megaman x | prelude in g
Megaman X | gen | WIP | 1500 words | AU | beta'd by miarr.
nekopyo: So, hey, I've been thinking about writing a Megaman X fic.
miarr: YES WRITE IT.
nekopyo: Well, I wrote it.
miarr: YES POST IT.
nekopyo: Can I post it at your journal?
miarr: YES GIVE IT-wait, what?
SO NOW I AM A FREE HOSTEL, GUYS. Written by the amazing nekopyo, whom I would not normally sponsor except his writing is, in fact, totally awesome. Professional jealousy, I can has it! Guess the crazy writer genes run in the family.
From the author: Ha ha. A prequel of sorts for a Megaman X AU bouncing around in my head. Takes place vaguely after the X4 game; hints at original characters. Still a work in progress. Thanks to miarr for hosting, though at what price...
Prelude in G
It was named the ‘Tower of Genesis’, because any building so big and so important deserved a biblical reference. Also known as the current residence of one Dr. Cain, and where Megaman X was heading for the day. It was a reploid factory, in the simplest and purest sense of the word. Actually, that was a lie. It was the reploid factory. Thirty-seven stories, towering over every other building in the city, and just as big below ground. Bigger, actually. Originally, it was Dr. Cain’s own lab, but once the reploid race started to flourish the building kept getting bigger and bigger, like a temple whose workers got overzealous. Nowadays, nearly every single reploid was created-it was considered politically incorrect not to say born, but he still allowed himself-in that tower.
The civilian reploids were all constructed above ground level, while underground laboratories built combat models as well as more common robots. Everything from construction machines to cleaning units was built in the underground labs. Lower still were the recycling factories. Trash collecting units from all over the city brought spare parts and scrap metal, to be remade into something new and useful.
Of course, a construction lab so large and complex was like a Maverick catastrophe just waiting to happen. For that reason, Hunter HQ was built around the tower, forming a ring which surrounded the entire structure. No matter how often X looked at it, the whole thing still reminded him of a dog collar. It was a knee-jerk thought, but he couldn’t shake it off.
Besides, everything inside the Tower was sterilized and scanned for viruses every three hours, just in case.
About two years back the good doctor had decided he was getting too old to be running the Hunters. It happened after his fifth heart attack-once again caused because Zero went completely batshit crazy during a raid, and communications got cut off at a bad time. When they got back to the base, Cain was in the Med Ward, and they were both expecting the usual earful for making him worry. Instead, he called them in and announced his retirement.
So he left the Hunters in the hands of his counselors-who were used to running the show, because once the man had reached eighty-seven his health took a nosedive-and retired back to the Tower. Nowadays he rarely left. X suspected it was equal parts wanting the comfort of a familiar place and the fact that his respirator was the size of a small car. As Cain himself commented during his last visit, he had more pipes in him than the Mushroom Kingdom. For some reason Dr. Cain always used analogies from at least a century ago around X, probably because no one else around still understood them.
X hadn’t the heart to tell him he had no idea what he was talking about.
Entering the Tower was always a strange feeling, like he wished he had hair just so it could stand on the back of his neck. Sentience always came with a bagful of instincts, but as a machine he could never figure out why he had them. Humans were lucky in that regard. They could get away with having animal instincts or being superstitious.
X had to take two elevators to reach Cain’s quarters, the first at the far end of the reception hall, where pretty much everyone came for their own reploid. Humans building robots, reploids building robots, couples designing their kids based on a mix the original blueprints; heck, there were even some humans who came to adopt reploid children nowadays. All you had to do was come in with the building prints, or at least some general suggestions. Then it was only a few scans and personality quizzes and you were good to go.
