Chapter Text
MegaMan had snuck out multiple nights in the last month. It was hard at first, leaving Tom alone in the tiny apartment, but he was out cold most of the time anyway. Once he got to snoring, it was just a matter of creeping out silently like any rebellious kid. The trick was swinging the creaky door open in time with his father’s snores. Giving Rush the slip wasn't hard either: Mega just had to tire him out during the day so that his battery needed to recharge through the night.
MegaMan slipped into the hall outside the run down tenement. Each night he ventured out, he gained more confidence, traveling further from home. Many nights were spent scoping out the surveillance cameras that seemed to point down every street and through every window, but Mega cleverly slipped through the shadows. His super-human senses aided him, and he felt like a secret agent from the old novels on his father’s shelves.
After several minutes and many sets of stairs, he was on the streets. It was like a ghost town, but he'd never been out under any other conditions. With great trepidation, he peered around a corner of an alley he’d never explored. At the end of the street, a camera pointed straight at him. He froze for a second before realizing the tiny LED indicator was not lit on this camera. Offline! What a stroke of luck. This street was safe, at least for now.
After checking around for another moment, he stepped from the shadows and let the moon shine on his face. One single light, off to the side and at the end of the lane, caught his eye. It glowed from a low window near the road. A tiny sign hung from the awning above; Mega focused his eyes to see some scrawled lettering with an arrow pointing down to the window.
JUNK & SCRAP
Now, this was interesting! It was rare to see a light on anywhere with how strict the curfew laws were, let alone something resembling a business. Mega scanned the street one more time to check for any hint of a patrol, and made his way quickly towards the sign. Underneath, there was a small set of crooked stairs leading down to a garden-level door. Sure enough, the light was on.
Mega felt his internal temperature rise as he started the calculations. Was it a trap…? If so, what a bizarre one to set. Few people would care about this business, and even fewer people were out late enough to even witness it. If it wasn’t a trap, then why were they open anyway? Even if the camera on this street was down, the patrols would still come down this alleyway… right?
---------------------------------------------------------------
ProtoMan sat in his usual seat in the gloomy lounge. There wasn’t much to do here, but at least it wasn’t the bowels of Wily Tower. It also wasn’t the crappy streets he was forced to wander night after night on patrol. It ALSO wasn’t Wily’s office, where Proto was forced to listen to Albert talk about his weird homoerotic experiences in college. No, here he was free. This place was his little secret.
The man that owned the underground section of this row home was terrified the first time Proto walked in. The light had been left on, so it was his martial responsibility to look into it, but he didn’t care that much about enforcing the rules. After a brief altercation, Proto and the man who ran the place– Proto called him Shopkeep, no bother to remember a name– cut each other a deal. Proto was allowed to hang out here any night he liked, and Shopkeep would never have any trouble if he stayed open late. This allowed Shopkeep to turn his business into a bit of a speakeasy, and he would get customers here and there on random nights to buy all manner of contraband. It was quite exciting for Proto, being part of this illegal operation, even though he tried not to show it.
He tried to avoid all attention possible, so Shopkeep set aside a special table in a darkened corner for him. He could see the door and the window from where he sat, but few could see him. Just the way he liked it.
He shuffled his old set of playing cards once again as the door opened. Shrinking back into the shadows, Proto looked up at the newcomer.
Whoever was standing in the doorway looked around in a daze, the single lightbulb above the door casting him in harsh light. Proto set down his cards gently, looking more closely at the stranger.
How on earth– What– What was he looking at? Surely not another robot standing in HIS secret special spot. It wasn’t a Wily bot, so… what was he looking at?
The stranger turned and looked right at ProtoMan. All of his internal systems felt a sudden chill. The robot standing in the light of the little lounge looked strikingly like himself. The two of them froze, staring at each other. The world seemed to drop away.
And then, as if nothing had happened, the robot in the doorway turned the other way and walked further into the building. What the fuck, man?
Proto finally leapt up from his seat and tailed the blue robot further into the store, where piles of junk lined the walls and took up room on the floor. It was hard to pick through, but that didn’t stop either of them.
“Can I help you?” Proto asked pointedly.
The other robot turned to face him. “Do you run this place?” Proto was sure it wasn't meant to sound threatening, but he felt defensive all the same.
The question only stopped Proto for a second. “Yes.” Silence filled the space between them. “No,” he tried again, a little heatedly. “But basically yes. What are you here for?”
“Can’t a guy come take a look at Junk and Scrap on his night walk?” The robot boy asked brightly as he picked up a bent exhaust fan and turned it over in his hands.
Proto tried to resist rolling his eyes. Both of them knew that “night walks” were not allowed– had not been allowed for years now– that this was some sort of stupid joke. He followed the robot further into the darkened store. He didn’t know why this was bothering him so much. This was HIS special spot!
“I guess you can, I can’t stop you.” Proto tried to play it off. “I just don’t think it’s very safe to go traipsing into anywhere that you aren’t familiar with, this late at night.”
“Do you not want customers?” The other robot was starting to sound irritated as well, rifling through a box of mismatched wires.
