Make believe is reborn
Myths in mind rethought
Question all that's known
Legends blurred and torn.

MEGAMAN: ReISSUE

<<PROLOGUE: REPORT>>

Tuesday, June 15th, 20XX
Washington DC, USA
12:38:11 AM

A short, nondescript black car with tinted windows pulled up the driveway of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, starkly contrasting the pristinely white building beyond it. It slowed to a stop in front of the doors, idling there for just long enough for a man in the backseat to get out before it sped away, almost as if it were afraid.

The man who'd left the car wore a worn but clean labcoat, desperately clinging to his status as a scientist almost as desperately as he wanted the cigarettes he'd left back at the Institute. His hand held the briefcase that was handcuffed to his wrist in a white-knuckled way. His beard was a shock of prematurely white hair, mactching the dishevelled mop he sported on the top of his skull, and his face was the picture of uncomfortable resolve. He glanced down at himself for the hundredth time to make sure he'd actually put on the right tie today, the one that went with his sky-blue shirt and the black slacks that hung off of his gaunt frame as if he were a coat rack, and breathed deeply before stepping up to the building that loomed over him now like some kind of bureaucratic monster.

Security at the door checked him in quickly; he'd been here before after all, almost once a week now, giving his reports. But today. . . today was the first day since the initial briefings that he'd be speaking directly to the President of the United States. Forget the Joint Chiefs, forget the seemingly endless and redundant advisors that politics dictated the man surround himself with, today was the big one. Make it good and pray to God, or fail utterly and live out the remaining days with nothing but shattered hopes. Those were the only options that lay before him now.

He sat in an intentionally uncomfortable chair for what seemed like an eternity before a faceless aide came to him.

"Dr. Thomas Light?" the aide asked.

"That's me," the scientist nodded, standing up.

"Follow me, please," the aide told him, the barest hint of emotion failing to cross his features.

The scientist and the aide wound their way through a labyrinth of cubicles, filing cabinents and the occasional opulent room before they arrived at a staircase that led down into the sublevels of the building. Dr. Thomas Light felt an involuntary chill as the aide brought him to, and then left him at, another security checkpoint.

"Dr. Light?" A man in a black suit asked as he melted out of the shadows.

"Er... yes, yes that's me." Thomas affirmed, caught a little off guard.

"The President will see you now."

Dr. Light numbly passed through the security checkpoint and through a set of double doors into a darkened, sleek room. Screens with weather reports, military deployment charts, enemy intelligence reports, internet chatter, and government database information all flashed around the room. And all of this information did nothing to distract the stares the scientist encountered as he entered.

"Dr. Light," the person at the head of the table, the President of the United States, said smoothly. "Welcome. I hear you have something to show us."

"Er, yes," Dr. Light managed meekly before rallying his remaining nerves. "Yes, I'm here to give the latest status reports on Project Battle Line."

"Well then, by all means, proceed," The President encouraged, smiling warmly.

Thomas Light walked quickly to the other side of the table, past all manner of advisory aides, and put his briefcase down on the edge of the table, clicking it open. He pulled out several informational packets that he passed out to the people around the table, and one piece of flat black metal that he set on top of the briefcase once it was closed again.

"As you know," Dr. Light began, feeling some of his anxiety melt away as he started talking about the things he'd been working on for years, "Project Battle Line has had two major setbacks since the project began eight years ago. The first was the difficulty we faced getting the human body to accept the System without violently rejecting it, which we have since managed to work our way around, and the second was earlier this year, in February, when we lost our first successful test subject."

One of the men around the table spoke up. "And how did you lose your subject again, Doctor?"

Thomas paled a little, although in the dim light of the Situation Room it was probably impossible to tell. "It was an unexpected catastrophic failure in one of the aspects of Project Battle Line that we had already tested successfully."

"That aspect being...?" the same voice pressed.

"The Personal Teleportation Unit."

"And do you know WHY that happened yet? Or should we expect it to happen again?"

Dr. Light felt his eye twitch, which it always did when he was annoyed and he had no nicotine in his blood. "After revisiting the basic concepts of the PTU, it was discovered that the System as a whole, once installed and active, interfered with the PTU's navigational functions, effectively sending our first successful test subject to a completely random location, if he was sent there in one piece at all. It's more than likely his constituent atoms were scattered to the winds.

"But, after that of course, we went back to the drawing board and revisted all the fundamentals of the project, and I'm happy to say we've fixed the problem."

"You have another successful test subject?" someone else in the room asked eagerly.

"Yes, indeed. He's a remarkable boy, and he's done very well in the tests so far." Dr. Light couldn't help but show some pride in his features.

"And the PTU...?" another voice asked.

"Ro. . . er, it works. It works incredibly well, actually."

"Good job, Doctor," the President smiled, standing up. Everyone else in the room stood up only a half-second later. "I look forward to attending a full demonstration in two weeks."

"Thank you."

A short while after Dr. Light left the Situation Room, another scientist entered.

"Dr. Albert Wily," the President greeted him curtly.

"A pleasure to be here again, gentlemen," he grinned. Wirey gray hair shot out of his head at all angles, giving him a permanently dishevelled appearance, in no way hindered by a wide, irregular mustache that seemed to come to sharp points all over. A long chin and uneven teeth finished the portrait of an ambitious scientist.

"Let's get this over with," a deep voice said from the table. "Your status report?"

