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Chapter 4- Reparations

It turned out the laboratory that Dr. Torres operated out of was his own little piece of heaven located adjacently to a robotic junkyard. Discarded parts of robots formerly functioning would find themselves in this metallic wasteland. On some level it might seem like crude, but it was a very ingenious if not shameless method of having access to several resources. Granted, the doctor was only confined to whatever arrived in the junkyard, but it didn't look like the doctor had the financial capabilities of getting whatever he wanted, and this method was definitely economically sound.

Protoman continued to sift through the many metal pieces, in his particular case, his options were limited. Anything that wasn't titanium couldn't be used. His body was built with titanium, a very durable substance. Although the doctor did his best to repair Protoman's arm, he had ended up using some steel in order to hasten the repair process. Unlike steel, titanium was a metal not so easily found in a junkyard. However there were exceptions, and he capitalized upon them.

The doctor was right about Protoman's memory. In the past thirty-six hours his fragmented memory began piecing itself together. In fact it had progressed to the point which he left confident enough to attempt to fully repair his damaged arm. His natural life had only consisted of a few days, so there weren't many of those memories to try and recall. What stood out in his mind most of all were the two towering figures that he remembered towering over him as he subconsiously witnessed his own construction.

Little by little he began to recreate the scenery. One of them was a big round old guy with a fluffly white beard consuming most of his face. He was pretty sure that was Dr. Light. The second man was another old man named Dr. Wily. In contrast to his counterpart he was balding, and gray-haired, with a jagged razor-like beard. What Protoman recalled most of all was the thick accent that tore through the air.

There was the option to go back to the two doctors that had created him, but such a decision could definitely create problems. First off, he didn't even remember the location of his birthplace. Unfortunately taking a mental note to actually remember where he was had not been a priority for him at the time. Secondly, he was still wary to bring himself to anyone at the moment. His meeting with Dr. Torres was that of unwanted necessity. What his creators wanted with him he had no idea, as far as he knew, they were the responsible for the two robots that tried to destroy or recollect him, perhaps even both.

But for now his next step wasn't what was important, and getting all sucked up in anxiety would accomplish nothing. Protoman had to deal with the task at hand, which was repairing himself. With the necessary parts all gathered, he exited the robotic disposal area, and headed back to his temporary place of residence. Personally he wanted to make it as temporary as possible.

xxxx

It was clear as day that the friction had already been placed in between the two. Protoman's responses and psyche was so umistakibly human, untrusting, reserved, and paranoid. But with Torres playing the role of the kind polite old man, it gave no reason for Protoman to hold any more suspicions he already had. In fact his act held up beautifully. If he weren't such a brilliant robotic engineer, he would have tried his hand at the stage.

A day had passed since the doctor had first met Protman. Torres had been quick to get to work on Protoman right when he returned to his laboratory. Getting Protoman's arm functioning again proved to be relatively easy. The more important, more difficult task that needed to be completed was the collection of Protoman's data before he came to. The great haste that Torres worked in allowed him to collect information he needed to continue his work with time to spare. For the moment things were continuing according to plan. However that didn't leave the doctor without a very pleasant surprise. When he began to repair Protoman's damaged arm, he came upon the most remarkable device that even he had to credit the red android's creator. While It was definitely something that couldn't be overlooked, he had show patience. There was too much to be done to be diverted.

Protoman was in the junkyard, searching for the proper pieces to repair his arm. At that point the second part of the doctor's overall project was underway. The red helmet was the most important part of his project, the key that would tie everything together. But the longer he worked on it, more and more problems resulted. What Torres hadn't counted on was the difficulty in constructing the compatibility between the helmet and Protoman. Holding the round metallic object in his hands, he knew he had fallen behind is schedule. On top of that, he sensed the restlessness in the red android. His human tendencies were exponentially growing.

He picked up his plasma cannon, and began to dissassemble it. The work and augmentations wouldn't take long, but there would be no telling his measures would be accurate. With no other choice left, Torres had to take a risk in losing everything he worked to acquire. Moments later his ears detected heavy footsteps approaching, he quickly fumbled his weapon aside and, and continued to work on his helmet.

xxxx

Dr. Torres had been working on a new project himself. As far as he could tell it was merely a helmet in the color of red, with the a white outline on the rim of the forehead. On the end of the white tip of the helmet resided a very translucent black piece of durable plastic. Whatever else it was, Protoman didn't bother to ask. Both of them were occupppied with their own tasks, so there was no need to get all nosy in each other's business. He had grown more trustworthy of Torres, however Protoman still kept up his walls.

