Orchestrated By C.M. Rich (Magnetman)
Cyros
"Uh... heh heh... Doctor Light?"
The old scientist perked his head up at the sound of Auto's voice.
He walked toward the green robot and immediately saw what worried him;
a tall blue robot was at the entrance to their sanctuary, his design
showing him as a definite master class robot.
This didn’t deter the doctor one bit. Standing next to Auto,
he looked up toward the new arrival and spoke clearly. “Welcome,
my friend.”
“...hi.”
His attitude was nearly neutral... yet there was a tiny hint of annoyance
laced in his voice. Ignoring that fact, Light continued to speak. “Have
you come seeking refuge from the war?”
The robot master responded with a simple nod. He then made his way
further into the hideaway, pushing Auto out of the way. Auto cried
out in protest, yet no apology was given.
“I need a place to sit.”
“There’s some space in the main hall,” informed Light, “but
I can arrange-”
“That’ll do.”
Walking away from the duo, the blue robot made his way deeper into
the sanctuary. He was far from plain looking; various parts of his
armor were fitted with neon lights of three varying colors. A good
part of his helmet was fitted with a neon green glass, below which
sat his large eyes, which held neon green irises. Just by looking at
his design and his stride told how he was a definite war robot.
Then what was he doing here?
“Excuse me!” The robot looked briefly over his shoulder
to see Light coming after him. The scientist caught up as the robot
looked forward once more, never breaking his stride. “Not to
seem like a pest, but I’d like to know your name, since you’ll
be staying with us and all.”
“...it’s Neonman.”
Light smiled warmly. “My, what an interesting name.”
“...it’s not THAT interesting.” His attitude was
prominent that time, so Light decided to ease off.
The two soon reached the main gathering hall of the sanctuary. Several
dozen robots, from all walks of life, were present, doing various activities
or telling various stories. Roll was around, helping some of the less
fortunate robots become comfortable in their new surroundings. Neonman
spotted an empty spot in the far corner and made his way toward it.
Settling down, the decorative robot master looked at the approaching
form of Doctor Light. “Okay old man, he’s the thing; I’m
gonna sleep until this whole war business is over with. ONLY wake me
up if there’s an emergency, got it?”
Puzzled, Light asked why. “Because I WANT to, okay?”
The doctor waited a moment longer, much to Neonman’s displeasure.
Still, Light was worried about the newcomer. After all, even robots
needed to recharge, as while stasis used less power than active functioning,
it still drained energy to keep vitals circuits running.
Despite the venomous glare from the robot master, Light continued to
pry.
“Surely you’d need to wake up occasionally to replenish
your-”
“Don’t need to.”
“Huh?”
“Night.”
With that single word, Neonman slipped into sleep mode, his eye lids
snapping shut and his colored lights dimming off. Light simply shook
his head and walked away, unsure of what to think of the unusual robot.
That was replaced by the relief that there were still robots out there
that valued both freedom AND peace.
--------------------
In
his dream state, Neonman pondered.
Why did I even come here? he though. What possessed me to
hang out with a bunch of pacifists and weaklings?
The answer came to him in a near instant.
Survival.
Neonman was perfectly fitted for the upcoming war, for any side. The
Scissor Army fitted him well enough to fuel his passion for destruction,
but their ideals did not match his own. He personally didn’t
see the point in killing humans; they were usually smart enough not
to bother him.
His powers and abilities would have benefited the RPD immensely. But
he valued his free thought. He valued it as much as his existence and
he wasn’t going to let some inferior being have control of his
fate. Not again.
For Cossack, he would have been a great warrior as well. But they were
too goody-goody. Plus they lacked the proper resources to help him
should he, as unlikely as he found it, receive serious injuries during
battle. Sucks to be them, he thought.
Then there was Wily. Completely out of the question. In other circumstances,
joining Wily would have been the best decision he ever made; aside
from allowing his holographic duplicate, Alien Wily, to upgrade his
systems to tap into his untold energy reserves. But there was one reason
why he would rather annihilate Wily’s faction than to join it
in open arms.
Cyros...
There was a time, long ago, when he thought highly of him. Never again.
The robot master once looked up to him, sought him for support... but
in his time of greatest needed, he did nothing. Like a common criminal,
Neonman was sealed away when he had done nothing wrong.
And spending several years in a very hostile environment did little
to quell that sense of betrayal.
