Past Prologue
folder
+M through R › Mega Man
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,356
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+M through R › Mega Man
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,356
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
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.
Acceptance
The metal floor felt like ice beneath X’s folded legs. He shivered, sensing that Zero was fast growing cold as well. Though he had been sure that ending Zero’s suffering was the right thing to do, X was overcome by a growing tide of regret.
“I’m sorry,” X breathed, bowing his head low toward Zero. Tears sprang from his eyes. “I’m so sorry!” he wailed. He balled his fists and struck the floor plating, the dull thuds resonating like bell tolls. Dr. Cain pursed his lips, knowing he would be there if X needed support. But to come to terms with death and loss is an unavoidable and lonely path, and therefore the doctor could only watch as X dealt with the painful journey toward acceptance.
X pounded his fist again. He was infuriated with the result, and that their effort had all gone to waste. He gritted his teeth and wished he could disappear.
Then, a peculiar sound reached his ears, as if a generator had been switched on. His eyes darted to Zero, whose eyes once again held a dim green flame of life.
“Doctor?” X called. He leapt to his feet, fighting the urge to train his buster on Zero. He prepared himself for anything.
Dr. Cain, who had been painfully observing X’s turmoil, took a glance at the readouts before saying, “Don’t panic, X. His reserve power core just kicked in, that’s all.”
X relaxed and cocked his head slightly, awaiting further explanation.
“All other Reploids have such emergency power cores. They kick in when vital systems undergo a severe power drain, or the main reactor gets knocked offline somehow. However, it is little more than a just a battery. Once it runs out, that’s it.”
X sighed and asked, “How long?”
“Zero’s design is unique, but most Reploids’ cores last only half a day at best.”
“He’ll cling to life with all he’s got,” X said glumly.
“I can probably find a way to shut that down, too,” Dr. Cain offered.
“No,” X said, wiping his eyes. “There’s no point.” He crossed over to Zero patted him lightly on the shoulder. In truth, X was wavering—he was not quite willing to let go as long as Zero was still fighting. “But if you don’t mind, I would like to remain here until the true end,” X said.
“Of course,” Dr. Cain said. He smiled, happy to see X discover more of what he is capable of as a sentient being. Though the time since Zero’s arrival had been an emotional ordeal for X, Dr. Cain believed that he had grown significantly from the experience, and would carry it with him always.
He and Dr. Cain had refitted Zero’s armor and cleaned him up, after which Dr. Cain had left X alone, claiming he had other work to do. X was grateful, yet the solitude made his inner thoughts especially loud.
Even now, he still could not explain his attachment to the red Maverick, and could get a grip on his emotions like he could a handful of oil—the answer always ran through his fingers. He supposed it went beyond mere pity, for he would have not agreed to the experimental gene therapy treatment in that case. He did feel sorry for Zero to be sure, but the desire to preserve his life was more desperate than the desire to spare him pain. Why X would feel this way was the nagging question, yet to spare himself needless frustration, he gave up for the time being. He chose instead to focus his time solely upon being at Zero’s side, no matter what the reason. X felt he was doing the right thing, and that was all that mattered to him.
So, gathering his patience, he seated himself next to Zero resting in the capsule, the faint glow in his eyes still smoldering. X studied him intently, imagining what it might be like if Zero were awake, healthy, and just a normal Reploid. X smiled, recalling how Zero had put him out of harms’ way, and the unhesitating trust he had put in X. These events led X to believe that, without his Maverick programming, Zero was a kind and noble spirit. X wondered, too, if any Reploid could be built as a pure Maverick, no matter what their human creators intend.
Really, X’s thoughts were like many trains all trying to stop at one station. Despite this, X felt compelled to say aloud, “I think we would have been good friends.”
He soon felt weary. He was tired of worrying, and tired of feeling depressed. The circuits in his head felt like they were fraying. He rested his head against the hard rim of capsule, and could not remember how long it had been since he slept. He debated with himself, but convinced himself that a partial shutdown would be permissible if for a short time. He let his eyes droop, and he dozed off.
“I’m sorry,” X breathed, bowing his head low toward Zero. Tears sprang from his eyes. “I’m so sorry!” he wailed. He balled his fists and struck the floor plating, the dull thuds resonating like bell tolls. Dr. Cain pursed his lips, knowing he would be there if X needed support. But to come to terms with death and loss is an unavoidable and lonely path, and therefore the doctor could only watch as X dealt with the painful journey toward acceptance.
X pounded his fist again. He was infuriated with the result, and that their effort had all gone to waste. He gritted his teeth and wished he could disappear.
Then, a peculiar sound reached his ears, as if a generator had been switched on. His eyes darted to Zero, whose eyes once again held a dim green flame of life.
“Doctor?” X called. He leapt to his feet, fighting the urge to train his buster on Zero. He prepared himself for anything.
Dr. Cain, who had been painfully observing X’s turmoil, took a glance at the readouts before saying, “Don’t panic, X. His reserve power core just kicked in, that’s all.”
X relaxed and cocked his head slightly, awaiting further explanation.
“All other Reploids have such emergency power cores. They kick in when vital systems undergo a severe power drain, or the main reactor gets knocked offline somehow. However, it is little more than a just a battery. Once it runs out, that’s it.”
X sighed and asked, “How long?”
“Zero’s design is unique, but most Reploids’ cores last only half a day at best.”
“He’ll cling to life with all he’s got,” X said glumly.
“I can probably find a way to shut that down, too,” Dr. Cain offered.
“No,” X said, wiping his eyes. “There’s no point.” He crossed over to Zero patted him lightly on the shoulder. In truth, X was wavering—he was not quite willing to let go as long as Zero was still fighting. “But if you don’t mind, I would like to remain here until the true end,” X said.
“Of course,” Dr. Cain said. He smiled, happy to see X discover more of what he is capable of as a sentient being. Though the time since Zero’s arrival had been an emotional ordeal for X, Dr. Cain believed that he had grown significantly from the experience, and would carry it with him always.
He and Dr. Cain had refitted Zero’s armor and cleaned him up, after which Dr. Cain had left X alone, claiming he had other work to do. X was grateful, yet the solitude made his inner thoughts especially loud.
Even now, he still could not explain his attachment to the red Maverick, and could get a grip on his emotions like he could a handful of oil—the answer always ran through his fingers. He supposed it went beyond mere pity, for he would have not agreed to the experimental gene therapy treatment in that case. He did feel sorry for Zero to be sure, but the desire to preserve his life was more desperate than the desire to spare him pain. Why X would feel this way was the nagging question, yet to spare himself needless frustration, he gave up for the time being. He chose instead to focus his time solely upon being at Zero’s side, no matter what the reason. X felt he was doing the right thing, and that was all that mattered to him.
So, gathering his patience, he seated himself next to Zero resting in the capsule, the faint glow in his eyes still smoldering. X studied him intently, imagining what it might be like if Zero were awake, healthy, and just a normal Reploid. X smiled, recalling how Zero had put him out of harms’ way, and the unhesitating trust he had put in X. These events led X to believe that, without his Maverick programming, Zero was a kind and noble spirit. X wondered, too, if any Reploid could be built as a pure Maverick, no matter what their human creators intend.
Really, X’s thoughts were like many trains all trying to stop at one station. Despite this, X felt compelled to say aloud, “I think we would have been good friends.”
He soon felt weary. He was tired of worrying, and tired of feeling depressed. The circuits in his head felt like they were fraying. He rested his head against the hard rim of capsule, and could not remember how long it had been since he slept. He debated with himself, but convinced himself that a partial shutdown would be permissible if for a short time. He let his eyes droop, and he dozed off.