The Megaman War:
Part 1 - Whistle in the Wind

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

Chapter 0: Secretive Meetings

The various heads of state and military masterminds of the United States Armed Forces sat down at the long table in the maximum security room. Whereas one might expect loads of top secret documents at a meeting like this, there was instead a rather nice, varied, and delicious looking brunch bar. The Secretary of Defense helped himself to a ladle full of maple syrup to smother his french toast in.

“I swear,” he was telling the United Nations representative, “It’s like you can’t BE a super power these days without at least two or three of these ‘Secret Meetings’ a week!”

The U.N. Rep nodded, still chewing his bagel with cream cheese. Unlike many of the other, larger and more abrasive men and women at the table, he was really the only one in the room who took the time to enjoy his food. It wasn’t like things got done in the U.N. as fast as they got done in the White House or under the Mountain. They lived way too fast around here for him.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the only military head in the room that had only one person he answered to, the President, was paying careful attention to his ham cheese omelette, being very careful not to look the White House Chief of Staff in the eye.

It didn’t work very well. “So, Lenny, tell me...” the Chief of Staff began carefully, his voice cutting through the general din at the table like a rather cruel knife, “how exactly does one LOSE an ENTIRE commando team?”

The four star general, whose name was Leonard Travitz, HATED being called Lenny. It was always what the Chief of Staff or the President called him whenever they really wanted to point out one of his mistake or failures.

“Technically,” Leonard began weakly, “It’s not lost... not your actual lost... more... misplaced.”

“Yeh,” cut in the CIA director, her accent spilling over her every word like molasses. “By about half de planet.”

The Chief of Staff sighed and leaned back in his chair, swallowing his latest bite before continuing. “I guess my real question is how in the world do you intend to put a Commando team in the middle east and end up in Siberia. SIBERIA. It isn’t like the two are next door neighbors! As it is, the President had enough on his plate with the decline in the job rate and the drop in the stock market, to say nothing of the rapidly diminishing fate of the American people, and now I have to go to him with a misplaced Commando team and a large group of angry Siberians who think the USA is trying to kill them in their sleep.”

The only misplaced person in the room, a stout scientist with two briefcases and an armload of folders and dossiers, felt it his duty to speak at this point. “Well, begging your pardon, sir, but it isn’t like Teleportation is an exact science. The whole idea is still in its infancy.”

The Chief of Staff leveled a hard, weather-worn gaze at the scientist. “I understand that it only started WORKING recently, but between the years of 1995 and 2009, over 5000 studies were conducted on the possibility and feasibility of the subject. One might think that it would have been able to bypass infancy entirely, and at least move on to temperamental toddler-hood.”

A fork clattered to a plate as the Secretary of Defense finished his french toast. “Can we get on with the meeting? I’ve got three appointments on the Hill in an hour and the media’s going to ask questions if I’m more than an hour late.”

Leonard Travitz almost leapt at the opportunity to change the subject. “Yes, let’s get on with it.”

With a slow, almost inescapable force, every eye focused on the scientist.

Who coughed.

After an uncomfortable silence, the Chief of Staff said “Well?”

At this point, the scientist seemed to remember himself. “Ah, yes, well, er, good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Dr. Thomas Xavier Light, acting head of the project you’ve code named ‘Prometheus.’ Now, I have some basic handouts for...”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the U.N. Rep broke in, “ACTING head? What happened to the head of the project?”

Thomas Light sighed. “You took him into custody and summarily executed him for leaking information about Prometheus to the Media.”

A few of the men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. That had not, as one might imagine, been a moment their mothers would have been proud of.

“Returning to the subject and cutting to the chase, Dr. Light?” the Chief of Staff prompted the scientist.

“Er, right...” Dr. Light coughed again, his three day stubble making him feel uncomfortable every time his hand ran over his chin, which he did out of nervous habit. “Simply put, I have good news, bad news, and some in-between news, gentlemen.”

“Continue.”

“Well, the good news is that the Armor Integration Circuit, shortened to AIC, works. We’ve experience a 94% successful integration and all the expected increases in individual performance. In short, the system works better than I could have hoped for. When under the influence of this system, the Human body becomes more resilient, faster, stronger, and incredible destructive when equipped properly.”

“Looks like our funding wasn’t wasted then...” the Secretary of State smirks and sat back.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs wasn’t so easily distracted. “What’s the bad news?”

Dr. Light’s face took on a nervous look. “Well, to understand how bad the bad news really is, you have to know the in-between news first...”