“Well, do you have money?”
It was the boy’s turn to roll his eyes, but a dejected look crossed his features as well. “Fine.” He put down the box of wires and pushed past ProtoMan, which was hard to do in the cramped space. Proto followed him back to the front room, where the boy was already making a beeline for the door. “Have a great night.” He was moping!
“Wait,” Proto called, but wasn’t sure what to say next. The robot turned to face him with a look of irritation and hurt that made him look childish. He’d seen that look before, in the mirrors of Wily Tower.
The boy waited for Proto to finish. The two of them looked at each other eye to eye again, and another shiver passed through him. When the bot realized there wasn’t going to be an end to Proto’s sentence, he opened the door and rushed through it, slamming it behind him.
Proto couldn’t focus on his card game for the rest of the night, and eventually headed back home in a huff.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Mega stomped back up the stairs and onto the street, barely remembering to check for danger. How disappointing, to have found such an interesting place– perhaps the only interesting place– only to have been immediately run out of it.
He considered the red robot he'd spoken with. Mega had never seen anything like it before, but what did he know? His whole world consisted of a tiny, cramped apartment, and these desolate streets, on the rare occasion he could slip out. Maybe there were hundreds of other robot residents that roamed the city, let alone the Wilybots that marched down every street. Maybe they weren't subjected to the same laws as the humans in this city. The possibilities were endless, and any of them seemed plausible to Mega. He had no knowledge of these things aside from the scant details that Light had told him about ProtoMan, who had died years ago. Probably only around half of that story was even true.
The rest of the evening felt so boring by comparison. He stayed out quite a bit longer than he usually would, in search of something else that would excite him just as much as the small underground building with the red robot clerk. No dice. Reluctantly, he slipped through the shadows back the way he came, to his tiny home with the only other person he'd ever spoken to. What a drag.
Mega was lost in thought the whole next day, and parts of the day after that. He couldn't get his mind off of the brief conversation he had. The other robot seemed mad at him. Mega didn't understand social foibles, so maybe he did something wrong… Was there a chance he could go back and fix his mistakes?
Dr. Light noticed that his son was adrift in his thoughts while they were playing poker that night. This was their usual routine to pass the time until Light got tired enough to trod off to bed. Rush lazed under the table between Mega and Light.
MegaMan tried not to meet his father’s eyes as he was thrown concerned looks over the cards. It was so distracting. As Mega discarded half his hand, Dr. Light cleared his throat.
“Son,” he began awkwardly, “is there something bothering you?”
Neither of them had ever been good with discussions about feelings. Mega wasn’t sure what to say. He surely didn’t want to tell his father that he’d been slipping out; his already very short leash would only get shorter. But clearly he couldn’t hide how he was feeling.
Mega sighed and looked at his father, eyes full of emotion. “I fold,” he said sheepishly, laying his perfect hand face down on the table. “Can we do something different tonight?”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Proto had also spent those next few days stewing. He had been avoiding Dr. Wily, but it was hard to dodge him for long. He paced the narrow, dramatic hallway that led into Wily’s office. It was mostly silent here; the office was more of an ornate status symbol used for broadcasts than an actual laboratory. Still, he heard footsteps, and stiffened for a second.
Pat pat pat pat pat pat. Small, rhythmic footfalls. It surely wasn't Wily, who liked to skip around the castle to get where he wanted. No, he’d know these footsteps anywhere. Tiny, rapid, padded steps approached him at what felt like mach speed for such a tiny robot. PersimMan couldn’t pump the brakes on the slick floors, so he bumped face first into Proto’s foot with a squeak.
PersimMan was the one and only thing that could break through Proto’s cold, cranky personality. Proto looked down at the tiny bot, waiting for him to recover. Persim shook his little head side to side, clearing what was likely a warning message or two on the inside of his visor. He looked all the way up, up, up at his older brother. He slowly stretched his arms above him, reaching for Proto. It made him look all too much like a bright orange teddy bear.
ProtoMan leaned over and scooped up his baby brother. Although he couldn’t speak, the two of them could still communicate perfectly. “Hello, my little orange,” he greeted the tiny bot. “I met someone new while patrolling a few nights ago. I can’t stop thinking about him.”
PersimMan cocked his head to the side, changing his center of gravity and almost knocking himself off balance.
“No, no, not romantic.” ProtoMan shook his head lightly and looked past his brother. “Another robot. I’ve never seen him before. I’ve never seen anything like him before.” That wasn’t entirely true. He was unsettled by how similar the robot looked to himself. He didn’t want to address it, but the thought kept creeping back in.
Persim was distracted by a bug flying by, and waved his arm to show ProtoMan.
“We… didn’t get to talk for long.” Proto was sure that Persim could sense a bit of shame over his behavior while he spoke to the blue robot inside Junk & Scrap. But he wouldn’t admit out loud that he had been a bit of a dick. “And I don’t know if we’ll cross paths again.”
PersimMan looked back at his big brother as the bug flew away down the hall. His visor revealed no emotion or indication of thought, as always.