"I hope you were able to find everything you need."

"There's enough material around here to repair me five times over." Protoman held a large container filled with assorted robotic parts.

"Yes, as humble as this place may be, it should have everything you require." There was slight shame in his expression.

"There's nothing wrong with this place. As if it were my concern to begin with." The engineer then smiled at Protoman in appreciation.

"This should be enough. I'm going to have to borrow that room over there for a little while."

"Feel free. But do are you sure you're ready to go through repairing yourself?" Protoman shrugged his shoulders, but didn't seem to be concerned with the question.

"The fragments in my memory are starting to come together. I think I'll be just fine. Besides, I won't know for sure unless I give it a shot." Protoman was already one foot in the door before the Torres cut in once more.

"Protoman, one more thing I'd like to ask you."

"What is it?"

"When you're done, I'd like to talk with you." Protoman didn't like where the request was going.

"Talk about what?"

"I'd just like to learn a little more about you, that's all."

Protoman knew that the good Doctor would of inevitably tried to dive into his head. There was too much about him that was so peculiar and unanswered to not provoke the interest of a scientist. Despite all of this, the look of utter displeasure remained on Protoman's face. Any other time Torres tried to address him he'd gently and hold back, like he was treating Protoman with kid gloves. But in this circumstance, the expression on his face held no hesitation.

"You really couldn't let this go could you?"

"I'm a scientist, it's in my nature to try and find answers, but you already know that."

"That doesn't mean I wanted to hear it. Look, I appreciate the all the help you've given me up to this point. I even appreciate that you're not trying to hide your intentions with some false altruism. But to be perfectly honest, I didn't agree to anything. And right about now I see no reason to."

"I know this can't be easy for you, and I'm not intentionally trying to make things any more difficult for you."

"You're not? Well then I can't imagine what you're capable of when you really put your mind to it." Dr. Torres paid no heed to Protoman's interruption.

"Regardless of your discontent, the fact of the matter is I've stuck my neck out for you more than once, and I feel you owe me this much." His words were absolutely blunt and unwaivering. A tone that Protoman hadn't yet experienced in the brief time he knew Dr. Torres.

Trying in vain to completely dismiss Dr. Torres, he unwillingly acknowledged the facts at hand. While he didn't like where he was coming from, Protoman couldn't just ignore everything he's done for him. Putting his own life at risk to save his own, and even going out of his own way to try and repair him. It would be so easy to reject him and just leave, but there was something inside him the prevented him from acting so irrationally. His initial defiance and selfish disposition broke down to an unknown desire to equalize the situation. Stupid, stupid logic.

Initially Protoman didn't respond, and instead carried his supplies into the small room. Dr. Torres fleetingly called out to him one last time.

"Protoman-"

"I don't think this is gonna be very easy for me, it'll probably take all day. Let me just make sure I can get this done." Protoman paused, not wanting to finish his sentence. "And tomorrow morning, I'll let you pick at my head all you want. Deal?"

Dr. Torres looked very pleased, and gleefully nodded in response. With their final exchange complete, Protoman walked in the room and closed the door behind him.

xxxx

He had no idea what Torres was up to, or whether or not he finished what he was working on. There had been no interruptions, no unnecessary knocks with a, "Protoman are you OK?", or anything else equally pointless. For that he was very appreciative. Since he agreed to carry a conversation with the Doc he probably decided to leave him alone for the rest of the day. He didn't know what he was up to now, but he really didn't care at the moment.

Hours had passed, and the sky was already dark. Protoman had worked well through the day right into the night time. The process wasn't easy at all, but he was managing to get through it regardless. Subliminally accessing his memories was as natural as walking in stride, and the schematics of his arm photographically formed in his mind. All of the internal work had been completed. He just finished soldering all of the wires, and he successfully replaced all of the obsolete metals with good Titanium, or good enough at least.

He held his now detached arm in his hand. Staring at it, he was amazed he was even able to repair the stupid thing at all. All that remained was to get the arm back on the rest of his body. He placed it on the edge of the table and Protoman pulled up a chair as to properly position himself to begin the reattachment. Unfortunately before he could even begin the process of reattaching his arm, it fell to the floor. Two more times the slapstick like routine continued. After a bit of frustration and persistence, Protoman marveled at his own idiocy.

