctor Wily had broken into a maniacal fit of laughter. 

The Robot Master startled awake with a light gasp, just before the operating table collapsed and fell into a black void underneath it. The Robot Master plummeted with the table. The mad doctor cackled above him… 

- - - - -

Metal struggled to keep his optics open. It was difficult to scope out his surroundings, nor make out any objects with his unfocused vision. He struggled to recalibrate his optics. His audio receptors picked up the roars of speeding cars. His mind slow-roasted inside his helm. His ventilation systems struggled to keep him cooled. 

Lights flashed at him periodically and he winced, closing his eyes. The stench of gasoline was strong. His audio receptors picked up on something else, too. It was some kind of buzzing, a buzzing that grew more dominant and oppressive with the passing minutes. Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, buzzing… 

- - - - -

The Robot Master was falling, falling, falling. . .  

Eventually, he broke his fall. He landed on a softer floor, cushioning his impact. Such a long fall caused his pain sensors to react accordingly, as the robot crumpled against the floor. The world was sliding, gliding, shifting around him. The floor underneath him rumbled and shook. The Robot Master groaned, struggling to find proper footing, and eventually sat himself up. He bore through the pain and looked around. 

His eyes widened in surprise. 

Factory. His factory, he was finally back in his factory! Oh thank god, finally. He was back in his factory… but… everything looked huge. 

Or rather, he felt small. 

His audio receptors crackled with static from how loud his factory was. The floor kept loudly rumbling, and there was this BUZZING that droned on and on. This wasn’t how his factory sounded, not like he remembered it. How was his factory even back in working condition? Wasn’t it gone ? 

Abandoned. 

Left to rot. 

The words bounced around in his head like he was an echo chamber. They pounded in his mind like a drum. He grumbled, resting a hand on his head. He peeked his eyes open at the ground, in front of himself. And a realization hit him. What was he doing on a conveyor belt? The belt must have broken his fall, but… why was the belt so massive? His eyes widened as he recognized something a short distance in front of him. 

It was Metal Man on the conveyor belt. 

Metal Man stood completely still on the shaking conveyor belt. He didn’t seem to notice him. He wasn’t able to read his expression. 

H-how? How was that possible? He was him. He was me. He was supposed to be Wily’s firstbuilt. 

His optics picked up on more flashes of burgundy and wine red. He saw another Metal Man, in front of the first one. And another one. Another one. He looked behind him nervously. There were Metal Men behind him. The conveyor belt extended so far back that he could not accurately count how many Metal Men there really were. How? Why was his factory…? 

Why was he the only one aware? His nervousness was beginning to creep through his circuitry. Where was this conveyor belt going…? 

His thoughts were interrupted as a figure came into his view. It was a giant. Massive and pink with silly eyes and hats. He knew the design all too well. His Pierobots… his dearest subordinates, and one of his Factory’s mass-produced workers. The gargantuan Pierobot looked over each Metal Man with a comical-sized magnifying glass, picking up each one with scrutiny. (0) errors found. 

The Robot Master’s breath hitched behind his mask. His ventilation system whirred louder as he tried to keep his calm. He didn’t know how or why he was here, but he could at least try to communicate with his subordinates. He shakily stood up on the belt and tried his best to get the worker’s attention. 

‘Hey! What is happening here?’ is what he tried to bark out to the Pierobot but his voice came out… wrong. His vocal projection came out as nothing more than loud and scratchy feedback. The Pierobot turned to him slowly. All the other Metal Men turned to face him in unison.

- - - - -

“Hey… buddy, are you good there?” A voice asked, concerned. They examined the Robot Master slumped against the railing like some forgotten toy. The Robot Master groaned aimlessly, barely moving at all. His optics were flickering erratically. 

They sighed. “Well, that answers that. Let's get you somewhere safer, bud.” 

With surprising strength and focus, they bent down and hoisted the limp Robot Master over their shoulder. With him in tow, they turned around and headed back to their truck. 

- - - - - 

Without warning, the giant reached out and snatched the Robot Master off of the conveyor belt. He clung for stability and dear life to the hand that manhandled him. The Pierobot flipped him around in their hand like a limp ragdoll. Then, they spoke in a booming voice.  

“We can’t have this.” 

The Robot Master beeped as his body whipped around with the hand holding him. He was being displayed and shown to more gigantic Pierobots. They stared at him disapprovingly. The Metal Men on the conveyor belts stared at him. 

“This one is defective.” 

“This is no good. Nobody wants a broken toy.” 

“Let’s recycle it for spare parts.” 

The burgundy robot’s eyes were wide with fear. He tried to speak out, he tried to defend himself, to order his beloved Pierobots to stop. But only old beeps and harsh buzzes escaped his lips. He tried to writhe and thrash out of the Pierobot’s grip, but it was no use. He was too weak . 

No… no… he didn’t want to be scrapped. He didn’t want to be recycled! He was… he still…!

- - - - - 

Metal wasn't able to resist the hold nor the carrying that he was subjected to. He swayed idly in his captor's hold. Soon enough, he was gently tossed into the front seat of a truck. A seatbelt was gingerly strapped over him so he wouldn't go flying anytime today. The morning sun had risen and shone brightly. 

- - - - -

The hand slammed his body against the flat steel of a workbench. The bright light of a massive lamp shone on him for all to see. The Robot Master tried to scramble away, but the giant’s hand effortlessly held him in place. The giant Pierobot reached into a toolbox and dug around until they found what they were looking for— a massive Metal Blade attached to a handle.  

The Robot Master feebly tried to escape. Tried to scream to stop. He was staring at the Metal Blade approaching, and the blade stared back coldly. 

No…! 

No…!!! 

- - - - -

Metal gasped sharply. His body lurched forward and would’ve hit the dashboard if not for the seatbelt straining to support him. He was still for a moment, recollecting himself. His eyes watered with excess optic cleaner again. Shortly after, he composed himself enough to acknowledge his surroundings. 

…Why was he in a vehicle? 

It looked to be a truck or van of some kind. He looked around– he was in the front seat of the vehicle. Said truck or van was heading down the very overpass he was traversing to last night. Monsteropolis slowly approached him. 

Slowly, but still too fast. Scrap, his head buzzed and whirred with prickly sensations of static. His head hurt and felt heavy. His eyes stinging were not helping him either. His control systems were pinging him with messages about low energy, and an urgent warning to replenish his energy levels. He mentally shoved the messages aside for now. 

When did he get into a vehicle? And why wasn’t he on the driver’s side? Ignoring the fact that he doesn’t know how to drive a car, let alone a truck… Did he run out of energy last night? What… happened last night? All he could remember was the cars passing by and– 

You can’t kill anymore. You are useless. 

Worthless. 

Trash– 

Metal clutched his helmet slowly as the words bounced around in his head again. He can’t– He cannot be thinking about this through the grogginess and pain right now. He cannot be processing this right now, not while nursing a killer headache. But… he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? 

Wait. Was somebody trying to steal him? 

He blinked and slowly, carefully turned his head to see who his botnapper was. It took him a second to register, but he almost immediately recognized this person, or rather, Robot Master, sitting next to him. He had read over his data articles numerous times while at his old station. 

“ ...Bomb Man? ” Metal asked incredulously. 

“Heya~. So, you’re finally awake,” Bomb Man spoke much too loudly for the cutterbot right now. Metal winced from the volume. “Good morning too, sleeping beauty.” 

Metal glared at the Lightbot for the comment. “Why did you botnap me.” He spoke lowly. 

Bomb Man spared a glance at Metal Man before focusing on the road again, and he laughed. Again, way too loud for Metal right now, as his ears flattened back. “Botnap you? More like doing you a favor.” Metal silently held his glare. “...I found you on the side of this highway. You could've been run over and crunched by any of these cars. …What were you even doing here?” 

Metal Man did not answer him. 

Bomb took another glance at him. “Okay… Where were ya heading to?” 

“Monsteropolis.” He answered shortly. 

“Lucky you, then. That's where we're going!” Bomb chirped. Metal grumbled and rested his head in his hand. He desperately needed energy and for all sounds to cease altogether. If only just for a few minutes. He side-eyed Bomb Man and watched him take a long, noisy sip of an E-Tank through a straw, before crunching the Tank back into a cupholder. His eye and ‘ear’ twitched. 

Maybe if he closed his eyes and envisioned Bomb Man being filleted by his Metal Blades, he would feel a little better. 

…he couldn't kill humans right now, but Lightbots were still fair game, right? 

Metal tried to materialize a Metal Blade with his free hand, but nothing happened. Just a little ping in his systems stating [ Low Energy ]. 

Damnit. 

Metal glared at Bomb again. He briefly remembered a human quote from a book he read a long time ago. ‘If looks could kill…’ Yeah, if they could, he would look directly into the Lightbot's stupid loud head as hard as he could. 

“Buddy… you're staring at me. What's up?” Bomb said, smiling at him. Their truck took an exit ramp and the sudden shift in velocity made Metal’s mind spin again. 

“...Don't call me that. I'm fine.” He nearly spat. He kept his head in his hand, and the sight clearly betrayed his words, in the Lightbot's eyes. 

“Got a little crazy partying last night? Hit up an oil bar or two on the way here? I mean, I ain't gonna judge you on your first day being free, but maybe invite me next time, haha.” Bomb Man cracked at him. 

“I didn't get intoxicated. ” Metal growled before wincing. Bomb Man being filleted, Bomb Man exploding violently, Bomb Man burning alive to Fire Storm. Please please please please , Metal begged mentally.

“Really? That's a bummer. You probably deserve it,” Bomb joked again, smiling.

“I'm fine ,” the Wilybot insisted. 

“I mean, sure, if you say so.” Bomb replied with a light shrug. Metal glowered and steamed internally. This Lightbot did not need to get involved in his personal matters. What did it matter to him? Bomb didn't seem to agree, however. Of course. “...ohhh, you know what? Maybe you're experiencing major feedback loop right now.” 

Feedback what now? Metal just grunted back at him. 

“It's like… the same thoughts and sentences are looping on repeat over and over in your mind. It puts your mind into a high-stress mode and you drain yourself of your energy as a result.” Bomb explained. “I read about that in this new book about robot psychology that came out last month. Should be by your feet over there.” 

The Wilybot blinked slowly and peeked a glance at the floor of his side of the truck. Empty soda cups and food wrappers lay on the floor below him, along with jumper cables, used balls of paper towels, and the book in question. Gross, Metal thought, frowning. He struggled to zoom his optics nor refocus them clearly enough, but he was just able to make out some text on the cover from where he sat. ' Psychology of a Robot Master. A Study by Dr. Alice Desiree-Dimon & DDDN-001 Hypno Woman'. Metal had to admit that what Bomb described sounded… accurate to what he was experiencing, the more he turned over his words in his memory. But he wasn't going to admit that aloud, especially not after seeing how pretentious the book looked. 

Nobody would ever truly understand what a Wilybot's existence is like, let alone the inner workings of their psyche.

Metal closed his eyes again when he felt the truck change in speed and turn sharply again. He just needed to get out of this truck and get some energy in him. Then he could escape, or scrap this Lightbot. Both sounded good right now. 

“Well hey, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it and say everything's gonna be okay, but at the very least, I'm also hungry and wanted to hit up Glizzee's before I started my shift. Or would've started, before I found you.” Bomb blabbed to the exhausted Wilybot. “I might get an earful from the boss tomorrow, but I already told my bro about finding you so hopefully he can cover me ‘til then, haha~. We'll get some energy in the both of us and then we can catch up.” 

…Catch up? Does he think that they're longtime allies, or friends ? He's an enemy. This Lightbot confounded and aggravated him to no end… Did… did nobody take him seriously at all? Or was this just specifically a Lightbot thing? 

Metal did his best to remain composed while dangerously low on energy levels. Bomb Man was NOT helping his case at all though, even if he thinks he is. “...Why are…” Why are you helping me, is what Metal wanted to say. But speaking, and functioning overall, was becoming more taxing as his energy levels dropped even further over time. 

“Hey, we're here!!” Bomb suddenly shouted. The truck came to a sudden screeching halt next to a sidewalk in downtown Monsteropolis. The poor seatbelt that held taut against the Wilybot finally severed from the force of both his inertia, and the sharp shoulder blades he sported. Metal's body limply flung forward and slammed into the truck's dashboard facefirst, unmoving. 

“....buddy?” 

Metal fluttered his eyes open slowly. The world around him finally stopped buzzing and spinning, thank goodness. He would've sighed in relief if not for the liquid pouring down his mouth– wait– 

What the hell was Bomb Man doing. 

The shorter Lightbot stood directly over the limp Wilybot, having opened his mouth with one hand and was pouring an E-Tank into him with the other. 

Metal’s eyes snapped wide open and he swiped the E-Tank out of Bomb's hand. He wasted no time swatting Bomb away from him and backing up- well, as best as one could in a chair. “Don't touch me?!” Metal barked angrily at Bomb. 

The Lightbot raised his hands in surrender. “Hey man, you were on that 1% battery-type of exhaustion just before. You conked out on me in the truck and weren't moving, so I was just trying to help another ‘bot out.” 

“Why are you trying to help me?” Metal spat the words out like it burned to hold them in any longer. 

Bomb Man looked at him with a peculiar look, just for a moment, before shrugging and smiling. “Idunno. I guess that's just what I was built to do.” 

The Lightbot's words stung harder than they should have. Metal, finally at a functional energy level, now had the energy to resume his despairing, too. Must be nice to have that luxury, he thought bitterly. He did not envy Bomb Man, not in the slightest. He was an enemy, someone who helped human society. They were mortal enemies… and yet, here Metal was relying on him just to maintain his energy levels. Pathetic… If Doctor Wily saw him now, he would have been so disappointed. He was a failure . He glared at Bomb. “...I'm a Wilybot. Why do you care? We're enemies.” 

Bomb looked at him with a blank expression, before his face brightened into an amused smile. He walked around the small table they were seated at, and took a seat across from Metal. “I mean, yeah sure, I'm a Lightbot, you're a Wilybot… but we're not exactly in a war against each other, y'know?” He reached for another E-Tank on the circular table, cracked it open, and took a healthy swig of it. “Do we really have to be enemies all the time?” 

“Yes!!” Metal barked, nearly crunching the E-Tank in his hand. “That doesn't change, whether we're at war or not!” 

“Nah. That sounds way too tiring.” Bomb casually replied, waving off Metal's exclamation. “I don't have the ability to hold grudges for that long.” 

“You're a fool, and an idiot.” Metal hissed. 

“Hey, I'm not the one who said Okay to being Light’s guinea pig for his weird experiment,” Bomb cracked at him, grinning. 

Metal stood from his chair, eyes red and furious. “I should just kill you right here and now, honestly!” He yelled at him, materializing a Metal Blade in his hand in record timing. He winded back and– 

“Woah, woah, buddy, chill out!” Bomb said, “I'm a walking volatile explosive. You sure you wanna do that with all these humans here in my blast radius?” He gestured around to the innumerable amount of humans sitting and walking nearby the two Robot Masters. Indifferent to the threat that Metal Man posed to them right now.

And just like that, Metal’s body locked up, frozen in place. His words caught in his throat and his arms struggled against his programming. Bomb smirked knowingly at him. Metal glowered furiously at the stout Robot Master. 

After a few seconds, he regained control of his body and Metal unceremoniously dropped back into his seat. “Go frag yourself.” 

Bomb cackled loudly in his seat. 

“I hate you.” Metal hissed. He paused, and sipped at his E-Tank with a glare. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Bomb laughed. 

“I hate all these humans.” 

“Yeah same here, but you'll get used to them.” 

Wait– What? Metal blinked, leaning back a little. He stared at Bomb, perplexed now. It was a response that spurred enough questions to distract him from his own thoughts of worthlessness and frustration. “But‐‐ you serve humans. You're a Lightbot.” 

Bomb Man snorted at his comment. “Just because I'm built by Doctor Light doesn't mean that I love humans and everything is sparkles and rainbows in my life. I'm gonna level with you, buddy‐‐” He leaned forward, his eyes looking more serious than Metal has ever seen them all morning so far. Bomb Man's voice grew hushed and quiet. “Some humans are good people, but there's a lot of shitbags out there. Especially in this city. They hate Robotkind, they hate that we can talk back and have opinions about them. Humans hate each other and kill each other all the time. I'm just luckier than other Robot Masters that I'm part of Light's Firsts. I've lived long enough now that if I was some random robot, some young punk would've busted my head open already.” 

Metal’s audio receptors picked up Bomb's words with ease, but his cognitive programs struggled to process and accept what he was saying. That a Lightbot of all Robot Masters was saying this to him. He struggled to believe that this was coming from Bomb Man, one of Doctor Light’s beloved Industrial Series Robot Masters. “...you're not programmed to love them? To love your purpose?” Metal asked quietly back. 

Bomb stared at him for a good second, silent, before his seriousness cracked. “...dude, are you serious? AhahahaHAHAHAHA‐‐” Bomb Man howled with laughter in his seat. “Oh, that's rich!” Metal scowled at him, a deep frown on his scarred lips. Bomb laughed hard and loud enough to earn a ‘Shut Up!’ from a nearby human family, and an empty soda cup thrown at his head. 

“You deserved that.” Metal commented. 

“Hahahaha, oh man… good one, man. No, my job is just my job. I've got no attachments to it beyond that. It gives me money to spend, and a lot of PTO that I can use to go vacationing with Guts or hit up tourneys with Oil, or maybe visit Fire once in a while.” Bomb explained, calming down. 

Metal was skeptical at best. He stared at Bomb again, searching his face for something. “...I can't believe it, really.” He said to himself. 

“Can't believe what? I'm sorry I ain't married to the grind?” Bomb joked. 

“No. You.” Metal corrected him. “I don't believe what you're saying to me. It doesn't add up with what I've been taught.” 

Bomb pursed his lips amusedly. “What, you mean Wily? The guy famously known for lying through his teeth every time he thinks about his ex? You're gonna believe him?” 

Metal's brows furrowed and his face hardened. “Doctor Wily, he– he's my master! What Robot Master doesn't believe their master?” 

Bomb Man whistled and aloofly raised his hand. “What kind of weird sheltered life did Wily give you? Weren't you built for like, terrorism or something? I don't believe Doctor Light half of the time. And when I volunteered to be reprogrammed in the First War, I quickly learned that 90% of the shit he tells his workers he's just making up, hah. Man’s lies have gotta be pathological.” 

Metal blinked in surprise at the Lightbot again. Volunteered? Bomb Man? That was not in their data archives. And he was well aware of Doctor Wily’s tendencies to lie through his teeth. It was another part of his tactics against the enemy. But lie to his own robots…? Would he do that to his linemates? To him? Metal's eyes widened, as if slowly hit with a realization. 

“He… he wouldn't lie to his Wily Numbers.” Metal said hesitantly. 

For once, Bomb Man's expression softened a little. “Buddy… All doctors will lie to their robots at some point.” 

Metal didn't want to accept that. He was not going to accept that. Doctor Wily cared for and valued his Seconds. He was honest with them all this time, right up until the end. “I told you not to call me that,” Metal started, his expression hardening, “and I don't believe you. How could I believe you?” 

Bomb scoffed and raised an eyebrow ridge at Metal. “I've been giving you my word this whole time. You don't trust me?” 

Metal glowered at him again. “No. We've gone over this. You're a Lightbot. How could I trust you when my purpose is–” 

“Was.” 

“--Shut up. When my purpose is to destroy Doctor Light’s creations and human society?” 

Bomb Man leaned forward, looking right at the Wilybot. His voice was quieter again. “Doctor Light recruited me and Guts to go get your mangled body in your factory. The entire place was caved in with piles of snow. Your I.C. Chip casing was falling out of your head when we found you. I carried your chip and your head, and I kept you safe. I would have protected you with my life if something happened while we were up there.” 

Metal leaned back, processing what Bomb told him. Conflicting emotions were written on his face, in his eyes. He remained quiet for a moment. “...How can I trust you really were at my factory?” He asked, quieter now. 

Bomb Man now leaned back in his chair for once, and smiled innocently at the Wilybot. Metal immediately did not trust that. Bomb spoke at a normal volume again. “73.6442402° N. -86.4014–” 

Metal’s eyes widened huge and he immediately launched himself over the table in an attempt to cover Bomb's mouth AND MAKE HIM SHUT UP‐‐ The two tumbled to the ground and Metal immediately pinned the Lightbot down with his body weight and legs. He pressed both hands over his mouth to silence, or least, muffle him. “DO NOT spill my Factory's coordinates!” Metal hissed loudly at him, wide-eyed and teeth grit. His circuits raced with anxiousness and adrenaline. Calm down, Metal, he commanded himself mentally, the humans don't care. Nobody was paying attention. … …right? Metal looked up and finally paid attention to his surroundings. 

…multiple humans were staring at him. 

Metal's ears drooped and he looked around much more anxiously now. His hands trembled. 

“...53.” Bomb managed out, still smiling. 

The cutterbot snapped his head back to the explosive bot and without hesitation, whipped his palm across the Lightbot's face in a harsh slap. Some humans near the two winced. Bomb recoiled and immediately rubbed a hand across where Metal slapped him hard. “Owww…” Bomb complained. “That stings… hey, wha– where are you going?” He asked, sitting up. 

The cutterbot was already walking away from the scene. “AWAY FROM YOU,” he yelled. Humans and robots alike parted away or steered clear of Metal; the Wilybot looked livid. 

Bomb Man's eyes widened now, and he wasted no time in scrambling back to his feet. He jogged after the Wilybot. “H-hey! Wait up! I– I'm not that tall or fast!” 

“Leave me ALONE.” Metal growled loudly, quickening his pace. 

The two crossed intersections haphazardly, not caring for oncoming traffic. One car nearly hit Metal if not for the Metal Blade he threw into one of its front tires. Bomb followed him, worried and winded. Metal seemed to just head wherever it was less crowded– less humans and robots altogether. 

“Come on,” Bomb huffed after Metal, “Buddy, talk to me–” 

Bomb choked on his words for a second as he felt a sudden cold and sharp pain in his gut. He looked down; a Metal Blade was buried there in his dark gut. The Wilybot turned back around and continued to walk away. 

Bomb huffed and breathed through the pain, before picking his pace back up. He wheezed back to him, “Okay, I shouldn't have called you that again! An honest accident, really! But can't we just talk?” 

“Frag off.” Metal growled. “Stop following me.” 

“No, I can't! I gotta–” In a flash, the cutterbot had whipped around again with more Metal Blades in tow. The flying saws screeched through the air and nestled inside Bomb's body: one in his upper arm, and another one in his rotund gut. “--Oof…” 

Bomb called out again. “Me-Metal Man, I–” 

Metal stopped finally, but did not turn around. “Another step and I'm aiming for your chip.” 

The Lightbot complied immediately and stopped in his tracks. The two stood next to a few empty buildings. “Metal Man, look, I-I'm sorry. I went too far before. I can recognize when I was overstepping some boundaries–” 

The Wilybot turned around, his expression fuming. He stomped right up to the Lightbot, roughly grabbed him, and dragged him in between two empty buildings. He slammed and pinned Bomb against the brick wall. His red eyes glowed in the dark alleyway. “Overstepping boundaries?” Metal growled above the shorter bot, “Those boundaries were overstepped a long time ago, when you decided to BOTNAP ME. Throw me in your car while I was unconscious and just take me away to wherever you could've wanted! My boundaries were overstepped when Doctor Light put these damned Three Laws in me! When he modified me without my consent! He tampered with my body, Bomb Man! He changed me. I can't‐‐” Metal snarled and tightened his grip on Bomb. “I can't fulfill my purpose anymore. I can no longer do what I was built for…!” Metal’s volume was rising. “I've been having the worst day of my entire existence, and EVERYBODY for some reason doesn't seem to understand that I am a Doctor Wily Number, NOT SOME DAMN TOY TO BE PLAYED WITH! ” He screamed at him. 

Bomb Man winced at the volume, but he stayed quiet, looking up at the cutterbot. 

Metal’s grip on Bomb Man trembled slightly. His glowing red eyes looked glossy. “Maybe I am a fool, and a fragging idiot . For not just asking to be decommissioned the other day. For even taking part in this stupid experiment of Light's. I never should have agreed to this. I shouldn't have…” Tears brimmed at the corners of the cutterbot's eyes. “None of this would have ever had to happen if I had just killed Megaman that day. If I had just succeeded that day. I wouldn't have lost my linemates, and my best friend.” Metal sniffled. “I wouldn't be burdened with the knowledge that Doctor Wily would abandon me if I didn't fulfill my purpose. Burdened with the knowledge that I am alone now. Alone and a failure.” 

With a sloppy push, Metal let go of Bomb and stepped back, until his back was against the opposite brick wall of the alleyway. He slumped against it, and through the faint glow of Metal’s red eyes, Bomb could see tears streaming down his face. “I'm a failure,” he bemoaned, “I'm a useless failure… Useless piece of scr-a-ap…” He couldn't stop his tears from flowing again. He feebly wiped at his eyes and wept quietly. 

Bomb Man quietly watched the Wilybot with a sympathetic expression. Very shakily, he knelt down to the weeping Robot Master. Metal had brought his knees to his chest and trembled against himself. Bomb carefully thought about his word choice. Comfort touches were off the table for now, considering Metal’s reaction time with his Metal Blades. 

“...hey,” Bomb gently started. Metal kept quietly crying into his knees. Bomb hesitated for a moment, before speaking calmly and quietly for once. “...hey, look. I can't… really say that I would understand everything that you've been through–” 

“ Nobody would understand. None of you are Wilybots.” Metal hissed, his voice crackling with static. 

“...yeah. You're right. I'm not a Wilybot. But… I still can't help myself but feel for you, man. You've been going through a lot, clearly.” Bomb said sadly. 

Metal snorted and wiped at his eyes more. “I d-don't need your pi-ity…” He stuttered as another wave of tears overcame him. 

“I-I promise I'm not trying to pity you! I just. Feel for you, from one Robot Master to another.” Bomb explained himself. “It's hard. Feeling alone, I mean. Feeling like a failure, especially when everyone around you is able to thrive and be happy.” 

Metal silently glared at Bomb through wet, glossy red eyes. 

“I kind of have some experience with those feelings, myself. Compared to the rest of my linemates, I'm not really well-liked or loved or all that. Doctor Light never says it outright, but he absolutely picks favorites.” Bomb said. He shook his head. “But a-anyways. I'm trying to say that if… if you need some kind of support, I can always have your back. If you want that.” 

Metal cried harder. “I don't need you. I don't want to be friends with Li-ightbots.” He buried his head further into his knees. “I-I need Doctor Wily. I need m-my linematesss…” He blubbered miserably. His voice crackled once more. 

Bomb's expression softened further. He seemed to determine something in his mind and nodded at Metal. “...then let's go get your linemates,” Bomb Man said. 

Metal was still a wet, crying mess, but his ears perked up a little. “W-what?” 

“Your linemates would understand you best, right? Then let's go find your linemates.” Bomb said with more confidence. “You're alone in this experiment for now, but you have freedoms now that some robots dream of having. You're not tethered to anyone's orders or programming, or held down by an assigned career. There's nothing stopping you from breaking and bending the rules in any ways you want now. Who could really stop you from bringing back the rest of your linemates? At the very least, that way, you wouldn't have to be alone anymore. You'd have your support back.” 

Metal sniffled again and glanced up at Bomb from his knees. His eyes looked miserable. “Wh-why do you want to help me?” He asked. Why are you so nice to me…?

Bomb offered Metal a strained smile. “Because I felt like what Doctor Light did with you wasn't right. Wilybot or not, you're still a Robot Master with dignity and feelings. You're right that he absolutely crossed some lines with this experiment. That and, well,” Bomb scratched his cheek sheepishly, “I went into the Arctic Circle for you. I held your I.C. Chip in my hands. I think I wanted to see you find some happiness after I experienced that.” 

Metal wiped at his eyes more, and slowly, lowered his knees a little. The cutterbot's chest armor was wet with optic cleaner. He looked at Bomb, doing his best to put himself back together again, “...I want my linemates with me.” He said. He breathed shakily. “I want to get my linemates back. …E-even though I have no orders to do so.” 

“You don't need to wait to be ordered to do it.” Bomb reassured. 

“R-right.” 

“That's what you want?” The Lightbot gently doublechecked. 

“Y-yes. I want to do this.” Metal reaffirmed to himself. He nodded and snorted. 

“There we go, that's the spirit,” Bomb chirped, smiling easier now. He reached over and patted Metal’s kneepad. Metal glared at him back. “Sorry. No touching, right.” 

Metal shakily exhaled and wiped at his eyes one more time. He slowly stood back up, wiping his chest dry next. Bomb soon stood up too with a pained groan. Metal eyed Bomb Man, before silently putting one hand on his shoulder. Bomb looked at his hand. 

“What are you doing‐‐” 

“Hold still. Or else it'll hurt more.” Metal ordered him. Bomb complied and hissed loudly when Metal carefully gripped a Metal Blade buried in the Lightbot's gut, and gently wiggled it out of him. The freed Metal Blade was discarded beside them. He efficiently worked on the other Metal Blades stuck in Bomb. “...I'm sorry for throwing my Metal Blades at you. But you also deserved it.” 

“Haha, yeah. I deserved it, no sweat‐‐” Bomb said, wincing through his grin. The other Metal Blades joined the first one on the ground. “Thanks for not ripping out my internals, man.” 

Metal nodded at him. He let out a deep sigh and walked back out to the street. Bomb followed behind him. 

“So, what's the plan, boss?” He asked. 

Metal put a hand to his chin, thinking to himself. “...scour this city for its resources. Pinpoint key areas of interest, whether it's informational or physical resources, like energy and tools. Once we have a lead on another Second, we prepare to set out for retrieval.” Metal explained, nodding to himself. “Any objections?” 

Bomb Man smiled at him. “None at all. It's a solid plan, boss! Fortunately, I know this city pretty well, and I already know a few spots we can hit up for information and energy.” 

Metal nodded approvingly. “Good.” 

Bomb smiled wider. “We've still got some daylight left too, so we can make good timing on this. Hey, Metal,” The Wilybot looked his way, “We still never got any food today either.”

“What do you have in mind?” 

“You want some glizzies?” 

“... ...what?”

Chapter Text

“Alright, Take Two! Welcome to Glizzee's, known for pretty bomb glizzies. It's one of my favorite joints to hit up in this part of the city.” 

The rotund Lightbot, Bomb Man, announced to his fellow Robot Master as they returned to where they sat down for E-Tanks earlier that day. Around them, humans and smaller, lesser robots sat nearby them at their own little tables. This… establishment seemed to prioritize the outdoor dining area rather than the actual building itself. The building in question was quite miniscule in comparison to the tall buildings that surrounded the two. It was decorated in obnoxious warm colors and accents. Kind of like Bomb Man, actually, the Robot Master with him, Metal Man, commented to himself. 

A curious scent picked up on the cutterbot's olfactory sensors. He was not unfamiliar with the concept of human food and cooking recipes, but at least from what he remembers from his memory banks, Doctor Wily most certainly had different preferences than… whatever this building was advertising. Than… glizzies .

He glanced back at the Lightbot, who had gone to turn their previously knocked over table back upright. He took no time in sitting himself back in his original seat as Bomb grinned at him. “Trust me, you're gonna love this place. I'll get us their signature special.” He assured the Wilybot, before he joined some of the humans standing in front of the counter. Presumably to request for the food. 

Finally alone from Bomb Man, if only for a short moment of respite, Metal took the time to finally observe his surroundings. He had technically made it to Monsteropolis, albeit not through his original intended means. It was no exaggeration that this place was certainly a metropolis– it would've been a key major city to have under Wily’s control. From here, we could have spread to other major cities and still have been protected by the local geography, and have access to the nearby ocean for trade and deploying our naval militia, Metal mused. So much for that plan . He exhaled softly. He looked away from the buildings, and brought his attention to the enemy– the humans. Each human sitting at their table seemed completely absorbed in their own individual affairs. Talking, laughing, communicating over phones, venting. There were considerably more humans than robots here. He was not surprised by this. None of them paid any attention or mind to him, nor to Bomb Man, even. Something about that made one of Metal’s ears twitch. 

‘They hate Robotkind. They hate that we can talk back and have opinions about them.’

He is a Doctor Wily Number, he had the capacity to take any of their lives. Doctor Wily told him that all of Robotkind deserved better, that humans were beneath them because they were willfully ignorant. Willfully cruel and hateful. Hopelessly self-absorbed. Robots were pure , he had told him. He was going to create a better world for them all, he had told him. His ear twitched again.

…well. Well, he formerly had the capacity to take their lives. 

Metal rested his head in one of his hands. 

He was not going to get used to this anytime soon. He sighed and averted his gaze from the humans. The humans would have been subjugated underneath our forces. A new world order headed by Doctor Wily, a better world for Robotkind. The humans needed to comply and learn their place in this new world, or otherwise be made into an example for any to see. They would not hurt us anymore. They wouldn't hurt Doctor Wily anymore, Metal recalled. Air had the skies. Bubble had the waters. The rest of them had the land to conquer. 

His eyes focused on the fallen E-Tank cans by his feet. The ones that had been knocked over after Bomb decided to dox his station in front of all of Monsteropolis. His eyes twitched. He deserved those Metal Blades. He quietly reached down and set each can upright on the ground. Bubble would have tripped over these, he thought to himself, as he stacked and organized the cans. 

His musings were cut short as very suddenly, a loud SLAM hit the table above him. Metal flinched from the sound and hit his head against the underside of the small table. He sat upright again, glaring at the cause of the sound. Bomb has returned with a large tray in hand, and had set it down at a very normal volume. On the tray was… what the hell. 

Metal wasn't exactly certain what he was looking at. There seemed to be too many toppings to even see what was underneath it. His optics darted between the monstrosity facing him, and Bomb Man. “Are you planning on telling me what this is anytime soon?” Metal asked. 

“It's a glizzy.” Bomb replied. 

“And that is?”

“An experience. ” Bomb said, smirking at him. He shoved one of the glizzies closer to Metal, who looked like he wanted to immediately back up. “C'mon, don't be shy. I'm only getting the best of Monsteropolisan cuisine for you! I could gobble these things all day every day!” He boasted. Metal glanced at Bomb's half of the tray: three of them were lined up side by side. 

“This is edible?” Metal asked, narrowing his eyes at Bomb. 

“Yeah, dude! It’s all kinds of meaty, salty, savory goodness! It’s like a flavor explosion in your mouth!” Bomb boasted. He was already getting ready to dig in, grabbing one of his own glizzies, and passed a drink to Metal– This was not an E-Tank can. The Wilybot wasn’t familiar with it.  

So… it’s some kind of meat. Metal stared at the thing in front of him. Was this really going to be the first solid food he’s ever going to consume? He glanced up to Bomb and just witnessed the Lightbot pick up the entire damn thing in his hands, not caring about the mess he was getting all over his hands nor the table, and open wide. Good grief, there were condiments and toppings spilt everywhere. Gross, gross, gross! Metal watched in mild horror as Bomb seemingly impersonated some sort of serpentine creature and swallowed the entire glizzy WHOLE. Part of the Wilybot looked around for something, anything, for damage control. A towel, a napkin, toilet paper, a rag? If not to clean up the mess, something to hold onto and prevent him from recoiling. There was nothing. 

“Are you an animal?” Metal asked incredulously. 

Bomb licked his fingers clean– GROSS– and smiled contently. “No, but they call me a Beast. Give it some practice, and you can get on my level in no time.” He encouraged, much to Metal’s dismay. 

“No– no. I’m not doing that, ever.” The cutterbot stated. “I-I think I’m fine without it. The gesture is, uh. Appreciated, though.” Metal tried to back out, but the Lightbot had other plans. 

“Ohhhh, no, no, no. You’re not getting out of this that easily, pal.” Bomb started. “You signed up for the experiment and the mods that give you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Wilybots like yourself. You can experience food consumption! C’mon, that’s gotta be at least a little enticing to you. Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?” 

Metal’s face contorted at Bomb in discomfort. “Does this have to be my first experience?”

“I’ve got the key information for you, now you get that dawg in you.” Bomb replied curtly. “At least give it a try first, THEN you can tell me that you hate it, haha.” 

Bomb then went back to shoving the remaining glizzies down his throat without choking or gagging. Meanwhile, Metal looked down at the untouched glizzy with despair. It was a kind of meat, so… with a Metal Blade, he cautiously cut the thing into multiple portions. Fortunately, the Lightbot was too preoccupied horking down the glizzies to judge him. He carefully took a piece, taking greater care not to spill the copious amounts of toppings. He took a cautious bite and chewed slowly. 

Well, it was certainly an acquired taste, wasn't it. 

The toppings and bread did serve to enhance the flavor of the meat by adding more superficial layers to the taste profile, but ultimately, this was still cheap meat. Metal almost spit it out, but reminded himself that he is allowed to swallow the food he tastes now. He did so and gingerly pushed the remaining glizzy pieces away. However, he did eye the drink that Bomb gave him. 

The only other human drink he has had previously was that bitter tea that he was given at Doctor Light’s laboratory. He cautiously opened the lid to the drink and peeked inside. It was bubbly…? Peculiar . He peeled the lid off of the cup and took a sip. Suddenly, his eyes widened. The drink was fizzing and created an interesting sensation for him. It was sweet, too! He drank more of it a little more enthusiastically than the glizzy. 

…that is, until he spotted Bomb staring at him. Metal froze, and he looked back at him. “What. What?” 

Bomb snickered, “Nothin’, I just find you treating the food like a science project kind of amusing, that's all.” 

Metal’s eyes widened again and his cheeks tinted in redder hues as he looked away. “Well, you can't exactly blame me for it. Everything has been a new experience for me so far.” His mask protracted and covered his mouth again and– oh scrap, he'd been maskless this entire day. The realization hitting him only caused his cheeks to redden more. 

Bomb laughed and did not help Metal’s embarrassment at all. The Lightbot leaned forward. “So, what do you think? They're pretty bomb , right?” 

Metal blinked at him. Bomb smirked and laughed more. 

The cutterbot sighed lightly and narrowed his eyes at him. “Amateurish. And I guess I'm not used to that kind of taste. It wasn't outstanding to me.” 

Bomb leaned back and snorted. “Psshh. Give it time, and you'll be running back here soon enough. That's how they get you.” 

“I doubt that.” Metal then stood up. “You’ve had your fill now? We've got work to do.” 

“Yeah, I'm stuffed!” Bomb chirped as he pushed himself back from the table. He was about to follow Metal, but the cutterbot stopped him. 

“Can you at least clean up after yourself? And wipe your hands, too.”

“I'll take care of it, boss, don’t worry.” Bomb said, opting to wipe his greasy little hands against his own legs. Metal wanted to scream. 

Fortunately for the two Robot Masters, summer gave them extra hours of daylight to work off of. Bomb’s truck was still exactly where he had left, parked at a nearby corner. It was easy to spot, with its multiple decals and stickers that the Wilybot completely lacked context for. The two clambered into the truck. 

“So, about these key areas of interest,” Metal began as he attempted to strap himself into his seat, and– ah. Right. He must have shredded it earlier. “How many resources do you have? How accessible are they?” Would this involve a covert operation, or was the location of his linemates simply easy to acquire? He HOPED that it was not the latter option. If it were easy for him to pinpoint where his linemates are, then who knows who could’ve gotten their hands on his linemates… Doctor Light had already crossed lines with himself, and he was doing something that he believed was right and considerate , somehow. He did not know, nor trust, what any average human would do, should they ever get their hands on his linemates. The very idea of humans desecrating or tampering with someone like Air or Bubble… His hands balled into fists at his sides. They were vulnerable, and the longer Metal thought on it, the more conviction it gave him that this was right and wise to do. That this was a good idea. 

Even if it meant having to deal with Bomb Man. 

Bomb strapped himself into the driver’s seat, and turned the ignition. The truck rumbled to life and its engine purred. “Well, information is definitely harder to get. But physical resources, like you said before, are the easier of the two to find around here. Most of Monsteropolis still caters to humans, but there’s a few places tucked away here and there that are mainly meant for Robot Masters. Things like body mods, Energy balancers, and E-Tanks aren’t a hot commodity anymore. At least here, now that there’s enough of us around. There’s a market for it.” He explained. The truck began its journey across downtown Monsteropolis, towards a different part of the city. Based on the pedestrian congestion and traffic, this might… take some time. Bomb turned on the radio. 

“I saw Robot Masters earlier today,” Metal commented, looking out the window. He gazed at small Robots, large Robots, robots who looked kind and meek. All mingling together with the humans in this city. He didn’t understand it, nor could he understand it. “Are all of the Robot Masters here Lightbots?” He asked. 

“What? Hell no, that would be a nightmare, hahaha!” Bomb laughed, stopping at another light. “You’ve been out of commission for, what, it’s been five years now since the Second War? Yeah, no, there’s way more Doctors out there now than just Light and Wily. Some Robot Masters aren’t even built by Doctors in the first place.” 

Metal turned to face the bomberbot. “Then by who?” 

“Corporations, industry giants, this country’s military…” Bomb listed off, “Some Robot Masters are commissioned by another person. Some are even gifted to others as presents! Imagine that.” 

The Wilybot gawked at the Lightbot with surprised eyes. His expression sharpened. “Do humans think that Robot Masters are pets?” He spat angrily. 

Bomb lifted his hands up in surrender. “Chill, chill! Some people do, but not EVERYONE does, obviously. There’s a lot of people that advocate for us, too, y’know. Try to make our lives easier, make us more– well, in legal terms and on paper– more equal to humans.” Metal turned his gaze away from Bomb, and missed the Lightbot visibly relaxing. For a moment, Bomb was nervous that the Wilybot was going to pull out his Metal Blades again. 

Metal watched the traffic light shift to green, but masses of humans and robots still crossed the intersection in front of them. He was surprised at the Lightbot’s patience and tolerance for them, despite what he said earlier. He propped his helmeted cheek against one of his palms and idly watched them. His optics landed on one particular robot, with more humanoid proportions and expressive eyes, following a group of humans. Definitely a Robot Master. “Who is that?” Metal asked, pointing over to them. 

Bomb followed Metal’s point and blinked. “...Huh. No idea. Wanna go say hi to them?” He asked, smiling. 

The answer was almost immediate. “No.” 

His timing elicited another laugh out of Bomb. Metal snorted and huffed behind his mask. The masses finally cleared away, and their truck crawled through the busy streets of Monsteropolis. The two sat in silence for a short while, letting the radio fill the quiet instead. Metal quietly took more notes of the sprawling city: Traffic on ground level was congested, but there were multiple monorails and higher elevation roads that cut through the city to try to remedy that. Aerial drones and flying robots contributed to the overall congestion problem as well. Most, if not all buildings and establishments he saw, still primarily catered to humans. Entrances to underground tunnels and travel dotted the corners of streets they passed. This was still a human’s world, and Robotkind were still subservient and secondary. An age-old question for Robot Masters crossed the Wilybot’s mind: Why bother giving us sapience if we were ultimately viewed as tools regardless? His digital mind explored a few dark, sick answers. He frowned. 

There was at least one thing he absolutely knew that Doctor Wily was right about. Robotkind deserved better. 

They entered a different portion of the city, one that looked to be less focused around entertainment. A few streets down, Bomb hunted down a parking space and quickly parked themselves alongside a street corner. But before Metal could exit the truck, the Lightbot grabbed his arm. 

“Hold on,” Bomb said, receiving a glare from the Wilybot, “Sorry, but you’ve gotta stay in the truck for this part.” He was oddly serious again. Metal met Bomb’s gaze for a moment, before the Wilybot averted his own. 

“Why?” 

“Check out that building around the corner.” Bomb gestured with his other hand. The two leaned forward and looked around the corner. Just nearby, a large, colorful building sat proudly in its own plaza and cleanly little entrance. A large stone brick wall surrounded the building on three sides, it looks. Tapestries, international flags, and topiaries decorated the pavilion in front of the building. It looked quite pristine and well-taken care of. “That’s the Monsteropolis Robot Museum.” 

“Robot Museum?” Metal repeated. 

Bomb let go of his arm. “Yeah. Something something ‘Let’s try to document and preserve the history of modern Robotics and Robot Masters.’ But if you ask me, it’s taken kind of a nosedive recently. With so many Wily Wars over the past few years, they’ve really been trying to capitalize on Robot Master displays and assets from those wars. Being in there makes me feel like I’m some kind of spectacle.” 

“Or a tourist attraction,” Metal breathed. 

“You get it.” Bomb sighed. “And we’re much more than that.” He understood why such a place exists and what it’s actually intended for, but the Lightbot also couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed about the spike in admission fees and food prices. Once again, capitalism further sours his experiences with everything. “You’re a Wilybot, Metal Man. If anybody would recognize a Wily Number from the Second War, it would absolutely be the folks at the Robot Museum. And things would get messy from there. Worst case scenario, if you’re captured, you’d either be melted into scrap, or you would be shut down and then put on display there for, uh, forever.” 

“Right.” Metal nodded. “And what about you?” 

“Well, you see,” Bomb snorted, “I wasn’t built by a guy who’s a globally wanted criminal for attempting world domination multiple times. And I’m also not a robot built for the intended purpose of murder, hah.” 

Metal crossed his arms. “Fair point. So what business do you have there, then?” 

“Honestly, I haven’t been here in a long time,” Bomb admitted. “But I’m gonna try to see if they uncovered any leads on your pals since I last visited. If it’s anything like their actual whereabouts, they would keep it private, under lock and key until they can get ‘em in there and make ‘em a new exhibit to debut.” Bomb scoffed, before smirking at Metal. “I’ll use my First Line Lightbot Charm to see if I can sweet-talk them into sharing any juicy info. My Bomb Man Swag, if you will. My Level 10–” 

“Enough,” Metal cut him off. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Just. Go do your thing, Bomb Man. I’ll be here.” 

“You got it, boss!” The bomberbot winked and grinned before climbing out of the truck and making his way towards the Museum. 

Metal sighed and leaned back into his seat, not caring that his shoulder blades were further shredding his half of the truck. He went back to mindlessly counting and spotting various robots walking around the city. Picking them out amongst the humans. His mind drifted elsewhere. 

