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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.

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

PART ONE: RECONFIGURATION

A/N: Late again .-. Been busy and filled with work filled angst. ;.; I might be getting laid off (right before x-mas, guh.) Or possibly switched to another department or possibly right out of HP and into Lenovo or AT&T (god no, please. p.q;;)

My amazingly awesome girlfriend challenged me to do a fic, so there’ll be a one shot popping up shortly. .-. Because of this and above mentioned stress (and some unmentioned stress too XD;), I didn’t bother spell/grammar/coherency check this chap, sorry. .-.

The lack of reviews makes me sad. ;; *hides in corner* And holy crap long chapter

“EVIL” is “LIVE” spelled backward

~Anonymous

Chapter Five – End of the Journey

Rock sat perched on the couch with his favourite blanket, relaxing and enjoying a late reheated supper. Light had finished repairing him a few hours ago, after his fight with Forte, and then the two had spent some time discussing what Forte had been up to at the time Rock had finally caught up to him and put a stop to whatever trouble he was fixing to start there.

The younger boy could stir up quite a bit of trouble on his own, and Rock had been prepared for complete pandemonium, but as far as he could tell, it had been nothing more than glorified shoplifting. Judging by what he had been taking, they had been for Wily, but Rock had stopped him before Forte had made off with anything, and now they were trying to figure out what they were for. So far they had drawn nothing but a big blank.

Seeing Forte stealing something for Wily was actually a change, compared to what he had been up to lately. Once, a week or so back, he had actually caught Forte defacing a statue in a park not far from downtown, adding pubic hair. He had only caught the Wily bot by chance, he had been sent to run an errand for Dr. Light, and had decided to take the scenic route home on the trail that ran through the park. He had been headed over to stop what he had thought was an unruly teenager when Forte had spotted him, summoned his armor, and attacked before running off suddenly, as if losing interest after a few moments.

As far as Rock could tell, Forte seemed to be doing nothing more than stirring up trouble aimlessly, likely bored. He'd been doing that a lot lately for some reason. The boy found himself wondering briefly if Wily had finally done the world a favour and died, but didn't count on it. Forte would have no use for the cabling he’d caught him after that afternoon, and he doubted Wily would go down that easily anyway. The man would probably live to be a hundred and fifty, just to spite everyone.

And then there was the nature of the incident. This time it had seemed different, like before, and he just had a feeling that it was more of a guided mission than trouble making. Still, there was still no questioning that a lot of Forte's latest attacks had been very self directed. They were usually ill thought out, and executed with even poorer judgement. Pubic hair, really. That had just been immature.

He looked over at Dr. Light, who was enjoying the same belated meal, and spoke, still shovelling food in his mouth at an almost alarming speed. “Hey, dad, you don't think maybe he was-”

“Rock, don't talk with your mouth full.” Light interrupted with, chiding.

Rock sighed impatiently and finished chewing, swallowing quickly before continuing. “Sorry! I was just saying, are you sure Wily isn't maybe building another robot? Maybe he's starting on his next army.”

Dr. Light shook his head slightly, but there was something in his look that made Rock doubt him a little. “No... you don't build bioroids with what he was after. It looked more like something for some kind of a computer system, probably for his laboratory. In any case, I wouldn’t worry about it so much, Rock. He didn’t make off with anything, they did an inventory count at the factory.” He stood, as if to tell him that the discussion was closed indefinitely, and Rock stood up, stretching.

“I feel better than ever!” he piped cheerily, though in truth his back still ached something fierce – a present from Forte, who had delivered a rather swift kick to the small of his back during their brief, yet rather destructive battle. He hated to think of how much the damage Forte had caused must have cost the owner of the plant the Wily bot had broken into. “Thanks for the repairs!” He grabbed the plates, to take them into the kitchen and put them away. “I think I'm just going to go to bed, and – “

'ockmmn.

Rock jumped, startled, and almost dropped the plates, springing to life before they hit the ground and catching them as they fell – more out of reflex than anything. He stayed crouched quietly, ears straining and holding the plates tightly, so they wouldn’t make any clinking sounds. Was that... what he thought it was? He tensed up, getting a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach.

'oookmnn.

The voice was longer, more drawn out, and he got a better sample of the voice making it. No way. He stood up again, wide eyed, and gave a sweeping gaze around the room slowly, already knowing he wasn't going to find anything there. That voice... That had been sent through a sort of radio transmission he used for emergencies only. After all, he had a much more advanced paging system he preferred. Still, why...

Light looked around as well, confused by his son's sudden confusing behaviour, and change in everything down to his posture. He couldn't see anything that could possibly cause such alarm from the boy, but Rock had gone from tired and relaxed to wound tighter than a spring in less than a few seconds. He walked over to Rock, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Rock, what is it?”

