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The night sky stretched far and high above the very top room of the power plant's control tower. Standing in the highest room, between the mesh of pipes, lifts and ladders, in the main control area was a robot. Over six feet tall, a glass protective mask covered most of his face from view. Printed on his chest was the number thirteen, and at the ends of his hulking arms was a pair of ginourmous drills. He breathed in and out, as he observed a monitor on the left side of the room.
This was Crashman.
One of eight Robot Masters who Dr. Wily had specially designed to turn a certain blue robot into spare parts, made to bring and fight wars wherever they went, and Crashman was perhaps the best example of this. Made from the sturdiest metal, and armed with violent explosives the doctor had so tactly dubbed "Crash Bombs", he was— for lack of a better term, a living weapon.
On the monitor before him, Crashman observed the very robot he'd been tasked with dispatching — Rockman, a lab assistant turned fighting robot who'd had Dr. Wily grovelling for mercy just one year earlier during his first attempt at world domination. Rockman had already made decent progress through the control tower, despite having only been intercepted by security about 20 minutes earlier. Crashman knew scaling the tower would be no small task, but he also knew Rockman was absolutely capable. He was the fourth now that the blue bomber had come after. The hour was growing short, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Rockman was at his door.
As he watched Rockman blast down waves of enemies, he thought for a moment. He and Heatman had occupied the same area — An experimental geothermal power plant. Heat had taken the main building, and himself, he had taken the control tower erected atop it. Crashman had spoken with Heatman just before his fight with Rockman, but Heat, the idiot he was, had forgotten to turn his communicator off. But what Crash overheard because of that made him think.
"He's here. I can hear 'im." Heat had said, "I'll have 'im smoked in 20 seconds. Just watch."
"Don't burn yourself out." Crash said monotonously, "You know Master Wily never tested the limits of your heat resistance."
"Who do you think you're talking to, idiot?! Do you think I'm called Heatman for nothing?!"
Crashman didn't reply. Evidently that had struck a chord. Then he heard the door on Heatman's end open, accompanied by the sounds of footsteps. He knew who it was.
"Hohoho…" Heatman chuckled, "Hey there, Rockstar. Congrats on getting here all by yourself! I might be a bit too hot for you to handle, though!"
"You've been manipulating the energy levels in the plant, haven't you?" He heard Rockman's voice next. He sounded so… normal next to them.
"Ding ding! Thaaaaat's right, buddy! By the time I'm through here, this place'll be nothin' but a smoldering ruin!"
"It's been 20 seconds." Crashman had thought, though he didn't say it out loud. But what Rockman said next stopped his train of thought completely.
"But… to be able to manage heat levels in the plant like that. With that sort of power, you could do so much good for the world. You could help make natural resource power plants commonplace! Think of all the people it would help!"
Was he… trying to reason with Heatman? "Why?" Crashman thought. He knew well Heat wouldn't listen, and Rockman had to know that too, right? So why bother with such an asinine line of thought?
"Spare me the preaching, yeah?" Heat retorted, "I don't think like that. None of us Wily bots do. Just ain't what we're made for. We were made to fight, ya hear? All of us! To fight YOU!"
"But… just because you were made to fight… doesn't mean you can't be anything more. I know that better than anyone!" Rockman pleaded.
What was he talking about? Heatman was right, wasn't he? They, the Wily Numbers were all made specially to destroy Rockman. Those were the breaks, right? And yet… here he was, trying to convince them otherwise. But why? What did he have to gain from it? It didn't make sense.
"Oh what? You think cuz' your pops went 'n stuck a gun to your hand, that puts you on our level? Get real." Heat spat. He was angry now, "Someone's gonna hafta knock you down a couple pegs, and looks like it's gonna be me!"
Crashman heard as Heatman ignited his flame dischargers, hurling himself towards Rockman at maximum speed. For about 45 seconds, all he could hear was the sounds of flaming discharge being hurled across the room, always followed by the sound of gunfire from Rockman. Then, an explosion, and a scream. It was Heatman's. He'd overheated himself. Of course. He heard the sound of Rockman walking towards him. Time for him to finish the job, Crashman imagined.
"W-Well…?" Heatman looked up at his opponent, speaking through his barely functional voice generator, "W-W-What are you waiting for? Blast my CPU out already."
"I'm not gonna do that." Rockman said, without even a moment's hesitation, "I don't want to destroy you or any of your siblings. I wasn't joking before when I said you could put your powers towards a better cause."
"Hahaha… A b-b-bit late for t-t-t-that now, isn't it?" Heatman gasped. He could hardly breathe anymore.
"No, it's not. We're going to preserve your memory chips and repair you. And none of you will ever have to fight again."
"…"
Heatman tried to think of a comeback, but his mind went blank. He was at a loss for words. This robot and him, they were supposed to be enemies, but despite that…he was showing him such kindness and compassion. He…couldn't understand it at all. He couldn't feel much of anything anymore, but what he did feel was his eyes dampening.
"…C-Crashman's in the control tower. J-Just above here. S… Sa…" He was about to say one last thing, but his voice generator had hit it's limits. Rockman knew what he wanted to say, though.
