I was toying around with an Archie Megaman novelization/fic version of @befriendthemurderfox ‘s Sibling Shuffle AU, and here it is! All credit to them ❤️
Well…here you are, Roll. Time to face Dr. Wily.
The defending robots whir as their targeting systems engage, and she doesn't have to guess what they're aiming at. She leaps, her high-compression boots taking her a dozen feet higher and further than she could've managed alone. And not a moment too soon—the spot she'd been moments before is now flattened beneath several tons of metal.
…if I can get to him, that is.
The stomping robots waste no time recalibrating themselves; Roll barely has time to begin her mad dash for the fortress before they're practically on top of her once again. "Knock it off!" she roars, leaping out of the way as another giant foot slams down. "I don't have time to fight you guys!"
She leaps again, further this time, her eyes locked the building in the near distance. However, to say she's happy when her momentum carries her practically to its doorstep would be a blatant untruth. For one thing, the mere sight of this structure up close makes Roll's lip curl. A giant skull? Seriously? Talk about tacky.
She doesn't dwell on its appearance for long, though—there's something else wrong here, something of much more immediate concern. Her circulatory fluid pump engine speeds up as she realizes.
"Where's the door? Why isn't there a door here?!"
Roll's teeth clench. Stupid Wily, causing all this trouble and then hiding like a wimp! After what he did, does he really think a wall's going to keep him safe? "You can't keep me out that easily, Wily!" Roll roars. With a thought, she activates her copy chip. The powers of Guts Man surge forth, dying her armor a muddy brown as her system shifts to accommodate them. In barely a moment, the transformation is complete.
With burning eyes, Roll grabs the wall, her individual fingers punching through the concrete for a better grip. Here's what I think of your stupid castle! she seethes. Concrete and steel tear with the sound of a hundred gunshots as the little robot rips a chunk of it away, letting it fly back into the drones chasing her. The interior of the castle lays bare before her.
Roll frowns as she steps inside, deactivating the Super Arm in the process. "Jeez…what a dump. Then again, what was I expecting…Light Labs?"
But Roll doesn't have time to criticize Dr. Wily's interior decorating skills, or lack thereof—right at that moment, a steel wall slams down behind her, barring the way out. "Hey!" she shouts. "What's—ugh!"
From behind, something hits her with the force of a small car—and the texture of silly putty. "Ow!" she yelps. "What's going on?!"
She isn't kept in suspense, at least—by the time she turns around to see where the putty stuff went, it's joined with more of the same and morphed into a towering…thing. A cyclops? It's only got one eye, a big red one that's glaring right at her. The cyclops in the Odyssey wasn't perfectly spherical, though, or bright yellow. "Oh," Roll scowls, meeting its glare with a chilly one of her own. "Hello."
How did it come to this? As she leaps back to dodge a giant yellow fist. Charging up her Buster for a good shot, she can't help but wonder. Things seemed so simple a few days ago…
"A new age of…should that be a new era? I don't want to sound presumptuous…"
In the shelter of backstage, Dr. Thomas Light mutters to himself as he pours over his cue cards. His face, normally so kindly and open, is currently dark with concern. The man's eyebrows—the only two spots of black left amidst his bushy white hair—are furrowed deeply. "For the betterment of mankind…" he recites. "And to advance robotics too. Oh, I'm no good public speaking!"
"Relax." At the doctor's side, as always, a young man with messy brown hair and a wry smile leans causally against a pillar. He wears a grey jacket with cargo shorts and a bright yellow scarf, as well as large red boots. Dark shades hide his eyes, but when he speaks, it's not hard to imagine them dancing with amusement. "You're gonna do fine."
"Ah…thank you, Blues," Dr. Light sighs, some of the tension seeping out of his shoulders. "I needed to hear that. It's just, I wish—"
"Quit it, Dr. Light!" From his other side, a hand darts out to smack the doctor's own away from his hair, which he'd been about to touch. The correcting hand's owner is a girl a few years younger than Blues. She looks just darling in her little red dress, and her blonde ponytail is done up smartly with a bright green ribbon. Her sweet round face, complete with a slight pink blush, is currently twisted in a scowl. "You'll muss up your hair!"
