The Megaman War:
Part 2 – Decisions, Destruction, Duty, and Destiny

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

Chapter 23: The Siege

Major Keldon’s replacement on the front lines of the unit leading the strike on Skull Fortress, whose name was Oleander Lance, could only wipe his brow in the bowels of his tank. The first wave was heavy artillery. Tons of it. Hopefully, the heavy armor could either destroy or distract the inhuman monsters guarding the entrance so that the more maneuverable infantry units could get into the Fortress itself.

Once inside, the Infantry was not to hunt down Wily, who would undoubtedly be well protected. Instead, they were fully prepared to use massive amounts of C4 to collapse portions of the Fortress on top of Wily, once they determined what level he was on.

Lance tensed as the first obstacle to their advance came into view. It looked… Egyptian? This must be the Tutankhamen unit they’d been briefed about. Rumor was going around one just like it was seen in Saudi Arabia.

Pharaohman looked impassively at the incoming tanks. There were a lot of them, true, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He wasn’t overconfident by any stretch of the word, he simply knew what he could do, and forty heavy tanks were well within his capabilities.

Raising one arm, with a single finger pointing to the clear blue sky above him, Pharaohman began the silent process of gathering solar energy. With over 30 solar receptors located on his body, he was always gathering this energy, but he felt the need to be theatrical about it this time.

The tanks rumbled closer, moving quickly across the rough terrain. The pyramid-inspired Master would have smiled if his face could have been seen behind the burial mask that covered it. Instead, he simply swept his upraised arm down and across his body.

A wave of pure solar energy was release, superheating the air just inches from his fingertips, and letting it fly in an expanding wave of destruction. The wave went THROUGH four tanks before dissipating, and the rolling armor seemed unfazed by the attack.

And then they started to fall apart. Momentum kept the upper halves of the tanks going for a little bit, but soon enough they started to slide backwards, melted through at an almost imperceptible level.

Oleander Lance had barely enough time to realize what had happened. The wave hadn’t harmed him or any of the crews, but they had noticed it and had instantly broken out in a sweat when it passed. His head went down as the top half of the tank slid backwards with increasing speed. A crunching sound and a dying scream told him that his gun-operating partner had not been so quick. He swore and killed the speed of the tank as the top half hit the ground behind them. Bringing his head up when he figured it was safe, he played lone witness to the total destruction that followed…

Pharaohman stood there like a one man army, which he was, throwing concentrated solar power into the diminishing crowd of tanks. Occasionally, he’d hit a fuel tank with his waves of heated destruction, and the explosion that followed would flip the tank up and over on end. Other tankers, like him, that found a way to escape their own wrecks were treated to a concentrated beam of solar energy that seared the flash and boiled the blood. They died the most horribly. And through it all, the living museum exhibit said nothing.

Oleander Lance hid back in the ruins of his once-mighty war vehicle as his mind reeled from the horror he’d just seen.

The news helicopter that was playing witness to the renewed attack on the Skull Fortress could do nothing as they looks on in horror. They could feel the heat from the explosions from here, and the screams were all too clear. The lady with the microphone was, for possibly the first time in her career, at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Shadowman was clinging to the top of an express train bound for New Detroit. He had his new orders. He didn’t like them, but he had them. For some reason, his mind kept re focusing on the horrified face of Harold, with the neat, sword-shaped slot into his skull right above his eyes.

“So,” the ninja wondered aloud over the roar of the wind and his right eye narrowed, “How long will it be until MY usefulness to the Dark Lords has come to an end, and they send one of their home-grown guard dogs to deal with me…?”

The ninja shook his head. Betrayal was not an option at this point. How could it be? He had seen first-hand what happened to anyone who outlived their usefulness. The punishment for betrayal was probably worse.

But then again, how could they punish someone they couldn’t find?

A plan began to form in Shadowman’s mind. He smiled to himself. Maybe this would be his last job, or maybe he’d live for another happy few years before the world ended. Either way, he was going to go out in style…

Oh yes. This was going to be FUN.

Rock saw Theresa cutting her way through the crowd, and stood up from the bench they’d agreed to meet at. “What took you so long?” Rock asked.

Theresa smiled apologetically. “I ran into some old friends.” Gary and Ben came through the crowd behind her. “Rock, meet Ben and Gary. Er… Gary’s deaf and Ben’s blind.”

“Of course,” Ben sighed. “Our ONLY points of interest.”

Rock smiled and extended a hand. “Nice to meet both of you.” Gary took it and shook enthusiastically.

“A pleasure as well!” he smiled.

Theresa smiled and looked at Rock. “So, where’re we going?”

Rock shrugged. He’d figured on grabbing some lunch or something, because he knew he hadn’t eaten too much lately with all of the other things in his life going on. Then he noticed something.

“Hey!” he cried, noticing the T-shirt Theresa had on under her denim jacket. “That’s that one shirt I was looking at!”

She smiled and looked at it. “Yeah, it’s Megaman’s symbol… I think it looks good on me, don’t you?”

