Bewildered, Bass stood stiffly in the middle of Wily's lab. The reploid project was coming to a close, and final instructions and questions flew thickly through the air.

"Robotic heart is functioning at 100%, and circulatory fluids are being distributed as needed."

"Titanium X armour has been forged and donned."

"What colours were chosen for the armour?"

"Red and grey are the primary colours of the protective gear. It also sports gold trimmings."

"Those colours suck."

"Hey listen me bucko, if you're so hot, why don't you haul butt down to Robot Depot and pick out the colours yourself?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Okay! The arm cannon is in place. It should correspond with the reploid's battle programs.

"Bass, Shadow Man just said that my mother was a tuna can. Do somethiiiiing!"

In response to this desperate plea from his hassled underling, Bass merely cracked his knuckles. The clamour that surrounded him was both terrible and glorious. Terrible in the sense that it was annoying, but glorious in the sense that, as every second flew past, Alex grew closer and closer to becoming a reploid. Bass walked over to the construction table to see how his baby brother was coming along. Fire Man was there, dully gawking at the reploid before him. To the pyro, it was obviously little more than a heap of metal and wires, while to Bass, it was life beyond his own , and for that reason the crimson figure before him was more precious to him than anything else in the world.

"Amazing, isn't he?" Bass whispered in an awed voice as he stood beside Fire Man. His eyes were alight with admiration.

Fire Man jumped at the sudden sound of Bass' voice. He mumbled his agreement as he gazed at the stoic face of the reploid beneath him. "Yeah, he's okay, I guess." Fire Man paused. "Uh..can I like, set him on fire or somethin'?"

Bass' jaw went slack. "No! Haven't you any idea what's lying here before us? A reploid! A member of the perfect species! Evolution has crawled from single - celled organisms in a prehistoric soup to THIS!!" Here Bass jabbed a finger in the direction of the sleeping reploid. "It's only fitting that the 'perfect race' should be a member of the robotic family!"

Fire Man's head cocked to one side as he listened with unwavering interest to his superiors ranting. Then, he responded to Bass with a simple answer that matched his simple mind:

"I like soup."

Bass beat Fire Man severely before he observed the phenotype of his brother.

Alex did not even resemble a human now. He was clad in stunning, streamlined crimson - and - platinum armour. Large speed boots were bolted firmly to his legs. These would allow the reploid to dash at high speeds with the aid of rocket boosters. On the reploid's right hand was a top of the line arm cannon that, when charged, would emit a huge blast of white energy that would entwine around a victim like great serpents of power, and fry the unfortunate individual. A crested helm rested on the reploid's head. Only one thing remained from Alex's human days: his long ponytail, which hung over the side of the table like a golden relic of the past. The reploid still slept peacefully in the untroubled world of his subconscious. Bass regarded the creation with a strange feeling of protective love. The creature would be powerful, but vulnerable. It would be up to Bass to teach the newborn how to use the skills it possessed. This thought suddenly spawned a concern in Bass' mind.

"Anyone seen the Doc? I want to ask him a few questions."

As if on cue, the massive doors to the lab yawned open and Wily staggered through. He looked like a demon from the ninth ring of hell. He had not slept for days, and his hair stuck out of his head like fine wisps of cloud. A wry, eager smile was propped on his wrinkled face, and ambition burned fiercely in his eyes. Bass involuntarily recoiled at the crazy sight.

"You called, Bass?"

"Uhm...yeah. I have a question. Two, actually. First of all, when the reploid wakes up, will he have any memory of his past life as a human? And secondly, how do we get this guy to hate humans and become the destructive, violent little beastie that we want him to be? I mean, humans are generally violent, but I don't think most of them kill each other for the sake of a laugh."

Wily's eyes looked distant. "I'm two steps ahead of you, Bass. I've thought ahead about those problems."

"Really?" Bass said, a trifle bitterly.

"Yes. I was thinking...a reploid is supposed to have a mind that is very similar to a human's, right?"

"So far as I know."

"I want to test that theory. A human can be brainwashed, right? So, if a reploid's thought process is almost exactly the same...could a reploid be brainwashed to change its views on something? I want to try this on Alex. We could get him to hate humans and to forget his past."

Bass' head was bowed in thought. "You know what, Doc? That's crazy enough to work! It would be the perfect opportunity to test out how 'humanlike' a reploid's mind really is."

"Brilliant idea, isn't it. It's like killing two birds with one stone. We should start the brainwashing now, and continue it when the reploid wakes up, which should be very soon. It will be difficult, and it will take time. Now, one question remains: who's going to do the mind - altering?"

Bass grinned wickedly. "You leave that to me."

Night fell rapidly and silently, and the construction lab emptied in a hurry. Once the last bot had left the large room, the doors swept open again and Bass strode through like an ebony god. His devilish eyes fell on his sleeping brother laid out on the table. Besides the monotone bleep of the machines monitoring the reploid's lifesigns, the lab was dead silent. Bass approached the table slowly and circled it once like a tiger shark preparing to attack a helpless boat. Suddenly, Bass dove towards the reploid's stationary head and whispered to it demonic stories of destruction, violence and blood.

The twisted words penetrated the reploid's mind and seeped into his subconscious like a deadly poison. His dreams shifted to those of violence and greed. He could see himself on the streets of some city that his subconscious had dreamed up, as Spartan - cloak coloured figure. He destroyed and murdered any human unfortunate enough to cross his path. With every life he took, his hatred for humans blossomed. Fond memories of his wife, child and former life dissolved as he preformed these acts. He could feel the peoples' fear: to them, he was the wind of death. A deep throated, devilish chuckle sounded from above him. The reploid stopped in his tracks and glanced upwards. There, blocking out most of the blood - hued sky was a cat - eyed, shapeless shadow that was blacker than a starless night. It regarded the reploid and its laugh boomed again.

"Well done! Well done! See the fear that surrounds you and smell the blood that is puddled at your feet. Isn't it wonderful? Do not regret the killing of all these humans: They're dirty creatures that...uh...carry all sorts of diseases and such. But you are a reploid! A member of the greatest species on earth! You were given life to conquer and rule over those big monkeys. Do you understand? Come, awaken, and take your place in the REAL circle of life!"

A huge, black hand groped out of the void above, snatched up the reploid and yanked him from the depths of his subconscious like a fish on a line. The reploid tried to cry out but his breath caught in his throat as he was pulled into a crashing multitude of colours and sounds. All at once, his body and mind became one, and his eyelids jerked open. The first thing the reploid's maiden eyes focused on was a black figure standing above him with its mouth wide open in astonishment. Then, the mouth snapped shut and formed the first words that the reploid would ever hear:

"Zero."