I'm Not the Breakman

Indie semi-selective Megaman RP blog

Featuring Red, a Protoman based off the albums by The Megas. Penned by Narsh. Follow back from narsh-potatoes. OC and Crossover friendly!

Please read rules and about before interacting!

The sight for a weapon. It is not a regular item. It feels enchanted. The base seems malleable, like it can be fitted to any barrel, any crossbow, any projectile. You have the impression that if used, that shot will aim true every time.

There is a stone that glows softly, blue. It feels like a friend, a watchful eye. If you pay attention to it, it amplifies like a compass, will lead you anywhere, to anyONE you wish to find.

Lastly, a vial of red liquid. "For emergencies," is written in neat handwriting on a tiny tag around the bottle's neck. Hopefully it is never needed.

(If my muse was a deity, what offerings would you leave at their shrine?)

The first gift was found in one of his frequent stakeout positions.

At first, he figured it must have been one of his own. Maybe he forgot to take it with him one of these nights and Andreus placed it below the ledge, tucked just out of sight where only intended eyes would find it again.

Closer inspection revealed it to be anything but. Even before he laid his hands on it, the buzz of its magic ticked off his senses, rolling over him in gentle waves. Handling it sent a phantom tingling through his fingertips and he had to occasionally rub the sensation away. It clicked into his rifle easily and using it was... more natural than natural. The clarity it gave his aim–his focus–was incredible. Whoever gifted it knew their stuff. He resolved to show Kalinka the next time he got a chance. She was sure to get a kick out of it.

=====

The second found him in dishevelment and exhaustion.

Weeks of mysteries, frustrations, dead ends, and encroaching hopelessness poured from his body and from those of his friends and comrades. A friend had gone missing and, despite being good at what he thought he was good at, he was utterly useless. All threads they followed lead to cut cords and dead ends, and the more they looked, the more it seemed like they were boxed in with no clues. It was starting to take its toll. Not just on him, but on all of them.

He didn't feel tired in the same way that he used to, but still, he collapsed all the same into a chair in his private quarters. He leaned forward, rubbing at his eyes with his elbows on his knees. His room had gotten especially messy, and his gear had gone somewhat neglected through the fuss. He hadn't had time nor ability to focus and prepare like he was normally able to. None of them could afford to slow down.

After a moment, he paused, noticing a strange weight in his left breast pocket that hadn't been there before. The small stone contained within shown dimly with a blue light, and while it was unknown to him, it wasn't unwelcome. It's aura was rather strong, but he must've been too caught up in everything else to take notice of it at all. He eyed it carefully, trying to piece together what he was feeling.

Immediately its power washed over him. In an instant, his breathing hastened and he could sense far beyond what he was normally capable of. Each signal around and beyond him was crystal clear in his mind and with each shift of his attention to specific people, he felt a strong tug leading him toward them. His mind suddenly alight, he studied the stone carefully, flipping the smooth blue surface over in his palm. It felt familiar. It felt safe. It felt almost like...

He leapt to his feet, feeling the adrenaline rush through his veins. He needed to find Andreus, and fast. This could be the lucky break they were looking for.

=====

The final gift was found quietly and without fanfare.

For this, River was grateful, for the message attached was not exactly a reassuring one. Not even to mention what he sensed; the energy it exuded was not one he had ever felt before, but whatever it was was more potent and powerful than he could bring himself to fully understand.

The small vial was tucked alongside his gear, as if it was always meant to be there. As if it were a trusted weapon. As if it were a loyal ally. I will be true, it seemed to say. It was gift from a friend, he knew it almost instantly.

"For emergencies", the tag read.

…Grass? The fuck did that mean? Well, regardless of what Red meant, Blues shakes his head.

…Which is a mistake, because even that makes him feel like he’s going to violently fall out of his seat.

“….Can’t,” is what he manages out.

Red nods, a lethargic motion that ends up swaying his whole body instead of just his head. He pauses to let the physical swaying stop, and then pauses again to let the swaying in his head stop. When it doesn’t, he shoots a thumb over his shoulder.

“.. ‘m’onna...lay,” he mumbles. Those weren’t really words, but he seemed to think he was being coherent. “Lay ‘n.. grass.” With that, he takes a stumbling leave.... to go lay in grass.