"I'm sorry, Roll," Dr. Light chuckles, putting his hand down. "You're right, both of you—I just need to relax." Looking over his children, he can't help the warm smile that softens his face. "I would be lost without the two of you."
Roll beams, and although Blues's teenage pride keeps him at a distance, his smile is just as genuine. Looking at this pair, clearly happy to be there supporting their loving father, a bystander would never guess that they were robots. But it's true—beneath those smiles lies the most advanced coding on earth. Coding written one line at a time by none other than Dr. Light.
Blues, otherwise known as DLN-000, was his father's first success. A thinking, feeling robot, capable not only of self-determination, but creation in ways that make the line between human and robot disappear. A person with a mechanical body, Blues was Light Labs's magnum opus, Dr. Light's dream made real.
But his humanity came with a price: mere weeks after his activation, it became apparent that his body was struggling to keep up with his mind, and that his power core was on track to burning out. It looked like Dr. Light would have to overhaul him completely in order to save his life. But what would that mean for Blues, exactly?
Blues is a person, and people have fears. Some are scared of spiders; others, heights. But him? His greatest fear is no longer being him. So what if surgery would fix his core, when it carries the risk of erasing who he is? Blues without his free will, his sense of self, wouldn't be Blues at all. And so he decided—there would be no surgery,
Of course, Dr. Light didn't accept this quietly. Long nights they spent arguing, debating the benefits and the risks. Dr. Light pleaded for his son to see reason; Blues begged his father to understand. In the end, it seemed Blues's only chance to keep living as himself was to run away. Fortunately, it didn't come to that—Dr. Light caught him just in time, and the terror he felt upon realizing how close he'd come to losing his precious boy in a different sense is what finally brought him around. Now, Dr. Light performs weekly tune-ups on his core, and as a result, Blues's instabilities are under control.
But although it worked out in the end, the turmoil those instabilities caused taught Dr. Light a painful lesson: technology just isn't ready to support more robots as human as Blues. That's why, when his own desires and Blues's pleas for a sibling finally came to a head, Dr. Light made Roll a bit less advanced.
This isn't to say she's second-rate, of course—Dr. Light had poured over her designs late into the night, passing weeks in the blink of an eye as he endeavored to make her perfect. The fruits of his labor are plain to see: everything about her, from her eyelashes to her toenails, is a work of art. The mind behind that babyface is nothing to sneeze at either; although her understanding of beauty and art doesn't quite match up to her brother's, she is nonetheless a bright, clever, compassionate girl with a deep respect for all living things, and Dr. Light couldn't possibly be prouder. It's this very pride that overtakes him now, as it often does, swelling his heart as he takes in his children's precious, perfect faces.
Those faces turn around, and Dr. Light looks up. "Oh!" he exclaims, his expression bright as he sees the new arrival pushing through the curtains.
With the sun against his back, Albert Wily's stocky form is cast in shadow, giving his angular face a somewhat sinister look. His wild grey hair, fanning off both sides of his head like the wings of some agitated bird, don't do much to soften this. However, Dr. Light's greeting is warm and bright. "Good! You did decide to come! I was afraid you wouldn't make it, Albert!"
"Hey, Uncle Al," Blues grins, offering the man a two-fingered salute. His sister rolls her eyes as the doctor scowls.
"I told you not to call me that."
Roll takes this as her cue to step in. "Um, can I do anything for you, Dr. Wily?" she ventures. While not as casual (or annoying) about his appearance as her brother, she's still polite to her father's oldest friend.
That courtesy is not returned. "No," he snaps.
"Gosh Uncle Al, is something wrong?"
Dr. Light laughs as his friend fumes. "Cut them some slack, Albert," he urges. "They're just as excited as us! It's a big day, after all."
"Yes," Dr. Wily scowls, shooting Blues one last glare before turning to Dr. Light. "About that…"
Putting his arm around the larger man's shoulder, Dr. Wily leads his partner further backstage. In the shadows of the rafters, six robots stand in a row, their gazes fixed forward, unseeing. Each one has a unique design patterned around some theme—one labeled "Ice Man," is tiny and looks dressed for winter. "Guts Man," beside him, looks like a piece of construction equipment in human form. "Fire Man" is a furnace with legs. As the doctors pass each robot in turn, Dr. Wily gestures to them.
