//------------------------------//
// Bonus Chapter: Solo Rider. 
// Story: Bros in Equestria 
// by Mandroid 
//------------------------------//


 Year 1840 in Equestria.
	
"Come on ponies, come on! We're curtains up in five minutes!" Key Grip says knocking his hoof against a table.
You adjust your helmet for the eighth time and walk up to him.  "Grip, we've been practicing for months, we know our parts."
You put your hand on his shoulder and smile. "So relax, eh?"
He brushes your hand off. "Mister Anon, you may be an experienced actor in this context, but this is the first time we've performed this play and you brought me on to ensure that it goes off PERFECTLY."
He trots away. "A little stress is acceptable."
You shake your head as you watch him leave. Guy's gonna give himself an ulcer.
"Guy's gonna give himself an ulcer." someone behind you says.
Mous walks up with his helmet under one arm and his poncho on.
"Will you quit playing? You're gonna break it before the show even starts."
"But my arm has a motor in it!" he says.
"Just...leave it alone, you can play during the show."
A portly pony with a large white beard in a lab coat waddles up to you both. "Are you  both ready?" he asks.
You chuckle. "All ready "doctor"."
Mous slips his helmet on and clicks it shut. "Still can't believe you stole my old part."
"Oh you've got a more important part anyway."
The lights dim and the orchestra does a sound check.
"Oop! That's our cue! Come along, Mous!" the doctor says before trotting out onto the stage with Mous following him.
You sit just off stage left  and look out over the once again packed crowed with the Princesses in their box, content to sit and watch before you're due on stage.

-Music-
A hush falls over the crowd as the orchestra begins play. A backdrop of a familiar dystopian city is pushed out on stage, the windows in its buildings springing to life.
An older gentlecolt in a tuxedo stands on a pedestal and clears his throat.
" No one was left who could remember how it had happened, how the world had fallen under darkness. At least no one who would do anything. No one who would oppose the robots. No one who would challenge their power, or so Dr. Wily believed..."
One of the buildings, a crumbling high rise sticking out above the rest has it's window begin to glow brighter and brighter as the stallion inside continues his work.
"Twenty floors above the dark streets of the city, Dr. Light lived in a run-down tenement. An eccentric and brilliant man. Light was a loner, a thinker, a man of ideas. Ideas forbidden in Wily's society. The society for which he worked. The society in which he lived. The society that he would set free."
Doctor Light scrambles from table to table connecting servos to motors to on a table.
"And so Light worked, far into the night, when the watchful eyes of Wily's robots weren't upon him. He'd set his skillful hands to the task of creating a device to bring about a change, to create a machine to bring freedom, to create a man to save the world."
The arc generators behind Light sparked to life and feed a city's worth of power into the prone form on the table.
"Twelve years Light worked! And on a cold night in the year 200X, Protoman was born!
Mous rises off the table in his helmet and suit, spinning up his gun arm and no doubt grinning underneath his helmet. As the narrator speaks, Mous gets off the table, grabs a shield and wraps a poncho around his neck.
"A perfect man, an unbeatable machine, hell-bent on destroying every evil standing between man and freedom, built for one purpose, to destroy Wily's army of evil robots. Ready, willing, prepared to fight." 
Mous runs out of the laboratory and out of the building. He dashes through the congested streets of the city and makes his way towards the imposing superstructure to the edge of town.
A factory-fortress who's face called to immediate mind the face of a skeleton.  Smoke pouring from its stacks, the gates open and a figure stands perfectly still in the light of the entrance, meeting Mous's helmeted glare ad they stare at each other.
The crash of metal destroys the silence and one by one, more mechanical figures step into the light.
"Cutman."
"Gutsman."
"Elecman."
"Bombman."
"Fireman."
"Iceman."
"Proto."
Mous spins up his cannon as the one with a flaming head held a hoof forward and shouted "ATTACK!"
The violence is sudden and surreal, metal against metal as man and robot pony come to deafening blows. Mous blocks with his shield and fires with his cannon. Dealing death without remorse or hesitation. Still, the audience can see how imbalanced the fight is, with only one being against so many. He fights without the fear of his inevitable defeat while the crowd keeps their distance, straining to see through the smoke to make out each crushing blow.
The din of battle stops, abruptly and unsettlingly.
"And as the smoke cleared! Wily rose above the countless robots remaining. Protoman was wounded, low on energy, struggling to remain standing as Wily ordered the final attack."
Mous leans on his gun arm, magical sparks of electricity arcing from his joints as his knees give out from him.
"The death of Protoman."
The audience gasps as the robots dive in on Mous and the lights above the stage begin to flash. The narrator's face is the only consistently illuminated thing on stage.
"The crowd had gathered there to watch him fall, to watch their hopes destroyed." he sang. "They watched them beat him, they watched them break him, they watched his last defense deployed."
On cue, Mous throws off a glowing sphere that fizzles out against the machines.
"There was not a man among them who would let himself be heard. But from the crowd, from their collective fear, arose these broken words:"
The robots continue to tear Mous apart underneath them.
"We are the dead. We are the dead."
The crowd begins to cry out questions, each time answered by the repetitious words of the Narrator.
"What have we done?" they cry.
"We are the dead." the narrator answers.
" What will we do?"
"We are the dead."
"Where will we turn?"
"We are the dead."
"Is there nothing we can do?"
"We are the dead."
"How did it come to this?"
"We are the dead."
"How did we go so wrong?"
"We are the dead."
The crowd finally relents and joins in the mournful wail of the narrator.
"We are the dead..."
The lights stop flashing as the robots haul Mous's broken body away off stage and plunge it into darkness.

