-Due Vendetta- Part 1

He smiled. Tonight had gone well. No slip-ups, no off-notes, nothing. It had been one of their best performances to date in his mind. Afterwards, the fans had been pleasant and highly entertaining as always. However, despite all this, something seemed... odd. Waving in greeting at the rest of the band, he headed for the bathroom. The makeup was cloying, and if not removed soon would stain his skin. His "perfect" skin, which perfectly offset his "perfect" smile on his "perfect" face.

Turbo Lover was a man some considered to be close to perfect. Playing the role of a younger Wily showed off his natural charisma and charm, but sometimes it was hard to tell whether he was playing a role or living it. There was a reason behind this. Placing his fedora on the side in the bathroom and turning on the lone tap, he splashed his face with icy water, and immediately felt somewhat revived. Their life was tiring, always singing, always dancing, always travelling... He almost wished that they would not have to move again, but in order to escape Wily's clutches they had no choice but to do so. They had to survive, to stay free, to spread the message of Light.

Or did they?

This thought made him freeze. Of course they did. If they remained here, they would be caught, imprisoned, tortured and executed. What they were doing was treason, no doubt about it.

If it's treason... then stop. Redeem yourself...Albert....

He clenched his fists. This again. These thoughts of traitorous actions did come to mind, but he would never betray The Protomen. He had too much to redeem himself for already, crimes committed before he was...

...Wait. Did his mind just call him Albert?

Indeed I did...

This was not good. Turbo Lover turned away from the mirror, trying to suppress what was rising inside of him. The dark, dingy bathroom, with scribbled messages of desperation, hope and sorrow covering the walls, seemed to darken further, the single, small light flickering on and off. Not now. Fear gripped him, made him close his eyes. Something inside of him was re-emerging as he played this role. It was his burden to bear, one that no other member of The Protomen shared. He couldn't tell them about these relapses; the thought of what would happen then scared him.

Becoming Turbo Lover had not been a peaceful experience.

Clutching his head, he felt the suppressed memories returning in flickers, like a crowd of flashing cameras. He remembered.... he had just done...something, and then he was taken by...a masked figure...

He had to get out of that room. Turning to face the door, he stepped forward, only to lose his footing and fall to the ground with a thud. Pain shot through his arms, but did nothing to stop the confusion in his head. He didn't want to remember these things, didn't want to remember the events that led to him being there, he just wanted to...

To sing?

Yes. To sing with the band, to help relay the truth, to spread the story so that people would remember what had happened., so that maybe they would rise up against the "Good Doctor".

Pitiful...

The memories continued to play in his mind. He had just left... an apartment... No, that had been a while ago. He had just given a press report live on television...

---

Yes, that was it, and was trying to leave as hundreds of journalists asked him countless questions. Now and again he replied, his voice taking on a stoic tone, now and again sounding sorrowful. An act, of course. He needed to keep in role. To lead the frenzied media circus, he had to be an emotional ringleader. Eventually, the crowd subsided, one or two asking what would now be considered trivial questions. Most likely for tabloid news sources. He broke them off, requesting time to console himself over the events, and then they too left.

Eventually, he was alone, walking the streets of the new City, heading for his car. However, as he reached it, a new voice was heard, one that was not entirely native to the area.

'Dr. Wily, we understand you're dealing with a lot at the moment, but... could I have a quick word?'

Turning around, Wily looked at this final journalist. Dressed fully in black, he certainly didn't look like the rest of the clowns he had encountered before. A red bandanna pushed his light brown hair away from his eyes, which were covered by aviator sunglasses. He certainly did not look like the kind of journalists that lived in the City, but... best to be safe than sorry.

"Depends on the word. I... am in need of time alone, you understand. Today has been truly shocking..." he replied, forcing tears to come into his eyes.
' Yes, well, no-one expected it to unfold like this... I was following Thomas Light's robotic developments, you see.'
He wanted to clench his fists. Thomas Light had always received the attention on the project, despite the fact that he had been the one with more talent when it came to robotics. They had been good friends, however... but in the end it had become clear that they were working towards different goals all along.

"I see..."
'The project was supposed to be culminating in your creation's activations today, wasn't it?' The man noted, pulling a folder out of a battered brown bag hanging from his shoulders.
"Indeed. The mining robots were tested, and found to be running at acceptable rates-"
'Very coincidental for these events to happen a few hours later then... and for Light's lover to be murdered in such a brutal manner.' The man's tone brought his obvious suspicions into play. This was worrying.
"Indeed, a sad coincidence..."
'Especially considering that the main suspect, Light, was obviously very devoted to her' the man continued, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of the folder.

A shocked look washed over Wily's face. The paper was stained with blood, and he recognized the handwriting. It was the letter Light had sent to Emily, the one he had been looking for.  How had this man found it? That was incriminating...

He had to keep a straight face, but knew now that this man had to be silenced.

"Indeed he had been... May I see his letter?"
'How do you know it was his?'
"I... I worked with the man for many years, sir, I can recognize his handwriting.... I... how did you get that?" Concern was clear in his voice, he felt no point in hiding it now. This was not an interview, that had dawned on him.
' Why, are you afraid that I read it? Because if you are, then I wouldn't need to to know what happened' the man replied, putting the letter back into the folder, before taking off his sunglasses.