Rock blinked up at the older man, chewing his finger and looking perplexed, still glancing around the room nervously. “Someone's sending me a radio transmission.” he murmured, standing there stiffly. He didn't look happy at all. How could he have gotten so close without his even knowing? That was a short wave radio, and he range on it was almost pitiful. “I... I think it's Forte. The pitch in it matches with my voice samples of his voice. But that can’t be right.”

It was almost impossible to tell, the voice was thick and muffled, like someone trying to talk with a mouth stuffed full of cotton, or heavily drugged. Still, even as he said it he was more than sure that it was Forte, which only added to the mystery. There wasn’t a trace of maliciousness in his voice, the only thing he’d clearly heard in it was pain. Or maybe confusion. He’d have to be confused to come here seeking him. Or just crazy.

Dr. Light didn't look too happy about it either. Why would Forte of all people be contacting Rock? He hated him. This couldn't be good, not at all. Especially given Forte's track record as a bit of a weasel. Then, it was possible he was just trying to issue a challenge to Rock, though this was a new, less destructive way. It wound certainly be a nice change for Forte to contact Rock in a way that didn’t cost him large figures of money. Still, it wasn’t the money he was really concerned about, it was Forte’s chosen means of contact itself. He had to be using the short wave transistor radio system he'd set up in Rock, and that was what he didn't like about the whole situation. It meant that if it was Forte, he wasn’t very far.

The tension had started to leave the older robot, and his shoulders relaxed slightly, so far nothing had blown up and more than a moment had passed. That had to be a good sign right there. Maybe he just wanted to talk, or needed help. There was a first time for everything. With a quick mental command, Rock opened a communication's path on the same frequency. “Hello? Who is this?” He paused, thoughtfully. “It's Forte, isn't it?” A moment passed with nothing but silence before there was finally a response, nearly impossible to hear.

'es.

The voice sounded strained, agonized. It wasn’t hard to tell that the owner of it was either under a lot of stress, or in a lot of pain. He sounded like he was trying to talk through a jaw that was wired shut, or maybe through lips sewn tight together. Seeing as he was Wily’s, both were very viable possibilities. Rock sighed, worried. He was Forte were far from bosom buddies, but he didn't like the way Forte sounded, not one little bit. He knew it could be a trap, but he didn't think so. It just didn't seem like one. What it seemed like was trouble, and a whole lot of it. The way Forte sounded, the severely long pause before he responded – it meant trouble and he knew it. He glanced over at Light, “It's Forte.”

The old man sighed, frowning. He wasn't sure of what exactly was going on, he was hearing a one sided conversation, and not a good one at that. “Rock, if he's contacting you that way, he can't be far. Keep on your toes, son.” It was the best advice he could offer. He reached over slowly, flicking the outer lights on quickly, to give them a better view of the situation at hand. The sun had long since set, and at least it provided them with some light.

Rock nodded a little, staring out the window at the newly illuminated yard, and tried to spot his enemy and discover his hiding spot. So far he saw nothing. He thought about it for a moment, then paged Forte again. It never hurt to try things the easy way first. “Forte, where are you?” He got a response, muffled so badly that he could hardly make out what he – had he just said... He had to have heard him wrong.

That had almost sounded like 'driveway'. Rock knew Forte was bold, but standing out on the driveway in front of his house was past the stage of being bold, it was just crazy. He was about to ask the younger robot to repeat himself, hurrying the rest of the way to the kitchen to deliver the plates, when he stole a quick peek out the window at the dark driveway.

And really did drop the plates.

He was out the door before he really had time for it to even register that he had dropped them, but Roll would forgive him, they were just plates, and this... this was something much, much more important. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen, he couldn’t have seen it, it had been a trick from the lights, shadows covering him in the right places, just light thrown at the right angle.

Dr. Light had no idea what had caused Rock to run off so quickly, but he knew his son was apt to think with his heart rather than his head. He followed him quickly, side stepping the shattered glass on his way. He slowed to a stop when he reached the porch, pausing before he descended the stairs. Already he could see that the Wily bot was going to be no trouble. What was left of him, at least.

Rock got to where Forte lay prone on the driveway, and crouched down, grimacing when his knee settled in a small pool of blood forming around his still form. He reached out to touch him slowly, almost afraid to. He had to be dead, how could he have even – Rock frowned. Before he even touched the taller boy he could tell he was alive, for the time being. Things didn’t look very promising for him, though.

His chest was rising and falling in rapid succession, painfully, and there was a steady trickle of blood trailing down from the corner of his mouth, over his lips, and making slight bubbles off them. At least, he was relatively sure the blood was coming from his mouth, there wasn’t much of it still intact. Still, he was breathing. His breaths could be mistaken for convulsions, but the bubbles were from air exiting his mouth. If that was where the blood was coming from.