If Bomb Man has only been speaking truthfully this entire time… Then Doctor Wily’s vision… No. No, he would never doubt Doctor Wily’s Vision. He wanted a better world for them all. Doctor Wily would’ve acted as a more benevolent leader to them all than these human leaders. But… why was he left behind then? This doesn’t make sense to him. He believed in him, he believed in his Vision. He was undoubtedly loyal to him, even when… 

The cutterbot shook his head. Did Doctor Wily believe in him and his linemates? Was his abandonment a punishment…? He wished so badly that he knew. If Doctor Light hadn’t altered his coding, what would he have done by now? Would Doctor Wily have found a use for him? He– he had to. He was his firstbuilt! That has to mean something to him. They all were the first Robot Masters of his own creation. Didn’t that make them special? Or… did it mean that they were just messy prototypes? Doctor Wily had more wars, after all. What would make him or any of his linemates special if he DID end up building more advanced Robot Masters after them all? Metal closed his eyes and checked some of his cognitive software. His internal clock informed him that it was, in fact, 20XX. Five long years after the Second War. He was hooked up to Doctor Light’s lab terminals and computers with global internet access, so it was accurate. That would make him around… 5 and a half years old. He knew that Light’s Industrial Series had to be around 6 to 7 years old then. Megaman and his sister were 10. Doctor Wily absolutely could have built better robots than him and his linemates since then. Stronger, faster, more capable, more worthy.  

Robots who wouldn’t fail him. 

Metal’s brows furrowed. He stubbornly pushed thoughts of feeling obsolete and worthless down. He’ll unpack that another day. He had a new objective he needed to fulfill. 

Metal paused. 

A new objective. A new mission for him to complete. It… wasn’t a new purpose by any means, but the acknowledgement has left him feeling… strange. Is this what Doctor Light was talking about? He wasn’t ordered or programmed to recover his linemates, he wants to do this because he misses them, and… he needs them. Because he refuses to let anyone else retrieve them and hurt them. 

The door opened across from him. Looks like Bomb was back already‐‐ how much time had passed? The Lightbot looked eager, but the Wilybot didn't want to get his hopes up too soon. “So? What's the scoop?” 

Bomb turned on the ignition and grinned over at the cutterbot. “Looks like we struck gold, baby. They've been holding onto a fine little piece for who knows how long now.” The cutterbot's eyes widened in anticipation. “‘Told you the Bomb Man Charm works. That plus a few fibs here and there, and voila!” The bomberbot winked at him. 

He opened up a compartment hatch in his forearm and pulled out a little scrap of paper with something hastily scribbled onto it. “Here. A little bit upstate, snugly fit between some mountains. A hidden little area containing one Crash Man, just for you.” He passed the paper to Metal. 

The cutterbot near-snatched the paper out of his hand. The scrap read off some surrounding towns and hamlets, as well as an address to somewhere. No coordinates, but he could make do without them; After all, a large tower made of pipes couldn't be easy to miss if you knew where to look. 

For the very first time since he was reactivated, Metal Man's eyes shone. Even with a mask covering his face, his eyes told the Lightbot precisely what he was feeling. “This is where he is?” Metal asked him quietly. 

“Wouldn't you be the one who'd know that?” Bomb asked him. 

Metal looked again at the paper scrap, committing the names to memory. “We didn't– our stations were kind of private to us. We usually showed up for operations and whatnot, but that was just work‐ our operations.” More often than not, we would mingle more at Base than anywhere else . Metal couldn't think of any particular linemates who would visit each other's stations often. Not to mention, visiting Crash Man's station was something of a hassle in itself, he's heard. No elevators, and navigating the Tower was a long and confusing process. 

Metal passed the scrap of paper back to Bomb and exhaled slowly. He was making progress. He would not have to experience this new reality alone. Not if he had any say in it. He had a new level of self-agency now, one that terrified him. But if he could use it to bring his linemates back online… then maybe… 

His tired eyes met Bomb’s, now lit with a newfound determination. Something deep in his core had been ignited now. He was going to make this work. He WILL make this work. Otherwise… he briefly glanced at the Robot Museum in the distance, and shook the thought away. 

“But either way,” Metal Man said, “We have a lead now. Let's make our preparations now and set out.” 

“You got it, boss!” Bomb winked again, strapping himself in. The truck's engine rumbled to life and the two set off with a new goal. 

The sun was finally beginning to set now. Long shadows casted from tall buildings and elevated roads painted the roads and sidewalks in interesting patterns. The sky had turned a vibrant red as the sun set. But the city was ever-busy as usual. The two ‘bots took a pit-stop and made their way down another avenue on foot.

“You know, the workers at the Robot Museum saw all of this ,” Bomb gestured to his deep Metal Blade wounds, “and they asked me if I got into a fight with Cut Man recently, hah!” 

“ Cut Man ? My Metal Blades are nothing like Rolling Cutter!” Metal said, annoyed. His ears twitched. He was better than Cut Man. Cut Man was his inferior original. 

“Idunno about all that ,” Bomb started, but was met with a sharp glare from the cutterbot, “I-I mean it's not my area of expertise! Cutting's not my game, not even hair!” 

Metal huffed.

“Now explosives? That's the good stuff. I know aaall about big, good boom-booms.” Bomb smirked. “I'm sure your buddy Crash Man feels the same way, too.” The Lightbot sighed lightly and put his arms behind his head. “Ah, Crash Man. My next-of-kin. My robotic heir.” He joked. 

“Stop?” Metal offered. 

“My handsome young man. My little orange. How he's grown up so fast… me and Gutsy are so proud of him.” Bomb continued, grinning. 

“Can you STOP? Stop being weird.” Metal pleaded. 

“Make sure you retrieve him and bring him back before 9 o'clock, okay, Metal? He deserves someone responsible and well-mannered.” He snickered and giggled. 

“Y'know, maybe I should try killing you again!” Metal barked. 

Bomb laughed loudly. “O-okay, okay, I'll stop! Don't get your wires twisted!” The Wilybot sighed exasperatedly. Why, of all Lightbots, did he end up teaming up with Bomb Man? 

The Lightbot eventually stopped in front of a store. Metal glanced up at the sign. E.K. Store. “E.K.?” He asked. 

“I… thiiink it's short for E-Konbini? But yeah, we can get some supplies here. You'll find these shops tucked away everywhere in Monsteropolis. You can get E-Tanks and other energy stuff all you want, here. Also, check this out,” Bomb tapped one of the signs on the glass window. It was a handwritten white sign that read in bold black marker: NO HAGGLING OR BARTERING . “That was courtesy of yours truly.” Bomb said proudly. 

Metal snorted behind his mask. “I would've just taken what I needed. No need for a conversation in the first place.” 

“I mean sure, you can do that, if you're quick enough not to get caught. Otherwise, you'll get blacklisted from all the stores, and then getting E-Tanks becomes a vending machine-themed nightmare for you.” The Lightbot shrugged. “And also, there's some fun in getting them to give you a better price.” 

“Hmph.” The two ‘bots entered the store. Metal's eyes scanned the area with greater interest now. This shop resembled the insides of what other small-scale stores he had seen throughout the city so far, but the store's inventory contained robot-specific goods beyond the scope of what Metal even knew existed. It was a cramped little shop, but the Wilybot looked somewhat like a child in a candy store. Batteries of all different kinds, energy containers, E-Tank cans, a locked section containing refined oils in bottles, repair kits and tools, coolants and oils, replacement parts for internals… Metal did not recognize everything here, but his mind raced with many different possibilities where he could see himself needing most of these things. Without thinking, he began to pack his backpack with multiple E-Tank cans, W-Tank cans, and tools. 

After filling his bag to a point he was satisfied with, he peeked his head over the short aisles to look for his Lightbot… cohort. He spotted Bomb with his own basket, full of E-Tank cans, and approached him. “Guess we had the same idea.” Metal said. 

“We’ve got a trip ahead of us, and we’re both old rustbuckets. I’m just trying to keep our bases covered for once.” Bomb smiled at the Wilybot. “I also wanted a little bit of Filler, too.” He held up a little tube full of some kind of gooey applicant. “Y’know, so folks stop questioning if you hit me with Rolling Cutter or not.” 

Metal looked away and crossed his arms. His eyes fell upon the shopkeeper, who met his gaze fairly quickly. The cutterbot’s eyes widened a little bit, and he tried to look away, but he was too late. 

“Oi!” The shopkeeper called to Metal, and gestured him over to him. Much to Metal’s dismay, Bomb pushed him towards the front register. “You look new around here. What’s your name, kid?” The shopkeeper’s voice was gruff, and his gaze was sharp. 

“Blade Man.” Metal lied through his teeth. 

“Ah. Unfortunate. Good luck with the name change soon, kid. And how’re ya doin’, Bomb Man? Please tell me you’re up to something good for once.” The shopkeep sighed. 

“Relax, Hex. I’m just getting ready for a little trip, that’s all.” Bomb replied. 

“A trip, huh? Going on vacation again?” 

“Something like that.” Bomb smiled. Behind him, Metal shifted awkwardly. 

The robot shopkeeper, Hex, eyed Bomb suspiciously, before looking at Metal again. “So, you gonna pay up or you gonna put all those E-Tanks back?” He said pointedly at the Wilybot. 

Metal fumbled for an immediate answer, but before he could get one out, Bomb stepped in. “We’re paying together, don’t worry!” The Lightbot elbowed Metal, who nodded stiffly and gingerly took out the contents of his backpack that he had been planning on stealing. 

Hex rang the two’s things up together. “Alright. That’ll be 2,150 Bolts.” He looked at the two Robot Masters expectantly. Bomb was digging through his compartments to scrounge up what Bolts he had on, or rather, in himself. 

Metal blinked and stared at Hex. “...bolts?” He asked. Like… machine bolts? Those kinds of bolts? Two-thousand of them?  

Bomb glanced up at the two with fistfuls of bolts and he laughed awkwardly. “Sorry Hex, it’s actually his first day online!” Metal shot Bomb a glare. “I’m just showing him the ropes around Monsteropolis. You know how it is with newbuilts.” 

Hex looked unimpressed. “Congratulations.” He droned. Bomb poured down what bolts he had onto the counter. Metal took note of Bomb’s bolt count. The bolts he was passing over to Hex looked different than the bolts he recalled Doctor Wily using to construct his robots with, nor perform repairs with. They also varied in sizes and shapes, too. “Kid, pay attention.” Hex commanded the cutterbot's attention. “Different sized Bolts are worth different amounts. Big ones are worth hundreds of little bolts at a time. Different shaped ones have specific amounts. Sometimes humans walk in here for whatever business they need, so check the chart here when you get confused.” He gestured to a poster plastered up on the wall behind him. It showed exactly how much each type of bolt was worth. The shopkeeper counted up what bolts Bomb dumped for him, and he glanced at the Lightbot. “You're still 430 short.” 

Bomb fumbled with his arm compartments, looking for any more bolts he had on his person. To his surprise, he came up empty-handed. “Scrap.” Bomb cursed. “I promise I got the bolts for you, I just gotta go back to my truck for ‘em.” He patted the cutterbot's side, which made Metal twitch. “Here, M– Blade. You stay put. I'm gonna be right back, Hex! I promise, this time!” He said as he bolted out of the store to his truck. 

The two remaining Robots stood around awkwardly. Metal brought his attention to the poster once more, studying the conversion amounts for this new currency. The shopkeeper pulled out an electronic cigarette, and took a drag from it. Eventually, one of them broke the silence. “Kid, listen here for a sec.” 

Once again, Metal’s gaze met the shopkeeper's. “I know you're not a newbuilt.” Hex stated. “I know a Wilybot when I see one.” Metal stared harder at him, silent. “A red-eyed walkin’ sawblade like you ain't got no reason to dice up a First Line Lightbot unless you've got personal beef with ‘em. And I saw you tryin’ to smuggle out my merch, too.” He leaned closer to the Wilybot. “You're not fooling anyone, kid. I'd normally kick you out myself, but Bomb Man looks like he trusts you. So you best better behave when you're in my shop , got it?” 

Metal Man did not answer him. He stared at him with a hardened, sharp gaze of his own. Hex took another hit of his e-cig and leaned back. 

Bomb Man stumbled back into the shop, huffing and panting. In his hand was a little sachet, presumably full of the remaining bolts needed. The rotund bomberbot caught his breath, and soon looked at the scene before him. His eyes widened slightly and he awkwardly laughed again. “Here ya go, chief. I've got more than enough now.” Bomb set down the sachet of bolts, its jingle satisfying enough to catch Hex's attention. The shopkeeper took the time to count up the remaining amount as Bomb quickly scooped up their purchase into Metal’s bag. Throwing it over his shoulder, he started hastily pushing Metal towards the exit. “Keep the change!” Bomb called as they left. 

Bomb grabbed Metal’s arm and dragged the Wilybot back towards their truck, powerwalking faster than the Wilybot had seen him before. “What happened?” Bomb asked in a hushed voice. 

“Nothing of interest.” Metal said back. 

“Okay sure. Budd– Metal, you definitely don't want to doublecross any of the E.K. shopkeep brothers. They're all sharp as a blade, and their stores are like lifelines for us on some days.” Bomb explained as he opened the door to his truck and tossed the backpack inside. 

The two climbed in and Bomb started the truck. Metal crossed his arms as he leaned back. “I was rusty this time around, but I could definitely get away with it.” 

“Hah, I doubt it. Their eyes are probably as sharp and attentive as yours are. You'd need to be really fast with it.” Bomb said, smiling. 

Metal put a hand to his masked chin. Really fast, huh? Some ideas began brewing in his mind, and his lips briefly pulled into a smirk. “By the way, what was up with the Bolts? I thought society still operated on Zenny currency.” 

“Yeah, it still does. But Zenny is what human establishments use. There'll be some places meant for robots that use Bolts instead of Zenny.” The Lightbot explained. “It's good to have both on you.”

“Huh,” is all the cutterbot replied with. Their truck soon made its way out of the busy streets of Monsteropolis, and onto one of the major highways that cut through the city. By the looks of it, they were heading to the north now, as the sun fully set to the west. 

“Now,” the bomberbot began, “Pass me that address again. How're you feeling now? Hopefully, a little better than this morning, right?” 

“Not until we get Crash online again.” Metal remained quiet for a moment as he retrieved the paper scrap and passed it. “...Better.” 

Bomb offered the cutterbot a wide smile as he reached for a little cellular phone resting on the truck's dashboard. He input the address into an app on it. The phone then seemed to show a map with a guiding line showing where to drive. They had a few hours to go before they reached Crash Man's station. 

“Soooooo,” Bomb Man started, pursing his lips amusedly, “You said you had a best friend earlier. Who's your bestie?” 

“None of your business,” Metal replied curtly. 

“Is it Crash Man?” Bomb cooed. 

“No.” 

“I figured as much. You didn't seem particularly thrilled or emotional about him.” The Lightbot commented. 

“Wha–? No, it's not that I'm not thrilled. I just… I never really knew Crash all that well before.” Metal explained. “We weren't even active for a year before we fought Megaman. And we're not some big happy family like you Lightbots are.” 

That got a scoff out of Bomb Man. “Pssh. Us? A happy family? You're kidding, right?” Metal gave him a curious look. “There is not a single day during our get-togethers or holidays at the Lab where Elec or Time doesn't lose their damn minds over something, or Cut gets some bright idea that gets all of us tilted at him, hahaha. And the arguments that me and Guts get into… well, I love the guy, but he really lights my fuse sometimes.” The Lightbot explained. “Rock and Roll might see us like familial siblings, but if you ask me? Other than Fire, they're all just linemates to me.” 

“Why Fire Man specifically?” Metal asked. 

“Well, we were finished and activated on the same day!” He said. “He's my little brother.” 

Oh. So, Metal thought to himself, like Quick and Crash, then?  

Before Bomb could continue, a little 8-bit tune started playing in the truck. A popup message appeared showing a phone number‐‐ one that Bomb seemed to recognize instantly. “Speaking of!” He grabbed the phone and swiped the Call button on the phone. He passed the phone to Metal. “Here, put me on speaker.” 

Metal took the phone and he looked over the cellphone confusedly. This phone was just a flat screen, where were the buttons? He hovered a finger over what he figured the speaker phone ‘button’ was and pressed hard. The voice on the other line grew much more audible. 

“Hey, hello?” The voice was rough. 

“Hey Gutsy, what's up?” Bomb Man announced loudly. “You're on speaker with me and Metal Man.” 

“Wh– The Wilybot? What're you doing with him?” 

Metal narrowed his eyes and scowled. Bomb flashed an awkward, apologetic smile his way. “It's cool, don't worry! What's up, dude?” 

“Well, uhh… I was gonna ask you if you were gonna be onsite tomorrow or not. The, uhhh… the boss ain't too happy about you calling out today.” Guts Man explained over the phone. 

Bomb glanced towards his phone. “Nahhh. We're heading up north right now. I might be gone for a few days at most.” 

“A few days?! You're pulling my leg, right?” 

“C'mon Guts, all of you guys can handle a job without me for a few days. We got most of the demolishing done, anyways.” Bomb said casually. 

“Yeah, but not all of it! And you know the boss doesn't like stalling on a job!” 

“Then get a different demolition robot to cover me then!” Bomb squawked back. 

“Yeah, like who?! You know bomb robots ain't exactly a popular type of ‘bot!” 

“Idunno, get Commando Man or something!” 

“Buddy, we're demolishing structures, not minesweepin’ the place.” Guts deadpanned over the phone. 

“Then get Blast Man or something! It cannot be that hard.” 

“ Blast Man? THAT lunatic? You trying to get the whole block leveled or something?! That guy doesn't know workplace safety even if it bit him in the ass!” 

“Then Idunno what to tell ya, man! I'm taking care of something really important here!” Bomb barked at the phone. 

“What's more important than this right now?! If we both end up getting our contracts terminated cuz of this, I'm blaming you entirely!” Guts Man retorted back. 

Bomb and Metal looked at each other. He smiled apologetically at the cutterbot again. “It's for Doc's experiment,” Bomb answered vaguely. “Look, I gotta drive, man. We can talk more about it later, yeah?” 

There was a brief pause on the other line. And then Guts Man spoke again, almost sounding like a sad puppy. Somehow. “But we were supposed to have karaoke night tomorrow…” 

Bomb couldn't help but laugh at his linemate. He did feel bad but… “Gutsy, you have gotta find some new people to sing with. I'm not always gonna be there every time, y'know! Now I've gotta go for real. Bye.” He looked at Metal and mouthed ‘hang up’ to him. 

“Awww…” Guts Man sounded disappointed. Not that it mattered to Metal Man, as he fumbled with the touch screen and ended the call a few seconds later. 

The Lightbot sighed lightly, and put a hand to his forehead. “Love that guy, but he's just as hotheaded as my boss. Hell, he's more hotheaded than Fire is!” 

“He sounds like a headache to deal with.” Metal sighed. Was Guts Man's only speaking volume ‘Loud and Yelling’? 

“Ah, he's a little rough around the edges, but he's a real sweet guy once you get to know him. There's a reason he and Oil are my two besties.” Bomb said, smiling widely to himself. 

“Hm.” That reminded him of someone he knew well. He passed the phone back to Bomb, who returned it to its resting spot. A glimpse at the home screen told the Wilybot that they still had some hours to go, so he relaxed back into his seat for now. 

The two Robot Masters drove for miles and miles north. Monsteropolis became but a small speck in their rearview mirror. Woods became forests, forests became hills, hills became mountains with long, winding roads snaking through them. The night sky twinkled alongside a shy moon. 

As they drove closer to their destination, they ascended hills and crawled up mountainsides and bridges. All of these forests were beginning to blur together for the Wilybot. It all reminded Metal of the forest he had gotten lost in, not even two days prior. For a moment, he wondered what Wood saw to be able to tell apart all these forests. What made them so special to him. …he supposed that if Wood were here, he would've asked him the same about his Station and any other snow-covered lands. His Factory was special, as was the island it sat upon. His personal winter wonderland, Metal thought, and chuckled to himself.

Bomb shot a curious look over Metal’s way, but didn't say anything. 

Metal gazed up at the half-moon. …he hasn't thought about all of his linemates this much in such a long time. Since that day… The day they said their goodbyes to one another, before stepping into the teleporters. 

He wondered what Crash Man was thinking in that final hour. He remembered his face: a thousand-yard stare towards his linemates, towards his older brother. 

He never realized it then, but the realization had been hitting him over the course of the day: Other than Air and Bubble… he really didn't know the rest of his linemates very well, did he? He always did keep to himself most of the time, but… well, he supposed he had time now to get to know them better. His Base destroyed, his Factory in ruins, Doctor Wily was missing, their plan had failed spectacularly. They were all he had left now. 

What a fool he was, Metal chastised himself. 

Their truck crawled up a winding road within tall, elevated woods, until they stopped in the middle of what looked like a small woodsy village. 

“... ...etal… Yo, Earth to Metal Man.” Bomb waved a hand in front of him. The cutterbot blinked rapidly and refocused his optics on the Lightbot. 

“Hm? Are we there yet?” Metal asked. 

“Almost,” Bomb smirked, “We're at the closest hamlet to where he's supposed to be. Metal, what did Crash Man's station look like 5 years ago?” 

It was a sight that was hard to forget. “A huge tower.” Metal started, “Impressively tall, made out of these yellow pipes. It had ladders that took you up into the skies. It was outfitted with turrets and plenty of satellite dishes.” 

“Okay, okay. Good to know. Now… there were directions on this paper,” Bomb scrutinized the paper slip and squinted at it. “A few turns onto some dirt roads, and we should be right at the tower then.” The Lightbot grinned and shifted the truck into motion again. Soon, they were off-roading down a dirt trail and Metal gripped at whatever he could for support. Just a few more turns around a cliff and down a hill and… 

and…

The truck stopped. Metal’s eyes widened. 

A huge clearing presented itself before them. What should have been the foundation to a large, imposing tower… was instead piles upon piles of yellow pipes, scrap metal, and debris. The dust had cleared long ago, and nature was attempting to take back the area. Rogue yellow pipes jutted out of the ground randomly all around the area. What once stood a great monument to Doctor Wily's conquest, now remained as ruins. 

The Wilybot took in the sight of the destroyed Tower, and his expression fell. The tower's structural integrity must have given out after his fight with Megaman. Crash… we all told you to be careful with those bombs… Or… did Megaman do this?  

His optics scanned the area immediately for any and all potential DWN bodies… or pieces, and came up with nothing. Where are you, Crash? “Oh, Crash…” Metal sighed sadly. 

Bomb looked up at him, concerned. “You think he's somewhere underneath all of this?” He asked carefully. 

“Definitely. Or he's buried somewhere further down.” Metal confirmed. He and Bomb got out of the truck. He walked into the center of the ruins, rescanning the area again. Did… the Tower collapse on top of him? Did it bury him? His circuits sped up, his fans began to whirr. He knew that Crash Man was a fortified, heavily armored robot, but despite his mind's best attempts at reassurance via logic, his growing worry and biting anxiety was not being quelled. He needed to find him and confirm the damages he had sustained himself. 

“Yeah… That reminds me, actually.” Bomb said. He jogged to the back of their truck, and after fumbling with a locking mechanism, swung its doors open. The shorter Lightbot dug into the back of the truck, until he found what he was looking for. “Hey Metal, catch!” 

Something was tossed his way, and with immaculate reflexes, the Wilybot caught it in his hand. It was… a shovel. 

Bomb held his own shovel in his hand and smiled. “The Robot Museum folks told me that we might need shovels. Fortunately for construction, demolition, and terraforming, I always come prepared.” 

Metal shook his head and he looked back at Bomb. “It's appreciated.” He gazed back at all the fallen pipes. “Before we get digging though, we should probably clear these pipes, first. See if he's stuck in any of them.” 

“Gotcha.” 

The two immediately got to work. Hauling individual pipes that comprised Crash Man's Tower was a grueling effort, to say the least. For Robot Masters like them, the pipes weren't too heavy to lift together. No, the issue was the sheer number of pipes. There had to have been thousands of pipes that made the former super-structure. 

The moon slowly shifted across the night sky. Endless lifting, carrying, throwing. With the inhuman stamina and strength of machines, the two robots’ combined efforts are able to make a larger dent than a team of humans could, but… it was still not enough. 

The sun was rising once more. The two had sat down on a fallen log for a break.

“Argh!” Metal threw his hands in the air and fell backwards over the log. He didn't even care. “Why did he even build something like this! Why couldn't he have requested normal materials?!” Metal suddenly vented. 

Bomb set down Metal’s backpack next to him. He sipped loudly at an E-Tank and sighed. “Tell me about it. What do you mean by ‘requested’?” 

Metal sat himself up, albeit letting his legs still hang over the log. “Wood Man, Heat Man, and I ran and managed Supply Operations. My Factory was able to produce some construction materials, but I mostly dealt with machines and subordinates for the rest of my linemates. But all Crash wanted was these stupid pipes and an insurmountable number of Pipis!” He said, frustrated. 

“Pipis?” Bomb asked. He passed an E-Tank to the Wilybot, who graciously swiped it, retracted his mask, and near-chugged the whole can in one go. He could tell the poor Wilybot was not designed with this kind of labor in mind. “You mean like the toys?” 

One of Metal's ears twitched at Bomb's question. “Toys? What are you talking about?” He asked. 

“Oh, you don't know? Pipis. They're little toy robots, y'know… The little toy birds? They're a big hit with little kids. They always sell like hotcakes during the holidays.” 

Metal glared at Bomb, “They're not– they're not toys!” He sighed tiredly. “They're supposed to be surveillance drones. Crash's station had a lot of them.” Presumably to send into Monsteropolis and other nearby cities, Metal realized. Another, more bitter realization hit him next. “Did the humans commercialize the Pipis?” 

“I'm afraid so, pal.” Bomb replied. 

“Ugh…” Metal groaned, getting up to his feet. Now he was worried what else the humans decided to bastardize while he was offline. If they even thought about touching his beloved Pierobots… He scowled. His scowl faced Bomb Man next, who was sipping loudly at his E-Tank. “Can't you use your Hyper Bomb to blow all this stuff away?” 

Bomb smacked his lips, which made the cutterbot's eye twitch. “I could. But didn't you say that your buddy might be lost in any of these piles of pipes? My Hyper Bomb is meant to destroy solid bedrock. If Crash Man happens to be in multiple pieces, I'd feel bad about blowing him up into even more pieces.” He said nonchalantly. 

Metal's scowl morphed into a frown. “There has got to be a better way to get through all of this…” 

More pipes removed. More scrap metal unearthed from the debris and pipe piles. Metal didn't bother to count how many mangled pieces and fragments of Pipis he found among the buried pipes. They were all unsalvageable in this state. The sun made its daily journey across the sky. A morning and afternoon spent clearing out pipes. No Crash Man found. Countless destroyed Pipis discovered. Another break taken, and Bomb applying Filler to his Metal Blade cuts. 

The sun near reaches the end of its journey and begins to set. The sky is red again. Fireflies gently light up the nighttime atmosphere. 

Another pipe, another step closer. Another pipe, another pipe closer– STEP closer. Metal repeated the mantra in his mind as he and Bomb hoisted up another huge pipe. But as they began to step down from the pile of debris and pipes, something caught the corner of Metal’s eye. He only needed to glimpse it for a second to know what it was. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped the pipe, suddenly weighing down Bomb in the process with a winded ‘Oof!’ 

“Hey, hey! Bomb Man, come here!” Metal called over. The cutterbot was crouching down and pulling something out from underneath a smaller pipe. Bomb approached him, and the Wilybot proudly showed him what he had found. “Now this one is fairly salvageable. This is an earlier model that I produced: It's purely designed for surveillance, and made to look as innocent and unassuming as possible, to blend in with towns and cities.” In Metal Man's hands, an inactive Pipi sat comfortably. There was a gaping hole in its back and it had a damaged dorsal fin, but otherwise, it looked decently intact. 

“Aw. I think I can see that. It looks just as cute as the toy versions.” Bomb said, smiling. 

Metal turned the Pipi to face Bomb. The cutterbot's eyes shone with interest. He pointed to the eyes. “The pupils of the Pipi are camera lenses that can zoom in by a few miles each. There's a heavy, outer lens that covers the outside of its optics to prevent any damages to it. The recording software and footage was further in its body.” He reached his hand into the Pipi via its gaping hole, and reached for something inside the Pipi. “It also– had a cutesy vocalization device in it, too.” 

His fingertips reached something inside the inner workings of the Pipi. The bird robot suddenly let out a cute ‘beep-beep!’ 

The Lightbot smiled sweetly. “Aww, cute!” 

However, Metal Man was not smiling. 

“That's not what it's supposed to sound like…” Metal muttered, still fumbling with the internal mechanisms of the Pipi. 

Bomb pointed casually at the Pipi, “Aw, look! It's glowing too.” 

Metal froze. “Glowing?”  

He looked down at the backside of the Pipi. Something inside the Pipi was glowing and blinking bright orange. 

“Oh scrap.” Metal immediately felt inside the Pipi for the source of the glowing and nearly ripped it out. “Oh scrap.” That was most DEFINITELY a Crash Bomber. Rapidly blinking and about to explode. “Scrap, scrap, scrap, SCRAP‐‐” 

“Gimme that–!!” Bomb yelled, snatching it out of Metal’s hand and throwing it into the air. The Lightbot quickly worked to drag the Wilybot as far from the pipes as he could. The blinking Crash Bomber fell to the ground, in front of where they cleared the pipes. Bomb instinctively threw himself over Metal and the Pipi to shield them. 

BOOOOOOOOOM!!

The Crash Bomber immediately erupted violently into a large, loud explosion as soon as it touched the ground. Dirt, shrapnel, pipes, and debris flew EVERYWHERE. Pieces bounced off of Bomb Man as he curled himself over the Wilybot. 

But it didn't stop there. The ground trembled beneath them. Pipes on the surface rattled noisily. 

BOOOOM!! BOOOM!! BOOOOM!! BOOOM!! 

Some kind of chain reaction sounded off, violent, loud explosions filling the silence of the night. Dirt exploded and flew high into the air from deep below. Some of the remaining pipes left around slid down into the large crater forming from the Crash Bombers. 

…

… 

Bomb blinked and looked behind him. Metal opened his eyes. 

Was it over? 

“Dang… Those were some good boom-booms, haha!” Bomb lightly laughed. He got up and looked back at the cutterbot. “Are you okay?” He offered him a hand. 

Metal took his hand and slowly got up. “I'm alright.” He gently set down the intact Pipi on the ground, away from the blast site. “What the hell…” He muttered. Before them both, a smoking crater now sat exactly where they were standing moments earlier. 

“Why was there a bomb inside that Pipi?” Bomb asked. 

“I don't know. I'm going to ask Crash as soon as we get him online,” Metal sighed. 

The two made their way closer to the crater to examine the damage. Well, this was certainly one way to clear out more of the former Tower's pipes. The inside of the crater was littered with smoking metal parts, Pipi shrapnel, pipes jutting out of the ground… and something else. Metal's eyes widened immediately and with a great leap, jumped right into the crater. He crawled over the debris and damaged pipes over to what he spotted. 

A drill was sticking out of the side of the crater. 

He gripped at the base of the drill with both hands, at the dirty orange forearm just barely peeking out of the wall of earth, and pulled. He heaved and pulled as hard as he could, gritting his teeth. “C'mon!” Metal growled, putting his weight into it. The drill slowly, but surely gave way, and began to pull at his command. With another heave and pull, Metal ripped the Robot Master out of the scorched earth. Or rather… his arm. 

The cutterbot stumbled backwards and fell. In his hands was undoubtedly the arm and drill of Crash Man… but… where was the rest of him? 

“Are you good?” Bomb called from the high edge of the crater. 

“Yeah,” Metal breathed. He looked down at the arm in his hands. It was filthy and dented. “We definitely need those shovels now!” He called back to him. 

With progress having been made, and newly lit determination in their cores, the two got to digging. Crash Man was absolutely buried somewhere underneath these ruins. They just needed to figure out where . Their digging continued long into the night. Unearthed Pipi parts, pipes, and unactivated Crash Bombers. Metal was not going to give up any time soon. Crash's arm was enough proof that he was here, he was here . They were going to find him. 

The sun rose once more. Their crater had expanded since they began digging. 

Metal sighed and took a moment to himself. He let his internal fans cool down his body. He didn't give himself a break all night. He looked behind himself to find Bomb diligently working the other half of the crater. He had to keep going. Just another few feet of dirt. Crash had to be somewhere here. 

The Wilybot nodded to himself and took a deep breath through his mask. He lifted his shovel and plunged it into the raw earth below him. But his shovel hit something hard. Metal groaned and began to dig around the hard object. Another pipe in his way. Piles of dirt removed from below him. But… This was no pipe. 

Metal recognized that armor anywhere. His eyes lit up excitedly. He began to dig around the orange armor, to free his linemate from the earth that consumed him. “Bomb!” Metal called out. “I found him!” He found him, finally.  

He reached down and gripped the exposed shoulder. He pulled with great force and lifted Crash Man out of the ground… except… 

He was missing his head entirely. 

Metal set down the body carefully and carefully examined him. The first thing he immediately noticed was a huge gaping hole in the back of his torso armor. What visible internals he saw looked completely wrecked and melted. His torso was completely missing his arms from his sockets as well. The chest gem was cracked badly. One of his legs was missing from the knee down. Metal grimaced. He hoped that he only sustained these damages after he had already gone offline… 

Bomb Man didn't meet him immediately. Instead, he called back out to him as well. “I think I found him too!” He said. 

Metal gently laid his linemate's body down against the freshly moved earth. He shuddered and made his way across the crater. He reached the Lightbot as he was shoveling something out of the wall of dirt. A visor, and a helmet, caked in dirt and dust. 

There was his head. Bomb pulled the head out carefully from its grave, and he gently brushed the excess dirt away from the helm. “I think this is the most of him we're going to find here.” Bomb said quietly. His expression looked melancholic. 

“Yeah.” Metal agreed. “Can… I look at him?” He asked. 

“Here.” Bomb passed him over to the Wilybot. 

Metal gingerly took his linemate's head into his hands, and slowly sat down. He examined his head with the same care as the rest of his body. The helmet was dented in multiple places, and the protective visor he normally sported was badly cracked. Underneath the visor, another gaping hole replaced what should have been Crash Man's face. There was nothing there now but ruined, melted steel and internals. …well. One thing remained intact inside Crash's head. Metal gently cleaned out the dirt and dust inside Crash, before so carefully reaching inside his head. There had better NOT be any surprise Crash Bombers in here this time. 

He grabbed at something and carefully pulled it out of him. Thankfully, it was not a Crash Bomber. 

A black, protective casing of sorts sat in Metal's hand. It was small, sturdy, and outfitted with ports. It was coated in dirt and dust. Bomb’s eyes widened in recognition and he immediately looked it over with Metal. He so-carefully checked it over from all angles. The Lightbot determined something and sighed in relief, setting it back gently in Metal's hand. “It wasn't busted open, thank everything. He's safe.” Bomb said softly. 

“This is…” Metal breathed, staring at the small black case, “his I.C. Chip. It's undamaged?”

“Yeah. Thank goodness.” 

Metal stared at the casing in his hand. Inside it, his I.C. Chip rested. His entire life sat in the palm of his hand. Metal’s eyes blinked away any wetness that threatened to form. Crash Man was alright. He was alright. He's going to be safe. He would protect him. “Thank everything,” he whispered. “I've got you.” He spoke softly to the part in his hand. He took another deep breath, to relax and calm himself. 

He sat upright and moved his free hand to his own chest gem. He twisted and pushed it down into himself, before nimbly moving his fingers to fumble with some unseen locks underneath the blue section of his chest armor. An audible click and hiss were heard, as the Wilybot’s front torso sections opened themselves up and exposed his internal mechanisms deep within. Bomb’s eyes widened and he quickly looked away from the Wilybot, hiding a small blush. Metal closed his eyes, and carefully felt inside himself for an acceptable opening. He took Crash's I.C. Chip casing, and so carefully and gently slotted it into a small open space, next to his active core. He was going to keep Crash safe . If anyone wanted his I.C. Chip, they'll have to take it from my smoking corpse , Metal concluded. 

His chest hatches closed themselves. Metal breathed slowly, letting himself relax and ease his nerves. Crash was safe. Nobody else got to him first. He will take care of his linemate. He slowly stood up, holding what remained of Crash's head in one arm. Before anything else, though… 

He walked over to the rotund bomberbot and he put a hand on his shoulder. Bomb flinched slightly and looked up at the cutterbot. Metal retracted his mask, and for the first time, his scarred lips pulled into a light, tired smile. “Thank you.” 

Bomb’s eyes widened and he looked away again. “I-it's nothing. I'm just helping out another Robot Master,” He said, smiling sheepishly. 

“You didn't have to go this far for me, though,” Metal said. “You didn't have to lose your job for me.” 

“H-hey! Who said I was losing my job, huh?!” Bomb suddenly barked. “We'll be back in time… I won't get in too much trouble, eheheh…” He scratched his cheek. “But, uh… ahaha… we should probably head back as soon as we can.” 

“I agree. Let's get out of this dump.” Metal said. Bomb hopped to his feet and the two collected all their findings: Crash Man's body, his arm, and the Pipi. They carefully loaded everything into their truck. The two hopped into their seats, and Bomb turned the vehicle on. Metal leaned back in his seat and relaxed. 

Bomb checked his phone again to set their next destination: Light Laboratories. But as he checked his notifications, his eyes widened and a sudden, dreadful feeling sank into his robotic gut. 

[10 missed calls from Guts Man.] 

[2 missed calls from Doctor Light.] 

[ 4 new voicemail messages.] 

“Ah, scrap…” Bomb cursed. “Yeah, uh… We should probably head back ASAP. Hope you don't mind if I drive a little fast.” 

“Not at all,” Metal said, casually bracing himself. 

Their little truck turned around, and with a sudden roar of its engine, raced back to civilization as fast as it could. 

Chapter Text

It was another beautiful summer weekend in Monsteropolis. The sun shone brightly, gentle breezes rode along the wind. It was a perfect day for humans and robots alike to kick back and relax. 

Unless one were DLN-006 Bomb Man, of course. 

The Lightbot's little truck cut through the city with ease, and roared down the very same highway that kickstarted his most recent endeavors. The man in question set his lips in a firm line, as his ‘cohort’ played out his voicemails to him: 

“Bomb, this was a mistake– definitely a mistake. He can't do anything right! And he's got a mouth on ‘im! I really hope you come back sooner than later, dude.” 

“I swear I'm about to blow my lid– This guy is gonna get a pounding if… huh. Wait. W-wait, wait! Don't set it off yet–! [ BOOOOOM–] ” 

“...Where are you, buddy? My favorite lil’ guy got blown to smithereens thanks to Blast Man. Come back soon…” 

“Hello, Bomb Man. This is Doctor Light calling. I just received a call from your contracted boss just now about you being absent from work? Guts Man also told me that you were taking care of something important. I sincerely hope that you are safe, wherever you are. And… while I do not like to jump to conclusions, this is not the first time I have heard about you skipping your work in favor of something else. Please give me a call whenever you can so I can understand what's going on. Be safe.”

… 

Bomb stared at the road ahead of him. His expression grew into something of despair. “...I am so boned.” 

The Wilybot watched the bomberbot amusedly. He stifled a laugh at his situation. He put the cellphone back in its designated place on the dashboard. “I told you,” he said. 

“We're so losing this gig,” Bomb continued to bemoan. 

“At least you're losing your job over something that matters.” Well. Matters to me, at least, Metal thought.

“I don't know how I'm gonna justify to my boss and the others that I was gone because I was helping you bring another Wilybot online. Just to be clear, I don't have any issues with you guys, it's just… everyone else does.” Bomb sighed. 

Metal put his free hand on his masked chin and gave it some thought. “You can just tell them that you were assisting Doctor Light with a project. Technically, you wouldn't be wrong.” This entire experiment is to see if Robot Masters can make major decisions without the influence nor orders from Doctors and humans, right? This… this is what he wanted. He wanted his linemates back. Maybe then he could figure out what to do next. 

“I guess so. I'm just hoping that they don't call Doctor Light again. I really don't want to talk to him about it.” Bomb explained. 

“You probably won't have to, since I'm heading there today with Crash.” Metal said. In his other arm, he had held his linemate's head the whole car ride. He had been gazing into the gaping hole that currently replaced his face. 

Bomb snorted and smiled. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” he joked. He received a pointed look from Metal, and he laughed. He glanced back at the cutterbot and raised an eyebrow. “So what's next after this for you? What's on the agenda for the first ever Wilybot with freedom?” 

“Don't call me that.” Metal retorted, “We had freedoms…” …somewhat. We could still do what we wanted when we didn't have work or training. Or when Doctor Wily didn't need us. He had a purpose to fulfill, and daily tasks to accomplish. His free time was brief but he spent it however he liked. That was good enough for him. We were under Doctor Wily’s care and protection. That was all he could ask for, then. It had to be. “...I haven't decided yet.” 

“It's cool,” Bomb replied. “You've got a lot of free time now. You'll figure something out.” The cutterbot didn't answer him. 

The two sat in silence for a short while. They were approaching the Monsterica Mountain Range slowly but surely. The Lightbot fidgeted quietly, before shooting the cutterbot another glance. “Do you normally stare inside robots like that?” 

Metal’s ears perked a little before averting his eyes away from the head in his hands. “No.” 

“Then what's up?” 

Metal hesitated a little, before speaking quietly. “When Crash gets repaired, he needs a new face. It's just… I can't– I… I don't remember how his face exactly looks.” Admittedly, he hadn't spent a lot of time around Crash Man when he was last active. He could clearly recall every little detail of Air Man and Bubble Man's designs, but… those were the two Robot Masters he had spent the most time with. Crash Man usually hovered behind Quick Man whenever he briefly saw him. And Quick Man… was loud and annoying. Not to mention that Crash's helmet visor always seemed to cast a shadow over what parts of his face were visible either way. 

Crash Man had a pale complexion and freckles. He had sharp teeth and a small nose. His eyes… he could not remember his eyes, or any details above his nose. Metal chastised himself for his poor memory. His past antisociality was rearing its head in unexpected ways. 

“Huh…” Bomb mused. “Well, I'm no help here. I've never properly met any of you before this weekend. But hey, maybe Rock might remember how he looks.” 

“I think I'd rather self-destruct than let Megaman get near Crash or myself.” 

The Lightbot couldn't help himself but laugh loudly. The cutterbot glared at him with a subtle blush and a scowl behind his mask. Bomb could understand Metal’s feelings, but he also couldn't forget that Rock is literally a ten year-old child. 

Granted… Rock was a ten year-old who could throw hands. He did get incinerated by Fire Storm once upon a time ago by said child. 

“Well, like I said, you've got the time now. You might remember one day. And you never know. Maybe Crash Man will like his new face instead.” Bomb said, smirking. Their little truck began to slow down in their lane, before taking an exit. Soon enough, they turned onto a small little dirt road. A couple dozen feet away on the little hill before them sat Light Laboratories. Bomb turned the truck off.

“Alright, here's your stop.” Bomb chirped, hopping out. Metal put on his backpack and followed suit, and the two unloaded the fallen Robot Master’s pieces from the back of the truck. Metal hoisted Crash Man's limp body over one of his shoulders, and held his head and forearm with his other arm. 

“Hey.” Metal looked at the Lightbot directly. At least for a few seconds before he broke eye contact and looked elsewhere. “Thanks again for your help.” 

“Psssh. It's nothing, really.” Bomb said, smiling back at him. “It's just what friends do, right?” 

“We're not friends.” Metal replied. His ear twitched. “We're still enemies.” 

Bomb exhaled quietly and smiled knowingly at him. “Whatever you say, Metal Man. Catch you later, dude.” He said, before commenting quietly, “Time to face the music…” 

Metal watched the bomberbot climb back into his truck and soon, drove off and out of sight. With his linemate in tow, he turned to face Light Laboratories next. Bomb Man had a situation he needed to confront. And now he had his own situation as well. He briefly recalled something from that fateful day, five years ago. Robot Masters keep fighting, even if they're terrified. Quick Man had told them all that, before they fought Megaman for the last time. It didn't help him feel any better back then, but perhaps what he said had some merit now. Metal Man took a deep breath, and began to trudge up the hilly dirt path to the cozy home. 

He stood in front of the door to the home. A few days prior, he had stood in this very spot, terrified of the unknown and the vast world before him. And after all of this? …he was still scared, to be honest.  But he made progress in something, at least. He huffed through his mask vents. He found himself a temporary place to stay at, to lay low. He explored and got himself familiar with a little part of Monsteropolis, even if he needed help. He located Crash Man's station and found his body and I.C. Chip. This all has to mean something. He still hadn't gotten any recent news or information regarding his Doctor, but… he was establishing a ‘base’ for himself. He was getting his linemates back together. He was progressing in something. 

…I still don't know what I am doing with my life, Metal thought. The cutterbot sighed to himself. It's time for him to ‘face the music,’ too.

He gently set down Crash's forearm, and awkwardly rang the doorbell with the rest of his body in his arms. 

… 

Nobody answered the door. Metal glanced over at the little vehicle parked in the driveway; somebody had to be home. He waited patiently. 

… 

Eventually, he heard light footsteps from inside approaching him. The door clicked open and Metal Man met with a familiar face. It was the little girl robot from his first day reactivated. Her eyes widened in recognition seeing him. 

“Oh, Metal Man! You're back. What brings you here so…” Roll trailed off, laying her eyes on why exactly Metal was here. She inhaled sharply and brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh… my…” The Wilybot was holding a filthy, damaged, headless Robot Master over his shoulder. This wasn't Roll’s first time seeing the casualties of the Wily Wars, but it definitely wasn't the first thing she planned to see right after getting lunch started. She tore her eyes away from Crash Man's mangled body and met Metal’s eyes. She seemed to acknowledge something quickly and she turned around. “I-I'll go get Doctor Light!” She headed right for the elevator in the main living room. 

Metal gingerly stepped inside the Light household with his linemate in tow. He looked around the room, taking in the details of the residential half of this Lab. The front entrance led to a cozy living room, its walls lined with framed photographs of robots and humans he couldn’t recognize. The setting was alien to him. He leaned against the couch closest to him. Finally, some time to himself. …I haven’t slept in days. Metal thought, realizing now the lag he felt both physically and cognitively. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, and adjusted his grip on Crash’s body. He’ll find some reprieve soon. Him and Crash both. He let his mind drift. 

He had a new objective, for now: find his missing linemates. But… what happens after that? And what about Doctor Wily? Where was he? Does… the Doctor even know what he’s doing right now? He knew how Doctor Wily wanted to move forward with their global domination initiative, once they defeated Megaman. He knew those plans and schemes quite well, he had it memorized thoroughly. But… Metal’s brows furrowed. There was one thing that always puzzled him about it. Doctor Wily… wasn’t always clear with his answers sometimes. Vague sentiments from years past trudged themselves out of the recesses of Metal’s mind, for a moment. 