Only a random act of fate (or perhaps it was luck) allowed him back
into a stable reality. And if it wasn’t delicious enough, the
object of his hatred lived in the same place. It was perfect...
But now... now was not the time to enact vengeance. Not the time to
quench his bloodlust by destroying whatever Cyros held dear. It was
a time to wait, to plan. Only in a peaceful place could he do so.
Over the protests of the little green alien the harbored him, Neonman
left his flimsy hideout and went to search. Many clues were needed
to find what he sought, but he eventually found his way to the secluded
location of Light’s robot sanctuary. Now he could finally, for
the first time in years, relax without the need to constantly look
over his shoulder.
Instead, he pondered... and waited. The war to come would be bloody
indeed, but even so, wars don’t last forever. Whoever was victorious,
it didn’t matter. The war would end, leaving behind a broken
world, weary of fighting. And Neonman would be nice and rested by then.
Ready to take out anyone stupid enough to try and cross him.
Before he slipped into a deeper stasis, one final welcoming thought
came to his mind. How would this war affect Cyros? The person who stood
by helplessly as his neighbors were slaughtered by the very thing he
created? Who stood by helpless has his peers punished him and his creations,
not fighting back, taking every blame and accusation aimed at him?
The optimistic little boy that only wished to have fun?
Neonman imagined... and silently, he laughed.
--------------------
Nytris Oxide
April 20XX
Tonight, something was different in that club. Sure, the dance floor
was aglow in the typical mix of strobe lights and colored lasers and
various other odd patterns that would never be seen in day-to-day activities.
Everything outside of that brightly-lit halo was more subdued, with
the lamps at just the right way; enough so people could see things
in the area around them, yet still allowing darkness to creep into
thecorners. Heat filled the room, radiating from the madly-moving dancers
seeking to drown themselves in the loudly thumping bass and quick tempos
of the music. Everything was quite typical for a club outside of a
major city--the only difference tonight was the presence of a visitor,
a person who was foreign to this environment. Of course, I was already
off in a nice dark corner, a good distance so that no one could give
me one of those strange looks that new people seem to get.
My head was tilted back at a nice angle, and my body in a nice relaxed
position. Though I was as far away from the dancing as possible, the
music was pulsing through me all the same. While I let the deep beats
pass into my head, the man next to me was keeping himself upright,
less interested in the music than the movements of those around him.
He turned briefly to me, looking to see what I was doing, then turning
back to the crowd in front of him. After a couple of more minutes of
surveying, he turned himself to face me, a stern look on his face.
"Two hours," he said, glancing at the clock above the bar
quickly,
"two hours and you still haven't done a thing."
I took a deep breath and lifted myself out of my comfortable pose. "Not
everything has to be about activity,
Tempest. Even doing nothing is doing something; even now, I'm doing
something by listening to the music." All of this came out with
a slightly sleepy monotone, indicating that I was still shaking off
the effects of the dancing music.
"You know I'm not the type you ask to just listen to music, Nytris.
I'm a fighter through and through, not some teen who thinks just moving
around in one spot for ten minutes is dancing."
I shook myself awake, and stretched while replying, "People's
definition of dancing varies, I'm afraid. What we both think constitues
dancing is obviously not the same thing as these people. But, I'm just
here for the music. Nothing like a good techno beat to sweep you away!"
Tempest sighed and just returned to his observation of the crowd. He
was obviously not very happy about my tastes in music, and would rather
have been in some other place right about now. I couldn't blame him;
we were easily thousands of miles from our connections in Monsteropolis,
sitting in some club in New
York City that
I had only read about less than a week ago. It wasn't familiar territory,
and I could sympathize a little with his feelings of uneasiness in
an unfamiliar place. I turned to him and placed my hand on his shoulder.
"Look, I get what's going through your head right now man. I
haven't been here in a while either, but I just wanted to see if
this was really worth all the hype."
"I'm fine with that, Nytris," he retorted, with his piercing
gaze still on the club, "but I don't see why you called me out
for something so...trivial."
"It's because I wanted someone to come along so I wouldn't be
so lonely. I know you the best out of my Personas, and I thought
you'd might like to get out for something other than combat. Are
you at least happy with being able to relax?"
Tempest thought for a moment, still looking out to the people. "I
suppose it is nice to be out and about without needing to draw my
blade. You considering my feelings in summoning me is certainly a
nice gesture that not too many Personas are fortunate enough to see
in their service. I guess I should thank you."
