Chapter Text
“What in the hell are you doing?!”
The seven or so robot masters chattering lightened down and they all looked at the Wily with incredulous looks, as if the colorful playing cards they held in their hands wasn’t enough.
“Playin’ Uno,” said Heatman.
“Why are you doing that instead of working?!”
They all groaned.
“Aw come on-”
“Don’t sass me Quickman!” he snapped,” All of you- back to work NOW!”
Grumbling under their breaths they did as he said and set down their playing cards. That was until he left the room and they quickly picked them back up.
“That can wait till after we finish our game.”
“Exactly,” Metalman agreed.
“Quick you son of a bitch give me back my cards!” Flashman growled, “I have way more cards now than I did before!”
“Jeez, lighten up bolts for brains,” he handed back the deck of cards and flicked at his forehead. “So uptight.”
“You-”
“Whose turn is it?” Bubbleman interrupted.
“Wasn’t it yours?”
Bubbleman paused, “I think you’re right. Draw two.”
“Oh, you’re gonna play like that huh? HUH?! Guess WHAT!? DRAW FOUR BITCH!” Crashman slapped the card onto the table. Well, he tried to, but his large drill for a hand made all the cards sputter across the table and onto the floor. Red and blue and green and yellow cascading on the dirty grey carpet they were sitting on.
“Well that's not fair I wasn’t part of that,” Woodman grumbled a bit. Feeling sour as he grabbed the cards and added them to his hand.
“You suck at this game Crashman.” One of the others commentated, leading to a flitter of chuckles.
“Shut up!”
“By the way Wily been more angsty than usual, I wonder why.” Heatman put down a card.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that too…” Airman responded.
“I think he’s worried one of us will get sick,” Metalman said.
“Us? Pssh. Doubt it. Although ol’ softy here probably would.” he elbowed Flashman a couple of times until he snapped at him.
“I’ll break your neck Quick.”
“You can try but you’ll fail.”
“I have your weakness!”
“Hey, hey! Not tonight.” Airman shook his head.
“Can we hurry up and finish already?” Heatman whined.
“Why do you want to finish so bad huh?”
“Because it’s no fun when you guys get all rude and fight each other!”
“What are you asshats doing?”
They all looked up to see the black and yellow robot at the door, scowling. Bass of course. In the dim light, his star-shaped gem on his large (and stupid) helmet glimmered in the fluorescent lights. They weren’t surprised he was glaring at them the way he was. Like they were the dirt that rusted up his joints. He hardly did anything but frump about with a scowl on his face when he wasn’t trying to beat Megaman in a fight. These days he was in and out of the castle, but neither of the robot masters had the balls to ask why. Except for maybe Quick, but he wasn’t very observant.
“Not much.”
“Know why Wily’s been so angsty recently?” heat asked.
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Don’t you and Wily talk any?” Metal rebutted.
“That isn’t any of yer fucking-” his eyes suddenly went wide and he coughed, “any of your-” he hacked, “aw fuck-”
He left the room in a hurry.
“...Well, that was weird.”
“He’s always weird.”
“Ain’t that the truth!”
They all laughed, but Bubbleman was thinking about the disease that had spread.
This time it wasn't because of Wily inventing crazy pills. With nature and technology becoming even more and more irreversibly intertwined, the first natural disease that affects technology, and only technology came into effect.
After testing, and as humans discovered, it occurred when a robot with enough programming to allow them for feeling and affections fell so deeply in one-sided love- flowers would grow deep into their systems. It would burrow themselves into their core usually, with the core supplying enough power to keep the flowers alive. The robot master in question would cough them up, their systems trying to get rid of the intruder. Most would succumb to it and soon enough would end up retiring early. Many robots were found abandoned. Their internal systems corrupted with the deadly petals and poisoned vines.
And so, solutions were developed, to remove the seed of the problem. However, it messed with their internal components in a way that was almost impossible to identify, but the humans found but it made them forever unable to love again. Most said this wasn't that big of a problem. Why does a robot even need to love after all?
Others were just confounded. This wasn’t affecting them at all, why would it affect the robot masters?
Perhaps it was nature's way of punishing them.
Surely none of Wily’s creations needed to. He would likely remove the programming that allowed them to back sass if he wouldn’t be so bored talking to himself. For most humans, they have grown too attached to the beings of oil and metal parts structured together. It was an unfortunate plight for humans who desired things that acted human, they all resigned it was a problem to be solved later down the road.
It was suspicious, Bass was very suspicious with the coughing and all that.
But then again...
Of course, he wouldn’t be affected by it right? He’s Bass!
Treble whined at the door as louder and louder coughing and hacking noises ensued from inside the room.
Bass would tell him to shut up, but he wasn’t able to get out the words as he let out a final hack and the petals finally erupted from his throat. He hated this, he hated this so so damn much. He hated the burning in his chest, how all of his senses and every circuit burned with pain, how his systems screamed at him as the pain became unbearable before reaching its crescendo and those damned petals-
Uh oh.