"As stupid as it sounds, I didn't think about how hard it would be doing this one handed."

Finally he was able to get his annoying claw on the table without any conflict from the forces of gravity. He took the extra large soldering iron and held it up to his robotic joint. The final stages of his reattachment would no doubt be the hardest. Making sure that every wire from his arm was correctly joined with the corresponding wire in his shoulder would be an extremely tedious process. Protoman was very methodical, taking extra special care. The last thing he needed to do was screw up, then all he'd have to show for all of his hard work would be some dead weight hanging from his right side.

Protoman could only stare as he pressed the unbridled flame against his titanium body parts showing no reaction to its immense heat. The blue color of the blaze made it apparent of the immense temperature the fire was burning at. Searing heat would be an uncomfortable feeling to say the least if he were human. Strangely, while he was more than capable of detecting physical contact with other objects, the sensation of pain was completely oblivious to him. It was a half-hearted sense of touch that an android must have been blessed with.

As he completed the wiring he started regaining control of his detached arm. Protoman's fingers tenderly bent in and out of his palm, and his forearm moved freely from his elbow just as well. Before doing anything else drastic, getting his arm back in his shoulder socket stood paramount. Very carefully he pushed his arm into the hollow joint, and securely fastend the arm. From there he swung his good as new limb to and fro feeling quite proud. He finally finished.

Now he had to prepare going to Torres first thing in the morning, keeping his end of the agreement. A familiar conflict arose in his head. The impulse to return the doctor's favors grew strong, but Protoman's defiant spirit became even more resilient. Waging a war inside his own head was an unpleasant experience. For every step forward Protoman wanted to take, his leg would gorw even heavier. If there were any casualties, it were the precious minutes that slipped away, decreasing his window of exit. Slowly the inner turbulence faded and clarity began to illuminate upon him. There was only one conclusion he could accept on all levels of his own existence, he wouldn't be forced into anything he didn't want to do.

The first sight of dawn was well away by a few hours. Protoman quiety stepped out of his personal little space. The doctor was nowhere to be seen, but the door of the room in the far corner of the laboratory was closed. That was Torres's bedroom, and it was safe to assume he was well asleep. In quiet stride he made sure his metallic baby steps made as little noise as possible. He stared at the workstation only to find the doctor's little device no longer there. The door was a crack open, making Protoman's departure a bit easier as he gently pulled the door a little more open, and worked his body around the exit. He decided not to close door, if that was how Torres wanted the door he could at least keep it that way.

The first step out of the door was Protoman's last. The expression of his face was frozen, simply hoping that his eyes were betraying him. He could only comfort himself in denial for so long, only to realize what was in front of him. In the shadow of the night stood an all too familiar silhouette of intimidation. It's massive influence couldn't be mistaken, because it was the last thing Protoman's eyes saw before he thought they had closed forever.

"Why the hell are you here?" There was no response from the obstacle in front of him, but instead from behind came a familiar voice.

"He's here because I told him to be here." It became all to obvious to Protoman. There was nothing left for him but to fall victim to whatever he had walked into.

"It was all you-"

Before Protoman could say anything more, he felt a surge of electricity go into his back and run through his entire body. Within an instant he collapsed to the ground. He could feel himself going through convulsions in response to the electric shot. There was no critical damage to his systems, but it left his whole body in a state of paralysis. He wasn't even able to lift his head from the pavement.

"Gallium, take him back in the laboratory, I still have work to do."

"Right away Dr. Torres."

His eyes left the pavement as he was lifted by the giant android the doctor called Gallium. He wanted to scream from the top of his lungs, and wail his limbs, but only silence resulted. Helplessness led to panic. Too many things were happening, Protoman could barely comprehend what he had gotten himself into. His future now rested in the hands of a android that had previously tried to kill him, and a man he knew nothing about.

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Now that everything is in full motion, the pace will hopefully increase. There's not too much more of this story to tell, but I will tell it as best as I can. Unfortunately school is a heavy factor, so expect an update in a couple of weeks. I'll try to avoid the monthly updates from now on.

"As stupid as it sounds, I didn't think about how hard it would be doing this one handed."