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
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
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
Twelve years Light worked and on a cold night in the year 200X, Protoman was born
A perfet 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
Cutman
Gutsman
Elecman
Bombman
Fireman
Iceman
Proto
Fireman
Attack!
Fight
And as the smoke cleared
Wiley rose above the countless robots remaining
Protoman was wounded, low on energy
Struggling to remain standing as Wily ordered the final attack
The death of Protoman
The crowd had gathered there to watch him fall, to watch their hopes destroyed
They watched them beat him
They watched them break him
They watched his last defense deployed
There was not a man among them who would let himself be heard
But from the crowd, from the collective fear, arose these broken words
We are the dead
We are the dead
(What have we done?)
We are the dead
(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
We are the dead