At that point, someone – or something – grabbed Wily's arms, pulling him backwards. He yelled, struggling against the vice-like grip of his assailant, only to feel a hand covering his mouth, trying to silence him. The streets were empty, and no-one would have run to help him anyway.  Mugging was common, and people were reluctant to stop someone for fear of their own lives. He was pulled into an alleyway, grimy and dark. No-one would see what would happen next, he knew that, and so he had to get himself out. The man threw the folder onto the ground, and countless other pictures spun out of it. Horrified, Wily realised that each was of him, at various times during the last few days. One was even at the point when he and Tom were arguing, which was impossible. No cameras were allowed in their offices, and there was no one else in at the time. How did they...

' No point struggling, Wily. KILROY isn't going to let go any time soon, and if a man can bend steel with his bare hands, there's no way he'll let you slip away' the man murmured, pulling a pair of fingerless gloves onto his hands. ' We know what you've done, Wily, and we know what you're planning to do.' He gestured at KILROY, and Wily felt the hand being removed from his mouth.
" How can you know what I've planned?"
' Because we're living through it in our timeline.'
"...What?"

The man turned away, crossing his arms. ' This isn't the time that we come from, Wily, but this City's events mirror the ones that's happened to ours. We can stop your plans from being enacted here... but this won't affect our timeline.'
"Hmph... then why bother, if it won't help you?"
The man turned to face him once more.

'Because we need you to stop your future self.'
"...Heh... so humanity is as weak minded as I thought-"
'No. People just need to realise the truth of the situation, and then they'll rise up against you. That's what we do.'
"We? I assume you mean this..." he tried to pull his arms free, to no avail, "thing behind me, as well as yourself... but two people can't stand against what I have planned."
'It's not just us two... And I wouldn't insult the man holding your arms back, personally. There's many more of us.'
"How many?"
'I can only tell you that... if you join us.'

"Join you? Now why would I do that?" he sneered, regaining some of his composure.
'It gives you a chance to redeem yourself, Wily. Surely you must feel some regret for what you've done.'
" I...." He mulled it over. Looking away from the man in front of him, he could sense that this man knew the answer... he had tried to justify it to himself before... but no. What was done was done. No regrets, no looking back. "If there ever was a time, if there ever was a chance, to undo the things I've done and wash these bloodstains from my hands..."

He lifted his head back up. "It is past, and been forgotten."

The man shook his head. ' Not quite.'
" Yes it has. What makes you think I'd give this up. I deserve this City. I've worked all my life towards this goal. Judging from how much you know about me, you know what I've been through..." His eyes closed, and a sinister chuckle rang through the alleyway.
'...You'll either join us peacefully, or we can do this the hard way' the man growled, a look mixed with concern and anger covering his face.
"You really think I'll just throw this all away for idle threats?"
' Idle?'  

The man leant forward, pointing a finger straight into Wily's face. 'These aren't idle threats, Wily. We don't make promises we can't keep.'
"I'm not going anywhere" he replied, unfaltering in his expression.
'You're leaving this City with us, one way or another!'
"If that's the case, then you've forgotten something important."
' And what would that be?'

A noise behind him made the man jump. Spinning on the spot, he was suddenly looking straight into a single red light. The next moment, he was on the ground, sunglasses smashing into thousands of pieces as he was blinded temporarily, a sharp pain from his left arm flooding his remaining senses. Staggering back to his feet, the man seemed to realise what had happened. The Sniper! The red faded from his vision as he saw KILROY whacked in the back, the robot now pulling a knife from a holster on its leg. Rushing forward, the man grabbed the robotic limb just before the blade met its mark, and shoved the construction into the wall. He could hear Wily's footsteps, hear him running away. The man cursed under his breath, before regaining his focus.

'KILROY! Are you okay?' he shouted, struggling to keep Wily's Monster pinned to the wall. KILROY nodded, rising up again and taking the robot's arms in hand.
'I'll hold this thing, Panther. You get Wily.'
' Right... good luck!'

Panther ran after Wily, leaving his bandmate to fight the robot alone. KILROY was hardy, and he had faith in his fighting abilities, but right now he had to concentrate on catching the fleeing tyrant. Breathing deeply, he sprinted as fast as he could.
' You're not getting away, Wily!'

This made Wily glance back. So the Sniper hadn't managed to dispatch him just yet... no matter. He might not be much of a fighter, but if there was one other thing that the doctor could do, it was running like hell. The distance between the two men widened, Wily gaining hope. Maybe he would escape this event... and if he did, it could give him more power to control the media. He would twist this event to make it seem as though Light had set the Sniper on him, to further enrage the public-

That thought was cut short as Wily was tackled to the ground. He had been so lost in his plans that he had slowed down, and the man that he now knew was called...Panther... had caught up. Rolling to a stop, it was now his turn to feel pain rushing through his body. It felt like he had broken a rib.

' You're not...going...anywhere...Wily...' Panther wheezed, pinning him to the floor. Out of desperation, Wily tried to struggle free once more, but was finally knocked out by a swift punch to the face. Gasping for breath, he rolled to the ground, watching as KILROY approached, an oil-covered green helmet in his gloved hands. He stood there quietly, waiting for Panther to stop wheezing. Eventually, he managed to catch his breath, before slowly rising to his feet.