"No no no, not a problem at all my friend. You deserve it. Although,
I'd say I've had enough music for tonight. I want to actually go
to sleep instead of only being halfway there."
Tempest nodded in agreement, and we both quietly got up and passed
out the back door. As soon as the door opened, the rush of cold air
caused me to shiver briefly. Tempest stood unfazed, taking in the
fresh air after being indoors in the heavy club air for such a long
time. Holding out my hand, my cloak appeared, and I wrapped it around
myself quickly to get warm.
"So, want to Return now Tempest? We could always wait until
we get back to the shelter."
"No, here is good; I need to rest my eyes as it is. Sleep well,
Nytris."
With those words, Tempest became transparent, and eventually faded
completely. He wasn't gone, but he had gone back to his place in
a gem on my necklace, unable to be called again for a good twenty-four
hours.
I loosened myself up, then produced a piece of chalk in my hand.
One simple teleport spell was all that I needed to get back to Monsteropolis,
so I drew up the necessary symbols on the wall next to me, along
with my own personal seal to indicate my home. After forcing enough
energy through my fingertips, the spell was activated, and I vanished
into the night.
--------------------
If
it was not obvious from the preceding narrative, I am not just some
normal average joe who works a nine-to-five job or goes to college
in hopes of becoming a voice to the people. I am a practitioner of
the magical arts, officially designated as a "Mage".
I, and others like me, are not to be confused with those "magicians"
that perform for pedestrians or at children's birthday parties. In
fact, some Magi even take the term with great disdain, comparing
it to a racial slur. Those guys use deception and elaborate devices
to perform for audiences who dare not question their secrets. We
Magi are more like the wizards you might see in a fantasy novel,
with so many different fields falling under the term
"Magi" that you'd be hard pressed to find something we
haven't done.
Naturally, today's age of technology and robots has pushed us out
of the limelight; to tell the truth, it is better that the common
man doesn't see us. Besides the obvious reason of being constantly
pestered by the world governments to help solve messes they got themselves
into, we also want to avoid disrupting the balance that exists. We
have access to some things that government leaders and business executives
could only dream of; putting that type of power in the hands of those
who cannot control it will undoubtedly lead to chaos on both a global
level and within the natural progression of the universe.
Now, I actually kind of like technology--it's actually quite awesome
to see how human ingenuity can duplicate the effects of the natural
world, and how it can be used to improve the common welfare of the
world. There are cases where it is used for less-than-noble causes,
but that is based more upon humanity's own flaws than the technology
itself. Most of my peers don't trust technology as far as they can
throw it, and it certainly doesn't help that most of the anti-technology
Magi out there champion saving the environment. When your chosen
path dictates finding harmony with nature and learning to draw out
the world's natural energies, it comes as no surprise when people
who know of us label us as "hippies". It comes with the
territory I suppose.
When I first heard about Monsteropolis about five years ago or so,
the lure of seeing such technology up close was powerful. Being a
wanderer by nature, setting out on such a long journey proved to
be quite hard. For one thing, I was still testing the water with
my powers, and I couldn't go more than a few miles without getting
tired. I also had to pretty much do it by myself, since going to
the city was the last thing on a Magi's mind.
Arriving there, I finally saw the gadgets and robots I had heard
so much about. But what really struck me were the robots that protected
the city. They had once tried to take the world over under the guidance
of a man called Dr. Wily, but they were stopped by a young robot
named Rockman, whom voluntarily let himself become a fighter. Just
seeing how these robots were able to decide between good and evil,
to save lives or destroy them, was enough to make me become an even
bigger fan of technology than I already was.
At heart, however, I was and always will be a Mage. The clean edges
and conveinence of the city doesn't compare to a simple breeze, or
the rush of a river. That's why I stay outside the city, choosing
to shun more modern housing for shelters raised by hand, the way
I had benn accustomed to doing it.
In all of my time living here near this large city, where much can
happen and these heroes fight a constant battle to make things safe
for everyone, I had been a relatively silent. I had never fought
a battle with a supervillain, and had only occasionally stepped in
to stop a crime. While I was near the city, I still felt somehow
disconnected, as if this place would never be a fit for a Mage such
as myself. The whole time, I had just watched the world unfold in
front of me as if it were a story, never stepping in to intervene.
Somehow, I thought that I might have to step
in and create my own role one of these days, and no longer just sit
idly by...
--------------------