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Remodelling is done with drills, and needles, and saws. I've seen it. I've nearly been taken by the same damn thing that took him. No surgeries, and if you get anything like anywhere NEAR him, don't think I'll hesitate.
[ He bares his teeth, even though it can't be seen. Over-reacting, maybe. But he has to protect his brother. ]
You're a therapist, right? Then do your therapy. We'll start with our sports.
Understood, Arm. We will proceed with a new mission for him. Training... We shall have to name a reason to train with a soccar ball. But he will listen easier when given it as an order.
Perhaps foot cordination. Something akin to that.
He wants to understand.
He doesn't know where he went wrong.
'Murder a child.'
'I don't want to see you.'
The soldier shies away from the recent memories even as he knocks twice on the door to Commander Rung's office and waits.
He steps away from the door and pulls something from storage. A canister of oil. Always on hand now that Gold Foot, "MG" is in his care.
He finally speaks. "Let's start with a debriefing." Keep it technical but casual.
Contained.
These walls are safe.
"All duties were attended to as required. I was not needed with Captain, Mach Windy was busy, and Quickman was otherwise occupied. I was going to make another round of observations as sitting in my quarters was... stifling." He was struggling some, now, to reach for the words he needed. He knows what words he could use, but he does not want to use them.
Does not want to anger another higher ranking officer.
"Approximately forty-five minutes ago, a new member of the R2 announced themselves to the ship at large via video call. Rock Light, alias Megaman. Megaman is known enemy of Quickman, and had been flagged for elimination through shared mission with Quickman. I moved to act according to mission details: eliminate at all costs, while following self defense protocols. I feared for Quickman's safety and wished to eliminate the threat before harm could come to my squadmate."
He does not fidget, though it is a near thing. "Captain stepped me from completing the mission, and overrode the orders. He... does not wish to see me again. I misunderstood orders, but do not understand... the mission details did not say that Megaman was a new build. The coding-- My coding--" He makes a quiet, frustrated sound. The words are escaping him. "Why does the age of a target matter?"
Rung takes a seat on the chair just to the opposite end of the couch. "Given the issue that this Megaman is a new build, you must consider. Do you want the life of someone's who's barely started on your hands."
He folds his hands there in his chair. "Back in the days of our Cybertronian war, many commanding officers would create Made To Order soldiers. Young souls put in storage only to find life's first meeting on the battlefield."
"Many died, many killed. Many were so broken they...." He shakes his head. "I understand you want to follow orders, but many learned that this action was the wrong one. This action was a stain on us all."
"Your captain, he only wanted to spare you the guilt when it eventually finds you. He was scared, and you're confused."
We'll make it work, either way.
MG takes the oil on reflex, curling his fingers around the cannister like it's a lifeline. He lowers his optics, staring down at it as Commander Rung speaks.
Made to Order...
Was that not what all soldiers were?
"Yes, sir. Quickman issued the mission."
He spins the oil between his hands, the motion slow and controlled as his thoughts race with no tangible coherency.
"Commander... I do not understand. I... This model is only weeks old. Soldiers are not built with the intention of lasting. Not foot soldiers." Not his model. Artillery and heavy combat were built with the idea that they would go down quick but at least they would take down a group of enemies with them.
"I... Do not believe I understand age."
He opens it and places pieces around.
"Lets consider something. As you say, you don't understand Age. So you do not understand how long you've existed either?" Rung asks. Setting the toy soldiers about the field.
"How long do you think you've existed for. MG?" He holds holds a finger over one of the toy soldiers. "A few weeks? A decade or two?"
"This other is only a few weeks. That means he does not even have proper training... is that right? Neither did the MTO's we didn't even train them. Gave them simple commands, shoved a gun in their hand and hoped." Rung says as he knocks over the toy.
His face solemn. "Quick is only a just the same isn't he. He has existed only a small number. A small life. So easily snuffed... you wanted to protect him. But was the 'target' an actual threat at that time?"
Not made for war? He is a soldier. He is built for battle. Made to be a weapon. Sharpened into a blade and stuffed full of bullets and bombs until he could take out a platoon on his own.
MG is made for war. That much he is certain of.
His mouth twists in discomfort, disbelief. It's hard for him to wrap his mind around. It's hard for him to think beyond the lines of code and that is frustrating because he knows he knows he used to be able to--
To what?
The knowledge is out of reach, just out of sight like so many things.
He blinks and looks up to stare at the model ship, watching as the pieces move. "I... This build is less than a month old. If this frame is older, I do not have memories of it. Faulty products are reformatted and repaired or scrapped entirely depending on cost effectiveness. We do not wish to cause undue stress to our owners over rebuild fees."