Albert laughed. It was a low, cunning laugh that chilled the spine of everyone he met. "Ah, ah, ah, now you know our agreement. Information is valuable, and you must give ME something before I can give YOU something."

There was an unease that settled into the room before the President handed him a copy of the packet Dr. Thomas Light had handed out only minutes before. "There. That's what you asked for. Now tell us, damn it, what your progress has been."

"So testy today!" Wily laughed again. "No need to get all worked up. We're all. . . friends here, right?" He glanced at the packet, and his eyes lit up. "Excellent. This is all I need to bring Project Gomorrah up to spec."

"I'd like to say," the President said sternly, "just one more time, that while I am aware that this is a necessary step, I do not like fooling the good Dr. Light. I believe he would be more than cooperative if we brought him in on this."

"Light? Bah," Wily scoffed, barely looking up from the papers in his hand. "Ever since college, he's only been concerned with helping the public. A noble cause, to be sure," he added quickly, "but not at all what you powerful people need. Trust me, Project Gomorrah is in good hands. I'll have six additional units in the testing stages in two weeks, each matching the critera you've given me."

"Get it done, Wily," someone else in the room said. "We're placing a lot of faith in you, and I'd like to not see it go to waste."

"Rest assured, friend," Wily giggled as he walked to the door, "I'll be able to give you more than you ever imagined."

<<CHAPTER 1: ETHIC>>

Monday, June 28th, 20XX
Undisclosed Location, USA
4:20:45 PM

The lab was a mess. Cables littered the floor, stretching to and from the massive, fluid-filled capsule in the middle of the room. Computers of all shapes, sizes, and even ages ringed the tank, displaying all kinds of data. Inside of the thick green liquid of the tank, one could make out the vague shape of a human body.

Dr. Light snapped on the lights as he entered the lab, tossing a clipboard full of things he already knew onto one of the few empty tables in the room before making a round of the computers circling the tank.

He mumbled to himself as he went, checking out the vital statistics, synchronization rates, hormonal levels and brain activity. When everything checked out green, he heaved a sigh and sat down at another table. He opened the vanilla folder that waited for him there and looked, as he had each day since Project Battle Line had begun, at his initial concept sketches and the first pieces of the human puzzle he'd pieced together to make his System feasible.

The Light System, as he'd intended to call it before it had become. . . repurposed. It was supposed to be a purely medical application. A radical type of gene and physical therapy that involved several treatments to strengthen weakened bone structure, regenerate damaged neurological tissue, restore full mobility to injured limbs, or even supply an unheard-of level of success with the robo-prosthetics even now being developed by medical firms across the country, it was Dr. Thomas Light's life's work. It was his vision for a better future for human health, where the lame could walk again and the blind might see.

But of course, his methods had proven unreliable in his early research, and he'd been forced to go through a painful era of trial and error before he began to see even a hint of the results he'd been searching for. The road behind him was paved with dead or brain-dead mice, monkeys, and voluntary human subjects, and he'd been cut off from his research money by facilities all across the country. It wasn't like it had mattered much, though. They'd never really given him enough to complete the project, just to figure out more pieces to the puzzle.

It wasn't until an old friend of his from his college days had recommended developing the project under governmental supervision that Thomas had really weighed the pros and cons of the reality that might entail. He knew as soon as he thought about it that the people in Washington would try and find a military application for his work, and it took them only nanoseconds to come up with a proposal for a System-enhanced super-soldier. The whole idea left a bad taste in Dr. Light's mouth, but it was a means to an incredible end. Hopefully, with this one success, he'd be allowed to go back to exploring the medical options opened up by his System. The dogs from Washington had hinted as much for a long time now, and hope springs eternal.

The being in the tank was the second successful product of Project Battle Line; a new type of soldier that could be anywhere and fell any foe. Enhanced strength and speed, as well as cybernetically upgraded reaction time and heightened senses were the immediate effects of the System, but that was only part one of the entire project.

To work with the System, Dr. Light also developed an exoskeletal system to aid in rehabilitation, which had morphed into a sort of battle armor under the shadow of Project Battle Line. The current shell sat in a corner of the room, stacked neatly on a series of boxes. It was a dull, unpainted gray and it seemed to drink in the light. It was almost forbidding, in a way.

Dr. Light stood up, lighting a cigarette and walking over to the tank. He peered inside. The boy within wore a serene expression, even through the tangled mass of patches and wires that kept careful track of his vital signatures.

"I hope some day you can forgive me for the things I've done," he muttered.

Tuesday, June 29th, 20XX
Undisclosed Location, USA
12:00:01 PM

"Time to wake up, Rock."

"Mm?"

"Time to wake up," Dr. Light repeated with a half smile. "It's almost time for the demonstration."

The green fluid make an odd noise as a pale hand reached up out of it, grabbing onto the edge of the tank and hauling up the body of a young man. He couldn't be older than 20, and even as he pulled himself out of the tank, none of the liquid actually clung to his body, leaving his hair a dry, tangled, raven black mess. He took in the room around him with a half-lidded expression before yawning.

"Come on, get dressed," Dr. Light smiled. "We have enough time for some breakfast before the demonstration."

The youth slid down the side of the tank, a ten-foot drop, landing with practiced ease. He picked up a simple black kevlar jumpsuit with sky blue stripes down the sides and slipped into it. "I feel a little tired, Doc."