-Music-
Doctor Light sat with his head in his hooves, watching as the crowd carried Mous's scorched and scarred helmet -- the only thing left of he who would save them.  As the crowed marches back to either their homes or the makeshift grave where the helmet would remain, Light sees a tear streaming down his face and collapses onto the ground at the weight in his chest.
His face contorts to various emotions. Frustration, humiliation, hatred. All these and more are present as they have been since he escaped the city so many years ago. In that time he had learned to focus them into his work, his machine, his son.
But now to see it all come to this...
This time Light had built more than a machine. He had sent a man, his own son, into battle to do the impossible and save those who could not be saved. The hatred wells up in his face again as he storms through his apartment, tearing down his machines and tools.
"They deserve the hell they brought upon themselves." he said.
He levitated a tool and began to smash and cut at his flesh, attempting to destroy his means of creation. But as he tried to destroy his workshop, his hooves seemed to create on their own accord. Pieces of metal were snatched off the ground and fused together, beginning to take form.
The form of Light's anger, of his guild, of his grief, of his love, the form of a son. Your form.
The years passed. Nothing changed. The denizens of the city were wearily content to suffer under Wily's robot army.
In whispers, they still spoke of Mous.
You would find out the truth, Light new this. When you were old enough, Light called you to his workshop and began to explain.

-Music-
You sat on a box across from your father and rested your arms on your knees. He sighs and looks at you with a pained smile.
You tilt your head to the side as he speaks.
"You have heard me tell this story many times before you sleep."
He gently bops you on your head. "This time listen carefully"
"And I will tell you once again." 
He looks out the window into the city below and grimaces.
"But this time understand that what I'm telling you, every single word is true. You need to know."
You're confused. "Know what, dad?"
"There was another who came before you. He was a hero and your brother and my son. He fought the darkness, and the darkness won."
Your eyes widen at the revelation.
A...brother?
Dad's eyes are filled with pain.
"And he fought bravely, and he died bravely, but he was forsaken by the ones he wished to save."
"And when he died he died in vain."
"...What?"
"You need to know...you are not him..."
"A time is coming, and I must warn you, though it's something that you may not understand. They can't be saved by just one man."
Dad reaches out and grabs you, hugging you close to his chest as your heart aches. "And I am sorry, because I was wrong and I'd take away the weight his shoulders had to bear. Because when he fell I was the only one that cared."
Dad pulls away and looks into your eyes. "You need to know. You are not him! His fight's not yours!"
You break away and run to the window, your eyes filled with tears. Your heart aches under what you'd just been told. How could dad do nothing? How could he not avenge the death of Protoman?
Dad leans against his work table. "That story's finished. That story's ended. Understand there's nothing more that we can do. And I will not risk losing you..."
You turn back and glare at him with angry eyes.
"For if you leave now, you will be fighting for a people that refuse to comprehend. They have chosen their own end."
He pushes off the table and trots towards you. "So you will stay here. You will obey me and I will keep grieving for the son I sent to death. You are all that I have left!"
"You need to know! You are not him!" This fight's not yours!"
You stare at him a moment longer. "No."
You don't let him answer as you tear past him. You throw open the doors and disappear into the stairway.
The last thing you head was dad shouting after you. "You cannot win!"