He reaches out to put the figure upright again, his mouth pursed in a thin line. Quickman was young. Megaman was young. He was... Starting to get it. Maybe. "The target was not a threat," he says slowly, "the target was... Playing?"
He looks all the way up at Rung, and there is such a dark pool of confusion in his optics. "Commander, why would orders be issued to eliminate a non-threat?"
He loves them all. Even if they are not his... not... his. Oh how silly, why would his mind think such a thing? He must have meant not his own species. Not his own.... Oh its just silly and he's only full of emotion is all.
Yes... yes that must be it... but this love he feels. The Agape. Charity. A love so stronge it hurts his chest as it glows for something.
"I do not think at all that Quick meant anything wrong nor lied. I think its a programing issue." Rung states as he picks back up the model and holds it in a tender hand. His smile so soft... so pure.
"Perhaps, it is the fault of his creator. Perhaps it was something ordained in his own birth. To see this child at play as something to crush." Rung folds his fingers firm on the toy and loosens for emphasis.
"It is not your or Quick's fault. It never was. The world can be kinder to you all. We just have to fix it." Rung smiles at him as he places the toy back up right. Amongst the other toys. Where he always belonged.
"I think, you will be forgiven. Your captain does not hate you. Nor will I ever. I think in the end. We learn from this process and... everything will work out in the end." It has to.
He... he wishes he was able to fix everything. He puts so much on his shoulder and wonders... where did his love come from?
MG frowns again, shifting in his seat. There is something that still bothers him. Something... Something important but just out of reach.
"How do I know if I am learning?"
He tightens his hold around the oil can again, hiding the way his fingers shake. "Captain said he didn't want to see me until I could explain why. I... I don't know why. I don't know--"
He almost wishes he were hated. At least that was something he understood how to handle.
"I--"
Oh.
He was afraid.
He was afraid of losing his ani-- his captain.
"Commander... I..." He furrows his brows and looks down. "Captain calls me Gold Foot. I know that name but it is not my name. I want... I want to remember. I want to know why Mach Windy and Captain know me as something else. I want to know why a non-combatant is made into a soldier. I..."
He didn't want to be a soldier anymore.
He didn't know how to be anything else.
"I want to know who Gold Foot is."
"We will find out who Gold Foot is," Rung states, setting gentle palm on his shoulder. "He will not be beyond your understanding, but the process is a long one. But this is what I'm here for, I will help you for as long as I am allowed to."
His voice is benevolent, his voice echoes. His chest glows with an ache. A want to make something. To cure something. To protect and bundle this soul into it so nothing will hurt him.
But that is not possible in any way. There is only the physcial realm he can start to change the world with. There is no Gods dead or alive that can change the world so drastically.
[ He smiles amicably as Rung pushes himself off the floor and once he's steady enough reaches over to hang a mini figure precariously on the edge of one of the therapist's impressive eyebrows. A splendid place for one if you ask him. ]
The game is over far too quickly if you break your toys, wouldn't you agree?
STill you could of asked... [ What careful movements as Rung tries to lift one hand to pluck the toy off himself. Keeping eyebrows still and.... they furrow impulsively as rung falls to the ground luckly able to catch the toy without damaging it. ]
Oh goodness that was close
MG takes a vent that stutters, his very core aching. It's never hurt like that before. His head has hurt, yes, but not... not his chest, his circuits, not like this. He doesn't...
He leans into the touch on his shoulder. His fingers shake around the can. He swallows through the sudden lump in his throat that he struggles to vent around and closes his optics, dropping his visor to hide the moment of vulnerability. It doesn't matter how much he trusts the Commander.
No one wants to see a soldier show weakness.
"Thank you," he says, voice soft. A little shaky. There is little he can do about it. He doesn't know where to start with learning who Gold Foot is, but he doesn't know how to ask either. He already feels... ragged. Like there were drills and saws coming down cuts running through him.
"Commander... Captain and Megaman both reacted poorly when I mentioned reformats. They are--were--common practice on foot soldiers prior. Why would they react so?"
"It's not something he wants to see a repeat of, I also would be upset to lose what progress we've made. You're a dutiful person, you follow your job and I see peeks of your personality slip through." He smiles taking off his glasses.
"If I was reformated, if I lost who I was and had to restart from scratch. What would you do with that intel? Would you try to keep what little bit of me was left? What of Quick, or Captain Gold Arm?"
