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Walking around Doctor Light's property after avoiding it for so long could only be described as surreal.
Sure, the WAR protocols were still there; Quint could feel a droning bass in his skull constantly calculating ideal methods to bring the roof down on top of everyone there, but there was a muzzle over all of it. Like he could ignore it if he tried.
Possible enough, his mind being more occupied with the struggle of trying to associate the place to an internal definition of 'home'.
It wasn't that Wily erased his memories of life as a child of Light. It was more along the lines of... He supplanted them with cold algorithms designed to observe, analyze, overanalyze, and utilize the memories as logical reference points, as opposed to legitimate memories with emotional responses attached to them.
In other words; Quint remembered the layout of the property, the kinds of tools kept in whichever places in the lab, window placement, the weight of certain furniture, and how long it would take for any response teams to get to the property if one of the neighbors called to report a disturbance.
As opposed to which songs Roll would listen to while she was cooking, or what pillows doctor Light would move around to strategic parts of the lab so he could ease his back while he worked. Or Rock's joy felt in the daily routines he had for organizing the lab and keeping notes for his father.
Cold pragmatism was what he knew.
Like being an outside observer to his own past life.
Almost like being a stalker to his own family.
In any case, Wily ensured that what Quint defined as 'home' wasn't the house of doctor Light anymore, be it intentional or not.
Oh and how Quint hated it.
He pushed the door to the backyard open and stepped outside. He briefly scanned the fence perimeter for signs of Bass patrolling the perimeter with Treble.
When he didn't see either of them, or any immediate FBI hats, he crossed the yard towards the storage shed in the far corner of the property.
Anticipation piled up on the back of his neck with every step.
This was where Rock and Roll kept the industrial grade supplies that couldn't stay in the main house by the sheer size of the equipment. If any place was simultaneously as close to, and as far as necessary from Rock, Aki, and doctor Light, then this was it.
The door was locked with a simple and easy latch, so entry wasn't an issue. Nor was bumping headfirst into the knob tied to the light fixture and shining a flickering glow over the inside of the shed.
Briefly, Quint was taken aback at how it was a bit bigger than it looked on the outside, as the foundation had been dug deeper into the ground.
He eased down the ramp that led to the lawnmower and rested a hand on it.
It was huge.
Quint looked around for weed-whackers, rakes, planters, painting supplies, industrial vacuums, shovels, and they all seemed normal sized. Digging through his memory banks, he couldn't recall driving around such a large piece of equipment. It was as big as Quint himself. When did Doctor Light get it?
He couldn't remember.
This lawnmower couldn't have been cheap either to purchase or to build, if that's where it came from, and the WAR protocols would've tagged it if it was a gift from someone else.
So where did it come from?
'Lawn mower_'
'Grass cutter_'
'Blades_Large_'
'objective: KILL DOCTOR LIGHT_'
Quint flinched away violently from the mower.
WAR.
'odds of success-'
"Shut up!" Quint barked out, grabbing the sides of his helmet and ripping it off.
'72%'
"I don't want--t to! St-top telling me-!"
'create diversion to increase odds_'
"No!" Quint yelled as he threw the green helmet at the mower and stalked to one of the weed-whackers hanging up on a hook.
"I'M N--NOT YOUR TO--OY!"
With that, he threw his fist into the wall behind the instrument, hard. The impact resulted in rattling the garden equipment, and a splintering indentation in the wood. Quint's pain register screamed about compromised skin tissue in his fingers and the joints in his arm sharply felt like they buckled together for a moment.
Like before at the fair with the pen, the pain register reprioritized his internal objectives and shut WAR up for the time being.
But of course that did mean Quint had just hurt himself a lot by punching a wall, and he retracted his hand with a hiss.
"...ow..."
Quint deactivated his armor construct and inspected the scraped silicone polymer on his knuckles. Without the green gloves to stop it, black ooze slid over the contours of his hand, dropping onto the floor beneath him. He pressed his off hand to the wound and held it tightly, padding over to a tiny sink unit with a greasy towel hanging off the faucet and ran his wound under a bit of cold water.
'Always have to be the bad guy.'
The thought didn't hit Quint so much as it just sunk into his being. He wasn't quite sure where it came from, but it rang as true when he ran it through his logic processor.