Dr. Light nodded, watching the youth's movements carefully. "It's a side effect of the System. It takes the body a few weeks to adjust to the increased energy needs." He found himself mentally checking off a list of things that amazed him, though. Codename 'Rock', the youth before him, had adapted much faster to the System than his first test subject. Where Codename 'Proto' had taken weeks simply to become ambulatory under his own power again, Rock had taken leaps and strides, literally, ahead of his predecessor. The only remaining detrimental effect of the System's installation was the general fatigue it imposed as the body adjusted to the effects.

He watched as Rock easily walked over and started strapping on the somewhat foreboding gray armor. The helmet covered the entirety of his head, save for the face, and even then had a strip of high-impact clear LCD display across the eyes to aid in target acquisition and general suit diagnostics. It also held a number of contact points that were, for the moment, inactive.

The chest plate and shoulder pads acted as both armor and a power source, linking into the rest of the armor through specialized embedded circuit-fibers woven into the kevlar jumpsuit Rock now wore. The power source itself was amazing: a self-perpetuating electron trade with the air around it that made it dry ice-cold to the touch but provided a steady, reliable amount of energy.

The boots of the armor looked slightly ridiculous, ballooning out slightly about halfway down the calf and forming almost comically large feet. These provided an incredible stability, and were also required to accommodate the small-scale jet engines that could allow Rock to leap dozens of meters or fly for limited periods of time. The belt was clipped into place next, providing a number of magnetic-lock ports for holsters, pouches, and other equipment and was more secure than a simple strap or velcro.

Last came the gauntlets. The right gauntlet was simply that: a large, armored glove, housing three electromagnetically telescoping impact studs near the knuckles to add incredible power to Rock's already System-enhanced punch, as well as another impact stud mounted to the elbow pad for increased melee options.

But the left gauntlet was, in many ways, the most daunting piece of the armor. Instead of ending in a hand, it extended several inches beyond Rock's arm and ended in a wide, rounded muzzle. With it's own self-perpetuating power source built right into the gauntlet, the experimental weapon had been designed specifically for use with Dr. Light's System by a weapons manufacturer who was also on the government payroll. Even now, after seeing it in action, Thomas Light was unsure of the science behind it.

The entire suit of armor locked down, clamping comfortably over Rock's body and linking into his nervous system through the array of contacts on the inside of the helmet. He let out a contented sigh as small figures and symbols flashed across his visor.

"It's like coffee in the morning," he remarked, walking with now metallic footsteps over to the doctor.

"Glad it puts you in such a good mood," Thomas commented.

"Are there bagels in the cafeteria? Because if there are, I'm there," Rock smiled.

Dr. Light laughed, appreciative of the youth's attempt to break some of the tension that held such a tight grip on the doctor these days. They walked in silence to the cafeteria, mostly because they both had little to talk about besides business, and neither of them wanted to dwell on it.

They grabbed some food and sat down, Rock getting only a few stares now that most of the people in the facility had seen him by now. Of course, it's hard to phase a group of people who constantly work on advances in military technology four hundred feet underground, but even so, Rock's presence and demeanor had managed it.

"Room for another?" someone asked Dr. Light.

"Albert!" Thomas laughed. "Of course, of course, by all means, sit down." The other scientist pulled up a chair and set the tray down, giving Rock a smile and a nod. Dr. Light introduced him. "Rock, this is Albert Wily, a friend of mine from college."

"Pleased to meet you," Rock said through a mouth full of bagel.

"So, Tom, today's the big day, right?" Albert asked after returning the pleasantry.

"Yes. We're due at the demonstration field in an hour."

"Worried your toy soldier won't meet expectations?" Albert chuckled. "You look a little pale."

"I'm just tired," Thomas sighed, waving a hand in the air. "Rock's done phenomenally well in the progressive tests, and I doubt he'll be anything but the top of his game today, right Rock?"

The youth swallowed his food before replying. "Piece of cake," he grinned, then a look crossed his face. "Cake... do they have cake up there?"

"Good to hear," Albert smiled.

Rock got up, his tray empty despite having been loaded with food, and went in search of more. Thomas watched him go and allowed himself a happy sigh. "Just a few more hours and I can go back to exploring the medical applications of my work."

"Congratulations on that, by the way," Albert nodded. "I heard a juicy rumor that they're setting you up with a private lab in New York."

"So they really are letting me get back to my own work? You don't think they'll make me continue this project?" Thomas asked, trying hard not to believe too much for fear of being disappointed.

Albert shrugged, but winked. "Just a rumor, you understand."

"What about your project? Gomorrah?" Thomas asked his friend.

Again, Albert shrugged. "I've hit some dead ends, but I've got a rather interesting set of tests scheduled for tomorrow and I hope it pans out well."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," Thomas smiled warmly, looking at his watch and standing up. "You're a brilliant scientist, Albert. I'm sure you'll amaze us all before you're through with your work here."

"Maybe," Wily grinned as his friend left, tapping Rock on the shoulder and they both moved with some haste out of the cafeteria.

<<CHAPTER 2: TEST>>

Tuesday, June 29th, 20XX
Unnamed Aboveground Testing Field, USA
1:30:45 PM

Dr. Light breathed deeply, the fresh air up there making him want that cigarette only slightly less. He adjusted the headset he was wearing. "Good to go, Rock?"

"I'm all locked in. Just give the word," the youth's voice crackled over the headset.

"Excellent. It's almost show time."