"…Thank you. And I will. I promise."
Crashman couldn't believe it. Heatman had gone and ratted him out! What the hell was that for?! Whatever the case, he didn't have time to worry about it. Rockman had gotten even further up the tower, and he figured it would only be another few minutes before their fated battle. He paced across the room, listening and waiting. The plan was that if Heatman failed, Crashman would bomb the tower and cause it to collapse. He'd been laying the charges before Rockman showed up. Once he took care of him though it'd be back to work, back to bringing this miserable city to its knees. He peered down towards the city hundreds of feet below. They relied on this power plant, and without it, they'll all be bending the knee to Dr. Wily.
Then, he heard it. Footsteps. Just like the ones he'd heard when talking with Heatman.
He was here.
Crashman turned to the door, waiting with anticipation. He had no fists to clench, only the cold metallic reminders of what he was built to do. And he would do it without flaw. He narrowed his eyes. The footsteps drew closer, louder. And then, the door clicked, and grinded upwards, the light from the room outside spilling in. And into the room stepped Rockman. This was the first time Crashman had actually seen him face-to-face. He was a lot…shorter than he was anticipating. This was the man, no…the child who had Dr. Wily on his knees back then. No matter. Looks can be deceiving, and for one of them it was time for the curtain to fall.
Crashman would make sure it wasn't him.
Silence for about five seconds. Then, Rockman spoke.
"You're Crashman, right? Heatman told me about you."
"Oh, I know all about it." Crashman replied flatly, "He has some nerve tattling to you of all people."
"Then does that mean you—"
"Yeah. I was listening." Crashman cut him off, "Idiot forgot to silence his communicator. I heard everything you two talked about."
Rockman paused for a second. He stepped closer, and the door shut behind him. The very first time that had happened, he'd jumped with fear at the thought of being locked in with an enemy, but today he was calm and clear-headed.
"I didn't wanna fight Heatman, and I don't wanna fight you either." He looked at Crashman, who towered so high over him, his eyes cold and stoic. He wasn't sure if he'd listen to what he was going to say, but he had to try, right?
"I'm not here to be lectured by you." Crashman spoke through gritted teeth, "I don't know what Heatman was thinking, or if his CPU was just fried, but whatever you said to him won't work on me."
"But this really doesn't have to come to blows between anyone! All of you can—"
"—All of us can what? Be rebuilt? Use our powers for good? Not me. Definitely not me." Crashman spoke dismissively. He didn't want to listen to this. He didn't even want to think about it.
"But why? What makes you any different?" Rockman pleaded just as he had with Heatman. Crashman seemed resistant to this in a way that the others before him weren't.
Crashman glared at Rockman. He hated this so much. The truth was, Rockman's conversation with Heatman had been replaying in his mind nonstop since he heard it. The idea of changing, turning your powers around to help people instead of hurting them. He'd never even thought about it before this. And the more he thought about it, the more he hated the idea. Because he was beginning to think Rockman might be right, but because he was the only one, the only Robot Master who was truly… truly…
"I'll tell you what makes me different." Crashman looked at the ground. "What good are my powers for people? My armor was made so strong… t-that I can be shot at by a tank and not feel a thing. There… There are weapons mounted to every inch of my body. I-I have… drills where my hands should be! HE CALLED ME CRASHMAN, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"
He didn't understand. He didn't understand this at all. Why was he becoming like this? Why did this hurt so much? Why was this the one thing his armor couldn't keep out? What the HELL was this feeling?!
"M-Maybe you can save the others… but not me. I'm a lost cause. So let's hurry up and do this already. It's ALL I'm good for. And if I don't have that… then what DO I have?!"
Crashman stood there looking at the floor, ready for Rockman to start shooting at him. It was time to fight. It'd been time already now. He just wanted this to end so he could stop thinking about it already. But the gunfire never came. He didn't even hear Rockman take aim. But what he did hear was Rockman coming closer.
"I want to show you something, Crashman." Rockman held out the arm on which his Rock Buster was mounted. And then, in the blink of an eye, he swapped it. Where his weapon had been only a moment ago was now his hand. Crashman looked at his drills. And then he understood.
"Whatever it is… we can make it happen. You might think destroying things is the only thing you're good at. Sometimes though, that's what we need. If we don't destroy old buildings, they could collapse and harm people. And then we build newer, stronger buildings in their place."
Crashman looked at him. He didn't know what to say anymore. But he didn't hate this quite so much as he did only a moment ago.
"I changed too. I wasn't always like this, you know. So I promise, when I say 'all of you', I mean all of you."
Crashman couldn't believe what he was hearing, much less the fact that he was agreeing with it. This was so strange, so alien to him. But thinking about it, he thought maybe stepping into that unknown wouldn't be so bad. Listening to Rockman's words, how he spoke so very kindly, even to his adversaries…it took him a moment to even notice the tears streaming down his cheeks.
…
"Doctor?" Rockman put his hand to his transceiver, "I'm coming back now…"
"…And Crashman's coming with me."