It's always been on my mind...what it means to be born with weapons in our hands. I haven't found the answer yet, but with the powers I've been given, I will crush all villainy. Apartment: District Epsilon Equipment: A bin lid & Proto Buster Powers: Can copy two abilities from enemies a day, though their use will be exhausted after the fight.
Well, if it was a matter of being alone, she wouldn’t be here to begin with. But again she refrained from voicing this thought aloud, instead giving a noncommittal hum. “I just… Needed a little rest.” Silently she regarded him as he seemed to relax, his speech coming a bit more naturally.
"… So you could meet other people, I take it?" She couldn’t see any other benefit of coming alone, or why even bother at all? Of course, there was the possibility he came to meet someone for… ‘Other reasons’, as she have heard some were wont to do, but… Somehow, she got the impression that wasn’t his goal.
"How is your impression thusfar?" She asked, making a light waving gesture with her hand, to indicate she had meant the party in general.
Proto Man paused for a second, trying to process what this person was implying. 'Meet' people? What on earth were they referring to? Proto man didn't plan on meeting anyone here, that's why he came alone after all... In fact, the only reason he really came was because he wanted to see what a real ball was like. His reponse to this line on enquiry was a firm, "No." before moving on.
"My impressions...? Let's see; the music is terrible - I prefer jazz, it's easier to feel the passion in the playing, the food is purely decoration for me, and as I came alone I cannot take part in the dancing without looking like a complete fool." He stopped for a second, peering at the crowd just over his sunglasses; "But this place has a good atmosphere. Yes, those are my impressions."
He leaned back, trying to relax. His actions and posture were still stilted, unnatural; not only because of how awkward the scene was, but also because of how he was constructed. Parts of him were too uncanny; from his posture being just too perfect, to his hair looking just slightly too synthetic. As he stood there he conscientiously tried to hide tell-tell signs that he was all too aware of - keep the conversation flowing so they had less time to focus on him;
"But what of yours though? You've been very silent and passive, even before I came to talk to you. And you stuttered slightly when you said you needed a rest, is the party testing you that much?"
True, she didn’t particularly want to keep this conversation going for too long, but Naoto couldn’t help but feel a small tinge of guilt as she saw the other sheepishly shy away from her, obviously a bit off put by her comment. It wasn’t like she wanted to be rude, either.
"No, no, you’re right. Most would normally conduct themselves as such. I’m just… Not the best at casually conversing with others." Her expression softened a little. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you."
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to socialize a little bit. After all, what other possible benefit could she gain from letting herself be dragged here? Besides, judging from the way the other spoke, he seemed to not completely have a grasp on such socialization either… It was sad to admit, but perhaps that would actually make him easier to talk to.
The robot calmed down when he heard Naoto explain herself a bit to him. He stopped and turned around on the stop, a very faint smile on his lips.
"Ah, I see. Sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that then." he nodded understandingly, realising that the stranger wasn't as harsh as he previously thought. He was quite surprised to see a human who wasn't much of a conversationalist, the few humans he met had either been quite headstrong professors, or young children - they weren't the type to shrink in a situation
Proto Man leaned against the wall once more, his posture much more relaxed than last time; "I take it you're taking some time away from them then? Or perhaps you lost them in the crowd? It's my first time being in one of these mansions... I'm glad I came alone really."
Of course, for the robot being alone was the only option. He had rarely spoken to anyone since coming to Hive - but even then friends back home were non-existant. It was how he liked it; acquaintances were far easier to deal with.
Naoto glanced up at the man addressing her. Chestnut brown hair and dark shades concealed most of his face, aside from the neutral frown on his lips. She raised a single eyebrow, regarding him with a guarded curiosity. For what purpose did he feel the need to come over and initiate a conversation with her? Did she really seem so miserable that it called for individuals to go out of their way to make small talk with her?
Annoying the small tinge of annoyance at his remark (it wasn’t particularly his business after all), she simply opted for a neutral response.
"Actually, did come with several friends. I’m simply taking a small break." Well, ‘small’ wasn’t exactly the correct word, but that didn’t really matter in this conversation. "Did you need something?"
"Do I need something? No, not at all... I merely thought that talking to other guests was a part of the event..."
The robot trailed off as he begun to fumble to find the right words. He had was always believed that mingling with fellow guests was considered the norm at gatherings, but was he wrong? Had he offended this person in some way? Their tone and facial expressions confused him, the robot could never quite get social situations 'just' right.