That...had not gone entirely to plan...

---

A knock on the door brought Turbo Lover to his senses. He felt groggy as he rose to his feet, opening the door. He...was not expecting to remember that. Suppressing that memory had taken a lot of effort, for it to re-emerge now...

'You've been taking your time in there, Turbo... you okay?' Commander asked, a slightly worried look on his face.
"I'm fine, just tired..."
'There was a thud earlier though... did you fall over?'
"...Yeah, didn't notice how wet the floor is in here"

Commander crossed his arms, a slightly doubtful look on his face. However, he didn't see any reason to doubt him. They'd be running ragged recently, deliberately performing more than usual to rally hope amongst the people of the City. They had felt like they were getting close to a breakthrough... this hope had faded slightly, as had their stamina. After tonight, they were planning on hiding out for a few weeks, recuperating themselves and repairing some of the instruments...

After a few seconds, Commander smiled and nodded at Turbo Lover.

'Good thing we're taking a break, you look completely shattered' he noted, laughing.
"Yeah, it's gonna be nice to rest up... but we need to get back to this as soon as we can."
' True that. I'll leave you to finish up in here, see you in five!'

And with that, Commander left, closing the door, leaving Turbo Lover alone, and...somewhat confused at what had just happened. How long had he been out? Why was he remembering that now? Did he want to remember it? He knew the answer to that was no. He had a purpose here, and the chance to change this City to something better than this.

...He sighed with relief. That voice in his mind didn't raise an argument. Good. Hopefully it would stay that way. It probably only re-emerged due to fatigue, something that he'd make sure wouldn't be a problem again. Walking towards the still running tap, he turned it off, picked his fedora up from the side, and had one last look in the mirror before leaving. He hadn't noticed one small change, however...

His eyes had turned blue.

---

A few weeks had passed since the Protomen's last concert, and the entire band felt cautiously optimistic about their next performance, despite their time off not exactly being...restful. They had managed to secure an abandoned warehouse for the concert, a larger venue than usual. It was good, for when they hadn't been performing, they had kept moving to avoid capture, something that had almost happened more than once over the last few days.

Tonight's performance promised to be dramatic.

There were only a few hours left, and whilst most of them felt ready, some were still setting up the instruments. Panther was checking the microphones, The Nightwalker was making sure that her trumpet was in tune, and Commander was checking the cables.

Turbo Lover was preening himself in the reflection of a guitar.

The City had grown quieter over the last few weeks. Without them, it seemed as though people lost their fire. Minor rebellions had dried up, with only one happening... and that had been subdued frighteningly efficiently. People seemed content to listen to the mantra, with no other sounds to drown it out. That was...worrying. Was what they were doing pointless, if mankind wouldn't stand for themselves after everything they had done?

....He shook his head, forcing those thoughts out. He had been haunted by the memories he had remembered after their last performance, shaken by the re-emergence of a part of him he thought was dead. If he kept focused on tonight, it wouldn't come back. He'd make sure of that.

Finally deciding that he couldn't possibly comb his hair any more, Turbo Lover stood up, tucking the comb back into the breast pocket of his grey suit. Deciding to get out of the way of those actually setting things up, he walked off the stage, jumping to the floor, and decided to stand by The Gambler. Something about her made him relax, possibly because of her role as Emily, more likely just because she, like the rest of the band, was a comrade in their fight. They all understood each other almost innately, so much so that secrets were rare between them.

The two had just started talking, however, when something strange began to happen. The mantra that constantly boomed through the streets became quiet as a crackle of static filled the ears of all who lived in the City. Everyone dropped what they were doing, instinctively looking towards the source of the noise. All over the City, the telescreens stopped showing the mantra, rolling slowly over their monitors, as the face of a man everyone knew appeared in it's place.

The "Good Doctor" cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"My people... I trust that you know why I speak to you now. You have all become much more compliant. This is good. However, I do not waste my own time to simply announce that. This is not a broadcast of praising merits, but rather one of denouncing false heroes."

The band all looked at each other. Any sense of optimism they had had was now gone.

"As you all well know, these so-called prophets have been spreading dissent amongst the City, amongst each and every one of you," he continued, " but rest assured, we will find them, and this City shall be safe. Right now they hound those who do not believe their lies, forcing them to see things their way, or, as was the case with their long-dead "friend", Doug Fetterman... kill them for simply not agreeing."

Turbo Lover stiffened. These broadcasts happened from time to time, and these kinds of statements were not uncommon. The Protomen had not wanted him to die, he had simply been the victim of a tragic accident, a performance gone horribly wrong. This was one of Wily's most common ploys used against the band, twisting his betrayal to Wily into one against them. However, considering the events that he had gone through recently, Turbo Lover could not help but feel that the usually empty words...

Might actually ring true?

...No. He was simply trying to unnerve them, to scare the people. His words were empty as always, and he would simply ignore them.

"Fetterman had long been loyal to my cause, to our cause, and his death brought sorrow to this City. However, if the Protomen believe this gave them an advantage, they are truly mistaken. One man fell for our cause, but this does not mean that our cause is not lost. Do not believe their lies. Do not believe their words. Do not believe the Protomen. Believe in the Robot Masters, believe in the Sniper Joes, and believe in me, for we are your hope, we keep you safe, and we are in control."

