An odd peace had descended over the city, and deep within the labyrinthine recesses of a vast steel complex, there was an eerie sense of calm. Long gone were the days of its citizens living in fear of Doctor Wily and his terrifying force of Robot Masters, wreaking unfathomable havoc across its urban sprawl and reveling in their sordid acts, destructive forces of every kind, nature, and element tearing the city in twain, leaving it in desolate shambles for Dr. Light and company to mend.

The colossal construct which spired high into the sky was one of the few among them which had to be blast-proofed, in consideration of its chief resident and his primary means of deterring would-be intruders some years ago. In the present, the majority of it all sat empty. Turrets atop ceilings and emerging from walls sat unused and unpowered, rocketry unlaunched with no intent of doing so in the future; in less pleasant times this area sounded like a war-zone all by itself, and yet aside from wind shear, there was nearly silence. Most of all, the distinct detonations of this area's primary occupant hadn't been heard here in years.

The silence was broken as the large steel door to his room clattered to life, giving a slight rattle as it retracted upwards, receding into the frame until it completely disappeared, a panel to its left which once bore the symbol of Dr. Wily having been hastily removed, now essentially acting as a blue access light which beaconed as the door opened until the last inch of it vanished above you with a clunk.

There was hardly any need to step inside in order to get eyes on him; he'd become so immense that he was readily visible from the very entryway to his room. He'd become profoundly bomb-shaped himself; a somewhat slim if significantly softened figure sporting thick moobs hiding just beneath the upper plating that was his upper half, balancing atop a goliath, bulbous bottom half that ballooned outward below him into an absurdly rotund pear shape; something near a perfect sphere resembling the explosives he hurled day in and day out during the war-torn days of the last era and more of a gelatinous, doughy teardrop some 10 feet or more in width, his now stubby, chubby, waddling legs spread wide apart his enormous expanse.

"Come to visit me, huh?" He gave an unwelcoming grunt, the two small steps he took forward prompting a loud, guttural slosh from his gut that sounded like a rolling tide of custard, what appeared to be a solid ceratanium mass jiggling about identically to organic adipose. His tone was immediately somewhat accusatory, tinged with apprehension. Though his days as a one-robot WMD were over with the offending programming removed, his infamous temper was the one thing that could not be fixed. "You gotta reason coming around here, or are you just trespassing?" His beady black eyes narrowed, doubtlessly scanning you with an extensive suite of highly advanced ocular sensors; what wasn't clear however was what he was attempting to ascertain, or what he was doing with that information.

Being who he was, Bomb Man was intimidating before; though one might find the sheer rotundity of him now to be disarming, the sheer mass of him, which loomed tall and large over almost anyone in front of him wrapped what should have been a purely cuddly, flabby figure nigh-impossible to take seriously back into being a ferocious presence, thousands of pounds of ceratanium glowering down at you as he cast an eclipsing shadow over you.