Dr. Wily: Mega Man, sit down. I need to discuss something of grave importance with you.
Dr. Wily: How long have we known each other? 20, 21 years? How many times have you foiled my plans for world domination? Nine? Right, right. And how many robots have I built just to have you send them to the big metal graveyard in the sky? 48? Yes, if you check your sources 48 is the correct number, I believe. And how many of my flying ships have you wrecked, with your Mega Buster blasting my eyebrow waggling self right out of them? I think you see where I’m going with this.
Dr. Wily: Mega Man, I don’t think you realize just how much stress you’ve cause me over the years. I mean, I used to be a successful doctor of robotics. A respected man, liked by his colleagues and known for his crazy antics at the office holiday parties. Look at this old photo of me.
Dr. Wily: That picture was taken in 200X. A lot of time has passed since then, and most of my hair has made its’ way from my scalp to my mustache. The stress… so much stress. Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ve gone to over the years because of my desire to conquer the world? How much time and effort it takes to create eight robot masters, each with a style all their own, find them an area to reside in that matches them stylistically, and how much energy and money it takes to create robot minions that match the décor of each of the robot masters’ areas? I’ve spent billions, literally billions on all of this. Faaar more money than I’ve ever gotten from my robots robbing banks or holding entire cities hostage. And I’ve had to organize a major portion of my operations from prison, thanks to you constantly arresting me. Which I’m pretty sure you can’t do, anyway. I mean, you’re Mega man, not Cop man. But do the police care? Nooo, they’re just glad to have the plant robots out of their city parks, and the knight robots out of their city castles.
Dr. Wily: You’re right, I know I bring this on my self. So why don’t I stop doing all of this? Well, I can’t help myself. I make robots, it’s what I do. It’s lonely work, Mega Man. I build these robots, most of whom are too stupid to even begin discussing nihilist poetry with, and when I’m building them, on the outside I may be saying “At LAST, Mega Man will meet his MATCH!” But on the inside, I know that these guys are as good as scrap metal the second I send them out of the W shaped door in my skull shaped house.
Dr. Wily: Why skulls? I dunno, they just seem cool to me. Yeah, I do put a lot of skulls on stuff. I try to put a personal style to every fortress that I build. I watch a lot of Extreme Home Makeover for ideas.
Dr. Wily: Yeah, that host guy gets on my nerves too. Sigh…….maybe if I wasn’t so paranoid, this would all have been over long ago. Maybe if I’d just learn to trust my robot masters instead of worrying that they would turn on me, I would have defeated you long ago. But I can’t trust them, (I blame my mother for that, but that’s a whole new can of robot worms.) So if I can’t trust them, then what do I do? I indulge my paranoia needs by programming a contingency plan into each group of my robot masters so that should one go rogue, another robot master would easily have the weapon to defeat them. A paranoid need which you have capitalized on repeatedly, you with your weapon mimicry… and your energy tanks… and your robot bird… and robot dog… and robot girlfriend.
Dr. Wily: Oh, she’s your sister? Huh, I never knew that. See, that’s what I’m talking about. You and I, we spend so much time together, and yet we know so little about each other. And we never hang out outside of the office. Yeah, I heard about your party in Dr. Light’s lab. I won’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt that I wasn’t invited. That’s what I’m really getting at, Mega Man. The next time you’re scrapping my robot masters right and left, stop and think about how it makes me feel. That’s all I ask.
Dr. Wily: And maybe invite me to the next office party. I have a karaoke machine.