And with that, Wily disappeared from the screen, the Mantra resuming its usual broadcast through the speakers. The group remained quiet for a short while, before Commander sighed.

'Pssh... Complete and utter garbage' he muttered. 'The man ruins Fetterman's name, and for what cause? Keeping humanity as his slaves? If people really want that, then we wouldn't be-'
'There's no point wasting our energy talking about what he said' Panther interrupted. There was a hurt tone to his voice. ' We all know it's lies. C'mon, we still have work to do here, and there's only two hours until the people arrive.'

Everyone nodded, returning to what they were doing before, this time with a tense atmosphere hanging over everyone's head, like a guillotine. The Gambler turned back to Turbo Lover, but he had gone. He needed to be alone for a while, needed to just...clear his mind. Leaning against the wall in the corridor, his face covered by his hand, he felt a familiar sense of panic rise in him. Not again. That voice had returned. He did not need this, did not want this. He had his job, his duty, his mission to do tonight, and could not do with any distractions.

None of them had expected that to happen, especially so near to a concert. It almost seemed like a warning, as though Wily knew about tonight, but this couldn't be possible. In fact, it was incredibly unlikely. Probably just bad luck to have the broadcast at that time. It would make them all nervous throughout the gig. Still, being nervous was better than being captured.

If you were captured...
You could tell Wily what happened to you...
How they changed you...
Forced you to-

Stop it he pleaded, trying to subdue the voice in his mind. I do not want to be captured, and I'll never work with that madman!

Why not? He achieved my dream... OUR dream. He embodies our hopes and ambitions, our reward for dedicating our lives to the study of robotics!

He might embody your plans, but not mine. You dedicated your life to enslaving; I'll dedicate mine to freedom-

You really call this...freedom?

Pressing his hands to his temples, Turbo Lover winced, before walking down the corridor. He couldn't let anyone see him like this, couldn't let anyone else worry about his wellbeing. He'd be fine... he just had to learn to control this.

You can't control me, Albert. I am you. You can't control yourself.

I am not you. And don't call me Albert.... My name...is Turbo Lover!

The voice in his mind seemed to laugh. Losing his balance, he slipped, but managed to balance himself against a window. He had walked a long way away from the concert hall, and could see the lights City spread out in front of him through the night, and his face reflected in the glass...

But it was not his face, but the face of the man he once was. A man painted with the vain "W" Turbo Lover wore during his performances stared back at him, a sinister grin on his face and a dangerous look in his blue eyes, contrasting the terror in his own, brown eyes.

"You see all of this?" his reflection seemed to say, gesturing across the City. "If you would just reach out and grab it, it could be yours. Ours. We could control this City alongside the Wily of this universe, if only you'd accept who you really are"
"I don't want to control the City. I want to set the people who live in it free!" he shouted in reply, anger making his voice louder. The reflection seemed to laugh at this, the same chuckle he remembered from his memories.
"But you are just a construction, a fake personality created to control you. I am who you really are!"
"It doesn't matter who I am, but what I do!"
"Do you really believe that?"
"I'd rather believe that than believe you."

The reflection seemed to become annoyed. It turned it's back on Turbo Lover, crossing its arms.

"These people really have gotten to you... pathetic, Albert."
"Turbo Lover. And no, they showed me that what you wanted to do was wrong, something that I always knew deep inside."

The reflection laughed again, louder this time, and once more he had to press his hands to the side of his head, trying to stop the splitting headache that had started as suddenly as a car crash in his mind.

"You held my views of this City, once." the reflection eventually said, turning to face him once more. "Or have you forgotten?"

The headache worsened. Turbo Lover could feel his ability to think leeched away, replaced by the pain and a feeling of helplessness. His vision darkened, his eyelids growing heavy as the reflection changed from the side of him he wanted to hide to something else. The City seemed to disappear, the glass becoming grey, static washing over his ears. He wanted this to stop, tried to struggle free from the noise, but knew that it was hopeless as more and more memories dragged themselves from the depths of his mind.

Memories of his first day in this City, in the City that was clearly not the one he knew, and yet was identical in layout and history...

Apart from one important detail....

---

This City had been controlled by Wily. The one he had come from no longer had that threat.

This was painfully remembered by Wily, hands bound behind him as he looked across the cracked and ruined street, illuminated only by flickering orange streetlamps and the harsh blue light of the telescreens, noting the shadows of the people of this City, huddled into shadowy corners or around any sources of heat they could find. He stiffened as he looked around, feeling their eyes staring at him and remembering the events that had happened to him just a short while ago, but to this City likely never happened at all.

" Why are we here, Raul Panther?" he groaned. It hurt to speak; the punch to his face that had rendered him unconscious beforehand had badly bruised his cheek, turning his handsome face into a purple mess. The bruise had been treated as best as possible, but it always took time for them to heal.
'Just call me Panther' he replied, a new pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. He still wore all black, but his clothes seemed... grimier here, covered in patches of dirt and diesel. The pristine quality they had before had long gone, as in this time, where survival was the top priority, cleanliness was not a requirement, at least not for the clothing. His acoustic guitar, strapped to his back, was scratched but lovingly cleaned, a precious item that was in stark contrast to the rest of the City, as well as a blatant show of rebellion towards Wily's rule. 'And I want you to see what the world you wanted to create looks like.'
"Hmph..."