Maybe he was born to help people, but that purpose had been forfeit when he became Mega man. After that, he was to be Wily's opponent at every opportunity; the villain to whatever hero the old man thought he might have been. And when Wily kidnapped and reprogrammed him? Then he was the villain to his family; designed for his own destruction in one form or another. Even after all this time, he was still the bad guy. Still scrutinized by trusted authorities with suspicion, still looked at by other robots as something dangerous.
Aki had known him for an hour at most and decided in that time Quint was too dangerous to be an ally.
And he was willing to play that role.
"Always have..." Quint repeated slowly. "To be the bad guy..."
And he shut off the water, covering his mouth to avoid making noise as he shuddered.
Wily had ruined him.
Mega man was gone.
"I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain..." Rang a voice from outside the shed.
"Huh?" Quint sucked in a breath and looked up. That voice... It registered as an ally in his objective marker. But that couldn't be...
"I shall not hear that nightingale sing on, as if in pain." It continued, closer. "Instead dreaming through the twilight--"
"Over?"
"--that doth not rise nor set…"
Could it be? Here on doctor Light's property? After that awful mission failure at Aki's betrayal and the feds retrieval of the reploids?
Quint wiped his eyes and made his way to the main door to open it up and see for sure.
"Haply, I may remember ..."
It Was him. The one and only, leaning against the wall of doctor Light's shed.
"Over-!" Quint hiccupped as he stepped out, but he stopped himself when he noticed black splotches in Over's signature fur collar.
"And haply may forget…" The Android finished the quote with a sigh before he turned his head to regard the Wily bot with a weak smile. "Hey Quint."
"Is-s that fluid-id?!" Quint gasped, assessing the state of the rest of the Android's body.
Now, there were definitely more eloquent ways to describe Over's appearance, but the most apt one was he looked like he'd just gotten back from a fight with the lawn mower.
His normally pristine white armor was riddled with dents and gashes in the metal, the bodysuit had nicks and cuts exposing the pale polymer skin underneath, and Over was positively covered with black circulatory fluid; Most notably a single long gash across his nose. His collar was matted with the stuff and there was spatter across his torso like a sprinkler went off in front of him.
"Yeah." He confirmed casually. "Don't worry, it's not mine," a grimace. "Not most of it anyway. Mind keeping the door open? I need a scrub brush."
Over was standing alright on his own, but given his appearance, that could very well change. Though Quint doubted a quick scrub was going to fix up the Android's appearance.
"... Among a-other things?" Quint asked dryly, gesturing towards the door and offering his hands to help him inside.
"Smartie pants."
Over let Quint lead him into the shed, promptly hitting his head on the same dangling knob that Quint had earlier and glaring at it with pursed lips. The Wily bot didn't comment on it, as nobody ever Didn't bonk their head on that, and instead gave the Android another once over.
"What happened to you?" he asked as he stalked to a bucket on a shelf and pulled a wire brush out of it.
"Would you call me a liar if I said it was regicide?" The Android answered, sounding like he was joking.
Quint blinked at the specificity of the word while he filled the bucket halfway with water and some lemon scrub at the sink.
Regicide.
As in, to kill a king or monarch.
There were only so many people in the world who fit that bill, and every single one of them were too important to have been killed.
So Quint's answer was; "...yes, because that ba-had better not be what you were doing-ing."
Over gave a tired chuckle as he moved to lean on the lawn mower.
"Well, you got me there."
Then he grit his teeth and hissed before looking at his hand. Surprise dawned on his face as he turned the appendage to view it from different angles.
"Oh." He said dumbly. "Forgot that was there. That explains a lot."
"What is it?" Quint asked, watching from his periphery.
"It's a knife, what's it look like?" The white Android elaborated with another hiss as Quint shut off the water and made his way over.
It became clear there was a large object embedded through the center of Over's left hand as the Wily bot approached, though calling it a knife didn't seem too accurate. It was long and had the handle and basic wedge shape of a knife, but it had cerated barbs coming off of one side, anchoring itself into the robotic appendage like a hook. Or, maybe...
"... fancy harpoon pike?" Quint supplied as an explanation for the appearance.
Over's eyes widened and his jaw hung open a bit as he looked at the weapon again.
"Wha- well..." He pursed his lips and conceded the explanation with a nod. "Actually, yeah I could see that. Uh..." Then he looked about, almost lost.
"Where's the wire brushes?"
"Here." Quint handed the Android the brush and offered the bucket to dunk it in.
"How's Aki doing?" Over asked after he lathered the brush and started scrubbing off his front. "Don't suppose he's rocking one of those too, is he?"