-Music-
You burst out of your building and ran down the streets as fast as you could. Looking up you saw the other buildings, each housing thousands of the people your father says simply watched as your brother died.
"I have seen this city a thousand times. Through the glass twenty stories high, I have watched this city burn. If everything that you said is true, there is no hope someday they will learn. But if I stay here with you, then I will never know the truth."
Your legs eat up the distance as you run. "Do not say this is how it has to be! As I walk through the city streets, these frightened people watching me pass; there is an evil that holds them here, yet they won't try breaking its grasp. But if I stay here with you, then I will leave them to their doom."
"Do not say this is how it has to be... You do no better than the fools of this burning city."
You stop running. 
Your path had led you to the grave of your brother. Behind you, men began to gather while you stood silently, reading the wards your father carved into the marker.
"You have heard me tell this story."
"Even here it is not safe."
"Many times before you sleep."
"Even this grave has been defaced"
"No matter how dark this city gets."
"Someone has written on this stone"
"Even now, there is hope for man."
"In some angry hand."
You feel your fury mount. "Hope rides alone!"
The men behind you gasp at your outburst, you turn to them and shout with wild eyes.
"Hope rides alone!"
You had to defeat him. You had to free the world. You had to avenge your brother.
"Hope rides alone!"
The buildings fly past now. You rush towards the fortress, towards your fate.
"Do not say this is how it has to be..."
Metal loudspeakers mounted on the stone walls are now humming, chanting words to settle the commotion you created. Words to quell a potential uprising. Words to inspire fear. Words to drive back the freedom that is within the grasp of a single angry mob.
"You do no better than the fools of this burning city."
"And as I live, there is no evil that will stand. And I will finish...what was started, the fight of Protoman!"
The loudspeaker continues to spout its rhetoric as you reach the fortress.
"We have control."
"We keep you safe."
"We are your hope."
"We have control."
"We keep you safe."
"We are your hope."
Behind you, the crowd gathers, ready and willing to seize the freedom so deserved of them. They begin to mimic the cries of the loudspeakers in protest.
"We have control!"
"We keep you safe!"
"We are your hope!"

-Music-
"We are in control!"
The voices of the men and women behind you carry you forward, urge you to purpose.
You've no fear that freedom is close now. Standing between you and your purpose is a sea of robots, one commanded by one leader.
Not Wily, no. He has no power on the battlefield. This was his second in command, his face shrouded in shadows from the fortress.
All at once, the robots advance.
You dive into it and begin to finish the fight. One by one they will fall, with no mercy or hesitation show. These are machines. They can't feel pain. They can't know what drives you on.
Your rage is lost on the soldiers, your target only the commander. The commander will fall, the city will be free, Protoman will be avenged.
The wreckage you must wade through to get there isn't important.
"Send your armies. There's no man or machine  who can stop me, and you'll soon see. I come for vengeance  for the first Son of Light, and I'm ready, and I'm willing, and I'm prepared to..."
You cut down a line of robots in a hail of gunfire and shout to the commander.
"Send me the best you've got! Send me your strongest machines! The fight my brother fought, here, now, will end with me!
The commander waves his hand and sends another line for you to dive into. They fall like just the rest.
"All you wounded, those of you who can, pick yourselves off the ground. 
You grab the throat of the nearest soldier. "Hurry back, tell your leader you'll need more men!"	
You shout to him again.
"Send me the best you've got! Send me your strongest machines! The fight my brother fought, here, now, will end with me!"
The machines broke against your might like flies. "Is this the best you've got!? Is this your strongest machine!?"
You ready your cannon. "Now with one powershot, you'll see what vengeance means!"
As you neared the gate and the leader of the army, your fury yielded to confusion. 
This commander was no mere machine.
"The shadow, it covers your face but your eyes shine just like mine. Step forward, step into the light if you're ready, and you're willing, and you're prepared to fight."
You sweep your hand in front of you.
"So be it, send your armies! There's no man or machine who can stop me, and you'll soon see. I come for vengeance for the first Son of Light and I'm ready, and I'm willing, and I'm prepared to fight!"
"Send me the best you've got! Send me your strongest machines! The fight my brother fought, here, now, will end with me!"
You gesture to the broken army. "Is this the best you've got!? Is this your strongest machine!?"
You ready your cannon once more.
"Now with one powershot, you'll see what vengeance means!"
Just before the shot rang out, the shout that would end this battle, the commander stepped into the light.
H-his face...
You had seen it before, in visions and dreams.
This was not the face of evil. This was the face of a hero. This was a face of a son. This was the face of your brother.
This was Mous.