As his chest relaxed, the burning pain subsided, and the slick taste of the oil stained his mouth. He wondered if his teeth were blackened. He stared at the bright blue flower in his hands.
It was just petals but a night ago.
He sure as hell didn’t know the type of bloom it was- why in the sweet fuck would he? He did analyze it and recorded its appearance. Why he did he isn't sure. Petals spurt from the center, the edges curled and soft. It’s center deep violet and visible veins deep periwinkle.
What the fuck was it? Did he even need to know? No. Not really. But he was curious. While pondering this he let Treble back into the room, he curled around his feet and whined for affection.
“Dumb mutt, you gonna be as dumb as Megaman’s dog if you keep acting like this.”
Treble gave him a shifty side eye and growled at him but he accepted his pets anyway.
“...”
Goddammit, he just HAD to talk about Megaman... Even now.
Bass is rather lack-luster in his earliest memories. He doesn’t remember too much. He doesn’t remember his first activation, he doesn’t remember how he felt when he first learned his purpose and mission instructed by his creator. But that’s all unimportant as far as he’s concerned. He remembers the important bits. He remembers is the first fight with Megaman.
What a rush.
He got shivers just thinking about it. Exhilaration coursed through every joint in his body, glee rushing to his head and joy sparked in watching the streets crumble, the evacuated buildings fall apart-
It came to a close once he lost. Sparks flew, armor dented and crushed, the power gem on his chest cracked. But what hurt most was not the physical side, oh no.
It was that he had the gall, the nerve to ask if he wanted to be friends. Of course, he said no. Did he think he would say anything else?
But even as they fought, over and over and over again, he never lost hope and faith that someone he would turn over to the side of “good” and help in the fight against Dr. Wily. Of course, that would mean admitting he was weak, he submitted to what R- Megaman had wanted and lost.
Bass does not lose. Not forever, he tries and tries over and over until he dies.
Which he might.
Treble has called him stupid for it, but he's always helped him out. As he got stronger and stronger, Megaman did the same, despite never getting a single upgrade.
It was at that realization his hatred evolved to begrudging respect. And from respect to admiration. There was a lot to admire about his naive enthusiasm. Then from admiration to…
He crushed the flower in his hand.
It had evolved to whatever the hell this bullshit was.
He hated it. He hated the fluttering in his chest, he hated how his smile drove him mad, he hated how he was compelled to follow him about town, lurking in the shadows and behind large bushes to watch as he went to the store to help his sister, or to the arcade.
He wanted to play with him.
Argh! Goddammit, there it was! These stupid fucking thoughts. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to kiss him. HIM! He thought his rival, the person he was designed solely to destroy and nothing else as adorable.
He was, he couldn’t think of a better word for it. Those bright blue eyes, pale pink lips, and sometimes messy brown hair were adorable. He liked him best when he wore oversized blue sweatshirts that made him look so, so scrawny and vulnerable-
Treble yipped at him.
“What do you mean what am I going to do? Yer out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to tell anyone.”
Treble whined.
“I fucking know I could die. But I’d rather die than let anyone know.”
Another whine.
“So what if you miss me?”
A loud bark this time.
“Oh shut it already! I’m not telling him or anyone else and that’s final!”
“You’re an idiot.”
“If you want it told so bad you do it.” he frowned at the smushed flower in his hand and went out to search for the only spot in the building with a stable wi-fi connection.
The flower was a Blue Iris. He found that flowers have stupid meanings as he found while searching the web, and this flowers meaning was courage and admiration.
Disgusting.
He picked up an E-tank to finally wash away the disgusting taste of oil in his mouth and sighed. In the other rooms, he can hear some of the other robot masters talking.
It occurred to him sometimes how alone he was. He didn’t understand the bond robot masters from the same line liked to share, commonly referring to each other as “brothers” and whatnot. He didn’t see its use. Hanging out when they were done with work, having each other's backs against Megaman.
He didn’t need all of that. He was strong enough to face Megaman on his own, with nobodies help but his fists. He can handle anything, and he certainly-
He certainly-
He heaved over, coughing,
“Goddammit not again.”
The voices in the other room quieted and rustling could be heard, shit, shit-
“You alright out there-”
He ran back into his room and heaved over his desk, chest plate squeezing him, the acidic bile of oil pungent in his mouth again, and the flower, covered in sickly disgusting fluid sat in his hands.
Blue, blue, blue. Royal blue. Petals in the shape of a starfish, and the tiniest of a white flower for a center.
It hurt so bad, everything burned, it hurt for the air to crawl back into his throat and he desperately needed another E-tank to get that awful oil away from his mouth.
He squeezed the flower into a bundle of squashed petals and threw it away.
“It would all be over if you just told Wily to get the surgery.”
“...”
He’s not doing that. He told himself. He would die before letting the world know that the mighty Bass fell to his knees because of some stupid cutie and damned flowers.
He hated this.
But he could do this, all on his own.
He doesn’t need anyone.
He’s never needed anyone except Treble.
That hasn’t changed. Maybe everything was crumbling around him and he had no way to stop it. But that hadn’t changed, and it never would.