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(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail? Pt. 1: Reconfiguration	By : Gimp666 Category: +M through R > Mega Man Views: 3876 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own MegaMan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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(A)BORT, (R)ETRY, (F)AIL?

PART ONE: RECONFIGURATION

A/N: Wow… So much for weekly posts lol. Sorry guys, things have been absolutely crazy on my side here. They laid off about 2/3 of the agents at my call center, and then I got shifted and toggled around from department to department, and now I’ve got more work than I can shake a stick at LOL and oh god, so tired. On top of my other issues, I managed to pull something in my back again, so not only am I in pain a lot, but I wake up 2-4 times a night because of it. LOL but things are slowly turning around and hopefully soon I’ll have more time to throw toward this.

I would have posted it sooner, despite all this, but I actually just wrote these two scenes, because I felt that between the last chapter and the one after this, things just didn’t flow right. Anyway, go ahead and read.

Also, to any fanfiction readers/writers, this is from a student in the states, for a project. It would be really nice if you could take her survey. I did it, and it’s really short:

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=egL8uDC_2flsSivLFSB7eTGw_3d_3d

P.S – I find it ironic that the thirteenth chapter is the one where Forte’s luck finally runs out XD;;;; *dork*

“I can detatch myself from the world. If there is a better world to detatch oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it.”

~ P.G. Wodehouse

Chapter Thirteen – Luck

Wily sat back, spine quivering and throbbing with a near arthritic ache, admiring his work silently. It was nowhere near completion, of course, but he was making a fair amount of progress. A surprising amount, given his age and current health. Then again, he had always been very determined about these things. He still had a long way to go, but he was getting there and he knew it.

At first he thought he wouldn’t have enough time to finish and activate his work before his time came, but now things were starting to look up. He hoped his health held out long enough for him to get this one last robot finished. If he could just do that, he would be set for whatever was left of his life. Of course, if something did go wrong, he would have a back up plan. He always had a backup plan.

He could have gone on for a few hours more if he’d really wanted to, but tonight he was celebrating. He poured himself a drink, and toasted the still skeleton of the robot on the table. “To always winning.” He tipped the glass back, and let the cool liquid down his throat, burning all the way down. His face wore a smug, cocky grin because it was true, he had won again.

It had been so long since he'd sent a select few robot masters out to locate Forte that it had nearly slipped his mind. Even that wasn’t completely true, he reflected. It had been so long that he’d thought Forte had simply fled the country, maybe the entire Eastern hemisphere. The fact that one of his robots may have gotten away infuriated him. So, of course it was easier to just forget about it altogether, push it to the side indefinitely and simply disregard his defeat.

Then he had gotten the good news.

It had happened almost entirely by luck, he was sure of that. The robot master who had seen Forte hadn’t even been looking for him. Still, accident or not, he had been found. He couldn’t remember which robot it had been now, his memory had little hiccoughs like that now and again as he grew older, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

The robot master had finished his watch for the day, and was grabbing a bite to eat when he’d heard a very familiar voice yelling at someone angrily. Glancing casually over his menu, he had spotted none other than Forte, sitting on a stool and having a heated discussion with a dark haired boy. He seemed incredibly upset, and didn’t realize that one of his fellow robots was only a few feet behind him.

He would have attacked the little weasel right then, witnesses or not, but as Forte stood up and threw a handful of change on the table, he realized his fellow Wily bot was with none other than Rockman. As the two stormed out of the diner, seemingly calmed down a little, he trailed them slowly from a distance. Neither Rock nor Forte noticed, too busy giving each other the silent treatment, and they led him directly to Dr. Light’s laboratory without the slightest clue.

Wily smiled bitterly, unhappy with Forte’s poor choice of companionship, but at the same time it was so obvious he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it sooner. It made perfect sense, of course. After awakening to his destroyed companion, Forte’s survival instincts had kicked in and he’d decided to abandon ship with Gospel’s body in case he was repairable – he wasn’t, he’d seen to that personally.

Wily had been correct in his thinking that far, but what he hadn’t considered was how badly the little bastard wanted to see his support unit repaired. When he had heard about Gospel’s missing remains, he’d assumed that Forte had pulled some crazy stunt and had tried to repair Gospel on his own. Forte deeply hated Rock, so the thought that he would actually go to the person he hated the most to get his repair unit fixed was beyond his level of thinking.

When Forte had fled, he must have gone straight to Thomas Light and called some kind of a truce to get him to fix Gospel and possibly to seek sanctuary. He frowned, clenching his hands into fists angrily. If he had traded any information to stay there Forte would pay… He would pay over and over until he decided the debt was paid. After all, he could keep repairing him after being destroyed.

Still, it wasn’t too late. He knew Forte wouldn’t go anywhere without Gospel after having come so close to losing him, and the lupine model hadn’t been in his presence at the time he was spotted. That meant that Dr. Light’s efforts must have been lost on the support unit, and that was a good thing. If Forte still hadn’t left after that, it meant he wasn’t going to. And that worked perfectly for him.

It seemed that Forte had been at least half right, however. Even though Dr. Light had been unable to repair Gospel, it seemed they had taken Forte himself in. In fact it seemed he had found himself a little family, Gospel or no Gospel. He felt his lip curl in disgust at the thought. He had never understood Light’s desire to turn his robots into some kind of a pseudo family. He should have spent less time tinkering with his little boy styled robots, and more time tinkering with a woman if it was an heir he’d wanted.