The second elevator had transparent paneling, purposefully showing the colossal laboratories of the Tower. All around him, machinery whisked and whizzed in an elaborate dance to create life. This was the creepiest part of every visit. Zero always complained about the view giving him goosebumps and said he’ll visit some other time, or just call later, or he was too busy training Axl, or oh but his hair totally needed washing today. Well, the last one wasn’t really Zero, but X was always a bit annoyed at having to face the Tower alone. Seeing someone get put together was almost as disturbing as seeing someone get taken apart. Still, he felt it was important to visit Dr. Cain at least once a week. Twice a month. Honest.
The automated doors opened, not quite soundlessly, as X entered the personal quarters. It was hard not to think of Dr. Cain as being in his ‘usual chair’, but calling his ventilator that would be just a bit cruel. The entire contraption swiveled on tiny wheels at his entry, turning until Cain and X were facing each other. Looking at Dr. Cain was a lot better than looking at the room itself, which was almost bare but for an enormous wall-to-wall window showing nearly the same scenery as the elevator ride. Cain actually liked seeing all that.
X went through his usual routine of glancing over the doctor, looking for any sign of discomfort or hurt. The long beard was still well-kept, the skin on his scalp didn’t look unhealthy, and his eyes were still clear and intelligent. His blue robes had been revised after his departure from the Hunters, of course, since now everything from the back of his neck to the middle of his spine was a mass of pipes and tubes. Every drop of blood in the doctor’s body was circulated and oxygenated intravenously in his respirator, as well as all his bodily fluids and digested sustenance. The man still went through the motions of eating two meals a day, but X thought it was mostly for the sake of his caretaker. Cain always did hate for other people to be worried.
“If you’re still trying to find some sort of gerontological disease or other, you can stop that,” Cain grumbled at him, but it was good natured. “I have other people do that at me all day without you coming over to help them.” Metallic arms steepled their fingers at him, connected to the doctor’s chair. His real arms rested at his sides, convulsing lightly from the small electric currents that went through his entire body to prevent muscle atrophy. “Now tell me about that trouble out west. I managed to wrestle some knowledge from the prudes I left behind, but they seem to think any sort of excitement would make my head implode. The insufferable wretches.” Cain paused, as though belatedly realizing his faux pas. “Also, um, hello. It’s wonderful to see you again, X. How are you doing?”
X couldn’t help but grin again, just a little sheepish, like any other time he was talking to Dr. Cain. “I don’t know much myself, Doctor.” Only Zero ever got away with calling Cain ‘doc’. “All we know is that someone is making trouble. Pyre Sua and his team were the ones who took the mission. My own unit is still in the off-time between patrols.” He paused as well, mimicking the elderly scientist. “Fine, thank you for asking. It’s great to see you too.”
Cain harrumphed and did his eyebrow thing, which meant he knew X still had more to tell him. For some reason, X could never stand elderly men who twitched their eyebrows suggestively. It was probably hereditary. Doctor Light never twitched his eyebrows.
“All right, fine. We do have just a tiny bit more than that.” Even confessing was better than the eyebrow treatment.
“About time, boy. Haven’t I just told you I’m going crazy with boredom? I’m bossy by nature, and too old to be changing my ways.” Dr. Cain was grinning broadly now, still every bit the original commander of the largest armed forces the world over. “So, out with it. Who is it Sua went to teach manners this time?”
“All we have now is a name, Doctor. Someone who goes by Doctor Weil.”
Cain leaned back into his chair, looking thoughtful. Then he asked X to spell Weil out for him. “Nope. Not anyone I know of. It’s a little weird to be operating in the dark again after so many years of fighting the same fights.” The next pause was just a little too long for him to sound nonchalant. “Still, Pyre is a good Hunter with a well-balanced unit. I can’t imagine him having any trouble, eh?”
X could only grunt back noncommittally. It was probably his own imagination, but Dr. Cain’s smile looked just a little bit forced. He had his own doubts about this mission. Sure, there was nothing ominous in the briefing, but still. The name Weil had a bad feeling to it, but he couldn’t for the life of him say why.