"I helped design the Robot Master line, didn't I?" he asks, his arm still around Dr. Light's shoulders.
"I helped build them, didn't I?"
Dr. Light sighs. "Yes," he concedes.
"Then I should be on that stage making the unveiling announcement with you!" Dr. Wily declares, releasing Dr. Light at last. He looks his counterpart in square the eye, daring him to contest this.
Dr. Light takes no pleasure in rising to the challenge. "Albert, we've been over this," he sighs. "You lost your credentials when you did those unethical robotics experiments. That kind of negativity would undermine everything we're trying to do with Light Labs."
Dr. Wily scowls, turning away from his friend. "Oh, how silly of me, Thomas," he spits, clenching his hands into tight fists. "I forgot that Light makes Right."
"Now hold on!" Dr. Light closes the distance between them once more and lays a hand on Dr. Wily's shoulder. "I haven't forgotten all the work we did in university," he promises the man. "You've made your mistakes, but I know you can make up for them."
"Hmph." Dr. Wily's frown doesn't waver. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat, he refuses to even look at Dr. Light.
Still, Dr. Light persists. "You're an equal partner in Light Labs where it counts," he assures him. "I certainly wouldn't trust anyone else to work on Rock for me! You'll miss out on today, but history will remember the two men who changed the future."
Dr. Light can't see his friend's face. Even if he could, he'd think nothing of it. He's a kind man with a gentle soul—he sees the best in everyone, and believes in second chances. To him, Dr. Wily is a priceless friend, one he's willing to fight for.
But Dr. Wily is so much more than Dr. Light's friend. And he's starting to think it's time the world knew it.
He whips around abruptly. "Just don't flub your lines, Tommy boy!" he exclaims, his teeth bared in a grin.
Dr. Light laughs, oblivious. "Let's not ask for miracles, Al!"
At that moment, the curtains behind them part, and Blues steps through. "Dr. Light!" he calls, waving the cue cards in one hand. "C'mon, it's time!"
"Oh boy," Dr. Light breathes, accepting the cards with shaking hands. "Okay," he declares, seemingly as much to himself as the rest of them. "Here we go!"
The stage set up in Mega City's famous Titanium Park is a lavish affair, a broad expanse of wood hemmed by rich velvet curtains. The lawn on which it's been built is positively overflowing with spectators, human and robot alike, and as Dr. Light steps up to the podium, several television cameras begins recording. He swallows hard before he begins to speak.
"Good morning, everyone!" he greets the crowd with a wave. "Thank you for coming out today for Light Labs' most important product unveiling in the history of…well, ever!"
The joke earns a chorus of laughter, and some of the doctor's fear recedes. When he continues, it's with a much steadier voice.
"Over the last century, advances in robitics have brought us a new era of better services and safer work environments, and have afforded us new luxuries. But that is not enough!"
The doctor's eyes begin to sparkle. "I believe the field of robotics can be pushed further," he declares. "That we can be pushed further for the betterment of mankind AND robot-kind."
His energy is infectious; a hush has fallen over the crowd, and even those watching from their homes find themselves leaning forward a bit, eager to hear what he'll say next. Hidden in the shadows of backstage, Blues and Roll trade looks of pride. "By pushing the boundaries of modern robotics," Dr. Lighr urges, "and working hard alongside them, I believe we can achieve more than a better tomorrow. I believe we can achieve a perfect tomorrow!"
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces. Behind him, the thick velvet curtains begin to rise. "I give you the next generation of robots: the Robot Masters!"
Dozens of lights mounted to the rafters flare to life, bathing the newly-revealed robots below. The six unique bots from earlier stand tall before the crowd, each one lit in turn as the doctor points them out. "Cut Man, who will oversee forestry management! Guts Man, who will oversee land reclamation in hazardous conditions! Ice Man, who will push arctic and Antarctic expeditions to new horizons! Bomb Man, who will revolutionize demolition and excavation practices! Fire Man, whose incinerator functions will promote waste reduction! And Elec Man, who will rewrite the book on power management!"