“I suppose that's true… I may have missed my only chance at another friend… Not that you're not enough of a friend to me, Persim.” Maybe his years of isolation from anyone except Wily, the army bots, and PersimMan– his only real social enjoyment– made him adverse and overly wary of anyone new. Whatever the case may be, he may have royally screwed up.
ProtoMan was so lost in thought he began to drop his hands before he realized that PersimMan was beginning to fall. He scooped the little bot onto his shoulder, where Persim got comfortable in the folds of his poncho and slipped into low power mode. His battery couldn't last long, with how small it had to be.
Proto had a few options. He could patrol the city on his own; clearly the blue robot knew the streets well if he was able to slip undetected into the alleyway where Junk & Scrap was located. This may seem too threatening, and the other bot could even attack him before they got a chance to talk.
He could also use the surveillance equipment to try to zero in on the robot’s location. He would just have to try to keep any information that he collected out of Wily's hands. This may work, but he didn't want to use it as his first method of contacting the robot. It was too much of a Wily thing to do, and Proto tried to avoid any and all lines of thought that led back to the ruthless overlord.
That left his last option; go back to Junk & Scrap as many nights as he could and just… wait. He was already planning on doing this anyway, as it was his one reprieve from his stressful, monotonous life. He had to bank on the blue bot’s curiosity and dignity to draw him back to the store, but it was the best chance he had without using force.
The next time Proto stopped at a computer terminal in Wily Tower, he added himself to as many night time patrol routes as possible.
---------------------------------------------------------------
“Um…” Dr. Light rubbed the back of his neck and looked around their shared apartment. “I don’t see why not. What would you like to do?”
MegaMan sighed and also looked away from their card table. His eyes drifted towards the cramped, dusty bookcase, packed with old western novels and engineering textbooks and everything in between. “Will you… tell me a story? Like you used to?” He felt like an immature little kid for asking, but he knew it would comfort him after the swirling thoughts he’d had for the days prior.
He had expected more stories about the robot who was his brother. It had been years since his father had told him about ProtoMan. He felt like he knew so little, like Light had only given him small tastes of the full picture. After he’d seen another robot out in the city, he felt like he had earned more information. His father, however, had something else in mind.
Light’s face softened. He stood, walked to the bookshelf, and instead of selecting a book, he pulled out a worn photograph from between two titles. Mega had never seen it before. It was clearly very old: slightly yellowed, fragile around the edges, and dotted with oil stains. Dr. Light came closer to Mega with the photo and sat down on the floor next to him. Light held it between the two of them. Now that Mega could see it clearly, it was a picture of a young man. It was grainy and hard to identify, but the figure looked familiar. That face shape…
“This is a story about a man I used to know.” Mega’s father swallowed hard, his voice getting caught in his throat for a moment. “He and I were friends for a long… long, long time. A lifetime ago, we met while trying to create the first ever self-sustaining robots that could do the dangerous work that would kill human men like my father. Those original schematics were the starting point for what I put together to make you, all these years later.” Light playfully bumped his shoulder into Mega, who was still engrossed in the picture. “He was an incredible man. Brilliant, with ideas of how we could make life better. But he and I got into arguments frequently. We both wanted the best for the world, and for the people we loved. But we had different ideas of how to achieve that. Vastly different.” Light gently handed the worn photo to Mega as he looked out the window, as if it could show him memories of the past.
At this moment, as if in a stroke of fate, the massive screens on the building across from their apartment began to glow. Throwing light through the window, another broadcast from Wily Tower began, spewing the same nationalist lies about this city’s growth and abundance as always.
MegaMan stopped for a moment. He looked out the window to the screen, almost blinding against the smog hanging over the buildings. He looked back at the photograph. Back to the screen. Then, as if seeking answers, he looked at his father.
Light held his gaze firmly. Sadly.
Mega stood up and held the photograph to the window pane. If not for the shadow of decades passed between the images, they would have been perfect mirrors. He looked at his father once more, who smiled his same worn smile as always. He patted the floor next to him softly, indicating Mega to sit back down next to him. Light began talking again as he did so.
“We built a whole legion of robot workers together. We labored tirelessly for years to program them to be the perfect workers. We were going to make this city the bright, shining utopia it was always meant to be. And when everything was ready to go… he ripped the rug out from under me. He ended up not being the man I knew him to be in all the years we spent together.”
This was not the cheer-up story that MegaMan was hoping for. He leaned into his father, both of them now sadly holding each other up. This was a lot to process for one little robot in one night, on top of the confusing feelings he had after going to Junk & Scrap. He would set aside these emotions and new information and sort through them later. Looking down at the photograph of a young Albert Wily once more, he ran his thumb across a worn edge. The photo seemed like it had been ripped, only half of it still remaining.
“Dad…?” Mega knew how juvenile he sounded, but he felt that so much of his world had been turned on its head in the last few days. “Are there other robots out there? Like me?”
Light wrapped his arm around his son, finally giving him the comfort he was seeking.
“No.”