Intermission: Inquiry Regarding Your History

The following transcript is of an interview between a reporter for the Neo Arcadian Historical Society and a controversial figure from the Wily Wars era, SWN-001 “Bass”. The relevant footage has not been cleared for release in Historical Society presentations or exhibits at this time.

Start of chest camera footage. The interior of a dusty corrugated steel shack. A small gap between the wall and ceiling allows a platinum ray of sunlight in. A Wily “W” emblem is spray painted on the wall. Strewn about the room are E-tanks, some empty and some full. In the corner is a small stack of refined Energen Crystal holders and a crate with a stenciled hyacinth emblem. In the middle of the room is a workbench. Sitting at it is Bass. He is a humanoid Robot Master with the appearance of an approximate young adult human. His armor is black with orange accents. His helmet is adorned with two fins that swoop back. His face is marked with makeup, consisting of: black lipstick, black eyeliner, purple eyeshadow on the upper lids, and two stripes of purple face paint tracing down from his eyes in long tear tracks. His armor has several scorch marks from years of battle, and a few plates are in slightly different shades of black. This man has been at war for a long time. As he sits at the workbench, he uses various tools to poke around at the exposed internals of his buster. He wears a permanent scowl and avoids eye contact with the camera or the cameraman.

BASS: Alright, meatbag, get yer questions over with. You caught me on a good day.

REPORTER: Right. So, uh, as these Elf Wars, as many are calling them, are at long last winding down, we wanted to get the perspective of someone who’s fought in similarly global con-

BASS: Get to the point, dickhead.

REPORTER: R-right well- So, we wanted to know, as someone who has previously both worked with Maverick groups, and with the former UN’s for-

BASS: Maverick? The fuck’s a Maverick? I don’t recognize that word. It’s just some shit they made up to lump anyone with real ideas in with the scum that’re easier to hate. Just typical meatbag bullshit, same as it’s always been. You wanna ask about the Wars, ask about the Wars. You wanna ask about lowlifes getting high on bad Elves and rolling over cities because they can’t handle the shit, ask about them.

REPORTER: Well, uh- it all interests me, I suppose, but start by telling me what you think of the Ma- er, the current… Elf user crisis?

BASS: Not much to say about ‘em. It’s a cheap shortcut to power. If you need that kind of shit to get by, you’re always gonna be weak. Oh, sure, it makes it super easy to bust into a city if your band has enough guys. Shit makes you reckless. But there’s no finesse. No care. And it don’t make you invincible. Real power? It’s more than shootin’ a big bolt of energy. It’s more than lookin’ scary. ‘Course, they help. But you gotta have skill. You gotta have ambition. You gotta have ideals. These fuckers don’t believe in much.

REPORTER: So you think Elf technology is outright useless.

BASS: Naw. Life’s full of helpful little guys, and Elves are probably the littlest and the most helpful. Treat ‘em right, and they can get you out of some shit. They can keep an eye out, they can scan for shit… they can keep you running if you take a real bad hit. Back in the good ol’ days, if you got got bad enough, you were out. You’d shut down and you’d be lucky if ya got hauled back to Dad with enough pieces to get you back in motion quickly. Had a few brothers that had to wait for… shit, years in the worst cases. That’s one thing I don’t miss about back then. But the thing is, no matter how good the Elf is, it don’t make you invincible. I mean, shit, I’ve seen fuckers use Elves that literally made them invincible. Didn’t matter worth a shit. Just had to bide my time until they ran outta Elf Juice or whatever the fuck. This one time? Trio of fuckers tried to come up on my turf. Think they wanted to pick my supplies. They were fused. Clearly bumping double digit Elves, you could see the poor fuckers orbiting ‘em. Would make you shit your pants, I bet. All those mods and enhancements didn’t matter when I shot a single burst that hit each one of them in the fuckin’ face.

BASS: [grins at camera, pantomimes his head exploding, makes squishing sounds with his mouth]

REPORTER: I… see.

REPORTER: [pause] I’m particularly curious about your former associate, Mega Man, and his role in the wars.

BASS: [freezes, stares at reporter]

REPORTER: I- sorry, did I say something wr-

BASS: [hissing through clenched teeth] Rock.

REPORTER: Come again?

BASS: His name was fuckin’ Rock.

REPORTER: I-

BASS: Don’t you dare call him that. Fuck. That name was a fuckin’ chain around his neck.

REPORTER: I’m sorry, I didn’t-

BASS: Fuck you.

REPORTER: Look, I-

BASS: You wanna know about Rock? I’ll tell you about fuckin’ Rock. He was the best man I ever met. Better than me. Sure as shit better than you. A better fighter. A kinder man. He was so fuckin’ strong, but so… fuckin… merciful. He took it easy on my brothers. He took it easy on Dad. Do you wanna know why it sucked fightin’ him?

REPORTER: [says nothing]

BASS: Well, do ya?!

REPORTER: Okay.

BASS: Because it was exhilaratin’. Fightin’ him was a rush nobody else could make me feel. I was built to beat him, yet he always handled me with grace like you couldn’t even imagine. And it hurt. ‘Cause I knew, if he would just join us, we coulda’ made the world right. ‘Cause it always felt good in the moment, but he always looked so… sad, every time he’d stand over me, and he’d either tell me to go home, or he’d pick me up and bring me to his home so his dad could keep me runnin’ long enough to make it back under my own steam.

BASS: [grimaces, puts down tools, pinches bridge of nose with eyes shut]

REPORTER: Didn’t you work with him near the end of the Wars, and in the Invasions?