The field was a wide expanse of desert, ringed by high hills and mountains, which made it a perfect testing ground when coupled with a government-regulated no-fly zone and electrified fences with guards in every direction beyond the hills. A single road cut through the middle of this vast area, and that road now played host to a long, black car with two American flags mounted to the front. It rolled to a stop near Dr. Light and four men piled out, giving the area a critical look before allowing the President to exit the vehicle.

"Dr. Light," the President said brightly. "We're on schedule, I hope."

"Yes we are," the scientists nodded. "We can begin whenever you're ready."

The President of the United States looked around, nodding. "Just make it worth the trip and the expense," the President warned, gesturing to the line of three UGV Atlas-class tanks that sat on one end of the field. "Remote vehicles like the ones we're using today don't grow on trees."

"Understood," Dr. Light said, clicking on his headset. "Rock," he said into the mic, louder than was necessary, "the President would like to meet you now."

"Roger" Rock's voice came through.

The air came alive with the feeling of static energy, and there was a bright flash of light. All four Secret Service men jumped as one moment, there was open desert in front of the President, and the next was this armored man. Rock wore a perfect, if not lopsided, smile, and offered the President a headset identical to the one Dr. Light wore.

"I see the PTU works," the President smiled, undaunted. "Put your gun down, Ron, I'm in no danger here. I doubt you'd be able to hurt him anyway." The lead Secret Service member glanced at the President before nodding and re-holstering his pistol. "And this is for. . . ?" the President asked, taking the headset and sliding it on.

"Well, to help you understand what these kinds of test put the. . . subject through," Thomas Light said, "You'll be able to communicate with Rock throughout the test, ask him any questions you might have directly instead of going through me."

"I've been told to be honest," Rock said, rolling his eyes.

The President and Dr. Light shared a laugh. "Shall we begin?" Thomas asked.

"By all means," nodded the President.

"First of all, I'd like to go over Rock's opposition for this test. The Unmanned Ground Vehicle series really outdid itself with the Atlas-class tank," Dr. Light nodded, looking down at his clipboard for some of his notes. "120mm main cannon, reliable assembly that almost never stalls, the ability to run on and store solar energy, and an outwardly mounted payload of claymore mines, it's no RC scout car, that's for sure. Up until now, they're the American Military's number one solution for heavily armed hostile ground forces, because they're relatively cheap to build and there's no risk of losing a soldier if they go down in battle."

"They are an impressive piece of work," the President nodded. "I believe I've dispatched several to the Middle East recently."

"And they've been performing admirably," Dr. Light smiled. "However, in this day and age, it pays to stay as many steps ahead of your opponent as you can, and there's where the System comes in.

"Instead of an unmanned vehicle being piloted by a man in a simulator miles away, I give you an effective one man army, with drastic improvements in normal human speed and strength, along with frighteningly fast reflexes and a set of armor that further augments his abilities, Rock here is the first of a new breed of battle field operative."

"But of course," Dr. Light said, using a cell phone to send a signal that the soldiers who'd been asked to pilot the UGVs had been waiting on, "seeing is believing."

The first UGV began to roll forward. It was about the size of a large pickup truck, but was no less menacing than any other modern tank. Dr. Light looked at Rock. "Zero aerial tactics for the first one, got it? Ground stuff only."

"Roger that," Rock nodded, walking away from the group toward the tank. He picked up speed as he got farther away, finally breaking into a full run as the Atlas's turret began to take aim at him.

"How fast is he going?" the President asked offhandedly.

"38. . . 39 miles an hour," Rock's voice replied easily in the President's ear. "I can go faster, but I don't need to."

The President let out a low whistle, raising an eyebrow and looking at Dr. Light. "Nice, but all the speed and personal armor in the world won't save him from one of those 120mm shells."

"Just watch," Thomas smiled.

The Atlas's cannon barked loudly, with flame and smoke exploding out of the barrel as the shell flew forward. The loud report of the cannon's concussion masked another sound, however: the high-pitched whine of Rock's own weapon.

Superheated air slammed with sledgehammer force into the shell, forcing the ammunition to explode a mere five feet outside of the cannon's barrel. The blast wave of the shell hit the tank just as it started to settle down from the recoil, a rush of hot air catching the tank underneath it and lifting it up, ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Rock was there, crouched low, his right arm coming up and hitting the underside of the tank near the front hard, the telescoping impact studs on his knuckles driving holes through the armor and sending the resulting shrapnel whizzing into the vital innards of the UGV. The superhuman punch rocked the tank backwards even more, giving Rock plenty of time to remove his fist from the hole he'd forced into the metal and calmly place a hand on the underside of the vehicle, accepting the weight of the machine as it began to come forward again.

One of the Secret Service men swore out loud as the tank hung there, held up by the youth's single hand. Rock turned his head, looking back at the crowd.

"Target one neutralized," Rock affirmed over the headset. "Ready for stage two, Doc."

"I see you've put Project Longinus's plasma weaponry to excellent use," the President nodded.

Dr. Light bit his lower lip. "Unfortunately, due to the power requirements and heat generated by the weapon, Rock can only fire about three shots before a forced cool down time for the weapon prevents him from using it for a few seconds," he admitted. "And those same limitations have so far prevented anyone from creating a handheld version of the weapon."

"At least we have someone who can use the thing, right?" the President said, shrugging. "Works for me. Let's move on with it."

"Stage 2, Rock," Dr. Light said over the headset. "Show us what a man with enhanced strength is capable of."

"No problem, Doc," Rock replied, a smile evident in his voice even over the hiss of the static.

As the other two UGVs began to roll forward, the youth shoved the tank he was still holding, watching it slowly list until it was almost completely upright. In a flash of motion he spun around, kicking the disabled Atlas almost directly in the center of the underside. The effect was jaw dropping, as the UGV left the ground for several feet before hitting heavily and rolling, end over end, with a torturous sound of dying metal.

The two new opponents hastily back up, one of them almost getting caught by the ruined, rolling hulk of the destroyed Atlas. The dust began to settle as the tank rocked back and forth on its turret, now horribly mangled.

"Where'd he go?" someone asked.

The question didn't go unanswered for long. Rock came in from the side of the two vehicles that had also lost track of him, moving at an incredible speed. He leapt cleanly over the first tank, firing a pin-point shot of superheated plasma that disabled the vehicle's radar array and left a small, smouldering crater around it. He landed lightly on the second UGV.

The turret of the second tank swung around wildly, hoping to knock him off, but Rock simply placed a foot on the barrel of the cannon and held it there, the servos of the turret's control burning themselves out as it tried to overpower him. The first tank, in the meantime, had drawn an accurate solution on him and opened fire.

Rock stepped to one side, the shell flying by harmlessly and exploding against the side of one of the bordering hills with little effect. As a new round cycled into the turret, Rock casually fired a plasma shot that flew straight down the barrel of the cannon that was adjusting its aim. The effect of the shell exploding inside the tank's turret was catastrophic, leaving only a gutted shell belching fire and smoke.

Returning his attention to the vehicle he was standing on, Rock brought his right hand up and slammed it down, not only literally punching a hole in the turret but also creating a spider-web of stress fractures all over the vehicle's armor. The shock threw the remaining electronics of the vehicle into lockdown mode and the UGV shut down, leaving Rock to draw his arm out of the dead vehicle.

"Stage 2's done, Doc," Rock reported. "Anything else?"

Dr. Thomas Light smiled, glancing sideways at a speechlessly amazed President. "No, Rock, I believe that's it for today."

"Roger that."

<<CHAPTER 3: PROMISE>>

Sunday, August 4th, 20XX (-5)
Suburbs of New Detroit, USA
4:09:21 PM

"The Marine Corps?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Rock, you can barely do pushups."

"That's not all it's about!" Rock grunted defensively.

"Yes it is," the blonde girl he was talking to insisted. "It's all just overly macho showoffs who get killed for stupid reasons."

"That's not it either, Roll. Quit it."

"What's so bad about here? About this place? Don't you like it here?" Roll asked, applying a peroxide soaked cotton ball to the scrape on Rock's face. The boy hissed in pain.

"Well. . . yeah," he managed through gritted teeth.

"Then wh-"

"Look," Rock cut her off, "I've got my reasons, okay? Sometimes a guy has to do what a guy has to do."

There was a long silence between them as Roll finished applying the bandages. "I still think it's stupid."

"I'll just have to live with that," Rock muttered.

They sat there a while hurt feelings and frustration filling the air between them in the night. Rock looked up as rain began to fall, slowly at first, and then faster.

He breathed in the wet air, feeling better for it. He'd always liked the rain. It made him feel alive. He didn't notice that Roll's gaze had only traveled down, staring inertly at the ground. He glanced over at her. "We should get inside," he said after a while. "No need to catch a cold."

He stood up, brushed off the back of his pants, and offered her a hand.

She didn't take it.

"Just. . . tell me why," she half-sobbed.

Puzzlement crossed Rock's face. "Why what?"

Her shoulders heaved as she looked up, tears mixing with the rain. "Why you had to go and get yourself beaten up again, you jerk!"

The black-haired boy felt a smile appear on his face involuntarily.

"I made a promise, didn't I?"

Wednesday, June 30th, 20XX
Undisclosed Location, USA
2:00:47 AM

Dr. Albert Wily pressed a button of the mini-tape recorder and held it in the general vicinity of his shoulder.

"Personal log," he muttered into the device's microphone, "Action Date minus 388 days."

He paused the recording and took a deep breath, trying to quell an excitement he'd felt building in his system since the meeting in the Situation Room a little over two weeks ago. He looked once more at the six identical glass tubes, each filled with a viscous green liquid and a barely visible shape inside.

He clicked the recorder on again. "The final pieces are in place for Phase 8 of the plan. Finally, after all of this time and money, and after all of this rather ridiculous investment of my personal attention, I'm finally beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's a dangerously gratifying feeling. Unlike many of my peers, I will not stop here and celebrate this victory, even one so major as this, because that would require me to take my eye off of the ball, and at this point that is a luxury I cannot afford."

He got up from his chair and walked toward the tank on the far left of the room. It amused him, really, that he had only come as far as he had because of the self-interested cooperation of the federal government. They had been remarkably easy to manipulate. It was a wonder no one had done it before, really.

He set a hand on the screen of the first tank, checking vital statistics. "The first six units are nearing completion," he continued to narrate to the small device in his hand. "They fulfill my original visions in so many ways, and yet they. . . changes had to be made, understandably. Nothing can be in reality what the truly brilliant mind puts to paper. Perhaps with future, more personal revisions to Thomas's little System, I can achieve greater things, but for now, these shall do."