"Someone before?" He looks up, looking at Rung from the corners of his optics. Gold Foot. Of course. He knew that, on some level. The Captain had told him as much. He was Gold Foot before he was MG, before he was a soldier, but...
What makes a person?
He has no memories of this Gold Foot. He barely knows how he knows Windy. He calls Captain "aniki" because it feels right and not because he remembers the Captain being a brother. He is MG, foot soldier, serial number MG-02-G015. He has gone under the drills three times does not know who Gold Foot is.
"If the owners reformatted you, or Quick, or Captain... they had reason." Even as he says it it's clear to see he doesn't believe it. It is simply the coding that makes him say it. His mouth twists and his fingers tighten around the oil can, threatening to crush it. "But..." He pauses and lifts his head, looking straight at Rung through his visor. "You do not have an owner. There... there are no owners here. So... so reformatting would not be performed even for the most grievous of crimes, would it?"
"Your wrongs will have different consequences. There is the brig for those who hurt others, and you are lucky I will be vouching for you and that Megaman was not killed." He sighs. "I can only protect you so much."
A brig... A prison. His internal search brings that back. How strange to think of locking someone up instead of simply--
"You don't deactivate them?"
(He doesn't know that it's different for them. An AI can be turned on again so long as the chip remains intact.)
"I... Would not like imprisonment. Thank you. Captain has given very strict orders on when weapon use is acceptable. I do not believe my coding will force me into it now."
'Never act like this again.'
"I..."
'Sit in the room and LEARN-'
'I don't want to see you.'
Everyone wanted Gold Foot back but...
"Commander? If... If I remember Gold Foot, if I'm him... What happens to me?"
He smiles holding his glasses now in a hand. The glisten of his optics as he wipes them quickly to put them back on.
"If it means anything, I like you MG. If it means anything at all." He feels his voice actually crack. Oh. Oh, that's not... He's not allowed to have favorites he's not allowed to love them like this. Not Skids, not MG, not any of them.
"I want you to be your best self. That's all I ever want for any of you children." What a painful way to say it. What a strange way to say it.
"You are a good soldier, a good mech. You will not be imprisoned and you will not be deactivated." He feels like he's over stepping. He rubs under his glasses again. "Oh, how embarassing. I've sprung a leak it seems." He lies through his tears.
"Would you like another canister of oil?" His voice quivers.
For the first time in his recent functioning, the functioning that he can remember, MG does not want to forget or lose himself. He had asked to retain some memories upon a reformat because they... Were dear to him. He did not want to lose them.
He didn't want to lose himself.
He wants to know who Gold Foot is but he wants to exist too.
"I don't want to disappear."
Drills and saws. Bright lights in his optics. Aniki he's scared. Aniki
please Aniki Aniki ani--
"Captain cries some times," he says softly, offering that information delicately. "He says it's okay to do."
"MG-02-G011. Faulty. Rebellious. Reprogram it. You said this used to be
one of the Gold Bros? Ha. Shame you got this one and not the eldest. That
one had potential."
Aniki please he's so scared.
"I... Haven't finished this one. I'm sorry."
"You neednt apologize to me for not finishing it. And thank you, your care is welcomed." He lets go and try stays there at the floor.
"MG," he starts. "MG they say memory is a powerful thing. So if Gold Foot ever does return. I will keep your memory with me. I... Will tell Gold Foot how wonderful you are. I won't let you die."
"You are just as important. You are not the lesser side. You exist and I'll make sure it's remembered." Then he pats the soldier's knee.
"But, that is an if he comes back. And we can worry about that later. For now, you exist, you are the one living and get to experiance learning and life."
"And I'm glad to see you grow."
For now he exists. He exists. He exists and Rung is happy he is here.
MG is abruptly startled by the fact he's crying. He can't recall crying before, but his frame knows the motions. The way his shoulders hitch and his vents catch and his optics short out in a brief wave of static.
He tries to say thank you, because Aniki taught him to, but the words are stuck in his throat. Instead, instead, he puts his hands to his face to hide it. It is not a soldier sitting in the chair now, but a small, lost little mech that doesn't know any better.
He is less than two months old after his most recent reformat.
He is scared.
He was following orders.
His target wasn't a threat.
How scared was his target?
How scared had Windy been?
Why would they make his friend his target? Windy was his friend why had he been a target?
Why was Megaman a target for Quick?
'Owner wanted him.'
"I-- I'm sorry," he gasps, scrubbing at his face. The oil can is abandoned now at his side. "I-- I don't--"
There is a shrieking void inside of his coding that wants to swallow him alive.
Rung is glad that MG is here.
He bends over his knees and he sobs.
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