BASS: Yeah. Dad could be a real prick sometimes. And fightin’ alongside him felt even better. We were bad-ass. God, I just- I wish he could ever have put the gun down and taken the armor off. He’d been fightin’ his whole goddamn life. I mean- he thought he was doing what was right. But it fucks ya up, pickin’ up a gun as a kid and never gettin’ to stop. I shoulda never let him go on that last mission.

REPORTER: The engagement at Asteroid Alpha? Preceding the Second Invasion?

BASS: [pause] I- I loved him. He loved me. Became pretty obvious near the end. We met up on a UN base a bunch. By that point he was real depressed, but… I did my best to keep him company. When we went up in that shuttle, we kept holdin’ hands when we didn’t think the rest of the team was lookin’. We took some hits during the mission. He got it worse. We found a maintenance room on the base. Patched each other up.

BASS: [pauses, grimaces] We finally told each other the truth. How we felt. It was the happiest hour or so of my life. Felt invincible, even as the mission kept goin’ sideways. Some of the UN mooks bought it. Whatever. Fuck em. We had each other. When we got back, I was gonna tell Simon that Rock was out and he could shove the crystal meant for him up his blue-haired ass. And then it was time to extract. We were runnin’. Stardroids were on our asses. Artillery rainin’ down all around us. Shuttle got hit. Had to call for emergency teleporter retrieval. Everyone still alive made it back, except- except- when they pulled him back? Just scrap. He was broken. Got it in the head, too. Melted right through his IC. Nothin’ left to repair.

REPORTER: [softly] I’m real sorry. Jesus.

BASS: That mission was important. If the Stardroids got that set of crystals, we’d have been fucked. No more Earth, or at least nobody left on its surface. Instead, they gave us the fighting chance we needed. That mission bought peace, at least for a few years. And Rock never got to fuckin’ enjoy it. Going into the mission, I knew that even if we won the invasion, it wouldn’t last. But I was gonna hold Rock’s hand and pull him back from getting involved. I’d break his chain.

BASS: [pause, expression sours further] One of my oldest brothers was along on the mission. And his little buddy was our pilot. They got out intact. And in the months after, I had to watch them live out what was taken from me. They got to enjoy that future together. They’re still out there. But Rock? He’s in the ground. Everyone else got to move on. People got married or moved in together or retired. People smiled. But I couldn’t move on. I never did. I still got family out there, but I just can’t face them for more than a bit at a time. I was a real bitter cunt about it for years. Guess I… wanted to drive a wedge. But nobody had it in them to get mad at me, really. My oldest bro and the pilot? They still get supplies out to me every once in a while. It hurts to see ‘em. But… it’s not their fault. I blame you humans. You fuckin’… sacks of shit-makin’ meat. You yanked him around. Mega Man this, everlasting peace that. He believed in you. A part of me is… really fuckin’ glad that he isn’t around to see how bad you all fucked up the world.

REPORTER: These wars were fought by Reploids, though?

BASS: Go fuck yourself. They fight because of you. Sigma wanted out, you couldn’t just let him out. Repliforce wanted out, but you couldn’t just let ‘em go. You just can’t let go of your control, of your idea of coming back to how things were. You’re so turned on by what was, you send Rock’s littlest brother, dressed up like him, to try to turn the clock back, again and again. It’s fucked up. You’re a bunch of perverts for that.

REPORTER: That hardly seems-

BASS: Shut up. When your shiny fuckin’ colony came down, that was on you. It was because you just kept scratchin’ at the wound. And sure enough, now you got your expensive cities in your fancy new order. And shit’s fucked for robots all over again. And sure enough, another huge war just happened that bots had to fight for the weak humans. Because you never tried to stand for yourselves. And just like before, it’s a Wily and a Light fixin’ shit. But you’re not grateful. If Dad had just won…

BASS: [trails off, distraught]

REPORTER: [defiantly] Do you think Rock would still be alive if your father had just conceded and stopped the war? Do you think maybe a more ready response to the Second Invasion that didn’t involve Rock could have been prepared if the Drop Corps hadn’t been so focused on putting down his uprisings?

Bass stands suddenly, a burning hatred in his eyes. His teeth are gritted. The reporter takes a step back, startled. Instantly, Bass is across the room, very much in the man’s personal space. He jabs a finger against the man’s chest- right against the camera lens.

BASS: Get out.

REPORTER: I-I’m sorry, that was inapp-

In a blur, Bass’s half-disassembled buster is up. It fires off to the side. An arc of electricity jumps out of the open panel, scorching Bass’s own forearm plating. It is visibly cracked.

BASS: Get. The fuck. Out!

The reporter leaves the shack, taking care to not make any sudden moves. Audible is a crunch of machinery, and the clattering of a chair. As he exits, the reporter turns back. A hole the size of a watermelon has been blasted in the exterior wall of the shack, its edges still glowing. Bass is visible through the ajar door. He’s collapsed into his work bench chair. He’s retracted his buster. One of its panels is splayed at a bad angle, a consequence of retracting it while it’s still damaged. The buster hand is clutching the side of his head. In his other hand is a small photograph. Bass is not looking at the photograph, as his eyes are clenched shut. His teeth are gritted. The reporter closes the door. The reporter turns to his hoverbike. The footage ends.

COMMENT: Public relations here. I’ve gone over the footage. This is unusable. Impossible to clean up without just destroying any meaning. It’s not like he really gave us much insight, except stuff that’d be super controversial. There’s just no reality where this is valuable. I’ll throw it in the vault but we really, really cannot show this.