Wily turned away from his captor, an indignant look on his face. "It's not going to change my mind, no matter what you show me, Raul Panther."
'...'

Panther walked ahead of him. His mood was unreadable, for whilst his face seemed worried, his body language seemed relaxed, much moreso than he had been before. He too had a bruise, one that covered his left arm from his elbow to his shoulder, but he had refused to let it stop him from doing his job.

'You're not making this any easier for yourself' he said, gesturing for Wily to follow him. Having no other choice, he complied, looking away from his captor. He kept testing the strength of the handcuffs, hoping to find some weakness in their grip, but it was useless. Their steel chains would not give.
"Why would I listen to you?" he snorted, noting a collection of posters plastered to the walls, each with separate slogans and different images. The one that caught his eye was that of an old man. He assumed that it was the Wily of this universe, and felt somewhat worried. Is that what he would look like when he grew older? The thought of it made him shudder.
'Because otherwise this City will eat you alive' Panther replied, noting the shuddering movement. He assumed that it was a sign of fear of this hellish place, that maybe bringing the "Good Doctor" out of the dingy building that they had been hiding in and onto the streets would help show Wily the error of his ways. Adjusting his sunglasses, he turned to face the handcuffed man. 'Scared of that happening?'

"Not really. People can be manipulated easily, told to play roles they never thought they could" Wily replied, a smug look once more coming over his face, one that looked twisted by the purple blotch covering his face. "Being scared is an alien concept to me, Raul Panther. In every situation, you are given a blank canvas, and different tools to paint with. My tools are knowledge and confidence. Having fear in that spectrum would simply clash with the other colours."

Wily looked at Panther's face, smirking at his now worried expression before his eyes swept over the streets, absorbing the scene. "You see these people, Raul Panther, you see the grime and the cracks and the chaos. To you this street is just that, and nothing more, but to me... the contrast between the blue light of those television screens and the darkness of those alleyways, the flickering of the orange streetlamps and the shadows that they cast, the emptiness of the streets..."

He nodded towards an alleyway. "and the crowded back alleys filled with those that believe every word , topped by the man that you fear's fortress rising high above the cityscape...this City is not a location, it's a masterpiece, painted by a master. Your Wily is an artist. I have that same potential-"

Panther turned back to face Wily, anger washing over his face before he controlled himself. 'The only kind of artist he is, Wily, is a con artist' he growled. 'The people here live in terror, are fed lies and forced to believe them or die. The only lights are harsh and unforgiving, the darkness the only slight haven, the food is either scarce or rotten and the robots are unforgiving and quick to give their warped judgement on humanity. All because you lied, and because this Wily built the city to satisfy his vain beliefs.'

"His beliefs weren't vain. He deserved this City. I deserved this City."
'This Wily stole the City from Thomas Light. You wanted to, and for what? Recognition? Glory? Power? If that isn't vanity then I don't know what is'
"Then you don't know what it is."

Panther turned away, shaking his head, once more gesturing at Wily to follow him. Once more, he complied, his eyes resting on the guitar strapped to his captor's back. Suddenly, a new plan was born in his mind... there was no other member of Raul Panther's gang of musical thugs with them. This meant that, if he could escape from the handcuffs, he had a decent chance of grabbing that guitar and-

Panther froze. Bumping into him, Wily scowled as he was broken out of his thoughts, hitting his head on the guitar. "Why'd you stop?!"

Then he saw the people running through the streets. The sound of feet, stampeding on concrete, echoed by the thud of metal, an alien thud of metal to his ears, but one that was all too familiar to everyone else.

The Sniper Joes were parading through the streets.

Wily felt Panther grab him by the collar and pull him away, and panic took over his senses, making him run behind his captor, dragged through the crowds of people he didn't know and didn't care about. Then the screams started, the robots opening fire on the crowd. The sound of bones breaking, flesh tearing and dying howls filled everyone's ears, driving them all to run faster. For the first time in Wily's life, he shared an emotion with the general public.

Fear.

The crowd seemed to grow in size, the sense of panic concentrating. He felt his face betray his fear, just before another jerking movement pulled him into a dark alleyway. Panther was leading them away from the chaos, into the calmness of the shadows. The running slowed to a walk, before they both eventually stopped, collapsing against the alley walls. Both desperately tried to catch their breath, Panther's breathing more ragged than Wily's, taking longer to recover.

This let Wily absorb his surroundings, and to his horror he realised that he recognized this place. This was the alleyway that the man next to him had dragged him into, before kidnapping him. Anger surged through him as the memories played in his mind. He remembered being tricked into dropping his guard, his hands pinned behind him. He remembered the threats, remembered Panther trying to convince him through guilt. He remembered catching them off-guard with his creation, remembered running for his life...and he remembered how his foolishness had led to him being captured and punched in the face.

'Still think this City is beautiful?'

Panther's voice broke him out of his thoughts once more. Making a mental note to stop getting so wrapped up in them, Wily stood up, with some difficulty, and walked to the other side of the alleyway.

"Every Masterpiece has had its critics..."

Panther frowned, standing up himself before dusting himself down. Wily's scowl returned to his face.