He himself had never bothered much, one way or the other. Why concern himself with carrying on the family name? When he was finished, there wasn’t a man, woman, or child who wouldn’t know his name. Being infamous was more than enough for him. When he died, to hell with the world and everything in it. That was what this robot was really about. When he died, the world would no longer be his. If he couldn’t have it, neither could the rest of humanity. Their deaths would follow his.

He left the lab and drew his lab coat up against the cold, damp air, thinking. He would take care of Forte eventually, that much was certain, but for the time being it was actually beneficial to have him where he was, in his enemy’s lab. Forte wasn’t stupid, he was relatively sure that he wouldn’t talk about what he’d seen and what he’d thought he’d seen around the fortress. He would, however, tell him all about Thomas Light’s lab with a little persuasion. Forte always talked under duress.

So yes, for now he would allow it, allow Forte to stay with the Lights and play family until Wily was ready to reap the benefits of that living situation. He would be supervised, of course. He wasn’t a fool, he knew Forte instinctively hated Rock, and he also knew how paranoid his robot must be about being discovered. He couldn’t have Forte slip through his fingers, flee the continent in a moment of anger or fear.

To ensure everything went smoothly, he would have a robot master spying on the laboratory from a distance every minute until it was finally time to move in, gathering as much information as possible. Then he would retrieve Forte, and he would make him talk – sit down and have a private meeting. Or, if enough time had passed by then, Forte’s meeting would be with his new creation.

He chuckled to himself idly, heading to bed. However things went, he would make certain that losing Gospel was only the beginning of the bot’s worries. Nobody turned on Dr. Albert Wily.

~~~~~~~~~~

Forte sat up abruptly, a sheen of cold sweat covering his pale, naked flesh, shaking – was he shaking? He had just had the mother of all bad dreams. He pushed off the blanket he had been tangled in, frowning in frustration. Usually his dreams escaped him, seeping back to the depths of his memory banks before he could grasp them, but this time it held fast, and he was stuck with it for the time being.

“Calm down, jackass… you were dreaming.” He grabbed the shirt he had discarded when he’d crawled under the blankets on the couch, slipping it over his head and trying to will the cold sweat away, telling himself it was the real reason he was shivering. He pulled the covers over to him carefully, hugging them idly and letting his mind take him back, back to the dream he’d had.

He had been in his room again, his room back at the fortress. Everything was the same, down to even the smallest detail – books, lighting, cracks in the wall… Only one thing wasn’t the same, he wasn’t alone this time. There was a shadow, and upon turning to see who was sitting in the blankets next to him, he discovered Rock was there. That seemed to make everything better, everything somehow complete, and he grabbed onto the boy, burying his face deep in his neck, begging him to draw out the terror nearly paralyzing him.

Rock was as he had been before the situation at the diner, and he had murmured his familiar, comforting words, reassuring him of their friendship, asking him what it was bothering him so badly. He folded his arms around Forte, body warm and soothing, coaxing Forte to tell him what was so wrong.

Forte looked up at him with a kind of blind trust, wanting the comfort and security he was offering. Suddenly he was holding the tea cup in his hands all over again, and he stared down into his sepia reflection, fighting back the blockage building up in his throat. He let his eyes travel back up to the shorter boy, and he told Rock what had happened here, in this room, what Wily had done to him as he lay on the floor like some kind of animal. Told him everything.

After he let spill everything that had happened, everything souring inside his mind, he broke down sobbing, letting Rock stroke back his hair and working at regaining control of the situation. Finally he managed to quiet down enough to realize he heard another sound faintly. At first he thought it was the sound of tears, Rock’s crying. Then he recognized it for what it really was. Laughter. Rock had laughed at him.

He looked up at the boy, shocked, and what he saw made his heart drop and his blood run cold. Rock was grinning down at that, chuckling idly. He opened his mouth to ask him why, and the boy threw his head back, voice exploding into a loud bout of laughter. Only the laugh didn’t originate from the boy’s sweet voice. He knew that laugh all too well, it was the stale, raspy, and cruel laugh of Albert Wily.

He tried to shove him back, to remove himself from the situation, but the older robot grabbed him, holding him firmly in place and staring down at him with eyes far too cold to ever belong to Rock. The blank property in them terrified him, and he writhed against his grip, wanting nothing more than to get away. Then, before he could do anything else, Rock leaned toward him and pulled him into a vile parody of a kiss.

Forte cringed at the sharp stab of fear in his chest over the memory of the dream, frowning as goosebumps formed on his arms. No… He wouldn’t think about it. It was just a dream. He buried his face in his hands, frustrated, and pulled them back wet in surprised. It seemed that something other than the terror had carried over from his nightmare. He had been crying in his sleep.

He growled faintly in frustration and got up quietly, glancing at the clock. He’d hardly slept at all. He hadn’t been able to sleep since they’d gotten back from the diner two days ago. Two days since he’d talked to Rock. He didn’t need to be told that his behaviour was a by-product of his personal fears more than Rock’s reaction, but he didn’t know how to approach Rock about it. He didn’t know how to stop himself from slowly losing his sanity. It had to stop, but he didn’t know how.

He was depressed, but he couldn’t deal with that either, so he followed his first basic instinct and decided to remove himself from the situation. Go somewhere dark and cold, where he could fold in on himself until he either broke or buried everything deep inside, where he could hide it from himself. He’d tried to heal, and that had failed miserably.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, glancing out the window and into the dark void the backyard existed in at three in the morning. The worst part of the nightmare was that when he first woke up, he was still buried so deep in that state that he almost swore he saw a shadow outside his window, that he was being watched by some nymph from the realm of the dark dreams haunting him. But that was just a dream.

… Just a dream.
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(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail? Pt. 1: Reconfiguration