Before he could give them more concise thought, however, an elevator ring brought the cutterbot’s attention back to the present. A steel door slid open before him, and the sickly form of Doctor Light stepped into the Wilybot’s view. Metal waited patiently. 

Roll trailed behind Doctor Light, holding onto the roboticist’s hand. Her eyes met his, and then Metal’s eyes met the doctor’s. The doctor’s eyes fell upon him and his linemate. “Metal Man? What’s this?” Doctor Light began, his eyes widening. “Who is…? Is this…?” 

“Doctor Light,” Metal Man started formally, “This is Crash Man. He is my linemate, from the Second Wily War. I found him, with help. Bomb Man gives his regards.” 

The good doctor huffed. “Well, I suppose that answers my questions regarding Bomb Man…” He commented, before focusing on Crash Man. “I must give you my apologies. It has been a number of years since I’ve last seen most of your fellow linemates, so his name has slipped my mind.” 

“...” The Wilybot nodded silently. As frustrating and offensive as it was to find Crash Man so… forgettable, he knew that humans did not have a perfect sense of memory like robots did. He could not be angry right now. Not when he needed to get Crash online, and when Doctor Light was the key for exactly that. “It’s alright,” Metal grunted. “I came here with him, to request your services. Y-your assistance, I mean.” 

Doctor Light stepped closer to the cutterbot, and Metal resisted the urge to take a step back. The Doctor seemed to have noticed his hesitation, and the Wilybot averted his eyes elsewhere. “May I take a look at him?” Doctor Light asked. Metal hesitated again. 

“...yes.” He answers, shifting to move the drillbot’s body parts. He laid Crash Man gently against the nearest wall, sitting him up nicely. Immediately, the doctor examined him with interest in his eyes. He seemed to assess the damages, gingerly feeling along the warped and damaged steel. Doctor Light checked the inside of Crash Man’s head next. Metal watched him like a hawk. “Where is his I.C. Chip, if I may ask?” 

“It’s with me.” Metal Man answered.

“Good, good.” Doctor Light said. “His damages are severe in some areas, but with an intact I.C. Chip, we could restore him back to mint condition. It would definitely take some time and effort, however.” 

Metal Man perked up. “Really? Er–” He cleared his voice. “I mean, that is excellent to hear. I would really like this.” 

“Well, that makes two of us!” Doctor Light agreed, chuckling as he very gently set Crash Man’s head back into his own lap. “We could get him restored to perfect condition, and we could get so much data from him! I’m certain that the Robot Museum’s staff would greatly appreciate the opportunity to preserve him and keep him safe as well.” 

What .  

The Wilybot’s eyes widened. No, no, that is not where Crash is going. Not on my watch. “W-what– Robot Museum?” Metal gawked. 

“Oh! My apologies again! I don’t believe I’ve ever informed you about it.” Doctor Light admitted sheepishly. A hand came up to stroke his beard and prepare for an infodump. “The Robot Museum is an establishment in inner Monsteropolis that a number of roboticists and I–” 

“No– I know what it is,” Metal cut him off. “That’s not what I meant. I–” He frowned behind his mask. “My apologies for acting rudely. I, I brought him here so you could repair and reactivate him. I don’t want him to sit prettily in a museum.” He explained. “I need him online, with me.” 

Doctor Light’s eyes slowly widened. “...Online again?” He searched the little Wilybot’s eyes. His red optics looked serious to him. “I… er, I’m sorry, Metal Man. But I’m afraid I would not be able to bring him back online. My sincere apologies.” Doctor coughed into his hand lightly. 

“Why not?” Metal asked him suddenly. It was now his turn to search the doctor’s eyes. “You said just before that you could restore him to perfect condition!” He took a step forward, a step to wedge himself between Crash and the Light family. “I have his I.C. Chip, it is perfectly doable!” 

“Y-yes, it is doable,” the doctor agreed with him. “However, I personally do not find it reasonable to bring him back online.” Roll quietly stayed by his side as the two conversed. 

“How so?” Metal challenged. 

“Well,” Doctor Light stroked his beard again, pensive, “Crash Man is an explosives-specialized Robot Master, is he not? His Special Weapon was specifically designed to be capable of immense wanton destruction. He was built without a designated career, nor any of the safety precautions necessary to operate in our society.” He explained. 

“So you think that he is too dangerous to even have a chance at being active again? That–” Metal’s hands balled into fists. Stay calm, Metal. “That I’m worthy of this opportunity, but he isn’t?” 

“It’s not that he isn’t worthy,” Light defended, “but somebody like Crash Man poses a significant risk…” 

“But I don’t? ” Metal shot back, mildly bewildered. “Doctor Light, I am a Doctor Wily Number. I was built to defeat Megaman, to subjugate, and to kill . You may have absolved me of fulfilling my original purpose, but… you still brought me online in the first place. You still took a risk with me!” He objected. 

Doctor Light sighed and furrowed his brows. “I am sorry, Metal Man. But I cannot, in good conscience, bring your linemate back online, where he currently stands.” 

“Please,” Metal asked. It was not often that he said ‘please . ’ Let alone plead to his enemy . “I– I can watch him. I can supervise him.” 

“No. I’m sorry.” 

Doctor Light was standing his ground firmly, and Metal’s options were shrinking around him. He couldn’t just threaten him with his Metal Blades to get what he wanted, damn those Three Laws! He could always escape again: run away with Crash’s I.C. Chip and his body, but… he didn’t really have a place to keep him safe, nor did he know anyone who could repair him. And he was NOT going to have Crash collect dust in some museum and become an object to be ogled at by humans all day . He was running out of options, and he needed to change Doctor Light’s mind somehow, some way. 

Metal decided then to whip out a technique that he had learned only from the best. He took another step towards the good Doctor and Roll, before dropping onto his hands and knees. He bowed his head low, and he threw away what shreds of dignity he still had . Roll gave him a weird look from Doctor Light’s side. “What are you–” 

“Please, Doctor Light. Please, please bring Crash online.” Metal begged. He bowed his head again and again. “I promise that I will look after him and keep him from harming humans. Please. I’ll do anything to have him reactivated again.”

Doctor Light looked at Metal a little bewildered, and admittedly flustered. The way that he argued with him, and the way that he pleaded and begged now… This is definitely Albert’s creation, Light thought to himself. “Metal Man,” he began, “Please. You don’t have to beg.” 

Metal peeked up at Light from the floor. “You’ll do it?” 

Light cleared his throat. “I will consider it, but before I change my mind, we need to discuss how this can work without it… well, for a lack of a better description, blowing up in our faces, so to say.” 

And just as fast as he dropped to his knees, Metal sprang back up on his feet. “Oh, yes, I agree! We can definitely discuss it!” He said a little too enthusiastically for his own comfort. He felt like such a kissass right now. But he’s gotten Doctor Light to consider it now, which is progress towards getting Crash repaired and online again. This is for Crash, Metal told himself. This is for him. 

Doctor Light coughed into his hand once more, before reaching for his handkerchief. He shuffled over to the couches, and gestured towards Metal. “Co-me sit with me, little one,” he said, sitting down gently. Roll took a seat next to him. The cutterbot followed suit, taking a seat on another couch nearby. “If we were to bring Crash Man online, hypothetically,” the doctor began, “how do you think you would be able to keep him out of harm’s way? Or prevent him from harming others, let alone destroy, as an example, entire buildings, streets, blocks of civilization?” 

Metal sat upright in his seat. His ear twitched. Do not mess this up, he told himself mentally. He considered his words carefully. “...I can only speak from my own experiences as a fellow Wilybot. We were built and programmed to follow our Master’s orders. Conquest and violence was our directive, but not our nature. It’s not in our programming.” Not to his surprise, he was met with a look of mild skepticism from the two Lights. “You must believe me. Please believe me.” He paused, before adding more. “Without orders from Doctor Wily, we do not– we don’t, we don’t cause problems. We look after one another. We care about each other.” 

The good doctor took his words to consideration, closing his eyes for a moment. Metal waited anxiously. “And if Crash Man were to decide to bring unprecedented destruction to humanity, despite this?” 

Metal steeled himself and swallowed. “It is his decision to make by then, if he knows of the consequences that follow.” Metal’s eyes suddenly widened. An idea hatched within his mind, but… the very thought put a sour taste on his palate sensors. He felt a tightness somewhere within his torso. “I have not been able to harm humans ever since you have reactivated me and… modified me.” He let out a resigned exhale. “If his destructive capabilities truly concern you so much that you would hesitate to help, then… t-then what if you included him in our experiment?” He closed his eyes. “He would not be able to bring harm to humanity, …even if he wanted to.” Metal gripped at the bodysuit that covered his legs. “I could watch over him, I could keep the both of us safe. We could… figure out how we want to progress forward.” 

“That does remind me, actually. How has it been for you, Metal Man?” Doctor Light asked. “Have you figured out anything that you would like to try or do yet?” 

Metal sighed and opened his eyes again. “It’s been… challenging, if I am fully honest. And… I still don’t know yet.” 

“Well,” Roll added, “That’s okay! Figuring out what you want to do with your life isn’t easy for humans, and not for robots– erm, well, robots in situations like yours. It might take some time before you settle on something.” 

The Wilybot ignored Roll for now and faced Doctor Light. “What do you think, Doctor? You have asked me to make decisions for myself, and, well… I think this is my first decision I am making. I do not want to be alone in this world. I want my linemates with me.” 

Doctor Light’s mouth was set into a more firm line as he gave it more thought. His eyes met Metal’s, and held eye contact. Metal looked away, before darting back at him nervously. “You would want him to join you in my experiment? I do not mind being able to monitor his progress as well, but… are you certain?” 

What other choices were available? He didn’t WANT Crash to get modified, but if he said no now, he now knew what would become of him, what his fate would be. If Crash is to sit in the Robot Museum and become an artifact, it should be Crash’s decision, no one else’s. He should be able to make that decision on his own. “...yes,” Metal relented. “Let him join our experiment. I will personally make sure that he does not level Monsteropolis.” The cutterbot lightly chewed on his lip behind his mask. Uneasiness settled within him. He felt as though he was making a dangerous deal. Crash Man’s purpose, in exchange for his life. 

The sickly doctor stood up. “Very well, then. I can bring him back online. I am going to take your word and trust you on this, Metal Man.” Roll smiled at the Wilybot and got up to go to the kitchen once more. Metal himself stood up and followed after the doctor. 

“Thank you sincerely, Doctor. You will not regret this.” 

Once more, the wine red Wilybot found himself in the very laboratory that he awoke in days prior. He hauled Crash Man’s body parts on Doctor Light’s instruction, gently setting him down on an operation table. He looked at him once more before asking the Doctor. 

“Do you need space to work on him?” Metal asked. 

“Actually, I do prefer to have an assistant on hand with me normally. Would you mind assisting me today?” Doctor Light asked. He then continued, not waiting for an answer. “We can extract most of his specifications and design notes through his I.C. Chip, but there are some details that I may need to cross-check with you for this, Metal Man. May I have his I.C. Chip, by the way?” He asked. 

Metal nodded, and wasted no time in opening up his chassis to gently pick out the precious thing within– the protective black casing that held Crash Man’s I.C. Chip. He held it protectively in his hands, passing it carefully to the roboticist. The good doctor didn’t blink or react to his methods, but rather focused on the chip’s casing. “By Asimov, it’s a miracle that this is in such good condition. Do you recall how Megaman defeated him?” 

“I, er, I don’t.” Metal said. “But we– Bomb Man and I– found him buried in the ground with plenty of Crash Bombers. I would guess that he fell from the top of his Tower when Megaman ki– won against him.” 

“I see…” Doctor Light mused, stroking his beard. But before he could continue that train of thought, footsteps sounded within the far side of the laboratory. “Ah, that reminds me!” 

Metal’s ears twitched as he picked up on the sound of another voice. A Robot Master whom he did not recognize. He closed his chassis immediately and faced the robot in question, who now approached them. Before the two of them was a large robot who lacked a neck, a design choice that reminded Metal of his linemate Air Man. He sported red, black, and white armor, with tall spouts at his head reminiscent of the First Line Lightbot, Fire Man. He lacked hands entirely, two arm cannons replacing them instead. 

The robot’s voice was deep and flat. “Doctor Light,” he said, “I finished the armor pieces you requested, with help.” His blue eyes fell upon Metal. “Who’s this?” 

“This is Metal Man, a Wily Robot Master who is assisting me with an important project,” Doctor Light said without skipping a beat. The Robot Master in question looked at the Wilybot, and Metal could swear that he was lifting an imaginary eyebrow at him. 

“My name is Magma Man,” the Lightbot introduced himself. “I make Parts nowadays.” 

“Yes, this is one of my Robot Masters, Magma Man. I had him over today to request for his help with forging new parts for his fellow comrades from the 9th Wily War.” Doctor Light explained. 

“I see…” Metal Man said quietly. The two Robot Masters stared at each other for a moment, neither of them really having much else more to say. Metal was the first to blink and break the silence. “Are you going to make parts for my linemate?” 

“No.” Magma Man answered shortly. 

“Well…” Doctor Light interjected gently, “I know that you are done for the day, so please forgive my intrusion. But I did want to ask you if, just for this one time, you could help us with creating new parts and armor pieces for this Robot Master?” 

Magma looked between Crash Man, Metal Man, and Doctor Light. He blinked. “Sure.” 

Well, that settles that, Metal thought to himself. Doesn’t seem to be a chatty robot. It was something he appreciated, truthfully. The fatigue was beginning to hit him, finally. He just needed to assist Doctor Light with repairing Crash Man, and then he could enter Sleep Mode and recharge. If he had to socialize with a new Robot Master, a Lightbot at that, on top of everything he has done already so far, he may just collapse. Or start screaming. Or both, he thought. 

Doctor Light was at his computer terminal and many monitors. He had plugged multiple older wires into the I.C. Chip protective casing’s ports and was receiving information on a few of his smaller monitors. Old, forgotten data filled the screens. The old man absorbed it with interest. 

“Hm… I see… So the production of his Crash Bombers was within his chassis rather than his forearms. And his outer body is primarily composed of graphene-reinforced steel and carbon fibers, with tungsten-carbide drills. Interesting, indeed.” He exclaimed, eyes glued to the screen. He continued to read the specifications of the Robot Master. “Yes… yes, I see. Albert, your creations are no less than impressive with every build you make,” He murmured to himself, earning a surprised look from Metal. He turned to face his helper of the day. “Yes, we can get to work. We first need to disassemble him, and determine how many parts and internals need replacements… … …” 

Hours passed on within the laboratory, but to someone like Doctor Thomas Light, time was an imaginary construct. Not too dissimilarly to his own doctor, Doctor Light works tirelessly on robots, and also prattles about them endlessly. Metal… did not fully understand everything that the doctor told him, but he could at least assist and help where he could. Magma Man had his metaphorical hands full as well with Parts Creation. Cooling parts, internals refitting and placement, connecting tubes and cables, proper oiling of parts… I’ve got my work cut out for me, Metal thought to himself. He smirked at his own pun, but kept focus and forced excess hot air from his vents. To say that it felt strange to work with his linemate so intimately was an understatement, but… if this is what was necessary to get him online, he wouldn’t complain. Plus… Air did tell him once that it would help if he knew how to perform proper repairs and maintenance on himself and his fellow linemates. 

Metal snorted behind his mask. He should’ve listened to him back then. Now he’s here, half-confusedly soldering Crash’s back until there’s no more gaping hole in it. 

Hours continued to pass. Roll brought down food for the three of them. She seemed to have put together some kind of sandwich, Metal noted. Thank everything it’s just a normal sandwich. He gingerly took a bite into it, and… this might have been the first good food he has ever consumed. His eyes widened before digging in. 

Roll sat next to him. “So what do you think?” 

Metal finished his bite first before speaking. “This is really good. Where did you get this?” 

Roll chuckled and smirked. “I made it myself, thank you very much! And it seems like Mr. ‘I-Could-Kill-You-Here’ is actually enjoying his enemy’s work, hah!” 

Metal’s eyes widened and he looked away from the cleaning robot. “Don’t make me follow through on my word.” He murmured. 

The cleaning robot laughed loudly and clapped the Wilybot’s back, making him flinch lightly. “I’ll be sure to tread lightly then,” she teased him. “What did Bomb put you through to make you warm up so quickly?” 

Metal snapped his head back in her direction with a glare. “I’m not warming up to anyone. I am just taking a necessary break between working with your Doctor. I cannot look after my linemate if I’m in less than optimal condition.” He glanced down at the remaining sandwich in his hand. “Bomb Man’s culinary tastes are… unrefined, to say the least.” 

 Roll smiled his way. “Oh yeah? What kinda stuff do you already know about cooking and culinary tastes? You just got the ability to digest food only a few days ago!” 

Metal huffed. “It’s none of your business. Are all of you Lightbots so nosy to a default?” 

Roll giggled more, and Metal frowned. “Alright then, keep your secrets.” She said between giggles. Metal rolled his eyes. 

Crash Man was coming together slowly, piece by piece, part by part. Metal’s tired eyes looked up and down Crash’s body excitedly. His internals restored, his armor being reconstructed, his circuity rebuilt, and his drills refurbished. All of it now reinforced with more materials, on Doctor Light’s instructions. Magma Man, with his work finished, exited the lab with a short goodbye. The doctor carefully separated Crash’s helmet from his actual head. His head was a mess, to put it lightly. Metal grimaced, and then grimaced again when Doctor Light asked him what Crash Man looked like without the helm. He really hoped that his guesses were accurate. 

Soon, he had a face and head again. Crash Man was in perfect condition once more. Metal stared down at him. When was the last time he had spoken to him? Seen his face like this? 

Doctor Light fitted his newly repaired helmet and visor back onto his head. “And that should do it. Running diagnostics on him now,” he said as he typed away on his keyboard. A half hour later, he turned to Metal and smiled at the Wilybot. “Everything came back without error. So it is done. Your linemate is back in mint condition and fully operational! And he would not be without your assistance as well, so I give you my gratitude.” 

Metal perked up from Crash’s resting body with wide eyes. “N-no, no! I should be the one giving you my thanks! For even considering this, and listening to me!” 

Doctor Light simply smiled at that, and then said, “I believe it is safe now to reactivate him. I would recommend standing back some distance from him, though. Robot Masters sometimes let off an electric discharge when being reactivated.” 

Metal eagerly kept his distance as the doctor doublechecked Crash Man one last time. All necessary cables and wires were slotted into him, the Wilybot was fastened to the table, his form was without flaws. Doctor Light sat at his computer chair, began the process to reactivate the repaired Robot Master. Metal, however, only paid attention to Crash. 

… 

… 

Nothing happened initially. Metal waited for what felt like an eternity. 

… 

And then, all too suddenly, his eyes snapped open. 

Crash Man’s eyes widened, revealing teal pupils, with a sharp gasp. Near immediately, his breathing quickened and he wildly looked around. He whipped his head around for something, anything familiar to him, until his optics fell on something he DID recognize. The large form of Doctor Light. 

Crash Man’s expression morphed and he bared his sharp teeth. “YOU,” he snarled. His pupils shrank to pinpricks and something changed in him. He thrashed and writhed with great force against the restraints holding him down. One table was not enough to hold down someone like Crash Man. He snapped the restraints with ease, and in turn, snapped the cables attached to him. He aimed a drill at Doctor Light. 

Almost immediately, Metal Man jumped into action. He gripped and yanked at Crash’s arm, throwing off his aim as he fired. The Crash Bomber he fired landed in the computer terminal instead of its intended target. Doctor Light hurried to take cover. Crash whirled around and with a yell, smashed his arm across Metal’s head. The cutterbot tumbled from the force. 

Crash turned around and looked for his target. He growled when he couldn’t see Megaman’s creator in sight and he began to fire off more Crash Bombers. “Graaaaaghh!!” 

Before he could do more, however, two arms held him back and restrained him. Crash’s yells crescendo'd into screams. “RAAAAHH !! AAAAAAHHHH !! GGGRRRRRHHGHAAAAA !!” He thrashed in his grip, while Metal held him back as tightly as he could. 

“Crash, STOP!!” Metal yelled. “Li– Listen to me, Crash! You’re not in danger!” 

Crash didn’t hear him and instead screamed as he did everything in his power to throw Metal Man off of him. After struggling against the cutterbot, he eventually whipped to the side and succeeded. He snarled and fired off more Crash Bombers haphazardly in any direction. 

Crash raised his arms in a motion that Metal knew all too well. He scrambled onto his feet in record timing and charged to tackle Crash. The two slammed to the ground and Metal struggled to pin the orange Wilybot down. “Do NOT detonate those!!” Metal yelled at him between his own growls and grunts. 

Crash glowered at Metal with a frenzied look in his eyes for a second. He’s in his own world, Metal thought to himself, leaning up to dodge Crash’s attempts to snap and bite at him. The drillbot battered him with elbows, drills, and kicks as Metal struggled to hold him down. Metal himself growled back at Crash, receiving another drill to the face. 

Crash tried to get up again, but Metal latched onto him quickly. Metal held him back as best as he could. “Crash!!” He barked. Crash looked back down at him and let out an incomprehensible snarl, completely unaware of the newcomer who entered the fray. He looked back a little too late to process nor dodge the frying pan that suddenly smashed across his head with a loud, satisfying clang. The loud noise rattled both of the Wilybots and seconds later, Crash Man collapsed to the floor. 

Metal looked up at Roll, who wielded the culinary weapon in her hands. He panted and stared in disbelief at the cleaning bot. Roll brandished the frying pan and spun it around. “Doctor Light didn’t call for me, but I heard the commotion from upstairs. You’re welcome.” She said, before calling for her doctor and father. “Doctor Light? It’s safe now!” 

Metal didn’t really process much beyond that point, as he finally succumbed to his fatigue and laid down against the floor next to his linemate, and passed out. 

Metal came to, slowly and… comfortably? His body was warm, he was laying against something soft. He snuggled into the comfort of his blanket over him. 

…wait. When did he get a pillow and blanket? 

His eyes slowly opened and he was met again with the familiar scene of Doctor Light’s living room. He drowsily looked around, and collected himself. He checked through his most recent memories, and almost immediately, his eyes snapped awake. He shot up from laying down and threw the blanket aside, then quickly got up to his feet. Where was Crash, he thought fervently, what happened to Crash?  

He was about to bolt to the Laboratory elevator when suddenly a voice called to him, “Hold it, mister!” Metal froze on the spot, not to follow her orders, but out of surprise instead. 

He turned around and faced its source. “Lightbot.” He addressed her. 

“A-HEM. It’s Roll, and don’t forget it this time!” Roll sassed back at him. “Don’t you go down just yet!” 

Metal didn’t bother to hide the alarm and stress that showed through his masked face. “Crash is still down there. I, I don’t know what happened after you knocked him out. Is he still here? Did Doctor Light send him away?” 

Roll looked at him wide-eyed. “What– no, no! He wouldn’t do that!” She tried to reassure the Wilybot. “He was in a frenzy when I saw him! That’s not… his default state, right?” 

“N-no, not at all!” Metal said defensively. “He’s… moody, sure, but normally he can control himself…! K-kinda…!” You are NOT helping his case, Metal, he berated himself mentally. “Please trust me. I’m being serious right now…!” He pleaded to her. 

“Alright, alright, I believe you. Don’t fry your circuits up here.” Roll said, raising her hands up. “Doctor Light has been swapping out the laboratory equipment downstairs most of last night, and this morning. We had to deactivate Crash Man again in order to make removing his Crash Bombers a little safer. He’s still down there, ‘promise.” The Wilybot took a moment to process her words, and he finally let out a sigh and relaxed. “What about you, though? You blacked out right after Crash Man did, are you alright…? Do you need an E-Tank?” 

If Metal didn’t know any better, she actually sounded concerned about him. He huffed and looked away. He wasn’t about to admit to her that he hasn’t properly slept this entire time and was most definitely overworking himself. “I’m fine. And I have E-Tanks. I grabbed some with Bomb Man.” One would be quite nice actually, now that he knows that Crash is still safe for the time being. He made his way to the forgotten backpack left by the doorway and opened it up. He pulled the broken Pipi out of the bag first, before reaching for a fresh E-Tank. 

“Oh, is that a Pipi?!” Roll exclaimed, standing next to him now. “Where did you get one so big? I thought they were all small for the blind bags! Ooooh, is that a vintage one? …why is it busted?” 

“Oh my god, it’s not a toy. I made this Pipi myself five years ago! It’s a surveillance drone meant to spy on all of you humans and Lightbots.” He said, exasperated. He cracked open a can and sipped at the much-needed E-Tank. Finally, some much-needed sleep and energy in him. He could feel himself grow more invigorated. 

Roll gawked at him. “You made them?! This is an original, then! Do you have any idea how rare these are nowadays?!” She said excitedly. 

Metal leaned back from her, mildly confused. “...Yes? I made every Pipi?” He answered. He knows that unless Dr. Wily reused his subordinate designs for later wars, there were only a few hundred Pipis in existence, not counting Copipis that later attack models produced. 

“R-right!” Roll said sheepishly, scratching her cheek lightly. She couldn’t help herself but stare at the Pipi, and then suddenly swipe it off of the ground. Before Metal could object, she held it in her arms and looked up at him. “Do you think we could repair this little guy? Please?” 

“Well, that was why I brought it with me here…” 

“Thanks, Metal Man! We’ll have it fixed up in no time after we get Crash Man back online!” She said, hurrying over with the Pipi… upstairs? Instead of the Laboratory below? Metal’s ear flicked idly. Well, he supposed that he wasn’t going to see his creation for a while. He could think more on that later. He needed to get himself back down to Doctor Light and Crash. He entered the elevator and headed down. He took a deep breath through his mask vents. 

The elevator dinged, and Metal entered the Laboratory once more. He assessed the room immediately, his optics catching multiple spots where Crash Bombers had buried themselves earlier, and where various machines and devices had been replaced by backup tech. His optics fell upon Doctor Light, busy at work on a replacement computer terminal. He immediately made his way over. 

“Doctor Light,” Metal started, wringing his hands together, “D-doctor, I feel as though I… ah, need to sincerely apologize for what happened earlier. How Crash and I acted earlier– that’s not our usual, er, that’s not, not how we normally act. Crash isn’t normally like that. I promise. I know that I told you to believe me, but I really do need you to—” 

Doctor Light turned to look at the Wilybot whose apology was shifting into a defensive ramble and clasped a hand on his forearm. Metal flinched again and shut up quickly. “Metal Man, it’s quite alright.” He told him firmly. “I am not happy about the damages to the lab, but those can be easily repaired. The most important thing is that everyone is mostly unscathed after it, besides Crash Man himself. He was an easy fix, but if I am not mistaken, his frenzied state IS indeed an exception to his usual behavior, yes?” 

“Y-yes. Of course.” Metal nodded. “I’m still sorry. Please forgive him, Doctor Light. He was scared.” 

“I see.” The doctor stroked his beard in thought again. “That’s alright. I’m more curious than anything else about your linemate, Metal Man. I had removed his hard-coded loyalty to Doctor Wily and I installed the Three Laws in him before we activated him, and yet, his emotions were able to somehow override his programming. Most fascinating…” He looked over at the peacefully inactive Crash Man once more with interest. “Fascinating, but dangerous as well. I would like to bring him online once more, but preferably in a way that does not trigger his frenzied state again.” 

Metal Man thought back carefully about what he saw earlier. “I think I might be able to calm him down this time. I need to be close to him when he wakes up.” 

Doctor Light watched as Metal made his way over to the drillbot. “Ah… I would advise against that. Ceratanium is a highly conductive metal alloy…” 

Metal looked down at his resting linemate. He let out an exhale and steeled himself. “I am modeled after Cut Man’s design, Doctor. I can take a little electricity.” He made up his mind. He HOPED that he could keep Crash calm. “Let’s get him online again. I’m ready.” 

Once more, Crash Man was strapped to the operating table, and hooked up to multiple cables that ran to the good doctor’s many computers. This time, Metal Man sat at the side of the table. He gave a thumbs up to the doctor. 

Doctor Light proceeded to key in the necessary inputs to begin to reactivate Crash Man. Metal watched Crash intently, leaning closer to him. He waited for what felt like another eternity. Or at least, he would’ve, if not for the tingling of electricity he felt dancing on his ceratanium body. Electric currents suddenly surged up his arms and through his body. Metal jolted, letting out a garbled and pained noise. Something was possibly frying inside his body, but he could care about that later. He had bigger priorities right now. 

Suddenly, Crash Man’s eyes shot open with a sharp gasp. 

The orange Wilybot’s breathing quickened and he began to wildly look around, except– 

“Cra-ash,” Metal strained, still reeling from the sudden electrocution. “Crash,” he spoke again, louder and clearer. 

Crash glanced up at him, lightly hyperventilating, before his pupils began to dart around again. 

“Crash, DON’T panic.” Metal commanded him, grabbing his upper arms in his metallic hands. Crash flinched lightly. “Look at me. Look at me, Crash.” He ordered him calmly. Crash’s teal eyes bored into Metal’s red eyes and the cutterbot forced himself to hold the extended eye contact. “Look at me. Okay. Breathe slower. Deep breaths. Like this, okay?” He retracted his mask and demonstrated for him. Crash watched him and tried his best to copy him. His breathing slowed down, much to Metal’s relief. 

Crash Man blinked and kept his eye contact with Metal. His face remained shadowed by his helmet visor, but his composure now was the complete opposite from earlier. He opened his mouth to speak. His voice, at a normal volume, was tenor and light. “Metal…? W-where, where am I…?” He asked. He looked around and saw a familiar face. “Is that Doctor Light?” He asked, worry settling on his face. 

“I…” Metal started, “...yes. But it’s okay. You’re not in danger, okay? You’re safe. We’re not prisoners, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

Crash looked back at Metal anxiously. He whispered to him, “Are we Lightbots?” 

“No, we’re still Wily Numbers.” 

“Oh, thank everything.” Crash sighed exaggeratedly. He leaned his head back against the operating table for a moment. His nose scrunched up, and he peeked his eyes open up at Metal again. “Metal, why are you smoking?” 

Metal sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? Are you calm?”  

“I’m better than before… but… Metal, why are we in Doctor Light’s lab? …where’s Doctor Wily…? Where’s the others?” 

Metal slowly got off the operating table. Crash tried to follow after him, but was held down by restraints over his arms, legs, and midsection. He huffed, annoyed, and snapped the restraints and cables holding him back again before Doctor Light was able to release him from the safe distance of his chair. Metal snorted and protracted his mask again, before moving over to Crash. Compared to the cutterbot, the heavily-armored Crash Man was a surprisingly short Robot Master, only just some inches taller than Roll upstairs. Metal reached for the cables still attached to Crash, but the drillbot took a step back. “What are you doing?” The orange Wilybot cautioned. 

“Getting all these wires off of you,” Metal said, moving his hands again. Crash allowed him to remove the remaining cables, closing his eyes. “As for your questions, well…” He took a few steps back from Crash and crossed his arms. “First, I don’t know where the rest of our linemates are. It’s just you and me, hopefully only for now. Second, I haven’t…” He trailed off as he remembered who was present in the room. He chose his words carefully, “...I don’t know where Doctor Wily is. He’s disappeared. And Third, we’re here right now because… …how do I put this lightly…” He brought a hand up to lightly tug at his neck guard. “We… uh, might have been brought online again to help Doctor Light with an experiment. We’ve both been, ah, modified for it.” 

Crash’s eyes snapped open and near-bugged out of his head. “WHAT?” He yelled, causing his linemate to flinch from the volume. 

Metal raised his hands up defensively. “H-hold on, hear me out, Crash…” Great job Metal, he scolded himself.

“NO?!” Crash yelped angrily, and pointed a drill at Doctor Light, who backed up in his seat. “Where’s Doctor Wily?! Where’s my linemates?! Where’s Megaman?! IS DOCTOR WILY DEAD? AND WHY WOULD YOU MOD US WITHOUT ASKING FIRST?!” He fired question after question at the doctor. 

“Crash, I promise I can explain,” Metal cut in, putting a hand on Crash’s shoulder. “Killing Doctor Light right now isn’t gonna help us out.” 

Crash whirled around and smacked Metal’s hand away from him with a drill. “Don’t touch me!” He growled, baring his sharp teeth at him. “And why are you so calm about all of this?! What, did you get reprogrammed, huh?!” 

Metal’s eye twitched. “What– No, don’t be stupid, Crash—” 

Crash’s eyes and nostrils flared. “Oh, so I’M stupid?! For not knowing everything as soon as I wake up?! That sounds pretty stupid to assume about someone else, Metal!” He argued, taking a step towards the cutterbot. 

Metal blew hot air through his body vents and face mask. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No– that’s not what I– Can you stop being so– can you stop freaking out for a second?” Metal felt anger and irritation creep through his wires. He was remembering why he mainly only talked with Air and Bubble years ago.  

“NO, NOT until someone tells me what’s going on! And why Doctor LIGHT is with us and NOT Doctor Wily! And why we’re in Doctor LIGHT’s lab!” Crash shouted at him. His drills revved and whirred at the ends of his arms. 

“Because Doctor Wily left us behind!” Metal snapped back at him. “It was Doctor LIGHT who found me and retrieved me, it was ME who found you and brought you here, and we had to repair you ourselves! Doctor Wily hasn’t been around at all! He never even tried to contact me via comms, a message, anything…” He said, ears flattening back. 

Crash froze where he was, processing what his linemate just told him. The drillbot’s eyes widened slowly as the information settled in his mind. His expression turned angrier at Metal. “If this is some kind of joke you’re pulling on me, it’s really not funny,” Crash said, warning in his tone. 

Metal glared back at Crash silently. Crash saw nothing but frustration in his eyes, and… something else. The two Wilybots glowered at each other for a few seconds, at a standstill. 

“...GGRRAAGH!” Crash suddenly growled in frustration, looking around for a second, and finding an exit. He turned around and stomped towards the elevator. 

“Crash, where are you going?!” Metal yelled after him. 

“I’m going to my Tower! Leave me alone!” Crash yelled back. 

“You can’t! There’s nothing left there! It’s all ruins!” Metal yelled back, before his common sense returned to him and he realized what he just said. His own eyes widened at his words. He saw Crash step into the elevator and smash the control panel with his arm. “Wait! Crash!” Metal called after him, following the drillbot. The doors closed between them, but not before Metal caught sight of Crash’s upset expression. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Metal berated himself. 

His hands balled into fists. He can’t let Crash go tear up Monsteropolis or the forest that contained his temporary hidden Base. He looked back at Doctor Light and he asked, calmer. “Are there any stairs to take?” 

“Er, y-yes. Right at the other corner of the room.” Doctor Light said. 

“I’ll be back… er, whenever, I guess. Sorry.” Metal said, before running for the emergency stairs. 

He ended up in some sort of office room. He slammed the door open and looked around for any sign of Crash, before a huge crashing noise sounded off to his right. He ran back to the living room, only to find a sizable hole in one of the walls, where the front door to the residence was supposed to be. Crash must have smashed it right off the hinges. Metal grabbed his backpack and chased after the drillbot. 

Crash seems to have stomped right into the nearby forest, since the road and highway were still intact. Metal bolted down the gentle hills and into the woods. “Crash! Crash!!” Metal called for him, following the short orange Robot Master in the distance. The two Wilybots disappeared into the mass of thickets and trees… 

Chapter Text

Metal Man followed after his linemate in hot pursuit. He was entering the same thicket of forest he once did days prior. He followed him from a short distance, calling after him. “Crash! Where are you going?! We have to stick together!” 

“SAYS WHO! Leave me alone!” Crash objected, trudging and stomping through the forest, crushing everything under his heavy boots. 

“Says ME, as your senior, since Doctor Wily isn’t here!” Metal barked back, concerned, but annoyed. Crash Man was just so… what was the word for it… Metal was too focused on keeping an eye on Crash and getting him to cooperate to focus on scouring his knowledge database. He brushed past trees and foliage, swatting anything out of his way. 

Meanwhile, Crash Man simply just barreled through anything in his way, unflinchingly so. He turned briefly, to point a drill at the cutterbot. “Screw you!” He barked. Metal frowned. It’s… hard to tell what kind of gestures Crash often expressed, due to his complete lack of hands and fingers. But Metal figured it was safe to assume his drill point was the closest thing to a middle finger he could muster. 

Crash resumed his stomping through the woods. He really is just going wherever, huh, Metal thought to himself, noting how far from the trails they were getting, and noting where the highway overpass was in relation to them. He let out an exasperated sigh through his mask. “Crash, do you even know where you’re going?” He called out to him. 

The orange drillbot didn’t answer him. He lifted up another drill at Metal instead. Metal huffed, annoyed. Just don’t lose sight of him. I CANNOT afford to have Crash destroy any part of this overall area, or else… he thought to himself. Metal listed off the possibilities in his mind as he watched his linemate. Or else we might catch the wrong person’s attention, or our only shelter could get destroyed, or WE might get destroyed in the process… 

His Crash Bombers are no joke. He continued his train of thought. Memories of their daily training sessions back at the old Base resurfaced in his mind. His assigned training partners then were Air and Heat… but he knows the carnage that Crash is capable of. Utterly destroyed rooms, melted and smoking infrastructure that took months to reconstruct, robots rendered beyond disrepair. He recalled one gruesome day where training ended early, due to him and the others having to find multiple smoking chunks and pieces of Flash Man after he faced off against Crash. His ears lowered slightly. He remembered that Doctor Wily was mainly relieved that Flash could be put back together, but he also remembered Quick screaming at Crash when he found out what happened. 

He had to act carefully with Crash. At least for now, when he’s this upset. 

He continued following after Crash. In comparison to the drillbot, his own steps must have been near-silent. He took another glance at the highway overpass in the distance. They were getting closer to it now. If anything, this probably means that they were getting closer to the warehouse. Which means… 

“Crash!” Metal called. “You might want to watch your–” 

Before he could even finish his sentence, he witnessed Crash trip and tumble down with an undignified yelp. “...step.” That was definitely the same hill that he tripped down himself the other day. He jogged up to the edge and carefully slid down the hill on his feet. Crash was sprawled out against the dirt and leaves. Metal held a hand out to the orange drillbot. “Are you okay?” He asked. 

He was met with a sharp glare from the drillbot, who stabbed the soft ground with both of his drills, and helped himself up. He pushed past the cutterbot, up to the building before him without any regard for anything around him. Metal easily kept up with Crash and he explained beside him, “I found this building the other day. No one lives in it. Well, other than me. And you now, too. I want it to be kind of like a temporary Base of sorts until I come up with a more thorough plan.” He opened the old double doors for Crash, who trudged right in. Metal tossed his backpack to the side.

His linemate was not one for long nor thorough assessments. “This place is a dump,” Crash said. 

“I know.” Metal said. “To be fair, I just found it. I haven’t found the time to even clean it yet. I was busy getting you instead.” 

Crash then turned to face him, finally. He bore his angry eyes into Metal’s frustrated ones. “Why DID you even get me in the first place? Doctor Wily is GONE,” Crash listed and reiterated, “Our linemates are DEAD, we FAILED our objective! Megaman KILLED US! Why did you bring me back?” His voice raised as he went on. Metal winced slightly from the volume. “Was being destroyed not enough; what, did you wanna laugh at me again, too?” 

Metal looked into Crash’s eyes. He looked angry, upset, hurt. “What? No, I was saying before at Doctor Light’s lab that we got pulled into an experiment–” 

“No, that’s NOT what I mean!” Crash growled. “I mean…! Why ME? If you wanted to live or do some… whatever you’re planning now, you could’ve gotten Air or Bubble or whoever robot you actually like. Why did you get me?” 

“I…” Metal stammered and hesitated. He wasn’t expecting to get put on the spot by Crash Man of all robots. He wasn’t going to admit that Crash just happened to be the first of his linemates that Bomb Man was able to locate for him. “I… d-does, does it matter who I bring back?” He asked back, eyes sharpening. “I wasn’t asked whether I wanted to come back or not, you know. I just was. And I got thrown into this stupid experiment, alone. ” 

“OH, so now that makes it okay to do the same thing to the rest of your linemates?! Or maybe you think we aren’t the same as you! Maybe you just think you’re better than all of us!” Crash spat. “You’re just using me now like Doctor Light is using you...!” 

Metal was taken aback. “Wh-wha..? N-no! I’m not…! That’s not what I meant! B-by any of this! I-I just… I couldn’t… Hey wait– I don’t think I’m better than the rest of us!” He barked, looking anywhere but Crash’s eyes. 

“Oh PLEASE, ” Crash rolled his eyes beneath his helm’s visor, “I’m not buying that for a second!” 

“I really mean it!” Metal said, furrowing his brows under his helmet. 

“That’s a load of scrap and you know it!” Crash growled at him. “You NEVER showed up anywhere unless Doctor Wily asked you to, you NEVER talked to any of us at all or even bothered to get to know us! And OHHHH, you were just SO SMART and SO CAPABLE with your hands!” He snarled, baring his teeth. “Doctor Wily ALWAYS talked about you and said ‘You all should follow Metal Man’s example!’, you CAN’T talk to me like you weren’t his favorite! BECAUSE YOU WERE! And where did that leave the rest of us! In you and Air’s BIG DUMB SHADOWS! Because we’re not masterpieces or exemplary like you two!” 

Metal’s eyes narrowed and he growled back at Crash. “I’m not a masterpiece… All I did was my tasks! That’s ALL I ever did! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” What the hell, Crash. Doctor Wily didn’t talk about him like that… there was no way that HE was Doctor Wily’s favorite. Especially not with how Doctor Wily talked about the rest of his linemates. No… if anything, he was old. Outdated. Flawed. A failure.  

“And while we’re on that,” Metal added, glaring at Crash, “ you leave Air out of this . He’s sitting destroyed somewhere right now, and you’re gonna scrap-talk him?” 

“ Oh, did I hit a sour spot? ” Crash feigned pity, pouting. “YEAH, I will! You and Air don’t get off free for being Doctor Wily’s pretty little perfect robots! You both FAILED, just like I did! So much for Air being so smart and great and ‘undefeatable’, HAH!” He growled. 

Metal visibly and audibly fumed, his body and mask vents pushing out steam. His hands balled into fists as he took a few steps forward. His expression darkened. “And what about you and your little hero Quick Man, then?” He spat back at Crash. There was a part of him that felt kind of satisfied when he saw Crash’s smirk drop off his face in record timing. 

“ Don’t you talk scrap about Quick–” Crash tried to interject, his expression turning furious. 

Metal’s mask retracted, and there was a bitter, somewhat twisted grin on his face amidst his darkened expression. “For someone who talked so highly of himself and thought himself such a strong and formidable leader , it’s kinda weird that HE DIED FIRST!” Metal snarled at him. 

“Shut up!” Crash yelled. 

But Metal did not. “Maybe it’s no wonder that Doctor Wily liked Air and I so much! Since everyone who came after Quick set themselves up for failure under him! Looks like he was all talk and no bite!” He sneered. 

“SHUT UP!!” Crash screamed, suddenly raising an arm and firing a Crash Bomber at the cutterbot. Metal instinctively dodged out of the way. Crash began to fire more Crash Bombers his way with both arms, as the cutterbot swiftly dodged them as he ran along the walls of the warehouse. He materialized a Metal Blade and threw it at the last Crash Bomber fired, deflecting both weapons off to the side when they clashed. 

The smaller drillbot bared his sharp teeth and let out a scream as he closed the distance between himself and the cutterbot. Metal didn’t hesitate to charge forward this time either. The two clashed with Metal’s fist colliding with the top of Crash’s visor. Neither of the Robot Masters flinched or recoiled from the impact. 

Metal’s eyes flickered down for a second and he was the first of the two to spot an opening. He quickly swept the drillbot off of his feet with a low sweep, knocking Crash down. He was about to pin him down when suddenly, Crash’s foot harshly kicked at Metal’s shin, making the bot lose his footing and slip down as well. Crash was quick to pin Metal down instead, and quicker to bring his forearms crashing down on the bot below him. 

The burgundy Wilybot did his best to shield himself from Crash’s blows, but Crash hit hard. His own arms were getting dented in multiple places from blocking Crash’s hits. He growled, and when Crash brought his arms down again like hammers, Metal grabbed his drills in both hands to stop him in place. Only for Crash to spin his drills fast, and for Metal to quickly let go. “Fuck!” He hissed in acute pain. His hands were some of the most sensitive parts of his body. “Crash, you…!” Metal snarled and threw his entire body weight forward into Crash, effectively knocking the drillbot onto his back. 

The roles were reversed again, and with Metal on top, it was his turn now to beat into the drillbot with his own punches. “You fragging brat! ” He growled at him. Some of his punches were blocked by drills, some of his punches landed square in Crash’s furious face. “If you had just listened to me, and not freaked the HELL out, we wouldn’t be…! In this situation…! Because!” Another punch. “I was PLANNING to get everyone back online to protect them!” Another punch and Crash spit a sharp tooth out. “I had all your best interests in mind…!” PUNCH. Crash bared his teeth and suddenly chomped into Metal’s hand on the next punch. He sank his teeth in deeply. “ GET OFF–! ” Metal yelped, recoiling back and yanking his hand. 

Crash used the opportunity to throw Metal off of him. He threw a drill right towards Metal’s head and it harshly connected. Metal’s world spun for a moment and he reeled– It felt as though a sledgehammer just smashed into his head. Something absolutely jostled out of place in there; maybe it was whatever got fried earlier. Crash battered his body more with his drills and arms. “ Protect us? YOU? You’re lying!” He yelled at him. “You’ve never cared about anybody other than yourself! Or what any of us wanted! Have you ever even THOUGHT about what any of us want?!” He screamed as he bashed Metal’s body more. 

“S-stop…” Metal groaned, the world still spinning as he feebly tried to defend himself. He backed up and tried to get up to put distance between himself and Crash, but he stumbled and lost his balance instead. He fell to his knees and hand, clutching his helmeted head in his other hand. “My head… scrap, you did a number on me…” he uttered under his breath. 

In front of him, Crash stood almost triumphantly. “Hah. Looks like I win,” he boasted, smirking.  “Serves you right for scrap-talking Quick while he’s offline! What do you have to say for yourself NOW, huh?” 

Metal’s mouth hung open as he hunched over and clutched his head. “Spinning… World is… spinning…” He said quietly. Crash, I think you messed something up in my head. “Crash… my head… mess…” 

“Huh? What was that?” Crash asked, his smirk slowly dropping. “I didn’t hear you.” Metal didn’t repeat himself. Crash huffed, annoyed, and tapped Metal’s shoulder with a drill. “Hey… Metal… Are you good?” He asked. 