"Oh, and don't think I owe you for saving my life there, Panther. If you hadn't handcuffed me-"
'Surely you should say Raul Panther, Wily?' Panther interrupted, the frown replaced by a mischievous grin. Wily opened his mouth to reply, to come up with something to beat Panther's words down...but having no words come to his lips, he closed his mouth and turned away with nothing more than a "hmph" to look at the irritatingly similar surroundings.

The place had certainly become dirtier since the last time he had been here. Or maybe it had always been this grimy, as he realized that he didn't really have time to absorb the details of the place on his last visit. However, what were definitely "new" additions were more posters of this universe's Wily, and one of another robot he barely recognized from a blueprint Tom and he had started planning, a small security robot with a built-in camera. Obviously, the design had been sound. He smirked, before looking back at Panther, who was checking his guitar for scratches.

"...I assume you and your group's rebellion motivates these killings?" Wily enquired, leaning against the wall in as nonchalant a manner he could muster. Panther looked away from his guitar.
'That had nothing to do with us' he explained, leaning the guitar against the wall carefully. 'They're done to make examples of humanity before they try to rise against him, to further instil fear in us all. Wily does that every other week to keep us in check.'
"A pity they keep missing you."

This made Panther visibly flinch. The man in front of him had just lived through one of Wily's pointless killing sprees, and that was all he had to say? No sympathy for those who died, only that he should've been amongst them? He felt confused, and his expression clearly showed it. A weakness had shown itself; Wily wasn't going to let this go to waste.

"If they did capture and kill you, Raul Panther, it seems likely to me that these events would at least be lessened. Surely your "band" are deliberately agitating the masses, rather than letting them accept this fate?" he noted, standing up straight and starting to pace slowly. "After all, false hope is just as cruel as torture in some books, moreso in others, and I don't know how long you've been trying to spread these messages of "hope", but looking on as an outsider..." He stopped for effect, both his speech and his pacing, looking Panther straight in the eyes, or at least as much as he could considering his sunglasses. "I can clearly see that it just isn't working."

'We know that we'll be doing what we're doing for a long time, Wily. We know because we used to be the same as those people' Panther replied, the confused look gone from his face, replaced by one of a stoic temperament.
"Really now?"
'Yup. We used to be part of that crowd of people, running and hiding, trying to survive to the next day. We knew something was wrong, but that didn't change anything...until one day we found someone...'

He trailed off, leaving Wily curious, but unwilling to sate it. He seemed to smile in an almost caring manner when he said, "Odd. Somehow I imagined your rabble had been fighting against your Wily from the second you left the womb, bandannas and all."
Panther laughed. 'Sadly, that isn't the case; otherwise this nightmare might not exist now...'

Another silence stretched between the two, Panther considering Wily's joke a sign that he might be getting through to him, and Wily cursing it in his mind. He knew that Raul Panther was a likable man, his charisma reminded him of himself, the way he could get people to feel comfortable around him, to make them trust him, to see his way of thinking and believe it. He himself knew that he was already starting to see some things in Pan-Raul Panther's way. There was needless suffering here, true... but Wily was a strong man. He knew that humanity deserved this suffering, and that he deserved this City. With his mind set on that, he broke the silence once more.

"This nightmare won't end, Raul Panther. The only way I can get out of it is not to join you, but to have you killed" he decided on saying, a grim look on his face. Panther soon matched this, before he sighed once more, crossing his arms.
'Think about it. If we're killed, you would be too. After all... you would've been seen with us, talked with us, travelled with us... That's more than just a little suspicious, isn't it?'
"Seen with you? It's been a day at most!"
'Look, do you really think I would come out in the streets usually in these clothes?' Panther asked, 'and with a guitar strapped to my back?'
"Why not? It's foolhardy, but everything you people do is-"
'When we travel, we wear civvies. Normal clothing. Not this stage outfit, otherwise we would have been caught years ago.'
"True... that outfit is far from inconspicuous... but then, why choose to wear it-Hang on..." He realised why, before Panther confirmed his fears.

'I wore it so the telescreens and the cameras would focus on me and, by proxy, you. After all, you're wearing the same type of clothes we wear now... keeping you in your suit would've been too dangerous, though.'
"So in other words, you've trapped me" Wily muttered bitterly.
'Yeah. Sorry, but I had no choice. We need you, Wily. We need your help, for the sake of this City.'

An odd feeling came over Wily, one he hadn't felt since Tom refused to help him with his plan... betrayal. He felt betrayed by Panther, trapped into a corner he couldn't fight out of. However, being backed into a corner didn't mean that he had to give up.

"So you have me on camera with you. Big deal. I'm handcuffed. Surely that would be suspicious."
'True, but not as suspicious as you talking to me. In this City, that's a death sentence.'
Wily's eyes widened, but he showed no other reaction. A new idea came to mind.
"This is a waste of time then. You know you have me backed into a corner. I run, I die. I stay... in a way, I die regardless. I'll have to give up everything that shapes me. I refuse to do that."

Panther didn't reply, instead leaning against the wall behind him once more, his arms still crossed as he stared at the man in front of him as he noticed something new to him.

"...Have those words played the entire time I've been here?" he asked, curious. He had heard the Mantra, booming through the streets. Oddly, he hadn't noticed it before, too wrapped up in himself and his predicament.
'It's Wily's Mantra' Panther explained, bowing his head slightly. 'It always plays, the same three sentences at the same beat every second of every day of every month of every year of my life, of the lives of all in the Protomen.'
"Hmm...Interesting that is has a rhythm close to iambic pentameter."
'Huh?' Panther raised his head.