Quint followed Over's gaze to the tracker on his arm; there to let the feds know if he crossed the invisible lines around the property.
The way Over phrased it seemed rhetorical, as though he already knew Aki was on better terms with them than Quint was.
But that would mean the Android already knew about Quint's failure to keep the reploids away from authorities. Did he?
Oh, stupid question. They were both here after all, he had to know.
"He's fri- fu-ffff.. fiine," Quint began, intending to ask after where Over was in order to see what had been going on, but he lost his train of thought when his stutter absolutely betrayed him.
Over fixed him with another slack-jawed expression before grimacing with knit eyebrows.
"Uh oh," he muttered. "Thought my ears were just playing tricks on me, your stutter's back?" Then the Android set aside the scrub brush and knelt down, beckoning Quint to him. "Thought I fixed that."
"You did. I r-rebra- bru- broke! I broke it. Again." Quint tried to explain without moving towards the Android.
"Crap. lemme have a look at your vocal cords." Over grunted as he scooted in the Wily bot's direction, dragging his feet on the ground as he did so.
"No no no, n-no time." He tried redirecting the Android's attention to more pressing matters, but neither his own voice nor the Android himself were cooperating with his intentions.
"Don't be like that, Quint. I just need to see if the cable got dislodged." he spoke casually, but the Wily bot was only colorblind, emphasis on the 'color'.
Over's face was not only littered with black splatter and smearing, but there were scrapes in the synthetic skin and dark circles under his half lidded eyes.
Obvious signs of wear, tear, and fatigue.
"Takes at most five minutes and it's not invasive, I promise."
And yet the Android was more concerned with a Wily bot's speech impediment?
"You're more hurt to- than- !"
"Personally I think it's more important to be able to finish a sentence properly." Over interrupted as he reached out to touch him with his uninjured hand. "Just a minute..."
The Android's index and middle fingers gently tapped and pressed down into Quint's neck before they both felt something move.
"Try it now."
But when Quint opened his mouth, no sound came out at all. The problem had just been made infinitely worse, and he cupped his hands over his throat reflexively.
Over's eyes widened comically when he realized it as well.
"Whoops. Shit!" The Android said earnestly as he reoriented his footing and tried to move towards Quint again. "Doing this one handed, sorry. Someone try to choke you out?"
The whole reason for the stutter in the first place was an apparently loose wire connecting brain to vocal processor in Quint's neck. Over had said when he first repaired him that the most permanent fix for it would be to redo the whole rigging from scratch, which Quint didn't want after being unconscious for the eye operation for so long. So the loose cable stayed.
And Over had just dislodged it completely, so a glare was his reply.
"It's a yes or no question." he iterated, giving him a 'cmon man' sort of face.
If anyone could fix the issue right there, it was him. He knew what he'd done, odds were he knew how to undo the damage as well.
So Quint dropped his hands and nodded, letting his face go back to something neutral.
"Okay. Uh..." Over lifted his arms. "Gesture with your hands, was it the right, or the left hand that gotcha?"
The Wily bot thought back to the fair.
It didn't seem important which hand Bass used to grab him when he and Treble had Quint cornered. Not at the time anyway. But if memory served, Bass favored using his left hand to operate his buster, despite the fact that he was right handed. So Quint thought about it again, and yes, it was indeed Bass' right hand that grabbed him.
So he established the fact by pointing to his right.
"Right. Okay then." The Android muttered, hovering his hand over Quint's neck, gently tapping fingers against the skin. "Thumb, index, middle, ring, pinky- pinky! That's what dislodged the wires. Just gotta..."
Quint registered discomfort as Over really dug his finger into the synthetic skin to massage the wiring underneath into the correct place. A tiny click sounded and an acknowledgement message loaded in Quint's periphery.
Grinning, the time traveller sat back on his haunches.
"There. Let's hear it now."
Quint made the motion to say 'hello', but the sound coming out was akin to an engine turning on.
"Warm it up, bud." Over said calmly, bringing his uninjured hand above his chest. "Like this. Ma. Mamama. Me. Mememe."
He was almost singing it.
Which was an idea; that Over might be able to sing, but the fact he really wasn't and was simply making an example slightly overshadowed the thought. And while Quint could never recall being a competent vocalist, he tried anyway.
"Maaaa..?" He began, sounding staticy.
"Mmmma mma ma."
He could start hearing improvement.
"Ma. Meeee... Me. Ma, me mmmaaammmmee-"
"I'm not your mama."
Ma. Me.
Mama.
Caught off guard, Quint snorted incredulously before giggling uncontrollably.
"Yeah, there he is!" Over cheered. "There he is!"
Quint was glad to not be mute, but he was more stricken that he'd just laughed.
When was the last time he did that?
Since... Since when?
Where?
Why?
He couldn't remember.
"Back to business then. Hup!" Over grunted as he stood up from his crouched position.
Quint shook off his thoughts and grabbed another scrub brush to help out with cleaning.
"Bucket." Quint prompted, letting the smile linger.
"Thanks-" Over smiled back before his pupils dilated and the android abruptly wobbled on his feet.
He flapped his arms to get his balance back, accidentally flicking oil from his damaged appendage across Quint's face before planting his feet and bending his knees in a horse stance.
The wily bot blinked and stared at his company's bewildered expression until Over's eyes shrank back to normal size.
"Stood up too fast."
"You're getting fluids everywhere." Quint spat out a glob and scrubbed his face with his arm.
"Oh yeah, that."
The time traveller began poking around the blade in his palm, blinking a few times and he furrowed his brows in distress.
Sympathetic, Quint cleared his throat and looked around for anything useful. His eyes scanned shelves and equipment on the wall until settling on a few rolls of electrical tape and sponges. That would work.
"I can get you some tape for the time being." He offered, making his way to the shelf in question, avoiding the weed whackers as WAR buzzed in the background again.
Over didn't really respond.
After grabbing the tape and sponges, Quint stepped back into Over's main area of vision and waved to get his attention.
The android blinked and slowly took a sponge when the Wily bot offered it to clean the area around the blade.
It wasn't even two days ago that Over had been just fine. Sure, for the most part, it appeared the Android's armor had protected him from greater harm, and the blade in his hand plus the gash on his face seemed to be the outright worst of the wounds, but what caused all this damage? The nicks, the dusty smell, the spatter, and, looking closer now, there were signs of damage inflicted by an electric type weapon too.
What the hell?
"Ah," Over hissed as he dropped the sponge, the splat of oil drawing Quint's eye.
As Quint was kneeling down to grab it, another detail about the time traveller’s messed up appearance suddenly stood out.
As a rule of thumb, armor and clothing wasn't favorably white, as with white clothes one can obviously tell when the garment was dirty. But, boldly, the parts of Over's ensemble that were actually armor were all white with touches of blue, and light fixtures Quint guessed were probably red, but possibly green. Therefore the dirt stains, the rough scrapes, and scarring on his greaves were plain to see.
Why notice that?
Well, from personal experience, Quint knew that particular kind of scraping most likely would have happened from contact with concrete.
And, scanning him up and down again as Quint stood up with the sponge, there were other areas on his arms and helmet where more marks were visible.
Almost as if a concrete building had fallen on him.
Which would explain the dust and city smell on the android, albeit not the dirt and grass stains on his feet.
But the answer to that one was even easier; Over had walked here after whatever he was doing that got him injured.
Which made him think the Android had hopped the fence.
Not an easy feat right now.
"How'd you get past Bass?" Quint articulated, clearly as he could as Over's focus incrementally returned.
He’d overheard the war machine agreeing to watch the perimeter through the night, just in case someone or something wanted to find the reploids after agent Krantz discreetly removed them from custody.
"Fun fact," the time traveller began. "Ol' Bass has been having some seeing issues of his own. You see," a pause for breath. "He took some damage when he was abroad in Germany, and he's been talking to Roll about getting him and a couple of other bots fixed and reprogrammed. Among other things."
Hold on, Bass was what?!
"Bass has been what?!" Quint sputtered, taken off guard.
"Yep," Over nodded. "So, mislead Treble's attention and Bass will follow. Easy...." Another pause, a purse of the lips, then a dropped jaw and a frustrated sigh. "But you were probably more interested in the bit about your sister."
"That's why Bass is helping out with all of this!" Quint put together. "He's here to look for her! Bass and Roll!"
The war machine had never admitted to the exact reasoning behind the aid he offered both to the feds as well as the Light family during this particular ordeal. Initially, Quint had just believed Bass was involved because Zero was involved. But then again, the two had barely interacted, and while Bass' default mode was hostile, it didn't seem like he was all that interested in Zero's presence; that is, not more than Aki's or Quint's. It made more sense the war machine would have a vested interest in what was going on if he actually had something at stake; like Roll's disappearance.
Though now that it had left his mouth, Quint positively hated the sound of it.
"When did that happen?"
How had he not known Roll was speaking with Bass about anything? How had Rock not known? How was it that he was hearing this from Over of all people?!
Not only that, but how was this something Bass was able to do?!
"Hasn't been happening for as long as you'd think. He's gotten good at covering his tracks and his corners, but it'll get worse before it gets better." The time traveller supplied, teetering on his feet.
"No, no, do the WAR protocols not apply to Bass?" Quint reiterated.
WAR was the reason why Quint hadn't come back to the Light property in so long. Was WAR even something Wily programmed into Bass?
"He's the command unit..." Over breathed, looking at the blade in his palm with unfocused eyes. "He can overwrite his systems and objectives if he needs to. Hooo..." The Android blew out a breath as he gripped his other hand around the knife handle. "Gonna... need to get this out before I do anything else..."
"How di ...uh,"
The knowledge of Bass' true intentions brought with it more questions, as did the suspicions about what Over might've been doing between now and the last time Quint saw him, but watching the time traveller wobble to stay on his feet, struggling with a barbed blade was absolutely, irritatingly, pathetic.
"Will you sit down already?!" Quint spat with a huff. "You look like you're gonna fall over!"
"Nope. Nada. If I sit down now, I'm gonna pass out. For sure. Definitely. Not happening, nope. Ow... Stupid knife, stupid spikes--" He glared at it "--It's stuck."
"You're an eyesore, you know that?"
"Heh. You should see the other guys..." The android muttered before frowning and firmly shaking his head.
"Actually, no--" he fiddled with the flesh around the blade. "--You don't need that drama. Egh!"
Over flinched, curling his body around his hand and scrunching his face at the pain. More black fluid leaked from his palm, splattering with warm bubbles onto the ground.
"Here, let me help with that." It wasn't an offer, or an order, not firm, but not tender either. Just something in between.
"Sure," the time traveller complied as Quint led him to the sink. "And, sorry for not getting back to you sooner. Got stuck between a rock and a hard place, you know how it goes."
"Was the building downtown the rock in this metaphor? Or did you not have something to do with that?" Quint asked pointedly as he grasped another rag from a nearby shelf.
"Oh, heard about that, didja?" The android responded with a sly look.
"It was on the news," the Wily bot explained while he gripped the knife handle. "You're lucky nobody was there to get hurt."
"Hey, I was there! I got hurt! Or did you think- yeowch!!"
Over lurched and curled his fingers at the firm tug Quint gave on the blade, gritting his teeth.
"That's really stuck in here isn't it?" Quint adjusted his grip in the blade and used his other hand to hold Over's wrist. The barbs were certainly fulfilling their purpose. "Who did this belong to?"
"The hard place in my previous metaphor, if the building was the ro- ahk!" Over gasped, bowing his head in the fight against the reflex to pull his arm away.
"Stop moving!"
Quint leaned his weight on it to ground the appendage to the sink counter.
"He's just some guy that wants to put me outta business." The Android continued through gritted teeth as Quint pulled, pushed, and twisted the blade. "He'll be back. Not for a while though, don't worry- !!"
Over trailed off into a yell as the knife was finally worked out of his palm with an oily squelch.
"Got it." Quint stated as he let the Android's arm go so he could writhe and cradle it.
"PIZDETS!" Over spat as he backed into a wall of gardening equipment, hunched down, wrist in hand. "DERR'MO! Ohhhh! I've decided! I HATE that guy! That’z it-! ZHIZN’ YBET MEYA..!"
Not that Quint wasn't sympathetic, but it struck him that Over wasn't speaking German like usual.
No, that was...
"... Russian."
"What?!" Over half-cried half-hyperventilated, looking at Quint from the corners of crazed eyes.
"You speak Russian."
The android hissed harsh breaths through his teeth as he processed the change of subject. Eventually, his pupils grew back to normal size, as opposed to the hateful look they had previously, and then Over purposefully let go of his wounded hand to reach up and squeeze the fur of his collar. Slowly, he dragged in a deep breath through his nose, held it for a moment, then blew it out through his mouth.
"Yeah?" He started, voice flat and level. "I've... never hid that from you. Not intentionally anyway." He added with a grimace.
"I thought you were German." Quint asked with a wrinkled nose.
The time traveller hadn't explicitly said where he was from, but given how much he spoke to himself and Zero in the language, Quint figured he must've had his origins in Germany. That Russia was now a factor, suspected by Aki and confirmed here, made Quint feel just a little like his confidant was withholding more than he initially thought.
A beat passed and Over repeated his de-stressing technique before answering with; "I'm a bit of half and half, why?"
Half and half? Then Over's construction was a joint effort between people from different countries.
Which wasn't unheard of, but wasn't what Quint expected either.
"I was just a little confused. Aki mentioned you said that you were from Russia."
"Ah." The Android sighed, hanging his head and going back to nursing his hand. "He still mad at me for that?"
"Mad, no. Displeased, definitely." Which was true. Aki didn't seem angry about the situation per-say, save for Quint's last conversation with the boy. But that was a more personal issue, not pertaining to Over.
What did though...
"Say, a little unrelated, but..." Quint began, shifting his eyes about before landing on the knife and his damaged knuckle. "I think your counter programs to WAR are failing."
"How so?" Over asked, straightening up. "Bass try to order you around?"
"However did you guess?" Quint asked, bit of an edge in his voice as he looked back at his compatriot.
"A hunch," Over answered before he took a step forward, another to the side, stood on his toes, and outstretched an open palm towards Quint.
"I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be, when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see," he murmured with an echo.
Quint blinked once at the words, but in the instant Over went to standing on the balls of his feet, something whirred to life in Quint's code.
“For there are still so many things that I have never seen,” he raised his hand upwards, then turned his head away as he lifted his other hand outward. “ in every wood -every spring- there is a different green.”
A cool, windy sensation blew through Quint’s circuits with the words and the slow, deliberate motions, whistling through the cracks of broken glass before turning from wind into water, into mud.
“I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago,” he closed his eyes and curled his fingers, pulling them to his chest with a slow shake of his head as he sank down to a knee.
The mud slid between every crevasse as it cooled, hardening into stone. Smothering the droning, non-existent voice of the protocols until quiet remained.
“And of people who will see a world... that I shall never know.”
The Wily bot looked down at the knife, at his unoccupied hand, and then at the massive lawnmower that had caused so much distress.
WAR was silent.
"Better?" Over asked with a wobble as he dropped his hands and stood upright.
Quint blinked again, rubbed at his eyes, and strained his ears.
He heard nothing.
No droning bass, no numbers being crunched, no calculations being made.
The Wily bot closed his eyes and sucked in a breath before choking out a quiet, grateful;
"Yes... better."
"Good," Over sighed as he leaned bodily back on the nearest shelf, rattling it's contents. "...Good..."
An E-tank rolled out onto the floor from the bottom shelf, getting both bots attention.
"How long has that been there?" Quint breathed, stooping down to grab it.
He opened the tab and gave the contents a sniff and a tiny sip, seeing if it had expired. The metallic taste left Quint feeling awake, and he handed the can to Over with a firm nod.
"Here, get your energy back."
Over shakily accepted the tank and took a swig, swishing it between his cheeks before swallowing. A beat passed before he took a deep breath in with his eyes closed, smiling contentedly.
"... That's the stuff," he said before taking another gulp.
Quint allowed himself a sigh of relief, shifting on his feet before looking at the lawnmower again with a frown.
"So... Just now," he began. "What'd you do? Were your modifications not complete?"
"No, they're complete." Over licked his lips, swiped a hand beside his head, and pulled a hardcover book out of the air. "If the barriers come down again, just recite one of the marked poems in this book out loud. They get stronger every time."
"Is that how it works?" Quint asked as he set down the knife, caught the book when it was tossed to him, set that aside as well, and replaced it with a sponge and some electrical tape. "It breaks, then rebuilds itself stronger?"
"In fact it is." Over pushed off from the shelf, draining and setting the E-tank aside. "WAR's a beast that plays for the long haul, so the counter codes need to be able to beat it at it's own game." He made a face and waggled a finger. "It's less 'bring a sword and twine with you to the labyrinth', more 'build some new walls inside and let the Minotaur get lost and starve'."
"Huh..."
Quint offered the tape and proceeded to bind Over's wounded hand. It wasn't a permanent fix by any means; Over would most likely require a graft of new skin in order to seal the wound completely. Not to mention the bandage would do nothing for the definitely damaged bones and nerves, which would need to be either rewired or replaced. But they were in a gardening and supply shed, and Quint hadn't properly repaired a wound like this in a long time, so operating with a crummy hand was something he would have to deal with for a bit.
Quint finished the bandage and Over delicately flexed his fingers with a wince. They trembled, but Over clenched a fist and wrote it off with a shrug, stalking back to the bucket of soap to continue cleaning his armor.
Quint knew he wanted to do more, but logically, a band-aid was all he could give at present. It didn't feel good of course, considering Over had done more for him, and the frustration grinded his teeth.
He looked around for another wire brush, hoping to help with those black marks before they totally stained the armor, when his eyes settled back on the barbed knife.
picking it up and scrutinizing it, there was a pale rhombus gem inlaid above the grip, and he noted just how heavy it was. Part of him was amused by how it looked like a Christmas tree ornament someone had cut in half and painted black, and the other part of him figured that a blade like this served only one purpose;
Pain.
Basically fulfilled when it was plunged into Over's hand.
The thought made him shiver as he stashed it in a pocket.
After locating another brush, he set about cleaning off Over's right side so he wouldn't need to stress his left hand doing it himself, which the time traveller both allowed and smiled at.
They elected to use a strip of tape to close the gash on his face and Over gently combed the splotches out of his collar with his fingers while Quint worked on the helmet.
The back and forth scrubbing motions helped to settle Quint's nerves enough for him to stop for a moment, take in a breath, and ask;
"... So... what now?"
"Now?" Over turned with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, the plan. What about your plan?" Quint clenched a fist and bowed his head, apologetic. "We were detained. I-"
"Hey," the time traveller interrupted. "Who says you're in trouble for that? The plan for the fair was to make sure that the hunters could subdue and extract Protoman when he was possessed. Which they did."
"Then they were caught in the Wily castle!" Quint said exasperatedly.
"That was also part of the plan," Over assured before sheepishly biting his lip and pushing his bangs up. "I... Failed to brief you and Aki on that cause I didn't think you were going to chase after them."
He shook his head.
“Not to mention I'm not blameless in failing to extract you when you were caught. But if I can explain;--” he tapped the tape on his face. “--a certain something came up that I didn’t predict and it literally demanded my attention. By the time I could pick myself up, you were already in custody, and you know my skimmer doesn’t work if a bunch of people are looking at me.
“I couldn’t help you out of there, and for that, I'm sorry.” he bowed his head then stood back straight and continued with gusto, "But don't think for a second that I fault you for wanting to help, that's why you stole the cart, right?"
Over had watched them swipe the go-cart.
Had seen them fail, and wasn't angry; didn't even seem disappointed.
Was he expecting things to end like that?
No, no, he just said he wasn't.
"... Y...yeah," Quint replied, offering back Over's helmet.
"See? Water under the bridge," he said with a wave of the hand before taking the helm and putting it on.
Quint fidgeted with his damaged knuckle behind his back, processing it all.
Over watched him, settling his helmet until it sat more comfortably before flicking his eyes to the doorway, pressing his mouth into an uncomfortable line as he bobbed his head from side to side.
"... unless you and Aki want out?" He offered.
Quint dropped his jaw.
"Uh-"
"I mean, that's always been an option," Over shrugged nonchalantly. "I won't pretend that the Sand isn't bad news, and I'm not judging if you don't want anything to do with it anymore." He held out an open palm. "I'm here now, I can pull you from the mission if you want-"
"No, that's not it! I- we..." Quint balled his fists in front of his chest and forced himself to take a breath.
He shouldn't have been surprised. After all, this was Over talking.
Over, who had offered him help at his lowest point.
Over, who had given him repairs, and supplies, and energy, and conversation without judgement.
Offered Quint a purpose, and the option to refuse that purpose.
A chance to see his father and a brother he would otherwise never know.
A version of himself he couldn't imagine.
"Aki wants to help them," Quint elaborated. "I know you intended to take him home after the fair, but he's involved now. If you poof him or myself out at this point, then people would notice that we were gone. And they don't need to waste time looking for us when they could have an extra pair of eyes and another megabuster to handle the Sand. After all, you brought Aki here because of his ice weapon, didn't you?"
Such was the linchpin that allowed the Maverick Hunters to get away with what they needed.
"That is true... And I admit, wanting to help the others is not unexpected of him at all." Over shrugged, then narrowed his eyes and gave Quint a look. "But you said 'us'. Do you mean you want to work with the Maverick hunters and your dad too?"
... It had crossed his mind.
WAR protocol or not, seeing doctor Light and hearing his voice had brought levity and relief to Quint's worries about his father. The knowledge that doctor Light was still very much alive and well after so many attempts on Wily's part was the good kind of confirmation Quint hadn't allowed himself after he ran away from Wily.
But knowledge didn't ease any of his aching, if anything, it made it all hurt more.
The bizarre feeling of walking around Light labs was so utterly, undeniably wrong that he would be lying if he said it didn't break his heart little by little every moment he lingered.
Knowing the halls, the floors, but not the flowers or the paint.
So alien, so wrong.
But he wanted it back.
"... yes."
"Okay." Over replied nonchalantly.
Wait. What?
"Just like that?!" Quint sputtered.
"What? I'm not gonna tell you that you can't go home!" Over reeled, throwing his hands up. "I'm glad to hear it! I can only imagine how much that means to you! It's just..." A pause, a grimace, a slouch to his shoulders. "Just... Means that I won't be able to get Aki back home for a while, that's all."
"Able?" Quint repeated. "Why not?
"Distance, communication," he ticked off his fingers. "I can't stick around, you know."
"You know, I don't think I do." Quint shook his head with a frown. "Why can't you be involved with this yourself? Why can't you help more directly?"
The time traveller was an otherwise hands-on type of person, especially when it came to repairs and briefings, so this anonymous, hands-off method of dealing with the Sand and the hunters was weird. While Over did seem to enjoy the benefits of people who might take issue with his mission not being in the know about his identity, it was also pretty clear that he wasn't actually comfortable with this approach.
So why use it?
"I have my reasons, one of them being the guy who gave me that knife you got there, and another one responsible for this stupid low energy I'm running on," Over spat, fiddling with his bandaged hand. "There's a bunch of people who would rather I be dead than working on the continuum like I am. People who would just Watch while the Sand infected and destroyed everything. If I made my involvement with the battle more direct? They'd go after everyone I worked with."
He clenched his hands behind his back and snarled before pacing around the lawnmower.
"They've actually already tried and, like I said, you don't need that kind of drama breathing down your neck." He stopped and sighed, his shoulders slumping.
"I would rather fight them myself than let them sabotage what we're doing here."
So that's what it was.
The gashes, the scrapes, the energy loss and the pronged blade meant to pin and cause pain.
The dazed, lost look in his eyes.
"They almost killed you." Quint concluded.
"This? I've had worse, I know how to deal with it." Over said, brandishing his injured appendage. And it almost sounded like the truth. "They're shit excuses for living things, and I'm not about to make them your problem to deal with. Okay?"
“...Okay... “
“Okay then. Now, that being said--” he held up three fingers. “--I did some digging, and I came up with some good news, some bad news, and some worse news. Bad news first; it looks like the Sand found another host in one of the displaced Wily numbers.”
Of course it did. If it infected Protoman, who had otherwise been completely uninvolved, then it very well would have infected someone else.
“Which one? Do you know?” asked the Wily bot as he squared his shoulders.
“Sword man,” he nodded. “in the next county over, so everyone had better sync with Light's transerver or there'll be hell to pay.”
“And the good news?”
“I found out how the Sand got to Protoman.” he steepled his hands together and peered between his fingers with a pinched brow. “It's taken a robot to use as a vessel, hiding out to possess anyone unsuspecting out and about.” Over dropped his hands and shrugged at the door.
“It's been staying on the move, but I can tell that it's got something of a hub somewhere nearby.”
“Do you know where?”
The time traveller’s face dropped, blowing out a breath.
“...That's partly the worse news.”
“Oh..?” Quint raised a brow.
“One of those shitty people I mentioned was up to bad juju and I couldn't get a better idea of where exactly the main host is, but I do know Who it is…” he shook his head and clenched his teeth. “and it's not good.”
“Who?” the Wily bot asked as Over gave him an odd look.
“You're gonna want to sit down.” he muttered as he approached the smaller robot.
"Why?"
Over took a breath, gently placed his hands on Quint's shoulders and guided him to sit on the ramp. After, the Android grabbed the electrical tape they'd used for his injury, stretched it out, and started wrapping it around the Wily bot's damaged knuckle.
Quint blinked at the gesture, not realizing that Over had noticed it. But he found the time traveller's face was dreadfully apologetic when he searched it for clues.
A few passes of the tape and Over cut it off with a bite from a prominent canine tooth before tenderly pressing it into place on the boy's hand. He then let out a defeated sigh and slightly bowed his head when he hoarsely spoke.
"...It's Roll. The Sand's using her body to stalk around undetected.”