Cameras flash; the crowd oos and ahhs; Dr. Light stands like a beacon of hope, a herald of the future. All those late nights spent toiling away in the lab have led to this moment of triumph. Roll beams with pride as she watches her father lead the world forward.
Dr. Light isn't looking at his cue cards anymore. He's found his rhythm, and all traces of his earlier stage fright have disappeared. "These Robot Masters will have advanced AI systems that will allow them to perform complex tasks, interact with people, and direct other robots in their duties," he explains, gesturing broadly to the crowd. "They will be the vanguard of a new age, the pioneers of a bold new path for humans and robots! Working hand and hand with us, their makers and friends, the Robot Masters will show us the way to a bright new future!"
The crowd erupts with applause. Backstage, Blues and Roll clap right along with them. "How many times do you think he used some variation of 'future'?"
"Blues," Roll chides. Then: "…Depends if the stuff about pushing forward counts."
"I'll now be happy to answer your questions!" Dr. Light declares, addressing the crowd at large but mostly eyeing the reporters up front. Sure enough, a news drone zips forward.
"Ripot from the B&C Gazette," it announces, before launching into its preprogrammed question. "Early in your career, you built robots for the military, like your so-called Sniper Joe model. Are there any plans on using these advanced robots for covert war operations?"
Ooh. Roll winces, feeling Blues tense up beside her.
For the first time since he got on stage, the smile leaves Dr. Light's face. "No," he declares. Beneath that grandfatherly facade, something harder has appeared. When the man speaks next, it's in a tone that brooks no argument. "I am through building weapons," he insists. "I am more interested in pursuing constructive means of advancing humanity. Next question, please."
As the noise of the crowd picks up once more, the quiet scoff is barely audible—to a human. Roll, however, hears it perfectly, and when she turns around she's just in time to see Dr. Wily stalking away.
Light Labs at night is a quieter place than Light Labs during the day. This isn't to say it's ever truly quiet—most work may get done during the daylight hours, but it's not at all rare to have it continue after dark, no matter how Roll pesters her creator to get more sleep. But today was a long day, and for once, Dr. Light is satisfied with turning in early.
"What a day, wouldn't you say, Roll?"
Knowing her creator is still behind his folding screen and cant see her, Roll doesn't pause her work of hanging up his clothes before she answers. "That's for sure," she agrees, setting his lab coat up to hang beside the others. "But…was it a good day?"
"I'd say it was a resounding success," Dr. Light replies. He steps out from behind the screen fully dressed in his pajamas to give Roll a look of concern. "What do you think went wrong?"
"Oh, I don't mean—the introduction went great! It's just…that one reporter." Roll fixes the floor with a troubled look. "When do you think they're going to stop asking for weapons?"
"Never." Blues, having retrieved Dr. Light's nightly glass of water from the kitchen, enters the room with a scowl. "As long as people are people, they're gonna want to kill each other."
"Blues…" Dr. Light chides gently.
"What? It's true. Not that I can complain—I wouldn't be here otherwise."
Dr. Light takes a seat on the couch. "Blues, come here," he says, beckoning with one arm. The sullen look doesn't leave Blues's face, but he obeys, taking a seat beside his maker. Roll sits opposite him, so the two are on either side of Dr. Light.
"Is Elec Man nothing more than a generator?" the doctor asks.
"What about Cut Man? Is he just a walking pair of scissors?"
"No," Roll interrupts her brother.
"That's right," Dr. Light nods. "None of the robot masters are weapons, or even mere tools; they are individuals, each with their own thoughts and feelings. Yes, in a few days, they will be sent off to perform the tasks they were built for, but they will be doing so much more than that! They're going to be learning, exploring, making friends. They're crucial parts of the bridge between robots and humanity—and that bridge begins with you." He taps Blues on the chest, right where his access panel is hidden. Dr. Light smiles. "My boy…"
"Ugh," Blues groans, leaning away from his maker's touch, but he can't hide his smile completely. "Alright, fine, I got it. Jeez…"
"What about me?" Roll asks, scooting closer to Dr. Light with an expectant twinkle in her eye.