-Music-

-Mous PoV-

Anon dropped to his knees and lowered his weapon, his eyes taking in the sight of you leading Wily's forces. Dr. Light, your old quivering mule of a father who had let you die, steps out of the crowd quietly.
"You're trying to understand." he says. "I told you your brother had been killed. Yet, here he stands in the very shadow of the man you came here to destroy."
He looks at Anon in shame. "You came here to avenge his death. You came here to save mankind. You see now, you cannot do both..."
Anon's eyes raised to meet yours. You meet his stare, keeping it only for a moment, before turning your hate filled gaze onto the bloodthirsty crowd.
"Tell me now." 
"Is there a man among you here? Is there no one who will stand up and try to fight?"
You jam a finger in their direction, causing them to step back. "Tell me Man! Is there not one in all your ranks? Is there not one who values courage over life?"
You turn your attention back to your brother.
"They looked to me once. Now they turn to you." Do you understand now? Do you see that the truth is they don't want to change this? They don't want a hero! They just want a martyr, a statue to raise!
You clench your fist in rage at the thought of these sheep. "I've given everything I can... "
You meet Anon's gaze and shake your head. "There are no heroes left in man."
"So it begins!"
You hike up your shield.
"No matter which one of us lives, the ground we're standing on will crack and blow away...And you will fight! But when you fight, you'll fight alone. And in the end you'll see there was no other way."
You point at Anon with your gun arm.
"I've been here before. I've stood where you stand. They called me their hero, The Hero of Man. But why should we save them when they stand for nothing? If they deserve life, LET THEM STAND FOR THEMSELVES!"
"We've given everything we can! There are no heroes left in man."
You shake your head and spit. "They'll watch you die to save their lives! They will not stand here by your side!"
You look across the crowd and meet eyes with your father. To any looking, your face would have changed imperceptibly, nothing but your eyes.
You leap off the shattered robots and land in the midst of what's left. You smash a remaining robot with your shield and send him flying into the ranks. Two, three, four robots fall under your blows as you destroy your own troops to make your way to the front of the line.
When you get there, you stand alone in front of Anon. Maybe you could still convince him...
"We've given EVERYTHING we can. There are no heroes left in man!" 
You spin up your weapon and raise your shield.
"So let them watch as we decide the very fate of all mankind!"
The air, choked with smoke, blankets the two of you. You make no move, but stand at the ready some distance away. Anon struggles to grasp the truth of the situation and rises to his feet. He lifts his weapon hesitantly and locks eyes with you before breaking free yet gain and searching for your father who's eyes are planted at the ground.
He can watch no more while the crowd watches with fiery intensity. His eyes fixe once again on you...
And his weapon drops to his side.