There was so much blood it was really hard to tell where he was bleeding from. He was practically soaked from head to toe in it, and it looked more like a coat of paint than anything, really. And somehow he was still alive, struggling for survival much like an animal after a fatal blow from a car, only not swift enough to kill it instantly, only enough to let it lie on the side of the road and suffer first. Rock frowned. Given Forte’s condition, it looked more like a truck than a car.

He was reminded sickly of a day years ago, when he’d had a different life without Wily and robot masters, and being Rockman. He had gone for a walk to the park and watch the children play, he’d been fascinated by them, and a little girl’s puppy had gotten away from her. It had run out onto the road and consequentially been run over by someone’s car, though not badly enough to be immediately fatal. He’d tried to help it, but it had been far too late, and the dog had died giving him the same look Forte now had. He felt ill.

“Are you... are you okay, Forte?” he breathed, fighting nausea. It was no small wonder he'd had trouble understanding him. Not only was it covered in blood, his mouth had a deep cut from his lower lip halfway to his ear, flesh grinning wickedly at him in two pale, almost white flaps, like perverse lips. His jaw looked half crushed too, sitting on a strange angle and dented inward.

He groaned quietly, as he was hit with the impact of what he’d just thought. He could see Forte’s jaw, teeth and all, the flesh was that split and ragged. He could see it all through the torn flaps of skin, like some kind of a disgusting picture from a medical book, only in this one the gums and between the teeth were pooled with blood, the teeth stained an awful pinkish red. He fought back a strong urge to vomit, convulsing and heaving slightly, not wanting Forte to look at him and see his expression.

Forte opened his eyes slowly, staring at Rock through his good one, and Rock forced himself to give the younger robot a small smile, though he imagined his eyes were probably wide with the horror struck awe he was feeling. The other eye was off kilter, pushed back in its socket too far and shoved roughly to the right at a permanent sideway glance. The lid rested half open, and it ran over an arc going in, the eye itself was pushed that far back. He couldn't see that side of his scalp, he was wearing a dark shirt as a kind of turban, but he didn't like how misshapen the lump of cloth was. It looked like someone had tried to bash Forte's proverbial brains in, and judging by his general appearance, this was likely not far from the truth.

He reached down, hand shaking badly, and pulled the shirt down more, slowly covering that eye mercifully. If he kept looking at it, he was certain he really would be sick, and he needed to keep it together right now, for the injured robot’s sake. He couldn’t afford to freak out until this was all over.

Forte shifted suddenly, as if to crawl forward again – he'd been crawling for awhile, if the skid marks of blood and loosened flesh on the ground meant anything. His arm stretched out slowly, and he saw where part of the skin was supposed to be. The flesh on his arm was raw in places, and completely missing in others, there was fresh blood running off it, any clotting that might have started would have been rubbed away right along with the skin.

His hand was twitching slightly, and Rock got a good look at it. There were only three nails left on the fingers of that hand, one of which was hanging off loosely. He must have lot them on the long haul here, dragging his full weight along the ground, crawling like a dog. Rock had never felt so sorry for Forte as he did at this moment. That his creator would treat him this way was revolting.

Instead of grabbing onto the cool cement of the driveway to drag himself along further, he gripped onto Rock's wrist with surprising strength, given his current state. He didn’t try to pull him over, or push him away, he just held on tight, as if trying to decide if he really was there, really existed, or if he was still alone on the road somewhere, dying. His fingers clenched and unclenched on him slowly, as if he couldn’t keep a solid grip for very long, and this was probably close to the truth.

Rock shivered a little. He didn't want Forte to touch him when he was like this. Cold blood clung to his wrist, feeling sticky and gel-like on his hand at the same time, and with every clench, fresh warm blood oozed out to accompany it. He thought of those fleshy sockets where the nails were missing and couldn’t help a small shudder. And the smell… The smell was the worst part, overwhelming him. He wasn’t even sure how to define it, he imagined it to be the way death and rot smelled. He fought a convulsive gag, not wanting to retch when he was supposed to be coming to the Wily bot's aid.

“gofth.” he murmured, sole eye staring deep into Rock's baby blues, boring into his skull.

Rock narrowed his eyes slightly in confusion, not understanding the command, and at first he worried that Forte was speaking in gibberish. It was possible, he wasn’t sure how much of what made Forte himself was really left, and what might lay a mile or two down the road. He stroked the straggly bangs not under the shirt back gently, petting him slowly and unsure of what to do. “Shh… don’t try to talk.” He thought of that flap of skin tearing open wider and shivered a little. He didn’t want to see that.