“Hangs well,” Gary put in, smiling. The other two looked at him. “What?”

Ben sighed. “Can we get something to eat or something and stop relying on visual gags? You KNOW I hate being left out…”

“Sorry,” Rock laughed. “Yeah, let’s get some food…”

Roll wandered into the garage, looking for Rock. When she saw Protoman, she made an honest mistake.

“What’s with the color change, Dr. Light?” She asked as she walked up to the pair of them.

“What?”

“The red armor instead of blue,” she said again, leaning on who she thought was Rock.

Protoman coughed politely. “I think she has me mistaken for someone else.”

Dr. Light smiled. “That is NOT, in fact, Rock, Roll. That is Protoman.”

Roll’s mind registered this, but her body made no effort to stop what she was doing. “Nice to meet you,” she managed.

“Er, likewise?” Protoman returned.

Delta Squadron was making its way to the entrance of the Fortress. The lack of resistance they’d encountered so far was promising. Maybe the armored division had done its job…

An inhumanly fast red blur went straight through the cautious Delta Squadron, and five men went down before anyone realized they were under attack. A second, yellow blur came down from above, landing in the middle of the disoriented soldiers. With an ominous sound of metal on metal, Topman’s wrists grew long, wickedly curved blades, and with out a single of his trademark crazy sentences, he spun in a circle, killing four more men before the first shot could be conceivably fired.

Quickman made another dash through, expertly placed blows crushing wind pipes through velocity alone. The whirling dervish Topman had become drew most of the attention, however, and a few machine gun rounds rebounded harmlessly off of his armor. With one more pass by Quickman, the entire squadron was dead.

Topman’s spin came to a halt. “Bad not.”

“Some of your finer work, I have to admit,” Quickman shrugged.

The two Masters high-fived each other and sped off to find another squadron to thwart.

“So, I have to wonder,” Ben said, cutting into the conversation they were having around various choices of ice cream, “WHY do you try to hide the fact you’re Megaman, Rock?”

The brown-haired boy nearly choked on his mouthful of ice cream, the resulting cold headache making his eyes water. Theresa laughed. “Guess THAT’s one cat out of the bag.”

“How’d you know?” Rock managed over his coughing as he tried to regain his composure.

“Easy,” Ben shrugged. “He SOUND just like Megaman, from the short sentences you’ve said on TV. You have a definite smell of machine grease and ozone about you, not to mention the lingering smell of blood, and you’re positively obsessed with knowing what people think about him.”

Rock laughed a little bit. “Heh… I guess but… how’d YOU know, Theresa?”

She shrugged, her brown long hair falling off her shoulders. “I’ve known since I saw you. You’re kind of marked.”

Rock’s hand went to his forehead, and the grey circle he’d gotten so used to in the mirror. “Yeah, but you’d have to be familiar with the system to know to look for it…”

And then Rock noticed, for the first time, the faint gray lines that spider webbed across Theresa’s face just like they did his. He took in her face for a full ten seconds, realization dawning on his features. In a low, threatening voice, he growled, “You’re one of Wily’s Masters, aren’t you?”

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, but she said nothing. Her icy gaze held Rock and his own heated stare held her. They didn’t look away for a while. Gary finally looked up from his ice cream and saw them. He turned to Ben.

“What’s with those two?”

Ben smiled a little, and turned back to look at his brother, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Gary’s eyes widened.

“HOLY CRAP!” he exclaimed for everyone in the ice cream parlor to hear, and pointed clumsily at Rock, “YOU’RE MEGAMAN?”

Theresa immediately broke down laughing, and Rock’s forehead hit the table at roughly the same time. Even Ben couldn’t help but crack a smile as his brother gaped, and the rest of the patrons stared.

Plantma’am’s body had been modified differently than the other Masters. Instead of a robotic-like System, she had been bonded with a parasitic plant that fed off energy, a discovery Wily had chanced upon back in his earlier days of exploring the Mountain. The installation of an Energy Collection Coil had insured the plant, though bonded to her body, would not kill her, and she could still exert a mental control over it. Her body, arms, and legs seemed to be wrapped in a kind of thorny vine, which could bend and move at her whim, lashing out with diamond-hard spikes at up to forty feet away. The martial arts training she had undergone through hypnosis had produced the longest reached form of judo in existence.

But all of this was secondary to her. Her thoughts focused on the task at hand. Punk stood between her and the door to her former Master. She’d made up her mind. Wily was going to pay for the crimes he’d committed. Not for his attempt at taking over the world, but for destroying the blooming relationship she’d had with Reggae.

Like her garden, their friendship had grown, and they had truly understood each other. Islands of serenity in a sea of ever encroaching madness. They had cared for each other so much, that it hurt Plantma’am to even think about the mindless enforcer Wily had turned her friend… no, BOYfriend into.

But now, that former friend, that would be lover, stood between her and the revenge she deserved for what had been done to him. Irony personified in red armor plating and wicked spikes.

Tears streamed involuntarily down her face as the plant that had bonded with her on a psychological and physical level began to twitch in the anticipation of combat.