He took a few steps away from the other partygoer and dragged a hand through his hair as he finally found the words he was looking for.
"But it seems I've misinterpreted the norms of this sort of gathering entirely... Forgive me, perhaps I should leave now."
Soon enough, the evening of December 14th had come, and with it the much anticipated Winter Ball. As the days preceding it drew to a close, Naoto had eventually come to terms with the fact that her attendance was unavoidable. It still wasn’t an event that she was particularly looking forward to, but even she had to admit her attitude had been… Rather petulant. Thus, after going out and renting appropriate attire, she decided to at the very least humor her friends for at least an hour or so.
With that resolution in mind, she went along with her group of friends with little to no complaint. (Not that it would make any difference if she did, she was certain Chie was about ready to drag her.) Conversation along the way had been pleasant enough, almost enjoyable, even. However, when they actually arrived at the mansion, any shred of that enjoyability left in an instant.
As expected, the ballroom was packed almost to the brim with attendees, many actively participating in the festivities Some… Significantly more enthusiastically than others. Honestly, it was rather stifling. She had never done well with large scale events such as this, and it wasn’t long before the desire to leave set in.
Still, she kept her complaints to herself, taking time to walk around and spend time with her friends, but after the first half hour had passed, she slipped away from the group before anyone could goad her into dancing.
The table that offered refreshments still had quite a few people hovering about, but at the very least there was room to breathe. She stood against a wall, eyes absently staring at the drink in her hands. After the first sip, she could immediately discern it as an alcoholic beverage. Although, she supposed that didn’t really matter here, underaged or no. With a sigh, her gaze wandered around the room and the large crowd inhabiting it. The all-too familiar sensation of feeling horribly out of place washed over her.
The earliest party Proto Man remembered was his unveiling. A media affair where he was paraded around as the "next bridge between humans and robots". There were more cameras than dancing, but the general idea remained the same. He could not eat or drink what was on offer there, and could not join the activities.
So there the Robot Master was, wearing a white shirt and red waistcoat to match; his trademark ragged yellow scarf tucked in as a makeshift tie. In all honesty, colours aside, it was not much different from what he usually wore on the street, but the quality made it much more pleasing to the eye. The amount of starch in the shirt made it difficult to move in, but it wasn't like he could do much about that. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to dance anyway.
Scanning around the room showed him all sorts of people dancing and enjoying themselves, but for the life of him the robot could not understand why. After all...
"This music is terrible..." he mused under his breath.
Turning to his left he noticed someone saunter up to the wall and lean on it. They had a drink in hand, a scan showing that, despite their age, it was alcoholic. People can be so stupid sometimes... Despite this, Proto Man was far more drawn to the almost depressed look on their face. He sidled up to the stranger, pressing his forefingers up to his shades.
"From what I understand about these sorts of events, standing in the corner looking miserable isn't exactly the point. Don't you have someone to enjoy yourself with?"
Meeting her made him glad to be alive? What an odd thing to say. Although his comment of being a robot had caught her by surprise. He bared no resemblance to anything mechanical from what she’d seen. He looked almost the same as any other hume. For the first time since she’d been here, Fran found herself actually interested in one of the people of this city.
"You say you are a robot? You do not bare the appearance of one. Is there a reason for this?"
Proto man slipped off one arm of his coat and begun to unfasten the cuff of his sleeve; as he pulled back the fabric, one could see that his arm was made of flesh coloured panels, a slight whirring could be heard if you listened close enough as well as his body moved.
"I was designed to bridge the gap between human and robot. Or perhaps, my creator just wanted someone to look like a son... It doesn't make much difference I suppose, either way, I'm programmed to mimic humans as much as possible."
The robot quickly begun to redress himself as he changed the topic of the conversation; "I have to admit, you're the one that's more interesting to me right now. A being that you would be considered quite mythological where I come from. May I ask your name? I am currently called Proto Man."
She had gotten used to such remarks by now, but this was the least offensive way someone had gone about addressing it in this city so far. Although, the word ‘creature’ wasn’t exactly what she had desired to be called.
"I am a Viera. A race native to my world alone, I suppose."
By all means, Proto Man meant no offense. But the fact that he had rarely interacted with most people, and that his responses were programmed meant that when he saw something not of his sphere of knowledge he simply had to fumble and guess his way through.