-Music-

-Anon PoV-

The cold light of the street lamps illuminates your battlefield as you stare down Mous. This was your brother and you had to kill him to save these people but...did they deserve it?
Why were they more worthy than him.
"I will not fight you!" you say. 
"You have no choice." he answers.
"I'll stand beside you!"
"I stand alone."
"You're still their hero!" 
"Then they are fools."
"This cannot be the only way!" 
"You will see."
You shake your head. "They don't deserve this!" 
"When this is through,"
"Now more than ever," 
Mous jerks his thumb down. "Mankind will fall."
"We are their hope!" 
"They would not stand."
"They know no better!" 
"They would not fight."
"They are not ready!" 
"They never will."
"Even now there is hope for man!" 
"My father's words!"
"Your father loved you." 
"He still believes?"
"His heart was broken." 
"His only weakness."
"His greatest strength!" 
"Now we shall see-"
"You are not evil." 
"-if they will stand-"
"You are not broken." 
"-beside their hero."
"We both know they'll never fight!"
Mous raps his gun on his helmet. "You finally get it. There are no heroes. Mankind is doomed."
Mous jams his gun arm at the crowd and points to each and every one of them. "You will never have another Hero! You will never have another chance! You will fall because you never tried to stand for yourselves!"
The crowd looked at each other before looking back to you, stomping their hooves. Their voices overlapped into a maddening drone.
"Destroy him!"
"You can save us!"
"Destroy him!"
"You're our only hope!"
They finally settle on one phrase that rouses you to action, just to get it all to end. "KILL PROTOMAN!!!"
There were none who saw the blow, only the blinding light that followed as the Sons of Light rushed one another. The crash was deafening and when it dissipated, the two of you stood feet apart, both of you in pain...
...But only Mous fell.
His knees hit the ground, then his weapon. Before he could fully collapse, you were at his side. The two of you embraced.
...Mous was dying, nothing could stop that.
He strained his neck to turn and look at you, his eyes becoming blurry as he tried to speak. Nothing comes at first, until he summoned all his remaining strength and whispered into your ear.
"If these people...tell this story...to their children...as they sleep...maybe someday...they'll see a Hero...is just a man...who knows he is free..."
Mous's hand drops from your shoulder and hits the ground.
...Protoman was dead. The crowd seemed pleased.
It was then that you finally understood.
"...There are no Heroes left in Man." you whisper.
The crowd slowly seeps forward, encircling the two of you and looking down as they attempted to justify what you'd just done.
"He could not save himself. How could he save us? For all the blood he shed," 
"As I live..."
"Your brother failed us." 
"There is no evil that will stand."
"There's nothing you could do." 
"And I will finish..."
"You had no choice." 
"what was started:"
"Why do you cry for him?" 
You crane your neck up to the sky and shout "THE FIGHT OF PROTOMAN!"
"You are our hero. You are our hero!"
You lay your brother to his rest and rise to your feet. You had only one thing to say to this crowd.
"You are the dead."
The body of Mous at your feet, you remove your helmet and walk through the crowd away from the fortress and to the edge of the stage. The robots, those left, looked at their fallen leader and then at you. With no orders, they would not move.
With eyes full of rage, you looked over the whole of the mob and lowered your head. Slowly, your battle-scarred helmet slipped from your hand and hit the ground. Wily stood high above the robots and the set itself, high above the crowd and the audience, and high above the broken heroes. With a wave of his hoof, the robots had their orders.
The robots marched on the crowd and began to punish them for their rebellious thoughts. Men fell in waves, those most eager to watch the shedding of blood first. Neither the sounds of the marching nor the screaming caused you to turn. Nor did the sounds of children crying for their parents pull your gaze from the edge of the city.
The one sound that caused you to pause and look back at the burning city was the voices raised over the din.
"We are the dead...We are the dead... We are the dead..."

-Music-
You ran backstage and met with Mous and the other actors. You clasped your hand with your "fallen" brother.
"Still slow on the draw there, Anon." he said.
"Oh and your song wasn't melodramatic as all hell?"
"It's the only one I get! I wanted to make it count."
You roll your eyes as the other actors run out to take their bow.
"Luna apparently left a message during the show man, she wants to talk to you about something later."
That's new...at least during the show.	
"What about?"
Mous shrugs. "What do I look like? A mind reader?"
Your ears perk up as the song continues. 
"We should get out there."
Mous nods. "Yes we should."
Mous runs out onto the stage ahead of you and joins the actors.
When you follow, the applause is so loud that you can barely hear the narrator shouting "MEGAMAN!" as loud as he can.
The cast waves and greets the crowd as Key Grip comes out from backstage. "Thank you! Thank you, everypony! We thank you all for coming to this play!"
He looks up at you. "Nice to finally have some new material, eh Megaman?"
You nod. "I -did- get tired of dying so often."
Mous elbows you. Grip chuckles. "Have you anything to say to the crowd?"
You grab the microphone. "In fact I do."
The crowd ceases it's applause and looks forward in silence. They are left wanting as the lights go out and send the stage into pitch blackness, with only your voice coming through.	
"Game over."