“Then get on with it, man!” the Chief of Staff barked in a harsh tone that indicated his military background. “We’re not paying you to stand around and look stupid!”

Thomas’s face remained pleasantly nervous, but his mind with the IQ of 256 added the Chief of Staff to the official list that he didn’t like very much. “Well, there’s really two parts to the in-between news. First of all, while successful, we haven’t really come up with a way to power the system indefinitely. The best we’ve come up with so far is a compact, rechargeable lithium battery, but even then it’s only good for two hours before needing to recharge, and that’s if none of the weapons are integrated into the system itself. The second bit of in-between news is that, so far, the system has only worked on one of our willing test subjects, and it appears to need to be fine tuned to work with another person’s biology. Basically, the system has to be custom made for each and every user.”

“That cuts out mass production,” The Secretary of Defense sighed heavily.

“Not quite,” Thomas Light assured him quickly. “Many of the parts are very general while only the more vital control components require fine tuning. With enough time,” and enough funding, “we could easily produce two to three hundred units a month. Of course, given the nature of the system, I doubt many more than fifty would be necessary in any given infantry conflict...”

“Tactical use is not for you to decide,” the Chief of Staff cut him off. “You are simply making the bullets. WE shall pull the trigger.” Leonard shot the Chief of Staff a killing look, but the other man ignored it, knowing that he could very well go over the Joint Chiefs’ heads with his influence on the President.

Dr. Light, however, understood the analogy all too well. “Well, then, I guess all that’s left is the bad news...”

“Indeed.”

“Our only successful test subject has... er... disappeared. Er, It seems that the Teleportation test went some manner of horribly wrong-“ The Chief of Staff gave the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs a wicked glance. “-and I believe he ended up somewhere In South Africa.”

“Can you get him back?” croaked a dejected voice from somewhere around the table. To anyone who didn’t know him, they never could have guessed the voice belonged to Leonard Travitz.

The scientist shook his head. “The Teleportation Web doesn’t stretch that far yet. NASA has been putting relay and emitter units in space for almost a year now, but we’ve only managed to cover the broadest areas of America, Mexico, Canada, and Japan. That’s also the reason I suspect a fleet of retrieval vehicles are currently heading for Siberia.”

There was a general chuckle, but the Chief of Staff leaned forward. “How long before you can have another test subject?”

Dr. Light shifted uneasily. He wasn’t at all comfortable with this... “It isn’t as easy as all that... we need someone who’s in good health, someone without a history of psychosis, someone who could benefit from the process and undoubtedly large sum of money they’ll receive as recompense for volunteering their body to science... It isn’t something you can go out with a clipboard and get a hundred or so volunteers...”

The CIA Director leaned in at this point. “Do yeh haf a file on de previo tet subjet?”

Dr. Light nodded slightly, failing to see what this had to do with anything. The CIA Director nodded at the Chief of Staff, who smiled warmly. “We’ll get you a willing test subject, Dr. Light. Right now, please return to the Mountain. We have a few Marines and a helicopter that will escort you. Your test subject will be there when you return.”

“Well... uh... thank you... sir...” Dr. Light smiled nervously and rubbed his chin, cursing his stubble, as a pair of uniformed Marines escorted him from the room.

After the scientist was long gone and the brunch had been finished, the Secretary of Defense gave the Chief of Staff a look. “He’s a nice man, that Dr. Light. A little... scattered, but fairly nice. I don’t think we’ll have to kill him. He seems pretty smart.”

The Chief of Staff folded his hands. “Let’s just hope he isn’t to smart. He may do something stupid. If he tries to pull a stunt like Dr. Caine did, the Media is going to start asking some very serious questions, because Dr. Light won’t get caught half as easily...”

“It isn’t like we’re without a backup plan,” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said, shrugging. “What about the other project?”

“‘Sticks and Stones’?” The U.N. Rep put in, trying to make sure he was on the same page as everyone else. “Who’s the head of that one?”

The CIA Director shook her head. “Totally insane. He got all da dagrees, mannaisms, an’ manias of de true mad sciuntist. Total loon.”

“But what’s his name?” The U.N. Rep asked, pressing the point. He didn’t want to look like a moron.

The CIA Director pulled a file almost literally out of nowhere. Her ability to do that made every other suit in the room nervous, because you could never know when she was going to assault you with facts in her odd accent. “Doctor Albert Ezekial Wily.” She looked through a few of the pages. “He look like da daft German, Eienstein...”

There was a rather heavy silence.

“Sounds like a decent enough guy,” the Secretary of Defense shrugged.