"The first unit, officially known as DRWN-01 and Codenamed 'Incinerator,' is possibly the simplest, yet deadliest. The human race has, after all, long held a fearful fascination of fire, and fine tuning the augmentation and therapy processes to enhance natural insulation and resistance to heat is only the first step here. Of course, my original subject, hand picked by The Council over a year ago, is a pyromaniac, and if it were possible, would be a pyrophile, but I digress. This psyche, combined with the enhancements and the equipment I have lined up, will make for a unique shock trooper."

He paused the machine to clear his throat and take a drink of water from an unmarked bottle before continuing. "The second unit, DRWN-02, is Codenamed 'Frosty,' and is a literal polar opposite of the first unit. Similar therapy and enhancements geared toward increasing his tolerance to lower temperatures were a large part of my focus. In keeping with the theme, I've gotten a hold of a few schematics for several different proposals for working cryo weapons, many of which look rather delightful. More work is required to bring this one up to spec, but I'm looking forward to see what results I can achieve.

"Third unit, DRWN-03, obviously, is Codenamed 'Safe-Cracker,' although I must admit this is a misnomer. I took the strength enhancements of Light's System and took them far, far past their recommended safety levels, with some startling success. Light always was cautious when it came to limits. I have yet to do any field testing, but I'm certain, given what Rock has shown to be capable of, that Safe-Cracker will not be hard pressed to literally crack a safe. Or anything, for that matter." He leaned closer to the tube and gave the glass a critical eye. "Personal note: acquire a larger medi-vat for DRWN-03."

He moved on, actually backing away some from the next tube. "DRWN-04, AKA 'Laceration,' is either the best or worst idea The Council has come up with in my time with World 3. All throughout the screening process, many people had to work very hard to keep his impulses under control. If he had lost it at any point, if anyone in that chain had failed even slightly, he would've been lost to us, and maybe the entire operation would have been set back, or worse, destroyed. Still, his psychotic nature will serve us well come the Action Date. All that remains now is keeping him under wraps long enough and well enough to explain away any outrageous actions he might undertake as simple mental damage from the System."

Wily paused the machine again to take a drink of water, maintaining his distance from the tanks as he moved on. "DRWN-05. . . 'Tesla'. Such a pretty little woman when she was first brought to me. I'm happy to say I've kept her face intact, although I'm afraid her figure has suffered somewhat through the upgrading process. The real trick was to get the wiring running through her back and arms correctly without the materials involved poisoning her biological system. Above all of the others, she has required the most work and attention, and she has attempted to die no less than four times since the installation process began. Still, if initial projections prove to be true, she shall be worth the trouble."

"And finally, there is DRWN-06. While still without a Codename, I am more proud of this unit's overall design than any of the others. Part of that may be because I, personally, designed this unit from the ground up, and I am, admittedly, a vain son of a bitch," Wily chuckled, "but it is difficult to deny the brilliance of the design. The government. . . hell, The Council itself will have a whole new level of respect for me when they witness the power this one wields."

Wily paused for a moment, letting the tape run to encompass the moment, and then sighed happily. "In ten hours, I will present the six dummy subjects to the government as per the plan. With Dr. Light leaving soon, and a fresh batch of World 3 operatives arriving to help finish the subtle takeover of this facility, we are very close to the completion of Phase 8. Once that is done, Phase 9 can begin, and we'll see exactly how good Thomas Light's System really is."

"The Action Date is only a little over a year away," he said with some satisfaction in his voice. "I almost can't wait."

"End personal log entry."

Wednesday, June 30th, 20XX
Undisclosed Location, USA
6:09:32 PM

"So what's next for you, Doctor?"

Thomas Light smiled. "Well, I've finally been given all of the pieces I need to continue my work and turn it into a tool that can truly help mankind. Now all that's left is to do it."

"Good for you, Doc," Rock smiled.

They stood in a garage at ground level, next to a bus that was dropping off a load of fresh faces. Every few months, the facility rotated non-essential staff to keep the top-secret stuff top-secret. Today, however, Dr. Light was leaving on that same bus, bound for the airport, New York, and the rest of his life.

It was everything he had wanted since the day he'd signed the dotted line that had turned his dream into a weapon. And yet, he still regretted leaving that same weapon behind.

The scientist looked at the dark-haired youth. "I'm sorry that you had to go through this."

"I volunteered," Rock shrugged. "I was aware of what I was getting into." He checked himself mentally, looking down at the kevlar jumpsuit he was wearing under his coat and pants. "Okay, that's a lie. I had no clue, but I could probably kick Superman's butt now if he was real, so I can't complain about it. Plus, I was able to help you out, so there's a bonus.

"You're a good person," Dr. Light nodded. "But now I suppose they'll be shipping you off to fight in some god-forsaken mud hole halfway around the globe."

"I'm a soldier," Rock shrugged. "It's what I do. Even better now, actually. They're giving the armor a general tune-up and an electro-plated paint job, I heard. You left them an instruction manual, right? I'd hate for it to be all buggy when I get it back."

"Yes, of course. Don't worry." Thomas Light smiled. But inwardly, he felt a stab of pain. It was seamless now, the integration, not just of the System. An irreversible change, and one Dr. Light was sworn to secrecy about. Not even Rock himself knew the true extent. . .