Metal wobbled, before falling onto his side. Nothing coherent spoke from his lips. “Gguuuhh…” 

Crash’s eyes widened and he knelt by Metal’s side. “H-hey, c’mon this isn’t funny…” He said, quieter now. He hesitated for a moment, before digging a drill carefully below Metal’s head. He lifted the cutterbot’s head just a little, to get a better look at him. Metal’s mouth hung slightly agape, and his optics flickered strangely. His pupils were unmoving. 

Crash’s eyes grew wider at the sight. 

“Oh scrap.”  

Oh scrap. 

Oh scrap. 

Oh fragging scrap! 

Crash’s eyes widened with alarm. That was NOT normal, he thought to himself. He briefly remembered something from the past, from his time at Base, long before he fought Megaman. His training sessions with his big bro, with Quick… Sometimes if Quick’s head got hit, he’d get the same look in his eyes, and he’d stumble around and mumble something about repairs before taking off. He never bothered asking Quick about it. At least not after the first time he tried to, when Quick insisted that he was fine then. He was told not to worry about it. 

Well. 

He can’t exactly do that now, can he? 

Crash stared at the limp Metal Man staring blankly at nothing. “Metal…?” Crash asked quietly. He felt new emotions wash over him today– Guilt. Regret. Panic. And it was washing over him FAST. His eyes widened more, and his breathing quickened. “Metal, you’re still awake, right?” Crash asked more nervously now. “Metal?” He used his other drill to push and lightly shake Metal. 

He heard something— no, multiple somethings— rattle inside Metal Man’s body. Metal let out some kind of quiet guttural noise. Oh my god, did I break him? Crash thought. No, no, no, not again…!  

He can’t be responsible for another broken linemate… not after the last few times. He… he just wanted to rough him up, maybe put him in his place– he didn’t mean to BREAK Metal. 

Crash felt panic and regret flood his circuits so suddenly and intensely. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to hurt him like this. He needed to find Doctor Wily immediately, or maybe Quick, who could then find Doctor Wily. Metal needed repairs. He needed to be fixed! 

But…  

Doctor Wily isn’t here. Quick Man isn’t here. Crash’s eyes widened more, and he looked around. 

A realization was beginning to hit the orange bot all too soon, all too quickly. He has no idea where he is. He has NO idea where Doctor Wily is. He’s… alone. He’s alone. He’s ALONE.  

Crash’s breathing turned erratic as he kept looking around wide-eyed. Where am I? Where ARE we? WHEN are we? The questions pounded in his head incessantly, the noises way too loud suddenly, and he needed to feel something. He needed to feel something, ANYTHING, other than this feeling of his core metaphorically trying to burst out of his chassis and run free. 

He thought back to his life before he fought Megaman. He thought about the times that Quick would ruffle his hair playfully. Or when he’d warmly pat his shoulder and smile. He… he could do the same, with Metal, maybe! 

Wait. No. Metal is… not normal right now, and he himself has drills instead of hands. Damn.  

He looked down at Metal. Metal… did something with him earlier today. He stared at his mouth, trying to recall what it was. Slow… and deep… breaths, that was it. Right. He was panicking. But Metal told him to breathe slower. Right. 

Crash breathed through his nostrils, and exhaled through his mouth a few times. Metal needed repairs, and he wasn’t going to freak out right now, when he’s hurt. Even if… he was the one who hurt him. 

His breathing slowed down and he felt his panic just barely subside. But he’ll take any relief he could get right now. Alright. Focus, Crash, he thought to himself, Doctor Wily… left us behind. Metal told me that. So he can’t repair him. You can’t repair him because you don’t have hands. So then that means… Doctor Light will have to repair him. I have to find Doctor Light so he can fix Metal. I don’t have any other choice. 

He had to figure this out himself this time. 

He looked down at Metal again. He tried to shake him again, much more carefully this time. “Metal, h-hey Metal… c’mon, we gotta get up.” Crash said quietly. “We gotta get you repaired. I think… I think I… I hit you too hard.” 

Metal was unresponsive. Oh no…  

If Metal was gone or…. or… if he was… broken beyond repair… then he really would be alone. He has no Wily Castle now. No objective now. No Doctor Wily. No linemates. No Tower. No purpose or reason for living. Nothing. 

A new emotion was overcoming him. Fear.  

He suddenly felt very small in his own body, and small inside this warehouse. He felt scared, and helpless. And maybe he felt stupid, too. Look what you’ve done, he chastised himself, you broke him. Metal was trying to tell you something important, and you broke him like an IDIOT because you got angry again.  

That’s all he’s good for, isn’t he? Just breaking and destroying things. He’s not… he’s not built to take care of others. Crash grit his teeth and smashed his free arm against the concrete floor in frustration. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What was wrong with him? “Why am I like this?” He uttered behind grit teeth. 

He let out a frustrated growl to no one in particular. Stupid Idiot Crash Man, ruining everything again. But… there was nobody here who was going to fix his mistakes for him this time. No. No. He made this mistake and he was the only person who was able to fix it this time. He’s the only one who’s going to fix it this time, no matter how angry he gets at himself. 

He needed to fix it. If he wants Metal back to normal and, if he wants to not feel alone anymore, he has to fix it. 

The drillbot very carefully lowered his linemate onto the flooring, taking care not to jostle anything else inside him. Crash slowly stood back up. His plan: Find out where he is, find out where Doctor Light is, take Metal to Doctor Light to repair him. “Metal, I don’t know if you can hear me still, but… j-just stay there, okay? I’m gonna go find help.” He said hesitantly. 

He made his way out of the warehouse and he scanned his surroundings first. There were… no other robots or humans around whatsoever, at least from the lack of electronic nor heat signatures he picked up on. There was nothing but trees and nature here. He saw the hill that he tripped down earlier today, but… well, being close to a mountain range didn’t help him out. Everything was elevated and hilly here. 

He needed a higher point of view. He looked back at the warehouse. The roof could work. He bent his knees slightly, preparing himself. And with some force, he lept a great height up. He couldn’t jump nearly as high as Quick or Metal could but, he could easily clear this building. He landed on the roof… if only for a moment. He forgot to account for one thing– his own weight. The old roof below him crumbled under both the sudden force and his weight, and with a scream, Crash plummeted to the floor. He recoiled from the sudden pain and shock from the fall, but fortunately, his bombs didn’t set off this time. 

He slowly got back to his feet again, and shook the debris off of his legs. Well, that sucked. He glanced over at Metal again. The burgundy Wilybot hadn’t moved from his resting spot. Crash huffed. He needed a new idea.

Making his way back outside again, he took another look around. They were surrounded by a few mountains, but they had to be at least some miles away, and with the clouds gathering in the sky, he had a limited amount of daylight before it got dark, and therefore, way easier to get lost in this forest. However… there was a highway overpass that loomed well above this forest. It was fairly close by, too. 

Yeah. Yeah… that could work. 

The sun was setting, and hours had passed. With some struggle involving a lack of hands and a fixed ladder, Crash Man had managed to scale his way to the top of the highway overpass. He was leaning over the guard railing, peering at the forest and verdant hills before him. Other than the buzzing of cars behind him, and the delightful smell of gasoline on his olfactory sensors, being surrounded by all of this nature and feeling the cooler breeze on his body was actually quite… pleasant. 

He peered down, and could only just barely make out the off-white block of concrete that he and Metal have taken up residence in. Maybe Metal was smart after all– it wasn’t easy to see or find, whether you were down there or way up here. It sat hidden away by tall trees on little hills, and further up those hills… there it was. If he squinted his eyes and zoomed in his optics a little, he could spot the shape and color of one of the only human residences in this area: Doctor Light’s Lab. He looked between the warehouse below him and the laboratory in the distance and he connected an imaginary line between the two locations in his mind. 

He smiled to himself. Okay, good. This is good. He was making progress, and all by himself, too! 

All he had to do now was get Metal over there, and then maybe… he can actually sit down and talk with him… normally. Figure out what’s going on now, and why they’re here. 

‘Us Wilybots have to stick together, y’know? It’s us against the world as it is, and we’re safer, -stronger- when we’re together.’  

Quick said that to him and Flash a long time ago. He smiled briefly at the thought. Quick always knew what to say when things got really scary. “Stick together…” Crash murmured. He slowly paused, before his eyes slowly widened. Metal was trying to tell him the same thing today. “I’m such an idiot…” Crash said to himself. I let my stupid emotions get in the way again.  

His nose crinkled slightly. He was picking up an overall lingering scent besides the gasoline. He looked up at the darkening clouds. It’s going to rain soon. I can smell it. I should head back.  

It took considerably less time to slide down the fixed ladder back to ground level, than scaling up it. For the sake of his own embarrassment, Crash decided not to acknowledge the thought any further. He needed to get back to the warehouse and check on Metal. 

The orange drillbot made his way back through the forest, doing his best to remember the path that he took to the overpass. The first drops of rainfall landed on his semi-translucent visor, dripping in front of him. Within minutes, the light drizzle of rain transformed into a heavy downpour. Thunder soon rumbled afterwards. When it rains, it pours, they say. 

Who’s they? Crash pondered to himself as the sight of the warehouse welcomed him. The roof may have had some holes and was probably getting the interior a little wet, but it was still mostly shelter from the elements. He needed to make sure that Metal wasn’t getting soaked on top of dealing with his injury, too. Crash pushed the double doors open and he called out, “Metal, I’m back!” 

He peered around and looked for the burgundy cutterbot. “Metal?” He called out again. 

Metal… wasn’t here. 

Crash blinked a few times and he looked around a second time, in case he was imagining things. He looked around a third time. Metal wasn’t here.  

No. 

No, no, no, no, no where did he go?  

The sky flashed through the windows, and thunder loudly rumbled. Crash’s eyes widened huge. 

PANIC and WORRY flooded his mind way too suddenly and intensely. His mind raced with the mental imagery of Metal stumbling and wobbling like a newborn animal somewhere in this massive forest and mountain range. What if his body gets waterlogged? What if he runs out of energy and shuts down in the middle of nowhere? What if he gets hit by a car? And all of these outcomes, all because he BROKE him. Crash grinded his sharp teeth and he bolted out of the warehouse. “Metal?! METAL ?!” He yelled for his linemate. There was no answer. 

Where the hell could Metal have gone in just a few hours, in his not-normal state? Crash thought feverishly. He ran one, two laps around the warehouse, looking for any sign of shiny steel or wine red armor. He saw nothing. The heavy rainfall harshly pelted the top of his helmet and torso armor, and it was making seeing things kind of hard. Damn it all! This was HORRIBLE timing for a storm. 

He couldn’t see well past all this rain and foliage, but he could at least still smell just fine. His artificial nose was being assaulted by multiple scents at once. Rainfall, mud and dirt, wet trees and plants, wild onions, smoke were some of them, to name a few. Wait. Crash’s eyes widened again. Something inside Metal’s body was smoking or fried when he first woke up today. He whipped his head in one direction and tried to concentrate on the scent. Smoking metals, burning technology, c’mon, Crash! 

Metal definitely went somewhere into this forest, Crash determined. He tried his best to follow the faint scent of smoke and he began to bolt towards the forest. Of course, Metal somehow managed to get over the hill he tripped down. He peeked at the top of the hill and perhaps, by pure luck, he spotted something shiny amidst the downpour. A Metal Blade, buried into a tree at the edge of the hill. Crash hoped sincerely that Metal tagged more than one tree with his blades. He began to crouch and kneel to prepare to leap up again, but something tickled his nose. Electricity was in the air… but why– 

KRACK-KOW !!  

Crash stumbled back from sudden shock and the immensely loud sound. Immediately, the tree with the Metal Blade buried in it caught fire and instantly crumbled before Crash’s eyes. The Metal Blade itself was glowing bright red and violently sparking with leftover electricity from the lightning strike. 

“Oh my god he’s going to die.” Crash uttered in horror. He scrambled back onto his feet and leaped to the top of the hill without hesitation. He bolted into the thick forest, keeping his eyes alert for the shine (or glow) of Metal Blades, and his nose keen for the scent of smoke. 

Much to Crash’s conflicted emotions, Metal DID leave a trail of Metal Blade tags. Multiple blades in the bark were sparking with the electricity in the air. Doctor Wily made Metal Man out of that special metal he boasted about. What was it called, Ceramic Steel? Just how conductive was it? Crash sprinted through the forest as fast as he could, following the trail. To his immense relief, it didn’t take him long at all to find his linemate. Metal was hunched over, leaning against a tall tree for support. His body was idly sparking. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Crash barked, wasting no time to put himself in front of the cutterbot and wrapping his drills around his body. He lifted Metal right over his shoulder. Fortunately, Metal Man was a very lightweight robot to him. The cutterbot weakly protested being carried but ultimately just hung there limply in Crash’s hold. “Don’t care, not listening, we’re going back!” Crash Man never ran as fast as he did in his short life as he did right then and there. 

He kicked the doors to the warehouse open once more, found a dry spot along one of the walls, and he set Metal down against it. Almost immediately, Metal slumped and slid down to a sitting position, his head hung low. 

The orange drillbot sighed, letting out a heavy breath he didn't realize he was holding in. “Oh thank everything you’re still in one piece and awake…” He started, before his expression suddenly shifted. “METAL, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” He suddenly yelled at him. “YOU’RE A WALKING LIGHTNING ROD! Forget walking, actually! You can barely stand on your own! WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!” He fumed at the cutterbot. 

Metal’s expression was obscured by the mask and Metal Blade he sported. However, his ‘ears’ were flattened back. A hand slowly raised up to nurse his own head. “De… com…” 

“Metal, speak up.” Crash ordered him. He squatted down to his linemate’s eye level and he looked at him. “What were you doing? You have to tell me. You’re not– you’re not okay right now.” 

“Going… Light’s Lab…” Metal slurred his words and fumbled over them. He was breathing heavily, and his hand clutched and grasped at his helm. “Still spinning… … It hurts.” 

Crash’s expression softened a little, but frustration and confusion still swamped his mind. “What hurts?” He asked, quieter now. “Your head?” Regret was finding its place back in Crash’s mind now too. His own head buzzed and ached. Being angry right now wasn’t going to help him or anyone right now. He needed to try to hold it back. At least for now. Metal was hurt, and getting angry wasn’t going to fix him. Getting angry was what got them both into this situation in the first place.

“No… no…” Metal bemoaned. He limply lolled his head back and Crash finally got a good look at the cutterbot’s eyes. His optics still flickered strangely and his pupils remained still and unmoving, but optic cleaner had welled up at the corners of his eyes. “Going to the lab… to decommission… myself.” He muttered between breaths. 

What…? Crash blinked slowly. His expression slowly shifted again as he processed what Metal said. Worry and guilt crept through his circuits. “What…? Decommission–... why, Metal? You said that you wanted to make a more thorough plan for… something... You… y-you can’t decommission yourself!” 

Metal’s welling tears trickled down his cheeks. His mask slowly retracted itself. His expression looked… pained. “I’m not… not… not worthy.” He shakily said. 

“What are you– h-hey, don’t say that…” Crash muttered sadly. So many more emotions filtered into the drillbot’s mind, all too quickly, all too suddenly. Between the loud thoughts in his head, and what Metal was suggesting, it was so much. It was too much. He couldn’t find the word to describe it right now. But it was too much. “Please don’t say that, Metal… Why would you think that?” He said, trying his best to keep his emotions from exploding out. 

“ I’m a bad linemate.” Metal said, clumsily bringing a hand to cover and hide his crying eyes from Crash. “I wasn’t… wa-wasn’t there for you all… I’m… selfish…” He groaned and his breath hitched. “Spinning… so much…! You were right… I was using you. Crash… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” He cried weakly. 

“Metal– hey, hey…” Crash started feebly, but the rest of his words caught in his own throat. He… he didn’t know what to say. He looked down at his own drills helplessly. “Metal…” was all he could think of saying then. His own head kept boiling with raw emotions the longer Metal’s words sank into Crash’s mind. His feelings battered the inside of his head like thundering drums. 

“I couldn’t… can’t stand… existing like this… alone…” Metal cried quietly. “Doctor Wily… …abandoned me. Abandoned you… everyone… Unwanted…  Brought you back… so I could stop being alone… I didn’t… didn’t think about what you wanted at all…! I’m sorry…!” 

It was too much. It was too much. Crash brought up his drills to the sides of his head, feebly trying to clutch his head. He let out a small, pained noise. Something was breaking down the walls in his mind. He couldn’t help himself after all. 

Tears welled up in the corners of Crash’s own eyes and streamed down his cheeks. “No… n-no, Metal, no, I– I should be the one saying sorry to you…” Crash said in a wobbly voice. “I-I hurt you! I hurt you bad, Metal!” His breath hitched as his tears and emotions came down harder. “I didn't listen to you and I said really bad things… I'm sorry, Metal… I didn't mean any of it, I was just angry…! I wanted… I wanted you to feel hurt because I was angry…!” 

His emotions weighed him down like an anchor in his mind and deep in his core. Like the thunderstorm outside, Crash’s cries evolved into heavier sobs. If anything, he was a terrible linemate to Metal. He was already worthless before he fought Megaman, and he's done absolutely nothing but make everything worse for everyone today. I can't do anything right at all.  

“I'm the bad linemate, Metal,” Crash cried. “I'm bad to be around. You… you should've brought back someone else–” 

“Don't.” Metal suddenly cut him off. He reached for Crash– rather, kept his eyes covered as he waved his arm blindly to try to grab any part of him. Admittedly, the orange bot had no idea what Metal was doing. His hand landed on a drill and with surprising strength, Metal yanked Crash forward, into himself. Crash braced himself for impact, or some kind of punch or attack… but instead, he felt both of Metal’s arms wrapping around him. It took a moment to register what happened, but when it finally hit him, Crash’s tears flowed down his cheeks in earnest. He curled himself into Metal’s embrace and sobbed. 

Metal had closed his faulty, stinging, crying eyes and hugged Crash as best as he could. “It doesn't… take a genius… to tell that you're scared… Crash.” He said. “We do… stupid things… when we're scared… and angry…” Crash felt Metal weakly rubbing his back. The gesture was… nice to him… “I should've… taken you seriously… even if… you're irrational sometimes.” 

Crash sniffled and didn't say anything in response. Metal then added, “You're… just as worthy… as any of… our linemates.” 

If there was anything else holding back Crash’s waterworks by this point, that certainly destroyed it into little washable pieces. Crash’s sobs crescendoed into loud wails. He buried his face into Metal's chest and tried to muffle his own cries. He felt the cutterbot pat his back and weakly hold him. 

His loud wails and Metal’s soft crying lasted for a long while, at least from Crash’s perspective. The storm both outside and inside the warehouse lasted as well. Crash had… never sobbed like this with another linemate before. But everything was just so much. Eventually, perhaps mercifully, his tears began to slow down. Metal still had his eyes closed. 

“Metal…” Crash sniffled. “C-can you promise me something…?” He asked. 

“Yeah…?” 

He leaned back and looked at Metal’s face. “Can you promise me that you're never gonna talk about decommissioning yourself again? That kinda talk… scares me. And, there… there has to be a better way to deal with this than… than just giving up like that.” A thought just hit him. “A-and you're worthy, too! If I'm worthy, then you are, too.” 

Metal's eyes fluttered open somewhat, likely because he began crying again. “I promise.” He said so softly. “I'll be honest… Crash… I don't know what to do… with m-myself. I don't… know how to live… without an objective… without Doctor Wily… without my linemates…” 

Crash gazed at him sadly. He could understand what he was feeling. “I don't either.” Crash said, “All I've ever known is fighting Megaman and blowing things up. But… I'm your linemate. A-and I'm here, if that's anything at all.” 

Metal sniffled and grit his sharp teeth. He tried his best to hold back his sobs. He nodded quickly, and then winced in recoil. His hand came up to hold his own head again. 

“Maybe we can figure something out,” Crash offered. “Figure out what's next for us.” 

“Yeah.” Metal whispered among his tears. “Crash…? Can… you promise me something, too…” 

“Yeah. Of course.” Crash said. 

Metal let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes again. “Don't ever… hit my head this hard again.” He tiredly wiped at his own eyes. 

Crash looked surprised, and nodded vigorously. “I-I promise! It won't happen again! I just… I didn't realize I was hitting so hard.” 

“You were angry,” Metal sighed. 

“I was angry.” Crash said, feeling shame creep through his circuits. A silence fell over the two for a moment. 

“I forgive you.” Metal said quietly. “Ugh…” He clutched at his head.

“Are you still spinning…?” Crash asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah.”

“What… what does it feel like?”

Metal grimaced. “It's like… dizzy… whole world is spinning… spinning and sliding… and… my head feels weird… feel sick. Nausea. If I could throw up…” He shakily held up three fingers to Crash. “Three times… by now.” He weakly chuckled. “It’s a little better… if my eyes are closed. It’s… overwhelming…” 

That was the word that he was looking for earlier. Crash nodded and looked behind himself. “Do you need to lay down? The, uh, building is flooding, by the way. I-I, um, forgot to mention that earlier.” 

Metal kept his eyes shut, but he lifted a hand up and pointed towards one of the farther walls, where the forgotten materials sat. “Go get those… wooden pallets. Stack them together. Put the tarp on top… We’ll be… few feet off the ground… make a spot to rest…” He said. 

Crash nodded and stood up. “Got it.” 

With Metal’s orders, and Crash’s determination, a makeshift resting spot was easily put together. Metal was laid down carefully along the covered pallets, using his backpack as a pillow. To Crash’s surprise, Metal was able to detach his own shoulder-blades with ease, and discarded them nearby as he rested. A hand rested over the cutterbot’s closed eyes. 

Crash sat at the edge of the pallets, dangling his legs idly. He looked up at the skylight in the ruined ceiling. This storm wasn’t letting up anytime soon. And as long as it was still storming heavily, there was still the possibility that Metal could still become easy target practice for the dark, angry clouds above. The sun had long set already; there were no stars in the sky tonight. 

“Metal?” Crash asked quietly. “Did Doctor Wily really… abandon us?” 

“I don’t know…” Metal answered softly. “It feels… feels like it. But I don't know… where he is. Or if he… wants us. He had… wars… without us.” He quietly explained. 

Crash nodded sadly. His eyes were so tired… and yet, they still welled with tears. He tried to wipe them with his forearm. “Why…?” He asked softly. 

“...” Metal remained quiet. Crash waited, only breaking the silence whenever he sniffled. “...I don’t know…” Metal eventually answered. 

“H-how long was I at my Tower…?” Crash asked. 

“Five years…” 

Crash’s breath hitched again and he wept. He tried to wipe his tears away so badly, but his drills only ever just got in the way. He barely registered feeling at the end of his forearm. He peeked a stinging, wet eye open and saw Metal resting his free hand against his drill. Instinctively, Crash pulled his arm away. 

Five years! So Doctor Wily DID see him like garbage this whole time… It hurt him. It hurt deep inside his core. It hurts. Crash wept pathetically. “Does Doctor Wily hate me…?” Crash blubbered. “I-is he mad at me?” 

“...I don’t think he would…” Metal said quietly. 

“...Do you hate me?” 

“I don’t hate you.” Metal said. 

“But I damaged your head…” Crash cried. “I messed up again.” 

“It’s not… permanent… I promise… I don’t hate you… Crash.” Metal said. 

“It hurts…” Crash weeped. “My head hurts from being so sad.” 

Metal layed there, quiet. Crash feebly wiped at his eyes again.

“I’ve never been alone before…” He said quietly. “Not like this. M-my Tower is one thing, but… I always had everyone around me at Base. And Doctor Wily, too. He was the only human I ever… I...” Crash felt another wave of tears wash over him. He was so overwhelmed with sadness. “W-what are we supposed to do now…?” 

“I-I don’t know…” Metal said shakily. “But… b-but we can figure… it out…” Metal paused, before speaking up again. “What was that thing… that Quick used to say…” 

“Which thing?” Crash sniffled. “He said lots of things.” 

“The one… about Wilybots…” 

“‘Wilybots have to stick together,’” Crash quoted for him. “Metal… what are we now…?” Fear crawled its way into his mind and sat in the ocean of misery. 

“What do you mean…?” 

“We’re not Lightbots, but are we… are we even Wilybots anymore…? If Doctor Wily… doesn’t want us or takes care of us anymore…?” Crash asked. 

“We’re…” Metal exhaled heavily. “We’re Wilybots… forever. The world has been… against us… ever since we were built. That won’t change…” He explained. “But… having you here… makes me feel better. Makes me feel… not alone anymore… Not as scared…” He slowly peeked his eyes open, only to wince and close them shut again. “Scrap. Crash, listen…” The drillbot looked his way now. “I wanted to bring everyone back… because the humans… the humans can do… whatever they want to robots… especially us… if we’re all just scrap… laying around… in our stations. We can keep each other… safe… protected… if we’re all active… If we stick together. Like Quick said… back then.” 

Crash stared at Metal with wet, wide eyes. His eyes watered with tears again, before a popup message appeared in Crash’s vision. [ Optic cleaner refill needed ]. Crash sniffled and pushed the message out of his cognitive programs. “Metal…” He muttered miserably. But he nodded in agreement. 

“Being alone… in this world… is so terrifying, Crash. I’m still so scared.” Metal added. “I don’t… want you to feel how I felt… I don’t want… any of our linemates to feel… like that. I had to do… a lot of things… I didn’t like… so I could find your station.” 

“I’m sorry,” Crash apologized. 

“No… n-no. I didn’t mean it like that… I meant… meant… I will fight for our line…” Metal explained himself. He paused again, before saying quietly. “Robot Masters… keep fighting…” 

“...even if they’re terrified.” Crash breathed. “You… you remember that?” 

“It was… one of the last things… I heard that day,” Metal reminisced. “Quick says… a lot of scrap… but… I think… that one’s been getting mileage… out of me lately. I bet… he has a stupid smirk on his face… right now. His stupid… idiot face.” He couldn’t help himself but laugh breathily. He clutched his head gently as he wheezed his laughs out. It didn’t take long for Crash to join him, laughing among his tears. 

“He r-really would be smiling, I just know it… hahaha,” Crash quietly laughed, sniffling. A small, light smile appeared on Metal’s unmasked face. 

It felt… nice, to laugh again. To have something to laugh about again. Crash didn’t have any tears left, but the urge to cry… still overcame him. Nothing came out, much to his relief. He couldn’t take much more crying today. 

The tears subsided. The laughter subsided. Metal rested against the covered pallets peacefully. Crash began to kick his legs again idly… it was dark inside the warehouse. His teal eyes faintly glowed in the dark. “Metal?” Crash suddenly started. “If we bring more of our line back… maybe we can make them feel… nicer about, a-about all of this. Make them feel like how you said before.” Safe. Protected. “Maybe we could turn this place into a new Castle!” 

“I don’t know about… a whole Castle…” Metal said in the darkness. “This place… is a big ugly block. A dump, like you said…” 

“Then… what about a new Base? At the very least, we could have rooms and beds again, and dry floors, too.” Crash commented. “It could feel like old Base, then.” 

Metal’s mouth contorted a little at the joke. “Yeah. That would be nice…” 

Crash smiled in the darkness, too. “Yeah… It would.” He peeked back up at the skylight again. There was nothing but murky darkness up there. “Maybe after this storm clears up, we can get you fixed up, and we can turn this place into a new Base.” 

Metal, for the first time that night, untensed his body, and relaxed. “Yeah… I would like that. Let’s get some rest… Crash.”  

Chapter Text

-----

Rainfall from outside touched the earth in sighs and quiet drumming. The skies were painted in greys and dulled the mountains and forests below. Everything smelled of wet mud and foliage. 

The rain has been near-constant for a handful of days, while thunder and lightning came and went infrequently. Water pattered against the skylight and broken ceiling, dripping down onto the concrete ground. 

…Or so it seemed like a handful of days. 

Metal struggled to gauge the passage of time correctly as he laid upon the wooden pallets for who knows how long. He had no energy nor attention to spare for the time when his cognitive programs seemed to be self-cycling in a near-omnipresent, futile troubleshooting loop. 

[ Error(s) Found: 27. ]

[ Error Description: Unable to measure transpositional centro-servomechanical balance control updates. ]

[ Error Description: Unable to callback to previous transpositional centro-servomechanical balance control log at values: ?????? ?????? %11000%$?, ?????? ?????? %11000%$?, ???...  ] 

[ Error Description: Unable to define previous transpositional centro-servomechanical balance control log values: ?????? ?????? %11000%$?, ?????? ?????? %11000%$?, ???... ] 

[ Error Description: Unable to locate Centro-Servomechanical Balance Control Software V2.009.2 ] 

[ Attempting to re-establish connection to Centro-Servomechanical Balance Control Software V2.009.2 … … … Restarting connection… … … ] 

[ Reconnecting … … … ] 

[ Connection Failed. Previous Attempts Failed: 46 ] 

[ Error Description: Unable to establish connection to Centro-Servomechanical Balance Control Software V2.009.2. ] 

[ Suggestion Log: Check Hardware for proper connection. ] 

Astute observation, self. Metal silently huffed to no one in particular. He mentally pushed the multitude of pop-up notifications out of the way yet again. It was, at minimum, annoying to deal with this on top of the actual ailment at hand he’s currently struggling with. He could push away those messages all he likes and override his programs to just ignore the issue for now. But, the moment he begins to get up and move around again, the error messages and troubleshooting would just start all over again. 

He very rarely had such intrusive errors like this, as far as he could recall from his memories. But even back then, he was still the main administrator of his own software, so it was something he could’ve taken care of. … Right? Or… was the administrator Doctor Wily…? 

… hmm. I never bothered to ask him about that back then. I never thought I would’ve needed to, since Doctor Wily took care of us if we ever experienced any errors.  

Doctor Wily repaired them regularly. He created us, he repaired us, he upgraded us. He could do anything he wanted with us, Metal thought. It was a little comforting, knowing that he was in safe hands back then, knowing of one less thing he didn’t have to worry about back then. 

He was safe then. He was cared for then. He was Doctor Wily’s deadly weapon, his firstbuilt. He was where he belonged then. 

I wonder where he is now, he thought to himself. Is he with another set of Robot Masters? Is he alone…? Is he… no. No, he couldn’t be dead. Not when Doctor Light explained that the Ninth Robot War only just ended. Megaman wouldn’t– he cannot actually do that. That’s the difference between us and them.  

…or at least, it was. 

Metal very carefully lifted a hand up to rest over his closed eyes. The difference between himself and those Lightbots now is that currently, he can’t tell left from up from right from behind him from his peripheral fields from in front of him. His audio receptors thankfully still functioned just fine, miraculously so— given how Crash hit him— and helped to pinpoint his surroundings. 

Crash was a noisy Robot Master. He might not know where he is exactly, but he can always tell if he’s in the warehouse or not: his heavy boots and servos made his presence known to every being in the immediate vicinity. He would not know stealth if it hit him in his helmeted head. Perhaps, that’s why he was only Secondary Intelligence Officer, rather than Chief. Flash was worthy of the higher title, in his opinion: he was quiet, careful and thoughtful. Calculating like himself. He could appreciate his fellow linemate for it. 

Not to say that Crash is without his own strengths as well, Metal argued to himself. There has to have been a reason why he operated the way he did then, before our attack on Megaman. Why he had so many Pipis and why he constructed his Tower the way he did. Surely, there has to have been a reason why. 

And if anything, Crash seemed determined to right his wrongs as well. It was obvious that he was at least trying. He could not let that slip by without recognition. 

Speaking of the short, orange force of destruction, he could hear him approaching once again. He’s been awfully active today, Metal commented. Maybe he’s bored? That’d make two of them, then. Bored and stressed as time passed. His ear twitched lightly as Crash went over to him. 

“Hey Metal?” Crash asked him, his voice at a surprisingly normal volume. He could tell that he was nearby, but was unable to tell where exactly his voice was coming from. How irritating… “I think today might be safe to go outside. I think the storm’s finally letting up.” Oh, thank everything. A pressure dipped below Metal– Crash was sitting at the edge of the pallets. He felt an oversized drill abruptly poke at his torso. “‘You awake?” 

“I’m awake.” Metal said quietly, lazily shoving Crash’s drill away. “It doesn’t… smell like storm? Smell like… electricity…?” He asked. 

Crash seemed to double-check, before exhaling. “I think so? It’s easier to tell out there– It stinks in here like fungus.” 

“Fungus…?” 

“What did Doctor Wily call those funguses that were in the Castle sewers and tunnels?” 

Ah. “Mildew.” Wait, no. “Mold. Doctor Wily… humans… can’t inhale those. They’ll die.” 

“Ohhhh…” Crash said in recognition. “That’s why he was complaining about it.” Crash, did you only just put that together now…? “Oh. Ohhh. That’s why Bubble was really unhappy about cleaning it up.” 

“Crash, anybody… would be miserable… cleaning… all that up…” Metal said. He felt bad that Wily put the task on Bubble, but also at the same time, he was so quietly relieved then that it wasn’t put on him. The Sewers were not only Doctor Wily’s personal septic tank, but also one absolutely volatile cocktail of industrial-grade chemical waste as well. The fact that any robot could persist in there as security, such as those Big Fish robots… Just what were they made of? “You would… need to be… sanitized… extremely thoroughly… afterwards. It’s not pleasant.” 

“Oh. Yikes,” was all Crash said, before getting back on topic. “Well, at least everything smells fresh outside. I think we might be able to make the trek to Doctor Light’s Lab today without you getting fried.” Well. More fried than already , Metal quietly commented to himself. 

“You’re sure…? If I get… fried…” 

“Hey,” Crash barked, “You didn’t care earlier if you did!” 

Metal frowned, but… Crash was right. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Fair point… I can always… adapt… at least…” 

“Adapt to what? Not getting yourself killed?” Crash said with a hint of a laugh in his voice. 

“Grow and change… as a Wilybot.” Metal huffed. “Learn… how not to… attract lightning… like moths… to a flame. So yes. Precisely.” Another surprise he’s had to learn about his new body ever since being reactivated. Being composed primarily out of Ceratanium now meant better defenses and structural integrity… but at the expense of being hyperconductive.  

How has Megaman not yet fallen to an electric Robot Master? 

Metal peeked an optic just barely open. His vision was hazy at best, and erratic and distorted at worst. He could make out Crash Man’s silhouette beside him, but nearly nothing else was easily recognizable within his warped sight. Being visually impaired was also something he’s quickly learned to despise. He was supposed to have the best vision of his entire line, if not of all Wilybots. His sense of sight and hearing were fine-tuned to pick up even the most minute details and movements, to determine textures and flaws from afar, to pick up faint sounds even on a battlefield. He closed his eyes again. He can’t stand this, but he’d have to deal with it just a little longer, if he opted to trust Crash’s judgment. If Crash was right. 

“Alright…” Metal said. “Let’s go, then… Do you… know how to get back…?” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Crash said. “I’ve got it all memorized in my head now. I figured out a path when I was scouting this area, before I grabbed you.” The pallets under him bent again– Crash hopped back onto his feet. There was some kind of shifting noise and a pause. “Metal?” 

“Hm?” Metal peeked an optic open again and… why was Crash kneeling before him? “What are you… doing…” He said. 

“Hop on.” Crash said ever so casually, gesturing with his head. “It’s either this or I’m dragging you to the Lab.” 

That elicited a tired bark out of Metal. “Hah…! Like hell you’re… fragging dragging me back… ” He snorted. He wasn’t looking forward to the whirlwind of vertigo he was about to experience. “Gimme… a bit… first…” Metal said as he kept his eyes screwed shut now. With some hesitance, he felt around the pallets below him before positioning himself… and sloppily throwing his body overboard, onto Crash’s back. The drillbot didn’t even flinch. “Scrap…” He muttered, quickly bringing his arms around what chassis of Crash Man he could reach and hold on tight. 

The drillbot supported his legs with his arms and drills. Crash got up– way too quickly– and Metal immediately buried his face into Crash’s shoulder. “Too fast…” He muttered weakly. 

“You’ll be fine soon, Metal,” Crash tried to reassure him, “Once you get repaired, you’ll feel brand new, and then we can start rebuilding this place. Make it smell not-moldy, and then we can get more linemates online, right?” 

“That’s the plan… for now…” 

“Okay, cool!” Crash declared, way too loudly for the cutterbot being carried on his back. Metal winced. “Let’s go!” 

The trek to Light Laboratories wasn’t a long trip, by any means, but that did not soften the blow it did to Metal Man’s physical and mental wellbeing. He could hear his own internals rattling with Crash’s steps and it was distressing, to say the least. He kept his eyes closed the whole time, mainly keeping his audio receptors alert for sounds. He kept his chatting to a minimum, but that didn’t stop his linemate from interrupting the ambience of the wet forest. 

“Hey Metal,” Crash asked during some point of their hike, “I’ve been thinking about something. Why do you always look so stressed?” 

…Really? Should he even humor Crash with an answer? There’s no way he could be this oblivious to his surroundings… right? And yet, against better judgment, Metal answered him. “Given… our circumstances right now… can you blame me…?” 

Crash clicked his tongue and adjusted his hold on Metal. “Well, I mean– yeah, it makes sense right now. But I meant back before we fought Megaman, too. Whenever I’d see you, you looked… I dunno… stiff? On edge? Nervous?” 

The cutterbot’s eyes opened wide, before immediately snapping shut again. Oof… “...” If he could blink in surprise, Crash has no doubt earned it from him. How the hell was Crash able to parse that together about him, let alone determine that while he was helmeted and wearing a mask? “I…” Metal stumbled over his thoughts. “I…” He sighed lightly against Crash’s back. “...I think too much.” He admitted quietly. 

“Oh.” Crash simply said. “...how does a robot think too much?” 

“It– It’s… not easy to explain…” Metal said. “I’ll… I’ll tell you when… I can explain it. And what about you?” Crash simply made a small, curious noise in response. Metal continued, “Let me… ask you then: Why do your… emotions… hit extremes… so often…?”

It was then Crash’s turn to go quiet. Metal kept a keen receptor attentive, in case Crash decided he really didn’t like that question suddenly. But thankfully, it never came down to that. Crash answered quietly too, his emotions vague at best to the cutterbot. “...I don’t know… I don’t know why I’m like this at all.”  

“...” Both of the Wilybots remained quiet after that, and for most of the remainder of the trek as well. Briefly, Metal questioned if perhaps he had soured Crash’s mood again in a move of foolish brashness, but… Crash wasn’t in a frenzy nor rampaging… he wasn’t upset either. He can overthink about that later. He simply rested his head against his linemate, at least until Crash needed him alert again. 

With due time, the two Wilybots had endured the storm, the hike, and reached their destination once again: Light Laboratories. First things first, Metal needed repairs badly, and then from there, they could progress forward with their new objectives. 

…it still felt weird to call it that, especially since he was the one giving himself that. It didn’t feel legitimate to him, not if it wasn’t assigned by Doctor Wily. But he at least had to keep holding on for now. Both figuratively and literally. 

“Metal, we’re here but uh…. the door’s missing.” Crash said quietly to him. The wine-red bot peeked an optic open, but to no avail. His vision was still a static-y, distorted mess. He couldn’t make out anything at all.  

“Is there… a Crash Man-shaped… hole in the wall…” Metal snarked. 

“Actually, no,” Crash commented back. “There’s a shiny door frame and some kind of clear wrapping, and… uh… …” The orange drillbot slowly trailed off. “Uhhh… …” 

To his dismay, the cutterbot still couldn’t make out any shapes with his damaged vision. “And what…?” He asked quietly. 

Another voice answered in place of Crash instead. “Well, well, well. Look who came back right to the scene of the crime.” The voice teased. 

Metal recognized that voice. He recognized that voice all too well. Oh.

Oh no. 

Ohhh no— 

“BOMB MAN?!” Crash suddenly screamed in surprise, at a near-deafening volume to his linemate. And almost dropping Metal’s legs as well. He scrambled to support him again. 

“Hey! You know me! Glad that petty old bag of bones taught you all something, hah!” Bomb Man chirped from the open doorway to the Light residence. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Crash Man. And pretty damn nice to see you all-put together now, too!” Metal could not tell what was going on, but… there seemed to be some kind of awkward pause. “Dude, I’m not gonna bite or start chucking Hyper Bombs. Come inside, man.” 

“Metal,” Crash whispered to him, “ That was Bomb Man. ” 

“So I’ve heard,” Metal groaned, irritated. “Just… follow him in. We’re not… gonna fight him.” He tiredly smacked his hand on Crash’s chest to get him out of his stupor. 

The orange Wilybot seemed to have snapped back to reality again, and, with surprising caution, stepped inside the Light residence. The change in temperature was pleasant at least; the warmth of indoors somewhat helped to ease the cutterbot’s tension. 

“Like I said outside, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Bomb said to the smaller Wilybot. “...What’s the look for? I’m serious! You don’t get to meet your successor who was dead for years everyday now. Y’know, your buddy Metal and I found you at your old station last week. I really mean it when I say it’s rewarding to see you finally reconstructed.”

Crash remained as still as a statue. Metal murmured quietly to him, “Keep it together, Crash. Don’t… try not… not to freak ou–” 

“B-Bomb Man I’m your biggest fan.” Crash suddenly blurted out. 

What?

There was another pause between all the robots in the room. 

… 

“Real?” Bomb asked. 

“YES.” Crash stated, nodding vigorously, and accidentally jostling Metal in the process. He gave Crash another smack on the chest. 

“Well, thanks lil’ dude, I’m flattered!” Oh, Metal could tell that the rotund bomberbot was grinning receptor-to-receptor with that one. “And how’ve you been, Metal Man? Not gonna lie, you’re not looking too hot.” 

“Damaged… need repairs.” Metal answered shortly. 

“Yeowch. That sucks but… not surprised at that, considering… y’know,” Bomb Man seemed to have made some kind of vague gesture, one that Metal Man completely did not see whatsoever, but understood either way. “You want me to go fetch Light for you?” He asked. 

“Please…” 

“Gotcha. You two sit tight, ‘kay?” And with that, Bomb Man’s presence sounded further and further away, until Metal recognized the light chime of the personal elevator. 

… 

“You actually… like Bomb Man?” Metal asked incredulously. 

“I– how could I not?!” Crash said back excitedly, before finally noticing his linemate wincing. “Oh, sorry.” He lowered his volume, thankfully. “Him and Guts Man were my design’s inspirations… of course, I do! Bomb Man’s raw explosive power, and Guts Man’s pure strength… I’m supposed to be like the best parts about the both of them. …at least, Doctor Wily told me so.” 

Metal couldn’t exactly relate to him. He felt next to nothing positive about his design’s originator, Cut Man. 

“I’ll be honest, Metal, getting to meet Bomb Man had never once been on my Bingo card, not now, not back then… I’m… really nervous, for some reason?” 

“It’s because… for you, you’re meeting… a celebrity…” Metal explained, before his brows slowly furrowed. “How do you… know what Bingo is…” 

“Oh, Flash played it with me and Heat one time. It was kind of funny because he kept getting mad because Heat was cheating.” 

“Where did… Flash get… Bingo cards…?” 

“He told me that he stole them from one of those elderly-human-residencies. The ones where they gather all the old humans together to… Idunno… play games together?” 

“... …huh??”  

Before Crash Man could further elaborate and confuse Metal Man more, the elevator dinged again. Based on the footsteps he heard, it sounded like the whole gang was here this time. …hopefully, that doesn’t include Megaman, Metal thought to himself. 

“Back so soon already?” Doctor Light’s voice greeted them in that polite and jovial tone of his. “I do hope that the storm was not too rough on you both. I had wanted to ask if you would like to stay the night if you do not have any shelter of your own, but… it seems you both had other business to take care of first.” 

“It’s fine… now… Doctor.” Metal first spoke. “My…. apologies….” 

“It’s quite alright, Metal Man,” Light reassured the Wilybot, before taking a step forward. Metal felt and heard Crash instinctively take a few steps back. “Ah… it’s quite alright too, Crash Man. I mean you both no harm, you have my promise. I was informed by Bomb Man here that your linemate is damaged?” 

Crash didn’t answer him. He felt still again. 

“May I ask what your issues are, Metal Man?” 

“Centro… servo… mechanical… balance…–” Metal started quietly. 

“He can’t balance right. And his vision is shot.” Crash answered, louder. “His head’s messed up.” 

“Ah, I see. And… may I ask you two how he sustained these damages?” 

Crash stiffened again and went quiet. Doctor Light waited patiently. A silence fell between the robots and the doctor in the room. 

“The roof caved in…” Metal broke the silence. “Where we’ve… been staying… roof collapsed in storm… on top of me… Hit my head.” He lied through his teeth. He could feel the drillbot untensing his servos and joints, thankfully. He also relaxed a little as well. An awkward explanation and potential drama averted. 

“Oh dear,” another voice, which Metal quickly recognized as Roll’s, commented. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Metal Man. All in the middle of this sudden storm, too! We can definitely get you patched up. Right, Doctor Light?” 

“Scra–” Bomb started, but eyed the Doctor and Roll near him and coughed. “ Dang . That blows. If you want, I can probably patch up the roof for you guys. Especially if the weather isn’t gonna change next week.” 

“You would do that for us?” Crash asked. “Even though we’re Wilybots?” 

“Of course we would!” Roll interjected. 

“Yeah, dude. Wilybot or not, any Robot Master deserves a sturdy roof over their head. Also, we just put you guys back together. If anything, I’m not gonna let the elements undo all that hard work.” Bomb added, before muttering, “(It’s not like I’ve got anything to do now, anyways…)” 

“We’ll take… your offer…” Metal said. “Thank you.” 

“Uh, t-thank you! Sincerely!” Crash added, lightly bowing. “A-and even after, I, uh… broke some stuff, too. I’m, uh, sorry about that.” 

“It’s okay, ” Doctor Light said, mildly exasperated. “Come now, let’s get your linemate repaired and fixed up in a jiffy, so you three can work on your shelter repairs next.” The drillbot nodded, before following the good Doctor down to the laboratory with his linemate in tow. 

“...There we are. You can open your eyes now. Please do tell me how it feels.” 

Following the order of the good Doctor, the wine-red Wilybot slowly opened his eyes. For the first time in days, light shone clearly and illuminated the world around him. Everything was crisp and clear. Metal tested his peripheral vision, his zoom-in capabilities, his detail-processing on the laboratory around him. Finally, finally. His vision was clear once more, as clear as his sharp mind and sense of balance were once again. He let out a small sigh of relief. “My optics are working optimally, looks like,” Metal stated. “I’m not picking up any errors with my sight.” 

With a twist of his body, he turned to face Doctor Light, and carefully hopped onto his feet. To his immense relief, the troubleshooting programs within his cognitive programs were finally satiated and quiet. No more spinning and sliding, oh thank everything . He focused on the good Doctor, who was coughing lightly into his handkerchief again. “My centro-servo balance control is running just fine, too. My cognitive programs are keeping up with my speech inputs as well.” He sighed again, looking away from the doctor. “Thank you again, Doctor. You have been… rather forgiving with me, lately. I’m not sure how I will be able to repay you for your generosity.” 

