REGGAE

“It’s not nice to talk about yourself like that, Reggae.”

He flew around Metal, just out of reach of being grabbed. “IT’S A GOOD THING THAT YOU’RE WILY’S CLASS PET CONSIDERING HE TALKS SO MUCH YOU DON’T GET TO HAVE A WORD IN! HE’S DOING SOMETHING RIGHT FOR ONCE!”

“Verdammt. I was enjoying the quiet.”

WHERE AR ETHE MANNERS

“Uh… Sure, okay. W… Whatever you want, Reggae. Though you could’ve fooled me– With all that yelling, it’s easy to assume you’re pretty, um… Pissed off. So, um… What brings you out here? I imagine the fortress is pretty far away…”

“I CAME OUT HERE TO CONGRATULATE YOU. I DID THAT. NOW WHAT?” As he asked his question, he flew up and sat on Rock’s helmet, getting comfortable.

“Look who’s talking.” He replies sourly, “Now go on and shoo, before I actually go throw all of your things out.”

Reggae made a noise akin to laughter. “YOU DON’T GET SARCASM? WOW. AND HERE I THOUGHT THE OLD MAN WASN’T THAT STUPID.” He got even closer to Metal’s face. “YOU’LL THROW OUT ALL OF MY BIRD BELONGINGS? THAT I CAN GET BACK BECAUSE I’M A BIRD?”

Considering she was used to Beat doing this sometimes Kalinka only sighed. Her hat apparently made a good nest for robot birds. Still she had summer reading to do and she couldn’t really do it with Reggae on her head. Taking her hat off she placed it down next to her and continued reading. Hopefully she’d get some done before the annoying bird robot started talking.

As soon as she set her hat down, Reggae said, “IF YOU DON’T PUT ME BACK ON YOUR HEAD HAT AND ALL I’M GOING TO SCREAM PERPETUALLY.”

“Um… That’s okay, Reggae! You can call me Mega Man if you want! So… Where did you come from? You’re not lost, are you?”

He flapped his wings a few times before settling down. “WILY’S FORTRESS, WHERE ELSE? IF I WAS LOST I WOULD BE PISSED OFF, PROBABLY.”

 “Oh, there’s a bird around…?”

“WOW YOU HAVE SUCH A POTTYMOUTH. YOU SHOULD BE DAMN ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, SCHEISSELORD.”

Reggae’s back, isn’t he?”

“I, um… Thank you?” He crouches down to get a better look at the little guy. “What’s your name, birdie?”

“REGGAE.” He replied, ruffling his wings. “I KNOW YOUR REAL NAME IS ROCK BUT I’M NOT GOING TO USE THAT.”

Dr. Wily starts swatting at the robotic bird, trying to shoo him off. “Would you go bother someone else?! I’m busy!”

“WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER MY QUESTION? I’LL LEAVE IF YOU DO. OTHERWISE I’M GOING TO TAKE WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU’RE WORKING ON.”

“O-Okay?”

“FIGHT ME OR DIE, PRETTY BOY.”

Did this bird just scream at him that the end is near?