Well fuck you too, Red, because he’s taking that shot anyway. Horrible decision, clearly, given how he drops his head with a groan, leaning heavily on the table for several solid seconds.

…Guh.

It almost seems like he’s not going to respond at all, but then,

“…..Shadow, who else?” eventually comes the muffled, bleary response.

Someone should really stop him now.

Shots taken: 6

Red is quiet for a long moment. “................ ’m not at liberty to answer that question, actually.” Red pours another shot and takes it. He would actually rather die again than admit it.

Red gets up from his seat, an action he very quickly seems to regret, as he stumbles and leans incredibly heavily onto the table. Seems that swirl of a buzz has taken itself somewhere else. “............ ‘m ‘onna...” He mumbles. Then a pause before he turns to Blues in a question. He really wanted to lay in some grass right now, he wanted to ask if Blues wanted to come with.

However, the question that comes out is: “... Grass..?”

“Mm…?” Blues finally turns his head to peek at Red, face flushed from how much alcohol he’s consumed.

It takes him… a bit to process Red’s words, but once he does he gives a half nod. “Me too.” Not a lie; Wily had been the one to install his buster and battle protocol, too.

Wily…

Not for the first time tonight, his thoughts were slowly drawn back to the doctor’s bodyguard. He’d been avoiding him since…

One hand came up to his chest to meet an empty pocket. Ah, that was right… he’d left the little one with Tango tonight. Sure, they’d exchanged… presents, but there’d been no contact between them otherwise. Not even earlier when he’d brought Sam down from the shelf Shadow had placed her on; he’d made a point to not show up until after Shadow had left.

What was he doing now? Had he gotten dragged into this game too?

Even with Red next to him, Blues can’t ignore the sudden loneliness welling dully in his core and he slumps against the table, head buried in his arms. “…Wanna kiss him so bad.”

...

..........

..........Huh?

Wanna kiss who? Huh? The first thing to come to his mind to fill that gap was........ Red didn’t even want to entertain the thought. They were just talking about Doctor Wily. What the hell was Blues saying? Surely not, please, he’s begging, surely not.

“..................”

No... He must be talking about someone else. There’s no way...

"I have a question for you? Is this yours?"

An empty pie tin was tossed on the table. On the back in marker was a 'B)'.

Let’s play a drinking game! (Still accepting!)

...Triage was very clever. Very clever indeed.

There was a smile on his lips as he watched the pie tin clatter to a rest on the table. Oh he recognized it alright, but there was no way he was going to give that away. Red takes the glass in hand, his expression unchanging, as he takes the shot.

Blues didn’t respond even to the heavy hand slapping onto his shoulder, and was silent even as Red spoke, stopped, struggled to find his words, and spoke again.

He let the silence resume for a moment before a soft huff and what might be a smile forms on his face. He doesn’t voice the rush of bleak gratitude he suddenly feels to not be alone in the moment. “I like the opportunity to feel pretty,” he murmurs instead. Another slight pause.

“I was almost a girl. I nearly settled on it as a newbuild. Th’ flexibility in my clothing is… nice.”

There, that was better. At least he thinks so anyways. “One of us has to. It’s not in my... uh, vocabulary to feel ‘pretty’,” he says with a snort. It had been a long time since he was even properly clean.

“Yeah? ‘m glad you have the flexibility.” He suddenly remembers the hand on Blues’ shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before dropping it.

..... There was a lot that was surfacing right now. Too much he didn’t want to think about. But he knew that train of thought might not lead him down the best of roads if he kept drinking. There was a pause before the words finally settled in his head.

...Ah.

Normally, in situations like these, Red would be inclined to offer comfort, letting Blues speak on the matter as much as he wanted. Letting the prototype know that Red was there for him. And while the desire to give comfort was ever present, these were not exactly normal circumstances. Red was a little too buzzed to do and say exactly as he wanted.

There’s a long pause, Red fighting through a short wave of fuzziness before a hand lands on Blues’ shoulder (with perhaps a tad more force than intended). If Blues were to look up, he would see Red momentarily start mouthing a number of different words before his mouth finally closes. He taps the table absentmindedly.

He didn’t have the right state of mind to say the right things. There wasn’t exactly a ‘right’ thing to say to that anyways. “Fuck,” he says as if he’s saying something comforting. A pause. “I think I said that out loud.”

He watches the shot glass between the two of them a second before he finds his voice again with some delay.