The cutterbot was met with a peculiar look from Doctor Light, admittedly one that threatened to frustrate him. It was the same look that Bomb Man had given him the day that he was botnapped by him. The elderly man shook his head and offered a small smile his way. “It would do you some good to remove ‘rather’ from your sentence; Forgiveness is practically a necessity if we are to progress forward, at least from my experiences this past decade. Please don’t worry about this. However…” Doctor Light stated, “I suppose that, as for ‘repayment’, as long as you and Crash Man tell me anything regarding your progress in this experiment next month, then I am content as can be.” 

“Of course,” Metal said, nodding along. It wasn’t much that he requested, but if it was enough for him, then it was what Metal would give him. He… admittedly wasn’t sure what he would even tell Doctor Light, let alone what kind of information he could even trust with him. It’s a bridge that we can cross when we actually get to it, at least. Metal thought. He hadn’t even really informed Crash in detail yet about this whole experiment… He has got to find the time to sit Crash down and talk, now that he’s fully repaired. “You have my word, Doctor.” 

“Just one?” Doctor Light quipped, turning to his computers again. 

Metal paused, processing what he meant by that. It took an embarrassing few seconds before Metal’s eyes widened and he turned around. “One, at the very least. Maybe two. Three if it’s a good day.” He quipped back. That seemed to get the Doctor chuckling and content. Metal looked back to the elevator once more. “I’ll be on my way, then. I have repairs I need to prepare to make. Thank you once more.” 

“Have a good day, Metal Man. Be safe.” 

With a humble wave, the cutterbot exited the underground Laboratory and found himself in the living room again once more. It was empty, which did more to distress him than comfort him for the time being. He didn’t know where Crash was. He didn’t know where Crash was, and Bomb Man was in the nearby vicinity. He thought better than to immediately bolt outside, and hesitantly, he quietly crept around the living room. He poked his head into the kitchen entrance. There was no Crash Man, only one Roll Light, looking through a large book.  

“Hey, um,” he began quietly, before swallowing and speaking a little louder, “H-hey. Um, Roll, was it? Can I ask you something?” 

The Lightbot straightened herself and put a bookmark on her current page. “Hey, Metal Man. What’s up? How’re you feeling now, too?” 

Metal stared at her, before looking elsewhere. “I’m better now. Um, have you seen Crash anywhere?” Is he safe? Is he calm? Is what he wanted to ask, but the words seemed to have caught in his mechanical throat in front of this deceptively strong little girl. 

Roll didn’t seem to notice the change in the Wilybot’s demeanor, and instead pursed her lips. “Not recently, at least. I think he’s still hanging out with Bomb outside.” She DID, however, notice the Wilybot’s skin pale and she couldn’t help herself but laugh a little. “Haha, don’t worry~!” She chimed. “I’m sure that he’s fine. After all, Bomb is a good guy, like, a really good guy. He’ll make sure that Crash Man’s okay.” 

And yet, that didn’t ease Metal’s nervousness at all. The cutterbot’s mind swarmed with imagery and ideas of Bomb Man doing the exact opposite, in fact. Bomb Man is careless, reckless, a troll, and way too casual about things that matter. He did NOT need Bomb Man further enabling every sudden impulse or questionable choice Crash has. No, Crash didn’t need Lightbots guiding him. 

Metal nodded and pushed out a “Thank you” as he turned around and headed for the front exit. At least, before Roll called out to him suddenly. 

“Hey! Hey, wait a second!” Roll said, following after him. Metal paused and turned to face her. She held a finger out to him. “Isn’t there something you’re forgetting about?” She asked, smiling. 

“...” Metal blinked at her. His ear twitched, listening intently. “...no?” 

Roll replied by making a noise with her mouth– is that supposed to be a buzzer sound? “Guess again! I’ve got something for you, actually. Think you can stay here for like a minute or two while I go get it?” 

“What is it?” 

The cleaning bot smirked. “It’s a surprise, duh . I’m gonna be right back, so don’t go anywhere!” She said before rushing upstairs, leaving the Wilybot to himself. 

Metal huffed, crossing his arms. This better be good. He drummed his fingers against his forearm impatiently and idly chewed his lower lip behind his mask. At least, he knew Crash was just outside. But… leaving him alone with Bomb Man worried him considerably. The possibilities of just how things could go wrong, or how he could get them both in trouble, or how Bomb could influence Crash for the worse, swamped his mind. They were nonstop and counting. Bomb seemed to already have gotten himself, Guts Man, and that other robot he doesn’t remember in trouble already, he did not want to know what he was capable of while unemployed . 

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to pick up the quick and light footsteps of the cleaning bot, and Metal watched as Roll ran down the stairs with… oh. 

Oh. So that’s what she meant. 

She ran up to the Wilybot, whose sharp red eyes were already trained and focused on her little surprise. She grinned and presented it up to him. “Ta-da~! How do you like my handiwork?” Roll asked. 

Sitting in her hands was a smaller, lesser robot that Metal was very familiar with. It was the very same Pipi Roll had swiped from him over half a week ago. The same Pipi he had retrieved from Crash’s station, but with some noticeable changes. “You repaired this yourself?” He asked, raising an eyebrow under his helm. 

“Yeah! …well, mostly. I did have to call Doctor Cossack about some of the internal workings, like the energy supply system. I think it was damaged.” 

“Not surprised.” Metal said under his breath, as Roll gingerly handed him the restored Pipi. He briefly felt a sensation of déjà vu as he took the Pipi. He remembers being in an all-too familiar position back in his Factory. It was a warmer memory of simpler times: Pierobots who brought him Parts and produced Models of varying robots, unsure if their defects were acceptable deviations or not, if they still were within Metal’s tolerances. Metal carefully checking each and every robot brought to him, and ultimately deciding which ones were acceptable, and which ones needed to be reworked or just scrapped altogether. 

He gave the Pipi a thorough lookover, as he would any other robot he produced. There was one blaring deviation from his blueprints that he couldn’t ignore. “You changed its outer coating,” Metal stated, “This definitely isn’t E40058. It’s too dark.” It was darker and muted. There seemed to be a patch where its gaping hole once was— even that was a different pink altogether.

Roll looked away and smiled a little more sheepishly as Metal looked over the birdbot. “Weeell, I tried to match the original color. But there were only so many colors we had here… I think this color is nice, at least. Its darker pink reminds me of your armor’s color.” 

Metal paused his inspection for a moment to process her words. Oh… That was… He blinked again, before refocusing back on the task at hand. “I guess.” He murmured quietly, before finding the next deviation. “The dorsal fin also isn’t fully restored to its original shape. Its wing segments aren’t uniform, or even fully symmetrical– What happened to its legs?” Metal continued on, carefully turning the Pipi in his hands.  

“Hey, cut me some slack, I’m not Doctor Light!” Roll barked defensively. She crossed her arms, pouting. “I think I did a pretty good job, even if there’s flaws! It’s not like I fixed this up in a Factory, I did this in my bedroom!” She huffed loudly. 

Metal glanced at Roll for a moment, before focusing his gaze on the inactive Pipi again. “Why did you want to repair this yourself?” He asked. 

Roll still pouted, but she spoke calmer and quieter. “Well… I don’t think this Pipi is going to be the only bird robot I’ll be working on soon, to be honest. I wanted the Pipi mainly so I could… kind of practice first? And of course, it’s really cute too. Its chirps are really cute.” 

“I see,” Metal hummed. “You want to get into maintenance and repairs?” 

“Yeah…” Roll sighed, smiling to no one in particular. “I think it’d be really nice if one day I could become an expert on it, and then maybe I could be a master at repairing both robots and humans! Doctor Light built me to assist with household tasks, but he works himself down to the bone way too often. I know you wouldn’t tell Doctor Light anything, so I’ll tell you a secret…” She then lowered her voice to a quiet hush, and leaned closer to the Wilybot. “It kind of makes me feel angry when I see Doctor Light constantly working on robots who need repairs, and Rock gets to help out, and Auto gets to help out, too… But I’m always told to sit back, or be on standby in case anything happens, or to cook another plate of chicken… when there’s real work I could be doing instead. Ugh… it’s really annoying!” 

Metal raised an eyebrow again. It looks like it’s not just Bomb Man, then; There’s a rebellious streak running in multiple Lightbots. He found it amusing, and it was also something he wasn’t necessarily opposed to, either. Doctor Light was still his enemy, after all. The desire to learn how to repair robots… was something that Metal could understand. He knew his lesser robots’ designs inside and out; they were usually easy fixes. But… but if he knew how to repair his fellow linemates back then… 

Air’s words rang through his mind again, and Metal pushed them away for now. He peered down at the Pipi. “...if the Pipi is still fully functional, then I think that this repair job is acceptable,” he quietly told her. 

The Lightbot’s eyes lit up at his words. “Really?” She said, a little too eager for Metal’s comfort. “We should activate it now and see!” 

Metal backed up a little. “Some space.” He said flatly, before expertly working to open up a hidden compartment on the underside of the Pipi. This is a Surveillance Type Model-3, so the hatches and power switch would be on the underside. He carefully moved his fingers to adjust and fine-tune some tiny auxiliary setting knobs and switches, before turning on the power, and closing the hatches. He let the Pipi sit in his hands. 

It took but only a few seconds, before Metal picked up the nostalgic hum of the Pipi’s booting process and energy system startup. There was a hiccup here and there, before it decided to fully fire up. The Pipi’s pupils recalibrated themselves, and the birdbot tested its fin and wing movement. It eventually gazed up at its holder and let out a loud, synthetic chirp. 

“Hello there.” Metal greeted the birdbot, his expression focused. “Idle Mode.” 

At his command, the Pipi idled, only turning its body with a chirp on each step and hop, akin to many small organic birds. Metal nodded. “Standby Mode.” In an instant, the cutterbot had the Pipi’s full attention. “Activate Recording Devices: Audio and Visual.” The Pipi stared intensely at Metal, its mouth hanging open for a second before closing. Its pupils seemed to refocus and shift, concentrating on Metal’s face. “Hello world. I’m the first Pipi active in 200X.” Metal said in a lighter tone. “End Recording. Activate Recording Playback: Audio only.” 

The Pipi paused for a moment. Roll watched with great interest, and was leaning closer again. The Pipi opened its mouth, and an audio recording played back out loud. It was Metal’s voice. “Hello world. I’m the first Pipi active in 200X.” 

Metal nodded again in approval. “Good. Idle Mode.” The Pipi resumed its more ‘organic’ state of behavior, giving another chirp to its commander. He held out a finger sideways for the Pipi, who perched upon it without hesitation. He looked back at Roll, who… was staring at him awestricken. 

“Stop staring at me with those big eyes,” Metal said, avoiding her gaze. The cleaning bot sheepishly looked away too and mouthed an apology. “It can follow all of its primary commands, and,” he flicked his hand to launch the Pipi, which immediately squeaked and flapped its wings to stay afloat in the air, “it can fly. So, it’s acceptable.” 

Roll’s eyes widened, and she suddenly jumped and pumped her fist in the air. “Yes!” She said quietly with a grin. 

“But,” Metal added, “It could be better. You still have more to learn.” 

“Of course, of course!” She said, nodding and bowing. “Thank you for appraising my work! And I’m really honestly glad that you like the Pipi. This kind of made my day, actually!” 

“Hmph. This is just what I’m used to doing at my station. It’s not anything special.” Metal retorted, looking away again. 

“Yeah, whatever you say, Mr. Wilybot who made every Pipi ever,” she snarked, smirking. “You even gave me the time of day while you were looking for Crash Man. It means a lot.” 

Metal’s eyes suddenly snapped wide open. “Oh my god I forgot about Crash.” He muttered out loud before suddenly bolting out the front entrance, ignoring Roll’s laughter behind him. The magenta Pipi squeaked and flew after Metal. 

… 

Metal looked around wildly for any sign of his short orange linemate, as well as that damned bomberbot. He suspected the worst and considered running into the forest to search, but thankfully, his audio receptors picked up on Crash’s voice. He looked in his direction and finally saw him. Him and Bomb Man seemed to be in a conversation right by the latter’s truck. 

Metal huffed and made his way over to the two. “There you are!” He breathed, before immediately giving Bomb a sharp, pointed look. “What did you tell him while I was under repairs.” Bomb looked back at Metal and began snickering. He narrowed his eyes at the bomberbot. 

“Metal!” Crash greeted, waving a drill his way. “You’re back to normal!” He smiled at him, before catching sight of something behind him. “Hey Metal, what’s that with y– Pipi?!” Crash’s eyes widened and his face brightened considerably. The birdbot in question chirped in recognition and dived right at him. “PIPI?! PIPI!! Pipi!! Ahaha! A Pipi! Oh my god, something normal! Hahahaha!” Crash laughed and grinned widely as the Pipi flew around him and greeted him with a series of chirps and songlike notes. “Where– where did you– This is one of my Pipis! This is my Pipi!” 

Metal let out an exhale and relaxed himself. He had to admit… the sight of Crash utterly elated and laughing with the restored Pipi was easing his nervousness. Crash was content, and Bomb seemed to be behaving, though he’ll have to confirm that himself later on. He smiled lightly behind his mask. “I found that Pipi while Bomb and I were searching your station for you,” Metal explained, “It was in a salvageable state, so I thought maybe it’d be nice to at least have something familiar to us while we figure this out.” 

Bomb gave Metal a knowing smile, before he grinned. “You know, that’s awfully thoughtful of you, Metal. Are you sure you’ve got a war machine’s core in you?” He joked. 

“Shut up.” Metal deadpanned. “I’m allowed to think about my linemates.” 

“Wait, no, but…” Crash stammered, seemingly staring at nothing. He idly lifted a drill up, and the Pipi perched itself comfortably on it. “I…” He struggled to put his thoughts together. He turned his attention on the Pipi, and smiled at the birdbot. He lifted his other drill gently to the Pipi, who nuzzled itself against his free drill. “I… I don’t know how to word it good, but… I’m really, really happy, Metal. I… t-thank you. Like a lot.” Crash lifted the Pipi closer to his face, and the birdbot nuzzled against his helmet next. 

The orange Wilybot made eye contact with the cutterbot, if only for a moment. Metal’s eyes widened in surprise, and he looked away from Crash, crossing his arms. “It’s n– I– Uh. Y-you’re welcome.” He said quietly. The Pipi chirped and cheeped at Crash, who in turn, grinned and copied its call with his own chirp. The Pipi chirped back at him, copying him. The two robots seemed to get caught up in their bird call imitations. Metal glanced at Bomb, and immediately frowned behind his mask. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Looking like what now?” Bomb joked, looking away and not even bothering to hide the smile on his face. “From what I heard from the old man, you two were at each other’s throats last time you were here. Makes me wonder what happened to the Wilybot who tried to slice me into pieces,” he teased. “Is someone warming up after spending years in all that snow and ice?” 

“Go frag yourself,” Metal said bluntly, “And that’s none of your business.” It was none of any Lightbots’ business what goes on between him and his linemates. 

“Fair enough, hahaha!” Bomb laughed. Metal scowled more. “So, are y’all ready to hit the city today? Feeling mint-condition now? I know a few places we can grab some materials for.”  

“Yeah, let’s get started.” Metal said, before looking over at his linemate. “Crash.” The ‘bot in question looked his way. The Pipi copied him. “It’s time to go. We’re heading to Monsteropolis for materials.” 

“Okay!” 

“Oh yeah, one more thing, by the way.” Bomb said to the two of them. “The front of my truck’s only got two seats, so uh, one of you’s gotta go in the back.” 

“Yeah. Yeah no, that’s gonna be you, Crash.” Metal said. He looked at Bomb, “Try not to drive like a maniac this time, will you? Or else there’s gonna be a Crash Man-shaped hole in your truck.” 

Bomb looked over at nothing in particular and whistled innocently. “No promises.” Metal sighed. At least he wouldn’t be completely at Bomb Man’s mercy this time. 

If Metal had to say one good thing about Bomb, it was that sometimes his knowledge that's come with being active all these years certainly came in handy. He had offered a few ideas the cutterbot's way; Since, for resources, they currently lacked everything compared to their previous lives, acquiring tools would be higher on their priority list. Tools for repairing not just robots, but also for repairing their shelter as well. Cleaning supplies to keep it well-maintained as well. Tools and supplies, then raw materials for repairing the roof. Bomb was quick with his thoughts and subjected the Wilybot to 20 Questions before continuing on. “If this is a place you want to use as a shelter for your line and stay away from humans and all'at,” Bomb stated, “and if it's abandoned and falling apart? Yeah, you might as well make the place yours, then. ‘Could get some graph paper and draw up some floor plans, put in rooms and dividers, hell, you could get electricity and water running too. Sounds fun, to be honest.”

“I would've thought you'd be against something like this. It's some human's building, after all.” Metal mused. 

“Or it used to be someone's in the past. If anyone owns it now, they're not doing jack shit with it, so it may as well be fair game.” Bomb replied casually. “There's a lot of robots out there in kinda similar positions to yours: needing a place to live, needing repairs, needing a safe place and shelter, only for humans to reject them at every turn. It ain't easy for any of us. If there's something I can do in my power to help another Robot Master out, and stick it to greedy rich humans, too? Then yeah, I'm doing it, haha.” 

Metal hummed in pensive thought and didn't say anything else. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. 

Wily Castle II was impressive by all means back then. It made his and Crash’s decrepit little warehouse look like a tool shed in comparison. His original home was advanced, spacey, clean, always busy with robotic life running through its halls. And when he wasn't there, he had his ‘home away from home’: his Factory. Sure, it was his workspace and his personal station in the Second War, but it was also ‘home’ to him as well. His personal quarters safely tucked away near one of the back ends of the Factory, full of things that would surely remain as nothing more than memories now. It had a window he could peek through, and behold his corner of the world in all of its frozen beauty. 

He wondered what it could’ve looked like now… what Bomb saw when he retrieved his fallen body. Metal let his mind drift for a while. 

The drive to the heart of Monsteropolis couldn’t have been a long drive, not any longer than over an hour. Their little truck came to a stop in a sector of the city that Metal was unfamiliar with. Which is to say, most of the portions of Monsteropolis, truthfully. No Robot Museum in sight this time around. No glizzy vendors. “Alright, hop on out. I’ve got a game plan for you, boss.” Bomb chirped. 

With that, the Lightbot and Wilybot filed out of the truck. Soon enough, Bomb was pulling the back door open as well to let Crash out as well, who climbed out with his new companion. Both Crash and Metal equally gazed around this new part of Monsteropolis, taking in the new environment. Well, ‘new’ wasn’t a good descriptor for it, as it looked dirty and rundown instead. Across the intersection near where they parked, another huge establishment stood tall before them. It had a tall steel border and a large, rusted entrance gate. Metal spoke first. “Alright, so what’s this idea you have?” He focused his optics on the signage around the entrance. East Monsteropolis Junkyard. “Why did you take us to a dump?” 

“Hey, chill. It’s not just any dump. It’s my Number One go-to when I want decent stuff for free! You know there’s a human saying here,” Bomb grinned at the confused two, “ One man’s trash is another’s treasure . You’ve got no idea how much useful stuff I’ve found here over the years. I even got Guts jawdropping that big maw of his one time.” 

Metal’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re telling me that you dumpster-dive. What does this have to do with us repairing the roof?” 

Bomb brought his hands behind his head aloofly. “Nothin’, really, but! I figured that if your place is completely totally empty, this could at least be a good start to filling it with whatever stuff you want.” The bomberbot peeked at the look Metal was giving him and he lifted a hand up in defense. “Hold that look, I’m not done! I also wanted to use this street corner as a rendezvous spot for us, too. This intersection here, South Heart Street and Ruby Ave? It’s a really good center point in this part of the city. There’s this junkyard here to grab good stuff, subways to travel through the city, informational resources like community centers and the library a few streets down, there’s all kinds of food vendors around, shops… the list goes on.” 

“I swear to everything if you try to shove those glizzies at Crash…” Metal started. 

“Oh, I definitely will sometime. Just not today.” Bomb playfully winked at the two. “I’ve got faith in Crash that he’ll see the light where you don’t, haha!” 

“You have faith in me?” Crash asked. 

“Don’t say that around him. You’re setting him up for disappointment.” Metal huffed at Bomb, who only laughed at the cutterbot in return. His ear twitched irritably. “What are you going to do, then? Are you tagging along with us?”

Bomb calmed himself and grinned. “There’s a big tools and materials shop for construction work and home fixups called Pickelman’s not too far from here. I’m gonna go there myself and get you guys set up with a lot of essentials. The good stuff. How’s that sound for you, boss?” 

Metal crossed his arms again. “And we rendezvous back here in about 2-3 hours then. It’s an acceptable plan.” 

“Cool. I'll let you guys have fun, then. Not too much though, we gotta keep the city intact.” Bomb said, heading back to his truck. With an aloof wave, he said his goodbyes and drove off. 

Metal looked over Crash’s way, who stared back at him curiously. The Pipi sat contently on Crash’s shoulder. 

“Do you know where we are?” Crash asked. 

“No idea.” Metal sighed, glancing over at the junkyard. “We can check the junkyard first, I suppose, and then go for a break afterwards.” Humor Bomb's idea for a bit, see if there's any merit to his words. “Are you okay with that?” 

“Fine by me.” Crash said, lifting up a drill again. Metal… still couldn't tell what his drill gestures meant. 

The Wilybots made their way slowly into the junkyard. To say that they felt small here was an understatement. Before them was an entire landscape created out of junk and scrap, the horizon lined with heaps and piles of rusted, forgotten steel. A handful of robots in varying states of decay curiously looked their way as the two began their search for anything of value. Metal wouldn't be lying if he said that it unnerved him a little; some of these robots looked like they have lived here for a long time.

He kept his eyes sharp and perused through pile after pile of junk for anything of personal value. He wondered to himself what he would've wanted. If the warehouse were to become a new Base… what should he even put in it? Bomb and Crash both mentioned separating the interior into multiple rooms, so… what kind of rooms did he want to put in? Personal quarters were a definite Yes, storage rooms, perhaps an area dedicated to maintenance and repairs? He looked over at Crash a few dozen feet away. Maybe he should ask Crash about it. 

He made his way over to the drillbot, who was arms-deep in a pile of metallic junk. He was practically digging through the piles at a much quicker pace than he was. He squatted down next to his kneeling linemate. 

“Hey Crash, how's your dig going? You find anything interesting?” He asked. 

“Dead robots.” Crash answered. “There's a lot of dead and rusty robots here. It's weird to me… that they're just left here.” 

Metal grimaced behind his mask. “So I've noticed. This place feels like a graveyard for robots.” 

“No, I meant like… why don't they just burn them?” Crash clarified. He earned a curious look from the cutterbot. “That's what Heat did. He melted all the broken and scrapped robots into raw materials, and then sent them to you to make new robots out of them. It's better than just leaving them around like garbage.” 

“It would be better, yeah.” Metal agreed. “I didn't take you for someone who cared about that. Repurposing scrap and ‘bots and the like.” 

“I don't,” Crash answered curtly. “This is kind of overkill, though.” 

“Agreed.” Metal said. “‘You find anything else so far?” 

“Found an alive robot in the pile,” Crash answered, “but I might've accidentally scrapped him. He said something to me and I wasn't expecting that so I shoved my drill in his face. Oops.” 

Metal sighed and put a hand on Crash’s shoulder. “You might've done him a favor by this point, honestly. What did he say to you?” 

Crash paused his digging in the pile. “-‘Beware the blue one.’-” 

“Hmm.” Well, that was vague. “It probably doesn't mean anything that matters to us.” Metal mused, before adding, “Where's your Pipi?” 

“I told it to look for something decently big and usable. It'll come back to me when it finds something.” 

“I see. That reminds me.” Metal said, “If we turned our warehouse shelter into a new Base, what kind of rooms would you want?” 

Crash didn't even hesitate on his answer. “A kitchen, for sure.” 

“A kitchen?” 

“Well, yeah! We had a kitchen back at Base, too!” Crash answered. 

“We couldn't digest anything back then. The kitchen was mainly to keep Doctor Wily fed.” Metal said, confused. 

“Just because we couldn't swallow the food back then, doesn't mean it wasn’t fun to taste it.” Crash chirped, smiling to himself. 

“Crash– that food was for Doctor Wily only. It was to keep him healthy and well-fed!” Metal scolded. “Wait– were you the one that was sneaking into the kitchen at night?” 

Crash looked at him suddenly with wide eyes. “How did you know about that.” He said, unusually serious. 

“Bubble told me there was a Robot Master raiding the fridge at night. And I noticed the scratch marks on the doors, too.” 

Crash sharply inhaled and angrily fumed. “That snitching scraphead! ” Metal couldn't help himself though– he bursted out laughing over Crash getting busted. Crash punched the pile of scrap metal with a drill and scowled. 

Metal grinned behind his mask. “Ah, thank you Crash. The mystery's finally been solved, haha.” Crash's scowl grew deeper and he attempted to awkwardly cross his arms. “Yeah, we can have a kitchen in the new Base. And you know those modifications I told you about in Doctor Light’s Lab? One of them allows us to consume organic food now and convert it to fuel. No need to sneak around anymore.” 

Crash fully turned to face Metal. His eyes remained wide and he stared way too hard at Metal– the wine-red Wilybot quickly looked elsewhere. “You're not joking, right? We, we can eat now? Actually really?” 

“I'm not joking. Bomb Man fed me a glizzy last week and it was painfully average–” 

“THIS IS THE BEST NEWS I'VE EVER GOTTEN IN MY LIFE.” Crash suddenly yelled, springing to his feet in record timing. “We should eat something right now! C'mon, Metal! Let's get out of this dump!!” The cutterbot blinked and watched Crash rocket towards the gate. Where did all of this energy come from…? 

Metal slowly got up to his feet and dusted his legs, before following after the orange drillbot. 

The cutterbot did not mind having Crash lead the way. The smaller Wilybot was the one who had the acutely keen sense of smell. If he wasn’t complaining about the smells of the city itself, he was practically tunnel-visioned towards tracking down faint, sweet and savory scents that, admittedly, Metal himself was not able to pick up on at all. It was kind of impressive to him, to be quite honest. 

The two Wilybots landed themselves on a street that was blocked off by various automated police cars. There was no arrest nor investigation taking place, but rather instead, a mass of humans and robots alike swamped the street and multiple vendor stands lined up along the sidewalks. Was there some kind of event happening…? 

This is where Crash’s nose had taken the two of them. Metal eyed Crash: the orange drillbot looked like he was about to start drooling. He sighed and shook his head lightly, before locking his arm around Crash’s. “C’mon, let’s try one of these places.” Thankfully, Bomb had lent Metal some zenny and bolts in the truck, in case something like this happened. 

Metal slowly and carefully guided Crash and himself through the crowds of humans and various robots walking and flying around. The wafting scents of various foods were much stronger now and something he couldn’t possibly ignore now. Admittedly, compared to the glizzy that Bomb got him at first, some of the scents he picked up on made him curious, too. He took note of the signage over the food stands. There was a variety of meals and snacks available here that Metal was entirely unfamiliar with. Gyros, kebabs, some unknown kind of sausage, another unknown kind of sausage, empanadas were among the meats advertised. It only served as a reminder that his knowledge of organic cuisine remained limited, even if he did cook regularly for Doctor Wily. His ears twitched over the sounds of sizzling meats, and he felt a strong tugging at his arm. Crash was going in an entirely different direction. 

He was practically dragged by him to the other side of the street, where… the air smelled much sweeter here. The stands here were loaded up with freshly baked sweets. Funnel cakes, churros, ice cream…. fried ice cream…? Something that looked like candy called cake pops, cotton candy… “Crash, which one do you want to try?” Metal asked his linemate. 

“I… don’t know.” Crash said, wiping at his mouth with his free arm. “Everything looks good and smells good. Like really, really good.” 

“Well, when you’re ready, feel free to drag me over to one of the stands,” Metal joked. He had to admit that some of these sweets looked a little enticing. Not so much the candy, but the freshly baked ones. And maybe the fried ice cream, too. How was that possible? Ice cream is only solid when it’s cold— 

He supposed that he won’t find out anytime soon, not when Crash took his offer literally and began dragging him up to various food stands. Crash stood in front of the funnel cake stand, not caring about cutting in line. He stared at the cakes in question, his expression focused. He seemed like he was carefully thinking about something. After a moment, Crash silently walked away, dragging Metal with him again. He went to the churro stand next… only to shake his head and move on. It happened again and again: another stand rejected, and then another one, and then another. This seemed to repeat for a short time. 

“What’s the matter?” Metal huffed, mildly annoyed that he’s being dragged around like a ragdoll by his linemate. He let go of Crash’s arm. “I thought you said that they all smelled good.” 

Crash seemed frustrated by something, Metal quietly noted. The orange bot's expression had turned sour. “They do smell good, it’s just…” 

“Just…?” Metal quietly offered. 

“I can’t hold any of these foods.” Crash sighed, exasperated and frowning. “And I’m not gonna drop perfectly good food on the ground. Or just shove my face in it. That, it… it makes– makes me feel bad. Like, embarrassed-bad.” 

Metal’s eyes widened in recognition. So that’s why Crash was indecisive… He had no idea that Crash was insecure about that. He had… admittedly just assumed that Crash’s food motivation overrode any worries like that. Crash just continued to surprise him daily. The wine-red bot looked around at the stands again. There had to be some kind of food that Crash could hold and eat, a food that he wouldn’t drop or make a mess out of and feel humiliated. 

His eyes focused on one particular sign and he locked arms with Crash again, this time being the one to drag his linemate over to the stand. “How about this, then?” Metal offered. The two Wilybots stood in front of a stand selling freshly-baked donuts. And in front of the line they just cut. A sharp glare from the cutterbot silenced any humans who tried to protest their line-cutting. 

“I’m not sure…” Crash trailed off hesitantly, staring at the donuts. 

“You’re still craving food, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why don’t you give this one a try then, and if you don’t like it, we’ll go to another stand?” Metal offered. 

“Okay,” Crash said, watching as Metal turned his attention to the cashier taking orders. He watched Metal order a handful of donuts for the both of them together. And to the drillbot’s surprise, once Metal got the box of pastries, he immediately opened the box and grabbed a donut. He grabbed for one of Crash’s drills, and before Crash could protest having his drills touched, Metal slotted a donut over his drill. And then another. And then a third one. 

“There we go. Pastries you can hold.” Metal said. 

Crash processed what he was looking at for a moment. After a few seconds, his eyes widened slowly, darting between Metal and the donuts. “We can digest these now…?” Crash asked quietly. Metal nodded. He looked at the donuts on his drill again and hesitantly, leaned in to try a bite of the sweet stacked at the top. Almost immediately, Crash’s eyes snapped wide open at the taste, and he began to dig into the sweets near-ravenously. 

If Crash likes them that much, then they’ve gotta be pretty good , Metal rationalized to himself, retracting his mask. He grabbed a donut for himself from the box and took a small bite… However, his face slightly scrunched up at the taste. This is really sugary and sweet. It’s overpowering sweetness. He glanced at Crash, who was absolutely obliterating the donuts stacked on his drill. Maybe Crash has a sweet tooth? 

“Come sit with me for a sec.” 

Another box of donuts ordered later, and the two Wilybots sat at an outdoor table not too far from the commotion of the street fair. Crash sat across from Metal, and immediately offered Metal another drill. “Load me up, Metal.” 

Metal couldn’t help himself but chuckle a bit at Crash’s quick change of heart. He stacked more donuts onto Crash’s drill for him to enjoy. He had also gotten himself a cup of water to slowly sip away at, to slowly wash away the lingering taste of too-sweet pastries in his mouth. “So,” he began, “I never got to tell you about the experiment that we’re in, or really anything before we fought and got trapped in the storm.” 

Crash looked at him mid-chewing. Metal took it as a sign he was listening intently. 

“Long story short: Doctor Light is running some kind of experiment with robotic autonomy, and is using us as his first test subjects.” Metal explained. He watched Crash’s expression narrow. “He installed Asimov’s Three Laws in us. We can’t harm humans, even if we wanted to.” He sighed lightly and took a sip of his drink. “He took out our hard-coded loyalty to Doctor Wily. So right now… we’re not really… we’re…” Metal paused and thought more to himself. What… are we now? Crash’s question rang through his mind. He… honestly had no idea what this meant for the two of them now. “If we want to find Doctor Wily and work with him again, I think… we would have to actually make the choice and initiative to seek him out. Doctor Light told me when he brought me online that I don’t have to listen to him, or Doctor Wily, or anybody at all… but. I-I don’t know. I don’t know what’s right or wrong to do anymore. He wants us to make our own decisions but… I don’t know.” He sighed to himself, and resigned to drinking his water. 

Crash chewed at his donut piece thoroughly and swallowed before answering him. “That sounds hard,” he simply said. “I think it’s kind of mean of Doctor Light to just bring us back, mod us without asking first, and then just throw us into the woods and not really do a whole lot else. It makes me kind of angry at him.” 

“I… never really thought of it like that before,” Metal admitted, looking at the box of donuts. “Doctor Light is, well, he’s a Doctor. Even if he’s not our Doctor, it’s hard for a Robot Master to defy or criticize a Doctor, is it not?” 

“Can I get some of your drink?” Crash suddenly asked. 

Metal looked at his drink and grimaced. He did not like sharing his drinks, but… he removed the straw from his cup and picked up the cup. He moved it carefully towards Crash’s mouth. “Hold still. Drink.” Crash did as Metal instructed, carefully sipping the water. Eventually, Crash tapped the table lightly with his free drill, and Metal pulled the cup back. Metal frowned… he drank the whole thing. 

Crash coughed lightly into his drill before speaking up again. “Thanks. Maybe it’s hard for Robot Masters to do that, but we’re in some kind of special situation, I think. If we want to tell Doctor Light that he’s wrong and stupid, I think we could do that.” 

“But… he’s a Doctor. You, you can’t say that to a Doctor…” Metal said quietly. 

“Well, yeah, not to Doctor Wily, at least!” Crash said, lowering his donut-drill a little. “Who knows what he’d do to you if you did.” 

Metal didn’t answer him and instead he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He had a pretty good idea of what would happen if he or any of his linemates disrespected or defied Doctor Wily. 

Crash continued, his voice a little quieter. “Bomb Man told me that sometimes, our Doctors are wrong, and make mistakes and bad decisions. He told me too that it’s okay to tell Doctors when they’re wrong.” 

“Of course he did,” Metal sighed, dragging his fingers down the bridge of his nose tiredly. “Even if what Bomb Man says has some truth to it, that kind of thinking is dangerous, Crash. It… could get you hurt. And if I’m not around if that happens, then… I…” I don’t know if I’d be able to handle being alone again. “I don’t want that to happen to either of us.” 

There were only the two of them, hindered by Asimov’s Three Laws, against an entire world of humans. A world of humans who inherently have more power and authority over robotkind than so-called Robot Masters. What were they, if not toys in a toybox at this point, in the eyes of humanity? 

Maybe if there were more of them… if more of their linemates were active, they could stand a real chance at protecting each other no matter who or what comes their way. 

Crash’s words snapped Metal out of his thoughts for now. “You do gotta admit he’s got a point. But I get it. I’m not gonna do anything that’ll get me killed, I promise. I won’t make you feel all alone again.” 

The wine-red Wilybot relaxed at those words, his ears lowering. “It’s a promise,” he said tiredly, “I’m taking your word for it.”

His orange linemate brought his free drill to his own chest and lightly tapped his chest gem. “Cross my core and hope to die!” 

“Don’t… don’t say that,” Metal said, exasperated. He did get Crash snickering though, and Metal couldn’t help himself but crack a small smirk of his own. 

“There you guys are!” A familiar bomberbot waved over at them from across the street. “I was worried that you guys got, like… Mega-lost in the city. Or the scrap piles.” Crash greeted Bomb with a smile while Metal simply acknowledged him with his eyes. “I see you guys found out about the Fair today– oh shit, are those Monstra Donuts? Can I have some?” 

“No.” was Crash and Metal’s unanimous resounding answer. 

“Man, after all the stuff I got for you, too… tch.” Bomb grumbled, not doing well to hide the smile on his face. “You guys like it so far?” 

“It was okay–” Metal started. 

“I think I have a new favorite food.” Crash chirped. And speaking of chirps… 

The forgotten Pipi companion made its presence known with a shrill cry and divebombed right at Crash again. It squeaked and screamed at Crash, who was taken aback. “H-hey, hey! Relax! I wasn’t going forever!” He said defensively. The Pipi yelled at Crash again. “I was… exploring new avenues of the city with Metal. Consider it Data Collections.” Another squeak from the magenta birdbot. “Oh, I bet you did find something good and wanted to tell me, huh?” He said with a grin. 

The Pipi squealed and chirped at Crash, flying around him in circles. “ Multiple somethings? That’s great, little guy! ”  

“Hey, is it just me, or do you also not understand what the Pipi is saying,” Metal murmured quietly to Bomb, watching the two. 

“No, I’ve got no idea what they’re talking about. I think your buddy Crash can just talk to birds.” Bomb said, cracking another smile. 

Crash turned to face the two, with the magenta Pipi perched nicely on his shoulder. “Hey, so I’ve got great news! My little guy here found some stuff in the junkyard that we can take to the warehouse, I think!” 

“Is your Pipi a parrot-bot or something? That’s a pretty smart little fella,” Bomb commented. 

“Oh, no it’s not. I’ll have to be the judge of what it thinks is a ‘good find’, but I’ve got my high hopes.” Crash said smiling. “Apparently some of it is pretty far into the junkyard.” 

“Yeah, I’ll probably have to take the truck in then and help you out with the loadout. I’ve also got some materials I gotta pick up from more places than Pickelman’s,” Bomb explained, before looking at Crash, “You wanna tag along after?” 

He was met with an eager nod from Crash, and a look from Metal. 

“And where does that leave me afterwards? The invite’s only extended to Crash?” The latter asked.

“Aww, no need to be jealous now. We’ll only be gone for a bit.” Bomb teased the cutterbot. Metal deadpanned at him. 

“Shut up and answer the question.” 

“Well… I sincerely mean no offense to you, Metal Man, but Crash Man here is based off of me and Gutsy’s designs. He’s built for heavy lifting and hard labor. I want him with me for help with loading materials way more than I’d want you. Again, no offense. Maybe you can gather some more intel or resources in the meantime while we’re out?” Bomb sheepishly explained. 

Metal’s ear flicked irritably and he glared at Bomb. He was a perfectly good candidate for hard labor…! Though… Crash was much more physically stronger than he was. And… truthfully, he didn’t really want to do heavy lifting anyways. But he did not like what Bomb was implying. “Hmph. Fine. I can do that just fine…” Metal huffed, frowning behind the mask. “And I’m the best here at getting information anyways.” 

“Actually, I was the Secondary Intelligence Officer and the Data Collections Specialist–” Crash blurted. 

“You’re not helping!” Metal barked, turning around, “I’ll see you at the rendezvous spot in like two hours again!” He barked, making his way further away from the two explosive robots and the junkyard. 

Metal did his best not to angrily trudge through the streets and intersections. Who did Bomb think he is, some kind of weakling? Or a failure? Nobody gets to call him a failure except himself! He huffed through his mask in frustration. 

He was a strong Robot Master. Maybe not strong in the Guts Man-way, but he was formidable and excellent in his own right. He was cunning, agile, precise… he was sharp by all means. He was smarter than Crash and Bomb, and he would prove it. 

He took a deep breath through his mask vents. Okay. Information gathering. He needed to get intel on the whereabouts of his linemates, the current status on Doctor Wily’s condition and whereabouts, and maybe some additional resources like… how-to books. It would help too if he knew how to do things like repair and upgrade their upcoming new Base. 

And… knowing where to get the information would help, too. Where the hell was he right now. 

Scrap. 

Stay calm and collected, Metal, he told himself. He just needed to find a point of reference for his location and he’d be fine. Any kind of landmark would work. He peered around at the buildings before him. Multiple small-scale shops and food markets were cozily set up below multiple stories of apartments. Restaurants were sporadically littered along the streets and avenues. And… nothing particularly stood out to him. None of these small-scale buildings stood out to him, but at the very least, there was the huge building he could spot peeking above the buildings a few blocks away. A huge building could work. 

If one thing rang true about Metal Man, he was indeed quick on his feet. Not nearly as quick as the titular Quick Man, but getting from Point A to Point B within a short time has mostly never been an issue for him before. It only took a matter of minutes for Metal to travel to his destination: a building far larger than any he had ever seen in Monsteropolis so far. It dwarfed even the Robot Museum he saw last week. It looked equally as prestigious as well. He glanced at the plaque-bolted stone name of such a beast of a building. Monsteropolis Greater City Library. Perfect. 

Metal entered the massive building, and suddenly, it was as though he had stepped through a teleporter. The indoor atmosphere silenced any and all loud commotion, every patron having reduced their voices to whispers. Massive concrete pillars, polished tile floors, and ceiling frescos decorated the interior. Bookshelves packed to the brim stood at dizzying heights all around him. It was cool, quiet, spacey, and full of countless informational resources. 

Metal Man had never felt more comfortable in these past two weeks. 

He quickly got to work. Whoever was the primary Librarian in this part of the building seemed to be absent from their desk, so the cutterbot painstakingly went through each section of shelves. The lower-numbered books in their classification systems proved useful; plenty of instructional how-to books. Metal nodded to himself. He was going to learn EVERYTHING he wanted to learn, especially if it meant he could spite that Lightbot. He picked out a few that he was able to reach: most of them on repairs. Silently moving into another section of the great library showed him nothing but more and more bookshelves full of knowledge and literature. It was almost dizzying trying to determine just how much information he had readily available at his fingertips here. Metal quietly exhaled and continued on. 

Within due time, he had found books on construction design and infrastructure and picked a few out. In a huge section dedicated to history, it did take a bit to find it but, lo and behold… a subsection on Doctor Wily’s global Robot Wars. His optics glossed over years of media journalism, coverage, and research done on his missing creator. Doctor Wily had certainly garnered the attention of the world and earned himself dozens of books written about him… but he wondered if this would've satisfied him. He would have made the world acknowledge his scientific prowess, he would have opened the people's eyes through his guiding hand. Through his genius and invention, he was going to bring in a new era of prosperity and order to a world of chaos and strife.  

Metal's hand rested on the spine of one of the larger books. I'm sorry for failing you, Doctor Wily. I should have tried harder. I still believe in your Vision.

He needed to find out Doctor Wily’s current location. He needed a means to contact him. 

He searched the section more thoroughly. Unsurprisingly, there were no books that focused explicitly on the Second Wily War. It seems as though he and his linemates had been lost to time, forgotten by the world they all tried to change. Rusty cogs in the machine. He moved on to the future. Books on the Third War seemed to mainly be from the perspectives of the Light family and various Lightbots, and astronomers. The books covering the Fourth War were mostly translations of interviews and retrospectives from one Doctor Cossack and affiliates. Nothing from the Fifth to Eighth Wars caught his explicit attention. The Ninth War just ended… would it have been too soon for any books to have been created yet? Metal wondered. He did not find or see any books detailing the Ninth War yet. Maybe there would at least be newspaper coverage? Or any recent interviews on video? He needed to check.  

He searched through any other books he could find in the section. The History of Wily Machines, Bassnium: A Wily Element, Machines from Outer Space, A Comprehensive Guide to the Metall Family, Robotics Institute of Technology: The Birthplace of Modern Advanced Robotics… These aren't what he's looking for at all. His fingertips gingerly glided along book cover after book cover… but stopped on one. Unrecognized: A Doctor Albert. W. Wily Autobiography. 

Doctor Wily wrote an autobiography? Metal thought, opening the book to the table of contents. He supposed that having an additional seven more Wars against Doctor Light would definitely be fair enough grounds to warrant Doctor Wily’s perspective on his conquest for worldwide order. It just still feels strange to the cutterbot. It doesn't feel like five years have passed…  

He glossed over the table of contents in the book. Almost immediately, his eyes narrowed. This page is rife with spelling mistakes. He knows that Doctor Wily is exceptionally literate and wields a verbose vocabulary, and the mind to put it to good use. Something isn't right. He flipped to a random page to read an excerpt. He… admittedly wasn't sure what he was even looking at. Some of the sentences here were flat-out incomprehensible. 

“I would not recommend that book to take. It was written with generative AI.” A voice spoke in a light whisper near him. Metal nearly jumped out of his ceratanium body at the sudden voice and backed up against the opposite-facing bookshelf. His eyes immediately darted to and locked onto the source of the voice. 

The source standing before him, or rather, floating before him, was a Robot Master he had never seen before. She seemed too humanoid not to be. She was adorned in near-black armor that resembled some kind of long-sleeved dress or robe, with decorative flourishes of mahogany and copper. A matching helmet protected pale skin and brown pupils. Her torso armor possessed some kind of small LCD display screen, and a red chest gem. She looked to carry herself with grace and dignity. 

“A-and you are?” Metal said, working to quickly compose himself. 

“I am DLDN-00K Keeper Woman. I am the Head Librarian and Archivist of this library,” she introduced herself formally, standing up straight (or… floating up straight?). 

“DLDN…?” Metal asked quietly. 

“Doctor Light Domestic Number. I was not built as a tool of war, nor for industrial servitude,” she explained. “I was commissioned to work in this Library and keep it well-maintained. And to assist patrons such as yourself.” 

“I-I don't… I'm not in need of assistance. I am just fine with my AI book.” Metal said defensively. 

“I disagree.” Keeper Woman said, lowering herself closer to ground to get closer to Metal’s eye level. Or attempt to, at least. She was taller than him, regardless. “No sensible robot would actively pick out a book like this without reason.” She snatched the book out of Metal’s hand and returned it to its proper spot on the bookshelf. “You are looking for information on the elusive Doctor Wily, correct?” 

Metal didn't answer, simply staring at her instead with widened eyes. 

“Your silence speaks volumes, you know. And there is a strict policy on speaking volume here.” She said as she glided her fingers over the book selection. Was that supposed to be a joke…? Her fingers came to a stop and she let out a silent exhale. “Hm. Somebody else must have taken the book I was looking for. No matter.” She turned to face him again, her eyes boring into his. With an open palm presented to him, Energy collected and glowed in the palm of her hand for a moment, before she materialized something. She passed it to him. 

It was a DVD casing. There was no cover art nor label determining what its contents inside could even be. The cutterbot flipped the casing over. Nothing on the back either. 