Dr. Light puts an arm around her. "And you, my darling girl," he replies. "Where would I be without your smile? You make sure I behave myself." Roll preens.
"It's true I needed the military's funding in order to build you," Dr. Light tells Blues. "But you have never been a weapon. You—both of you—are my children. Never forget that."
Blues nods. "Yeah, okay," he concedes, his smile faint but real. Dr. Light gives them both a squeeze.
"There we go. Now, off to bed, you too!"
The three of them climb up off the couch, and as Blues and Roll prepare to leave, Dr. Light makes for his bed. The sheets, freshly washed, are a boon after such an exhausting day.
"Good night, Dr. Light!" Roll calls, waving from her spot beside Blues in the doorway. Dr. Light waves back.
"Good night, children!" he calls. "Tomorrow is a bright new day!"
It so it was. Or at least, it would have been. But just as Light Labs goes dark for the night, someone else slips in through the shadows. There's no hesitation in his movements; he knows where he's going, and his very presence here means he's purged his heart of doubt, and regret. He makes for the room where the Robot Masters stand idle, and with practiced hands, sets to work.
Hope you enjoyed your time at the top, Tommy boy, Dr. Wily muses darkly, grinning as his plan takes shape before him. Because it's all downhill from here…
Morning dawns, and Thomas Light dreams. He dreams of robots, and of people, and of people with robots. He dreams of circuits and wires and gummy bears and gears, and he dreams about…
…about…someone shaking him?
"Snrk. Huh?" The greatest mind on earth sputters back into gear with no small amount of reluctance. That is, until his vision clears and Blues's panicked expression becomes clear. "Blues!" Dr. Light exclaims, bolting upright. "What's wrong? Is your core—"
"It's the Robot Masters!" Blues urges, cutting him off. "They're gone!"
"What?!" With speed he'd thought was long behind him, Dr. Light leaps from bed and flies down the hall with Blues hot on his heels. He flings the door to the lab's storage room open with a crash.
The room is in shambles; spare equipment sparks beneath fallen rubble, their static-choked screens blaring alerts. An entire section of the far wall has been torn away.
Dr. Light gapes at the wreckage "What…what happened?!"
"I don't know!" Blues shakes his head helplessly. "I came in this morning to check on them, only—"
"Dr. Light!!" Barreling down the hallway, Roll's shout demands their attention. "Dr. Light, you need to see the news right now!!"
Destruction. Devistation. Fear and suffering. None of them can believe his eyes; none of them can look away.
"…Li with Channel 8 News," the anchor continues, her voice clipped and professional. "We continue our coverage of a sudden robot attack downtown."
The screen changes, once again showing live footage of…of…It can't really be Cut Man, can it? That robot on the screen hurling blades into buildings, that's not the robot they built, Roll's first big project, the one she was so proud of. Right?
"As you can see, the robots are causing massive damage and possess powers unlike anything we've ever seen."
And that one pitching explosives at people—delicate human beings, who can't be rebuilt if they're torn apart—there's just no way that's Bomb Man!
"What's worse," the anchor continues, each word a fresh slap in the face, "is that nothing seems able to subdue them. The police were quickly outmatched this morning, and the army has already been defeated."
All of them…their robots…their brothers! Roll wants to look away, to cover her eyes, to scream. This is a nightmare, she thinks, almost unconsciously.
"So far, no one has claimed—ZZT—ibiltiy, nor—VTT—demands—"
When the spazzing screen finally gives out, Roll's first thought is that whatever they're about to see can't possibly be the worse than what's already been shown. What could be more horrifying, more painful, than the sight of her own family wreaking such havoc?
And then the picture returns, and Roll gets her answer.
"WHA-HA-HA-HA!" Dr. Wily bellows, his face now dominating the screen. He looks just the same as he did yesterday, only now there's a manic gleam in his eye Roll's never seen before. It makes his smile, already so much toothier than she's used to, all the more unnerving. "Do not attempt to look away, fools!" he roars. "Dr. Albert W. Wily controls the airwaves now, and soon, THE WORLD!"
