Lines of orange poppies were trampled as Crashman ran. Head pointed up, happily chasing the airplane that his brother (Airman) was flying out on another job. The late afternoon sun made him squint, and he didn't see the rock under his feet until fell down hard. After a moment of trying not to swear, he stood up, many of the flowers clung to him.
After some brushing off with his drills and a quick assessment,no damage was done. He turned around angrily, ready to blast that rock to high heaven anyway. Wait, that... didn't really look like a rock, it was too... square? Scooping it off the ground, the first noticeable thing was the word "Journal" embossed on the front. He let the book fall open in his drill-hands, expecting blank pages- but no, there were words and pencil sketches inside! Crash immediately shut the book and looked around cautiously, but no one was there. The plane had already left. It didn't matter much right now anyway, he was only chasing it for fun. He moved over to a small hill of dirt that the poppies had apparently been too afraid to grow on, and sat down to read, frustration with the fall forgotten.
There was no introduction, the book simply started with a carefully drawn chart: "Edible plants" and "Do not eat". Each listing had a little picture drawn next to it. Crashman looked down the lists, but he only recognized blackberries. Not surprising really, the only one he knew that would know that much about plants was Woodman. Maybe this book was his? Still curious, he turned the page. The next page showed a crude map of the surrounding area. It stretched remarkably far in some directions that Crash had never bothered (or wasn't allowed) to go. There were some markings too, but he didn't recognize any places. There was a note in small letters at the bottom: "In case my memory fails me" He paused for a moment, robot memory banks were not known to fail, so... maybe this was a human diary? The thought sat wrong with him though, the writing looked too neat for a human.
The next two pages contained a drawing of a pond and a list of books. He didn't recognize the pond, but it was a better drawing then he could do. The book titles all seemed boring, a few of them were in Crash's data banks as "Old classics". A few had been checked off, and had little reviews under them. He took a sample: "Moby Dick (checkmark) boring as hell, don't like whales anymore." "The Giver (checkmark) better than I expected" "An Abundance of Katherines (checkmark) favorite on this list, still not my favorite book though..."
Everything was so carefully catalogued, whoever lost this book must be sad about it.
More page-turning revealed sketches- landscapes and small rooms and sheds. But one page caused him to stop short. A replica of Wily fortress stared up at him from the page in all its skull-shaped glory. He stared back, speechless. How had anyone gotten this close to the fortress without confrontation? Was this really the journal of a Wilybot? But no one he knew was allowed to go much further than himself, and the map went way further than that!
It was a mystery he couldn't seem to figure out.
So he turned another page.
No wilybot besides himself (One time) and the spybots had ever been that close to Light labs and- wait, he could see a tiny penciled dog in the yard, Rush, right? It seemed to be playing with a girl... Roll? That had to be Roll. Weird, no spybot would bother to draw in that much detail, not if they were supposed to be spying on Dr. Light...
He turned the page again, and it was the last one besides the back cover. A note was written on it: "Dear siblings, Never do what I did."
And that was all. Crash flipped back through the pages, looking for further clues but... he found none. He should take this back to the fortress... right? But maybe it was left here on accident, and he did want the owner to find their book again. He placed it down on the hill where he'd been sitting. The sky was growing orange, and his brothers would be worried about him.
Hours later, a stranger walked into the field, searching for something. They pick up the journal and sigh in relief. The book is flipped through, and something new is noticed under the light of fireflies: a childish drawing of a poppy on the last page. The stranger smiles, and closes the book.