Forte stared up at him silently, then realized Rock didn’t understand, and tried to speak again, slower, focusing on the syllables. “go....spo...” He dug his remaining nails into his adversary's wrist, hardly noticing when the one dangling loosely came free, not caring what happened to him now. As long as Rock took care of Gospel and he was there when Forte finally came to, he couldn’t care less about his present condition or what happened to him. He waited for Rock to get the message, he was going to pass out again soon – he’d fought the urge for too long – but he wouldn’t allow himself to black out again until he was sure Rock understood.

Rock stared at him for a few seconds, still uncomprehending, then his eyes widened slightly in recognition of the word Forte was trying to push out of his ruined mouth. 'Gospel', he was sure that was what Forte was trying to tell him. But what about him? He wasn’t here, at least as far as he could tell, and he doubted the dog would be hiding in the bushes somewhere if Rock was sitting here with him. He pet Forte’s shoulder lightly, thinking about it.

At first he thought Forte meant his support unit had attacked him, causing the damage Forte had sustained, and then his eyes fell on the lump of sheets Forte had been dragging with him. It was the right size, and also stained a deep red. And if Forte was like this, then it was very possible that… “Is that... What happened, Forte? Who did this?” Not that he really needed to ask, he already knew who did it, it was obvious.

But Forte was only staring at him with that hard look in his eyes, too weak to give more than a shadow of nod. His grip hadn't relinquished at all. “go...” he tried, pressing the point, determined to make Rock understand what needed to be done. It was the most important thing at the moment. “g-gos…”

“I understand.” Rock cut him off with. It wouldn't do Forte any good to strain himself now, repeating the same word again ad again, and he didn’t think he could stand listening to him having to force the smallest of words out, it was too depressing, and couldn’t be very good for him. “I'll take care of him for you. I promise.”

Forte released Rock's arm, staring at him to be sure, then his eyes lost that hard look as the frown faded from his face slowly, and his hand dropped from Rock’s wrist as he let everything fade out.

Rock stared at him quietly, taking in everything and trying not to be overwhelmed. He was trying to decide what would be the best way to bring them both in and convince Dr. Light to help while doing it when he felt a faint yet firm tap on his shoulder. He started slightly, glancing up to see one sleepy eyed Blues rubbing his eyes, and settled a little, staring at him sadly.

“He's hurt. We have to help him, we can't just leave him like this.” he said to his eldest brother defensively. Rock would never leave someone to suffer like this, no matter who it was, but that didn’t mean Blues wouldn’t, especially Forte. But the Wily bot deserved better than this, and he was ready and willing to go to bat for him about it against Blues if need be.

But it seemed that wouldn’t be necessary after all. Blues surprised him by nodding in agreement. “So I see. Looks like he’s coming apart at the seams. Dr. Light's already waiting inside. Your ill fated dinner plate woke me up, so I thought I'd come help.” He shrugged a little.

Rock sighed heavily in immense relief. Blues carried a short fuse when it came to Forte. He bent down and wrapped his arms around him awkwardly, deciding where Forte’s battered body needed support the most. He glanced up at Blues. “Could you carry Gospel? I think I can handle Forte.” He began to work on picking the taller boy up and find a way to carry him that wasn't too awkward.

He finally settled for draping him over his back and leaning forward, supporting his weight and holding him up by his legs. “He's um... well...” He nodded toward the mass of sheets, feeling bad. “That’s him. I don’t think he was as fortunate as Forte. He looks pretty… Not good.” He offered, not wanting to say dead.

Blues stared at the lump and sighed, raising a brow. Forte was going to be crushed, and completely unmanageable if he woke up and his support unit was dead. “I'll be right behind you. Just don't drop him, I don't think he'll even stay in one piece if you do.” He grabbed the red-soaked mass of sheets by the knot, frowning at how similar it was to a garbage bag. He groaned at the blood dripping from it, holding it away from his body with a slight noise of disgust. That was going to be murder on the carpet.

Rock carried him back slowly, worried Forte was going to come to and freak out or something, not wanting him to slip down off his back and take more damage. The sheet he had draped around him was really making it hard to keep a good grip on him, and the limpness of his body wasn’t helping any.. He heard footsteps following his and he hurried the pace a little, slipping past Dr. Light, who kept the door held open for him. He passed him slowly, making sure he didn’t hit the door frame, and hurried inside. He went slowly through the living room, mindful of any furniture he could trip over.

He made his way to the lab, setting him down on the table carefully. Blues followed at his heels, carrying Gospel, and deposited the bag gently on another table, slipping back out. Rock followed him silently, casting a worried glance at Dr. Light as he disappeared into his lab. He didn’t come back out that night.
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(A)bort, (R)etry, (F)ail? Pt. 1: Reconfiguration