"Iambic pentameter is when a sentence has five syllables, giving a steady pattern to the sound. It makes people more impressionable to what's being said. "We have Control, We keep you Safe, We are your Hope" only have four... I don't think iambic quartameter exists, but if it did, it would be defined as that."

'I honestly didn't expect you to know that, Wily' Panther admitted, smiling once more.
"Art comes in more than one form, you know."
'Yeah. Music's a form of art... another form banned in this City.'
"It makes sense to ban music. It's inspirational to people, driving them to do things they might not do otherwise..."
'You've got it.'

Panther's smile grew into a grin. Wily realised what he had said, and understood his reaction. Music was important, true, but not as important as retribution.

Eventually, Wily shook his head. "Yes, I understand about music, and appreciate it, but I won't join you, Raul Panther. Even if I can't rule this town, I'll find a way to serve the 'Good Doctor'. Who knows...if my future self gets too old for the job...perhaps he'd appoint me leader."
The grin disappeared from Panther's face. 'You really think Wily would trust another human?'
"If that human was himself, possibly, yes" Wily sneered. "And humanity would learn to fear me as they fear him."

Panther walked slowly towards him, his fists clenched. His mood had changed completely, a growl growing in his throat. Wily backed into the wall as he approached, holding his breath, not sure how else to react as Panther roared.
'Look what you'd become with this City you'd create. Ruling through fear. You may think you deserve it, but it wouldn't win you any popularity contests. There would be those who would overthrow you. People who would risk everything, even the robots, to see you dead!'

His shout echoed through the alleyways, before fading to leave the mantra and it's message of oppression. Panther was face to face with Wily, close enough for him to see through the tint of the sunglasses and look at his eyes, the pupils wide. After a while, Panther stepped back, turning away from him and walking back to his guitar, slightly ashamed he'd become angry. It was something that was against his nature. Wily breathed out, relaxing. He wasn't overly fussed about hurting Panther's feelings, he was just happy that he'd backed off. Still, he wanted to know just one thing...

"Tell me, Raul Panther... you ask me to join you, want me to give up everything I have worked towards... but for what gain to you?"
'...I'm fighting for this City, Wily, for the day when a person can be free, when a child doesn't have to be scared all the time, for the time when the truth is known'
"Yes yes, very honourable, but what are you fighting for, personally?"

Panther picked up the guitar, and sat down, leaning against the wall. 'I've lost a lot of very good friends whilst doing this... and for a cause that does seem impossible at times, but I have to keep fighting...'

He closed his eyes, adjusting the guitar on his lap, and strummed the strings absentmindedly. 'But why? I can't express that through words...'

He started playing a tune. One that seemed nostalgic, that held emotions, that showed them in every note. Wily felt like he knew the song, despite having never heard it before. His thoughts trailed back to the good times, the times he spent with Tom and...Emily. The laughs, the joys, the ideas... By god, the ideas they had when they first met. They planned out their lives together, decided to concentrate on robotics, honed their skills, and became the best at their craft...

And then he betrayed them...

...No. Tom had betrayed him.

He felt anger flare inside of him as the song ended, not noticing the single tear run down Panther's cheek, or the countless ones running down his.

"You...Why... Why did you make me remember?!" he shouted angrily, all pretence gone. Rage fuelled his words, rushed through his entire body. Emotions that he had tried to hold back came flooding out.
'That song makes everyone remember something different, Wily' Panther replied, rising to his feet again. 'Good times, bad times, remorse, happiness.. the spectrum of emotions it makes people feel is painted, not with tools of knowledge and confidence, but with sorrow, fear, hope and memories.'
"Y-You call yourself an artist?"
He shook his head. 'No. I call myself a storyteller.'

Wily struggled to break the handcuffs binding him. He wanted to hit Panther, to show him what happens when he lets this emotion loose, but there was no give in the steel. The steel would never bend or break, and his hands would not be free while his captors held the keys in theirs. Instead, he tried to shake his trilby hat over his eyes, before realising that it was gone. It must have fallen off in the panic of the stampede. That was his favourite hat, too...

He forced the tears to stop, ashamed of the emotional display, and composed himself. Panther waited, watching carefully. Despite his hands being free, he made no effort to wipe his single tear away. It was a reminder of a good friend, lost long ago now... the least he could do to honour him was not to wipe that memory away.

Eventually, Wily's tears dried, staining his bruised face. His voice, however, had returned to it's calm, treble note.

'Even if I do remember those times, they are gone. The day Light turned his back on me, his fate was sealed...' He sniggered shortly. 'By now, the police would have found him, taken him to court. He'd be found guilty...and be dead by now."
'He wouldn't. He was found not guilty.'
"What?!"
'There wasn't any actual incriminating evidence at the scene. His fingerprints weren't on the knife, and his reaction to police arriving was put down to his emotional state at the time. Thomas Light walked from the Courts a free man.'
"So all my hard work was for nothing? Unless you're just telling your story to try and trick me!"
'You should know that the story we tell isn't ours, Wily. It's Light's. You may think you'd own this City, but...there would be those who would resist you, those who'd challenge your power.'