"No doubt you've seen my Robot Masters at work! Built by my genius, they are unstoppable! Of course, all this violence can be avoided…all I desire is COMPLETE and IMMEDIATE surrender from all world leaders and to be recognized as the greatest genius in the history of mankind!"
Dr. Wily's shrill laugh echoes off the walls and bounces back at them, making the space feel even more enclosed. Dr. Light takes a step back, looking pale. "Whoa!" Blues jumps a bit at his creator wobbles on his feet. "Hey, hey, sit down."
"Th-thank you, Blues. Roll…turn…turn it off, please?"
Roll doesn't need to be asked twice; with more force than strictly necessary, she hits the button, cutting Dr. Wily off mid-way through a rant about how this morning will just be a TASTE—
Collapsed in his plush armchair, Dr. Light looks like he's aged a decade. Blues hovers by him. "Hey," he asks. "You okay?"
"That horrible, awful man!" Roll's fury can hardly be contained in her small form—her shoulders shake with it, teeth grit with it, everything wound tight enough to snap. "How could he do this?! How?!"
"I don't know," Dr. Light admits, although it seems to pain him. "Perhaps…perhaps I should call him…perhaps he can be reasoned with."
But Blues shakes his head. "Not gonna happen," he counters, face grim. "You know how he gets—if he's in this deep, talking’s not gonna bring him back."
Dr. Light groans. "I know," he agrees.
"It'll be okay!" Roll urges, trying to put on a happier face. "You'll see—everybody knows Dr. Wily's behind it now, so they'll stop him!"
But her creator shakes his head. "No," he tells her. "No, they won't." Suddenly, he leans forward in his seat, as though a surge of energy has just shot through him. His eyes are wild as he makes broad, swift gestures. "We built the Robot Masters to set the new standard!" he cries. "There is literally nothing that can stand up to them! Nobody…" He drops his head into his hands, muffling his final words. "Nobody can stop them now."
Silence falls over the trio. Dr. Light's tears fall noiselessly, spilling through his fingers and into his lap. Roll, overcome, clings to his side, her own vision blurring. What do we do? she wonders, feeling helpless and hating it. What can we do?
Roll looks up, and notices Dr. Light doing the same. Together, they stare at Blues.
"…Look," he elaborates. "It's bad out there right now. There's no sugar coating it. But falling to pieces isn't going to help." His tone is different from what Roll is used to. He sounds…older, she supposes. More mature; more resigned. She doesn't think she likes it.
"There are six highly advanced robots out there, hurting humans," he tells them. "It's clear that nothing the city can throw at them will even slow them down. What we need to stand up to them is another robot."
"Blues…" Dr. Light breathes. "What are you saying?"
Blues puts his hand on his chest, right over his control panel. "Send me," he says. "I've got the software, the hardware, and the experience. If you reinstall the Mega Buster, I can take them down and keep anyone else from getting hurt."
Roll can hardly believe her ears. Blues, out there? Fighting? Alone? She can't even imagine it—she doesn't want to imagine it.
"But, Blues," Dr. Light protests. "Even if I did send you out there, what about your core? the last time you used it, you nearly…" He swallows. "Buster or no, you wouldn't be able to fight unless I replaced it."
No! No! No, no, no, no! Roll wants to cover her ears, to scream and stomp her feet and cry. This can't be happening! This isn't happening!! It's all just a dream, a horrible, awful dream that she can't wake up from no matter how hard she tries. Who cares if robots don't have dreams?! What else could this possibly be, if not a nightmare?
Blues, for his part, looks as though he's been struck. He's frozen, staring blankly at his creator. Roll know him, though—knows him well enough to know that moments from now, his horror and fear will give way to his ridiculous sense of duty, and he will say yes.
And then what? Will the brother she knows be gone forever, his personality undone? She can't bear the thought—she'd rather be dismantled herself. And even if that doesn't come to pass, her only comfort will be knowing that it is him out there, alone, outnumbered, at risk of just one shot shutting him down forever.
Roll screws her eyes shut. That can't happen. That won't happen. She won't let it.