All characters © their respective owners; I claim no right nor profit. Original characters © nekopyo, right reserved, whatever.
nekopyo: So, hey, I've been thinking about writing a Megaman X fic.
miarr: YES WRITE IT.
nekopyo: Well, I wrote it.
miarr: YES POST IT.
nekopyo: Can I post it at your journal?
miarr: YES GIVE IT-wait, what?
SO NOW I AM A FREE HOSTEL, GUYS. Written by the amazing nekopyo, whom I would not normally sponsor except his writing is, in fact, totally awesome. Professional jealousy, I can has it! Guess the crazy writer genes run in the family.
From the author: Ha ha. A prequel of sorts for a Megaman X AU bouncing around in my head. Takes place vaguely after the X4 game; hints at original characters. Still a work in progress. Thanks to miarr for hosting, though at what price...
Prelude in G
It was named the ‘Tower of Genesis’, because any building so big and so important deserved a biblical reference. Also known as the current residence of one Dr. Cain, and where Megaman X was heading for the day. It was a reploid factory, in the simplest and purest sense of the word. Actually, that was a lie. It was the reploid factory. Thirty-seven stories, towering over every other building in the city, and just as big below ground. Bigger, actually. Originally, it was Dr. Cain’s own lab, but once the reploid race started to flourish the building kept getting bigger and bigger, like a temple whose workers got overzealous. Nowadays, nearly every single reploid was created-it was considered politically incorrect not to say born, but he still allowed himself-in that tower.
The civilian reploids were all constructed above ground level, while underground laboratories built combat models as well as more common robots. Everything from construction machines to cleaning units was built in the underground labs. Lower still were the recycling factories. Trash collecting units from all over the city brought spare parts and scrap metal, to be remade into something new and useful.
Of course, a construction lab so large and complex was like a Maverick catastrophe just waiting to happen. For that reason, Hunter HQ was built around the tower, forming a ring which surrounded the entire structure. No matter how often X looked at it, the whole thing still reminded him of a dog collar. It was a knee-jerk thought, but he couldn’t shake it off.
Besides, everything inside the Tower was sterilized and scanned for viruses every three hours, just in case.
About two years back the good doctor had decided he was getting too old to be running the Hunters. It happened after his fifth heart attack-once again caused because Zero went completely batshit crazy during a raid, and communications got cut off at a bad time. When they got back to the base, Cain was in the Med Ward, and they were both expecting the usual earful for making him worry. Instead, he called them in and announced his retirement.
So he left the Hunters in the hands of his counselors-who were used to running the show, because once the man had reached eighty-seven his health took a nosedive-and retired back to the Tower. Nowadays he rarely left. X suspected it was equal parts wanting the comfort of a familiar place and the fact that his respirator was the size of a small car. As Cain himself commented during his last visit, he had more pipes in him than the Mushroom Kingdom. For some reason Dr. Cain always used analogies from at least a century ago around X, probably because no one else around still understood them.
X hadn’t the heart to tell him he had no idea what he was talking about.
Entering the Tower was always a strange feeling, like he wished he had hair just so it could stand on the back of his neck. Sentience always came with a bagful of instincts, but as a machine he could never figure out why he had them. Humans were lucky in that regard. They could get away with having animal instincts or being superstitious.
X had to take two elevators to reach Cain’s quarters, the first at the far end of the reception hall, where pretty much everyone came for their own reploid. Humans building robots, reploids building robots, couples designing their kids based on a mix the original blueprints; heck, there were even some humans who came to adopt reploid children nowadays. All you had to do was come in with the building prints, or at least some general suggestions. Then it was only a few scans and personality quizzes and you were good to go.
The second elevator had transparent paneling, purposefully showing the colossal laboratories of the Tower. All around him, machinery whisked and whizzed in an elaborate dance to create life. This was the creepiest part of every visit. Zero always complained about the view giving him goosebumps and said he’ll visit some other time, or just call later, or he was too busy training Axl, or oh but his hair totally needed washing today. Well, the last one wasn’t really Zero, but X was always a bit annoyed at having to face the Tower alone. Seeing someone get put together was almost as disturbing as seeing someone get taken apart. Still, he felt it was important to visit Dr. Cain at least once a week. Twice a month. Honest.
The automated doors opened, not quite soundlessly, as X entered the personal quarters. It was hard not to think of Dr. Cain as being in his ‘usual chair’, but calling his ventilator that would be just a bit cruel. The entire contraption swiveled on tiny wheels at his entry, turning until Cain and X were facing each other. Looking at Dr. Cain was a lot better than looking at the room itself, which was almost bare but for an enormous wall-to-wall window showing nearly the same scenery as the elevator ride. Cain actually liked seeing all that.
X went through his usual routine of glancing over the doctor, looking for any sign of discomfort or hurt. The long beard was still well-kept, the skin on his scalp didn’t look unhealthy, and his eyes were still clear and intelligent. His blue robes had been revised after his departure from the Hunters, of course, since now everything from the back of his neck to the middle of his spine was a mass of pipes and tubes. Every drop of blood in the doctor’s body was circulated and oxygenated intravenously in his respirator, as well as all his bodily fluids and digested sustenance. The man still went through the motions of eating two meals a day, but X thought it was mostly for the sake of his caretaker. Cain always did hate for other people to be worried.
“If you’re still trying to find some sort of gerontological disease or other, you can stop that,” Cain grumbled at him, but it was good natured. “I have other people do that at me all day without you coming over to help them.” Metallic arms steepled their fingers at him, connected to the doctor’s chair. His real arms rested at his sides, convulsing lightly from the small electric currents that went through his entire body to prevent muscle atrophy. “Now tell me about that trouble out west. I managed to wrestle some knowledge from the prudes I left behind, but they seem to think any sort of excitement would make my head implode. The insufferable wretches.” Cain paused, as though belatedly realizing his faux pas. “Also, um, hello. It’s wonderful to see you again, X. How are you doing?”
X couldn’t help but grin again, just a little sheepish, like any other time he was talking to Dr. Cain. “I don’t know much myself, Doctor.” Only Zero ever got away with calling Cain ‘doc’. “All we know is that someone is making trouble. Pyre Sua and his team were the ones who took the mission. My own unit is still in the off-time between patrols.” He paused as well, mimicking the elderly scientist. “Fine, thank you for asking. It’s great to see you too.”
Cain harrumphed and did his eyebrow thing, which meant he knew X still had more to tell him. For some reason, X could never stand elderly men who twitched their eyebrows suggestively. It was probably hereditary. Doctor Light never twitched his eyebrows.
“All right, fine. We do have just a tiny bit more than that.” Even confessing was better than the eyebrow treatment.
“About time, boy. Haven’t I just told you I’m going crazy with boredom? I’m bossy by nature, and too old to be changing my ways.” Dr. Cain was grinning broadly now, still every bit the original commander of the largest armed forces the world over. “So, out with it. Who is it Sua went to teach manners this time?”
“All we have now is a name, Doctor. Someone who goes by Doctor Weil.”
Cain leaned back into his chair, looking thoughtful. Then he asked X to spell Weil out for him. “Nope. Not anyone I know of. It’s a little weird to be operating in the dark again after so many years of fighting the same fights.” The next pause was just a little too long for him to sound nonchalant. “Still, Pyre is a good Hunter with a well-balanced unit. I can’t imagine him having any trouble, eh?”
X could only grunt back noncommittally. It was probably his own imagination, but Dr. Cain’s smile looked just a little bit forced. He had his own doubts about this mission. Sure, there was nothing ominous in the briefing, but still. The name Weil had a bad feeling to it, but he couldn’t for the life of him say why.
All characters © their respective owners; I claim no right nor profit. Original characters © nekopyo, right reserved, whatever.