Panther took off his sunglasses, carefully tucking them into the front of his shirt, and for the first time Wily looked him in the eyes. Green, determined eyes met his blue, cold ones. An honourable man talks face-to-face, eye-to-eye. What he was about to say must be important, he thought.

'Light was taken out of the City. Your manipulation of the public made them defy the court ruling, so he was escorted to safety, but he came back, Wily. He came back with one purpose, one mission that he was set on.'
"And what, pray tell me, is that mission, Raul Panther?"
'To kill you, Albert Wily.'

The emotion of fear was becoming too familiar to Wily today. He stepped back, visibly shaking, the chain on his handcuffs rattling. This was what he was afraid of, what he had tried to stop happening. Thomas Xavier Light wanted him dead, and nothing would have stopped him...

...Nothing would have stopped him, but...

Wily stopped shaking, and began to laugh, a sinister cackle that made Panther worried. Laughing at that news? Why would he laugh at that?

"Nothing would have stopped Light from killing me... from killing your Wily?" He said finally, his laughter ceasing.
'Yeah.'
"So then why, pray tell me, do you need me, because surely he must have succeeded at this plan years ago...But he didn't, did he?"
'....'
"He failed, didn't he? He failed miserably; most likely his failure caused the City to fully enter your Wily's hands. And even if he tried again, he failed then too. Thomas Light is a failure, Raul Panther. He's failed to stop your Wily, so now you need me to stop that Wily, which means even YOU can't stop him. But if I say no, then you all just keep on failing! HA! That is poetic justice!"

He laughed once more, but was interrupted. Panther had slammed him into the wall, winding him badly. Gasping for breath, Wily was pinned to the wall roughly by his shoulders. He could see the rage in his eyes.

'It's time to make your final choice Wily' he whispered, "You can either be a hero... or we can build one out of you.'
"You don't get it, do you, Raul Panther..." Wily responded. "To this City...I AM a hero."

Panther shook his head and let go of Wily's shoulders, letting him fall to the ground as he walked back to his guitar once more, slinging it over his shoulders.
'We'd prefer not to, but if pushed far enough, we have no choice' he said, sorrow clear in his voice.
"Nothing you try will work, so do your worst..."

The sad look on Panther's face became one of pure sorrow as he put his sunglasses back on and helped Wily to his feet. Looking into the glasses, he could see only a reflection of himself...but with a vain "W" painted over the bruise...

---

The tint faded from the glass, becoming plain once more, dirt and cracks marking the window... but the reflection remained. Turbo Lover stared at his reflection, at "Wily".

"You see, Albert... That has always been the flaw in their reasoning. If the man with the most reason to kill this universe's Wily hasn't, what hope do these people have?" he taunted, a victorious look on his face.
"As long as there's one person in the City that knows something is wrong here, there's hope" Turbo Lover replied, struggling to speak. "Wily" was trying to control him, to control his body. He felt shocks go through his body, the pain in his head growing in intensity with every passing second. He struggled onwards. "The Protomen will stand against you, Wily. We'll bring this universe's Wily crashing down, make him fall from the tower he so proudly stands on!"

A laugh echoed inside his mind, the reflection shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. "Why haven't you then? Why haven't you all just marched to his tower, smashed through his robots and destroyed him? Oh, if only the people would rally beside them, but...there's something wrong here, like this whole City wants to scream, but no-one makes a sound, right?" it asked, shocking him. By using those lyrics, it was trying to make the Protomen, to make Panther, seem like hypocrites. "Someone just thinking something is wrong isn't enough, Albert. Humanity has lost the will to fight, curbed away by brilliant psychological and physical manipulation of the masses. History has always named the proletariat "Those without a voice", not because they cannot shout, but because they refuse to. You need to understand that. In fact, you already do..."

The reflection left the window, stepping forward. A ghostly Wily stood in front of Turbo Lover, its expression unchanging as it lifted a single hand, pointing a single finger at his face.

"After all, even you asked yourself "Was everything we've done pointless, if mankind wouldn't stand for themsel-"
"Shut up."

Turbo Lover clenched his fists, his fedora casting a shadow over his closed eyes. It was clear that he was angry, something Wily reveled in.
"Oh? Losing your temper? I'm only telling the truth-"
"SHUT UP!"

Quicker than lightning, Turbo Lover threw a punch at Wily, going through it's face and smashing the window into millions of shards. His hand was instantly covered in scratches, but he ignored the pain. The sound of cheap glass falling on concrete, some shards shattering further, was all that could be heard. He opened his eyes.

Wily was gone.

Sighing with relief, he collapsed against the cracked wall, unclenching his hands and watching the blood trickle downwards. Someone was going to notice this, ask what he had done. It would be suspicious, but worth it to shut Wily up. Besides, he could still perform, one of his hands was fine to hold a mic...

"...Crap!"

Jumping to his feet, he ran back down the corridors, returning to the band. He still had work to do, important work, and nothing would stop him from doing his duty. As he ran, a song came to mind, not one of theirs, but one that they had found on an old tape, one that seemed to touch home with every member of the band. Turbo Lover knew the lyrics by heart, and right now, the chorus seemed fitting...

Can you hear me?
Can you hear me running?
Can you hear me running, can you hear me calling you?

---