People. . . lives would be saved by Light's System. Millions, maybe even billions, of people would benefit from the research and the testing done here. Modern medicine had been re-invented in a radical way and the elusive methods to help the blind to see and the lame to walk were about to be made available for the first time in the history of technology.

But at what price?

Rock offered the doctor a hand. "I'll see you around, Doc. Enjoy New York."

Dr. Light took the hand, feeling even worse for the firm, honest handshake he was given.

"I hope that someday. . . you can forgive me for the things I've done," Dr. Light said sadly as he turned away from Rock and boarded the vehicle. The doors closed and the engine revved to life, leaving the garage and picking up speed. Rock watched it disappear into the distance, only to see his own transportation, a specially outfitted military APC, come rolling toward him from the horizon.

He picked up a duffel bag full of clothes that he'd brought along and sighed, looking over his serial number and name, still neatly written on the bag after these four years in the service. The bag itself was in excellent condition as well, given that he'd had it since boot camp on Paris Island.

"Well," Rock sighed as the APC rolled to a stop in front of him, "time to get back to work."

<<CHAPTER 4: FIELD>>

Friday, October 5th, 20XX
Turkmenistan Border, 30KM from Ashgabat
3:56:12 AM Local Time

The candlelight flickered in the darkness of the bunker, drawing a frustrated growl from the room's sole occupant. She scribbled out the word she'd been writing and re-wrote it, her brain churning out new words to write in its place even as she continued on.

Finally, the phone rang.

She reached over and snapped up the bulky receiver. "It's about time," she snarled.

There was a delay as her voice literally shot across the globe and into the ear of the man on the other end. "Good morning to you too, sweetheart."

"I'm close on this, Tiesel. I know it. I just KNOW it."

Again, the delay. Even in this modern age, technology had its limits, although she was never sure if her boss just drew them out just for fun. "Ms. Graves, if you're gone for much longer, I'm not sure your temporary Visa will get you back into the US."

"Just one more week, Tiesel!"

"STOW IT, Alia," he barked in return after a brief pause. "I've been as lenient as I can on this, but the board is breathing down my neck wondering where in the hell one of my top writers has gone, and I don't feel very comfortable trying to explain to them that she's chasing down some kind of imaginary superhero in HOSTILE TERRITORY!"

"But Tiesel, I swear I'm close! I KNOW I am. I'm getting the runaround like crazy down-"

"No, Alia. No buts. Get your ass on the next humvee out of there if you want a desk and a job to come home to."

"Tiesel-" she tried to cut in before the click of the line going dead came through the system. She swore loudly as she slammed the receiver back down on its base. She continued to swear in a fashion that would embarrass many of the military men and women who also occupied the bunker as she shoved her notebook violently into her backpack.

There was a knock on her door. "Everything all right, Ms. Graves?"

Alia Graves paused, sweeping her short brown hair out of her eyes and taking a deep, control-asserting breath. "Yeah Tron, I'm fine."

The door opened a crack. "Was that Tiesel?"

"Yes," Alia hissed, watching the other girl with the long, dark hair wince. She tried to fake a grin. "Your brother can be a real dick sometimes, you know?"

Tron shrugged. "Bonne family trait," she excused. "The men in the family like being in control, but it's us women who have all the brains."

Alia chuckled a little. "Your camera fixed yet?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Maybe we can grab a decent shot of something on the way out of here."

Friday, October 5th, 20XX
Undisclosed Location, USA
9:00:23 AM Local Time

Dr. Albert Wily looked up from his work as the door swung open and the man in the business suit stepped in. "Ah," he smiled, "Senator Cain. What brings you to my little corner of the world?"

Julian Cain smiled back, his smirk accentuated by the shortly trimmed beard and moustache that starkly contrasted his cleanly bald head. "Well, Dr. Wily, I was in the area and figured I should at least say hello."

The door closed in the silence that followed. Both men dropped their pleasant faces.

"Power for the worthy," Senator Cain said tersely.

"Death to the fools," Wily nodded in return. He sneered and looked back at his work. "The Council sends a watchdog. Am I not pleasing them?"

"Don't forget your place, Albert," Julian snapped with equal venom. "The Council has put far too much work into you and your little project here to be willing to watch it all go to hell."

"What could I have possibly done to make them worry so?" Wily said in mock sweetness.

"Don't toy with me, Albert," Julian said through clenched teeth. "What the hell do you think THOSE are!" He pointed wildly to the large tubes that lined the room's walls, each filled with thick green liquid. The original six were now joined by an additional twenty, each with its own banks of computers and monitoring equipment. "If anyone with half a brain looked at your lab, they'd get suspicious, and everything we've done would have been for nothing."

"No," Wily corrected calmly, "everything I'VE done would be for nothing. YOU have had no hand in this. Not enough that you're in any serious danger, at least. If I fail here? So what? Why should The Council give a damn? I get executed and they name a new Wily. It may set plans back ten or so years, but it will by no means cripple the operation."

"You'll be interrogated. Drugged. You'll tell them EVERYTHING you know."

"I'll do no such thing," Wily laughed. "I did not suffer for years under the precious tutelage of Captain Sigma simply to balk at a needle or cry over some polygraph piece of garbage. I am an agent of World 3, and I understand that to be such means loyalty above all else, even death.