"If…if that's the only way," Blues grimaces. "Then—"
Now it's Blues's turn to stare. Roll takes care not to meet his eyes when she turns to Dr. Light. "I'm based on Blues's design," she reminds him. "Maybe I'm compatible with the Buster? And upgrading my core doesn't have a chance of erasing my personality—my coding's more stable than his!"
Now it's her turn to put her hand on her chest. She locks eyes with her creator, willing him not to turn away. "Send me instead."
"No!" Blues protests. "Dr. Light, that's crazy! She's just a house bot, she'd get destroyed out there!"
"Not if you upgrade me!" Roll counters. "Build me armor, install a targeting system, make me able to fight! It wouldn't even take that long."
Dr. Light's voice is quiet, but firm. He's not shaking anymore; in fact, an otherworldly stillness seems to have settled over him. Roll finds herself standing a little bit straighter.
Dr. Light looks down at her, something unreadable in his eyes. It looks like terror; it feels like resignation. "Roll," he intones. "My sweet girl. I wish I could take you and your brother away somewhere, hide you both from the world and its cruelty. But…you are braver than I am. Better than I am. Both of you."
Blues stares. "Dr. Light…"
"Something has to be done. And as much as it pains me to say it, only you can do it." Dr. Light smiles, but it's a pained thing. "I never wanted this for you," he tells Roll. "But I couldn't possibly be prouder. Come—let's make sure you're battle-ready."
Blues looks ready to explode. Teeth grit, fists clenched, he looks like he wants to hit something. "You can't be serious!" he shouts. "This is insane! You expect me to stand around and watch while you send her off to die?!"
"No! Dr. Light, you can't do this! Replace my core, do whatever you need to—I'm the one who has to do this!"
"Says who?!" Roll protests, tears in her eyes. "Don't you get it? If you get that surgery, that's it! You won't…you'll be…" She squeezes her eyes shut. "I won't let you!"
"Well, I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed playing hero!"
"Playing? That's what you think this is?!"
"That's how you're treating it! You have no idea what you're agreeing to."
"I'm trying to protect you!"
"I don't need your protection!"
Blues's roar echoes in the sudden stillness. Shoulders shaking, head bowed, he grits his teeth against the tears that threaten to overtake him. "I know I'm defective," he croaks. "I know I'm not good for much besides helping out around the house. But I'm the older one." He blinks hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm supposed to keep you safe. If I can't do anything else, I want to do that. So please…" he sniffs, a few tears snaking down his cheeks. "Let me do this, at least."
"Blues…" Dr. Light stares, his arms half outstretched. Before he can say or do anything, hower, Roll steps forward.
"Hey," she says. Blues looks up, his watery eyes meeting hers. She takes his hand. "You're never not gonna be my big brother. You know that, right?"
Blues's gaze falls. Roll gives his hand a squeeze.
"I know you're scared for me. I'm scared too. But you said it yourself: people are getting hurt, and we're the only ones who can help. And I know you'd be out there fighting to protect them right now if you could." Roll smiles. "You're not defective, and you're not failing me or anyone if that's what you think. If I don't need protection, it's because you taught me how to take care of myself. You showed me how to have courage," she tells him. "Now let me make you proud."
Dr. Light chokes up; Blues ducks his head. "…Okay," he manages, voice thick. "Okay."
Dr. Light pulls them both into a tight hug. Roll hugs him back, and after a moment, so does Blues. "We're gonna arm you to the teeth," Blues promises his sister. "You're gonna be so souped up they won't even recognize you."
"He's right," Dr. Light agrees. He pulls back and looks her over. "You cannot go as you are; I built you to help around the house and lab. But I can make sure you're prepared…"
The next several hours pass in blur. Plans are drawn; armor is built; weapons are installed. Roll's very core is changed, upgraded to support the demands of her new Mega Buster. Her brother and father work themselves to the bone preparing her, giving her everything she needs to win. Their crowning achievement, the copy chip, integrates flawlessly.
"I built you as Roll, after my love for music," Dr. Light declares as he puts a helmet on her head. Blues looks on, his expression pained but proud. "You are something very different now."
“Just for now,” Roll promises. Dr. Light nods; Blues cracks a smile.
“Well,” he sighs. “Go get ‘em!”