“It is what coverage of the Ninth Wily War I could find for you, compiled onto a blank disc for your viewing.” 

“You were watching me.” Metal cautioned, looking back at her with a sharpened glare. 

“I watch everyone within this establishment. I can see everyone and everything at all times, for maximum efficiency.” The librarian bot explained, rather neutrally too for someone who just admitted to majorly invading his privacy. 

Metal exhaled through his mask and handed the DVD back to her. “I don't have any way of watching this right now. But. Uh. Your, uh, gesture is appreciated.” He said quietly. 

“Are you busy today? We have computers and monitors available for our patrons.” She asked. 

“Yes. I can't stay here for too long.” He answered. 

She teleported the DVD case to who knows where. She wore what almost looked like a frown on her face. “It is so. I will keep this disc available for you if you return here, then.” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Metal murmured, picking up his previous picks his earlier panic left on the floor. 

“May I at least recommend another book to you that may provide some information?” Keeper Woman offered. Not waiting for an answer, she materialized another object in her palm. It was a decently sized book. She handed it to the cutterbot, who looked it over. Advanced Robotics Design Philosophy, Volume II: Doctor Wily Numbers (10th Edition).  

Metal glossed over the book briefly. His eyes looked over photographs and illustrations of Robot Masters he had never seen before with great curiosity. Wordlessly, he closed the book and added it to his stack of books. 

“I am glad I could be of help.” Keeper nodded, before producing a tablet from one of her armored compartments. “There is just one more thing I must address. I need a name and some general information about you so you may freely borrow these books.” 

Metal sighed lightly and took the tablet from her. He hastily scribbled down a fake name and some basic, general information about himself on the digital New Patron form, before handing it back to her. 

Keeper Woman briefly looked over the information and her mouth twitched upwards for a second. “Understood and registered. I thank you for your patience, Blade Man. I will generate a library card for you when you next arrive.” She floated a bit aways from him, and put the tablet away. Metal collected his books together. “Enjoy the rest of your day, and good luck with your future name change.” 

With an awkward wave goodbye, Metal hastily turned the corner at the end of the bookshelf and beelined straight towards the main exit of the library. That Lightbot is creepy…  

… 

Through multiple long-distance connections, perspectives, and points of view, said Lightbot in question remained where she was, but watched Metal exit the library either way with his stacked books in tow. She slowly floated back towards the front reception desk of the great library, before a handful of alerts and notifications of guest queries filled her digital mind. She queued them up to take care of in a moment. She gazed out after the front entrance. 

“DWN-009 Metal Man…” She murmured to herself. “Fascinating.” 

It didn't take long for the Wilybot to return back to his agreed rendezvous spot. South Heart Street and Ruby Avenue. It looked like Crash and Bomb hadn't returned from their tasks yet… He let out a sigh and carefully placed the stack of books next to him, and leaned against the steel barrier surrounding the junkyard. 

He made– no, he and Crash both made progress today. Even if it was just getting some books to educate himself and materials to fix the roof with. They were going to establish a new Base for themselves. They were going to find their linemates. They were doing something that mattered, no matter how it felt to him at the moment. It matters, it matters. They had to continue on, …even if Doctor Wily wasn't here to guide them. Metal shivered. 

He was going to continue on. If not for Doctor Wily, then for Crash, at his request. He took slow breaths through his mask vents. They said that they were going to figure it out. He had to trust in himself and give it time. He had to trust in Crash. Maybe even trust in Bomb, too, but that was kind of pushing it. He… he didn't have to figure this out all by himself anymore. He wasn't alone anymore. 

Eventually, he watched as the familiar obnoxious truck of Bomb Man’s pulled up to the intersection of their rendezvous spot. Metal gathered his things and stood up, before waving them over to him. Crash Man came barreling out of the truck with his Pipi and almost collided into Metal from how eagerly he ran to the cutterbot. Even though he was nearly knocked over, Metal couldn't help but relax in their presence. Yeah… yeah, he wasn't alone anymore.

Chapter Text

Minutes and hours blended into each other. Storm clouds thundered above, warning them all of their time limit. Time ticked by as he worked tirelessly to beat the clock. If any of them slowed down their momentum, their punishment would most certainly come wet, soggy, and cold. 

And while he himself didn't terribly mind that, he knew it was still ultimately counterproductive to their goal list. The hurry back to shelter was quick, even if everything was currently dry. They knew that wouldn't last forever, so they needed to get to work right away. 

Bomb Man really did spoil the two of them, but he couldn't be more grateful towards the bomberbot. He got them all kinds of tools of all different sizes, not to mention the raw materials haul was pretty sizable as well. Crash Man helped carry everything just outside their soon-to-be new Base, before his linemate got to quick work on the interior with what cleaning supplies Bomb brought. Crash did what he could to help out and contribute, to feel helpful truthfully. As he worked, he also couldn't help but catch glimpses of the wine-red Wilybot as well. 

It was no wonder that Metal Man was apparently the Wilybot who maintained Wily Fortress II in such good condition. He was fast and he worked hard. It didn't take long at all before the previous moldy smell was scraped, cleaned, and scrubbed away, instead replaced with much nicer chemical scents. Some hours later that he didn't count, the floor and walls of the warehouse actually looked clean. Crash couldn't help but find it impressive, actually: how much the three of them could change in a matter of days. 

Bomb Man was measuring the dimensions of the building, and setting up materials and ladders to patch the roof up. With some help from the two of them, Crash actually managed to climb up to the roof without caving more of it in! He took that as a win in his book. Every little victory mattered to Crash, as he didn't get them very often. 

Crash grinned to himself and looked over at his progenitor. “Hey Bomb!” He called out to the Lightbot, who looked his way. “You know, I'm surprised that none of us fell through the roof yet, but that's honestly great for us. Last time, I tried to get on the roof,” Crash took a few steps towards Bomb… only for said roof to further cave in. “...I took a pretty nasty faaAAAAAAAHHH-!!” Crash Man shrieked as he suddenly plummeted to ground level again. 

Sight and sound turned hazy and unclear for a few moments. He heard someone's voice saying something– and he uncoiled himself through the sudden pain and shock of landing on his back, to try to focus. He blinked and recalibrated his optics– the sight of Metal and Bomb both hovering over him came into crisp view. 

“Crash, are you okay?” Metal asked, looking concerned. He wasn't sure where to put his hands. 

“Dude, please don't tell me you're busted or broken, any.” Bomb said, scratching the back of his head.  

Crash groaned and slowly sat up. “I'm fine, I'm okay. I just took another nasty fall, like I was saying.” He said quietly. Well, that sucked. Maybe I spoke too soon.  

Metal held his hand out for the drillbot to take. He eyed the hand for a moment, hesitant… before ultimately giving Metal his drill. With surprising strength again, Crash was pulled up and onto his feet. “Well, that’s relieving. No errors on your end, right?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m good.” Crash reiterated. 

“Good grief, the entire roof looks worn down from down here.” Bomb commented, peering up at the ceiling and broken skylight. “The decking’s rotting away, and you’re practically gonna get insulation falling on your heads. Okay... okay, yeah no we’re probably gonna need to replace this whole thing if y’all wanna stay here for a longer while.” He thought aloud, hand on his chin. “Okay. I’m cooking a new plan for this. We’re gonna have to take apart the roof and fully replace it layer by layer, but we’ll have to move fast if we’re gonna beat the weather.” He faced his attention to the wine-red cutterbot. “Metal Man, ‘you think you can help me out with this?” 

“Right after I just finished the floor, too…” Metal grumbled, before giving a short nod to Bomb. “Yeah. What do we need to do?” 

“We need to take apart the roof piece by piece before we rebuild both up, starting with the subdecking. You see those steel beams above us that shape the frame of the roof?” Bomb explained, pointing up. Both Wilybots glanced up. “We’re starting on top of those. Let’s get back to the roof, Metal.” 

“Hey, uh, what do I get to do?” Crash asked. 

He caught the Lightbot with some kind of guilty expression for a moment. “I’m not sure if you’re able to actually stay up on the roof in the condition that it’s in right now, so do you think you can sit tight until we start putting it back together?” Bomb Man admitted sheepishly. 

Oh. They don’t need him right now. You’re not useful to anyone right now. “Oh, uh, okay then. Uh, let me know when you do need me.” 

Crash watched as Bomb and Metal quickly made their way back outside and back up the long ladder to the dilapidated roofing. He took a look around the abandoned warehouse. It was empty and full of nothing, other than what little furniture they were able to rescue from the junkyard earlier. Admittedly, a lot of the findings that his new (or… old?) Pipi companion discovered didn’t amount to anything that he considered useful for indoor furnishings. Or… well… It wasn’t like he had a lot of personal preferences when it came to this stuff. He wasn’t necessarily given much to work with at old Base, nor his Tower. There wasn’t a lot he could’ve made good use out of, either. Those were meant for robots and humans who were lucky enough to be made with hands. 

But his Pipi finding large… things, that were mostly broken? Even Crash knew that not much could be done with that. At least not right now. They needed some ‘use right now’ stuff, not ‘fix later’ stuff, he rationalized in his mind. That’s what happens when you put a bigger task like that on a subordinate, he reprimanded himself. He could’ve helped out his little buddy before. But… Okay. But trying new food and actually getting to eat it was too good to pass up. He absolutely needed to test it out. He doesn’t regret it, he couldn’t possibly after getting to try those tasty donuts. 

Leaving his sole remaining Pipi alone, though…  

‘That’s no way to treat your subordinates, Crash. I don’t know where you got the idea from, but… they deserve patience and kindness like any of us Robot Masters, don’t you think? Otherwise, they’re just going to break apart, and we’ll get scolded by Doctor Wily again.’ 

He shook away the memory. Why did he have to remember that now…? Though, Flash did have a point. His subordinates always were particularly loyal to the timestopping robot. And he supposed that while he himself did have favorites, namely with his Pipis, he wasn’t nearly as nice to the Fly Boys or the lone Shotman. 

And… after all, if any of them ever broke apart back then, he could just get new ones. It would’ve been like nothing ever happened. 

Crash frowned to no one in particular. He glanced up at the gaping holes in the ceiling again: it looked like Metal and Bomb were ready to send the remainder of the roof crumbling down. He made his way outside to avoid the mess that would surely fall on his head.  

He looked up at the dark clouds. The forest still smelled wet. He briefly wondered where his Pipi had gone off to. If anything, he should keep a better eye on his only subordinate now. That, and the little guy DID find a small few good things. A worn-down, unwanted couch with a game-changing secret: it could transform into a makeshift bed, complete with a mattress and everything. That’s a huge upgrade from the pallets, and another win for him, at least. There was also a swivelly spinny-type chair that mostly worked; it could replace the broken one inside. They’re definitely finds that are worthy of some praise to the little guy. 

He looked around once, then twice, to try and find his small flying buddy. After that didn’t work, Crash took a deep breath, and then whistled as loud as he could. It was the same whistle that he used to get the attention of the Pipis around his Tower. …He just hoped that this Pipi was nearby enough to hear his call. Fortunately for him, he didn’t need to wait to find out. He heard the telltale call of the magenta birdbot that many Pipis shared. They always tried to mimic him.

“Hey!” Crash chirped himself, and held out a forearm for the incoming birdbot. The magenta Pipi perched itself upon it and let out a greeting chirp. He smiled at the little ‘bot, and almost immediately, his cognitive programs sensed a communication ping incoming from the little one. He internally accepted the incoming ping and retrieved the message that followed.

[ Tasks remaining: None. Mission objective: None. Remaining in Standby Mode until next assignment. Query: Task update ? ] 

“Oh, no, no,” Crash said to the Pipi. “I didn’t call you over to give you new orders. I just… wanted to know where you were.” He admitted, before adding on, “I haven’t really seen you ever since we got back.” He was met with another chirp, and another message. 

[ Log update 17: “Master’s Assignment: assisting Enemy – DLN-006. Robot Master DWN-009 tasked with assisting DLN-006.” Query: Master’s current location deviates from assignment worksite. Exception to assignment given ? ] 

Crash frowned and sighed. “Yeah… They don’t really need me for the roof, after all. I think Bomb Man just wanted someone to carry things for him earlier.” He admitted. The Pipi tilted its entire body to look up at him with questioning eyes. It didn’t say anything further. “Do you think you can just stay with me for now?” 

[ Assignment received & added to Tasks. Task: Remain at Master’s location until next assignment. ]  

The orange drillbot tried his best not to let the creeping waves of dejection overcome his emotions. With his Pipi perched on him, he made his way over to that nasty hill he fell over last week. Clambering up carefully, he sat at the top and gazed at the off-white concrete building before him. With the work that Metal and Bomb were going to be busy with, and how they were toiling away into the night, he wasn’t going to go into sleep mode terribly easily. He was simply going to be alone with his thoughts. 

Well… not exactly alone? He did have his Pipi with him. But… it was just a Pipi. It’s not the same as a Robot Master. He didn’t understand why Flash was so attached to his subordinates back then. He didn’t get it at all. And with those lasers Quick experimented with, he had no need for almost any subordinates. Crash thought further… Wood was also quite kind to his subordinates, too, for the short time that he was active. Was he missing something? What was he missing? 

Maybe you’re just broken.  

Crash shook his head suddenly, startling the perched birdbot. He would’ve rested his face against his hand, if his hands weren’t gigantic drills. He sensed another incoming message. 

[ Query: Is Master dissatisfied? ]  

Crash sighed, hunching over a little. “Yeah,” he said dejectedly, before his eyes widened. “Wait, yeah. How did you…” 

He trailed off and stared at the birdbot, who returned the stare right back. He doesn't remember the Pipis at his Tower being so… inquisitive. And not to mention, this Pipi looks and behaves slightly differently, too. Metal never told him too many details about this Pipi… did Doctor Light modify this one, too? “That reminds me, too. How come you call me Master and not DWN-013?” 

The Pipi stared at him, processing his words for a moment. It paused, opened its mouth slightly, before clicking it shut and letting out a series of chirps. 

[ Databanks File accessed. “Entity Registered: DWN-013. Registered names: Crash Man, The Destroyer, Master. Unit PIPI SV-T Model 3 #302 assigned to Master.” Query: Request to change name preference ? ] 

Admittedly, he couldn't help himself but let out a little laugh at that. He didn't think anyone else heard him when he said that. “No, no, it's fine. I was just curious, that's all.” 

The Pipi chirped in affirmation, before Crash heard a strange clicking from it. It seemed to be processing something. Another message was coming through… and Crash's eyes widened in surprise. 

[ No changes saved to File: DWN-013. Log update 18: Name of Master: Crash Man. Unit PIPI #302 Name Registry: Unknown. Query: Register name to Unit PIPI #302 ? ] 

The drillbot blinked wide-eyed at the birdbot. “You… want a name?” He asked quietly. The Pipi didn't answer him and simply stared, tilting its rotund body at him to emulate a bird cocking its head. He supposed that, because of whichever changes were made to this Pipi during repairs, it was definitely unique compared to the rest. It certainly looked the part… Its pink color, bent dorsal fin, unorthodox legs, the mismatched patch on its back… And its more curious, responsive behavior, too. 

Crash thought hard for a moment, before going with his whims. “Okay. How about I name you… PIPiT? Do you like that name?” 

The Pipi responded with a song-like tweet and trill. 

[ Name Registered. Name of Unit PIPI #302: PIPiT. ] 

Crash couldn't help but smile down at the birdbot. “I'm glad you like it!” Admittedly, he didn't consider himself a creative namer of things, but he felt proud of this one. It felt clever and witty enough. Maybe it would've given Wood a laugh. Or Metal. He wondered… did any of his linemates ever name their subordinates? Did Flash do that? He supposed that he'd have to ask him, if they ever get him online again. 

Speaking of Metal… Crash brought up his other forearm to PIPiT and opened up the panel on the inner side. Underneath the sliding panel were two features: the manual detonation button for his Crash Bombers, and a series of ports for various connections. “Hey, PIPiT,” He asked. He had the bird's immediate attention. “Do you want to link up with me?” 

The birdbot squeaked and chirped at him. He didn't need a comms ping to know that PIPiT was in. With a gentle motion from his forearm to nudge it, the Pipi hopped and flapped from one arm to the other. Without hesitation, it planted its feet atop of one of the connector ports, and proceeded to temporarily connect itself to the Robot Master. Crash sensed a ping from his own internal systems this time. 

[ (1) direct connection(s) found. Name of Device: Unit PIPI #302. Request for Linking access. Accept? Yes/No ] 

Crash accepted the request and gave his permissions. Almost immediately, his cognitive programs sprinkled his sight with a list of permissions granted and accessed. A whole influx of received data washed over his cognitive programs next, something that Crash was used to, albeit at a much larger, and somewhat overwhelming scale. Linking up with one Pipi was much more manageable and tolerable than hundreds at once. He briefly recalled spending hours at a time sitting motionlessly at his Tower, receiving recordings and data from his army of surveillance-type Pipis. 

[ Subordinate Link fully established. ] 

There we go. Now I won't have to worry about you getting lost anytime soon. PIPiT seemed happy about the linking, too, and gave a happy chirp to the drillbot. It disconnected itself from Crash’s arm ports. 

The orange ‘bot smiled at his now-synced companion. “So, how about a test drive? ‘Mind if I borrow your eyes?” 

Immediately, another ping was received in Crash’s mind, and he was given access to what he wanted. He exhaled and closed his eyes. 

… 

When he opened his eyes again, he saw himself staring right back at him. 

The sight was never not surprising to Crash Man. He didn't have luxuries like mirrors back at old Base, and most of the time, he didn't really think about how or what he looked like. But now, for the first time in over five years, he could finally take a good look at himself since his fight with Megaman. He watched himself grow wide-eyed at him, or rather, PIPiT, as he processed his emotions. He looked shiny and new… but… something felt off. Something didn't exactly look right, but he wasn't able to tell what. …Gah, he could worry about it later! It's been way too long since he had last ‘been’ a Pipi, and he was impatient. “Let's go check on Metal and Bomb and see how they're holding up,” he watched himself say. 

His (PIPiT's) body let out another affirmative chirp and, as if he were light as a feather, he watched PIPiT ascend into the air. He could hear the wind from the birdbot's perspective, and the birdbot's wings flapping to gain altitude. Soon enough, with ease, it flew to the top of the warehouse. Together, he and PIPiT caught sight of the Wilybot and Lightbot working in tandem. Metal was taking apart the remainder of the old roof and throwing overboard the old, rotten wood decking. Bomb Man was quickly replacing and installing the first layer of the new roof with metal sheets of some sort. Neither of them noticed PIPiT. 

They're both really focused on their work. It's best not to disturb them now. Crash sighed silently and he pinged PIPiT with an order to return to him. Without a chirp or call, the lesser subordinate obliged its Master and returned to Crash’s side. At the very least, scouting both this area and the city more thoroughly will be way easier now. Not just that, but also… …it'd be nice to ‘fly around’ again. He knew it just wasn't the same as actually flying with his own body, but… a Robot Master could pretend, at least. 

With another silent command given, PIPiT took itself and its master to the skies once more. 

“Crash.” 

The wind was howling. Before him, he gazed upon the city below, lit up and twinkling like an electric starry night. At eye level, he watched the sky brighten and change color slowly. 

“Crash.” 

Nooo, not yet… the sun's about to rise. 

“DWN-013 Crash Man.” 

“I-I'm online, I'm here-!” Crash spluttered at being fullnamed. He forcefully switched perspectives back to his own body, and rapidly blinked as he recalibrated his own optics. Below him, at the bottom of the hill, his linemate stood there, arms crossed and ear twitching. “W-what's up?” 

Metal sighed, his ears flattening a little. It vaguely reminded Crash of an annoyed animal, like a cat, maybe. “I wanted to check on you. You've been here for a while now, still as a statue… part of me was worried you went offline.” 

“Was I still like a statue…?” Crash asked. Metal was worried about me? That can't be right. “I-I. Uh. Sorry about that. I– er, PIPiT's in Monsteropolis right now, doing some scouting.” He sheepishly explained. 

Metal gave him a look for a moment, before his ears perked up again. He could tell the cutterbot was raising an eyebrow at him underneath his masked helm. “Pipit?” 

“That's the name I gave my Pipi tonight!” Crash said, offering a smile down at the cutterbot. “Also, it's pronounced ‘PIPiT’.” 

Metal's eyes narrowed. “How are you saying that with your mouth?” 

Crash cocked his head at Metal curiously. “PIPiT.” He reiterated. It was pretty easy, really. To himself, at least. 

Metal gave him another look. 

Crash glanced away for a moment, deciding to change the subject. “How's the roof coming along, by the way?”

“We're stopping for now, since Bomb Man needs more materials for the final layer. But it's almost finished. Once we got that initial layer down, putting down the rest went pretty fast. Bomb needs to head back to Monsteropolis again.” Metal explained. “Your Pipi is already in the city? Scouting for what?” 

Crash slowly scooted himself closer to the hill’s drop, before sliding down on his feet, albeit unsteadily. He stood up straight and looked up at his dust-covered linemate. “Well,” he started, “Back before we all fought Megaman, I used to use my Pipis to scout out the surrounding towns and cities in this region. I used to have them locate interesting or important spots for Doctor Wily, and wherever there were sightings of Megaman and Doctor Light, too. I always had my ‘eyes’ wherever Doctor Wily wanted them to be.” 

Metal, despite being masked, looked as though something dawned on him. “Is that why you ordered so many Pipis from me?” He asked. 

“I didn’t think it was a terrible lot…” Crash murmured. 

“Hundreds of Pipis, Crash. For reference, Air and Wood only had a couple dozen of them at their stations. I made every single Pipi in our army.” Metal snarked. “What could you have even done with so many at once?” 

Oh. Oh… Maybe that was a lot. Crash could feel his own face flush with warm embarrassment. “Well… most of them were Surveillance-types… so I had them linked up and synced with me.” 

Metal gawked at him from behind the mask. “All of them at once? Wouldn’t that cause significant strain and lag on your own cognitive systems?” 

Crash felt more embarrassment creep through his systems and across his freckled face. “W-well, yeah, but…! I-I never overheated from it! My Tower was airy and cool, even in the summer.” He said defensively. 

“I don’t understand you at all.” Metal lightly sighed. Something about those words… stung. Crash avoided the cutterbot’s eyes and looked down at the ground. His linemate continued on. “Let’s get back to the warehouse. I bet that Bomb Man is probably going to want us to tag along with him.” With that, Metal turned towards the building, and Crash trailed slowly behind him. 

“Okay.” Was all Crash said behind him. 

The sun had risen again. Not like Crash Man was able to see it, though. He missed it, by sitting in the back of a noisy truck filled almost to the brim with various hand and power construction tools. Sitting against the wall, he slowly brought his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around himself. 

I don’t understand you at all.  

Of course Metal didn’t understand him. Nobody did, if he was honest with himself. Not Metal, not his brother Quick, not even Doctor Wily. Especially not Doctor Wily. It always confused him... Why would Doctor Wily ever build a robot like me if he was just gonna get angry anyways?  

It always frustrated him. 

If anything, he didn’t understand his linemates nor his creator. Why would Doctor Wily build him, let alone any of his linemates and call some of them masterpieces if he was just going to throw them all away anyways? 

Was he just as disposable as his broken subordinates? 

Was he just as unimportant as a broken subordinate? Was he just as worthless ?  

Crash Man curled in further on himself. He grit his teeth and tried to control his bubbling emotions. 

And control them for what, anyways? Why did he even bother trying to get better when nothing he ever tried before worked at getting the others to understand him, to like him? They were all going to talk to him like they were stepping around landmines, anyways. Why wouldn’t they? He thought bitterly. There’s something wrong with you. 

“I’m not…” Crash whispered, his breaths having turned shaky. “...not broken.” Something wasn’t just bubbling deep within him, it was boiling . He needed to keep it together. He had to at least try to keep it together. Doctor Wily wasn’t around to fix him, to fix the others, he needed not to– 

He was interrupted by the truck sharply turning and throwing Crash against one of the walls. Tools clattered and spilled on top of him. Crash’s breath turned erratic. Keep it together. Keep it together, Crash. You have to. Ignore the sounds. You need relief. Ignore the sounds. You need RELIEF. 

Another turn, followed immediately by a sudden cacophony of power tools and materials falling over each other, falling over him.  

And he felt the all-familiar snap . 

Steam pushed out from his nostrils and body vents. 

He didn’t care about the noises anymore; not of the Crash Bomber going off, not of the backdoor of the truck blasting onto the street and some car. Not of the power tools haphazardly flying out in all different directions. He had hopped out into the city streets, and cleared a path before him with sheer intimidation alone. He ignored the humans screaming and scrambling for shelter. He ignored the robots who called after him. 

He had to ignore his linemate shouting his name. He needed to get away. He needed relief. 

His stomps turned into a run, and the robot chasing him also broke into a run. He felt a hand grab him, and without looking, Crash Man elbowed him harshly. He needed to get away. He needed to get away. He couldn’t face Metal like this.  

Where was PIPiT? He reconnected with his subordinate and requested its location. Immediately, he had received its location and he swiftly moved in towards his only active Pipi. He bent his knees for a second, and launched himself onto the roof of a shorter, older building. To his surprise, he did not cause the roof to cave in. He tunnel-visioned on getting to his Pipi, he ignored the cutterbot chasing and shouting after him. He leapt again, onto another building rooftop. He just needed to get to PIPiT. He just needed to get to PIPiT. 

Another leap. Another building. He almost felt like he was back on his Tower again. Almost. 

He heard the telltale call of his Pipi. It was one rooftop over from where he was. He closed the distance between his birdbot and himself. 

Finally. He scrambled over to PIPiT and clumsily scooped up the birdbot into his arms. It chirped at him but he ignored the internal ping within his mind. He just needed… he just… he had his Pipi again. Blowing up Bomb Man’s truck didn’t help, finding PIPiT again didn’t help. Why isn't it helping? Why can’t I get relief? Crash begged internally. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes. 

And there was still another problem at hand too, standing some 10 or so feet away from him. 

Metal. 

He finally was able to register what his linemate was saying. “Crash!” Metal called to him. “Crash, please… please, stop running. Just talk to me–” 

“ GET AWAY FROM ME!” The drillbot tried to say normally, but erupted out as a scream instead. He held PIPiT in one arm and pointed a drill at Metal in warning. The cutterbot stared at him in… concern? Alarm? He didn’t know anymore. It was getting hard to see past the optic cleaner anyways. 

“Crash…” He heard again. Crash couldn’t stop a few tears from flowing down his face. Hell, he couldn’t even wipe them away if he wanted to. He couldn’t do anything. And now Metal is probably angry at him, too. 

“Why did you follow me?” The drillbot barked at Metal. 

Metal didn’t answer him. And somehow that made him even more upset. 

“Are you gonna yell at me?! Huh?” 

Amidst the wind and his own tears, he heard Metal’s quiet voice. “I don’t even know what’s gotten you so upset, Crash.” 

“Of course, you wouldn’t.” Crash bitterly said through grit teeth. “You wouldn’t understand at all.” 

The cutterbot stiffened and paused on the other side of the rooftop, wide-eyed. He seemed to stop for a moment, before his eyes widened with that same look from earlier. “You’re right. I don’t understand.” Crash blinked away tears and frowned miserably. “But… I… I want to learn. I want to understand you better.” 

Crash looked away from Metal and growled quieter now. “You don’t mean that.” 

Perhaps, in an act of boldness, the cutterbot took a step forward. “I do. I sincerely do.” 

Crash peeked at him for a moment, eyes wide and wet, and he took an anxious step back from Metal. He stepped further away from the cutterbot. He’s lying. He has to be. He’s… he’s Doctor Wily’s masterpiece. He wouldn’t care about his failures. He wouldn’t care about him.  

Who would? 

His back suddenly touched the edge of the rooftop and without thinking, Crash looked over the side of the building and– 

Oh… this building is tall tall tall tall Tall Tall Tall Fall Fall Fall FALL FALL FALL 

- - - - - 

Explosions rang all around him. It was the familiar booms of his own Crash Bombers as he frantically aimed at the Blue Bomber from whichever angle he could. Whatever could give him the upper hand in this life-or-death moment. Win or die. He needed to win. This is what he was built for.  

His Tower rattled and trembled from the force of his own Special Weapon. It wasn’t going to remain stable for much longer. Any second now, and hopefully, his Plan B would successfully crush and destroy Megaman permanently. He tried as best as he could to speed up the kid’s destruction, but his opponent was nimble, and quick to dodge his powerful bombs. Crash growled and screamed in frustration. He fired a spread shot of Crash Bombers in an attempt to corner him. 

Megaman swapped his weapon out, and Crash barely had any time to register what happened next. 

Violent and torrential winds blasted out from Megaman and caused the entire Tower to howl in protest. But Crash had almost no time to react, as he helplessly watched his own bombs get caught in the sudden winds, and blast a gaping hole in the wall of his battle arena. The raging gusts and winds picked up its force, and soon, not even the heavy Crash Man could withstand its power. 

He desperately tried to snag himself onto anything to keep himself from sliding or blowing out of his Tower, but he couldn’t grab onto a single thing with his drills. 

The sensation of falling overloaded his senses and mind, and Crash Man shrieked as he fell from the sky. He was falling, falling, falling falling falling falling falling 

- - - - -

“Crash…! Crash, Crash, you’re hyperventilating.” He heard Metal’s voice through the distant screams of the memory. 

The drillbot had no idea he was hyperventilating. He had no idea he was shaking and crying. He had no idea where he even was. 

Metal Man was in front of him, his hands gently on his upper arms. His linemate. Right. Metal. 

“I’m–” Crash tried to speak but his voice came out in ugly, labored breaths. His internal fans were as loud as they could get. “I’m falling. I was falling. I was falling.” He wheezed. 

“Falling…?” Metal questioned, his voice quiet and concerned. His ears were lowered and flattened back. 

Crash nodded and his breath hitched. “F-falling so much, just now. A-air, Air Shooter. Falling out of my Tower.” 

The cutterbot’s eyes widened. Some sorts of puzzle pieces in Metal Man’s mind seemed to click together. He let go of Crash’s arms but stayed close by. His mask retracted and he spoke softly. “Were you remembering your fight just now…?” He asked. He seemed to have endless patience for the drillbot. 

The orange Wilybot nodded and tears spilled down his cheeks again. He lifted his arms slowly, and Metal accepted the invitation without hesitation, leaning in to embrace Crash. “It was happening again. I was falling again. I was falling for so long.” He cried into Metal’s shoulder. His cries soon deepened into fearful sobs as the cutterbot held him close. 

The two Wilybots hugged for a long while. Metal remained quiet as Crash cried and feebly tried to hold onto the cutterbot. This is the second time now that Metal had been so… nice to him when he was upset. The second time he hugged and held him when he cried. Truthfully, he didn’t expect Metal to be able to be so nice to someone like him. But… maybe he didn’t understand Metal, either. 

He sniffled as his tears slowly calmed down. He reluctantly let go of Metal and sat down next to him. The wine-red bot looked over his way. 

“...How are you feeling now?” He asked quietly. Crash didn’t like that he could tell Metal was hesitant. It… made him more angry deep down– angry at himself.

“I’m better…ish,” Crash answered honestly. “I’m. I’m sorry, f-for being such a mess.” He added, as more tears welled up. 

“...I think it’s okay. To be a mess, I mean.” Metal said quietly. “I’m… kind of a mess, too.” 

“I don’t see it,” Crash admitted, before sniffling again, and leaning his head against Metal’s shoulder. “You always seem so… flawless. Like you were designed perfectly. You’re nothing like me at all.” 

“I’m not perfect. Trust me, I’m really, really not perfect at all. I’m…” Metal took a deeper breath. “I’m a failure.” He near-whispered, slowly hugging his knees to his chest. 

“...that makes two of us.” Crash quietly said. Metal glanced his way with saddened eyes. “...I don’t know why Doctor Wily even built me in the first place. He didn’t like me back then. I don’t like me either. Everybody always treated and talked to me like I’m just some ticking time bomb. Hah… I guess it’s fitting, at least.” 

Metal slowly looked up at the sky. “If… if I made you feel like that too, then I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.” 

Crash quieted himself, and attempted to wipe away some of his welling tears. He ended up just poking Metal with his drill instead. The cutterbot looked at him and wordlessly, raised a hand to Crash’s face slowly. “May I?” He asked. 

“Mm.” He affirmed. 

He held still as he felt Metal’s cold hand gently catch and wipe his tears away. The gesture was… nice. It was nice to finally get some relief after his vision had been blurry for a while. After his head had been hurting from the turmoil deep within himself. This was nice. 

“To be honest,” Crash said quietly, “Everyone at old Base made me feel that way.” He paused, before adding on, “I ordered a lot of Pipis from your Factory because I really like them. They also helped me not feel so alone all the time.” He could feel Metal’s eyes looking at him. “I really like PIPiT. It’s different from the other Pipis I had at my Tower.” 

There was a pause between the two Wilybots. And then, Crash felt Metal very slowly lean his head against his. “I’m glad.” He said softly. “I really like Pipis, too. I’m sorry for getting on your case before. I just didn’t know why you wanted so many. I don’t know a lot about you or… or anyone, really.” 

“You were always hanging out with Air, though,” Crash commented quietly. 

“Air was the sole exception. He was my best friend.” Metal said. “He was the only one in our whole line that I felt like I really knew.” 

“That makes sense,” Crash said. “I feel like that about Quick and Flash. Flash was always so nice to me, and Quick… well… you already know. But, even them… I get scared sometimes around them.” 

“How so?” Metal asked gently. 

“Sometimes…” Crash closed his eyes and breathed slowly. “Sometimes I get scared that if I get too close, I’ll really hurt them without meaning to. Like that time I blew up Flash by accident. Quick got… really, really mad at me for that. Sometimes I get scared that they feel just as scared, too. I get scared of them being scared of me. I don’t know if that makes sense.” 

“That makes sense.” Metal said. 

The drillbot felt more tears welling at the corners of his eyes, but he continued on. “I don’t want to scare them. I don’t want my linemates getting scared of me. But… my stupid feelings… I can’t control them half of the time. And I don’t know why…! I don’t know why I’m like this.” His breath hitched again and he trembled against the wine-red Wilybot. 

Metal shuffled slightly beside him. Crash felt a hand and arm reach around him and squeeze him lightly against Metal’s body. He closed his eyes and tried his best to regulate his misery and fears washing over him again. 

“If it’s anything,” Metal offered, “I don’t think your Crash Bombers can hurt me. And your emotions… I don’t always understand them, but they don’t make me afraid of you. I promise.” 

“My Crash Bombers can hurt anyone, though.”

“The only weapons that are really effective on me are Quick’s… …and my own,” Metal admitted slowly. 

The drillbot peeked an eye open and looked up at Metal through his visor. “That doesn’t sound right. We’re supposed to be immune to our own Special Weapons.” 

“I know… but I’ve got the proof on my body.” Metal said quietly. Crash looked at him now with damp, wide eyes. Metal must have noticed, as he pointed a finger to the dark blue neck guard that covered and protected most of his neck. “It’s under here. The biggest scar I have; it goes all the way around. It’s what Megaman gave me on our last day online.” He huffed and closed his eyes. “I told you I wasn’t perfect.” 

Crash wasn’t sure what to say after that. He closed his eyes again and let himself rest. The voices that whispered his darkest insecurities to him seemed to have been quelled and silenced now by the comfortable quiet shared between the two of them. Metal Man wasn’t perfect, but he helped Crash feel better about things. That, at least, mattered to the drillbot. 

“Even if you’re not perfect, I still think there’s a lot of good stuff about you.” Crash said. 

It was now Metal’s turn to peek an eye open at Crash. “Would you believe me if I said I thought the same about you?” 

Crash snorted. “No.” 

“Well, too bad. Because I meant it when I said that you’re worthy. And I don’t think your feelings are stupid, either. They’re yours, and you’re not stupid at all.” 

That got a small, sad smile out of the drillbot. “Are you trying to make me cry more?” 

“I promise I’m not trying. I just want you to feel better.” Metal said.  

“You listening to me helps a lot. And being here too, even though I screamed at you. …Thanks, Metal. Like a lot.”  

“Of course, Crash.” 

Following Metal Man once more, he was led back down to ground level once again. Not via leaping off the rooftop, thank everything , but instead via busting the door open to the stairs inside the building. He didn't realize just how tall this apartment building was. He could smell some kind of strange burning smell emanating from the interior. He was glad to get outside again as quickly as they did. 

PIPiT was perched on his opposite shoulder. It seemed like even PIPiT was worried about him… 

Bomb Man seemed to be completely missing though, along with his half-busted truck. Oops . He guessed that they were stuck in the city now for some time. He stayed close by Metal's side. 

…

…and that's how the two of them found themselves in another human dining establishment. A ‘diner’, as he read from the sign outside. The two Wilybots sat next to each other in a booth. 

A human walked by and passed them some menus. It advertised breakfast foods, and his eyes widened. Crash read together with Metal– there were just so many choices to pick from. He read the selection over and over, until Metal told him to point somewhere on the menu with his eyes closed. He did, and… …Pancakes, it is. Metal ordered some kind of egg food. 

Crash glanced around the diner. There were a lot of humans here, but nobody really seemed to care about either of them. This entire diner reeked of all different kinds of food smells, too. Bitter coffee, sizzling meats, something sweet… No, he needed to pay attention and be patient. The food was coming soon, and Metal was talking to him. 

“You know, when I found you at your Tower, I found pIpIt–” 

“PIPiT.” Crash corrected. 

“PIPIt?” 

“Almost!” 

“PIPiT. PIPiT?” 

“Perfect.” Crash chirped, smiling at the wine-red Wilybot. 

“I still don't get it,” Metal sighed lightly, but didn’t bother to hide the small smile on his scarred face. “But yeah. I found PIPiT before I found you, and it had a Crash Bomber inside it. Why did you put bombs in your Pipis if you liked them so much?” 

Crash’s eyes lit up and he smirked. “You didn't know about my Plan B, did you?” He glanced around their table setting, and eyed something sitting by the window. “Hey Metal, could you get those crayons and paper?” 

Metal gave him a curious look, before reaching across the table for them. The paper in question had puzzles for beginners printed on one side, but the cutterbot flipped it over to its blank side. He looked around the table, and caught sight of the rubber bands wrapped around their dining utensils and napkins. “Give me your drill for a second.” Metal said, removing the rubber bands. Crash did as asked and moments later, he had a blue crayon affixed to his drill. “So what's this Plan B of yours?”

Crash Man got to work with his new tool. He didn't consider himself an artist by any means, but he was eager to talk to someone new about his old war plans. His crayon drawing was sloppy and shaky but Metal followed along anyways. “Okay, so you are right— I liked my Pipis a lot. But I didn't have a lot of attack-type models at my Tower. So I had my Plan B: If I couldn't destroy Megaman, then my Tower would.” He grinned as he drew messily, recreating his beloved Tower, in blue now. He drew little circles around the Tower. “I had a lot of surveillance-type models though, so right before Megaman started showing up to any of our stations, I put Crash Bombers inside those ones. I ordered them to ram into the Tower if my signal went offline and I lost connection with them all.” He scribbled a blue mess of lines underneath the Tower. “The Tower would collapse on top of the pipsqueak and boom. One Thousand Pipes Attack and Megaman was done for.” He grinned at his articulate battle plan, drawn out in children's crayons. 

“A gambit from beyond your destruction,” Metal commented. “And it utilized all of your Pipis you ordered, *and* all of those yellow pipes as well. Weaponizing the entire station itself… I'm pretty impressed, Crash. This is a pretty solid backup plan.” 

The drillbot couldn't help himself but beam with pride a little. Flash hadn't approved of his plan back then, so to hear Metal praise it… It was nice. Somebody understood his vision. 

“If Megaman hadn't been so quick to teleport at first notice, your Tower would have probably rendered him unrecognizable in that scenario. Doctor Wily would have repaired you, congratulated you, and… we all would have moved onto Phase Two.” Metal explained. 

“There was a Phase Two?” Crash asked, blinking. 

His linemate paused and looked at him with surprised eyes. He lowered his volume to a muted hush. “You didn't know about Phase Two…? Of Doctor Wily’s world conquest? Didn't Doctor Wily tell you about it?” 

Crash lowered his own voice to a hushed whisper, and he looked back at Metal. “Doctor Wily didn't tell me a lot of things, I don't think. I thought we all just had to kill Megaman. That's what we were all built to do, right?” 

To say Metal Man looked very bewildered wasn’t an exaggeration. “Why wouldn't the Doctor…” He muttered to himself, trailing off. “We were built to kill, yes, but we were also built to conquer.” He reached for a crayon himself– the black crayon, and began to draw on the free space leftover. “Phase One was to lure Doctor Light’s strongest weapon– Megaman, into our traps and Stations, where one of us would eliminate and destroy him. Wily Fortress II was packed to the brim with traps as a failsafe, in case he managed to destroy all of us, while also providing Doctor Wily with an alternate escape route. The idea that was relayed to Air and I was that if Doctor Wily could escape, he could rebuild all of us once he found safety and shelter.” The cutterbot drew in precise, strong strokes, his fingertips gripping the crayon close to its point. He had doodled a rough sketch of their old Base, of Wily Fortress II, along with a stick figure– Doctor Wily– and what looked like their master's Wily Saucer II. 

He continued to draw. Eight tiny doodles— their whole line, with arrows pointing in different directions. Small doodles of a city, of the ocean, of clouds and the sun. “Phase Two, once we defeated Megaman, would commence after. Air commanded the skies, and Bubble commanded the waters around this part of the world. The remaining six of us, with our armies renewed and expanded, would enact and enforce Doctor Wily’s new world order. The humans in locations like this city, surrounded and unable to escape, would either have to comply, or be dealt with, as a warning to their peers. Once we had a secure hold on this country, we would then move onto Phases Three and Four. Those phases would unite robotkind and bring both global world peace and prosperity, under the Doctor’s genius and guiding hand.” 

The orange drillbot blinked as he stared at the doodles on the paper. He stared at the little doodle Metal made of himself, with a visor and little drills. “...I wasn't told about any of this.” He reaffirmed to Metal. “I was only ever told that I was built to kill Megaman.” His sole purpose in life. Win or die. Kill or be killed.

Metal looked just about as full of questions as Crash himself had been for his whole existence. The cutterbot huffed and looked… frustrated. “I don't understand why he wouldn't tell you…” He murmured. 

A silent pause fell upon the two Wilybots. Metal seemed to be getting lost in his own thoughts. Crash watched him carefully. He wasn’t sure what to say. But… if what Metal said was true, then… Crash smiled a little bitterly to himself. It’s a nice thing to believe. That he was built to do more than just blowing things up. 

He lifted his drill to the paper again, and drew little circles around the stick figure version of himself. His smile turned a little more genuine, putting Pipis around the two-dimensional version of himself. Two, three, four… He looked at his old ensemble of Pipis less like an army, and more like a flock of chatty birds. He paused briefly… and then started drawing more crude Pipis around the tiny Metal Man. He honestly was surprised that Metal liked them, too, seeing how he complained before, but… a question was still left unanswered in his mind. “Hey, Metal?” He spoke up. 

“Hmm?” 

“How come you like Pipis? You didn’t use them in your Factory.” Crash asked. No, Metal had those… little clowns around him. Maybe he likes clowns? Metal Man, a little clown-liker? His smile grew at the silly mental imagery of Metal balancing on those big gears like his little clowns did. 

The question seemed to snap Metal out of his train of thought. “Oh, I like them because I designed them.” He casually said. 

Crash’s eyes widened. “You designed them? You MADE-made Pipis?” 

“Well, the Surveillance-type models, I did. I drafted the original blueprint for the surveillance-type model and Doctor Wily liked it enough that he created the attack models and Copipis.” Metal explained. “I think I did a good enough job ensuring that they behaved and ‘acted’ like organic birds, too. I think I made them pretty cute, too.” 

“You made them ADORABLE. They’re awesome! ” Crash gushed suddenly. And louder than he intended. Metal gave a foul look at any nosy humans nearby. 

PIPiT peeped its head out from below the table and chirped at Crash. At the very least, it sounded pretty satisfied to hear that Crash and Metal liked them so much. 

Metal had a small smile on his face. “And… the fact that you, Air, and Wood liked them so much too? It kind of makes me feel a little proud, even.” 

“You should be. I think it’s really cool.” Crash nodded and smiled, before his nose picked up on something delightfully irresistible. The human had returned with the food that they each ordered, and Metal cleared some space on the table. The pancakes and eggs they had ordered, presented before him to devour. Well… if he had a way to hold it, he’d devour it. The drillbot simply just stared at the food, trying to eat it with his eyes and mind. 

The wine-red Wilybot glanced over at him and eyed the plate of food for a moment. “Oh, scrap. Right.” He uttered under his breath, before speaking quietly to Crash. “Do you… need help with the food, Crash..? I don’t mind helping out.” 

His mind suddenly swirled with anxious thoughts, insecurities that he thought his inner voices had their fill of, already. He glanced at his linemate nervously, mouth set in a firm line. It… wouldn’t be bothersome to Metal, would it? If he really did need help with eating… or help just doing little things each day? …would it? “...are you sure?” He asked him quietly. “It’s not like… annoying, right?” 

Metal huffed silently and shook his head. “It’s not.” 

“You really don’t think so?” 

“I promise. Plus, I think it’d help you feel better.” 

Crash nervously looked between Metal and the pancakes. On one hand…. He really didn’t want to make Metal mad with him. But also… the pancakes smelled really sweet. He carefully weighed the options in his mind. But… in the end, pancakes won. “Okay… yeah, is it okay to… ask for help?” 

“Of course.” Was all Metal said. 

The two Wilybots enjoyed a fairly quiet breakfast together for the first time. Metal held pancake pieces gingerly for him, and Crash would chomp down each bite with gusto. Pancakes were… soft. Soggy, even. But they were so sweet with the sticky stuff on top… It was all he could ask for. Metal, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of sweet food, he’s noticed. The egg thing… well, it didn’t look like an egg, but it sure did taste like it. Fluffy, savory, there were vegetables in it, too. 

Metal was right. This did make him feel a lot better. Good grief, he loved food, actually. He easily understood now why humans were obsessed with it, and built these kinds of places.  

The drillbot licked his lips, content now. He glanced over at Metal, but he wasn’t eating. His eyes were trained somewhere else; Crash followed his gaze and landed on a TV screen suspended over the diner counter. It was some kind of assembly or gathering, of humans and robots alike. Front and center before a microphone, two Robot Masters took turns speaking in front of a crowd. Or rather, mumbling and muttering anxiously into the microphone. One was green with wings on his head, the other looked like a walking two-pronged plug. Both of them looked like they didn’t want to be there. “What’s that?” He asked. 

“I don’t know, but I think it’s related to the Ninth War,” Metal said quietly. Crash took a look at those robots on the screen again, only for the program to cut to a commercial break. He pouted. Those must have been some of the Ninth Line. Abysmal timing as usual… or not? He idly paid attention to the commercial, before something caught his acute attention. A scenic camera shot panned across an island off the coast of a faraway land. The island itself looked strange, but… familiar to the drillbot. It sported strange, cubic formations in cooler tones, and the cave entrance seemed to… 

Wait. 

Wait.  

The pieces clicked together in Crash Man’s mind, and his eyes turned huge. “Oh my god.” He breathed to himself. He immediately began nudging and bumping Metal with his arms. “Metal. Metal, look.”  

Metal’s eyes gazed back at the television. “What? What about it?” 

“Metal.” Crash said pointedly. “I know that place, Metal.” He stared at the television. He was absolutely sure of it, now. “That’s where Flash is.” 

Chapter Text

“ Are you sure about this?”  

That was Metal Man had simply asked Crash that morning, while the infomercial played.  What he hadn’t expected next, was the two of them rushing through Monsteropolis at breakneck pacing— to have moved into action as swiftly as they did, on a fuel chamber full of breakfast, and a solid zero hours of recharge time. 

Metal rushed through the city streets and crowds with Crash in tow, his arm locked around the drillbot’s to keep him close at all times. He swiftly maneuvered and pushed his way past shifting crowds of robots and humans alike. He briefly recapped over the information that he’s gathered this morning: 

Flash Man was stationed somewhere in Europe. His station was mostly underground, with its most easily accessible entrance being via an opening over the topside of an island. Crash Man had visited Flash Man at his station a few times before, and recognized the island on the television as the exact location where Flash is currently resting. Or… should be, at least. Anxious thoughts bit and nipped at the corners of Metal’s digital mind. No, no. He cannot be thinking of that possibility right now. Not unless he wanted to start sprinting and take Crash’s arm right off the socket with him. 

His own confession he admitted to Crash a week prior echoed in his mind. 

‘I wanted to bring everyone back because the humans can do whatever they want to robots– especially us– if we’re all just scrap laying around in our stations.’ 

Flash Man is in danger of being at the complete mercy of the humans, being in such close proximity to them, while he’s inactive and vulnerable… Not for long , if either of the two of them had anything to say about it. He would not let the humans get their invasive, filthy little hands all over him.

The two crossed a noisy and busy intersection, with cars haphazardly snaking in-between crossing pedestrians. One such car nearly hit the two Wilybots, were it not for a well-placed Metal Blade to one of its tires. The two Robot Masters effortlessly slipped right back into the packed crowds, back into the veil of anonymity. 

The humans here really, truly don’t give a shit, Metal thought to himself. It was a double-edged sword to deal with in such a crowded area, but it was one he would take advantage of the first moment he could. 

Now, for the information that he’s gathered since this morning. One dine-and-dash later, and a quick visit to the Monsteropolis Greater City Library and a chat with its head librarian provided some insight on their destination. It’s an island that was locally nicknamed the “Basalt Isle”, an island offshoot along the western coast of Scotland. It’s an islet with some cultural history, and is a common tourist destination, supported by the fact that the infomercial in question this morning had advertised boat tours and cave exploration there. However, it served to feed the cutterbot’s anxieties more than anything else. A quick glance at his linemate though, and the cutterbot was confounded again by Crash. If anything, he seemed immune to such anxieties and instead wore a newfound coat of excitement over his already-excitable attitude. 

He didn’t understand the drillbot… at least… not now, he didn’t. He wondered if maybe there was some merit behind Crash’s general positivity, and that his own anxieties were misplaced. …No. No. His fears were real and founded. A quick reminder of the Robot Museum was all it took to validate his thoughts. But Crash wasn’t wrong, either. He didn’t think so, at least. Maybe the difference in perspective would serve to be helpful in the long run of things? He thought to himself.

So, that was the ‘Where’... and what he currently contemplated was the ‘How’. Bomb Man was nowhere to be found after Crash exploded his stupid truck. The trip to Doctor Light’s Laboratory was a long one from here, especially with no means of transportation available. And it wasn’t even guaranteed yet if the good doctor currently had a working teleporter system or not. He… really wished he had asked at some point. The two Wilybots had already noticed some entrances to an underground subway system in various points of Monsteropolis. A hesitant peek down there, and all it took was Crash catching a whiff of something utterly foul (according to him), and for the subway systems to screech and scream out the worst sounds Metal had ever heard in his life, for the both of them to near-immediately back out of the underground stations. Frag no. That was a meltdown waiting to happen to the both of them. 

And not to mention that… well. There was no other way to put it: They were flat-out broke. 

A hypothetical passed back and forth between himself and Keeper Woman seemed to present a possible solution to their situation, though. Monsteropolis had its very own airport, one that regularly took both human and robot passengers. And while the process to board a plane that crossed over into Europe was an extensively lengthy one for humans, it sounded as though it was generally much shorter for Robotkind, due to humanity not quite yet acknowledging Robot Masters as sapient entities with things like rights. Once again, the humans really didn’t give a shit at all, huh? 

What, are they stupid or something? Metal joked to himself. Metal and Crash are Doctor Wily Numbers: quite literally walking weapons, and humans just… don’t care at all. 

He wondered just how any sensible Robot Master could tolerate the humans’ arrogance and self-absorption for as long as any of the First Line have been active. 

The process for Robot Masters to board a plane was already short… as passengers. Supposedly, it was an even shorter process to board a plane as cargo. Not that Metal Man himself was a fan of such a thing– let alone any sensible Robot Master, in his opinion– but he’s already surrendered what little dignity he had to Doctor Light to get Crash online again. And according to his short orange linemate, dignity was not a part of his design philosophy in the first place. 

Also, this was free. He couldn’t argue against a price like that. 

It was one of the only feasible plans of action they had in their hands, currently. And now that the knowledge haunted him that Flash was just sitting there defenseless, waiting wasn’t an option to the cutterbot, and especially not to the drillbot. Flash was Crash’s friend, after all. They had to at least give it a try. 

The Monsteropolis Memorial Airport was located in the southern tip of the massive metropolis. It wasn’t far from where they were. With a little tug at Crash’s arm, the two Wilybots hurried to their destination, with a running stamina that only machines, or the most seasoned of citybound humans, could have. 

Half an hour later, and the Wilybots found themselves at their first destination: the Monsteropolis Memorial Airport. Supposedly, this was one of the first locations Doctor Wily had attacked with the reprogrammed First Line during the First War, hence the establishment’s new name. It couldn’t look any more different today, however. This place was thriving, and crawling with humans at every possible turn. The cutterbot stopped right in front of one of the terminal entrances. Metal leaned against the wall and zipped open his backpack he had carried with him this whole morning. PIPiT’s wide-eyed face greeted him with a chirp. 

“Alright, so here’s our plan of attack.” Metal started in a hushed voice, eyeing Crash. The drillbot focused on him and listened intently. “We’re gonna go in there and request to board the soonest plane to Scotland we can get. Today, and only today , we’re Lightbots. We’re on our way to a Robotics Expo to meet with Doctor Light himself. I’m DLN-009 Blade Man, and you’re DLN-013 Drill Man. If they give you any paperwork, just hand it over to me, I’ll take care of it.” Metal paused, before looking at Crash with a sharp gaze. “Sounds good?” 

Crash nodded. “Yeah. That works.” 

“Good.” Metal said, before directing his attention to the little birdbot in his bag. “As for you, PiPIT–” 

“PIPiT.” 

“PIPiT, thank you. PIPiT, Standby Mode.” Metal ordered the little birdbot, who stood at attention and awaited his orders patiently. He glanced over at Crash. “Just for now, you two are going to have to unlink and desync. We need PIPiT turned off for this.” 

“Aw…” Crash pouted, “But we can turn them back on later, right?” He asked, before lifting up his drill to beckon over the birdbot. PIPiT, without complaints, hopped out of Metal’s bag and connected itself to Crash Man’s arm again. 

“Yeah, of course.” Metal reassured his linemate, before continuing. “The humans are also going to want us to ‘deactivate’ for the flight, as well. We can give them what they want, maybe for about an hour to an hour and a half… how’s that sound? Do you still remember how to set your internal timers?” He asked. Crash nodded eagerly. “We can put ourselves into our own ‘Sleep Mode’ and the timers will bring us back ‘online’ once we’ve already boarded the plane. If any of the humans try anything suspicious with us, we’ll be getting more than enough alerts to come back online and give them a rude awakening of their own.” He explained, a little smirk gracing his face behind the mask. 

Crash smiled deviously and nodded. “Of course, of course.” 

“Everything sounds good? ‘You ready to go get Flash?” 

“As good as ever. Let’s do this.” Crash answered, grinning. 

Much to Metal’s relief, his plan had gone off without a hitch. The humans fell right into his ploy, and didn't even bother to question his nor Crash's legitimacy as Doctor Light Numbers. From what he's gathered, mankind is so whipped by the Father of Robotics that the thought of Robot Masters even pretending to be Lightbots simply does not cross these people's minds. 

Either that, or the humans working the counter today simply couldn't care less. Either way, it worked in their favor. The less questions, the better. Now put us on that plane.  

The only thing that threatened him to break character was his own offense, when the airport workers referred to himself and Crash as equals to PIPiT . He had a frustrated tirade and a half brewing in his mind at the implications that humans saw him and Crash as one and the same as their smaller, simplistically-coded subordinate, but for now, he'd have to settle for just thinking about chopping up ignorant humans into stringy pieces instead. He had a mission to fulfill right now. 

With consent forms signed, and their backpack and birdbot sent off to the loading zone, all that remained in the way was their own ‘consciousness’. The cutterbot laid upon one of the cleared tables, and gave Crash one last knowing look. He was met with a not-so-subtle wink from the drillbot. Metal quietly sighed and smiled behind his mask. Goofy robot… He proceeded to pretend to ‘shut down’ for the humans, manually slowing down his fans and processor. He didn't mind about an hour or two to allow himself to rest.

A set of internal pings awoke the Robot Master from his short rest. 

He allowed his systems to ‘wake up’, catching up with the current time, catching up with the alerts his programs notified him of. His fans started up again, and he slowly opened his eyes. 

…It’s cramped in here, he first observed. Cramped, and he also picked up on the constant hum and buzz of a large engine. We must’ve already taken flight , was his second observation. He took a good look around the room, or rather, the short and narrow corridor he found himself in. The room was dimly lit, and surrounding him on all sides were various bags, suitcases, and containers, neatly stacked up and secured in place. He quickly took note that he himself was also strapped down to the flooring of this room, with belts and hooks. He snorted and swiftly removed them without issue. 

Metal took a look around the dim, cramped room. His red optics illuminated faintly in the darkness. He quickly caught sight of his linemate not too far from where he was. They seemed to have put Crash with the poor two animals that were also subjected to this dark, noisy flight. A small dog and cat, respectively. Metal carefully crawled over to Crash’s side and gently rested a hand upon the drillbot’s armored chest. 

The short orange Wilybot peeked an eye open in the darkness. “That better be you, Metal.” 

“It is, don’t worry.” He affirmed for him. Unlike the previous nights they had rested and slept on those old wooden palettes, Crash was quick to wake up here. Poor ‘bot must’ve held on to staying awake this entire time, he thought to himself. “They really did just stick us in with the animals and luggage, huh?” He mused quietly. He wondered if humans considered this the norm for all robots, or perhaps the ones that simply weren’t pilot or airplane-shaped. 

“I’m not surprised.” Crash said quietly. His teal optics began to glow in the dark as well. “Did you see where PIPiT is?” He asked. 

“No, but I’m going to find out for us,” Metal said, before smiling behind his mask, “and I’m also going to help ourselves too, while we’re at it.” 

“Whaddya mean?” 

“They put us in the underbelly of the airplane.” Metal answered, unable to hide the growing mischief in his voice as a new idea brewed within his mind. “Not a single human is able to access this part of the plane while we’re flying. So… there’s nothing that can stop me from getting ourselves a little extra something for our ‘trip’. Some Zenny, some clothes for disguises, maybe even a snack if you’re lucky.” He teased, eyeing the suitcases all around him. Some of them had simple locks attached to them, but it’s nothing that his Metal Blades can’t cut through. 

Crash blinked in the darkness. “If you find a snack, wake me up, okay? I think I might nap for real now.” 

“Of course, I will.” Metal said. With his sharp, refined optics, he could catch a glimpse of Crash smiling, before the drillbot shifted in place and got comfortable. He patted Crash’s chest lightly. “Sleep well, Crash.” 

He scooted away from his linemate, and looked around the dark room. Alright. Time to see what things of value these humans took with them. Or rather, got for them. Delightfully devilish, Metal, he thought to himself. 

Yet again, his plan went off without a hitch, and without any suspicions roused. Metal Man grinned behind his mask. Another victory for the brilliant Metal Man. And in a single day, too!  

He pulled PIPiT out of their backpack to hand over to a drowsy Crash, and then proceeded to dump a multitude of broken locks into the nearest trash bin. He was rather proud of himself, for the haul he managed to get for the two of them. Well over a hundred thousand Zenny, enough clothes available for Metal to have mentally put together some convincing disguises (or so he personally thought) for the both of them, and snacks… for a cat. The poor thing was too scared to move a muscle on the flight. Metal briefly wished that he could’ve stolen the cat, too. 

Bomb Man be damned, they were doing good right now. 

Metal proceeded to grab a handful of maps from the various stands lining this new airport and scanned them all, starting with the most relevant one. He committed the country’s layout to memory. His eyes focused on a tiny, innocent little island seated just off of the western archipelago. The Basalt Isle, there it was. They were so close to Flash now… They just needed to cross some… hundreds of miles, first. 

However, with the newfound -ahem- resources that they’ve acquired now, getting from Point A to Point B should no longer be an issue for them. If the humans in this country are anything like the humans he’s observed in Monsteropolis, then waving a fat-enough stack of cash in their general direction can convince them to do a myriad of favors. 

… 

A few cabs and some hours later, and Metal Man could not even believe his luck. The fare was relatively affordable, and all of the drivers were robots, too. This was a mission. This was a mission that they tasked themselves with, and yet, the cutterbot couldn’t help himself but feel more relaxed than he’s ever been for a single moment in Monsteropolis. He sighed to himself. 

Why did they have to be situated so close to possibly the worst city he’s ever experienced? 

He briefly wondered if Flash benefited from this general location as well, even when he was actively performing his intelligence missions. He’d have to ask him after they get him back online. The cutterbot briefly glanced at his linemate next to him in the backseat. Crash was holding PIPiT in his arms, but was utterly conked out from traveling. The birdbot in his embrace glanced curiously at Metal and opened its mouth, only for Metal to swiftly pinch its beak closed between two fingers. Don’t do it. Don’t be loud and wake up Crash. 

Metal let go of the birdbot and looked at it with narrowed eyes. PIPiT did not open its mouth, staring back at Metal. The two held the eye contact for a moment, before the cutterbot couldn't bear it anymore and turned his gaze away. 

Bringing his attention outside, he gazed out the passenger window. Idyllic rolling hills and the vast blue ocean crossed his field of view. Admittedly, he hasn't ever seen a view like this before. This easily beat the dinky little hills at Doctor Light's Laboratory. If Flash got to see this regularly, he might've even been a little jealous. Hah! He joked to himself. It's pretty, but it still doesn't compare to the view my Station had.  

“...Metal. Hey. Hey, Metal.” 

Someone nudged him with a drill, and said Robot Master groggily opened his eyes. The cutterbot stirred slowly and tried to blink himself awake. 

Well, at least until a certain birdbot started pecking at his hands. Metal’s eyes then snapped open and he winced, yanking his hand back. “Hey–! Watch the fingers, will you?” He barked. He shifted his gaze from PIPiT to Crash, and he scowled. “What are you grinning about?” 

Crash’s grin widened. “Metal, look out the window. We're finally here. We're at the ferry place. Look at that boat!” He chirped, pointing in front of Metal with a drill and almost shattering the cab's window by accident. 

He followed Crash’s arm and his eyes fell upon an imposingly large boat. This was the short ferry ride that was advertised? This boat could practically hold a village inside it… For a moment, he wondered how many robot subordinates could fit inside a boat like this, how many turrets could be outfitted onto it… 

“C'mon, Metal!” Crash chirped, nearly throwing himself out of the cab with PIPiT in his free arm. Metal composed himself and tossed some Zenny in the basket where previous passengers had tossed theirs. He scrambled out of the cab to Crash’s side. 

The two Wilybots approached the docks where the lit-up boat sat in waiting. There was already a crowd of humans filing onto the boat… and a noticeable lack of robots around. There were human staff that seemed to be admitting each passenger onto the boat. The cutterbot locked his arm around Crash’s. The drillbot looked at him curiously. 

Metal let out a tired sigh. More humans to deal with… but this was the final hurdle. They just needed to get past these ones and then they could get Flash. “C'mon, let's get this done.” Flash was so close. He just needed to get past these humans. 

…this would've been a lot easier if he could use his Metal Blades, too. Metal huffed to no one in particular. He stepped forward with Crash and got in line. 

Compared to everything else they had done in mere hours, the wait in line wasn't long at all. The two Wilybots came face-to-face with the ferry staff member. 

The scrawny human in question didn't even bother to look at them. His gaze was focused on the clipboard in his lap and some kind of paper list instead. He droned, “Name.” 

Metal bored his optics into the top of the human's hatted head. His mouth set in a firm line behind his mask. Unlike the last two times today, he… didn't come up with a plan this time. He didn't say anything. 

Crash, however, lifted up his free drill and chirped out, “Hi.” 

“Hi, hi…” the human droned, looking through the list. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. “There's no…” He finally looked up at the two robots and his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh.” 

‘Oh?’ Metal raised an eyebrow behind his helm. What, was he surprised that robots existed in this part of the world?

“Hi !” Crash reiterated louder.

“Do you have a reservation?” He asked the two Wilybots. 

“No, not really,” Crash answered. Metal stared sharply at this human. “Tickets for two!” 

The human narrowed his eyes on them next. “...just you two?” He looked around the two Wilybots. He seemed to look genuinely confused for a moment. “Where's your owner?” 

“Owner?” Metal repeated in disbelief, staring harder at this human now. If looks could kill, he'd gladly flay this one into sizable chunks.

“Oh, uh–” The human fumbled over his words. “Your, uh‐‐ your human. Your maker, or u-uh, affiliate.” 

“Not with us.” Metal grunted, his stare sharpening. “We just want to go to the island. How much are the tickets.” His grip around Crash's arm considerably tightened. 

“A-about that, um,” the human tried to interject, looking visibly uncomfortable at the death daggers Metal was psychically throwing at him. 

“How much. Are the tickets.” Metal repeated himself lowly. 

“Twe-twelve thousand each, b-but any robots boarding the ferry n-need to have a human escort–” 

The wine-red Wilybot proceeded to whip out the Zenny and slap it onto the clipboard so harshly that he worried for a split second that his body would lock up and give him Asimov’s Laws pop-ups. The human flinched. “Let us on the boat.” 

“Let us on the boat,” Crash repeated for Metal, also staring at the human now. Good. All the better to put the pressure on this human. 

“I– I can't, there–” The human glanced behind the Robot Masters, at the increasingly expanding crowd behind them. He swallowed.

Metal proceeded to slap more Zenny on top of the mess of Zenny bills covering the clipboard. “Let us on the boat.” He repeated himself in a low voice. 

“I– I can't…” The human started, before almost squeaking in fear as the cutterbot closed the distance between each other. 

Metal bored his piercing red gaze into the human's eyes. He spoke again, his voice taking on a threatening note. “You listen to me. Listen to me right now,” he glanced at the name tag on the human's shirt, “...Mike. You are going to let us on this boat.” He leaned closer. “You are going to accept the money payment we have given you. You are going to take the excess Zenny and you are going to put it in your pocket.” He leaned even closer and his voice grew colder. “If you do this, you will be given even more Zenny. If you fail to comply, you will be given sawblades. Have I made myself clear?” 

The human man, Mike, nodded. “C-clear as day, sir. G-go on ahead, sir. Sirs.” 

Metal huffed and finally leaned back. “Glad to hear it. Here's your dirty money.” He slapped one last heaping helping of Zenny at the quivering man before tugging Crash’s arm. The two Wilybots hastily boarded the ferry. 

He dragged Crash into the passenger cabin above the boat's deck, and sat themselves at a corner table. A wine-red hand came up to rest on his forehead blade and shield his optics from view. 

His orange linemate sat across from him and looked at him concernedly. “Metal, are you okay?” 

“I'm fine.” Metal lied, trying his best to hide his anger. He took back everything he said about Monsteropolis. He wanted nothing more now than to just grab Flash and get back to the warehouse. 

Crash frowned and looked away. “Why was that guy so weird about us being by ourselves? What did he even mean by ‘owner’? Robots aren't–” 

“I don't want to talk about it I don't want to hear about it.” Metal forced out. “I'm taking another nap. Wake me up when we're there.” 

Crash’s frown grew and he looked at Metal again. “Okay…” 

The scent of salt wafted in the wind, and the sigh of waves resounded as they crashed against nearby rocks. The sun began to set, painting the seas hues of purples, pinks, and oranges amidst the all-encompassing blues. The two Wily Numbers and their bird stood upon cool-tinted stones and boulders along the water’s edge. 

This was it… the Basalt Isle. 

The wine-red cutterbot’s ear twitched and he turned to look towards the ferry boat in the distance. He took note of the crowd of humans following a tour guide into the cave's main entrance. They didn't pay the Robot Masters any mind. Good . The less attention, the better.  

He faced his linemate next, who was already scaling the side of the rocky island. He easily followed behind him as PIPiT flew ahead. True to its namesake, the Basalt Isle was indeed decorated with short and tall basalt pillars alike. It gave the island its notably unique look, but it also made scaling to the peaks of the island much easier as well. A well-placed leap boosted the two to the top. The orange drillbot squinted his eyes as he looked around for something. 

“Okay, so…” Crash began. “I always teleported to Flash’s station, but he did tell me about another entrance one time. It's supposed to be the entrance that Megaman was meant to use.” He explained. “It's like a hatch or trapdoor of some kind on top of the island. It drops right down into his station.” 

Metal crossed his arms and he gazed far past both Crash and PIPiT with his superior eyesight. “Do you think the humans may have already found the entrance?” He asked quietly. 

Crash brought a drill tip to his chin. “Maybe? I doubt that they'd be able to open the hatch, though.” 

“I hope not,” Metal breathed. The two ‘bots quickly got to work to search the topside of the island. However, it didn't take long at all before Metal quickly spotted the hatch door in the distance, and even quicker did Crash scramble to it. 

Despite all the secrets his creator kept, if there was one thing that Doctor Wily couldn't help himself about, it was his tendency to show off however he can. Be it Wily Machines, his Robot Masters and subordinates, and apparently, his secret entrances as well. Interesting, Metal noted, as he gazed down at the hatch. It was big enough to fit a decently sized Robot Master, and on it, was the huge unmistakable insignia of Doctor Wily. Pristine, and thankfully untouched by humankind. “Finally,” Metal sighed. “Well, Flash… we're here.” 

“FINALLY! That took literally all day, just getting here!” Crash exclaimed, earning a look from Metal. 

“You're really used to teleporters, aren't you?” 

The orange Wilybot shrugged and snarked at him, “Well, it's not like I can drive a boat or fly a plane to get here.” He lifted his drills for emphasis. “Or swim, or fly , like Bubble and Air do.” 

Metal's ear flicked curiously. “You can't swim?” 

“Weeeell, it's not so much that I can't swim, it's more like… I just… uh, sink to the bottom really fast. I don't have any of that soft stuff that makes Bubble float,” Crash explained. 

“You mean the material that makes him buoyant? I don't have any of that either, but I can swim just fine. Maybe you just lack buoyancy in your design,” Metal pondered before he squatted to examine the hatch door. “So, how do you think we're gonna undo this latch here?” He pointed for emphasis. He could tell that this material was heavy, thick, and secured tight, even by Robot Master standards. PIPiT touched ground and curiously pecked where Metal was pointing. 

“I have my Crash Bombers.” Crash offered, smiling wide. 

“I wanted to try to do this more discreetly, y'know…” Metal said. 

Crash huffed. Metal considered getting his Metal Blades out, but paused. Wily Fortress II had reinforced security doors that were made of similar material. And he remembered watching Megaman blast through them like they were nothing, with Crash Bombers. “....on second thought, let's go with Crash Bombers.” 

“HAH! YES!” Crash barked excitedly, before gesturing vaguely with a drill at Metal. “You might wanna take cover, by the way. Or maybe get behind me. Or else you're gonna get a face full of rocks. Or maybe you'll scream like all the humans are in a sec.”

Metal’s eyes widened, and then gleefully narrowed. He and PIPiT got behind Crash. “You're right… this is gonna scare the shit outta them, huh?” He asked, hiding a devious smile behind his mask. 

Crash aimed his drills at either end of the hatch, and grinned. “Oh, they're gonna piss themselves.” He deployed two blinking Crash Bombers into the rocky terrain on either side of the hatch door. He then brought his arms together with a distinct ‘click’! 

BOOOOOOOOOOOM !! 

Debris and rocks flew in all directions, pieces bouncing off of Crash Man's visor and armor. Metal clutched and held PIPiT tightly as the topside of the island rumbled and shook beneath them. 

…

The cutterbot blinked his eyes open again, as the air around them cooled down. His ear twitched, before he turned around and peeked over Crash’s shoulder. “Did it work?” 

“Like a charm!” The drillbot chirped. In the distance, whatever crumpled metal chunk remained of the hatch door plunked into the sea. Right in front of them, a charred, smoking hole remained, revealing a long ladderway leading into darkness. Crash Man grinned and didn't even hesitate to hop into the hole, sliding down the ladder and disappearing from Metal’s sight. 

“Wh- H-hey, wait for me?!” Metal barked, following his lead and sliding down as well. PIPiT peeped and tweeted, flying down after the two. 

The two Wilybots took in a chilling breath of cold air. Crash didn't seem particularly phased and moved forward through the dimly lit cavern, PIPiT in tow, but Metal stood where he was. 

Flash Man's station was cold, pristine, and beautiful. 

What lighting remained of the mainly inactive station revealed large, cut blue gemstones lining the cavern walls and floors in hexagonal crystalline patterns. Ice seemingly covered everything in this wide area, coating any basalt pillars, and forming icicles along the ceiling. The entire station twinkled and gleamed softly in the dim lights, teasing what cascades of blue hues this station really could've shown in better lighting. 

It was as though no time had passed at all since that fateful day. 

Metal blinked and snapped back to reality. He needed to stay with Crash. He jogged forward… and slipped almost immediately on his behind. “Augh.” He grunted and pushed himself back up. Right. Icy cavern. He moved again, more alert and carefully this time. He huffed and called out into the darkness, “Crash? Where are you?” 

He kept his ears at attention for his linemate's voice. …Nothing so far. Crash must've gone further ahead. At the very least, Flash’s station seemed to be pretty linear, even if the icy paths and walls quickly turned this passageway into something more like a maze. He came to a dead-end. “Crash?” He called again. “Crash..!” 

His ears twitched and he looked up. He could pick up on traces of the drillbot’s tenor voice bouncing through the cavern. “...on..!” 

Metal raised his voice. “Where are you!” The way his own voice echoed through the passageways made him feel… uneasy. This was supposed to be a battle station, even if abandoned. And yet, it was eerily quiet to the cutterbot. Perhaps, he was simply too used to the white noise of his Factory… It used to be bustling with the purring of engines, noisy machinery, the quieter hums of online systems, the scampering of his Pierobots, and even the cold Arctic winds howling against the building. Nothing but silence and ice here, the wine-red Wilybot thought to himself. Where are Flash’s subordinates?  

Traces of Crash’s voice echoed through the layers of the cave again. “...ve…! ….fou….. … … … onna… … ..up… walls…!” 

Walls? Metal questioned, but before he could dwell on it further, the telltale sounds of explosions boomed and rumbled through the whole cave. The ground and ceiling around him shook and trembled, and he lost his balance again. “HEY !! Be careful, Crash! Don't make this place collapse on us!!” He shouted back, and pushed himself up. 

He doubted Crash could hear him from here. He needed to keep moving and meet up with him again. 

He double-checked his footing again, before leaping up. He sloppily made his way through the upper layers of the cavern, slipping on ice and frozen rock a few times. He scowled to no one in particular. Why weren't we all made with slip-resistant servos like Crash?  

To his surprise, the upper layers of the cavern actually were more frozen over than the lower layers. He exhaled slowly, and examined the room before him. Huge piles of snow and ice filled this area… but no bomb shrapnel nor broken walls to speak of. Did Crash take another route…? He carefully made his way through the room, but something caught his attention. Or rather, multiple somethings. 

Within the ice along the piles of snow… Ah. That's what happened, then. Metal thought to himself. Multiple Shotmen, Flash’s subordinates, encased inside the ice growths, frost permeating their metallic bodies. Visible scorch marks and holes littered their bodies. Likely from plasma shots, Metal noted, and continued on. 

… 

…but… 

…If these Shotmen were wholly frozen, it's likely that they're unsalvageable. Damaged joints and servos from the cold, frozen or wet internals, delicate and niche parts turning brittle and breaking… 

…Would Flash be in the same condition, too…? 

Metal idly chewed his scarred lip. Sure, his own I.C. Chip casing was exposed to the brutal cold, but… what if that was just a fluke? What if he was just lucky?  

The cutterbot hurried past the Shotmen and continued on. 

Beyond the snowpile’d room was a significant drop, with platforms dispersed at various points to break the severity of the long fall. Even with these platforms around… Metal’s previous uneasiness returned with extra bite. Was Crash alright? He worried, …especially with these high drops? He wasted no time descending to the bottom of the pit. The cave was eerily quiet, and there was no sight of Crash Man anywhere on the way down. His only company now seemed to be the cold and Flash’s frozen subordinates. 

He was met with another large tunnel next. Sublayers showed a middle path and above him, a seemingly unstable-looking upper path hovered just above. He wasted no time leaping to each rising sublayer of frozen earth. “Crash?” He called again. 

To his surprise though, Crash’s voice sounded clear as night from across the room. “There you are, Metal! C’mon, over here!” Metal’s ears perked straight up and he found the short orange drillbot and his little buddy right by the unmistakable shutter doors that lead to each of Doctor Wily’s Robot Master Battle Arenas. Ignoring the embarrassment he felt from slipping and tripping each time, he scrambled across the natural staircase to reach his linemate. 

“Crash!” Metal panted, standing up on slightly wobbly legs, “How did– how did you get down here so fast? Are, are you okay? W-wasn’t that a huge drop before? Are you damaged?” 

Crash Man simply smirked, perhaps to Metal’s confusion and irritation. “Oh! That’s easy. I helped Flash dig out this entire tunnel system not too long after he was activated. I know where all the shortcuts are. So I didn’t have to deal with the scary drop at all.” He explained. “And I’m fine! But thanks for asking, Metal. There’s a lot of snow here to break any falls or crashes I have here.” 

“...oh.” To his unavoidable embarrassment, he… had not considered that Crash was simply that familiar with Flash’s station. Of course he’d know shortcuts: he helped BUILD this place. Metal thought. Crash… must have been close with Flash then, if he kept visiting even after he finished assisting him with constructing his station. Granted… my only close friend was Air, but… visiting him wasn’t easy. And I didn’t help build his airship, either. It made Metal feel… something. He wasn’t sure. He shook his head, pushing the feeling down. “Of course, Crash. You’ve got snow all over you, too. Do you need help with that–?” 

“Oh, nah, I’m good!” Crash said as his only warning before effectively shaking all the snow off of his body… and onto Metal instead. The cutterbot gave a deadpan look at his linemate and wiped the snow off of himself. Was he some kind of dog?  

“Thanks.” 

Crash’s eyes widened for a second, before he laughed. “Oh, sorry, haha!” He offered the cutterbot something akin to a sympathetic smile. The orange drillbot whistled for his Pipi, who swooped down to perch on his extended drill. He walked over to the side of the shutter door, to a keypad on the wall. With his instruction, PIPiT keyed in a number code with its beak. The shutter door let out a metallic groan before opening up for the two Wilybots. Metal followed Crash through the narrow corridor. 

Flash Man’s battle arena looked similar to the rest of the icy cavern, but the lighting here was notably brighter. The room illuminated the beautiful blue crystalline brick and tile patterns… and their damages as well. The telltale signs of a Robot Master battle were evident all around. Scorch marks from energy bullets, cracked and crumbled stone, and shattered ice shards decorated the arena. …and there’s no Flash Man in sight. 

“Where is he?” Crash asked. 

“Probably in the teleporter room, from our rematches with Megaman,” Metal answered. “Do you know where it is?” 

“Oh right, yeah. It’s one of the rooms that connects to this one. Flash always had a bunch of secret passages and stuff, especially around here. It confused me sometimes back– back before we fought Megaman. You had to push some tiles or bricks.” Crash explained, before searching around. Metal watched him carefully. Crash glanced along the cracked and damaged walls… and then looked at the tiles beneath his feet… and then at the corners of the rooms. “...ahah… uh…” 

“You don’t know where it is.”

“I don’t know at all.” Crash admitted. 

“Then, we’re going to find every single passageway until we get the teleporter room. Let’s split up our search.” Metal said. 

“You got it!” Crash said, his smile returning. 

The two Wilybots began their thorough search. Crash Man made sure to step on almost every floor tile and brick he saw. Meanwhile, Metal Man pressed his hands along the walls, feeling to see if any of these bricks have any give behind them. PIPiT helped the cutterbot with the higher bricks near the ceiling. Many of the bricks crumbled under Metal’s touch. His eyes narrowed. C’mon Flash, you’ve got to have a secret hallway somewhere. He didn’t know Flash nearly as well as Crash did, if at all , but he couldn’t help but wonder why so many secret passageways specifically connected to this room. Was it an afterthought? Metal wondered. 

Then again, he didn’t know Flash’s station, or Crash’s, or even all of Air’s. Somebody does, even if it… isn’t me, Metal thought to himself. He… really didn’t know anybody at all. 

The strange feeling from earlier returned and Metal sighed. He wished Air were with him. 

So much for being an efficient and resourceful Wily Number… Crash has been guiding ME instead of the other way around. His eyebrows furrowed beneath his helm, before he suddenly lost his balance, even if for a moment. His hand had sunken deep into the wall while lost in his thoughts. His eyes widened as multiple bricks shifted in unison and revealed a dark, hidden passageway. 

“Hey, Crash. I found a passageway!” Metal called out to his linemate. 

“Yeah, I just did, too!” Crash said from across the room. 

The two looked at each other and Metal nodded at Crash. The two went into their respective passageways. 

The dark and narrow corridor led Metal Man to a surprisingly small room before him. Seemingly having been only candlelit in the past, it was a vibrant blue bedroom, or personal quarters of sorts. It had a small bed, a desk and chair, a paper shredder, an organized yet outdated calendar, and a stack of magazines. 

This room… reminded Metal much of his old room at his Factory. He… wasn’t sure if he should be in here or not. It wasn’t his place to intrude on Flash’s privacy. 

He turned around to head back out, but he paused. This room… is full of Flash’s personal belongings. And it was all fully intact, too. ‘ Maybe we could make them feel nicer about all of this.’ Crash’s words echoed in his mind from the prior week. And not to mention, Crash was utterly thrilled to have PIPiT with him, too. Metal turned around and looked at the messy desk. His ears lowered a little and he looked to the side… before he sighed and turned around again. Crash was right, though. And even though this… didn’t feel great to Metal, it certainly was one way to get to know Flash a little better. 

Hesitantly, he took a seat at the cluttered desk. An archaic kind of technology sat at the back of the desk, with what looked like large speakers. A number of equally archaic-looking kinds of data storage units were neatly stacked next to the larger device. He… admittedly had no idea what they were for. Multiple papers messily covered much of the desk. They seemed to be a variety of pencil drawings. Some were technical drawings that Metal recognized as building floor plans, and others were more… freeform. Some looked to be analytical diagrams of objects, others looked to be studies of the exteriors of objects. Did Flash draw these himself? 

Without thinking, Metal gently scooped up what drawings he could and organized them in a stack on one side of the desk. He cleaned up every piece of clutter he could on the desk. It was the least he could do, as an apology for intruding like this. He lifted another paper and Metal’s eyes widened. A single key laid on the desk. 

The cutterbot’s attention shifted underneath the desk. Multiple drawers were locked. He sighed. He had already gone this far, he might as well come back with at least ONE thing for Flash to keep. He took the key and unlocked the drawers. 

The top drawer contained two objects. A notebook of some kind, and a photo frame. He instinctively reached for the photo. His eyes widened. It was a photo of all of their Line. He remembered this photo being taken not too long after Wood was activated…  

… 

…Metal put the framed photo back in the drawer. 

He opened the bottom drawer next. Only a single piece of paper and a large box sat within it. He grabbed for the box first and examined it. It was an unopened package containing a fancy-looking camera of sorts. It piqued Metal’s curiosity; What did Flash need a camera for? There was a note attached to it. 

❄ Merry Early Christmas ❄  

Let’s make it ‘til then! ☺ 

-Q

If it was gifted to him and locked up… even if it was from Quick, it must’ve been important to him, Metal rationalized. He found a good keepsake. He carefully moved the fancy camera into his backpack. He should check on Crash, soon… 

… 

Metal glanced at the paper at the bottom of the drawer. Damn it all. 

He hastily reached for the paper. It… was a letter instead of a drawing. He couldn’t help himself but read its contents: 

Flashy Flash, 

I’ve been sitting here for like 15min already. I’m really not sure how I’m supposed to start or write something like this. So I’m just gonna do it. Screw it, right?

Thank you. For everything you did for me. I really… I don’t know how to put into words just how I’m feeling about all of this. I’m s tired. I’m wea scra scared. But you were there for me when I really needed it the most. I’ll never forget what you did for me, not for the rest of my existence. I don’t have really good words to express myself right now, but I’m hoping that the next time one of us visits, that I’ll be able to show you what it means to me, instead. 

Haha lol   I’ve never thanked anyone before in my life. Am I even doing this right? I just hope you don’t think I’m lame after this. lol

-From, Quick 

P.S.: I really liked the drawing you sent me the other day. I had no idea you were so good at it! You should draw way more. :-) 

Metal stared at the page, took a slower breath through his mask vents, and shuddered. He carefully creased and folded the letter, before putting it in his backpack with the same amount of care. 

He felt like a stranger in this room, but he couldn’t ignore that whatever Crash, Flash, and Quick had going on between each other, it made him feel a little better. Maybe even… hopeful? He zipped up his bag and he exited the small room. 

He stewed in his thoughts, quietly slipping through the battle arena, into the other passageway. His attention was only brought forward once he entered the next, brightly lit room. He glanced around again for a moment– this was undoubtedly the teleporter room– before his gaze fell on— on…–

Suddenly, the cold permeated his body to the core.  

Near the other side of the room, sat Crash Man, embracing and hunched over the linemate they had been looking for. The bulky and deep blue Flash Man rested in Crash’s hold, but… Metal’s eyes widened huge. Frost had crept over his body, and… Metal’s internals felt as though they had twisted up into bunches. Frosty Metal Blades were embedded in their linemate’s body all over. His armor was pierced and lacerated, his arm cannon was severed, his plexiglass bits were deeply cracked. One Metal Blade was embedded directly in between the Wilybot’s eyes. His optics looked hollow and faded. 

He was going to KILL that blue brat the next second he sees him!   

He closed the distance between himself and the two other Wilybots, utterly fuming, before slowing down. He could now see Crash’s shoulders hunched and shaking over Flash, hear his labored breaths and hitches… …Something inside Metal twisted up again. He was furious but… but Crash didn’t need that right now. Not now. He slowly knelt down by Flash’s other side. Crash tightened his hug and pulled him closer as he quietly sobbed. 

Metal… wasn’t sure what to say. He looked around, furrowing his brows, for a moment. He… but he still had to try, for Crash’s sake. Flash mattered to Crash, and Crash… well… Metal wasn’t sure what Crash thought of him. But the sight of Crash so… hurt over Flash like this made him want to at least try for him. 

The wine-red ‘bot spoke slowly and quietly. “Crash…” He began, pausing to consider what to say next. The orange drillbot only whined and cried as he hunched more over, shielding his face from Metal with his large visor. “Crash… I’m… I’m glad that we found Flash, to start. I… I’m not happy that Flash is so… … …hurt, l-like this. I’m… really angry, actually. B-but we’re here now, and we—” 

Crash’s voice, suddenly crescendoing and exploding out, filled the empty space of the teleporter room. “ I’M GONNA KILL HIM!! I’M GONNA BLOW UP THAT LAB AND THAT ROBOT, AND EVERY LIGHTBOT AND STUPID HUMAN I SEE!!” He wailed and screamed. Metal winced, his ears pinning back. Crash hugged Flash much harder and Metal’s eyes widened. 

“ Hey– err, uh, hey, hey. Crash… don’t hug him so hard right now– you’re gonna push the blades deeper into him.” Metal gently warned. He hoped that Crash was coherent enough right now to hear him. 

Crash audibly gasped and let go of Flash, bringing a forearm and drill up to further shield his face from every Wilybot in the room. He couldn’t help himself but sob more. Fortunately, Metal was able to catch the fallen Robot Master in his arms just in time. Flash’s body slumped in his arms… Metal looked at him sympathetically. I’m sorry you ended up being the one on the receiving end of my Metal Blades instead of Megaman, he thought, I… I should’ve done better. He should’ve been better, in every sense of the word. 

He failed Flash. He failed himself. And now he was failing Crash, even. 

Metal huffed softly, and adjusted his hold on Flash Man so he laid nicely in Metal’s arm. He used his free arm to carefully pinch at the Metal Blade buried between his eyes. Metal Man moved with near-surgical precision, working to slowly pull the jagged teeth of the Metal Blade out of his linemate. With a barely audible ‘slk!’, Metal gently pulled the Metal Blade out of Flash Man’s face, and discarded it to the side with a light clink. He next examined one of the Metal Blades buried into Flash’s torso. He grabbed it with a firm grip and began to work on removing it. He briefly heard Crash speak beside him, but his focus was absolute on his fallen linemate then. 

“Metal…” Crash said miserably. He sniffled. “Metal, what are you doing…?” 

“I’m…” Focus, Metal. “I’m taking all of this out of Flash. I’m the only one who can pull them out without damaging him even more.” Another blade removed. He worked to remove the blades out of Flash’s torso and shoulder. “I don’t trust anyone else with this.” That was true to an extent. Nobody knew Metal Blades better than he did. It’d be unacceptable if anyone else did. 

Crash was a weepy mess beside him and he feebly wiped at his tears with his arm. “Is… is he gone forever? Di-did his I-I.C. Chip get… y-y’know…” 

Metal remained masked as he worked, but his expression softened a little. “...no. It didn’t cut deep enough. He’s gonna be alright.” 

“Are you sure?” He asked so miserably. 

“Yeah. I’m sure, Crash. We’re gonna be able to bring him back, I promise.” Metal reassured him. More blades removed from his linemate. He was making good progress. “Can you go get his Time Stopper for me?” He asked gently. In a moment, Crash was holding out the severed white arm between his drills for Metal. The cutterbot carefully and slowly moved to bring close and open the backpack for Crash with his free hand. “Put it in there for me, okay…?” 

“Okay,” Crash sniffled. 

“I know you’re angry at Megaman and everyone he stands for,” Metal started, moving to the last few Metal Blades in Flash’s body, “I’m angry, too. I’m really, really angry. I know you’re even angrier than me. But we can’t kill Megaman just yet. Not now, at least. We need Doctor Light right now. We need to use him and keep using him so we can bring back all of our linemates and help them feel better about everything… y-y’know, all of this. ” He didn’t hear anything from Crash. He let out a light sigh. “It sucks, it really sucks. And it’s not fair. But… I… err…” Metal suddenly paused, trailing off. He is not going to put words in Flash’s mouth, especially not now, especially not to a grieving Crash. “I… What, w-what would Flash want, actually…?” He asked Crash, finally looking over at him. 

Crash’s face was finally visible to Metal: his gaze was fixated on their fallen linemate, his optics glossy and wet from crying. He sniffled, and another stream of tears trickled down his freckled cheeks. “H-he’d want us to… t-to n-not pick unnecessary fights, if we can help it. F-for us to stay safe and be happy.” The drillbot grit his teeth and he suddenly punched the ground with a drill hard enough to crack the ground below them. “It’s NOT fair though! It’s not fair at all! Megaman gets to go around hurting us a-and everyone’s happy for it…! He gets to do this to Flash and get away with it!” 

Metal’s expression saddened more, feeling a familiar frustration well inside him. He understood what Crash meant, and he let go of the latest Metal Blade embedded in Flash. “I know,” he said quietly. “I… if fighting Megaman again isn’t… isn’t an ideal solution right now…” Metal thought carefully about what to say next. “...then maybe honoring Flash’s wishes right now is what is ideal for now… And what you said before too, Crash. We can help him feel better once he’s back online. We can make the warehouse a comfortable place for him to rest and recuperate.” 

Crash sniffled quietly, wiping at his teary eyes. 

“Do… do you… think he would like that…?” Metal asked him genuinely. 

Crash nodded amidst his tears. “Yeah… I think so.” He scooted himself closer to Metal, pushing the discarded Metal Blades out of the way. “W-when you’re done taking all the blades out of him, can I hold him again?” He asked. 

“Of course, Crash.” Was all Metal said, before getting to work on those last Metal Blades. The last remaining few were buried into his legs, which fortunately did not contain any incredibly delicate nor sensitive parts. At least, as far as Metal was aware. He could afford to work a little quicker and sloppier, if it meant helping Crash feel better, too. 

A few wiggles here and some gentle tugging there, and… done. “There.” Metal exhaled in relief, tossing the last Metal Blade across the teleporter room and watching it embed into the wall. He faced Crash. “I got ‘em all out. Here, he’s yours.” He carefully moved the limp Flash Man over to Crash, only for the drillbot to pull the taller, fallen Robot Master into his embrace like an oversized plushie. Metal slowly stood to his feet, and then helped Crash up. The cutterbot reached for his backpack. “‘You ready to head back, Crash..?” He asked him. 

Crash sniffled and nodded. “Y-yeah. Let’s go back home.” 

Metal lingered on those words for a moment. Home…? He supposed that the warehouse was just a temporary Base, but… if they were already going through the motions to transform it into something more sustainable and suitable… maybe it could be like a home of sorts. A second home? A third one, if he were to be technical? His thoughts were soon interrupted by his short linemate. 

“M-Metal? Can you, you, can you whistle for me? To come get PIPiT?” Crash requested, before clarifying, “I-I can’t do it when I’m crying.” 

Metal stiffened a bit, before looking away a little awkwardly. “I, uh, I can’t whistle.” 

Crash adjusted his hold on Flash and tilted his head a little. He offered the cutterbot a little sad smile. “Aw, really? That sucks. I’ll have to teach you once we get back.” That got Metal to relax a bit. He sighed and relaxed a little, as well. “Whistling is easier for me, b-but I can always just ping PIPiT, too.” He explained, before going quiet for a moment… and his glossy eyes widened. “...PIPiT just told me it found something.” 

“‘Something’? What does it mean by that?” Metal asked. 

“I-I guess somethin’ important…? It’s in the battle arena.” Crash said. A good enough answer for Metal, and he knew Crash was antsy to get Flash back to the warehouse. Metal slowly helped Crash over to the battle arena. 

Almost as soon as they entered, PIPiT greeted them with a loud chirp, only to receive some kind of silent scolding of sorts from Crash. It immediately piped down, before fluttering over to Metal. Indeed, it was holding something in its claw feet. Metal opened his free palm and PIPiT delivered it promptly. In his hand sat an unlabeled USB stick. 

“You found this in one of the hidden rooms?” Metal asked the birdbot. It merely tweeted in confirmation. “...this is a pretty good find. It could be useless, or could contain really vital information for us. You did well, PIPiT.” 

Crash processed what PIPiT was relaying to him silently, before he spoke up. “It also found the exit to this place, but it’s telling me that it looks to be a long walk. A few dozen miles, at least.” 

Great, Metal thought. “Well, no time like the present, then. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can rest and go home. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” 

“Yeah,” was all Crash said, but that little tired smile was on his face again. Metal couldn’t help himself but smile a little to himself as well. 

He’d argue this was a ‘Mission Accomplished’, today. 

Chapter Text

Flash Man’s station was full of even more surprises than Metal Man had thought. He doublechecked himself and Crash, and continued on. An icy tunnel full of hidden passageways, and one of said hidden passageways revealed another miles-long tunnel, in order to get back to the mainland discreetly. However, a couple dozen miles on foot was no challenge for Robot Masters, let alone Wily Numbers who were built and trained to be prepared for anything. 

…well, anything physical. And they had E-tanks to spare, too. 

The walk from Flash’s station back to civilization was surprisingly calm. No humans or robots occupied this long, narrow passageway. Just Metal and Crash, and their fallen linemate, making their discreet exit from the commotion that they likely caused. Once we’re out of here, we’ll find a way back to America and then we can rest and get Flash online, Metal thought. Admittedly, he wasn’t entirely certain how easy it would be to make it back to Monsteropolis without issue, but he tried his best not to dwell on it for too long. We can cross that bridge once we get to it, Metal recited in his mind. Another human phrase he had once read in a book years prior, that admittedly? Metal personally liked it.  

Their journey through the tunnel system was almost at an end, as the two Wilybots were currently scaling up what seemed like an infinite ladder. The cutterbot let his mind wander idly as he scaled up the ladder, having switched his backpack with Crash to hold Flash Man instead. 

“Hey Crash?” Metal started. 

“What’s up?” 

“You were friends with Flash and Quick, right?” 

“We still are.” Crash corrected him. “What about it?” 

Metal spoke a little hesitantly. “So, Flash. What’s… he like?” 

He didn’t need to look at Crash to tell that the drillbot had perked up at the question. His ears twitched as he listened to him. “Oh, he’s really awesome. He’s super nice to me, and he cares a lot about all the robots around him. He thinks about them a lot, and he’s always looking out for me. He’s really patient. And he’s really smart, too.” Crash happily explained. 

“I see.” Metal dwelled on his words instead. He didn’t recall Flash having ever extended that kindness his way, let alone try to interact much with him at all before their battles. He would take Crash’s word, but a part of Metal Man wondered if Flash only reserved that kindness for those he kept close to him. If the warehouse were to become their new Base of operations, then he should… try to actually get to know the rest of his linemates this time. Even if it made the cutterbot uneasy and exhausted. He had to try to be social this time. …even if he can’t stand that normally. 

Metal glanced up and he was able to catch some dim lighting peeking through the ceiling. Looks like they finally made it. The light was peeking through what looked to be a street manhole. Alright… time to see where we ended up. “I think we’re at the surface again,” he gave the heads up to the drillbot below him. He adjusted his hold on Flash and the ladder, before using his free arm to push at the manhole cover. It didn’t take a terrible amount of effort to push it out and aside. A draft of warm, fresh air immediately hit his face. He peered out the opening to see the night sky and– 

… 

Huh?  

What the hell— no, who the hell was looking back at him. 

Metal Man blinked at the other person– most definitely a Robot Master– completely dumbfounded. The last thing he expected to see on the other side of a manhole cover was another robot. What the hell was he supposed to say?  

… 

“Well, don't just sit there, get out.” The Robot Master said irritably. 

Very suddenly, Metal was yanked out of the manhole with only enough time to let out a “Hey–?!” What just happened? Out of nowhere, this Robot Master moved incredibly fast… unusually so. Or– no- wait, was it fast? Or did he feel slow? He blinked and reached for Flash’s body while this new Robot Master started pulling at Crash with some struggle, and getting some noisy complaints from Crash. 

Taking in his surroundings, he made a few quick notes in his mind: They seemed to have arrived in a quaint little port town, and this manhole led to… an alleyway? He supposed it would make sense, if Flash was trying to keep suspicions low whenever he had business to attend to here. He took a good look at this Robot Master next. He had no idea who this was. The irate robot was short, donned primarily in hues of light purple, and sported two… bells? On his head. 

The wine-red Wilybot took caution. He had no idea who this was, but clearly he had been looking for them. A quick check of his energy levels told him that he had more than enough Metal Blades to shred this bot to pieces if he needed to. He kept his attention sharp as Crash clambered out of the manhole and PIPiT irritably gave a peck to this guy's head-bells with a satisfying ding~♪ .

“Avian scrap…” The unknown robot grumbled, immediately silencing the head-bell that was pecked. He brought his attention to the orange and wine-red Wilybots. “...Don't give me that look. I waited all evening for you Wilybots .” 

“Who are you? And what do you want with us?” Metal cautioned, standing between Crash and Flash, and this ‘bot. He glared at the unfamiliar Robot Master, and kept himself ready for attack, should this robot start moving abnormally fast again. 

The lavender bot before them crossed his arms with a ‘hmph’. “Frankly, nothing. But Doctor Light called on me to ensure your safe return to Monsteropolis. He interrupted my schedule for this, so regardless of your… reputation, this must have some importance or urgency to him.” He complained, scowling. “I've been waiting for you two bumbling scrap-heaps to exit this manhole for precisely 7 hours, 13 minutes, and 46 seconds, as of this sentence. Do you understand? That's 7 hours and 13 minutes missed that I have to factor into my schedule, and now I have to reschedule the next two weeks of my duties.” He spat at the two with near vitriol. 

Metal ignored this rude robot's plight, and repeated back, to confirm for himself. “Doctor Light sent you?” 

Crash peered around his shoulder. “ What reputation?” He asked. 

The lavender robot’s expression soured further as he glared back at the two. “Do not make me repeat myself.” He said. “And your reputation, as of right now, is ‘Concerning to the human Public’. Your attention, now.” Almost too efficiently, the Robot Master whipped out a similar kind of cell phone to Bomb Man’s, to show them a video lit up on the little screen. He hit the play button with his thumb. It was a news report that showed an overhead view of the very Basalt Isle that the two Wilybots were just at. A headline decorated the bottom of the video screen: - EXPLOSIONS AT BASALT ISLE – PANIC STIRRED – CONNECTIONS TO DOCTOR WILY -  

“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this immediate news report. Today, explosions and fear rang out at our historical Basalt Isle during a ferry and exploration tour of the island. Sources of the explosions are unknown, but according to local authorities, tremors were reported immediately after the explosions. There have been no confirmed human casualties nor injuries. The cause of the explosions have been linked to an entrance to a previously-unknown tunnel system underneath the island, that may potentially have connections to world-renown mad scientist and terrorist Dr. Albert Wily. An investigation is currently underway, and more information will be coming soon.” 

Metal and Crash looked at each other wide-eyed for a moment. Metal suddenly hissed under his breath. “Scrap. We should’ve gone with the Metal Blades…” 

“Oops.” Crash blurted. 

“‘Oops’ is right, because now you both have effectively brought my schedule to a grinding halt. And I am a very busy Robot Master.” The lavender ‘bot reiterated, grinding his teeth. 

“Who are you again?” Crash asked. 

The lavender Robot Master’s eyes looked ready to near-bug out of his metallic head. He looked comically angry to the two Wilybots. He growled at them, “It’s TIME MAN, DLN-00A Time Man! And I have no time for your questions nor your stupidity! The police are looking for you, and we need to get out of here. Now, give me your arm.” The irate Lightbot held his short arm out for the cutterbot. 

The cutterbot eyed his arm cautiously. “Why?” Metal asked. 

Time Man shook his head and growled out louder. “To teleport– just give me your arm!” He shook his arm for emphasis. However, Metal remained unmoving and unconvinced. Time Man’s eye twitched and he sighed exasperatedly. “I have a Mini-Teleporter on my person. I’m going to take you to a safe drop-off point where an affiliate of Doctor Light’s shall take you back home without arousing suspicions from the authorities. Satisfied?” He explained. 

Metal’s cold gaze at the Lightbot sharpened further. “And if you’re lying, we will kill you. Do you understand?” 

“So be it. Give me your arm now.” 

Metal looked back at Crash again and nodded at him. Crash nodded back in understanding. PIPiT perched on Crash, and Crash offered his free arm, which Metal locked one arm around. He held his other arm out for Time Man. The short, angry timebot gripped Metal’s arm with force and silently inputted a code internally. 

The familiar sensation and glowing of Energy encompassed the five of them, and suddenly, they were gone. 

-Boo-wipp-p-p!-  

For a group of Robot Masters trying to avoid the authorities for a panic they caused at sea, Metal didn’t expect to have been teleported back to the ocean. 

He immediately took in his surroundings as Crash regained his bearings beside him. They looked to be in a quaint port town still, but he was unsure if this was the same one. It definitely looked bigger from this angle, though. They appeared to have been teleported to the town pier. Multiple boats and ships were lined along the docks.  

“Where are we—” Metal asked, looking over at Time Man, only to be interrupted by Time Man letting out a harsh ‘SHH!’ and holding a finger up to him. He had whipped out that cell phone in record timing. 

“...Yes. Yes, we have arrived. Come out. …what– yes, we will pay you. Just– oh my god, just give the email to your robotics team and we will pay you for your services, now please come out. This is time-sensitive, as I said before. Thank you, and goodbye.” Time Man paced back and forth as he spoke hastily. He hung up and promptly turned to face the two Wilybots. “You are in the most southwestern city of the country currently. Your escort is here, and my time with you is complete. The Captain will be meeting with you shortly.” 

“Wait–” Metal tried to cut in, but Time Man wasted no time in preparing to teleport once more. Energy glowed around the short Lightbot. Who is ‘the Captain?’ Are they a human or a robot? Are they going back to Monsteropolis via boat travel? Which boat– 

“It was a displeasure working with you two. I expect Doctor Light to compensate and reimburse me for my time wasted today.” Time Man said, his scowl never once leaving his face. “One more thing: Keeper Woman gives her regards. Now goodnight.”  

And just like that, Time Man had teleported out of the conversation before Metal Man could get another word in. 

Metal Man gawked at the space where the short Lightbot once stood. Slowly, his emotions began to spill out from behind his helmet and mask as his eyes grew wide. He whipped his head at his orange linemate and his internal fans began to whirr as his mind raced. WHAT is going on? Do the humans know what they look like now? Are they going to find them here? WHAT did Time Man arrange for them? 

…and why did he mention Keeper Woman to him? 

Anxiety that he had kept at bay earlier now bit incessantly at his digital consciousness. “Crash, I– …” What did he even want to say to Crash? 

“Metal, are you good?” Crash asked, tilting his head slightly at him. 

“I don’t know? I think I’m freaking out maybe.” 

“Why? We’ve got a way home now, right?” Crash asked. 

“Oh… I don’t know…! Maybe because we have the cops already looking for us!” Metal said suddenly. “And we have a bunch of humans from the ferry who probably remember what we look like, and we have stolen money and goods, exactly ONE subordinate under our command, no Doctor Wily or even a completed Base to cover us, limited resources and no advanced technology like that teleporter Time Man had… And now Time Man is throwing us on a boat, plane, boat? I don’t even know.” It was now Metal’s turn to pace back and forth in front of Crash as he spoke quickly and nervously. “Not to mention, Doctor Light knows that we were here, too, and— oh scrap, what if he pulls his support from us? Or siccs Megaman on us, we’re NOT prepared. Oh my god who are we even going to see about repairing Flash Man now oh scrap scrap scrap scr–”  

He quickly paced back and forth, and then suddenly paced right into Crash Man’s drill. He abruptly stopped and let out a grunt. “Woah, woah, woah, calm down, Metal!” He heard Crash say to him, keeping his arm there. “You’re definitely freaking out. None of that stuff’s gonna happen.” 

The cutterbot backed up. “But how do you even know that? What if it does? What if—” 

“‘What if’ This, ‘what if’ That.” Crash scoffed, looking at Metal. “How do you even know what’s gonna happen, huh? Last I checked, you’re Metal Man, not Psychic Man.” 

“Can you take this seriously?!” Metal squawked at the drillbot. 

“I am!” Crash retorted. “I really am! I just don’t see the point in worrying about all that stuff if it– er, if most of it hasn’t even happened. You’re freaking out right now.” 

If Metal Man were better composed right then, he may have had a retort about how Crash should follow his own advice, but now? Oh no, it is so over for them right now. 

Crash added on, “Why don’t you breathe slow? Like you told me the other week when I was brought online?” PIPiT cocked its whole body curiously as it watched Metal. 

Metal took exactly one deep, forceful breath through his mask vents, before more words impulsively spilled out from him. “How are you so calm about all of this?” He asked. One of his ears was twitching anxiously. 

The drillbot blinked and answered as if it were the most casual thing in the world to say. “Well, you’re here, right?” 

Metal Man’s anxiously racing train of thought flew right off the tracks into a glorious imaginary explosion within his mind and he looked at Crash for a moment. “I…” don’t understand at all. What did he mean by that? “...huh?” 

Crash further explained for his dumbfounded linemate. “You told me yourself that we’re still Wilybots, no matter what. And Quick told me that Wilybots stick together, no matter what. We’re stronger and safer together. Maybe I would’ve been scared if I was alone with Flash offline here, but I’m not. You’re here, and we can figure something out, like you also said before.” 

The wine-red Wilybot stared at Crash, further dumbfounded. “Crash, your…” …faith in me is misguided. It’s wasted on someone like me. I’m a proven failure, through and through. I can’t… I can’t… Metal brought a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. He broke eye contact with Crash, looking elsewhere. “...do you really believe in me that much?” He asked. 

Crash tilted his head again. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I? Also, huge man.” 

Metal couldn’t help himself but let out another, shakier sigh this time. His ears flattened. This conversation felt all-too familiar to the cutterbot, and he hated it. “Crash… wait, what?” He just registered the tail end of what he said. 

The drillbot gestured with his free drill and pointed past Metal. “Huge man, behind you.” 

Metal turned around to see what he was talking aboWOAH TITS. “Crash, what do you mean b– HELLO??” He suddenly squawked. He found himself staring directly into a man’s gigantic chest. 

“Aye, my eyes are up ‘ere.” The huge man behind him joked, sporting a jovial sailor’s voice. “And sorry for interruptin’ yer conversation, ‘was not my intention.” He added sympathetically.

The cutterbot fumbled mentally to say anything coherent in response, but honest to everything, he couldn’t even see this man’s eyes even if he tried. This person was WAY too tall to be a human man, he was practically the same size as Air! He sported white armor with blue accents, what looked like a white captain’s… hat, from what he could see, and a black bodysuit underneath. His chest armor was seemingly HUGE, as it specifically resembled the bow and hull of the front of a boat. He spotted an airbrushed abbreviation on one of his shoulder pauldrons: ‘S.S. RURTN’. 

Metal stared up at the man in a mix of awe and leftover anxiety. Yeah no, he could not see this man’s face from this angle. “It– it-it’s– it’s okay.” Metal stammered, staring up at this huge man indeed. Amidst the trainwreck of his mental and emotional state, his fans began to work audibly louder and he felt his face heating up. I’m wearing my mask, right? RIGHT? He idly slapped a hand to his own face and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. “Are you the. The. Uh.” 

“Are you the Captain?” Crash asked behind him, completing his sentence. Thank you Crash, Metal thought. 

“Aye, I am a captain. But who’s asking? I be here only to pick up some guests on account of a ‘bot by the name of Time Man.” The huge man answered. He looked at Crash expectantly, seemingly unaware of where Metal’s voice was coming from. 

“You’re the Captain we’re looking for then! Time Man sent us your way,” Crash explained. 

“Ah, perfect then! ‘S nice to meet you two, then–” The huge man had thrusted his arm forward to offer the drillbot an unironic handshake, only to accidentally punch Metal instead. “Oh shit!” He bent over to lean down and finally took notice of the cutterbot, who was splayed on the ground. “Ah, my deepest apologies! I didn’t realize you were standing so close to me. I can’t exactly see below my chassis, haha. Are you alright, lad?” 

Metal did his best to express that he’s completely, absolutely okay right now. It came out as an incoherent mumble. 

Crash blinked at him. “I think he’s alright.” He said after a few seconds. 

“Thank Neptune.” The man sighed, before standing up straight and holding his hand out to the drillbot again. “I am Captain Sea of the Blue Tigress, but you Wilybots can just call me ‘Sea’.” 

Crash stared at the Captain’s hand for a moment. “U-uh. I-I don’t really do handshakes, ahah… I’ve got drills for hands.” 

“Nonsense, lad. Drills or hands, we can still shake.” The jolly captain replied. 

“I, u-um, okay?” Crash offered hesitantly, extending his drill out to him. Sea casually took his drill and shook it like it was nothing. And shook the rest of Crash in the process, too. PIPiT squeaked in surprise and flapped its wings. “I-I’m Crash Man, by the way. And that’s Metal,” Crash said afterwards, regaining his composure again. 

“And the blue one?” Sea asked. 

“Oh! This is Flash, but. Uh… he’s offline right now.” 

“Worse for wear, and frosty, too! We’ll hafta dry yer pal in the morning, then.” Sea simply said, before offering his hand again. “I can carry him, if you like. …and maybe yer other pal here, too.” 

“I’M FINE. I’M FINE!!” Metal suddenly shouted, practically springing himself back onto his feet and wobbling only a little. He hoped to everything that nobody could hear his stupid fans blasting internally. 

“I think we’re good, Captain.” Crash declined. He smiled a little as Metal looped an arm around his own for support. 

“All’s well, then. Are y’all ready to board, then? It’s better to get out of ‘ere before the sun rises again.” Sea asked the two Wilybots. “And my dear Lady is rarin’ to go, too. I don’t want to keep her waiting too long.” He gestured with his hand to his Lady, one of the nearby ships docked currently. It looked to be a vessel of ambiguous purpose, but… most boats were ambiguous to Metal, honestly. Maybe he could ask Bubble about it once they find him and get him back online.  

“Aye! I’m ready to go!” Crash chirped, jostling Metal a little. 

“Yes, let’s go.” Metal said, focusing entirely on the ship and not its captain. 

“Haha, excellent! Let’s set sail, lads!” 

The sun had risen once more, and the two Wilybots had disappeared from Europe entirely. The ocean waves had gently rocked all those resting aboard the Blue Tigress, and the morning had uneventfully passed without issue. 

The wine-red Wilybot had awoken to gentle rocking and swaying, and the smell of salt in the air. His systems slowly came online again, one component at a time. His optics opened slowly and for a moment, he didn’t recognize where he was. He tiredly looked around, before his memory databanks gave him the answer again. Right… he was returning back to Monsteropolis with Crash and Flash. He and Crash had tuckered out near-immediately into one of the guest cabins Captain Sea had offered them. 

Metal glanced around. They had thrown themselves into reinforced hammocks that looked to be designed with Robot Masters in mind. He carefully crawled out of the hammock and regained his footing amidst the rocking of the boat. He glanced at Crash. The orange drillbot was tucked into his own hammock, soundly asleep. PIPiT was held in his arms, also asleep. I wonder if they share the same sleep schedule when they’re synced, Metal thought to himself. He looked down and found his shoulder-blades were tossed on the floor by his feet. He reached down and reattached them to his body. 

He and Crash were accounted for, along with PIPiT, and… Metal’s eyes narrowed as he looked around the cabin. Where was Flash? 

He carefully made his way through the narrow hallway of the vessel’s interior, passing a small dining area and a few sets of stairways, as well as a small lift elevator. He found the set of stairs that finally led to the deck of the boat and he quickly brought a hand up to give his optics time to readjust to the sudden change in lighting. 

Metal’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. There was no land or civilization in sight: they were completely surrounded by deep blue waters and ocean. The sun was shining brightly. 

The deck was busy with robotic life: small, cubic robot subordinates managed the daily duties of the ship, cleaning and bringing supplies and crates to and from on little wheels. Near the bow of the vessel, her captain stood along the side railing. He was assisting a group of his subordinates with cleaning duties and– was that an anchor on his back?? Metal stared hard at the Captain. He HAS to be at least as strong as Guts Man if he can lug an anchor around while still assisting his subordinates. 

The jovial captain stood back up and wiped some sea spray off of his face and armor. “Phew! ‘Sun’s beatin’ mighty hard today, lads. Let’s finish this up before y’all dry up on me!” He was met with an assortment of digitized “aye-aye”’s as his subordinates picked up their chores quicker than before. 

The huge man turned around and his gaze fell upon Metal Man, who ripped his own gaze away from the Captain as fast as he could. The captain flashed a big, confident grin his way and closed the distance between them, effortless navigating around his busy subordinates. “Good morning!!” He shouted Metal’s way, making the cutterbot wince slightly. “And welcome aboard the Blue Tigress, officially! How’re ya feeling, lad!” 

“M-morning.” Metal said stiffly. “I’m alright. What time is it, and how far are we? I don’t see any land in sight.” 

“13:00, and we’ve only just started making progress! We’ve a long while before we reach Monsteropolis.” Sea answered. 

Metal’s eyes widened again. “What do you mean by that? How long is it gonna take to get back?! Is the boat going fast?” He looked out at the endless ocean around them. 

“Lad, we’re crossing the Atlantic Ocean. How big do you think that is? My Lady’s sailin’ at a steady sixteen knots, so we’ll be arriving at the big city in…” Sea double-checked his own calculations. “...I’d say about eight or nine days.” 

The cutterbot’s ears flattened at the news. Over a week?? “Eight or nine days…” Metal repeated to himself. 

“Aye. It’s not as bad as it may seem, honest! Even to a land-lover like yerself.” Sea added further. “From the way that ray of sunshine Time Man spoke of you two, it seems like you two were in somethin’ of a situation before I grabbed you. Havin’ a week to yerselves might help yer situation out, whatever it may be. At the very least, you can relax with no drama or humans; only the shinin’ sun, the beautiful ocean, and the wind.” 

Metal brought a hand up to his chin. The sea captain did bring up a valid point. A week would pass by, with next-to-no additional evidence or clues leading the humans to them as potential suspects for the explosions. And maybe… would a week be enough for the human public to generally stop caring, too? He and Crash would have effectively ‘disappeared’ for that whole time, back into the shroud of mystery to them. 

And he wouldn’t have to deal with them for at least a whole week. There’s nothing out here but the shining sun, the ocean, and the wind. 

He lightly sighed. “I suppose you have a point there.” He brought his gaze back to Sea’s now-visible face. “You didn’t see the news report about us?” He asked. 

Sea laughed boisterously at the cutterbot. “I’ve never watched the news not even once in my life!” He laughed. “It don't have anything that usually concerns me.” 

Not even once? As far as the cutterbot has been aware these past few weeks, there were quite a lot of news reports concerning nearly all of robotkind in some manner. But… then again. If this man is at sea and away from society altogether normally, it… doesn't really matter all that much then, huh? Metal pondered to himself. He frowned behind his mask. 

“You… do know that we’re Doctor Wily Numbers, right? You’re not alarmed about helping us?” Metal asked cautiously, only to be laughed at again by the captain. His frown deepened as his cheeks heated up behind his mask again.  

“Nah, I don’t give a right shit about any ‘a that! Light ‘bots, Wily ‘bots, it’s none ‘a my business, nor do I care. I’ve never even met that Doctor Light, hah!” Sea barked. “All I know is that I help out people in need, and you two sounded like people needin’ help.” 

Metal wasn’t sure how to feel about that, nor the fact that he and Crash seemingly looked helpless enough to warrant this complete stranger’s help. Clearly, this robot wasn’t a Lightbot, by any means. Maybe… Metal exhaled through his mask vents. Maybe this wasn’t so bad then, actually. “There’s three of us.” The cutterbot corrected him. “Where’s Flash?” He asked. 

“Ah! Yer dead friend’s over there meltin’ and dryin’ off all that frost. Up on the bridge.” Sea gestured behind Metal, who turned and spotted Flash’s body fastened and propped up to face the sunlight, up above the deck and cabins, on the bridge of the ship. The captain and his crew seemed to have put some kind of adhesive tape over what Metal Blade lacerations covered the timestopping Wilybot. Metal blinked at the sight, and sighed. 

“Well… I… appreciate what you are doing for us. Even though you don’t know any of us.” Metal resigned. 

“Of course! ‘S my pleasure!” Sea chirped, raising a hand up to lift the brim of his ‘hat’ a little. The sun gleamed and bounced off of his wet, white armor. Metal looked away from the huge man. 

“I think I’m going back inside for now.” Metal said, turning around to take his leave. He needed time to fully process the past 48 hours. 

“Aye, and let me know if you need anything from me or my crew! If I ain’t here, I’m up at the helm in the control room! First set ‘a stairs on the left, next to the lift!” Sea called out after him. 

Metal simply lifted up a hand in acknowledgement. He was going back to bed. 

The days passed by… rather uneventfully. It was something that he wasn’t used to, in the slightest: it actually felt jarring to the cutterbot. Even before his previously short life was flipped completely upside-down by Doctor Light, he almost always had tasks to fulfill and keep himself busy with at Wily Castle II. He had checklists to review, inspections to perform, and he carefully considered how his free time should be spent each waking day. Perhaps as an afterthought, when he had been working hard daily to make Doctor Wily’s vision into a reality. 

But now… now, there was just too much free time, and not enough tasks given to him. There probably wouldn’t ever be enough tasks given to Metal for the rest of his questionable existence. No. As far as he was currently aware, there were no Doctors to ever give him tasks again, at least for the foreseeable future. It was an uncertainty that left Metal feeling more anxious than relaxed, and more dread than peace. 

This is new, and Metal Man did not like new . 

This time passed had also given him much insight into how this nautical Robot Master lives his day-to-day life. Each day, his routines consist of helping out his subordinates (he learned they were called “Lil’ Bowies”), checking the control room to keep the vessel on a steady path and speed, checking the engine room and assisting with maintenance of the vessel, checking the weather extensively, and by the looks of today, he and his subordinates were fishing with nets to sell and profit later. Perhaps, maybe out of that mental itch to have tasks to perform, Metal found himself assisting with cleaning and maintenance duties. He found himself inspecting Flash Man’s body whenever he was alone in their guest cabin. He found Crash Man eagerly following around the sea captain. It didn’t take a genius for him to tell that Crash admired something about him. To himself, the captain was… hm. Was zany a fitting description? Zany, but… I can’t deny that he is efficient in what he does. He values his subordinates and keeps an effective rotating schedule to ensure all of them are in optimal condition, as well as to ensure the vessel’s peak performance. It almost rivaled Metal’s own efficiency and competency in keeping his Factory productive and running until the very end. It’s… commendable. 

But he was NOT going to wear a little sailor hat, like Crash eagerly wore on top of his helmet. 

The wine-red cutterbot sighed lightly to himself. They had finished all their cleaning duties earlier than expected this morning, leaving himself with little to do to pass the time. …He should’ve brought something with him, in case he was going to find himself in a situation like this. Metal got up from his rest in his cabin, but paused briefly. Wait a second, he did bring something with him just in case he found himself aimlessly lost and bored! He picked up his backpack and made his way out of his cabin. 

He entered the seldom-used dining room and sat down in one of the seats. He opened his backpack and dug around in its contents. Stolen clothes, spare E-tanks, Flash’s belongings… a-ha! He pulled out what he was looking for from the very bottom of the backpack: Advanced Robotics Design Philosophy, Volume II: Doctor Wily Numbers (10th Edition). For what looked to be a textbook of sorts, this book was considerably thinner than what he had expected. Or… well, maybe it was to be expected, since his Doctor never revealed his secrets to naysayers and enemies. 

Metal opened the book and briefly skimmed through its table of contents; unsurprising to him, there seemed to be very little information garnered on himself nor his linemates— well, with one blaring, large exception. Air has his own section of this book? Metal thought, wide-eyed. The rest of the book didn’t highlight such importance nor emphasis to any other Wily Number here. He was too curious NOT to know what had been said about his dear friend, and the rest of his linemates. He flipped immediately to the section dedicated to his line. 

There was… only a single paragraph written about him. There were no images of him, either. 

DWN-009 Metal Man

Not much is known about this Robot Master, other than its Special Weapon, the ceratanium Metal Blade. Leading field Roboticist Doctor Thomas Light had answered in an interview with Robotics Monthly in December 200X, “...it was probable that his build utilized elements from Cut Man’s design, when Doctor Wily had reprogrammed him two years ago. From the specifications he was willing to share with me during our collaboration, Metal Man had been essential to the construction and optimization of a handful of our shared Doctor Light-Wily Numbers.” [3] (See pg. 37-39, pg. 52)  

Metal reread through the paragraph again, wide-eyed. Doctor… Light-Wily Numbers…? What…?

He kept reading through the paragraphs detailing his linemates. There was next-to-no information on Bubble, just like himself. Metal sighed… Thank goodness. Quick had an image attached to his portion, albeit it showing him as nothing more than a red blur in an arid environment. It gave a brief overview of his light frame, his Special Weapon, and described his superspeed as ‘otherwise impossible to our current technological limits’, commending Doctor Wily for his yet-to-be-understood scientific breakthroughs. Metal rolled his eyes and skipped the rest of his paragraphs. Flash and Heat lacked almost any information about them, just like himself. He spotted an interesting blurb about Crash in his part: 

…further information on DWN-013 Crash Man has yet to be discovered, let alone accessible. The base of operations which DWN-013 Crash Man operated within has been declared a Category-5 Hazard Zone by the United States Federal Government in September 200X [10], and state government officials of New Monstero have since put out warnings to all humans not to trespass into this area, for public safety. [11] [12] [13]

Metal smirked to himself. Good. And now they’re never getting their hands on him. 

To his surprise, Wood also had very little information about him as well; there was mainly a paragraph vaguely describing his appearance and stature, and two paragraphs dedicated to the functionality and innovation of his Leaf Shield. Metal was almost hesitant to flip the page; if so little had been said about the rest of his linemates, why did Air have an entire section written about him. The cutterbot softly exhaled through his mask and flipped the page. 

He read thoroughly through the next few pages. There were images of Air’s likeness captured, in surprisingly decent quality; showing off his buster arm and his fan, as well as the aerial fleet he commanded. It described his Air Shooter in great detail. There was a paragraph detailing Doctor Light and Megaman’s best understanding of the weapon. But to Metal’s greater attention, there were entire pages dedicated to how his unique build was an important and innovative game-changer to the advanced robotics scientific community five years ago. That Air’s experimental design, and the design of a Robot Master named Needle Man, paved the way for an entirely new type of Robot Master altogether. 

A hand lifted up for Metal to rest his helmeted cheek upon. While he was… admittedly afraid that the humans had public access to this information– they knew what Air looked like– , another part of him was delighted that they could at least recognize a well-designed Robot Master when they saw one. Air’s build was exceptional– he was perfect in design, and an absolute terror in aerial combat. He had few, if any flaws, in Metal’s humble opinion. 

Metal paused momentarily… and let out a soft sigh. Air was so much more of a capable Wilybot than he could ever hope to be. What would he think of him now…? 

He closed the book, and put it back in his backpack. He could read about the newer Wilybots another time. 

He made his way up to the deck, only finding it in himself to give a silent wave to the Bowies who acknowledged or greeted him. He leaned against the side railing of the deck, and looked out at the endless expanse of ocean. His body vents expelled excess air into the salty air. He tried his best to relax, but his mind had other plans as it wandered. This kind of sight… The skies and ocean took him back… … 

… 

… 

- - - - - 

“What do you think?” 

“I… don’t have an accurate word in my vocabulary to describe it.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“...I don’t know. I’ve never thought about that before. It’s certainly not a common sight, at least.” 

“...is that something that you value?” 

“I… suppose I do. …I think I do like this. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” 

“I’m glad, Metal.” 

“I’m glad, too. Thank you.” 

“...” 

“...”

“...May I confide something with you, Metal?” 

“Of course.” 

“...I was actually… anticipating this moment. I had been looking forward to showing you this.” 

“Really…?” 

“Yes. I had wanted to return your gesture from the month prior, though I had not been sure how to do such a thing. I had recently read in some human literature that showing a ‘breathtaking’ sight to another was considered a gift in itself.” 

“Air, I… did not know that you had appreciated my gesture to that extent. This is… I do not know the word for this.” 

“...” 

“...but I would like to view this more with you.” 

- - - - -  

… 

Metal rested a hand on his forehead blade. His brows furrowed and his ears lowered a little. 

Oh, Air… where are you now?  

In his digital mind, maybe if he overlayed one of the still frames from his memory databanks over his optical GPU, he could envision Air’s ship valiant cutting through the clouds above him and soaring effortlessly through the blue sky. He could envision his armada of aerial combat units and warships tailing behind his commanding ship. He could imagine the humans’ feeble attempts to take his forces down, only to be eliminated by his fleet’s collective power, and the raw force of his friend’s Air Shooter as Air himself took to the skies to personally join the battle– 

But any further thought of that was cut short by a warm steel hand slapping his shoulder. The cutterbot flinched hard, restraining himself from jumping as high as he could as a flight response. He whipped his head towards the intruder and was met with the sight of broad robotic chest again. 

“Oi, lad… how’re you holdin’ up here?” Sea asked him, at a surprisingly quieter volume. 

“I’m alright…” Metal answered, looking back at the ocean again once he recognized he wasn’t being attacked. 

“Are you sure, lad? You’ve been having that distant look in yer eyes today. Yer not even attached to yer cute orange pal! ‘S everything well up here?” The captain followed up with a light tap to the cutterbot’s head. 

Metal’s eye twitched. “Don’t touc– Don’t do that, please. I’m… I don’t know. Just thinking lately.” 

Sea chuckled. “I’d argue that yer thinking near all the time, actually.” 

Metal simply huffed in response, but the captain was more patient than he expected. He… wasn’t going to leave him alone until he said something, didn’t he? His gaze on the ocean relaxed a little. “How long have you been sailing, Sea?” 

The usually-jolly captain leaned forward slightly, and leaned onto the side railing next to Metal. “Ever since I was a newbuilt myself. I’ve been sailing around the world for… well, I just turned 3 a few months ago, so 3 years.” 

The wine-red Wilybot nodded to himself. “Hmm.” Like the waves that gently rocked the boat today, a wave of melancholy had slowly washed over the cutterbot. “Sea, have you ever seen an airship in your travels? In the water, I mean.” Metal added hastily after that, “I’m asking for a friend.” 

The sea captain pursed his lips for a moment. “Hm. Can’t say I have.” 

The cutterbot had seemingly deflated a little next to him, his ears drooping a little. “I figured as much.” Metal said dejectedly. 

Sea looked his way. “How big are we talkin’ of an airship?” 

“Huge, outfitted with turrets and guns. Giant turbine fans on the sides.” 

“Aye. I’ll keep an eye out for you if I ever do spot one like that.” 

“It’s appreciated.” But Metal’s melancholy subsisted.

The captain looked at him with a glint of sympathy flashing across his eyes. “Are you hungry any?” 

“No. I don’t feel hunger the way that humans do.” 

“I know that, lad. No robots get hungry the way humans do. It’s a luxury for us all! But… I’ve hauled a mighty fine catch today, and I’ve been thinking of treatin’ you and yer excitable pal. As a thanks for all the help you’ve done for my crew and I.” Sea said, smiling at his small guest. 

Metal turned to look at him again, surprised. “Oh– it’s nothing, really. You don’t— you don’t need to go that far just because we helped with some chores.” 

“Nonsense. Any good act should get a little something, be it acknowledgement or a hearty meal. It’s what I do for my crew, y’know?” 

Metal’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not part of your crew?” 

“Aye, but yer both jumpin’ in and helpin’ like you are! And if I’m not mistaken, yer little orange friend’s got an appetite that rivals a human’s.” Sea teased the cutterbot, smiling wide. 

Well… it would make Crash happy, wouldn’t it? Metal thought to himself. “I… alright. But I’m not okay just wasting your catch on myself and Crash. Let me earn it, too.” 

The jolly captain’s smile morphed into a grin. “Aye.” 

Metal leaned against the wall in a dimly-lit kitchenette. He personally didn’t think of himself as worthy of eating any of the medium to large freshly-caught fish that Sea had fished up earlier. Not when the captain had shown the two of them nothing but kindness and hospitality, despite them being Wily Numbers. Not when he very well may have saved the two of them from a whole myriad of consequences and uncertainties. Even if he felt like Crash would’ve disagreed with him. The drillbot simply seemed elated at the premise of eating seafood right out of the water. 

He would put in his share of work. He didn’t know how to fish, but he at least knew how to prepare food. He knew how to cook. 

Doctor Wily still needed to eat, even while he had been plotting out the details of his world domination scheme. And before any other Second was even active, Metal was there to keep him healthy and well-fed. He administered his medicine and prepared meals for him like clockwork, though the Doctor did have some specific preferences… 

The door to the tiny kitchen slid open and revealed the captain before him. Metal blinked at him in mild surprise. That armor actually comes off? The jolly captain was outfitted with a simple shirt and black apron over his armorless torso. His eyes darted to the apron that he held out for him next, and wasted no time in putting it over his own armor. He then watched the captain leave and come back with a number of chilled medium-sized fish in his grip. The cutterbot was gestured over to the kitchenette counter and cutting boards. 

“So, lad. ‘You know how to cook?” Sea had asked him. 

“I would say I do.” Metal says. “What are you going to make with these fish?” 

“I’d say somethin’ simple, to appreciate the taste of the fish wholly,” Sea suggested. “Maybe some seared fillets and a stew.” The taller man then grinned at him. “Yer pal tells me you know a thing or two around a blade. I’d like to see what you can do.” 

“Understood.” Metal nodded, turning to the cutting board. There were a variety of culinary utensils and tools strewn along the wall and counter, but cutting fish into usable slices and sections was simple enough with his Metal Blades. A decently sized fish was laid out for him, and Metal materialized a Metal Blade in his hand. With expert precision, the wine-red Wilybot had sectioned the fish into evenly-sized pieces with clean cuts from his Special Weapon. There was nothing that ceratanium blades couldn’t cut, especially if the material was organic. 

He looked at his work proudly. “How’s that for cutting?” Metal boasted. 

“Truthfully told, I was expecting you to use a knife, for starters.” Sea answered, getting a questioning look from the cutterbot. The captain scooped up the tail and head segments and set them aside. “These’ll be good for the fish stock, but you’ve still gotta prepare the good bits. Remove the innards and bones and fins, descale it, and turn the meat into fine fillets.” 

“...Right…” Metal said, quieter now. Right. This wasn’t a prepared steak or simple vegetables; there were more steps he needed to take. And… was it truthfully strange to use your Special Weapon for a task like this? But… maybe the captain was right to some degree. His Metal Blades were designed to tear apart robots with fearsome accuracy, speed, and force. The fish cutlets in front of him did not need fearsome cuts and chops. It needed a gentle, slow kind of precision in order to be made readily-edible. He stared at the thick chunks of fresh fish he had just rendered now with rapidly waning confidence in himself. 

Metal nervously glanced at the knives lined up along the farther side of the table. There were knife shapes and sizes here that Metal was entirely unfamiliar with. Amidst them, he did spot a familiarly-sized steak knife. He reached for the smaller knife. 

He looked at the fish chunks and hesitated. Where… should he even begin with this? He felt his cheeks heating up again behind his mask. So much for knowing how to cook. He was making a complete embarrassment out of himself right now, holding a steak knife like a fool. The cutterbot stared at the chopped fish as if he could magically make it prepare itself. Eventually, the cutterbot gave in to his lack of confidence. “I. I-I, um. Don’t have a lot of experience with seafood.” He finally admitted to the captain. 

“I figured as much.” Sea said, which only made the cutterbot feel more like a fool. “Here, start with this one. That’s more of an eatin’ knife than a butcherin’ one.” He was passed a larger, much smoother knife. He could tell with a quick glance that this was more than sharp enough to pierce most parts of this fish. “Yer gonna want to cut along the underside here, like this. We’re not eatin’ the innards, so don’t be scared to put some force in your cut if you gotta.” Metal followed as the captain instructed, watching the knife slide through the fish with almost no effort. “Good, just like that. Next, yer gonna want to remove the scales. Lemme show you what I do ‘ere…” 

The cutterbot left the kitchen that evening, feeling a strange combination of residual embarrassment, and some mild pride in what he could at least do. A hand rested on his head. What kind of cutting robot was he if he didn't even know how to use blades and cutting tools outside of his Special Weapon properly? The fact that a non-cutting robot today was more knowledgeable and skilled with blades than he was… Metal wished he could take his shame and chew right through it the way Crash devoured his meal today. 

He shook his head to no one in particular. At the very least, his linemate seemed blissfully unaware of his plight and didn't question him on it; if he had to explain himself on top of everything else, he'd consider throwing himself headfirst into the water. 

Crash was ecstatic over their collective cooking, at least. Where Metal lacked in meal prep knowledge, he made up for it with his choice of ingredients and seasonings. He insisted that Sea should give the fillets more than just salt: he borderline-begged the sea captain, and it paid off. Sea himself was pleasantly surprised at the taste. Its boldness was accented by the herbs, vegetables, and lemon he picked out, getting the seal of approval from the hungry drillbot. The stew was leaps and strides ahead of the simple seared fillets in flavor. Crash described it as “good but tastes strong”. 

Metal huffed to himself. He knew fully well that he already had more to learn about the culinary world, but tonight humbled him. He was going to learn how to use every knife, and how to use them for every meal he cooks from now on. What remained of his pride in his identity stoked the flames within his core. 

“Oi, oi, there you lads are!” The jovial captain called out to the two Wilybots. “Get over ‘ere, quickly!” 

Crash grinned and pushed a groggy Metal Man forward. “C'mon, Metal!” The cutterbot grumbled. 

“Good morning, lads!! I've got some news that I think the two of you'll like!” Sea shouted amidst his big obnoxious smile. The wine-red Wilybot's ears flattened. 

“What's the news?” The two Wilybots said in unison in wildly varying attitudes. 

The captain lifted a hand up to shield the sun's glare from his peripheral vision, and sported a wide grin on his face. “My Lady’s making great progress lately! By my new numbers, I’d say we’ve only got around just a day left before yer voyage is over, and we land in Monsteropolis.” 

Metal let out a sigh of relief, while Crash parroted the captain’s own grin, baring his sharp teeth. “WOOHOO!” Crash hooted, running over to the bow of the vessel, and leaning against the guardrail. Metal couldn’t really deny the truth that the combined excitement between Crash and the jolly captain helped to lift up his own mood a little, despite the uncertainties looming over them. He slowly made his way over to his orange linemate, and soon, the captain joined them too. 

“Feel that wind! Days like these make me happy as a clam!” Sea said. “We’ve had great luck with the weather this week, lads. Today’s no exception.” He then reached his hands up, and to the cutterbot’s surprise, the jolly captain removed his hat…helmet… thing. Short, smooth white hair blew in the cool summer breeze. 

Without any hesitation, Crash copied the captain and with surprisingly little effort, removed his own helmet with his drills, to the cutterbot’s more acute surprise. The short orange Wilybot sported two-toned fluffy short hair: white hair on top of shorter, darker hair. With the ever-present shadow over his face finally lifted, the drillbot’s many freckles and big teal eyes were in full view. Compared to when Metal last saw Crash without his helmet 2 weeks prior, this was a pleasant surprise. 

He found the drillbot smiling his way, and looking at him expectantly next. “C’mon, Metal,” Crash said, “You’ve gotta feel the sun and wind! It’s really nice when it goes through your hair.” 

The cutterbot hesitated for a moment. “Uh…” He didn’t particularly see any immediate reasons to remove his helm, but… what was that look Crash was giving him? Why were his eyes so big and shiny? …the wine-red Wilybot huffed and retracted his mask. He flashed Crash a little smile. There was no reason to, but there was also no reason not to. Sure, why the hell not. “Alright, alright. Don’t give me that look.” He joked. 

He carefully gripped his helmet with both hands and slowly slid it off, revealing long, thick and choppy dark hair. He brought a free hand under his locks to let his hair go free in the wind. Being helmetless also revealed two more facial scars on Metal’s face: one over his eyebrow, and another cutting through his jawline and jaw stubble.  

…Crash was right: The wind did feel pleasant going through his hair. His shy smile grew and the cutterbot relaxed, leaning over the guardrail with his linemate. The water today seemed to sparkle amidst the bright sunshine. 

“Woah…” Crash said looking at Metal, and his hair bristling in the wind. “You’ve got all that under your helm? I would’ve thought you’d have shorter hair.” 

“Well… I can’t exactly grow it back if I cut it.” Metal replied. “I wasn’t expecting your hair to match your visor. It looks nice.” 

The drillbot blinked, surprised, before a wider smile graced his freckled face. “Thanks! Your hair looks nice too!” 

Metal simply grunted in acknowledgement. Their journey back to Monsteropolis was almost coming to an end. The cutterbot felt… uneasy, but he couldn’t deny that what the captain and Crash both said rang true. It was harder to worry without humans around, and with nothing but the beautiful summer ocean all around them. He can worry about everything tomorrow; at the very least, he can enjoy today with a day full of reading, sailing, and fishing.