YOU, on the other hand, are a Republican senator who was brought in late in the game. You've only been helping our organization for, what, the last five years? Ever since we bought your vote that helped us put Thomas Light here in the first place? Please! The only reason you're here at all is because the people elected you, because they felt they could trust you." Wily laughed again. "You were in office for a week and by then you were already a part of our plans. Two months as a Senator and you'd joined us in conspiring against the very country you sought to serve. Five simple years, compared to my lifetime spent in the service of The Council, the decades of work I put into becoming the Wily.

I don't believe The Council is afraid that I might fail. I believe they're more concerned about YOU."

Cain bared his teeth, angry that this man before him would adopt such an attitude. But still, he held back his thoughts. "Be that as it may," he growled, "The Council has asked me to collect your report for the week, especially regarding information pertaining to your more recent developments."

Wily smirked and tapped a file that sat on his desk. "I was wondering what lapdog they'd send to collect it."

Cain snatched up the folder, resisting the urge to look inside it. He'd been instructed not to. "For all our sakes, Wily, you better know what you're doing."

The scientists merely grinned as the senator left.

Friday, October 5th, 20XX
Turkmenistan Border, 4KM from Ashgabat
4:20:12 AM Local Time

"At least we got to see a nice city," Tron said to no one in particular. Four faces didn't bat an eye at her comment, while the fifth one sighed.

"Yeah, Tron, I'll be sure to put Ashgabat on my list of places to visit next summer," Alia groaned.

"Try to see a bright side to all of this, Ms. Graves," Tron smiled. "We got tans, didn't we?"

"YOU got a tan," Alia replied. "I got a sunburn. AND it's starting to peel," she grimaced as she ran a hand over her cheek, pulling away flecks of skin. "God, this is going to take weeks of moisturizer to fix."

The APC rolled along on the pseudo-road of hard mountains, the occupants feeling every bump, crack, and rock in the road. Alia Graves growled in frustration as they hit a rather nasty pothole.

"Why do these military vehicles never have any padding on the seats?" she screamed.

Tron sighed, her face a picture of serene sympathy. "Yeah, all those mean civilians who want to cut back on military spending are really a pain, huh?"

"Yeah they. . . HEY! Was that a shot at me?" the other woman barked, remembering her rather strongly worded editorial article about the subject.

"You reap what you sow," Tron shrugged.

Alia opened her mouth to respond in a nasty fashion, but the APC braked to a halt and she fell out of her seat, smacking her head on the floor of the vehicle.

"SEATBELTS!" Alia grunted as she picked her head up. "Why're there no freakin' SEATBELTS?"

"There are, ma'am," on of the soldiers commented, trying to stifle a grin.

"Why doesn't anybody ever TELL me these-"

There was an explosion. It wasn't close, nor did it affect the vehicle, but the noise silenced everyone in the APC. There was a resounding click as the four soldiers readied their weapons.

"Stay here," one of them said to the two girls, popping open the back hatch on the vehicle and stepping out cautiously. There was a tense silence as another explosion sounded, followed by another. It sounded like thunder at this distance.

The soldier reappeared at the back of the APC. "We've got trouble. We have to head back, NOW."

He climbed inside and the hatch closed. Everyone held on as the driver spun the vehicle about and started driving, this time faster then they'd been moving before.

"What's going on?" Alia asked, finally locating her seatbelt.

"Explosions in the city. Possibly some sort of insurgent attack."

"Iranian troops?" another soldier asked.

"More than likely. Dammit, how'd they get past us?"

"We're going to need reinforcements. If they're setting off bombs in the city, they've got a decent military presence there as well," the other soldier said thoughtfully. "Take and hold."

"We're gonna have ta rout 'em outta there," the third soldier, a larger man, groused.

"Yeah," the first soldier nodded. "It's going to be a long damn day."

Friday, October 5th, 20XX
US Operations Base, Qatar
4:25:10 AM Turkmenistan Time

"At 0420 hours the Turkmenistanian capital city of Ashgabat came under attack from as of yet unknown insurgent enemy forces. Fireteams Charlie and Zulu along with Special Unit 'Megaman' are to be deployed immediately to aid locally stationed US forces in a bid to retake the city from enemy hands. ETA is two hours."

Rock walked away from the briefing with some anxiety. It wasn't that he was scared, but he felt the pressure of being a 'Special Unit'. When he was a regular soldier, he would be with his unit right now, getting ready and known that he was part of a team he couldn't let down. A team that wouldn't let him down.

These days, he worked alone. A big, flashy, well armored distraction that could take whatever the enemy threw at him while the other units moved in and disrupted the root of the insurgency. In a part of the world where radicals, both religious and political, operated without national borders, this kind of work was commonplace.

But it still didn't stop him from feeling alone sometimes.

He was moving out of his quarters before the armor had finished locking down. Now electroplated in a dark blue, it glimmered in a way akin to menace in the bright floodlights of the base. He was familiar with the looks he received now around the other soldiers. Some skeptical, some in awe of what they'd seen when he was dispatched with them. The admiration and basic fear of what couldn't be understood due to his top-secret status alienated him among a crowd of people he used to call brothers.

He climbed into the transport helicopter, moving to the back of the craft as the two fireteams also assigned to the mission boarded it. He'd worked with the men from fireteam Charlie before, and gave a friendly nod to some familiar faces that smiled in ease with his presence. They didn't address him, though. As far as the chain of command was concerned, no one, not even Rock himself, knew where he stood.

The chopper lifted off of the ground only four minutes after the briefing, and Rock closed his eyes, focusing on resting his enhanced body before the fight that was coming.