"Heh, well then, I consider myself lucky to finally meet one then. I've only ever seen humans and fellow robots before, so meeting something that fits into neither category... Let's just say... it makes me glad to be alive."
"I think the bigger contradiction here would be you, wouldn't it? I've been here for a few months now, and I've never seen a creature look even close to you."
There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.
The gramophone came to life as the needle hit the record. A familiar sound to the Robot Master, one that he had heard many times a life ago. This went beyond mere familiarity however, as Proto Man felt a surge of nostalgia from the scratch of the needle and the muffled sound of the gramophone horn. He was here. The place he once called home.
The helmeted robot turned around in an attempt to go back through the doorway, whatever the scientists had planned it wasn't going to be something Proto Man cared for. Curiosity had brought him through the portal, and now that it had been sated there was no reason to stay.
"Ah, Blues my boy! You're just in time! Where on earth did you run off to?!"
The robot's movements stopped at the sound of that voice, his optics begun frantically searching every corner to see where it he was. Suddenly, from a neighbouring room the gentleman appeared, carrying what looked like a cooked turkey. Proto Man balked at the entrance and crossed his arms.
"Light."
The elderly gentleman waddled into the room, trying to avoid getting his thick beard onto the meal he was carting around with both hands. He looked at the red robot and gave a friendly, fatherly smile as he spoke once more.
"Now, now! How many times have I told you? You don't need to call me 'Light', or 'Doctor', or anything like that! Why not try... say... 'dad'?" He coughed, and let out a nervous laugh as he sat the centerpiece down onto the table; "But I'm glad you're appeared! I was worried I'd have to go into town again and cry out for you. Where were you this time: the music store again? Or maybe you ran off to finish viewing the museum? You should have asked! I really wanted to go see the rest of the Renaissance exhibit with you..."
He coughed slightly as he placed the food onto the table, beckoning Proto Man to join him. The robot complied without a word, noting that there were two places prepared.
"Do you have a guest?" Proto Man asked, the snark in his voice obvious.
"A guest?" the scientist replied, "No, there's just the two of us, but that's good enough for me. It's the first time we've ever done this since you were created so I thought it would be special... Some of the food I created you can eat. You know, as a family."
...
The robot was confused, the man in front of him was without a doubt Dr. Thomas Light, his creator, father, the man whom tried to reconfigure him... But was he the real one?
No, it wasn't possible. The portal was obvious, this was an experiment. The people behind Hive had decided to see what the Robot Master was like in a 'happy' setting, a more happier time maybe? But these memories were always tinged with sorrow. For the first time since he came to this city, the robot lost his stoic look and replaced it for a sorrowful one.
"Right. As a... family."
He'd play along. if the scientists wanted to view a fake family meal then Proto Man would play the fake son for now. He grabbed a knife and fork and looked at his plate. Sitting in front of him was a strange block of jelly like substance, obviously designed to be easily broken down for him to use as fuel. He took the knife and began to cut; before scooping the thing into his mouth.
It was... pleasing to the senses at least. Proto Man begun to speak between chewing and moved to look at the doctor:
"This is rather good Light. I mean, Da-"
He gripped the knife and fork so hard that they snapped due to the tensile strength. Everything had changed, cutlery had become tools, the pictures and plants scattered around the room had changed to spare parts and schematics with 'BLUES REDESIGN' mockingly written on them in bold. The slight warmth that Proto Man had felt just moments ago had been replaced by the one thing that he feared his father would do to him - the reason he left. He spat the food out immediately.
What happened next was surely natural. The robot easily picked up the table and threw it has hard as he could into the nearest wall. The chair he was sitting on was smashed into the ground until only fragments remained; but it didn't end there, the robot proceeded to go over every single item in the room with unnatural precision, until every paper was shredded, every part was rendered unusable.
It was the scientists' fault. They pretended to give the fake being something to be happy about, they trampled on his memories - even the bitter ones; they rolled out a red carpet then set it on fire.
HOW
DARE
THEY
He stopped, the room trashed beyond belief. Proto Man's pose was upright and perfect. He was a machine. Breathless. Emotionless.
He moved trough the portal and found himself back in one of the street of Hive. He walked for a few metres, not caring which direction. As he passed a window he looked into the reflection and saw the one thing he wanted most of all, even after that:
