Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A great deal could be learned from an individual in an interview. Who they are, what they think, or even why they like or dislike something as trivial as the tie worn to the meeting. Other times it could extend into much darker territory: what they'd do to the man wearing it and the prejudices held within. The thoughts and emotions of humanity go hand in hand with the way they present themselves to another. No exceptions taken, no quarters given, and with all lies brought forth to bear. Whether or not they remain ignorant of the sheer quantity of information being relayed depends solely on the interviewer's skill.

In today's case, Godfrey considered himself to be about as useless as the lanyard attached to his now absent press pass. At what point did "overwhelmed" stop being an excuse for losing the cord typically cinched around his neck at all times? His position teetered on the line even on the best of days but some were worse than others. The metaphorical noose tightened further as he tore apart the passenger side's glove compartment. Bracing a hand against the handlebar by the door with each reckless turn, his cameraman a bat out of hell behind the wheel. It didn't give him much time to salvage his own situation.

But hey, at least he wasn't the only one stressed. 

Chasing the lab-destroying "peacekeeping machine" throughout the city hadn't been his first choice for a relaxing story. The chief thought otherwise. Slap together some footage of the devastation and a quick piece in front of whatever building looked the least intact being the bare minimum. Coverage is as coverage does they all three supposed. Not like Tristin and Godfrey could argue. A glint of plastic peeking beneath the paper cup littered floor mat left him giddy. The click of his seatbelt reeling away trailed behind his victorious jeer towards his driver.

"Haha! Looks like you're stuck with me at the conference tonight, buddy. No getting out of filming this time."

Tristin was, in fact, not his buddy. Nor his pal, or even a workplace acquaintance. They rarely spoke more than a few words to each other in a given week. Yet their work was consistently efficient and thus they were paired for just about every assignment. Figures. Still! This pass meant he'd be safe for another day. But strangely the discovery left Godfrey's stomach soaring. Alongside himself as his hair came into contact with the car's interior. A hurried look up above the dashboard revealed not road, but instead a rapidly approaching rubble-filled depression. He wasn't going up, they were going down. Hard.

A vertical descent onto a horizontal plane, as unnatural of an angle as any for their News Van to be at. No time to think, only feel as the finality of the situation settled in with the crack of bones. The heat that flared beneath his skin muffled his partner's yells, all too aware of his pulse in the blissful nanosecond before reality caught up. Shattered glass traced lines of crimson along both their exposed arms and faces as his own unrestricted body launched forward. Over ramshackle gear and out the now piecemealed window. Godfrey wasn't sure when he'd find the chance to start screaming himself. At least nothing quite registered as it should. But like an accordion, the momentum stilled with an unnatural bend in his spine.

Sewage greeted his chin once his eyes finally reopened. Had they not always been open? Exposed earth and sewer pipework cushioned as much of his fall as was feasibly possible. His world, or perhaps just the street above them, continued to shake violently with further impacts. Their van now lost beyond Godfrey's peripheral vision. Tristin would be up and about any minute now to yell at him for ruining their insurance rates. Bastard. Only now did he register though the goosebumps rising intermingled with the slits of flayed skin beneath. Surely the car alarms were responsible for the chills. The blood must belong to someone else. He felt fine. More than that, he felt nothing.

Godfrey would've liked to pry himself off the floor. Truly. So much footage to cover with so little time. He needed to find his press pass too back in the van. But Godfrey's arms simply felt like taking the time off. Given the work they'd been putting in, go figure. The most he could exert was using his inverted elbow as a lever. Flipping onto his back after a minute of calm grunt-work with a wet sludge-filled thump. The sky had grown grey. Tinged with an orange afterglow reminiscent of his desk's space heater. How had they missed any of this? At least they'd been on the right track if driving straight into a building-sized footprint was of any indication. 

The sounds of the cityscape above warped into a buzzing drone, but Godfrey truly minded it little. He'd been afforded an amazing angle that he cursed his arms for not fetching his camera for. Running along the outer edge of the jagged crevice were dozens of people. Human and civil servant robots both all fleeing for their lives back in the direction Godfrey and Tristin rode in from. Their backs to him, faces obscured, he could only hazard a guess as to what they were feeling then. But fear? Fear was a universal motivator and he'd bet the office's next lunch on this being an example. Sure as shit.

That couldn't be right though, he felt. Fear was an emotion long since associated with sentience. Self preservation extending far beyond a series of directives and basic programming. Some of those fleeing aided the stragglers, others pushing and shoving the same as everyone else, but it all combined into a conglomerate of what commonly represented "humanity". Strange that none of the reports that crossed his desk mentioned this. A bit of a thought, that. His eyelids fluttered as his racing thoughts limped to a standstill. Maybe it'd be best left for after his nap. He'd been working so hard.

So hard. 

Unlike the pipe he wished he could feel beneath him. Or anything for that matter. 

~~~

"There you are! Quit being shy now."

There, tucked in the wilted grass beneath his frequently visited park bench, sat his staff badge. Stained with green smudges and cut blades of foliage. Must've fallen out of his pocket when he'd been sifting through his print-offs at lunch. Only once it'd been properly secured in his hands did he consider the notion of a lanyard. For only a moment, really. Lanyards were just a liability at this point. A false sense of security and another reason to faff about. Such a thing could be rectified with one of those spool wire clip-ons. Surely the park office had a few in a bin somewhere. It wouldn't be the first handy thing found in the storerooms.

Not like it really mattered, truth be told. The lack of a dress code meant most folk assumed him to just be another passerby enjoying the weather. Flexing a card or whatnot accomplished very little either way outside of ordering supplies in bulk at a vendor. So to hell with pure professionalism at this point. His employers cared just as much as he did. Godfrey checked off each box of what they'd been hiring for at the time. Desperate, willing to accept minimum wage, and easily blackmailable in case he got rowdy. Of all the nonexistent options at that moment, this was the least detrimental. 

That'd been the same reason they had hired his coworkers too. A public agency staffed with rejects, criminals, and those who simply aspired for little. Or in Godfrey's situation, those who seemed to want for naught. Oh if only they knew. But he kept up with appearances to ensure such a thing would never come to pass. His ID Badge all the proof he would ever need of the effort being put in. State operations with an employee wearing tank tops, khakis, and hiking boots? The buzzcut sealed the deal of painting himself in the role of a burnout a bad day away from turning to the street. So they kept him and everyone else that way. They worried themselves enough as it was with their one-sided competition with Titanium Park several miles from here. Caring simply seemed beyond them.

His first interview though would fix this. All of this. The secrecy, the lies, and the libel pushed out by the media. Godfrey was long since a lost cause in the public's perception. The effort required to mend that issue far exceeded its worth. But a meager ember of hope still lived for the Alpha and Beta Lines. From the simplest of bots to the touring Robot Masters who all faced opposition at every turn. Their emotional intelligence imposing on the borders of what humanity felt comfortable with, the media and boards never failing to take an axe to the advocates. Brutally efficient too at purging dissenters. 

Godfrey had been there once before. Pulled beneath the water for making waves. They assumed the drowned learned their place in this human-driven society. But he refused to stay down for long. He just needed to prove to the masses that their robotic counterparts were truly sentient. A notion to many too dangerously human. So what proof could he present to ease them into such a thing? Simple. At least in theory. For what could convince the population better than the Beta Line's capacity to love? Romance could lure the hearts of even the most jaded as long as he played his cards right.

The complications only amassed themselves from there. As unfortunately for them both, Godfrey's sample size consisted of a singular individual at the moment. A coworker of course. One absolutely smitten with a pen pal they'd been exchanging poetry with for months now. Godfrey being the middleman for this gave him the leverage necessary to secure the interview. But things stopped being convenient there. The Robot Master belonged to the Second Generation. Which, of course, ensured that nothing good would ever come easy for any of them. But by their robotic overlords above, Air Man better live up to his side of the bargain or else Godfrey would break a rake up his robotic ass. 

If...well, if he had one. 

Chapter Text

Subject: Air Man.
Dr. Wily Model Number 10.
Beta Line Robot Master, Second Generation.

Shockingly little is currently known about Air Man, at least according to public perception. It's been several years since the second Wily War so to find next to nothing in official records during this gap was alarming. I thought the same as well. At least until I met him in person. His, deservedly so, infamy from the conflict gave him somewhat of an ego. To be blunt, he's full of himself. A blowhard. Pun intended. But the forced change in directives according to Asimov's Six Laws left him all bark and no bite. For him to wind up working at the Murphy County Park alongside me? It doesn't take one with imagination to figure who he must've pissed off.

The Board, and its subsidiaries, aren't exactly known for their forgiving nature. Reputation of Air Man aside, his actions alongside his linemates did little to help his cause. The Second Generation in particular racked up the highest individually caused body count of the six Wily Wars. The highest count of mass casualties still belonged to Gamma's rampage but that's still documented as a city-wide terror attack instead of another war front. What this leaves me with is a previously genocidal and egotistical wind machine blackmailed into serving as a park custodian. One who adores conversation, reading, and more importantly a particularly mysterious poet. 

One I'm fortunate enough to call my friend beyond all expectations. 

That's my angle in. As difficult as it may be for him to be my first interview, I couldn't have asked for a more apparent personality. No one with any sense would willingly program an "artificial intelligence" like this. Dr. Wily's domineering tendencies have belittled our memory of his engineering prowess but let it not be forgotten that he's consistently compared to Dr. Light as an equal. I covered enough pieces during the first three Wily Wars to be sure of it. So no, Air Man just developed into the role of an idealistic self-absorbed older brother. At least from what he outwardly portrays. 

That sense of something so inconveniently human, along with his romantic aspirations, is hard to ignore. I just hope others open their eyes long enough to see it. 

- The Memoirs of Godfrey Merrick

- - -

"Wait no longer, friend, for I've arrived!"

The scraping of metal plate on a stone pathway stilled his ballpoint pen, with Godfrey paying little mind to the still drying ink. One hand to bind his notebook, the other outstretched to meet the man of the hour. The gesture had been instinctual. Which in his case was purely beneficial. Hard to get the feeling for a handshake when both participant's hands were artificial. With a lazy blink and a put-on smile, Godfrey turned his attention to Air Man proper. Face to face with polished navy steel, an industrial-sized chest turbine, and two ominously red LCD eyes peering down at the hand Godfrey held Air Man's own yellow mitt in.

It was funny, really. One would think Robot Masters would be accustomed to the feel of synthetic skin. Perhaps not so much in Air Man's case though. Godfrey supposed having your head combined with your torso would do away with any attempts to look or seem human. Perhaps this could be used as leverage in the interview. Offering personal information in exchange for an opportunity to dig even deeper. That'd best be tapped into later as a last ditch effort just as a precaution. They'd been coworkers for long enough now that most formalities fell to the wayside. Convenient. 

"Glad to see you made it just fine! Catch any branches on your way in?"

Air Man's immaculately polished chassis answered that question just fine, but the Robot Master's tendency to suck in loose foliage always served well in jest. Or in this case sheepish embarrassment. Averted gaze, loosened grip, and a proud, "They tried! To no avail, of course". He didn't mind the direction taken either way as long as it brought the attention away from his prosthetics. Godfrey rolled his own eyes as he stood up from the bench. Hands free to pull his custom-modeled camcorder from his backpack in preparation.

"You don't mind if I record this, do you? It's easier than taking notes."

Which, in part, was the truth. He'd found that providing his undivided attention helped keep the individual engaged. But he took notes on the footage afterwards just the same. Standard practice, after all. But if Godfrey wanted to have a snowball's chance in hell at bringing this case to a higher level, he'll be needing visuals. His word alone meant nothing to the masses. Even worse than that, the Board stood in his way. The hoops they'd have to jump through to gain an audience alone, well. A problem for another day. 

Air Man nodded, not bothering to answer verbally. As if having to ask about him being recorded was a foolish concept to consider. Figures that the bot wouldn't be camera shy. Preparing his getup took priority now, he reminded himself with a quick tug on his shoulder's now unearthed prosthetic strap from its tucked away slit. He ignored the bot's curious stare. Fastening the external mount's bolt into the adjacent plate in his collar, he shifted his weight to make sure it wouldn't come loose. The weight of the internal rigging alone took a year of physical therapy and adjustment before it stopped affecting his gait. Not even including the camera once attached. 

Godfrey gestured onwards as he finished up shouldering his camera bag. Replacement batteries, notebooks, and the like. He knew Air Man preferred it best to take the lead in where they both walked and what they discussed at least initially. Getting the feel for this Robot Master's approach had taken countless hours over-analyzing their smaller conversations. They'd been friends long enough for him to know much hid beneath that vibrant surface. But to what degree would they both be approaching this interview? Who knew! So thus they marched on into the heart of the park. Idle banter mostly about their hours while he began filming.

Only when the dense, choked canopy above shrouded them both in the shadows did Air Man breach topic at hand. Nerves tainted his normally firm and carefree tone. Perhaps due to Godfrey's unique position of leverage, but that may just be wishful thinking. 

"I'm sure there's much you'd like to ask me. Don't fret! You wouldn't be the first. 

He bit down the ounce of frustration as that telltale shield flew up. Godfrey knew much of Air Man's confidence to be true. But the Robot Master saw to smothering any moment of vulnerability with thick coats of brash paint. Any of the typical questions asked now would be tainted with that veneer. But this was to be expected. Countless of the post-war interviews with Air Man were focused solely on the destruction. The death. Someone needed to hold the media's attention and the wind bot saw fit to making himself the target. Which, in truth, was what brought the two of them together to begin with.

Friends with a common enemy. A unique burden only understood by those in their position. They'd both agreed to never discuss it again. The question that came to mind then spawned from the environment they found themselves in. Giving an emotional thinker, despite all appearances, something to read into seemed like the next logical course of action. Even if it meant pushing into sensitive topics typically left best alone. 

"What does this treeline remind you of?"

The flinch of an unseen blow landing beyond Air Man's guard was barely perceptible. Expectations cracked like an egg, bullseye.

"Excuse you?"

"The forest in the park here. I don't have much of an eye for these things, but I bet you do."

A pointed challenge and an admission of a failing on Godfrey's part. An overstuffed cookie, as bait goes. Obvious to anyone not hyper-fixated on playing defense. Air Man took it in his stride. Planting his mustard-colored boots into the grass a few feet away from the path, he gestured upwards with his arm cannon. The currents coincidentally abiding his wish even without the usage of that central motor. Shadows, warped from the leafy cover, grew and shrank with the trembling overgrowth around them both. Strange to see this was part of the Robot Master's job here. Preventing the death of the healthier oaks by removing nearby competition.

"Well you'd be right. I see so many desperate souls unmoving in their lives. A battle for the sun's attention, pushing away and covering those below to better themselves. Nature is a selfish world where only the strong survive."

"You'd know your fair share of that."

Air Man's jet vents, ripping up the dirt nearby in its gradually increasing vacuum, siphoned in before his cannon expelled a torrent of violent air straight through a particularly dense cluster of foliage. As vicious of a removal as any of the treetops in the unfortunate path of destruction. The blaring sunlight bore through the crowd sized hole directly above their heads, seemingly reflecting a poorly buried anger writhing within his interviewee. His words only further cemented this.

"But of course. My fame was not a fluke."

But the questioning of his fame wasn't the problem though, was it? It'd never been. Perhaps another approach could loosen the truth free from that non-existent mouth.

"Oh we're all aware of that. What were your brothers like, Air Man? Were they among those stuck in your shade?"

Another bout of air threatening to dismount the camera on his shoulders, and another section of canopy freed up for future growth. The labor directed the Robot Master's focus onto something other than obscuring the truth. A fact Godfrey appreciated even if it meant standing so close to a lethal wind tunnel.

"Make no mistake; I soared to these heights for them. Our father expected the best from us. As foolish as his ambitions eventually became, we all desired his approval. When I conquered, we all took part in the spoils. 

Godfrey's whiplash there certainly belonged not to the wind. Approval. Inhumane acts done in the name of world domination, all for the approval of a father figure. He took a moment to push a fallen branch off the path to let himself think on how to proceed. This possibility never came into question before. Perhaps, though, this might just be what he'd need for this interview to ring true. The public still perceived the Second Generation as misguided warmongers at best. Feeding into the truth of the first half might make their sentience more digestible. Everyone at least once in their life wanted the approval of another. Especially from parental figures. 

"Spoils? I'm not sure I follow."

Air Man's response came immediately afterwards. An indignant huff, nothing more. Mournful frustration pointed inward. His back turned to the camera as he directed another blast at a precise angle only possible for a skilled machine such as himself. Whether or not he felt like showing off for the camera or himself had yet to be seen. 

"Praise. Repairs. Time spent alone with him in the lab, or with the others outside of our mandatory sparring matches."

"With you being as effective as you were, did he approve of how everyone else developed following suit?"

The wind previously siphoned inward hissed out of the chest and back vents along Air Man's chassis. Expelled from their internal tank after a moment of unsteady consideration. Even from here Godfrey could see that once steady aim trembling too much to be accurate. This was an excellent angle for the camera. Machines were fallible too when their heart grew involved. Parental, romantic, or even platonic. No exceptions.

"No. I, perhaps, set the wrong expectations. Not all of my brothers were as Quick on the uptake."

"At least they still had you."

As vital of a reaction sadness could be for the interview, Godfrey did actually care about his friend's well-being. Pushing too hard and soiling their mood for the rest of the afternoon felt scummy. Raw coverage would not, and should not, be the end goal for an interviewer. Especially at the expense of someone's mental and emotional state. Air Man appreciated the gesture as well, it seemed, as they spun around and marched a few feet in front of Godfrey. Flickering LCD's recovering from a phenomenon he'd only scarcely heard of. But the receding quakes in his posture told the tale well enough. 

"Hard not to see that as a positive! With me as their idol, they aspired for greater things. Even now they've taken my model to heart."

Which was fortunately true in at least one circumstance: Wood Man's upkeep of Titanium Park kept both Air Man and Godfrey employed. The unhealthy competition the county harbored for the Light's property still astounded most of the public. He'd yet to do much research into the rest of the Second Generation. Bubble Man worked as a Deep Sea Operations and Rescue Diver, Flash Man absconded with the military's R&D Department, and there were shaky rumors that Metal Man and Crash Man were living their secluded lives together. But by all accounts they'd all been happy. Which for Air Man was surely the greatest accomplishment to achieve. 

"What about you? It seems everyone has an inspiration except for you. So what motivates the powerful Air Man?"

"Ah, you already know the answer. Him. The fresh breeze to this old windmill's sails."

Old? Godfrey chose to ignore that, being a minimum of twenty six years older than the Robot Master. He still had a mug twice Air Man's age clattering about in his shack's sink somewhere. The him being referred to though could only be one person. The crux of the situation at hand. A romance born from almost a year of daily back and forth written conversations.

"The Poet, yes?"

"Our mutual pen pal. I finally wrote back to him today, did you know?"

An eyebrow shot up at that. No, he'd been completely unaware. The last time they'd exchanged letters left Air Man in a reflective fit for a week and a day. When Godfrey sat down with the "mysterious" paramour later to inquire, he too seemed quiet. The poem served as a confession and by playing his hand, he'd made his amorous intentions obvious. Quite the risk. It'd not been Godfrey's place to reveal that the Robot Master had long since been smitten, much the same as how it'd not been his role to reveal the identity of their third party. All things would come in due time. Romance as seemingly pure as theirs would not be rushed. 

"About what? If you don't mind saying so."

With his cannon cocked on his hip, Air Man splayed his right hand into the air. Passing each finger through an imaginary concept only known to him. Those eyes powered down in thought leaving his "face" a black mask. His central rotor too spun at a single rotation a minute, creaking in the passing wind.

"My view from the balcony. The stars in the night sky were a loving reminder of the wonders to be found just beyond our reach. I'd hoped to cross that insurmountable distance one way or another."

Godfrey turned to face Air Man fully then. Presented with a side profile. A healthy composition of the bot dreaming of a future unthinkable in the public's eye, illuminated by nature's spotlight. Every day another bout on the stage. Godfrey and Air Man were simply actors built for the pratfall. Over and over again. Good. Let them be seen. For one reason or another, they'll make a difference. Reputation to those unaware be damned. 

"Perhaps you'd rather give it to him in person. Would you like for me to arrange a meeting?"

This was the shot he desperately needed to drive this interview home. Air Man's eyes flickered on with an audible "pop" of static. Reeling back as if on unsteady ground, he brought his full attention down to bear on Godfrey's smiling face. A genuine gesture of solidarity. There'd be no denying that this reaction would make for excellent evidence. More than that though, one of them needed a happy ending. Godfrey felt content with having a hand in flipping Air Man's page. He'd hinted at the possibility when scheduling the interview. It was the least he could do to follow through with his promises. 

One hell of a start, this, he thought as he cut the camera's feed. 

Chapter Text

"Good evening! Sorry to bother you so late, this is Godfrey Merrick with Murphy County Park. I'd called and left a message with Jenny at Reception about two days ago? If you've got some time later after hearing this I'd much appreciate a followup. Either way, thank you for your time and here's to an excellent weekend."

For a place as prestigious as the Light Museum of Robotics, they sure staffed themselves with the lousiest of receptionists. 

But with that, he'd officially burnt up another of his remaining leads. Godfrey pushed aside the battered flip phone across his desk with an amused huff. The setback wasn't able to significantly hamper his progress. Options were aplenty. But, it sure as hell would be enough to irritate him to no end. There were a few smaller hotspots buried within the city but here he was: stuck at the park's Front Office on a Friday evening. Peak casing hours being wasted away on this nonsense. The Reception Desk wasn't even supposed to be open this late. But then again, much about the Murphy County Park disregarded standard norms. 

They thrived off the late day visitors. More like the donations received because of the liberal operating hours, but he'd be at risk of losing his job if he did more than passively acknowledge such a thing. Cleaning up the bottles, illegal mods, and junk from the several hideaways scattered about the park in the mornings afterwards waved off as a normal job responsibility. Typically they both let Air Man tend to those issues as not all of the loiterers left before sun up. No one seemed as keen on shanking park custodians as the addicts coming down from their highs. He'd lost a good tanktop that way. 

All to return on Monday. That was three days away though. The last thing he needed now was to be busy not being busy. Just like this. Covering both his and Air Man's shifts when he still had plenty of footage to review and cut. But a promise was a promise. After another week of ferrying letters between the two soon to be lovebirds, Godfrey finally managed to organize the little shindig tonight. He truly wished his coworker the best. Painful scheduling and all. Expectations oftentimes spelled out the death of a relationship far before it could take wing. Then Godfrey would be stuck listening to Air Man mope about it for another six months. 

Oh well. Far out of his hands now. A quick glance at the clock across the small waiting room told him the night still approached. Slowly. Excruciatingly. Normally he'd use this time to smuggle his laptop into the storage room by now. A mound of forgotten junk surrounded by what'd been left behind by his superiors. Mostly forms, invoices, and slips rendered outdated years before his own employment. But with him being the only worker staffed on this side of the park, staying up front became a necessity. Some folk truly did need assistance. Oftentimes with the pond. So there he sat.

Waiting. With only his thoughts and dry pens on the desk for company. Post-It notes scattered about with callback referrals he never had the clearance to contact. 

Waiting. An idle finger ran across the tip of the jagged cap where there'd once been a clip. Snapped off by another worker's habitual fiddling, no doubt. 

Waiting. He could see the plastic serration and his left hand's pressure sensors told him the surface was sharp. A passive warning of an observable fact. 

Waiting. But to feel it with this hand? Up to his imagination and time. 

The front door rattled open on its bent metal hinges, a suddenly wonderful distraction from the recesses of his mind. The sound brought along its own sense of weight. Without even looking, Godfrey knew his guest could only improve the night's proceedings. The cheap linoleum floor fighting for its life from the heft unique to the Beta Line gave that away. The amount of technical engineering devised for a sentient machine left them bulkier than most. Godfrey knew next to nothing on the internals outside of the memos he'd used to be sent to screen for the station's anchors. A few hit pieces here and there whenever a new example of revolutionary technology had been showcased to the press. 

Fighting like dogs over each scrap didn't leave much time to study the materials at hand.

Going to greet his visitor, he instead found himself puzzled. For standing a modest several feet away was Europe's star clad in blue. A metallic plumed helmet, open-faced visor immaculately trimmed, tipped straight down towards their grooved boot tips. The literal shining knight kept their white gauntlet pressed firmly against the basketball sized flail head jutting from their other arm. All of this seemingly from concern of the floor giving out beneath him. Personally, Godfrey was far more worried about what brought Knight Man to the reception desk of a small podunk county park in the States. That midnight colored heavy plate, adorned with accents of yellow and spikes, never seemed for show. 

But at least this situation would be far from the first. Air Man's reaction to the building's construction rang eerily similar to this. In much of the same away, it seemed this bot too needed reassurance this wouldn't result in another overblown headline. Rampaging Robot brings down state office, one human life tragically lost. Hah! He could see it clear as day. He'd written enough slam pieces as it was on the matter. But enough speculation about an easily avoidable future. 

"Ignore it, it's just fussy."

The pivoting visor brought with it the second pair of crimson LCD's Godfrey had seen this week. Just as unnerving and just as unwavering. But unlike Air Man, Knight Man's voice brought about a sense of calm. A firm sense of self without an overblown confidence, with just a hint of a posh undertone. Echoing out from a speaker hidden within the false darkness of his helmet. Even from here, Godfrey could tell no face sat beneath it.

"Fussy harkens not the word that comes to mind. Worrisome more like. Are you safe?"

He laughed at that, blatantly disregarding the concern in favor of moving the conversation along. Even if the Robot Master's sentiments were legitimate in meaning and legitimate in intention. It felt nothing like the false platitudes he'd heard by those who came before. 

"If this office ever does kill me, it'll be from this wage gap. Was there something you needed?"

Knight Man gave one last uncertain look towards the floor still screaming in agony. Reluctantly he moved on, taking his place in front of the counter jutting awkwardly against Godfrey's desk. Limbs kept by his side probably in the vain hope of not disrupting the feeble balance of another object's structural integrity. His tone portrayed not a single ounce of this. Reserved strength by intention, not by caution. 

"I come before you in the hopes of retrieving my shield. Twas nothing more than unfortunate mishap, really. I'd-"

"Dropped it in the pond."

"Precisely! What clued you in?"

Godfrey put himself through the motions then. He long since stopped keeping the salvage hook in the storeroom. In truth, it only took three weeks of working on-site to realize that Alpha and Beta lines both had this frustrating penchant for dropping parts in the Wishing Pond. Some obviously in the hope to play off the illegitimate name. Others because of some twisted sense of robotic divine intervention sending appendages willy-nilly. Either way Godfrey put up a sign practically begging for them to maintain a minimum of six feet from the waterline at all times. That posting, too, ended up another causality of that demented pond. 

He'd throw himself in there if it meant he too could wish for things to change. But alas he retrieves personal belongings from the water at least twice a week instead. All of which he relayed back to Knight Man with the same enthusiasm as a man trimming his nose hairs. The procedure that follows always played out the same. The bot apologizes for being a bother, he'd reassure them that this gave him something to do and he appreciated the exercise, and they'd wait in the office while he went off to fight the water for the umpteenth time that month.

Only when Godfrey had reached the door with the chain wrapped around his bicep and the hook gripped between his hands did he realize he brought company. Trailing behind him, wide stance feeling like an immovable object claiming the room's attention, was Knight Man. Uttering a seemingly simple, "On your word, we go." That'd been worth a moment of deliberation. He took the time to consider the weight limit on his salvage hook. Would failing to pull out a sinking Robot Master be considered a count of third-degree murder? Technically in part due to willful neglect of park policy?

Fuck it. Wouldn't be the worst thing he'd been accused of.

"Let's go fishing, shall we?"

~ ~ ~

Typically when someone came to Godfrey about this accursed pond, they'd lost whatever they owned on the fringe. The setting sun had cast enough light to reflect off the solid blue shield. Took but a moment to spot. That was enough for the reality to sink in deeper than the metal. The how of the situation fascinated him far more than the why. In the dead center of the pond's bed sat their prize. Perfectly out of convenient reach. Perhaps he should've just brought some swimming gear. 

"This? An unfortunate mishap?"

"Following your lead, sir. You first claimed the floor to be fussy."

Godfrey let the unexpected sass slide and instead focused on the task before them. From what he could gather alongside Knight Man's explanation, the shield popped off their back mount and slid into the water a fair few feet. The very heavy and not waterproof Knight Man, unable to fetch it by any other means, went to reel it in with his flail. An initial survey revealed only destroyed rock and mud. Long channels carved out in straight lines. He must've been at this for an hour at least. Kudos well deserved for the effort. In fairness, the Robot Master's weapon didn't seem built for this type of labor.

That was the excuse Godfrey went with to keep the mood light. Throwing the salvage hook in the growing darkness would only accomplish so much. Seemed that they best get comfortable. After a particularly hefty toss, they both stood on the partly dry land and waited. More like Knight Man waited as Godfrey edged from one side of the pond to the other. Pulling at odd intervals and angles in the hopes to catch hold of an edge on a circular object. His reluctant smile hidden by the growing darkness, thinking on what they both were now spending their time on. Not much to be done about the logic here. 

It provided them though a surprisingly pleasant opportunity to talk. Either put off by the silence or just genuinely interested in sharing, Knight Man divulged some of his current ongoings. He'd sustained the damage earlier the day before. A skillful glancing blow but it'd been enough to rattle the housing clip in his back. The circumstances surrounding it were far from what Godfrey came into this expecting. Knight Man announced it all with a vibrant sense of pride and joy. 

"I've been granted the honor of serving as a House Robot for the newest season of Robot Wars."

They both stopped then. Godfrey, thigh deep in water and mud, clueless and staring up past the pink glow emanating from Knight Man's chest core. Meanwhile the Robot Master simply waited in response. For recognition, perhaps? Validation? Either way Godfrey could provide neither. He scarcely had time to watch shows or movies when work, research, and this project consumed as much time as it did. The silent revelation that only one of the two knew anything of what Robot Wars was settled with about as much grace as to be expected.

Which, for what little Godfrey had come to know about Knight Man, resulted in just a determined nod and a return back to the one-sided conversation at hand. The straight-laced enthusiasm was contagious. No subtle undertones, no double meanings, and no blatant retractions or omissions of information. Simple. 

"Tis for that reason in particular that I remain here in the evenings. Few are likely to crowd and I'm left to enjoy the peace of the water."

"Mhm? Yeah. I enjoy the view too sometimes. You know, from a distance."

"At last he speaks! With a sense of humor too, it seems. I too can appreciate sarcasm. Say! How rude of me! I've yet to even ask your name."

"Hold that thought-"

The chain's slack finally grew taut as Godfrey wound it back. The give felt minimal at best. Prying this out should've theoretically been the easiest part of the whole ordeal. An embarrassing amount of grunting and sinking further into the ground later, he realized there'd be no realistic way to unwedge the shield from the silt below. Could be silt, compacted rocks, or this tar-like mud that'd need to be scrubbed off his hiking boots. All keeping the shield properly well tucked away. The chain used didn't look to be compatible with Knight Man's flail winch. Faint memories of watching the footage for the sixth Wily War graced him with that knowledge at least.

He took stock of his other options. What little remained were swept off the table into the trash (or worse this pond) due to the encroaching dark. Testing his breathing for a moment assured him of his next plan of action. Godfrey passed the end of the chain's length to the now adjacent and perplexed Knight Man, making sure to keep a hand resting on the Robot Master's arm to stop him from doing the obvious.

"If you give that a yank now, you'll probably just snap the links. Keep it pulled tight. If it loosens up, reel me in."

"On your word."

Huh. Not having to repeat himself was new, or not being questioned constantly. Belief such a foreign and startling feeling. A careful pat around Knight Man's shoulder spike later and down Godfrey went. Following the chain's length like a lead into the water's depths. Fortunately for them, Godfrey's body consisted of more metal than most would expect. His bones ached constantly and his spine could be used as a sci-fi medieval war club, but at least it meant he sank. Quickly. Holding his breath and walking along the pond's bottom in the dark sounded like a miserable way to spend the next minute or so.

But as he pushed onward and his chest seized with that telltale stillness awaiting the next injection of oxygen, Godfrey felt happy. This? This he could feel. His closed eyes portraying an all too familiar darkness. As if performing in a dream and not a dozen or so feet beneath the pond's surface. The only annoyance came with his ears stopped up with murky water. That'd be a pain later to clear with his implants. But eventually he reached his destination as his boot came into contact with the metal first. Record speed, too. Should be doable.

The shield weighed enough to almost knock the dwindling air from his chest by the effort alone, but Godfrey wasn't trying to lift it. All he needed to do was loosen it. Wedging his prosthetic arm beneath a portion of the lip submerged in the mud came easy. Feeling for the spot took longer. Using his appendage as a lever only came at the cost of his fingertips. But it and the salvage hook popped up just enough to send a ripple down the chain. The momentum that came afterwards from being reeled in made up for any miscalculation of just how long Godfrey could actually hold his breath. Emerging from the water a spluttering gasping mess.

Unfortunately inevitable either way. In-between coughs, he assessed the condition of both himself and the prize won. A liberal coating of muck slathered the shield, the entirety of Godfrey's boots and khakis, and more importantly his left hand. He typically took great care to avoid revealing its nature to strangers. Hell, thinking about it he'd never even shaken Air Man's hand with it up until their interview. So leaving the damage obscured felt right. Unexpectedly though, the white gauntlet offered down to Godfrey's hunched form tested that time-worn resolution. Even if it'd be met with actual flesh. 

His world still spinning, Godfrey instead held up a finger in the universal sign of "Give me a moment, I may have inhaled a few dozen fish." The coughing that followed of course brought up none. The squatters long since saw to wiping out the water's population. It did give him the opportunity to contemplate the conversation up to this point. That sense of pride in a job, and to an extent recognition of necessary isolation, would be beautiful on film. Alas they couldn't have everything. With an outstretched hand towards the spot they'd previously been lounging at, and the salvage hook unwound at his feet, Godfrey began.

"So what were you saying before?"

"Your name, sir. Although now nary feels more important than the dip you just partook in."

Names. Dangerous things, that. But only to those with the capacity or drive to research. The initiative to delve into someone else's previous life seldom found itself attached to Robot Masters as a whole. Fortunately enough, it seemed humanity hadn't imparted everything that made them human. The concern only solidified the irony there. The disparity between the two of them seemed both so minute and yet so vast.

"My bad. I'd show you my staff badge but I think it's under a bench somewhere again. I'm Godfrey Merrick, a custodian here at the park. Typically I don't make a habit of diving."

"You've gone far above and beyond your obligations as this land's caretaker. Knight Man, honored to make your acquaintance."

Godfrey beat the water out of his ears as they both attempted to wash their tools in vain. Perhaps his descriptor of tar for the mud under the pond's surface had been more accurate than initially suspected. Either way not much progress was made. Only when the sun settled beneath the horizon entirely did they agree to beat tracks back to the office. Discussing along the way all sorts of trivia useless to most. Reflective tidbits and musings of a Robot Master lost in the deceptive ruse of a peaceful county park. Godfrey appreciate the distraction.

For while his thoughts never left the uncut footage back in his shack, enjoying a conversation with someone who knew nothing of who he was left him at peace. Even if he'd been in no headspace to pay much mind to what'd been said. Perhaps if Knight Man agreed to an interview in the future, he'd be granted the opportunity to hear it all again. A stringent hypothetical that'd never come to pass. He'd listen then. Document it all for the world to see. Painting another corner of an incomplete canvas in the colors he chooses. Journalism in its nature was selective. His purpose just came with a singular goal in mind. 

Robot Masters felt a great many things. Whittling down each case into a honed spear to be thrown required the trimming of faff. Enough to keep it lightweight, but still leaving the impact behind the head to drive the message home. Keeping the individualism within the portrayal of an individual sounded like far easier of a task than it actually was. In truth, the media absolutely excelled in leeching the humanity away from any public showing.

~ ~ ~

"Hello Godfrey, sorry to have missed your call. As is company policy issued by the Lights, no interviews are permitted with Museum Staff at this time. Wish I had better news for you. Have a nice night."

He'd known the answer the second he left that first message. But they all needed to engage in formalities. The industry standard sat carved in marble and all fell to their knees before it. Dr. Light and his family were a reclusive lot. An ideal source that distanced themselves from the politics of the ongoing world around them. More than wealthy enough to enforce that anonymity too, given the chokehold he and his company held on the field of Robotics. Prying information from them in the previous years had been akin to drawing blood from a stone. Not that any news agency cared for the difficulty. 

Godfrey flipped his phone closed, voicemail deleted with the rest of the denials he'd received from the other avenues. He honestly couldn't blame their reluctance to involve themselves with another journalist. Reporters of any form were simply puppeteered by the whims of the media, all with an agenda to push. Of course he too approached this with a set goal in mind. That was the very nature of gathering this information to begin with. The companies chosen, the individuals interviewed, and the locations cased all indicative of a bias held. It just so happened that Godfrey's cause would be beneficial in the long run to robot-kind.

Not like he could just outright admit that to them. The reasoning behind each approach needed to vary as to not arouse suspicion. A journalist scrounging around in a field rife with activism would stamp a second brand on his already marred flesh. From there the research would be disregarded and expunged. Not even the Robot Masters could become privy to his intentions. Air Man understood the assignment as an interview of the prestige surrounding his very nature. All too easy for Godfrey to manipulate the expectations to his whims. Keeping the topic as vague as possible gave him the legal wiggle-room to flex when necessary.

Knight Man, attacking his shield with a Scrub Daddy Godfrey found in the office's break room, seemed to fit a niche demographic unsuitable for this. Europe's prize champion offered up in what eventually became the sixth Wily War now hired for essentially a pit-fighting game show (if a quick snoop through the internet was of any indication). That passion, while admirable and very much so human, would only sink whatever case could be built long before the foundation took hold. Violence begat violence. Reminding the population and the Board of the hampered destructive capabilities each Robot Master held seemed shortsighted. 

Combat Sports for humans already held mixed reception within media groups according to sample studies. All conducted within the last year. A shame too, as Knight Man continued to be nothing but a bag of surprises for Godfrey. Either way, not much could be done now-

"Pardon the intrusion, but be you needing access to the museum staff?"

Oh? He'd forgotten how fine-tuned the hearing of most Alpha and Beta models were. Normally Godfrey would be up at arms at having his privacy intruded upon. Here though? This avenue could be of some use. His suspicions stayed on the burner for now, but it seemed Godfrey's confused look across the room only served to spurn Knight Man on. There was a motive here beyond simple curiosity and a desire to help. What angle was he playing at?

"I'm to undergo repairs by nightfall. Surely they'd say yes to my request of company?"

It'd been a well intentioned offer, it seemed. Unfortunate that it would only serve to have Godfrey's name blacklisted by the museum staff if it hadn't been already. 

"Oh I appreciate it. Really, I do! I just don't think they'll change their minds for an interview simply because I'm brought inside."

Knight Man simply shook his head. Metaphorical fire in those red eyes as a conniving lilt infected his tone.

"You misunderstand. Twas never stated your company was that needing to be requested. I know of a particularly social friend of mine who'd spark at the opportunity for an interview."

Oh, that's sneaky. Godfrey's impressed whistle only portrayed an ounce of the astonishment buried within. Rarely was he on the back foot trying to assess a proposal like this. But the wellbeing of the Robot Master came first and foremost. If Air Man was any indication, throwing yourselves to the wolves more often than not resulted in chewed bones. 

"Wouldn't you get in trouble for that?"

Knight Man flipped his mud-splattered gauntlet up, palm now open to the ceiling. An invisible offering outstretched in Godfrey's direction. Just begging for this offer to be taken. The river was now in play, hands kept clutched to their chests. Such opportunities came at a cost. Godfrey long since stopped hedging his bets, so he waited for the twist.  

"Few men would willingly send themselves into the depths for a shield replaced in droves. Consider this recompense my paying of due diligence and respect. Tit for tat. Besides, Elec Man is a harlot for company."

Elec Man?

Oh no.

Chapter Text

Subject: Elec Man
Dr. Light Model Number 8.
Beta Line Robot Master, First Generation.

Dr. Light's first generation are as prodigious as they are ubiquitous. Their longstanding relationship with the public is no small feat in itself, but it does help that they've served as the longest lasting batch of Robot Masters outside of initial prototypes. Their influence can be spotted just shy of everywhere. Civil service agencies, conflict mitigation organizations, to even the more commercial districts. Hell, I still own a Fire Man thermos from a piece we'd filmed with an endorsed firehouse. No generation has been so universally acclaimed as Dr. Light's children. Having a personal hand in those initial depictions, I can confirm it'd been for good reason too.

Much of their well-received nature is due to the initial bouts of coverage we issued of them as a "family" unit. Well, not exactly. More like the timing if we're being honest with ourselves. It'd been so much simpler before. A brief stint during which the concept of a hostile takeover never crossed anyone's mind. The technology too new, the shining luster too irresistible to ignore. No one predicted Dr. Wily's devastating involvement. If the media knew of what was to come, they'd never have flocked to provide such a warm welcome. Many of us were left feeling betrayed. Backs turned only to be plunged into a cesspit of fatality reports, damaged structures, and crazed demands by a dissatisfied roboticist.

Six issued models and two prototypes brought the world to its knees. 

I, unfortunately enough, have a longstanding history with Elec Man in particular. I'd helped film my fair share of interviews and PSA's before the first war. Shook hands and bumped shoulders with each Light, both human and robot. Despite that though we struggled with no one else quite like we did with Elec Man. I'm still ashamed to admit, but it'd been for all of the wrong reasons. Elec Man is zany, skilled, and quick-witted. But his reputation as a flamboyant swinger came from legitimate sources. Our attempts to reign that in during our studio's interviews would be the first nail in my involvement's coffin. The executives were horrified by a man-loving Robot Master.

The media took that washing of identity and ran the country mile. A perpetual and insidiously gradual reduction of their basic rights. The signs were right there from the start. Staring at us through vibrantly hued LCD's. A hidden practice became the norm, and from there it grew into company policy. No excuses can be made on my behalf. I failed us all, humanity and robotkind both, by waiting so long to object. The damage once seemed irrevocable. Not anymore. Hope still exists in the recesses of these artificial souls and I refuse to rest until they rise above or we fall together. All it'll take is serving myself up as the kindling, and Elec Man the spark.

- The Memoirs of Godfrey Merrick

- - -

Organizing the contents of his trunk to look palatable felt like an exercise in futility. The interior looked more like a prepper's wet dream than a freelance journalist's standard carryout. Two boxes of non-perishables, a bugout bag, a week's worth of clothes, an older prosthetic replacement for his arm, his filming kit, and at least four notebooks scattered about in no particular order. Godfrey walked where he could to save on gas. Driving either implied the best or worst case scenario. Today's possible fortune of information could only be attributed to Knight Man's generous offer. In this case, the car felt warranted. 

It did, mean, however that he arrived at the museum's parking garage almost an hour later than desired. Told through text essentially to stay outside and that Elec Man would be joining him shortly. A net positive all things considered given that it saved Knight Man the trouble of having to explain Godfrey's sudden appearance at 11:00 PM at night. Rummaging about, faintly illuminated in the spacious dark, inside the first story of this pristine lot. All overlooking a still thoroughly wrecked scrapyard. There'd been a few reports of a crashed satellite a year prior. Folks had hounded a young Saturn Kyurio as a result, earning the media a blanket ban on reporting. 

Seemed the Kyurio's and the Light's were close. Perhaps reaching out to Dr. Kyurio was in order, a popular astronomer and roboticist. Grabbing the notepad he'd just documented his pre-interview notes in, he sourced a pen and scribbled the good doctor's name alongside the margin. So many people crossed his path on a weekly basis that keeping track felt like grasping at particles of dust in a sunlit attic. Flailing in the air just as helpful as a precise strike. It all boiled down to luck and knowing through experience where the dust settled afterwards. No immediate rush, after all. Pursuing just a headline long since stopped being a goal.

He'd changed into a set of non-pond touched clothes beforehand, along with a pair of riding gloves. The Summer air lacked the bite to warrant anything heavier than a t-shirt even at night. The tanktops were just to keep up with appearances at this point. The graft lines were seamless to everything but touch, so Godfrey worried little. Keeping his fingers obscured a habit of necessity although hiding something from Elec Man seemed unnecessary. Chances were they already knew who he was. That could either make the interview an insurmountable pain or an absolute breeze. All depended on just how up to date the Robot Master's knowledge was.

"Hellllllo? Young blood to Captain Nemo, yoo-hoo?"

Wait, Captain Nemo?

From the opposite side of the parking garage, adjacent to the staff exit, called out a thoroughly blurry figure. But that distant voice was impeccably distinguishable. Unashamedly fruity as experience reminded Godfrey all too much of. Speak of the devil. Pulling his filming kit out of the truck with a grunt, Godfrey slammed the lid behind him. Mulling over his approach while setting up a standard tripod for his camcorder. Only when Elec Man's oversized yellow boots crossed the car's threshold did Godfrey make a noticeable attempt to pay attention. Startled. A half truth, as he hadn't expected the Robot Master to bridge that distance in such little time. 

Godfrey only managed to straighten out one of the three legs. He guessed the reports back from the second Wily War were correct. Quick Man's design philosophy based itself off of Elec Man's model. Inherent speed with an absence of weight that the bot bragged all too much about. Not for efficiency's sake, oh no. Godfrey recalled one of the studio's first interactions: their young receptionist, blushing like mad, excusing himself after Elec Man made a pointed comment about how "being so light came with advantages". Although if Godfrey remembered correctly, those two ended up sharing a bed less than a week later.

Some things seemed inevitable, much like Godfrey's response. No point in delaying matters. 

"Oh! You arrived fast, I'm sorry for the inconvenience with all this. Not really sure what Knight Man told you."

"Just the usual. You know, a park worker who valiantly got himself soaked. But when our friend mentioned an interview? You could bet I made my voice heard. I just didn't expect it to be with one of you though."

Ah, yes. So it begins. Alpha and Beta lines both possessed an eidetic memory. Far beyond that actually, given their memory banks functioned on an artificial scale. Perfect witnesses who could only be capable of forgetting by either willfully deleting an entry or overlooking something in error. No exceptions outside of damage to the unit. So the question of if Elec Man recognized him needed not to be asked. But it wasn't the recognition itself that left Godfrey worried.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? Surprise."

"Mhm, it depends on the surprise we're talking about here. Those chocolates with the cute little toys inside? Sure, darling, but this feels more like last month's emergency repair. Lost my good arm for a week! The boys were furious."

So Elec Man knew him from his previous affiliation with the media. But as reactions go, this was extremely tame. Clearly then that was all the Robot Master knew of Godfrey. The best case scenario given the circumstances. The opportunity to take the conversation by the horns made itself apparent with that pivotal knowledge. Assuring Elec Man of the differences between the past and the present stepped into the sight lines. Tipping the scales a gentle act when dealing with someone as socially aware as Elec Man.

"That's exactly my point, if you'll humor me."

"To annoy me? Weren't reporters supposed to be smart?"

Godfrey gave a soft grin to the ground, hoping to look ashamed and not amused. The practiced movements of securing the camcorder did well in keeping his face hidden. There was a minor joy to be found in irritating others. Came natural with the position. Getting a rise out of your associates and interviewees both brought to light far more information than they'd willing provide otherwise. But sincerity was needed here much more than aggravation.

"I'd been hoping to interview you about your relationships. I get the feeling annoying you is old hat to us, even if I'm not with the news anymore."

Elec Man's surprise was short lived. Quickly taking on a defense posture and tone, already crossed arms pulling tighter with a squeak of rubber and metal. Even from Godfrey's peripherals could he see the salmon colored sleeves twist and fidget in their positions. All across a black chestpiece that should never be hit with a UV light. The lightning bolt emblazoned as a logo over top it all covered up in indignation which Elec Man took short notice to inform Godfrey of.

"My my, that's a first! You want to sit that keister down and listen to little old me ramble on and on about getting railed? I doubt it."

Intentionally crude, a defensive mechanism to hide the layers of disbelief underneath. Godfrey truly doubted anyone up to this point asked these questions in an official capacity. Or about as official as a shunned freelance journalist could be. But he'd not be scared away by such trivial concepts. Not like those who came before. Godfrey stood to his full height, dwarfing the surprisingly short Robot Master by a foot, and honed in on the mask present, Not Elec Man's yellow domino wrapped around those electric blue LCD's, but instead the brave front offered by someone scared of being so harshly judged once again. Of having his identity wiped from the public.

"Not as crude as that, but sure. Whatever you're comfortable with sharing."

Something cracked in Elec Man's resolve. Perhaps from the straight-laced nature of Godfrey's proposal, or from the realization that nothing waited at the end of the tracks here. A few blinks and an open palm pressed against their face later, Elec Man continued. 

"What's the catch? I hate these Monkey's Paw situations."

So the reference before had been intentional. Curious. A silent question was asked between them, of which Elec Man waved off.

"Excuse you, but we're perfectly capable of having hobbies too. So spill."

Godfrey placed a gloved hand on the lens cap of his camcorder, flicking it off with a dramatically intentioned movement. He'd find it later once they concluded their interview. Right now, each action needed to be as precisely catered as possible. Theatrics and all.

"You've got to let me record you. Simple as that."

Elec Man taking no time to debate the offer should have worried Godfrey. No moments of reconsideration, no deliberation, or even anything similar. Instead all that'd been given were beaming teeth and a wicked smile. Frustration a low simmer instead of a whistling pitch. The intentions behind the Robot Master's words set the tone for what assuredly would consist of a long and arduous night. Damn it.

"Hmm~ So you like to play games, is that it?"

~ ~ ~

Godfrey shifted his position on the lip of the wall, a knee-high seat of the smooth concrete barrier. Only a few feet to his right on the same divider, smiling stars into the very expensive and retrofitted camcorder, was Elec Man. Holding it like it was nothing more than a cumbersome smartphone. Probably weighed like one too for the Robot Master. So all he could do was sit, nod along, and watch as Elec Man established just how this "game" would be played between the two of them. They'd yet to start and still the Robot Master seemed to be having far too much fun. That bodes well.

"Alrighty ladies and all the fine men out there, here's the deal! We'll be taking turns asking questions, and whoever taps out has to reveal their darkest secret. Oooh, maybe like a celebrity crush~"

Godfrey cast an eye, fleetingly to the desolate tripod sitting next to his trunk. Waiting to be of some meager use. Ah, the hopes of two fools. Fine. Godfrey would play along. The situation brought along an added sense of risk that could threaten any and all footage recorded both prior and post. Keeping the interview short became a must. Even shorter than his usual standards. IF anything too revealing about his background came to light, then the media and the Board both would disregard anything presented by him as the musings of a potential criminal and a deluded counter-activist. 

With a flourish of a hand, he signaled for Elec Man to go first. Who with an "Ooo, you spoil me so!" formulated the first question. Godfrey could tell from the unwavering gaze assessing his clothes that the Robot Master would be wasting his first opportunity on a common trap. The same so many others fell for. So when the camera panned over to him, Godfrey reigned in his expression to that of a neutral curiosity. 

"So Mr. Media Man, who are you?"

After all, Godfrey was under no obligation to compound on his answers once they were given. The truth, however partial, would suffice.

"Godfrey Merrick with the Murphy County Park. I'm sure Knight Man told you as much."

Elec Man, with a fake disappointed pout, nodded along. Not in acknowledgement of the name. No, it seemed by the predatory smirk that the blinders were off. The Robot Master was a shark on land. Testing the water to suss out just how much blood could be drawn on the next attack. Godfrey shot off his first question without a moment's hesitation as his own curiosity was genuine. Research online could only inform someone of so much.

"To my knowledge, Alpha and Beta lines don't have a programmed sexual orientation. Why is it that you prefer men?"

To Elec Man's credit, he pointed the camera back to himself and answered seriously. Well, as seriously as a four foot tall basket of fruit could. Only so much should be expected.

"Correct! The answer is nothing ghastly, I swear. They just make me feel safe." And with a wink tossed into the lens like a cocked shot fired from the hip, he added, "Plus they've got the tools for my special kind of itch."

Utterly fascinating. Assigned a specific gender a preference was niche enough for a publicly proclaimed artificial intelligence, but applying a comfort bias to an entire subset of individuals was indicative of fine-tuned learning. Beyond any capable algorithm. Godfrey knew painfully little about the specifics regarding the complexities of an Intelligence Control Core. Surely this by itself would confirm that developing preferences went beyond standard programming. How was emotional safety even factored into a line of code?

Elec Man, continuing his role as cameraman extraordinaire, flipped the focus back over to Godfrey. The question that came next would shock absolutely no one. Another wasted opportunity. 

"And you? How do you like your taste of the night?"

"Demisexual Homoromantic."

As soon as Elec Man's expression soured did Godfrey realize the implications at play. All those years ago, in the studio. Frustration sank into what little of the Robot Master's face was visible. Impossibly white teeth gritted in an inaudible growl. Addressing the problem would only careen the interview off course down a mountain of mistakes and into a single telling moment in time. Apologizing only a bandaid on a once festering and seeping wound. Elec Man's words hit an octave uncomfortably lower than the high sassy pitch it usually straddled when in public. 

"How ironic."

Godfrey's next question needed to count. At the rate they were going, who knew what'd come up next from an extended duel. Exploring that sense of safety seemed too narrow focused of a query. He needed something broad, inclusive, and indicative of the defining qualities Robot Masters exhibited beyond the assumption of standard robotics. Perhaps something opinionated would stir the pot.

"From my admittedly limited experience, it seems Robot Masters more often than not lean towards men. Could you elaborate on this as our resident expert?"

During the camera's shift in focus, Godfrey caught the flare of recognition in those piercing LCD's. Revealing how limited his involvement was might net him a name if used in a point of comparison. Hopefully but unlikely.

"Oh so I'm not your first? Shame. Truth is, darling, you're just seeing a pattern where there is none. Some of us like our men, like yours truly or Hornet Man, while others are more conventionally -ahem- straight. My brother Gutsy is such a good example. He could have a sea of twinks crawling over each other for him but nope! Nada, women only for him."

Godfrey's laugh had been genuine then, something that caught Elec Man off guard. He'd been caught in a logical fallacy, one he'd surprisingly not considered despite the opinionated nature. A very fair point. The name though came just as he expected. Writing it on the exposed skin of his knee with a pen stashed in one of his many pockets. "Hornet Man". What struck him as strange though was that he'd never heard of the Robot Master. No coverage from the media either in recent months. As for Guts Man? Well, the fear of being folded in half by the construction foreman nestled into his chest. 

Not like he'd actually be hurt, but Godfrey was weak to intimidation. The threat of injury alone brought up crippling phantom pain. All an assuredly piss poor mental disorder developed from the crash. But Elec Man recovered fast enough to bring him out of the soon to be self-inflicted stupor. Nothing like the blinking status light of a camera and his distant reflection in the glass to keep him steady. Old habits impossible to shake even now.

"Pity, you're boring me. Not nearly as fun as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ruggedly Handsome. The one with the scar on his lip?"

Reigning in the chills that staggered up his right arm and along his shoulders seemed impossible, but Godfrey never let his focus waver from the abyss staring back in the camera. Ignoring Elec Man's presence entirely. This was fine. Just another interview like the dozens that came before. All of them asking him the same questions. Expecting different answers that Godfrey under no means could willingly provide. 

Where were you after the accident?
You knew he was still in the van, right?

He just needed to get through this awkward hiccup. That's all. One question left to ask. The light at the end of the tunnel so blindingly bright. All Godfrey needed to do was derail the train barreling towards his hobbled corpse. Tied to the tracks with millions to review the collision alongside him afterwards. Godfrey faked his silence into that of a pensive thinker, struggling to come up with the name forever plastered across his background. 

"Tristin?"

"Yes! Are you still working with him? Maybe I'll give you a few freebies if you hook me up with his number. Bet he's not always that quiet~"

He knew what it'd come across as on the footage afterwards. Perhaps he'd scrub it clean, or leave it in to maintain the authenticity of the situation. But his own mask slipped. Elec Man inadvertently won the game. For Godfrey sat there expressionless. No humor, no joy, and the complete absence of unawareness. Godfrey's retort was uttered without a single flinch. Unleashing a bone-sapping cold over the pleasantly combative atmospheric rapport he'd established with Elec Man prior to this point.

"He's dead. Died during the third Wily War."

Elec Man's own word afterwards seemed sourced from a distant filter. Distorted with a crackling foreign to the typically so well put-together Robot Master. The face of the Light Family and social media darling crumbling under the weight of what he'd just stepped into. The implications were lost on neither of them. 

"Oh. I'm sorry. I really didn't know, were you two close? Can I ask what happened?'

You couldn't just leave him to die naturally, could you?
Who are you protecting? Answer me!

Godfrey's attention had since turned downwards. His boots were still absurdly filthy. Cleaning them seemed like more effort than it was worth. He'd always felt so tired at night as of late.

So tired.

"We weren't close, no, and I'd rather you didn't. That's four questions."

Nothing but the truth, as incomplete or slight as it may be. In this case not a single ounce could be misconstrued. Elec Man surely would research what'd happened once the interview came to its inevitable conclusion. The ramifications that could bring saved for another time. Instead, wringing one last question out of the night became the final goal. This interview could still be salvaged. Barely. They'd walked along the razor's edge too long, his seams were beginning to split. 

"You joke about sleeping around, and no one doubts you're as active as reports claim. It does leave me curious. You claimed to prefer men both sexually and for their ability to make you safe. With the next obvious step being what it is, have you ever agreed to a committed relationship before?"

The game lost its charm for Elec Man, it seemed. What fun could be had from chasing prey already mauled by far larger of a predator? No sport, no contest, and no joy. The Robot Master swung his legs around to the opposite side of the barrier before setting the camcorder on his lap. The angle pointed out towards the scrapyard, red gloves instead tensing and flexing on the concrete below. Reminiscing. 

"I've tried. Once. Early on, back when we were experimenting with our identities. Dear old Dad made us all unique but didn't put much thought into what our...specialties would result into. I just can't settle down, Godfrey. Every inch of my wiring needs me in motion. From one bed to another. An electric current and I have that in common."

Elec Man gave Godfrey only the briefest of glances, just to ensure he'd been listening, before continuing on.

"It broke his heart when I left. But I knew staying would only hurt him more. Each of us experience love differently. In some cases, not at all. Having a man to come home to just isn't in the cards for me. I truthfully don't mind much though. I'm happy how I am."

Reflexes dictated Godfrey's actions first before his mind could catch up and shout for him to stop. Pulling out from his protruding wallet a freelance business card, Godfrey placed it down beside Elec Man's tense fingers. Godfrey pried the camera out of the still lap of his interviewee without any real hesitation. Ending the footage, packing the tripod, and tossing the rest of his gear into the truck with the due regard. Couldn't find that lens cap though. But as he reversed out of his spot and edged up to where they'd both just been sitting, he felt the silence needed to be broken one last time. All according to proper protocol. Common professional courtesy.

"If either you or Knight Man would like to discuss anything further, I can be reached there. Thank you for agreeing to this."

~ ~ ~

The quiet that followed the drive to the city's outskirts proved to be an excellent opportunity for Godfrey to reflect. So much of the information offered by Elec Man could help bring about tremendously needed change in the system at large. A first generation's testimony for the Board would immediately garner the backing of Dr. Light. That much was certain. Forcing the involvement of someone at that scale brought a weapon to both sides of the engagement. If things were to turn sour, the Lights could scrub themselves clean and wave Godfrey off as nothing more than what the public considered him to be. 

But if they were to gain traction? The widely considered Father of Robotics announcing his support would deal a devastating blow. The damage it'd deal to the media's capability to slander the movement alone could not be understated. If there was a man who could do no wrong in the eyes of the population, it was Dr. Light. Yes. Yes! The risk was worth it. Subjecting himself to questions about his uncomfortable silence and stillness in the footage could be explained away. Many despised talking about death in general, let alone that of a longstanding coworker. Even if it lined up with assumptions otherwise.

Two immediate options stood before him. Each a lane on the desolate road. Did he push to find this seemingly innocuous Hornet Man who the media has yet to even remark on? Potentially the result of a generation wide media ban, perhaps something far more sinister even? Or did Godfrey source Dr. Kyurio's contact information and reach out with this proposal? Either way he needed to step up his pace. Rolling the boulder up this damn mountain a struggle in itself but the last thing he needed were ghosts from the past cutting open his heels.

Eh, first things first: finding a brush strong enough to clean his damn boots. 

Chapter Text

-/-/-

-INCOMING MESSAGE-
FROM:「 DWN-44 CHASSIS, GLOBAL ROBOT ALLIANCE REGISTRY OF ROBOTICS 」

DWN-44: -IMAGE UNABLE TO BE RECEIVED-

DWN-44: Oh dear

DWN-44: Be that as it may, greetings! I do hope I've reached the right man. 

DWN-44: Godfrey, sir?

Me: who TH is ths? Knight man?

Me: its 5 AM. gts

DWN-44: Pardon?

-/-/-

Who flew kites anymore? Glaring down at an equally perplexed Godfrey was a red triangular kite wrapped around a high bough of branches. Judging those below like a paper-thin ruler. Someone, somewhere, crashed this poor thing here and left it as it was. Certainly hadn't decided to bring it up with the front desk either strangely enough. One would think the retrieval of property took priority over whatever embarrassment came from flying a kite quite so poorly. Then again, the kite looked so incredibly full of holes at this point that it'd serve better as a strainer. 

Godfrey stood not in the deeper brush further beyond, but instead only a few feet off an open path. A single tree stood alone. It served as a towering landmark for all those adjacent to stare at or take shelter beneath. The aesthetic looked almost comical. An all too early splash of festive color like a wreath atop its features. Just a half a year too early. That little comparison bothered Godfrey more than it would to any sane individual. He'd always been a firm believer in keeping a holiday in its respective month. Christmas Music in October? Irredeemable mistake. 

He probably should be dwelling more on the sheer length of tree he'd have to climb, but eh.

Of course Air Man, in his infinite wisdom, attempted to rectify the situation himself. All he'd really accomplished was the removal of several branches and scooting the tangled mess of wire and plastic further up. Godfrey sent the Robot Master away after that, dealing a massive blow to that oh so fragile ego of his. He'd be fine as soon as he arrived back at the office as particular Poet had been loitering around the area far more now. For no discernible reason, surely. But in this case it did play to Godfrey's advantage. Other than Air Man's uplifted attitude, of course. 

The next day's scheduled interview aside, Godfrey briefly contemplated using the salvage hook and a stronger chain to mantle on upwards. Knowing his less than dexterous features, he'd more than likely just bonk himself with the damn thing as it whiffed the tree and plummeted straight down. Concussed for ongoing visitors to gawk at. Probably be funny on film though even if Godfrey preferred to not undergo another surgery. Having a plate drilled into his skull from something as ridiculous as a kite and gravity felt utterly embarrassing. As if Air Man would be willing to let that go. 

Metal clomping footsteps approached Godfrey from behind, taking the same offshoot off the path he had. Speak of the devil. Air Man returning with renewed vigor seemed less likely of an outcome. Instead, and significantly more likely, the Poet flexed his influence to try to resolve another issue caused by Air Man's mere existence. They'd taken remarkably well to each other. Given just how much they "spoke" previously in the preceding letters, he supposed it made sense. Godfrey gave his chin graft a scratch in thought. Strange to think he missed having stubble to toy with.

Godfrey popped his back with a stretch and pointed upwards when the Robot Master stopped beside him on the left. A huff, in good humor, as he went to elbow Air Man in the side before deciding against it. He'd done that once before. Once. Only resulted in a hell of a clang and a perplexed Robot Master. Who knew the joke of ribbing someone without ribs would soar above their head? Godfrey now, apparently.  

"He already sent you back to fix this? Wow, man. You've been whipped."

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else, sir. Although I must admit, that IS rather high."

Huh?

"An easy enough labor, I say! Excuse the intrusion. I advise you claim this back and step aside for a moment."

A thin piece of some material was pressed into Godfrey's left hand, which his prosthetic reflexively gripped. But his own attention instead wavered not from his unexpected visitor as they strode past him. Deep blue and heavily reinforced plate, polished with pride, belonged to the one and only Knight Man. Strangely sans a shield and his flail cannon. Probably due to a public regulation but he knew very little of state laws on the matter. Knight Man tipped his visor up to the same kite that'd pestered Godfrey for the previous few hours and then some. 

Godfrey caught himself up to speed as soon as the Robot Master's knees crunched down in a stooping gesture. All one continuous smooth motion, flinging Knight Man twenty-five or so feet in the air. After which he gripped not the kite but the top of the tree which sat incomprehensibly tangled in cable. The momentum of his descent and the unwieldy weight snapped the upper tip of the log with a clean and resounding crack. The sound paled in comparison to the real impact coming afterwards: Knight Man's cratering fall into and partially through the grass.

The nearby ground quaked, leaving Godfrey's own knees weak at the thought let alone the reverberations. Almost biting his tongue from the suddenness of the vibrations subsiding in the earth. Knight Man's visor shifted over to see what Godfrey could only assume was his flabbergasted expression. A hearty guffaw followed as Knight Man stepped out of the boot deep trench left behind from his impromptu landing. Dragging the two or so feet of broken tree trunk and kite behind him casually. 

"Surely not that left you bereft of words? I dare say your standards are quite low."

All Godfrey could manage was a half-hearted gesture past the decapitated head of a tree carried by the Robot Master and towards the miniaturized splash zone of a meteor. They were both roughly the same height, but they certainly didn't weigh the same. Godfrey's napkin-less math left him staggered by the weight required to do such a thing. Perhaps Knight Man's concern for the reception room's floor were worth considering next time. No, not perhaps. Definitely. Just how dense could a Robot Master physically be? He pitied the laps of so many of Elec Man's previous suitors. Even if the Light Bot weighed maybe a fraction of Knight Man.

"Standards, wha- look at the ground! I wasn't aware you weighed yourself in the thousands. That's, what, two tons?"

In the middle of his frantic gesturing, it came to his attention then that the plastic Godfrey had bent slightly in his left hand was actually his staff badge. Lost for just shy of half a week this time. He was more so surprised that it hadn't been stolen during the weekend. To be used for what purposes, who knew? Having it returned saved him the trouble of dealing with the higher up. They never took well to his absentmindedness with it. Rightfully so, he'd willingly admit.

"Where'd you find this?"

Knight Man pointed haphazardly off and down the trail leading to the pond they'd previously nearly drowned in. Well, only in Godfrey's case.

"I'd recalled you made mention of a bench. Curious, and with nary else to do this morning, I wandered."

Ah, yes. Godfrey really should have remembered to check the bench again. Vast majority of the time when his badge went missing, it ended up beneath the seat. He tucked the crumpled ID into his front pocket and made a mental reminder to just staple it to his forehead next time. Utterly stupid to keep misplacing something as frequently lost as this. 

"Oh, well thank you! For that and bringing the kite down. I swim better than I climb."

The guttural laugh returned from a gut not anatomically present, only serving to leave Godfrey even more confused given the circumstances. The joke hadn't been that funny. Knight Man begged to differ, it seemed. No accounting for taste.

"If that'd been you swimming earlier, prayers be then with the tree you decide to walk up."

"Sure, sure. Laugh it up. Next time I'll just let you go in and fetch it yourself. No way in hell am I pulling your heavy ass out of that pond."

He made sure to keep his own grin known as they both got to work extricating the kite from the wrapped trunk. In truth the task only really required a single person's effort. Godfrey couldn't shake the feeling though that Knight Man needed to feel useful. A suspicion he'd initially gathered from their back and forth text conversations during the preceding weekend. He'd be a fool to say no to the help, even if it entailed the assistance of a single hand. 

If the tree was any indication, one hand could do an awful great deal. 

-/-/-

Me: mornin

DWN-44: -IMAGE UNABLE TO BE RECEIVED-

DWN-44: Shame, but expected with a phone as archaic as yours. 

Me: b nice. gets the job dn

DWN-44: Tis your business card. Elec Man insisted I bear it until further notice. 

DWN-44: Although for what particular reason, I know not. Could you enlighten me on the matter?

Me: nm. just ncase u have info

DWN-44: Pertaining to your interviews?

Me: yea. 1st hnd accounts

DWN-44: I gather then that it went well? I suppose it gives credence to Elec Man's rather people-pleasing personality.

Me: hes smthn all right

DWN-44: Asking you what for would be folly, but may I offer my aid once more? 

Me: let u know ltr. boots r stubborn

Me: sve me frm these fking boots pls. 

DWN-44: Ah, my best wishes there. Brad crossed blades with my shield using a sander. Would that suffice?

Me: need my boots 2b boots, nt sandals.

-/-/-

Despite how little Godfrey cared for the Murphy County Park as a public entity, he took great care to maintain the park itself in all other regards. Many who visited simply enjoyed the nature for what it was and not what could be done shrouded within. Plenty of morning joggers, dog walkers, and apparently even kite flyers. So it was for that reason in particular that he stood firmly between his favorite bench and an eager Knight Man. A meager effort to prevent the utter destruction of many's favorite spot to rest. Himself included. Countering the Robot Master's multiple attempts to insist he would be mindful. 

"You're not breaking the only upside of working at this park. Just sit on the ground if you want to see the view, it's close enough!" 

Knight Man tilted his helmet forward at that, crimson LCD's peering past the Y-shaped divot in the visor and straight at Godfrey. Calculating perhaps? No. Ascertaining. Observing Godfrey, waiting for a pending explanation. A silent question asked by a figure without eyebrows or any other facial feature that'd otherwise be indicative. Another query on the pile yet to be addressed. By this point Knight Man presumably kept to himself dozens of mismatched odds and ends, all of which that made up Godfrey's character.

Putting them off any longer would do neither of them any favors. Being a little forthcoming wouldn't kill him, so Godfrey obliged. Taking a seat on the edge of the bench closest to Knight Man's standing form. Both cast their gaze out to the distant pond and treeline. Typically when Godfrey sat here, it was with a notepad or his laptop in hand. This would be the first time he'd ever had company during one of the quieter moments of his recent life. Unusual to say the least.

"I suppose it's only fair I answer a few things, especially after your help today. What's up first?"

"Do you despise your position here?"

A fair question. Not what Godfrey expected to be asked first, but still. All signs pointed to Godfrey being miserable at the park. The way he dressed, to cast off attention, did not instill in those who saw him the idea that he even worked for the county. His flippant attitude in public settings served to further appearances. A far cry from the world he used to wade in chest-deep or the knife's edge he walked during the interview process. 

"I enjoy working here. It probably doesn't look it but I do. There's something therapeutic about finishing something. Things like tending to the bushes, pruning trees, or picking up litter feels like nothing more than that: a checklist to mark off. Same with managing our orders in the office or directing guests."

Godfrey rapped his knuckle on the bench seat beside him. Not as a gesture for Knight Man to join him, but more so the result of a long-born habit. Idle motions done in thought. An unusual moment of introspection. 

"I sometimes just sit here and look around in the afternoon. The park used to look abysmal before I started working here. Knowing I've nurtured so much of this landscape? I suppose feeling capable of change is an intoxicating feeling. Being capable in general."

Casting a thumb across a grazing scuff on his chest, Knight Man nodded in agreement. No outward desire to delve deeper into what'd been presented. That, Godfrey thought, was a recently learned benefit spending his time with these Robot Masters. Instead Knight Man just contributed his own part in the stead of the silence left behind. 

"In a duel, the victor is determined by their own merits. Remaining aware of my own competency spurs me on into the countless skirmishes I face. I've felled a thousand challengers, and by sundown tomorrow I shall bring low numerous more. I know this feeling all too well. Coveting not the failure of others, but instead the grace brought forth from your own honed abilities is an admirable trait to possess. It suits you." 

Therein lay another starkly human attribute. On open display for all to see, yet no one thought to peer closer: pride. Present in each Robot Master Godfrey spoke with since beginning this project. Air Man's perpetual front of superiority backed by the knowledge that he truly was that potent. Pride. Elec Man's unwavering conviction to remain as himself and enjoying the simple pleasures brought by his night-filled company. Pride in two ways. Even with Knight Man, reaching as far back as their first notable conversation about his involvement in Robot Wars. Seen as a silly little gesture by others. In truth?

Pride.

How could humanity still remain so ignorant to such things? It infuriated Godfrey beyond any reasonable measure. In a sense, though, there'd never been a reasonable explanation for it. Humanity's failures remained entirely their own. Action and inaction both blending into an irredeemable blight upon the lives of robotkind. Here Godfrey sat with a Robot Master so eager to assist, he'd been pestered by the bot at five in the morning. Only a few hours after they last spoke. Not to be seen as a tool, but as an open hand offered in aid for a cause he knew next to nothing about. 

Godfrey doubted with every fiber of his being that Knight Man's help carried any darker motive. A motive in general? Perhaps something innocuous alongside the genuine wish to assist. For what exact purpose, Godfrey couldn't fathom, but it was on the up and up. Properly good company on all standards sought him out. This was a luxury scarcely found with his fellow humans. Taking the seldom unearthed initiative with being forthcoming of his own information, Godfrey followed up on this moment of contemplation. Not with a comment on Knight Man's character. Instead with the truth. 

The illusion of peace would be soon shattered one way or another anyway. Cluing someone to be trusted in would leave one less soul surprised. For if souls were more than a pure figment of religious speculation, Robot Masters would be the best case study to verify the claim.

"These interviews? They're for a proposal I've been piecing together. Robot civil rights are a passion of mine. I've been stuck sitting here for years now just watching you and yours be stripped of your individuality. Reduced to the public notion of mindless or quirky workers at best. Concepts as simple as a relationship scorned into the recesses of academic knowledge. Hell, this is the least-"

Godfrey drew a deep breath, wringing his exposed hands as he counted down from five, before releasing both the captive air and his tense muscles both after he'd reached zero. Muddling his message with that information brought into question best left seven feet in the ground. He could already feel Knight Man's unwavering attention. Godfrey answered it with his own. Matching that gaze pound for pound. Taking in the synthetic black material the head beneath the helmet was made of. Fashioned to resemble the basic curvature of a man's face, sans everything except the eyes. 

Eyes which met his own with a glimmer of utmost fascination.

"You've been kind in offering your help. Sincerely, thank you. But there's so much more that needs to be done. Things that dwarf finding a badge or pulling a kite from a tree. If I want this proposal to be heard, I need a larger sample size. I've got three more names on my list. One of which is scheduled for an interview tomorrow. Would you be willing to reach the other two for me?"

Knight Man, in the seconds that followed to process just what'd been asked of him, slowly brought his right gauntleted hand up across his chest; settling it against the leftmost section of his breastplate with a metallic clang. Helmet dipped low in recognition of the task at hand. He offered up a growingly familiar response. Simple, concise, and sincere.

"On your word, sir."

-/-/-

DWN-44: Take this merely in jest, but your texting etiquette is feed for the birds, sir.  

Me: effort

DWN-44: Pray tell then, a night stroll through pond waters seemed less a task?

Me: its diffrnt. tht needed 2b done

Me: phn keypd is ass.

DWN-44: A remarkable paradox. 

-/-/-

Chapter Text

Subject: ||REDACTED||, Alias - The Poet
Human Male, ||REDACTED|| Years Old.
Romantic Partner of DWN-10 - Air Man.

If you'd ask me, say, three years ago what I thought of a man who wished to date a Robot Master, I'd tell you he'd have to possess a certain type of mettle. Both the pun and prejudice intended. Appalling now in hindsight, sure, but that simply was the mindset we all carried back then. Who wanted to involve themselves with a mindless slave or worker? Those whose highest ambitions were dictated by the orders of their masters. Then that attitude twisted into fear of being struck down in our most vulnerable moments. After all, if the Robot Masters could turn on their creator, what would stop them from killing someone as simple as a midnight fling?

The world's development since then has done little to encourage a different mindset. Doing nothing more than cultivating a self-perpetuating stigma that's damn near unshakable for most. Those who learned otherwise did so through experience, experimentation, or some healthy blend of both and a cocktail or two. That's not an opportunity offered to the general public whose hands much rather stay in their pockets than accept the opportunity at their doorstep. From what I've seen thus far, the Beta Line possesses the awareness and emotional intelligence in spades needed for long-lasting relationships. To the point they can even discern proper partners and their own romantic limitations.

Think about that for a second. I've got human exes who were physically incapable of a healthy break without keying slurs into my car. That distinction is robust in both direction and meaning. ||REDACTED||, the Poet as I'll be referring to him as for the rest of my documented interview, saw the opportunity and gripped it in both hands. He and I have been longstanding acquaintances which provided me the opportunity ahead of me today. His involvement with Air Man, and my ability to make said connection happen, was purely pleasant happenstance. For all intents and purposes it's worked out in his favor tremendously. 

Air Man is deliriously happy too, and I highly doubt robotkind suffers from the Honeymoon Phase.

This may be the most straight forward interview I've done thus far. I'm simply hoping to run a few questions by the Poet regarding just how this attraction developed. Afterwards? Planning on doing nothing more than leaving them the hell alone. Love is a fickle thing. The last I'd ever want to inflict upon these poor saps is an outward stressor to taint their flourishing relationship. They deal enough with the public harassing them as it is. Simply sitting here across from him while writing this, I've noticed his multiple attempts to survey our surroundings. Comforting him would be a false platitude.

Until this project takes the Board by storm, safety is nothing more than an illusion for Robot Masters and their lovers. 

- The Memoirs of Godfrey Merrick

- - -

"You're awfully busy for someone who hasn't said anything yet."

Godfrey gave an absentminded nod in response towards his interviewee of the day, Percy. The brunette's lanky body practically curled around himself as he huddled up beneath the tree's shadow. A tree that, unfortunately enough for everyone involved, briefly donned a vibrant kite cap just the day before. One that now was a sizable few feet shorter. It took little guesswork to realize just who said kite belonged to. How the man conned Air Man into the whole situation was beyond any reasonable line of thought. The imagery of Air Man flying a kite with his boyfriend would've made for an excellent splash piece though.

"Not recording anything today, so I'll be keeping my general notes in here. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. That's probably for the best. Just like you said, right?"

Percy was fidgety on the best of days. Him surviving his stationary job behind a counter could be attributed to sheer willpower and focus alone. But that uneasy, concerned tone dripping from every word gave Godfrey pause. Their mutual understanding of the situation came into being long before Air Man entered the picture. Back when Godfrey seemed to be nothing more than a drifter wandering into a slandered gas station, only to find inside a young man proudly sporting a "Robot Rights" pin. Its influence on the small county was divisive, to say the very least. 

Godfrey stood there between the isles, loitering with no intention to purchase anything, while Percy's manager rained hell on the kid for putting their business in jeopardy. All for a stupid pin, he'd said, as he ripped it off and binned it. Intervening during the fact would have only further cemented the man's painfully accurate suspicions. So Godfrey watched and waited. With nowhere else to go and having more spare time than pocket lint, he retrieved the pin from the trash in the meantime. Catching Percy after his shift ended was easy enough. Helping the then nineteen year old realize he wasn't being mugged proved to be harder. 

They'd discussed the world then. Godfrey curious to learn more about this subgroup of activists from a floundering post-teen, and Percy gawking at the uncharged would-be-criminal sitting before him. Appearances alone told only of falsehoods. The deeper look inside offered them both insight in ways neither of them had expected. But what Godfrey was willing to relay came with a warning. In their political environment, blatant displays would tarnish someone's reputation at the smallest scale. The kid wanted change. With so much of his life ahead of him though, Godfrey told him to leave things be.

A gas station should never be the highlight of someone's career. 

Their meetings became a weekly occurrence. After Godfrey secured his position at the Murphy County park, it coincidentally lined up with a growing and unique fascination Percy held for Air Man. From where it came from, he knew not, but the lad had been serious enough. Pleading to exchange a letter of poetry with the Robot Master. Godfrey never even knew either of them held an interest in literature at the time. Percy taking on the pseudonym "The Poet" marked the beginning of what became a longstanding friendship between the three of them. Longstanding in relation to what his life had been up to that point at least. 

"Just like I said," Godfrey offered with the closest he could manage to a reassuring smile. 

He'd truthfully said a lot of things to far too many with intentions less than pure, but this remained seared into his memory. How could it not? The Beta Line could be interviewed in mass if need be. Their public identity both inescapable and well established. The Alpha Line and mankind as a whole? They posed far too much risk. Not to Godfrey, no. Those outside of the Beta line were forever vulnerable to having their lives detonated at a single moment's notice. One maligned news article could sink the ship of even the hardiest sailors. Interviewing either group primarily served just for supplemental information.

But enough preliminary scribbling. With the turn of a page, Godfrey put pen to paper once again and began.

"I've always been curious, what initially sparked your interest in getting to know Air Man? Surely it wasn't through name alone."

A subconscious head tilt from Percy indicated to a question implied but never asked. While Godfrey refused to believe their conversations were intentioned to serve as the young man's connection, an assumption was naturally born from the circumstances. Not that Godfrey would ever fire off that accusation. Percy, among many other things, was a naive but well-meaning man. 

"You remember the second war, with those stories and whatnot? His reputation was a bit off-putting at first. Don't you dare tell him I said that though. It'll go to his head just like everything else. Anyway. So I'm actually his downstairs neighbor? Every morning since he moved in above me, he would stand on his balcony and just sing. Well not exactly sing. More like waxing all philosophical like. So I'd just sit there and listen even if it meant I had to wake up like two hours before I normally did for work."

As if the plot for these two hadn't thickened enough already. Strange then to come to terms with who the real poet had been in this dynamic. All learned after the fact. Their meeting created by nothing more than sheer coincidence and fueled by what may end up being genuine curiosity. Only time would tell. Godfrey finished penning down the response and continued on.

"What about his singing caught your attention?"

"It's raw."

After seeing that the answer clearly was insufficient, probably from Godfrey's undisguised and blank stare, Percy scooted his back up the tree. Righting his posture and freeing both arms to gesture wildly during his upcoming explanation.

"You know how he is. If his emotions were like cards, you'd get nothing but kings. But in the morning? Totally different person. He sounds sad and lost. Like the only thing that'll ever listen and believe him is the wind. I'm not about to air out his personal life but the depth is really there."

A description all too accurate to what Godfrey had pried from Air Man's character over the numerous shifts spent together. Perhaps not everything lent itself to the image he held within his head of the Robot Master, but he wasn't the one dating them. More important than these base assumptions though was the direction to pull this information. No games needed to be played. Instead just angles to cover. Ground to sweep and tidy up. The why of this relationship mattered a great deal here. 

"So emotional well-being and awareness are attractive traits?"

A ridiculous question with a straight-forward answer. Which Percy, of course, answered with his own.

"You're, you know, gay. Right?"

Godfrey nodded. For Percy's purposes, it was close enough.

"How many men do you know actually express themselves? Openly I mean. Talk about their feelings and let themselves just be sad and shit? Probably only a few and I don't have to be a reporter to see that."

Preaching to the choir. He kept his own responses brief as Percy burnt the wick. On display now a wonderful sense of passion and frustrating seeping through that Godfrey did his best to notate whenever available. 

"Mhm."

"I mean honestly! I think we're really falling behind if like robots can be themselves more than us."

"Mhmm."

"Not that robots are worse. It's just that everyone says we're more advanced 'cause we came first. Makes it sound like we lost a race or something. Why's it gotta be a race?"

"Mhhmmm."

His pen furiously scribbling shorthand onto the worn journal's paper filled the following silence. The short lived tirade served its purpose, leaving the now waiting Percy sheepish from his expended energy. Not that Godfrey judged the man a single ounce. He'd been there more than a few times. The struggle to find someone outside of those common pitfalls plagued much of the dating scene. Even more so now that most of them moved to digital and apps.

Besides, who was Godfrey to belittle someone for their zeal? The next question was in order.

"Speaking of robots. How's your relationship with Air Man been so far?"

The flush of previous embarrassment was quickly overtaken by thoughts of another color. A self-reflective smile, recalling memories only known to two, followed suit. Goofy and content but with no qualms with being called either. Godfrey admired that resilient conviction in Percy being himself in what essentially was mixed company. He briefly jotted down the reaction while the Poet rambled on.

"Honestly it's great! We already talked a lot about who we were and what we did as people in our letters. So when we met up, thank you by the way, it felt like we were just pulling the words straight off the paper. No complaints here. Plus, and you better not write this down or he'll kill me, but guess what?"

Another interview where Godfrey himself was being hammered with questions as well. Interactions extending beyond the typical call and response format one would expect from the assignment at hand. In today's case though, he minded little. These were in good fun and kept the overall mood jovial. A genuine blessing given the circumstances surrounding the entire situation. Godfrey leaned forward to listen to whatever secret the other man sought to tell.

"So get this: he doesn't like going into his sleep mode when standing up, right? So he bought this huge ass bed. I mean it's gigantic! Like more than half of his room is just a bed. So I nap, like I do, and he's decided the world will end if I don't hop in. SO there I am on this country wide bed and I still wake up wrapped. It's like snuggling with a koala. A cold one who wears this big cover thing over his chest so I don't shove a hand in his blades in my sleep."

Godfrey didn't share in the subdued laughter after the fact, but he supposed it was comedy only understood if one was "in the moment". More pressing than that though were the implications it brought up. Tucking his notes away in his bag gave him a moment to reflect. He valued his friendship with both Percy and Air Man, as eccentric as they could be. Mostly one of them but still. So he pursued the red flag now on the horizon not as a journalist, but as a concerned man worried for his friends. Godfrey had at his disposal more names than any one man would know what to do with.

Despite that though, only two would ever appreciate hearing from him. Perhaps three now.

"Won't Air Man get upset when he finds out you've been living beneath him for all this time? You've been into his bedroom already."

Percy, having noticed that this was purely off the record, reigned in what positivity remained from his recollection. The somber look from earlier took its place. One that Godfrey knew the young man's relationship with first hailing back from the gas station. Understanding the gravity of not only the situation, but the world they all lived in together. An axe held inches above their necks which gradually lowered whenever one wiggled too much.

"We already talked about it and agreed to take things slow. Simple stuff mostly, like living our own lives in case he brings too much attention to me. Air Man knows I'm in the same building. It's just that if any of the tenants see him coming out of my room... Well, you know. I'm just waiting for this thing of yours to finish."

Rising to his feet, Godfrey offered down a hand in solidarity. Acknowledging how pressing the circumstances were. A meager comfort. As he pulled Percy up from the floor, he grit out an admission of his own. Hope was a dangerous thing. A razor sharp weapon to be wielded and a crippling weakness to be exploited. Self-destructive fervor drove Godfrey onward without a reliance on such a thing. Not everyone was as reckless with their own being though. Hope, for many others, served as a flicker of light just the same. 

"Me too."

-/-/-
 
DWN-44: Today's a splendid day for news, is it not?

Me: funny. wdym?

DWN-44: The fruits of my labor await thee, but at a cost.

DWN-44: 🖾

Me: box?

DWN-44: Pardon?

Me: its a box

DWN-44: Oh bother. Suppose you shan't be witnessing my knight emoji's either. A pity.

DWN-44: I'll make do briefing you in person! When next might you spare a moment?

Me: anytm tmrw at park. 

Me: no ponds.

DWN-44: Who knew mud to be such a fierce combatant? 

Me: shush

-/-/-

Chapter Text

-/-/-

DWN-44: Expect my arrival within an hour!

Me: meet u otside the offc

Me: sry. u weigh 2 mch

DWN-44: Luckily for you, sir I feel no shame for my heft.

Me: chonk

-/-/-

Godfrey, flipping the dangling "open" sign to "closed", shut the door behind himself. Bathing in the high afternoon sun with a growing smile. There was much to say about how quickly basking could warm the soul. Especially when he'd oftentimes been shuttered away in the windowless section of the building. Just one of those days where Godfrey truly enjoyed wearing a tanktop to work even if not all the skin displayed heated the same way. He closed his eyes and craned his neck, rubbing a few fingers along the wispy hairs trailing up his still legitimate shoulder. The pleasant bout of chills rising to meet him was interrupted by a sudden burst of chatter.

Children, a pair, ran around the corner to meet an approaching figure off behind the building. Hushed playful voices faint in awe. Godfrey paid them little mind. Their appearance at the park was frequent enough. Their parents too warned them to keep their distance. It was of no consequence to him, as he much rather stand beside the front door and lounge. To wait. Even for the briefest moment, it felt wonderful to just wait. Not due to his own inaction or the inability for others to play their parts. Instead he held himself there in wait for company. Unexpectedly pleasant company and a reliable messenger of progress besides. 

"I made haste as quickly as I could manage, but it seems even still my absence bored you to sleep. Dearming is a thoroughly supervised process."

Impeccable timing and with a valid point to boot. Under different circumstances, Godfrey would ask away on the topic. The policies alone would easily divulge the public's priorities. But Knight Man already stood too close to the source. That proximity, that involvement, would ensure that he'd be caught in the blast if things detonated. Not if, when. Associating the Robot Master's name with the project could truthfully help in some regards. Knight Man was a notable figurehead in Europe as well as within "Robot Wars" circuits. Audiences and citizens both knew of him. 

But that renowned reputation would garner countless barrels pointed in his direction. Hopefully not literally. Sometimes Godfrey found the delusions of man beyond accounting for. They were capable of disturbing bouts of violence over the most trivial of matters. That elusive shield would only protect Knight Man so much. Put in an inescapable situation where any and all actions done in defense would only serve to reinforce the retaliatory mindset. An unhealthy justification for prejudice. But it seemed best to save pondering that for his papers.

"Just enjoying the weather, you're fine."

Another breath in, letting himself feel his view broaden back to the world surrounding him still. Plenty of work to do. Godfrey found no shortage of opportunities to enjoy the smaller things before his plunge into activism. He only had himself to blame for letting them slip between his then disinterested fingers. Now that a far grander goal sat on the horizon, they'd only continue to remain intangible. The proposal was all that mattered. But even that felt muddled. Through his peripheral, he noticed Knight Man hovering about. 

Nervous? No, that seemed almost unbecoming of what Godfrey learned of the Robot Master so far. Anxiety driven proclamations seemed out of character for the self-assured and steady arena warrior. This felt far more like excitement. Perhaps this news being brought about amounted to more than just a lukewarm maybe. More likely than that though? the aforementioned cost. The unavoidable give and take that their previous interactions were leading to. The price found the opportunity to rear its ugly head as it had so many times before. 

Truthfully Godfrey cared little for what it would take. Not that he lacked any sense of self worth as he found working on the project difficult if he let his body slip and succumb to the weathering. It was instead that certain goals took precedence over others. Momentary discomfort, embarrassment, or even soreness made for excellent companions of the information he'd gleamed in the past from those involved. Shame meant nothing to a man with a reputation forever tarnished. An all consuming void could never bend the knee to any object thrown its way. What was there to sully that hadn't already been destroyed?

It wouldn't be the first and nor would it be the last.

"Let's get what I owe out of the way. What are you needing me to do?"

But nothing of the sort was propositioned when Godfrey finally turned his attention to Knight Man. Instead, in an outstretched white gauntlet, sat a thumbdrive. An unassuming grey betraying nothing of its contents. It served to be an accidental allusion to the numerous cases brought to his attention in-between the long hours of the studio. Slapdash information needing to be pursued and put to film. Was this the news? Or did Knight Man want a copy of his footage? The latter seemed unlikely. 

Clearly seeing the confusion, Knight Man flourished with his arm once again. A gesture Godfrey somehow missed the first time. But the words were unmistakably distinct. After all, who in their right mind would ask for this in return? Apparently Knight Man and his unknowable sense of priorities. 

"Before you are ten showings of Robot Wars, all selected at random from my digital archive and saved on this nifty drive. Watching these should make for an equivalent exchange. Wouldn't you agree, sir?"

Did Godfrey agree with the notion? Certainly not! But arguing with a Robot Master on the value of self-assigned work seemed like a bit of a pointless endeavor. Knight Man held the reigns of their shared situation with the attitude of an uplifted albeit confused shipwright. The only ship being built today was a friendship, it seemed, and that felt startlingly out of place to Godfrey. A goofy motive that required nothing more than passive consideration and playful interactions. Godfrey could do that. Surely. 

His presumably glazed expression broke into an equally confused shrug. No point in fighting this, he thought, as Godfrey tucked the thumbdrive inside one of his riding gloves. Anything put away in his pockets simply vanished from existence and appeared beneath a park bench somewhere. Maybe he should've been a magician. 

"Can do, big guy. I'll give them a watch when I get home tonight."

Knight Man, with the air of someone attempting to casually describe their favorite sports team winning a championship, inspected his unequipped arm cannon. Nonchalant as a feral cat, him. The pun of dearming was not lost on Godfrey. Neither was Knight Man's excitement as he spoke, obsessively rubbing at a scratch from a prior encounter. Or the tree? Possibly the tree.

"If we're to be transparent about our intentions, then I must make an admission. Someone, somewhere, has done you a great disservice which I must remedy. For you to have lived this long and yet never witnessed a single match? This is an absolute travesty."

"I'll watch it, I'll watch it! Don't blow a fuse. If you keel over now, I doubt anyone could carry you back."

Godfrey's first instinct had been to wave it all off as just a show. But doing so would be incredibly disrespectful to Knight Man and his interests. Passion for the craft, and the platform, shone brighter than the crimson LCD's boring into his skull. He supposed that being directly involved inspired a loyalty all too similar to that found in some humans and their respective organizations. Although he doubted that Knight Man would succumb to the same failings mankind held with their followings. Speaking of which.

"As for the news?"

The following paper printoffs of emails, stored in a capsule where Knight Man's shield typically sat on his back, detailed success far beyond Godfrey's expectations. The ease of which both subjects had been reached dwarfed the man's capabilities given his current network. But the execution of what needed to be done? That left much to be desired. So much so that Knight Man's voice of concern stuck out to Godfrey as he ran over the tasks before him. Positives weighed equally on a scale with the nuisances that followed. Mulling on each thought as he paced. 

Knight Man secured an interview with Hornet Man and their boyfriend. Good. 

Said interview could only be done that upcoming Saturday via the online meeting service Scope. Bad.

Dr. Kyruio was ecstatic to meet Godfrey and hear out his proposal. Good.

That impromptu conference would be at any time on any day at any place the upcoming week. Bad.

The wall of small inconveniences amassed into a mountain. Godfrey's laptop could barely handle his editing software, let alone a conference kit. That by itself would be an expensive fix. One requiring tapping into his preciously little savings. He also needed to piece together some initial research on this Hornet Man but had startlingly no time to do so. Given what seemed to be a content ban on anything related to Hornet Man and his generation, that screamed government or Board interference. Without an opportunity to utilize third party sources too. Godfrey would be operating completely blind for the interview. 

As for Dr. Kyurio, things weren't looking much better. He could get Air Man to cover any sudden deviations in his schedule so no worries there. However, his proposal still lacked some necessary refinements. The footage? Only two-thirds cut and reviewed in addition to the collation of the written notes and memoirs. So not having a concrete date for this pre-hearing forced him to assume the worst. Monday. He needed to have all four interviews documented, edited, and organized into a single movement by potentially Monday morning. Assuming Dr. yurio was even in a position to endorse the project!

This would be trouble. 

~ ~ ~

Knight Man's insistence on loitering about the park bench while Godfrey notated some of his shorthand was met with absolutely zero resistance. Godfrey and his work was being observed. Understandable enough. But soon it became clear that more questions were boiling beneath that midnight blue helm. Technically not considered part of their transaction, sure, but more than understandable as wishes go. So Godfrey bagged his journals and pads after an hour of toiling away with very little progress. The sudden appearance of a pressing timetable left his thoughts scrambled. 

Beating his head against a wall wouldn't accomplish much of anything. A comprehensive reflection required his mind to be of one sort. Taking some time to let things settle seemed best. With a wave, Godfrey signaled over the occasionally staring Knight Man over from his little foothold by the pond. That fixation with that ridiculous water would be the death of boots everywhere. 

"Go on, spill. Ask away."

Their dynamic had grown into something akin to mutually exchanged information. Rare for Godfrey, but it certainly wouldn't seem that way to Knight Man. All Godfrey had done with the Robot Master was divulge oodles of content. Topics and projects unknown to even Air Man on open display. But thus was the cost of working at a different angle. Keys were required to unlock doors; a comparison which brought about humorous imagery of Knight Man's involvement there. Keys? The damn bot could just walk through the doors and their frames both with ease. 

Said robot's fixation continued on. Unflinching eyes, now only eight or so feet away, peered down at Godfrey. At his stretching hands and the pen circling between his gloved organic fingers. The question too was sharp and directed, but its inquisitive nature was dulled by the knowledge that Knight Man was only curious for genuine reasons. Unknowingly hungering for a truth told to oh so few. Typically those who asked were aware of the circumstances, twisting the very intention of their approach. Knight Man meanwhile seemingly just disliked missing puzzle pieces. 

"What allure has transfixed you to this cause? I doubt not your dedication, just your beginnings."

In brief, the answer was simple. Thus it shall remain so.

"I owe my life to an Alpha. Don't know who they were, or where they are now, but they shattered an illusion I'd kept to myself about your kind. The public remains blind just like I once was. You could consider this the start of righting a long series of wrongs."

Knight Man accepted this truth with a nod. Nothing more, nothing less. At least until his chassis beeped at faint tone. He bid Godfrey farewell before leaving to report in for the filming of a new episode. No fanfare or dramatic conflict regarding the confession left in his place. He simply took things at face value as it should be. Of the many, many things Knight Man had done for them both so far, it was this that Godfrey felt the most grateful for.

Not every conversation needed to signal a war.

-/-/-

Me: duno who pys 4 al the robots

Me: so mny brokn bits

DWN-44: 🖾

DWN-44: How exciting! What episode have I started your trek on?

Me: bg spinny wheel

DWN-44: Hypno-Disc! Such a charming knave. 

DWN-44: If you assume the devastation is notable now, patience begets way to this season.

Me: u said they wr al random

DWN-44: Oops, how foolish of me. Mayhaps I meant only your beginning was dictated by chance.

DWN-44: :P

Me: finlly smthin i can see.

-/-/-

Chapter Text

Subject: Hornet Man
Dr. Light Model Number ??.
Beta Line Robot Master, Unknown Generation

To those unaware, a great wealth of information can be gleaned from the total absence of coverage. Nothing remains unreported and undocumented for long in today's society. The media nothing more than a perpetually starved beast hungering for the next avenue to scour. For an entire generation of Robot Masters to be wiped away from the prying eye? A telltale sign of government interference. The typical reporter or journalist would read the room and leave the matter alone. Far easier marks to hunt out in the public. To them, what use is a meal they could never profit from? They're shortsighted fools whose priorities extend no further than their pockets. 

That exact shade of censorship holds my interest above all else. Robot Masters have a particularly polarizing reception in the media and public eye. Some are worshiped, others are vilified. Above all else, they're seen as useful. Walking and talking tools working in environments too hazardous for mankind or with capabilities beyond what was humanly possible. What could be gained from removing them from general perception? Was this from a coalition formed between the federal government and the Board? Or perhaps these Robot Masters served in positions far too sinister for the average joe to know of. Conspiracy theories would run rampant. Hidden operatives? Splinter cells?

Hornet Man is a gardener. Much to the inevitable disappointment of many, I'm sure.

Knight Man confirmed Hornet Man to be another Light Bot, but even he is unsure of the specifics. I'd be lying if I said the question of why didn't bother me as much as it truly did. Some instincts are too finely ingrained to simply ignore. Right or wrong, things simply weren't adding up in a coherent fashion. The problem with the scenario presented to me thus far? The primary one at the very least? How in the hell does a publicly banned Robot Master interact with humans enough to find a boyfriend, let alone one long term? Neither seem the whistle-blower type.

To be fair, I still know painfully few details regarding these two. Here's to rectifying that.

- The Memoirs of Godfrey Merrick

- - - 

Oh my. He'd been blessed. The eighth wonder of the world ordained him the privilege to witness it, he thought. Such volume! Such class. Who'd ever want to tear their eyes away? Godfrey's voice pitched up an octave as he asked the first question that came to mind. Only afterwards did he realize he'd already started recording. If the Board must hear his baby talk whenever he amassed enough information for a case, then so be it. The moment felt perfect. 

"Aw, hello! Look at you! Such a chunky baby boy. What's your name, little guy?"

The behemoth looming over Hornet Man's video feed, taking up the vast majority of the frame, probably preferred another title beside the misnomer Godfrey offered. For that was surely the fattest cat Godfrey had ever had pleasure of seeing in his life. A sheet-cake of speckled brown and black with the ominous aura of a beast not recently fed. Eyes, a shade reminiscent of Godfrey's recent muddy nemesis, overblown and fixated on the moving papers through the screen and on Godfrey's desk. He could see their little black nose flare as they relentlessly sniffed the camera. A silent meow reminded him that his rig wasn't speaker compatible. 

Godfrey scrambled for his dinky headphones then. He'd just joined the conference room a few minutes earlier than specified. Thus, he wasn't expecting the sudden presence of his divine ruler. But all he could accomplish in his haste was witnessing the cat's final defiant meow as two white gloves lifted them up and out of shot. The "no" Godfrey uttered was both guttural and well deserved. He wished the mighty creature a wonderful life of treats and perpetual kickies. At that size though? The thought of them eating their handlers did cross his mind. A hearty diet. 

Returning back up with his headphones on, Godfrey met with the second most important figure of the interview today: Hornet Man. Or at least he assumed it to be Hornet Man. An initial glance at the screen would fool a passerby that they were a human in cosplay. Very expensive cosplay if the helmet and honeycomb chestpiece were any indication. Ashen dark skin, subdued navy eyes, and a cocked smile with just a glimmer of teeth all revealed through the missing mouth-guard. They wore a yellow-orange helmet reminiscent of those used by vespa commuters. The silver brim cast only the lightest of shadows over their framed LCDs. 

The silver stinger, the base rimmed by a thick black outline, sticking out the top clued Godfrey in well enough of who this was. Probably some of the most on-brand iconography since Pharaoh Man's, well, everything. Funny. Godfrey settled in and offered a grin of his own albeit far more sheepishly. Hornet Man wasn't wearing any headphones (assuming they needed them). Likely they heard both his praise for their cat as well as his adamant cry of anguish. Oops. He regretted nothing. Hornet Man, taking the initiative, spoke first. The first glimpse into the southern husk of his voice. Which, all things considered, only further complicated the question at hand.

"Sorry 'bout that. Cheese just wanted a little looksie, that's all."

Cheese?

"As in..?

"Grilled Cheese! They're his favorite, aren't they you little stinker? Not that you can have any. Fatty"

The distinctive "urf" of the beautifully named cat being slung into the unseen lap of Hornet Man clued Godfrey into another topic. One he'd have to pursue after his initial presentation to Dr. Kyurio. The very nature of pets required forced dependency. Even cats needed to be tended to. From a logical perspective, an argument could be made for a gardener to value such a relationship. That limited viewpoint would be a critical disservice of the free will for this line though. Robot Masters enjoying the company of pets beyond reliance hinted at much more. Relationships of all kinds were self-evident in human culture. 

The same could be said of their robotic counterparts. 

"I love him. Would it be okay if I just interviewed him today instead?"

The vigorous buttpats and the waving tail just peeking into frame further eroded his will. Even though he'd said it in jest, he would truthfully love nothing more than a less formal conversation with this Robot Master and their kitty titan. But instead they mutually laughed the joke off and prepped themselves for the interview proper. Their timetable was unfortunately limited to less than an hour and as their brief introduction evolved into the main course, Godfrey realized all too quickly how pressed for time they truly were. But making the most out of nothing seemed to be a reoccurring habit by this point. 

Much of the basic information he'd like to ask held no place here. Wasting the opportunity on answering minor questions such as Hornet Man's profession and how he came to be would blatantly ignore the more vital elements at hand. Precision and accuracy both became a necessity. A single line of thinking needed to be followed until the correct destination had been reached. Knowing just what road to travel though made the task needlessly complicated. Such was the life of living on the New York Minute. Godfrey idly tapped his left hand on the cheap glass of his standing desk in thought as the proceedings continued. 

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me like this. I'm not sure what Knight Man told you earlier."

"Oh nothin' much. Just that y'all are activists on our behalf. How could I say no to that?"

Godfrey bit down the urge to scrunch up his features at the news, displeasure remaining buried within. His friend's people-centric and straightforward nature is what secured them both this interview. Having more individuals brought into the true reasoning for these interviews however simply fed more brush to the inevitable fire. The all consuming wave of hatred. Perpetual whiplash until the movement either climbs too high or is put into the ground. Unacceptable, but unavoidable, losses in the war to come. Speaking of which, Godfrey thought, they seemed to be missing a man. 

Well in that case, let's get started. Shall we? I'd been hoping to speak with your boyfriend as well."

Hornet Man's eyes, flickering uncomfortably to look off-screen, told volumes of the situation at play here. Godfrey assumed such a thing might come to pass. Identity and safety were two caution billboards looming over them both. No big deal in the long run to be deprived of the other individual. Godfrey truthfully was tickled pink enough to just be speaking with the Robot Master. Besides, that absence served as a well and proper segway. Along with Hornet Man's own admission of course. Godfrey wouldn't be able to peel the layers of this onion himself. The government's censorship all but executed any subsequent attempt to do so. But the words were not his to say.

"We ain't too sure sure if that's safe. I hope that's alright? Kinda a big risk to admit we're even dating."

Bingo. Even if it served as a temporary insight only, it still added wood to the fire. 

"If I may ask, what specifically makes it dangerous?"

"Bots with expiration dates can't do much other than work."

The sensors in his fingertips flared with warnings within his consciousness, but he ignored them and the now cracked glass in favor of what'd been said. That made little sense, right? He floundered for his previous binder of notes stashed away nearby. It served mostly as a way to document small observations he made about robot culture during the editing process of the footage. But this? This felt like far more than just a tiny doodad to notate. Expiration dates? Nowhere in the numerous pages he flipped through was such a thing ever mentioned. Either in passing or directly by mankind and robotkind both.

Robot Masters could be decommissioned or retire whenever necessity or personal preference deemed it so. That was it. 

"Expiration dates? I'm sorry, I wasn't aware Robot Masters even had expiration dates."

The resignation visible on just the lower half of Hornet Man's obscured face did little to assuage Godfrey's concerns. But surely his brain was scrambling together a check reality couldn't cash. Leaping to assumptions would get neither of them anywhere. Godfrey simply nodded as the Robot Master explained in response.

"Ain't your fault. Only those of us made for the state are eventually given the boot. I suppose it's for cleanin' up."

"I'd heard that the Robot Museum keeps a few on display as a form of retirement. Would those in your position end up there?"

The natural conclusion Godfrey came to, a meager source of long-sought comfort in this crusade for knowledge and rights, lasted all of a few seconds. A calloused hand, from a hairy arm littered with healing scratches and ginger fuzz, came in from the border and gripped Hornet Man's shoulder in a tight grip. Hornet Man's LCD's flickered off with a stilled vocal "hmmm". Not in thought. Making noise in the vain attempt to maintain one's composure. To keep the brain busy long enough to withstand the urge to weep. No one spoke a word as the light slowly and painfully returned to Hornet Man's eyes. Godfrey unknowingly mourned a loss yet to come, it seemed. 

"We're scrapped. Demolished, tossed away in a hole somewhere 'cause we just ain't useful anymore."

Godfrey's own mind kept itself occupied with the implications. The government censorship wasn't to withhold knowledge from the public. Well, at least not primarily. Questions smashed themselves apart within his skull with the apparent truth. Muscles twitching in pain and reflection. Everything boiled down to cold calculus here. Robot Masters with predetermined shelf lives operated under stifling regulations to maintain not appearances, but efficiency. Nothing more than storing tools in a shed. He'd made the fatal error of assuming those responsible factored in and willingly ignored the human element of this sapience.

No, Christ. He couldn't be further from the truth. In a cruel ironic way, the childlike ignorance painted these actions in a better light. Like that of a confused toddler. As if there wasn't enough on the line as it was. The interview itself couldn't recover from this. Hornet Man was a single question away from leaping into the arms of the burly man off camera. They deserved a kernel of truth. AN ounce of hope once again dolled out despite Godfrey's own inability to believe in it. 

"If it's any comfort to you both, this will be a huge help to my proposal. I wish I could guarantee results or that things will change for the better. All I can assure you is that progress will be made. One way or another. If you'd like, we can call it here."

A pitifully empty smile greeted his words. Godfrey couldn't blame Hornet Man for believing so little in his claims. Who knew just how soon that planned obsolescence would come into play? Living life by the day, not the decade. Tallying off a calendar until you're put down like a dog. Which for a sentient being which probably existed for less than a few years? Akin to being cut down mid-stride after the first hurdle. So Godfrey kept any further questions to himself as Hornet Man, his partner, and the magnanimous Cheese bid him farewell. The call ended with an audible click, but the silence felt far worse.

Godfrey's hands hovered over the keyboard. Desperate to type something of some use to Hornet Man before he left the chat room for good. Nothing came to mind. How could he think of something under the circumstances? What does one say to a dying man long since deprived of hope? Godfrey's own cause amounted to nothing more than a shot fired from the hip to them. The work of a completely unknown quantity at best, and an unconvicted murderer at worst. One who stared through his black screen into his own reflection. The truth would draw far more blood than lies from the media ever could. But to what extent would the damage entail?

If several of the Beta Line were given death dates, then chances were the Alpha line long since suffered from this in silence. Nothing more than changing out a light bulb. The bot Godfrey sacrificed everything for was surely long since dead if this held true. Destroyed at random, no doubt, in favor of the next newer model. Another cog in the machine. How much could he, or the public masses for that matter, ever know of the reality they lived in? The world before him grew into an insurmountable mess. Nerves, long since severed from his body, spread out in pain as they carried his thoughts to darker lands. 

~ ~ ~

The nurse's nervous stammers, already barely audible from the compression, devolved into inane babbling. Desperately fighting the urge to either pry off his own arms or check for a pulse the sixth time. But the damage had already been done. The bot's own ministrations ushering an unintended end. Tristin's eyes, capillaries burst and flooding with red, drifting up past the nurse's shoulders and onto Godfrey's decrepit shambling. Each step a painful effort only possible due to the stimulants and temporary nanotechnology flooding his body. Both their muscles trembled in their current state. 

But while Godfrey was a miraculously walking corpse, Tristin remained folded in the seat of the van.

Neck now snapped at an angle, bone poking against but not through the swollen flesh around it. It'd been a mistake. All of it. This assignment, his lost pass, the crash, and even the nurse's bots attempt to extract Tristin from the seatbelt and embedded steering wheel. Too much pressure despite their best intentions. The collapsing cityscape around them further accentuated the inescapable fate of the driver. But neither of them could rightfully blame the nurse. An unfamiliar showcase of panic so unlike anything Godfrey had covered before. Panic, sure, but sorrow as well. Choked whirring that could only be described as such at least. 

Unnatural. Uncomfortable. Human. Just like those fleeing for their lives beyond his reach far above. A gurgled laugh settled within his throat as his first thought settled on what could be made of this. If it came to light in the news, the nurse would be scrapped in a heartbeat. Torn apart for spare parts as a hit news piece. Countless requests to cover the AI gone rogue. The one who murdered an injured and vulnerable reporter. Oh it would be an absolute sensation. Another uprising! Robots inspired by whatever staggering death toll Gamma would be cooking up. It was well and truly fucked. Yet if Godfrey hadn't been the one to witness the truth, he'd believe it in a heartbeat.

After all, they weren't human. Right? That's what they'd all been told over and over again.

That's what Godfrey taught the public. 

Even from here Godfrey could see Tristin's life fading. Focus lost, lethargy settling in, with the inability to even flick a digit. A lost cause. Same as him. Godfrey's own body wouldn't make it through the next hour let alone the climb out of the crater they dove straight into. Sinew and stringy muscles kept the useless weight of his left side together. He felt as much as he could move: nothing. No pain, no cold, not even the sweltering heat of the inferno creeping up onto the crashed van. Only pity. The nurse, robot or otherwise, did its best to get Godfrey moving. Miraculously kept his back intact. For the time being at least. 

If an afterlife existed, Godfrey's fate would settle nowhere else than beneath his own feet for this. His life was spent. No reason for three to die from this damn hole. Hopefully it would find a purpose elsewhere. Mustering what little strength remained in his right hand, he approached and pried the seatbelt off. Most of the work had been done by the nurse previously. In more than one way it seemed. Godfrey wrapped his fingers around Tristin's neck with a silently uttered apology before he yanked. Pulling and pulling as the sky grew darker, much like the flesh beneath his palm. The final crack rang out not as a bullet but as the dropping of a pin. The quelling of a life. A notch on the day's mortality rate. 

Prying Tristin's crumpled body from the van took only gravity and Godfrey's own dead weight. Both fell to the destroyed concrete and pipes beneath with startling speed. The rattling of his back against the unforgiving stone severed the meager connection left behind. Twitching the most he'd be capable of now. This was it. Sewage, slowly rising, mattered little in the grand scheme of things, but it along with the approaching blaze illuminating the darkness behind his eyelids forced him to focus. Long enough to plead.

Begging the petrified nurse bot, so lost in their own thoughts that current proceedings washed over them like the tide does a shoreline. Godfrey's raised voice nothing more than a whisper compared to the violence around them. But he made himself heard. Eyes locked with the two black lenses, unwavering conviction sourced from spite for the public and the wish to make amends. So he pleaded not for his own life. No. For theirs.

"Run."

~ ~ ~

-/-/-

Me: fre 4 a call?

DWN-44: Certainly! Is something amiss?

- INCOMING CALL-
FROM:「 DWN-44 CHASSIS, GLOBAL ROBOT ALLIANCE REGISTRY OF ROBOTICS 」

. . .

. . .

. . "-llo? 

"I'm reading you, albeit rather poorly I must admit."

"Hold..a m-"

"Sir?"

"..."

"Godfrey?"

"Is this any better? Had to step outside the shack."

"Much! Glad to hear your voice. What brought this about? You answered not my earlier question."

"Just part of today's interview, I suppose."

"Hornet Man refused to cooperate with your interview? I'd certainly hoped for better, he seemed the lovely sort beforehand."

"Oh nothing like that! Hornet Man was a huge help."

"I'm afraid you're waving about a banner I'm just not seeing."

"Don't worry about it. I've just got a lot going on. You filming tonight?""

"I understand. The ledger is clear, just been loafing around and polishing my mace."

"....a stronger man would ignore the euphemism there."

"Well if you're to laugh, pray do so in person. My arms are pitifully inadequate to smack you upside the head this far away."

"I could use a break, so sure. Why not?"

"Sir? Surely I misheard you."

"Up for some Putt Putt?"

-/-/-

Chapter Text

-/-/-

DWN-44: Dr. Kyurio sends his regards! Eggs on Us, 10 AM this Tuesday. 

Me: k

DWN-44: I see someone's still embittered by their horrific loss, yes?

Me: no :(((

DWN-44: Reap what you sow. Only a fool challenges Knight Man to a game of conquest.

Me: putt putt

DWN-44: It matters not! I vanquished my foe. I must say though, you fought valiantly :p

Me: thrw urself nto a pnd

-/-/-

The words to describe Dr. Kyurio, Godfrey thought, were endless. A proper characterization of this almost sixty year old felt like nothing more than a cartoon. A fairly short man in stature wrapped in a labcoat absolutely laden with planet themed pins. Below the assault on the eyes sat a graphic t-shirt with an emblazoned "#plutowascheated" with the aforementioned former planet wearing shades. Oh and of course Godfrey immediately noticed the open-toed loafers. The older man's ear splitting toothy smile warmed the entire breakfast cafe. All three people in attendance. Like a stage-light panning across a set before settling on Godfrey. 

Knight Man, with a short nod to the scientist, clapped Godfrey on the back and left for some errands. What else was there to do but approach the welcoming arms of this man? A handshake cast aside in favor for a bone-crushing hug Godfrey had little time to prepare himself for. His prosthetics offered little give but neither of them complained. The shoving of a slightly sticky menu into his arms and a wild gesture to sit across the booth ushered Godfrey along. Alrighty. He tucked his backpack further onto his side and scooted in. Not exactly the most comfortable environment to be having this discussion. 

The exposed skin and material of his arms stuck to the seat behind him like hot leather, despite the cool morning air drifting in from the open door behind them. Syrup soaked floors that hadn't been mopped in a week greeted his boots. Even worse than that, the sickly sweet smell coming from every piece of furniture put in mind the thoughts of rot and not food. The nostalgia of it all overpowered any normal sensibilities. So many hours had been spent at small dives like this after he'd covered a piece live. Mixed company of whatever staff accompanied him that day. Strangers, other reporters, and the station's local teleprompter. 

The mood was heavenly. 

Not a word was said between the two of them as they poured over the brief menu. Both oohing and ahhing at options Godfrey was damn sure the doctor had seen before. No matter. Part of the experience he guessed. Settling for a "Firehouse Omelette", and his guest whatever a "Maple Plate" was, they offered their menus up to their server. Dr. Kyurio twitched his ill-kept pencil mustache with a smooth pull of his phone. Passively regarding Godfrey with casual interest. 

"Their food is out of this world. Take it from me. They'll give you this little salsa cup so make sure you cover your food with it as soon as it arrives. Doesn't taste the best plain, I'm afraid."

Godfrey couldn't fault the doctor, an astronomer as revealed from some quick research, for the sense of priority. Eccentricities and odd taste of clothing aside of course. What point was there in living to that age if you couldn't enjoy things at your own pace? Godfrey was more than capable of understanding that. On a fundamental level it made sense. Relating to it, however, remained illusive. The scale of what faced him now outright forbade him from slowing whatever pace he continued to barrel forward at. So many interviews conducted in the previous few weeks. Drowning in his own work like always.

But this discussion couldn't be approached like an interview despite his earlier intentions. Godfrey needed to make himself useful. Present appropriate notes, not questions. Ensure his research and studies could be endorsed by a figurehead prolific in the industry. Which, unfortunately, meant keeping his history hidden would be damn near impossible even if there'd been a remote chance of Dr. Kyurio not knowing who he was. Robot Masters would know his name with scorn only if actively involved with activist circles. Humans? Anyone with a television left on the local news channel would know his face. 

Especially those present before and during the first few Wily Wars. No need to be bashful or quiet. 

"I appreciate the advice Doc. Being frank, I'm surprised you agreed to meet me."

Dr. Kyurio, tapping away on the phone sitting idly on the table, split his attention twofold. The look of surprise when Dr. Kyurio realized Godfrey had been serious stilled his hand. The well-meaning lift in his voice never leaving despite them both knowing all too well what'd been said of Godfrey in the news. Another series of gaps filled in by those who heard of him

"What for? You're one of us now. Science doesn't discriminate."

Oh but it did. Just not in the way that had been intended. Still, Godfrey felt it best to leave things at that. They'd circle back to the topic later. Instead he rummaged through his bag and procured a recently reorganized binder. Interview notes, observations, and printoffs of academic journals all sorted together. A day's worth of organization for months of information. Alongside it, taped to the upper corner of the crinkly paper wrap it sat covered in, was a thumbdrive. The rough footage of each recorded interview thus far labeled and offered willingly. Pushing it across the diminutive space between them struck a chord within Godfrey.

The end of the first step. Miraculous. A jumbled litany of information to digest, sure, but the legwork couldn't be begrudged. Something Dr. Kyurio himself recognized with the phone pushed aside and eyes wide open. The donned reading glasses only further accentuated the strange but welcoming appearance of the man before him. As Dr. Kyurio flipped through page upon page of multicolored sticky notes and shorthand, Godfrey couldn't quite shake off the sense of unease that came with another set of eyes on his work. As slapdash as it may seem, a great deal of effort had been put in. 

Godfrey was no scientist. The world of robotics stood upon the shoulders of titans far beyond his mere comprehension. But Godfrey did what he could to make up for his failings. Past and present. His lack of academic knowledge regarding the technical aspects of robotic anatomy supplemented thrice-fold with the psychology and social understanding of humanity at large. A perspective not often sought from those wishing to understand that which pushed at their own ignorance. All Godfrey could hope for was that it came across in his studies. Terrifying to be standing on the knife's edge when already so full of scars. 

He reflexively tested the sensors in each of his digits. Processing the next canyon needing to be crossed. Picking apart whatever scraps of analysis he'd yet to put to paper. Anything to keep his concentration busy for what seemingly stretched into forever. The interview with Hornet Man being unfortunately cut short meant another needed to be slate in its place. The who remained a mystery. Perhaps reaching out to Elec Man with another inquiry could help with that. Surely they know of another Robot Master worth interviewing? The insight of another generation perhaps? There were a few leads worth pursuing. 

"Godfrey! Consider me impressed! There's just one little hiccup. What's your end goal here?"

The word "change" danced on the tip of his tongue, but that'd get them nowhere fast. The wick of his lofty ambitions would sooner be cut down to size before running down to its stump. Those around wished for light not to be shed. So what felt feasible? In the end, was anything? Damned if he knew, damned if he didn't.

"Some semblance of recognized autonomy."

Dr. Kyurio rapped his fingers on the table in response, a concentrated frown settling into his features. Both palms spread wide across the surface as if bracing for the discussion at hand. Not from anger. In thought. Godfrey knew then he'd hooked the doctor in. Taking that give and running the country mile with it would prove to be far harsher of a task.

"You'll have to narrow it down further if you're planning on taking this to the board. They snuff out proposals in bulk like candles."

The disheveled clutter between them gave way to the incoming platters of food, allowing Godfrey another moment to piece together his own intentions. That and to briefly admire the loaf sized omelette crowding his personal space. So much cheese. The older man simply continued on with a handful of maple soaked sausage and bacon.

"Anyone in their right mind would support this proposal! Don't get me wrong. But unfortunately for us both, few have that luxury anymore. Misinformation is as widespread as the night sky as I'm sure you know all too well about."

Godfrey nodded along. Perhaps the mindset need not change, but instead the head of the multi-necked serpent they're facing to lop off. One of many hounding the lives of both Alpha and Beta linemates. But the blade mattered little here. In its stead was the precision necessary to make the cut. Just what do they use as the first nail in this world-wide coffin? A singular idea came to mind. One possibility considered before the others. 

Bringing out his own journal, he quickly reread his notes on the first interview he'd conducted. Dr. Kyurio meanwhile took the liberty of spreading the salsa on Godfrey's omelet. Seemingly the reflex of a father absentmindedly used to tending to his children. Two lines, the lines, called out as if highlighted in scarlet. 

"That sense of something so inconveniently human, along with his romantic aspirations, is hard to ignore. I just hope others open their eyes long enough to see it"

Could it be that easy? The doorway in as simple as the novelty of romance? Perhaps so. Godfrey pulled a pen from one of his numerous pockets and circled the text. The scope was significantly smaller, sure, but it brought up possibilities previously only touched upon. He took a moment to steady his words lest he trip over his own thoughts. 

"What about the legitimacy of their relationships? The content of my interviews wouldn't have to be altered much, given that all but Elec Man are currently dating someone else. Shouldn't be hard to ride the coattails of social movements as of late either. If it were to be approved, we'd be issuing a loophole for the termination dates."

A piece of sopping wet bacon met Godfrey's gaze, flopping loosely in Dr. Kyurio's enthusiastic hand. Taking great care to spare the pages from its golden ichor. It didn't, however, leave the table unscathed. Perhaps the cause for this booth's wretchedness had outed itself. Himself.

"Precisely! A shelter clause for all of robotkind with the capacity for love."

With a scientist's approval, and the required backing of Dr. Light as well, the impact would reach far greater distances than a simple exception. The very nature of a shelter clause required a permanent documented change. Roboticists possessed the capability for changing global programming in only one legal way. Enacting it an avenue beyond both the public and the media's reach. The be-all end-all of entitlements. 

"It'd be Asimov's Seventh Law. Could we even do that?"

The overloaded plate of cheese, salsa, peppers with an omelet somewhere underneath scooted closer to Godfrey's resting arms. Bumping against skin and synthetics both. Dr. Kyurio beamed at the hope tentatively present in Godfrey's voice. Gesturing with a fork downwards in its presence. An acknowledgment and a reminder, it seemed.

"They'd be damned fools to not listen to us. We'll save that for later though. You've got smoke coming out of your ears! Come, eat with me."

The shadow of his appetite made itself known with a body wracking gurgle. Godfrey paid it little mind in the past few months. An unhealthy habit, sure, but his priorities still remained skewed. Indulging now wouldn't hurt much. So eat he did amidst conversations consisting of family pictures and recent news. The former Godfrey knew little about, and the latter he knew too much. But still. Nostalgia for slightly better than trashy diner food painted the scene in broad strokes of blue as he lost himself in thought. How were Knight Man's errands going?

- - - 

The impression Godfrey left on those passing by the lobby in the Robot Museum? Probably a completely healthy blend of junkie and unaware loiterer. He couldn't will himself to care about the idle stares. He'd spent a good chunk of his life being watched by thousands, so a few dozen more wouldn't hurt. Instead his thoughts buzzed with the future. Backpack slung onto an adjacent chair with care as he fiddled with the zipper. Today could not have gone better. Even the food was moderately well priced. A few caveats needed to be addressed but otherwise they were more than on track. All key points of discussion covered and planned for.

Dr. Kyurio, by Godfrey's own admission, would have to be the face of the proposal. A necessity for the intention's sake which came to the surprise of no one. While the older man was more than willing to disregard the mixed and inconclusive past, the board wouldn't take things quite so gracefully. His association would be limited wherever possible. His own testimony, journals, and notes needed to be presented as is. Diluting the research only clouded the truth in an already muddy environment. The primary movement itself though would be charted by Dr. Kyurio and his son Saturn Kyurio. 

Seemed the latter had a personal stake in the cause. A few shared pictures of a younger man with a fawning pink haired Robot Master trailing alongside gave a good enough depiction of just what level of investment was on the table here. Despite Godfrey's protests of getting someone much younger involved in the potential fallout, Dr. Kyurio heard none of it. His claims of it making things significantly easier in the long run rang true. A movement of three offered far more stability than that of two. No one could bear the burden of every outlet all at once without missing something vital. 

The next set of tasks were fairly straight forward. He needed to finish up one last interview, condense and edit the remaining footage, and forward everything the good doctor's way. Progress became an inevitability instead of a mere possibility. In truth? Godfrey was overjoyed to have made it this far. Content to wait for Knight Man's arrival in a location very few people would actively want him in within a mile's radius. They'd agreed to meet there after Knight Man finished the rest of whatever kept him out and about in the town. Not much was offered as an explanation as to why. Either Knight Man was bashful over his duty, or he simply forgot to mention it.

He wasn't given more time to speculate on the what or the why, however. Stepping in, heavy steps only somewhat muffled in the busy crowd around them both, was Knight Man. Wearing the utmost ridiculous shirt Godfrey had seen in quite some time. Which was saying a great deal given the entire circus Dr. Kyurio wore just two hours prior this morning. He stood to his feet, meeting the Robot Master halfway, and took in the dark plum shirt punctured by the spikes adorning their body. Godfrey snickered a little but otherwise kept enough composure to ask a straight-laced, "Proud of yourself, huh?"

For on the shirt were the side profiles of every House Robot in Robot Wars history, arranged in marching columns. At the very end of the lineup stood an adorable chibi rendition of Knight Man. Oversized flail ball in hand with a dour demeanor. So incredibly unlike everything Godfrey had seen of the bot up to this point in their friendship. To be fair, he'd yet to get to the episodes where Knight Man appeared himself. The fact that only one Robot Master stood among their simplistic peers told volumes of the position and the importance it had. Still, he'd be failing his duty if he didn't clown on him just a little.

For his part, Knight Man's LCD's beamed with pride through the helmet's exposed visor. Joy pouring forth from the brighter than usual light and voice alone. Such a simple thing to notice and yet Godfrey couldn't help but smile back as Knight Man gestured down enthusiastically. The metal finger tapping aloud on his rendition wasn't necessary per say, but it sure felt so. Godfrey guessed he wasn't as immune to being charmed as he once thought. Or, more likely, his uplifted mood had a great deal to do with it. 

"To see my visage on their official merchandise? It's an honor few others can claim. I bear it with pride."

He sure did. Godfrey felt a pang of shame for having not witnessed the proud bot's claim to fame yet. Another situation he'd neglected in favor of his project. Perhaps this failure worked in their favor though. Twisting this reminder into a concentrated effort to relax and enjoy life just a little more. Just this once. Or, given his recent history with Knight Man, twice. A way to celebrate! Not to the completion of the proposal, no, but instead that they'd even made it this far to begin with. Not just him. They both made this possible.

This unexpected friend of his. They needed to celebrate too albeit for different reasons. So why hesitate? Godfrey couldn't second guess himself here. Stopping to think would just result in another night alone poking and prodding at footage for hours on end. Grabbing onto Knight Man's arm, he spun them both around back towards the entrance of the building. The few stares this pulled in too went unmentioned. Let the public assume what they'd like as was their nature.

"You deserve to celebrate! Come along now."

Knight Man stumbled only for a moment. A great deal of weight to suddenly tumble forward but he caught himself before he could crush any unfortunate souls. No words of argument were brought about. No denial or refusal. Sensing the playful finality in Godfrey's voice perhaps? Whatever the reason, he stepped in line soon afterwards with an "On your word, sir".

"Good! I'm behind a few episodes, and who better to catch me up to speed than the bot of the hour himself?"

The sharp pivot of Knight Man's head as they both stepped outside of the building signaled to Godfrey he'd nailed this outing front and center. The Robot Master was a glutton for company even if he never made it known verbally. The signs were there though. Their putt putt "tourney" days prior resulted in them both paying out of pocket to go three rounds in. On the same course. Godfrey was thoroughly thrashed each time but he struggled to think of a night he'd enjoyed more in recent memory. Even his previous hangouts with the Poet and Air Man had limits on just how comfortable he could be around them. Always something to hide.

Those moments of almost unrestricted freedom that came to mind typically involved Knight Man's company, so perhaps the presence of one unquestioning was all that'd been needed. His goal this night? Fix up his futon into a couch, hook up his old laptop to the tv, and binge the remaining five episodes with an expert's commentary alongside him. His shack was surely big enough for two, right? He'd never hosted for anyone other than himself there before. No promises on the floor holding steady. It barely supported Godfrey's admittedly heavy weight. A day never went by that he didn't curse his steel beam of a spine.

The poorly ingrained instinct that he'd left something behind flared, but Godfrey quelled it well enough by grabbing the ID he'd hooked onto the clip of his belt. Couldn't afford to be losing things now. Besides, they'd yet to even discuss dinner! So while he answered Knight Man's inquisitive questions regarding his meeting with Dr. Kyurio, he contemplated the dietary options of Robot Masters. Another element he knew next to nothing about. Some could consume human foods. He'd seen as much. Was that common practice though? And what the hell was an E-Tank?

He doubted Knight Man would enjoy the expired sausage withering away at home in his shack's freezer. 

-/-/-

Me: hey!

Me: dn't mean to bthr u nd ur boo

Me: wht do u guys eat?

Me: Robot Masters i mean
L -MESSAGE UNABLE TO BE SENT-
TO:「DWN-10 CHASSIS, WILY REGISTRY OF ROBOTICS」

Me: sry. reception is ass
L -MESSAGE UNABLE TO BE SENT-
TO:「DWN-10 CHASSIS, WILY REGISTRY OF ROBOTICS」

-/-/-

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Me: test
L -MESSAGE UNABLE TO BE SENT-
TO:「DWN-10 CHASSIS, WILY REGISTRY OF ROBOTICS」

-/-/-

Me: test
L -MESSAGE UNABLE TO BE SENT-
TO:「DLN-08 CHASSIS, LIGHT REGISTRY OF ROBOTICS」

-/-/-

Me: test

DWN-44: Something amiss in the kitchen?

Me: nthn

Me: fraid i dn't have mch to offr 4 food

DWN-44: Your concern is warming, but I insist I'll be fine. 

-/-/-

Godfrey's meager offering, a box of offbrand crackers, were ignored much in the same way a cat disregards an unpleasant toy. Better than the sausage flavored block of ice looming about in his freezer. At least Godfrey tried. The outcome was to be expected even if he'd wanted to provide food worthy of a celebration. He'd need a raise, or three, for that to become even a remote possibility. Frugal saving could only stretch things so far. His new laptop slashed through his operable budget in a single evening. He'd suffer in silence if it meant the project could continue on as normal.

Joining Knight Man out in the "living" room took all of a few steps and crossing a corner. The space itself benefited greatly from Knight Man's appearance, for at least then it held something of worth. The majority of what he owned of any value he carried alongside him at all times. That or he stored in the trunk of his car. He made a mental note to retrieve his bag from the trunk. Godfrey could list the contents of the shack on two hands. The majority of which he could see now from where he stood. Among his many possessions was a now buckled futon. Knight Man apologized profusely for afterward, but Godfrey thought the laugh was worth the hassle. It needed binned anyway.

Other than that? A decrepit tv, an industrial coat stand, a corner piece coffee table, his cracked glass standing desk, and an office chair with no arms. The small bathroom and washroom combo probably held the only things worth stealing: his fairly new washer and dryer. Hard to nail interviews when smelling like the shack he lived in. It proved to be a simple pleasure to indulge in too. Clean clothes reminded him of his old routine at the studio. Staying up the night before to press his pants and vest, tie set aside for whatever mood the next story was supposed to be told in. 

Knight Man, legs crossed, sat on the floor adjacent to the worn mat they'd source from outside to make the rough carpet a smidge more bearable. Not that the Robot Master needed it, of course, so it'd been promptly given back to Godfrey. Who was he to argue with making his night more comfortable? The momentum from dropping to the floor sent Godfrey bumping into Knight Man's stock-still posture with a laugh. Like walking into a boulder, that, but the humor in it struck just the same. The following silence was waved off as fixation. Knight Man, as Godfrey continued to learn, was really into Robot Wars. 

It was a good thing that Knight Man was a Robot Master, as Godfrey doubted any single human could store just so much trivia about essentially RC bots smashing each other to bits. They'd yet to even reach the episodes where the first Alpha Bot made its debut. Safe to assume the enthusiasm would more than triple then. He listened just the same, watching the enraptured Knight Man ramble on about the model inefficiencies of a weighted hammer arm compared to a motorized disc. Hull material differences, performance records, and even a sly mention or two of a sizable collection of Robot War replica models. 

But as the night continued on, things shifted. Godfrey liked to think himself a fairly decent judge of character. Reading a room essential for conducting comprehensive interviews, of course. At least to the point where he could recognize the signs of discomfort. So when Knight Man's colorful commentary subsided into quiet mentions of offhand episodes? Something had gone awry. The Robot Master's attention seemingly drifted anywhere but the color-faded TV. Taking in the shack's less than lavish interior no doubt. But by the thirty minute mark, Godfrey decided to nip the problem in the bud. No point in either of them dwelling on things. 

"Looking for something?"

Knight Man continued to stare practically through the cheap walls surrounding them both. Surveying each imperfection like assessing a foe. No effort was made to turn towards Godfrey before he spoke out. The gradually building sense of disquiet only bubbled further with Knight Man's tone. The calm, collected aura so becoming of his presence pushed aside in favor of anger. Concealed well, yes, but still present. A fighter's wrath reigned in and honed from experience. That never bode well. 

"I apologize for my bluntness, but what is this squalor? You work for the state. Surely you sleep elsewhere?"

That? Hardly anything to get worked up over. Godfrey tore open a sleeve of crackers and gestured out with one inside. He knew better than to try to inject humor into the situation. The reasoning for why Godfrey stockpiled as much of his little income as he did required touching a topic best left alone. Or, for that matter, why the park could get away with paying him so little. His silence on the matter the result of the barrel pressed against his temple. 

"What you see is what you get. Sorry to disappoint."

The dearmed cannon pressed into the floor beneath with a crack. A mere test of durability, one which failed miserably. The noticeable indent left behind told Knight Man something Godfrey could hazard a guess at. Either way the bot wasn't seated much longer. Pacing around the room paying little mind to the possibility of further damage. All in the relative quiet of their dark room plagued by the too-loud squeaking of the ceiling fan above. Knight Man's attitude made little sense given the situation. Surely he wasn't this into Godfrey's living conditions?

Crimson beams shone past the restrictive guise of the helmet's visor. Flicking about as if desperate to purge the sight of the room before him with mere thought alone. Best of luck with that. Godfrey long since lost that fight. He rose to his feet, wiped his crumb covered hands on his legs, and reached out a hand to placate. 

"It's not so bad, really. Let's just get back to the show."

Godfrey reflexively shielded his eyes from the sudden blinding glare as Knight Man's attention finally diverted back to Godfrey. First his partially covered face. That lingered for only a moment, as instead the outstretched hand took precedence. A moment of silence once again stretched past the point of comfort as Godfrey reached up to yank the pull-cord of the living room's light. Hopefully to illuminate whatever fixated Knight Man so in a shade other than red.

His left hand, sans the riding gloves; fingertips peeled back to reveal the gleam of metal. Oh.

"How long?"

The posh inflection died in whatever hole the dream of having a pleasant night rotted in. Godfrey inadvertently plunged in too deep once again. There'd be no avoiding this now. It didn't make an ounce of sense for why it even mattered but answers were something he owed Knight Man in droves. 

"End of the third Wily War. Car accident."

Knight Man, with wavering patience, grabbed the prosthetic by the wrist and twisted the palm upwards. The damage from the pond and the subsequent scrubbing scored much of the synthetic flesh that'd remained there. Rubbed raw down to the plastic and titanium. The filtered huff crackled from stressed circuits lacked any sense of humor. 

"My apologies, let me rephrase. How long since you received this battle damage?"

"Our trip into the pond."

Apparently that'd been the answer Knight Man expected. Gently lowering the hand down, he took a step back and vented a wave of heat from his chassis. His voice took on a dejected air similar to the setting of his shoulders. Godfrey scrambled to keep up with whatever logical leaps and bounds were being made here. 

"You've bore this wound for weeks now in my stead."

Nope. Godfrey would be having none of that. Knight Man's frustrating sense of chivalry all but ensured every favor done came as recompense. Godfrey expected nothing in return for his seemingly meager gestures. Surely that damn shield wasn't worth this much. He'd just been doing his job. Not every service needed to be transactional. Godfrey wanted for nothing of the sort nor would that ever change. Clenching his palm into a tight-fisted pointer, he crossed the distance and pressed it against the yellow metal surrounding his core. His heat sensors flared at the searing temperature.

For them to run this hot, something else must be going on. Signs of stress were oftentimes unique to each Robot Master but it required no guesswork to assume Knight Man had worked himself up into a fervor. Was this an ongoing issue he'd just kept quiet? Either way, Godfrey was shutting down the argument before it spiraled. 

"I scraped myself on the job. Stop taking it as some valiant sacrifice you have to repay again. You have done far-"

"What else are you veiling under secrecy, sir?"

His sentence died in his throat at that. Splashed across the face with medieval-themed ice cubes. He'd desperately wished to avoid this topic at all costs but squeezing a word felt impossible. Knight Man wouldn't be giving up the momentum just yet, as he trucked on. Paying no mind to gradually closing posture of the man he lectured.  

"Lies are heresy, befitting those mistaken in believing it's the path of least resistance. You straddle the divide. Unwilling to lie, but in its stead obscuring the truth. For what reason must you harvest my suspicions?"

Fear boiled, bubbles pushing at the lid of what Godfrey could contain. Nothing of Knight Man's controlled gestures clued him in on the meaning behind this. Where had this frustration kept itself before now? The ordeal of keeping his unease muted banished away whatever goodwill had been spawned by the hours leading to this. But only when Knight Man's tirade continued on did Godfrey began to see the bigger picture.

"Your Keep is liable to kill you in your sleep! The notion hasn't escaped your attention given your preclusion with my weight, yet you care not for yourself?"

Godfrey knew himself to be many things. Unquestionable was not one of them. But he could only accept so much ridicule from a Robot Master whose friendship with him stretched past merely a month now. It was not Knight Man's place to care. Godfrey's right to such a thing had been revoked the day he placed his hand on the neck of another and pulled. 

"What other options do I have?"

Knight Man began listing deluded options on his hand, each finger carrying on as if Godfrey's future hadn't been set in stone three years ago. Delusional. All of this.

"Relocate. Apply your talents elsewhere. Reporter, investigative journalist, or potentially even a media recruiter? Something aside from wasting away in this dungeon here. You're deserving of far better conditions. Surely you see that."

The shock to the system wounded Godfrey beyond his wildest expectations. A gash far deeper than any shard of glass had once left behind. Marred and bleeding emotions he considered frivolous in the face of a greater cause. It hadn't been born from Knight Man never investing an ounce of time to research who Godfrey was. That'd been expected and in a way appreciated. Frustratingly, the steadfast trust that'd grown since their brief time together remained unbroken even now. That would be his fatal wound if any. 

"You really don't know, do you? Who I was? Elec Man must've told you something."

An inquisitive and assuredly frustrated head tilt signaled a mind already decided now curious for answers. Enticed by the carrot on the string dangled above but too stubborn to admit the desire to reach out.

"I know of the individual standing before me now, but perhaps not the man you see yourself as. Elec Man spouts far too much drivel for my taste to listen."

He saw himself as a wounded animal now. Liable to lash out or crumple under the weight of his own admission. So Godfrey placed the metaphorical noose around his neck and to Knight Man the rope. Only one solution waited them both now. In line to swing off the precipice like every time prior.

"Look me up."

The Robot Master reeled back as if struck by a weapon far heavier than Godfrey could even fathom. The possibility of questioning someone's identity an abhorrent suggestion apparently. 

"Sir?!?"

With the acceptance of a man facing a firing squad he'd long since been accustomed to, Godfrey squared up to Knight Man. Holding himself high for potentially the last time. Now it was the other's turn to feel the weight of the past. Observe the disaster as one would a fatal car accident. Van overturned, doused in flames and broken ideals.

"You're asking for answers I can't provide. But they can. You know my name. Look it up."

Seeing Knight Man step back dealt the final blow. His strength wavered as this upcoming loss pushed on his already dulling senses. With a quiet "excuse me", Godfrey hurried over to his ramshackle bathroom and locked the door behind him. A bulb's chain pulled later and he came faced to face with the source of his woes. 
Himself.

A remarkably clean mirror reflecting a man whose allegiance parted far more than just a line in the sand. Resolute in dedication and unwavering in conviction, yet fated to fall upon his own blade just the same. Grey eyes flicking from one familiar feature to another in the hopes to fixate on something. Anything other than the friendship he'd lead to the gallows. But the only man to witness it all and come back unscathed was simply that: a reflection. Intangible and blameless for the crimes of its counterpart. On what metric could he ever compare? 

His sensors began to stream warnings about the unhealthy pressure placed on the metal sink. Leaving the interior of it lined with his indented fingerprint, just another reminder of what not to do. Enough of it. All of it. The secrecy, the hidden struggles and self-assumed causes. Godfrey's options narrowed themselves further as he dug his right hand into the slit connecting his shoulder mount to the actual prosthesis. Deactivating the electrical impulses required time he simply didn't have. Each pulse of pain as the numerous endings forcefully disconnected a tablespoon of preparation for what came next.

Blurred vision and the faint quelling of his surroundings told him he'd overloaded the system. Numb again. Thankfully. By the point he pried the joint out of its metallic socket, Godfrey could only casually notice the inflamed skin surrounding the port. Cracked and bleeding from constant use. Must've been a long while since he last took it off. Dousing it in rubbing alcohol, he shrugged off the urge to bite through his tongue. No worries. He'd been busy.

Busy. So busy. 

- - -

From the polished metal on Knight Man's chassis, Godfrey could see his sitting reflection clear as day. He'd changed into his usual nightwear in the time it took Knight Man to rouse himself from his deep-dive on the internet. Gym shorts and a grey baggy cardigan. Visible too was the unnatural angle the remaining portion of his left shoulder presented under the fabric. Only thickening out as it pushed into his ribcage. But this was him. His shame had never been sourced from his injuries, but in his survival. Living long enough to sit here on his creaking office chair with grit teeth. 

The impossibly fast walls of text scrolling inside Knight Man's screens cleared themselves as he affixed his gaze on Godfrey. Flashing his displays a few time to readjust to the changes at hand. They took a glimpse of the unnaturally missing portion of his body momentarily, only to be brought back by the question Godfrey asked aloud. His impatience rang clear in his voice.

"The results?"

Knight Man shook his head with uncharacteristic apathy. As if he didn't just waterboard himself with countless news articles about the horror show his once friend involved himself in. It mattered little though, as the iron conviction in his voice didn't escape either of them. Strange. 

"Inconclusive. Nothing more than insulting caricatures lacking your complexity or nuance. They're simply meaningless. I believe I asked you a question first."

Frustrating even to the last push. So be it.

"I'd been a reporter, once. Before you were ever constructed as I'm sure you found out. When I told you the project was the start of righting a long series of wrongs, I hadn't been lying. My coverage on the first three Wily Wars was partially responsible for the wall you all face now. I'd reached hundreds of thousands."

Godfrey jutted his chin towards the cannonball sized absence where a normal portion of the human body would be. As if he'd been on the receiving end of that gnarly flail Knight Man wielded. 

"Never made it to the fourth. I lost everything when Wily set Gamma loose on the city. My body, my coworkers, my illusions, and my rights."

Seeing the gears turn behind Knight Man's head brought only a grim sense of inevitability. Something didn't quite add up for Knight Man, stepping closer with a confused lilt.

"You survived though. Scarred and beaten but alive, lest my eyes deceive me."

Had he though?

"Do you call this living? And for what? Three years scrambling on my hands and knees to merely just scratch at the walls I built! I'm sure they'd both be so proud."

Knight Man seized briefly, flashing information across his HUD as he tried to recall a name. Finally settling on the one forever associated with Godfrey's legacy. For good reason too.

"Tristin?"

There it was. Further proving not how one sided the situation had been from the get-go, but instead Godfrey's duty to obscure the poor bot's presence. He'd give himself a pat on the back if it hadn't been done to circumvent a disaster thoroughly encouraged by his own actions. 

"And a nurse. Bet you won't find any articles about that, huh? The alpha bot who found us both in the crater we crashed in. Swept in with no regard for his own safety."

"That's our duty, sir."

The back of his chair groaned as he leaned his weight away from Knight Man. Repelled by the mindset he so desperately tried to revoke from the public. That was the problem. Perpetually. The Alpha and Beta Lines were not second class. Twas not their responsibility to throw themselves away. Not anymore, and certainly not for the likes of Godfrey and his peers. His actions now weren't designed for redemption. A glimmer of hatred shown through his crumbling facade. 

"Well you're a fool. Brilliant thinking there ridiculing me for my own inaction while you continue to live a lie. Your so-called duty is to them! To serve and to die. They'll find a way to write you off too! They always do."

The thought alone of the Robot Masters he'd come to know, either in passing or in person, scrapped? Lifeless in some molten graveyard of reused metal and salvaged parts? It thrummed beneath the intoxicating deficiency of his sensations. Threatening a dam long overdue . But perhaps Godfrey could use this opportunity to teach Knight Man something of value. Himself. If tonight were to be their last moments spent as friends, then he'd be damned if he couldn't save the bot. Hopefully ushering him to a better end than the inevitability that awaited the nurse. 

"You want the truth?"

The response never came. Godfrey's eyes stung. Limbs long gone quaking at the task before him. Let it be said he tried until the last. He pivoted around in his chair and strode over to his older laptop. The episode closed in favor for perusing through countless folders of research. Even further than them into his maze of storage were the articles. Relics of a career he once paraded about like a prized horse. Lapping up the praise and the pride welling from within. 

"To serve and to die. I did plenty of both. Befouled robotkind to the public and later defended the lives of those I'd slandered. Each time I'd been met with the same reaction."

He finally arrived at the damning article that brought his career to a close. Published and sponsored by his own studio. There he was. Same haunting visage as when Elec Man questioned him weeks ago. Eyes as cold and dead as the thousand corpses helilifted off the smoldering city streets. He'd been wheelchair bound on route to the court house. His extensive surgeries left him incapable of walking for the longest time. 

"Merrick on Trial! Hundreds cheer, justice for beloved activist."
- "Law Enforcement keeps peace among attending divisions"

"The studio needed a scapegoat for sending two reporters to their deaths. Martial law forbade us from being there to begin with."

His smile was involuntary as he looked up to the headline one last time. The publicist made short work of the situation. Well deserving of their position. Besides that, the irony of it all never quite left him.

"Tristin was an underground activist. Only found out when his phone records were released to the public, another of the studio's numerous intentional mishandlings. My fingerprints were all that'd been necessary to take me to court. In one fell swoop they diverted the public's attention to their robot-hating murderer and the gruesome death of a cameraman. My later acquittal meant nothing."

The lid of the laptop clicked shut, wiping the television's display of the snippet of time. Knight Man's approaching footsteps were barely muffled by the carpet giving way. Stopping only a few feet behind Godfrey's squatting form with a voice far gentler than anything he deserved. The question was identical to those dozens barraged him with before. The only difference being that Knight Man held Godfrey's respect and admiration. A man who sought the truth out of concern, not vindication. There'd be no hiding things this time. No intentional obfuscation or half truths. 

"Did you?"

The admission thousands wished for choked away in the silence. Godfrey could only will himself to nod. Only just. Pain took root and spread as an ivy unchecked by his fractured sensors. His labored breathing the harbinger of a torrent of sobs soon to follow. Taking solace in his ability to save face meant nothing when faced with a first. A first time confession, the first time he'd ever trusted in someone enough to warrant the truth. Yet the situation came to be from his own inability to reveal the life he lived. Knight Man deserved better. Of anyone Godfrey came to know, surely he'd understand that this conviction was not born of malice. 

Desperate hope fueled his words. A crippling desire to no longer be alone in the demented world he wallowed in. Opening himself up to further torment be damned. 

"The nurse snapped something in his neck. He was dying and the alpha bot just fucking stood there. Crying and spouting some god awful gibberish. He knew they'd have his head for it and I was the witness. The reporter who spoonfed lies to the masses on a weekly basis. He shouldn't have been any different."

Continuing on should've been easier. Instead he faced an incline requiring one limb too many to surmount. No longer a hill to die on as he'd pushed himself off long ago. This belief in a cause fueled solely by redemption of not himself but an entirely new line of sentient beings made up the whole. Knowing who he'd once been though hurt. Gods did it hurt. 

"But what did I do? Watched like an idiot surprised that they had emotions. I didn't even know they could get hysterical! How was I supposed to know? Machines! They were supposed to be machines. But everyone was running scared. Machines don't get scared. People get scared." 

The wet gasp in of a breath finally held steady. Offering on a moment's notice stable ground. Godfrey rose to his feet and faced the one man jury as he confessed. He relinquished whatever control he had over the present, the past, and his future in favor of a robot he'd just met a month or so ago. Tears blurred navy into indecipherable purples and shades of grey. 

"So yeah. I did. I was supposed to die with Tristin. The nurse should've just ran away like I told him to and left us there."

His palm pressed into his damp eyes brought memories of bone and glass, banished away by another heavy robotic step. Bathed in red as Knight man echoed a sense of understanding undeserved. 

"But he didn't."

Of course not. By saving Godfrey, he'd inadvertently made the plight of robotkind significantly worse. A chocolate shell coating a rotting carcass underneath. The trial proved to be the only appeasing action to ever cross the gap between both sides; and it was all a farce. A laugh, genuine and startling, came to light through the fried nerves and streaks of wet skin. It was funny to think how similar they all were. 

"You're a bunch of selfless bastards."

Knight Man took the jest in stride. Stepping into arms reach with his right hand outstretched. It hovered near Godfrey's left side with the promise of comfort. He spoke out with a jab and an offer. Warmth had eased away the cold steel of his words before. All of it befitting of a knight. Of course he'd know when to sheathe his sword. The duel had been won when they first met. Godfrey just hadn't known it yet, he supposed. 

"Pot calling the kettle black, sir. Just so you're aware. May I?"

Another feebly attempted nod was all it took to be pulled in by an impossibly gentle arm. Heated metal warming the chills Godfrey hadn't even noticed were there. It was only when firmly secured against the mountain of blue that he realized just how unsteady his stance had been. Godfrey was far from a lightweight. He'd long since learned to throw his weight around when push came to shove. But here? He trusted in their strength. It was a great comfort to just let himself go limp in Knight Man's arm as the Robot Master did what he could to soothe. 

"My deepest apologies. Godfrey, truly. My attempts to pry were from concern of your well-being. Nothing else. I'd known not an ounce of this."

Pulling back for a moment afforded Godfrey the opportunity to peer past the helmet's division and into the darkness within. Dimmed LCD's stared back, echoing sentiments alien and unfamiliar. An achingly soft gaze reigned in. Godfrey could count the individual pixels as Knight Man continued on unphased by this proximity. It became apparent that there'd been much to say. How much of it would be aired this night, neither of them knew.

"Learning this simply added another piece of the stained glass portrait I still find myself pondering upon. For that, I regret nothing. You're a miraculous warrior. Besieged by the very standard you fight under. But even the strongest knight is nothing without their squires. Toil alone in rubbish no longer."

Perhaps the medieval metaphors and symbolism were being stretched a hair too thin. Knight Man noticed Godfrey's bemusement and, with a roll of his eyes, dropped the pretense. 

"Just lean on me, sir. I'd rather know of this world you live in if that's alright with you."

That Godfrey could do. He knew this would come up again. Whatever warped image Knight Man held of Godfrey wouldn't stand the test of time. But for now? The comfort of a friend eased the burden of years tainted by his own shadow. Hungering to be nothing more than a reflection wielding the arms of change. After all; 

The project would continue on regardless. 

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Me: gd morning

Me: hav u seen my bag?

DWN-44: Fine morning to you too! The journey to work treat you well?

DWN-44: And no, afraid not, although earlier you professed to housing it in your trunk. Check there!

Me: smrt. thx

DWN-44: Of course

Me: its gone

DWN-44: No worries! Retrieving it should be trivial. It's fairly large, after all.

Me: we cn hope

-/-/-

Of the few positives he kept track of from working at the Murphy County Park, the ability to pace the grounds without attracting an errant stare felt notable enough. Direction became meaningless in a public park. Wandering about an expectation and not an anomaly. Afternoons like this left him too agitated to simply sit behind the front desk and wait until the evening's obligations reared their head. He'd only be surrounded by unfamiliar workers from the morning shift anyway. Not a single familiar face, robotic or otherwise. A startling first since he'd been hired on. Strange to think how deep that realization dug beneath his skin.

Air Man had tendered his request to transfer to another location sometime during the weekend. Circumventing the park's closure by physically handing in the form to a supervisor off-hours. What Godfrey initially mistook for leave was in actuality a permanent relocation. No warning issued to his peers either. Godfrey heard no mention of the Robot Master's intentions from Air Man himself. Of course not. It took painfully little to deduce that he'd been blocked. Instead Godfrey learned from digging into the approved paperwork issued for filing. Technically a minor breach in security to have them just out and about but he doubted his supervisors cared about the infraction. 

The haste at which this'd been done rang a cathedral's worth of bells. At least it would for just about anyone else. But Godfrey knew this to be nothing more than the inevitable conclusion of his life's work. Robot Master or not, someone somewhere was bound to recognize him. Word never failed to spread fast. He'd been culled. Cutting the infection off before it risked the well-being of those afflicted only made sense. Not disclosing the true purpose behind the project to those he interviewed could easily confirm whatever suspicions they harbored. Theories ran rampant even at the best of times. 

He'd been tempted to reach out to Percy, assuming the man hadn't blocked Godfrey at the first sniff of trouble. Other than Knight Man and Dr. Kyurio, the Poet knew the most about the very nature of the project. The proposal itself dating far back to their first meeting in fact. And Godfrey's wish for a momentary explanation pushed him to almost sending that inquiry. But by doing so, he'd bring into conflict Percy's relationship with Air Man. The loss of contact did nothing to alter Godfrey's sense of priorities. The lives of those around him mattered more than recouping the lost information at hand. So he left it be.

Godfrey wished them the best, truly, as they battened down the hatches to weather out the storm coming for them all. Instead his concerns sat elsewhere. A klaxon only growing louder with each hour it spent unaccounted for: his bag. Far, far too much information had been accumulated since the project first began. Much of which he still had copies of on his older laptop. But his journals, shorthand notes, original interview files, and edited footage? Potentially gone forever if some thief pilfered his gear and ran off with the spoils. It'd be a good haul for them too. That laptop was anything but cheap. 

And the custom camcorder? That stung the most. Dr. Kyurio kept the raw footage from the interviews on the flash drive. Those could be edited down again if need be. Making copies of the notes bound in the original presentation's binder an unfortunate necessity. But no amount of time spent hunched over folders and files could replicate the functions of that camcorder. It served as the last meager relic of the life he once lived. A gift from his studio after the first Wily War. He treasured it immensely at the time, and in part still did. Enough to have it fitted alongside the mount installed into his shoulder prosthesis. 

The physical therapy requirements to adjust to the additional weight were more than worth the comfort it provided. Not any longer. Commitment he could cultivate in spades. Income? Not so much. Steeling himself for its loss made for a piss poor morning experience. Compartmentalizing it lessened the severity of the wound even if it fell on the more unhealthy side of his habits. Such as obsessively checking his voicemail every fifteen minutes in the vain hope he'd missed the call back from the museum. Reception there probably staffed themselves with sloths and potted plants, for all he knew.

Infuriating. But what else could Godfrey do, loitering about with the day's obligations long since completed until nightfall? Well...

-/-/-

Me: hw do th robts compare 2 th futon?

Me: esier or hrder. scale 1-10

DWN-44: Demented question! I commend your thinking.

DWN-44: I highly doubt I'd ever be afforded the opportunity to use my weight in such a manner.

DWN-44: They're typically far too agile for me to pull them down let alone lay atop them. The results would surely be spectacular though!

Me: shame. pple would pay 4 tht. 

DWN-44: To witness or to participate? I'm not following.

Me: ;P

DWN-44: OH

DWN-44: You scoundrel. 

-/-/-

With a grin, he pocketed his phone and continued down the path. His favorite bench passed by in favor of reaching that damned pond. A core part of Godfrey was eternally grateful that their interactions hadn't changed since his confession the night prior. Even if it meant Knight Man too lived in a world tainted by grey. Godfrey wasn't exactly the type to openly make himself vulnerable to others. He'd been raised all his life by those claiming it only left him weaker. Just soldier on and store any and all feelings into a box never to be touched again. Like that was a viable strategy. Still, it'd left an indelible mark on just how he approached people. More than that, it forever changed just how he thought others saw him.

An obsession with appearances. 

To deceive others into believing the same story he preached. 

He the shepherd for a flock of fools. 

He'd been a blind man tutoring thousands into ignorance. Everyone held the right to pin his own failures to his chest. Bloodied tacks driving home the shame held within. But seemingly no one could sway Knight Man into thinking anything other than his own. He was neither wolf nor lamb. So their conversations continued on as normal. Funny. As if lifting this weight off Godfrey's shoulders amounted to an afternoon's greeting. Baffling. Utterly baffling and so off-course from what Godfrey could ever expect that it left him doubting the humanity of Knight Man. Or perhaps mankind detached itself from its core beliefs over the years he'd been alive.

His relief of it all gave way to the last hurdle to trouble Godfrey. The proposal needed one last interview. Another Robot Master to round out the small but reasonable sample size. Dr. Kyurio's connections could produce endless leads to follow, but only for the doctor to take advantage of. Godfrey knew only one Robot Master left unmarred by whatever information had spread. The very same one who he desperately wished to keep away from the outcry that would surely follow. Not that it mattered much to Knight Man. He willingly leapt at every opportunity to dive further in. For chivalry and such.

A admirable fool, him. The night prior told Godfrey a great deal about his armored friend in navy plate. Other than the depths of that Robot Wars fascination, a disdain for rickety furniture and peeling wallpaper, and an unusual obsession in Godfrey's health. Knight Man harbored within blind faith. Raw and untouched by the ongoings of the world. Godfrey's "noble" cause inspired something within the Robot Master and that'd been enough. Nothing impressed and befuddled more than that. Knight Man was far from naive too. Willingly oblivious, perhaps, but he was no fool. Hope and belief went hand in hand, so perhaps Godfrey could learn a thing or two.

But just what could Knight Man tell him that'd be beneficial for the project? The proposal's tonal change into romance and capacity for love required a connection to the base topic. Knight Man presented no such flair. There'd been zero indication that he was in a committed relationship or that he'd even considered it before with someone else, human or otherwise. Elec Man's interview provided some essential tidbits regarding that. Robot Masters too varied on the romantic and sexual spectrum. Perhaps Knight Man was the robot equivalent of asexual? Or, more likely, Godfrey just never asked. 

Morbid curiosity, tainted by a feeling of anxiety, left him conflicted on even asking. Prying into Knight Man's inner life felt wrong. Unmentionable. All Robot Masters deserved their privacy, but Knight Man provided so much of his own services at his own expense. Not everything needed to be aired out for others to read into and yet that never stopped Knight Man from willingly presenting the pages of his own book. But on the other side of the coin, Godfrey would be blatantly lying if he said these topics didn't interest him. Learning more about Knight Man felt gratifying. 

Like clipping onto a file a new set of notes only to continue again. Not exactly a common feeling for those he'd interviewed before no matter how invested he knew himself to be. Perhaps their friendship left Godfrey too close to the topic's pulse. That much was certain. But he'd been left with no other choice. At what point did he draw a line in the sand? Professional courtesy clashed with genuine interest and the drive to bring home the end of this project. The end justified the means. Knight Man would surely get a kick out of this. Consequences be damned, that'd be his cross to bear. 

Coming to a stop in front of the pond, he took a moment to look at his own reflection peering up from the surface. Driven and inquisitive shades of grey met his own eyes. Waiting to harden in the presence of another as they always did. They both seemed so tired. Of the project, or themselves, he couldn't guess. A month or so of actual progress flocked by years of preparation and sacrifice. The proposal just surpassed its first steps in infancy. He couldn't afford to falter now. So with the toe of his boot stirring away his counterpart, he pulled his flip-phone out of his pocket once again.

No time like the present. 

-/-/-

DWN-44: OH

DWN-44: You scoundrel. 

Me: spking of whch. srry 2 ask, bt could u b the last interview?

DWN-44: Say not a word more! Here I'd been, twiddling my thumbs awaiting the day you'd ask. 

Me: uhuh. arn't u at wrk?

DWN-44: My obligations on-set take priority, certainly, so how about we reconvene Saturday?

Me: shld hav my cam the

Me: then.

DWN-44: Splendid!

Me: ill keep u updted.

DWN-44: On your word

-/-/-

Chapter Text

Subject: Knight Man
Dr. X Model Number 44.
Beta Line Robot Master, Sixth Generation

The First Annual Robot Tournament, and in part Dr. Wily with his multiple identities, is considered by most roboticists to mark the death of precise serial numbers. The Board's standard labeling conventions would have the casual observer believe Knight Man is nothing more than a byproduct of "Dr. X's" endorsement of the tournament. A Robot Master designed and constructed for war. Unfortunately very few other records dispute this believed tidbit. Hell, even I can't trace the source of Knight Man's original creator. To follow that line of logic would prove to be a critical disservice to the complexities apparent at every minute level. 

Knight Man, in my relatively skewed eyes, never failed to surprise. Even what's present on the surface holds a great deal of depth. For example: as his namesake suggests, Knight Man upholds all that is chivalrous and stereotypically knightly. One would think initially to a fault. However, he's cognizant of this and has made it abundantly clear that maintaining appearances is a choice and not a programmed rule. He openly admires the code of honor oftentimes romanticized by historical depictions of the period. This does, however, mean he's frustratingly willing to play the role of a squire. Just how much of that disregard for his own well-being can be attributed to his robotic nature?

It's an equally endearing and blood-boiling trait to just casually embody. 

Seemingly after the sixth Wily War though, he'd diverted his unique battle-specific skill set elsewhere. I'm sure many of you who end up reading this have seen him there already. Robot Wars. A "House Bot" for the newest season of Robot Wars, to be precise. The notion is ridiculous. Yet, Knight Man's charm and self-assured nature lend themselves beautifully to the role. I'd watched one of the recent episodes with begrudging interest as part of a favor. Having witnessed his stoic persona absolutely obliterate those who strayed too close, I can see the public appeal. It's a caricature but in some ways it rings true. Knowing what I do of this Robot Master, my admiration only grows.

We oftentimes praise men bred for war who subvert their judged talents to bring joy to both themselves and the world at large. Knight Man is no different. For as is becoming increasingly clear with my interviews, there is painfully little difference between the minds of men and machine. But what of the heart? He's never been one to confess to any such thing in our unfortunately limited time together. Perhaps due to the sensitivity of the topic, or maybe because his satisfaction with his life thus far leaves little room for much else. That base capacity is what I aim to find out today. If, of course, he lets me. 

Unlike those who came before, this feels dangerously close to prying open personal matters best left alone. For that, I am sorry.

- The Memoirs of Godfrey Merrick

- - -

To think, Godfrey's nerves behind the camera still lingered. Here he was fidgeting with the corner of his journal's page like a greenhorn. Back to lining up the borders of each document with obsessive detail. Godfrey thought he'd buried that habit after his first year at the studio. He supposed one could only acclimatize themselves so much to being recorded. An ordinary occurrence nowadays. The device doing so, however, was anything but ordinary. An intelligence capable of rational thought and judgement which continued on regardless of external commands. The notion of simply "stopping" it repulsed him. Flicking off a switch, and in essence a life. 

His camcorder? Gone. Lost in whatever void his bag wandered off to. So Knight Man offered to record through his HUD in its stead. Godfrey was grateful for the offer even if it meant the point of view barreled down on him in an instant. Just another step of control removed from the situation. None of his original equipment, none of his original notes, and no direct ability to manage just what'd be captured. Seemed more like an interview of himself. Well, if last Tuesday night was to be excluded, he thought with a frown. He wasn't quite sure what'd he even do if anyone but Knight Man saw him in such a state. 

Godfrey pushed aside a blade of grass encroaching on his knee. Given Knight Man's sizable heft, they'd opted to conduct the interview outside in the park. Seated within eyeshot of the lake so beloved by the Robot Master, and loathed by just shy of everyone else. Except the gathering of birthday goers by the looks of it. Children and their accompanying family cheered on while willingly standing by an endless muddy abyss. Knight Man refused to be seated anywhere else. "It stands as a monument to our journey!" he'd said, as if quite literally scrubbing his boots clean until his skin peeled was to be celebrated. 

Knight Man's rigid posture remained even while seated. The byproduct of his mechanical nature and fixation on maintaining a proper air. Godfrey jotted that down along a margin as they both settled in. The recording ticked on regardless of whether or not they'd even started. Knight Man claimed he'd simply edit out the sections not related to the interview once they concluded, but Godfrey assumed that to be far from reality. The Robot Master probably just wanted to have on file the park's beauty. All things considered, it was a wonderful day outside. No shame in enjoying that. For those with time, at least. 

With a loud clack of his pen against the pad of his riding glove, Godfrey turned his attention up to Knight Man's right eye. The vibrant crimson hue replaced now with a small spinning circle. That visibility was surely not done for the Robot Master's benefit. Seemed the roboticists responsible for Knight Man's creation would've rather known when their actions and words were recorded. Saved away into endless banks of memory. The opportunity to address the implied repercussions of such a thing could come later. Knight Man never struck Godfrey as the flighty type. Any future improvement was as assured as the surprising warmth funneled through those circuits.

"I apologize for the inconvenience. I know your schedule is quite busy as of late."

If the nature of the interview ever bothered Knight Man, he did wonders in obscuring it. The reception proved to be nothing short of exuberant. A great deal of excitement colored many of their recent texts as of late approaching the weekend. Even after Godfrey informed Knight Man of the generally brief nature of his usual outings. Just a handful of quick questions were to be asked. Nothing too invasive. Knight Man's privacy would best remain intact. So Knight Man's flourish of his gauntlet as he waved away Godfrey's apology came to the surprise of neither of them. Of course. 

"You're no bother, truly, and yes! It's exciting to know so many share in our fanfare, our battles a spectacle to all! Punk's looking to sweep this season, but tis nothing more than a layman's guess. My bet's on-"

It took Godfrey a few moments to catch up on the whirlwind of a direction the topic spiraled off to. The humor though struck him fast and hard. A literal bark of a laugh interrupted them both. Knight Man looking pleased, and Godfrey scrambling to save face for stopping the tangent in the way he did. Not intentional but things worked out regardless. Godfrey doubted it would benefit the Robot Master's career to reveal a bias. Especially as someone as influential as a House Bot. In that war, victory favored the silent. 

"Should you be saying all this on record?"

The recording program remained fixated on Godfrey, even though the rest of Knight Man turned away briefly. Casually observing something above Godfrey's shoulder nearby to play off the "goof" he'd almost committed. The split focus unnervingly enough erred little. Only slightly discomforting to think of the mental gymnastics required to process stimuli from two separate sources simultaneously. Knight Man's words after a short beat were quiet. Firm, with not an ounce of hesitancy, but quiet. 

"Er, no."

As he thought. Perhaps then it would be best to refocus. Godfrey spent a few hours the morning prior jotting down optimal approaches for the next set of questions. Prying for information without revealing too much of Knight Man's personal life. He wasn't just about to ask if he'd ever been in a relationship. That'd endanger both Knight Man and any of his previous paramours (if any). Instead, the next best option stemmed from his fame as both a Robot Master champion and House Robot. 

"It's not too much of a stretch to say you're considered a celebrity in certain circles. Has anyone approached you with romantic interest because of this?"

What surprised Godfrey about the response was the time taken to deliberate on the question. He could practically see the cogs turning in Knight Man's head as he ran through the list of fan encounters. Marking off a list growing in size beyond Godfrey's even faintest grasp it seemed.

"Not that I can recall. Few have the courage to offer such propositions. Even fewer do so to their royalty if I were to ever be considered as such. Better to have an offer spurned than mourn a loss of opportunities never realized." 

Of course so few would ever muster up the gall to ask a Robot Master out. Stigma surrounded them more now than ever before. Outside of perhaps during the aftermath of the third war. Godfrey spent much of his time witnessing the riots from his hospital window. But the exact meaning of Knight Man's intention eluded him. There was a faintly mournful tone to those steeled words. Never had the Robot Master expressed such desires before. 

"So you're hoping more people ask you out?"

Knight Man shook his head. Again, keeping his right eye perfectly motionless despite the rest of the chassis shifting around. Perfect machine-like tracking. Humanly impossible. Not exactly what'd been intended by the interview's undercurrent. The recording being fixated on Godfrey seemed more like a blessing than before. 

"In truth, their attention would best lay elsewhere. My hope instead is to encourage those stricken with fear to fight for their own wants."

Strange. That came out fast. Faster than usual, at least. Conviction powered Knight Man more than his over-complicated circuity even at the worst of times. The way he spoke practically worthy of appearing in those gritty medieval TV shows revolving around opposing houses murdering each other's brothers. Steadfast and immediately him. So for it to become apparent that Knight Man spent more time than usual thinking on this? Deliberated upon to not sound deliberate. That statement had been practiced. 

"It sounds as if this was something you struggled with before. Would you be willing to elaborate?"

"Of course. The ease of which I preach should never be mistaken for strength. I too embody my own weakness."

There it was. Damn it, he cursed his instinct to chase the blood in the water. But not only could this tap into the through-line connecting all of the prior interviews, but it confirmed Godfrey's suspicions as well. Something, more like someone if instinct could be trusted, kept Knight Man's attention fixated on the topic. Before their meeting today at the very least. Whatever inexplicable bout of sadness that came from learning of this mysterious crush smothered itself under Godfrey's overwhelming sense of curiosity. Another hole in the sturdy armor to peer inside. 

"This want of yours, as you called it. What about reaching it has you so afraid?

No. Wait. Godfrey shot a hand up to interrupt Knight Man's inevitable quick-draw response. Indicating towards Knight Man's eyes with the end of his pen, he expressed a degree of caution. Something they both needed to heed. Safety trumped any answers. Now more than ever. Especially for someone like this: someone truly worth protecting. 

"If you'd rather say these things in private, that's perfectly fine."

Either fueled by his own disregard for his privacy, or because of a genuine wish to share, Knight Man continued on regardless. Tapping his unarmed cannon against his chest with a hearty thud. Godfrey bit down his sigh. He got them both into this mess. 

"I merely wish for others to find my vulnerability inspiring. Yes, I'm afraid. Holding a weapon aloft for a campaign dictated to you by the hierarchy is one matter. A campaign for the attention of another? Tis the only challenge no amount of bloodshed or heartache can verily win. The whims of mankind and their creations are hard to quantify. You know this just as I do, sir."

Oh he understood all too well. Knight Man's intentions had been pure, but the jab landed square into Godfrey's chest regardless. His lack of supplemental commentary a signal for the explanation to continue on. Baring a heretical portion of the soul to the world. Eventually the board, too, but some risked needed to be taken. 

"He beguiles me so. To what end does the strength of a single knight serve in the face of a man in conquest for the world? Time and time again, my own inadequacy undercuts my passion like the woodsman's axe to the tree."

Godfrey rolled the word inadequate in his mouth, frowning slightly at the implied self-loathing apparent with the admission. Whoever made Knight Man think as such deserved a long walk off a short peer. Into the pond. What of the man in conquest for the world? Had Knight Man fallen for a robotic challenger in the show? That seemed to be the most likely scenario. IF that were to be case, then Knight Man's fears were properly founded. Any relationship with a contestant would completely jeopardize the running as well as his own career. So much was at stake just with that tidbit alone. 

It did beg the question though: just what type of man could win Knight Man's affections? Godfrey made a mental note to watch over the recent episodes when the opportunity presented itself. Protecting this hopefully soon to be relationship felt like the next best course of action after he submitted his findings today. It was the least Godfrey could do for his stalwart friend. A chipped piece cut away from a mountain of dues. He quickly flipped a page and slung the next question out. Half-cocked but loaded enough to divert attention.

"Some people believe that the Alpha and Beta lines' sense of attraction are preprogrammed. What do you have to say to this?"

No outward tells apparent to the untrained eye. But Godfrey noticed it. A hunch, however minor, set in at the reminder of the world they both lived in. Walls closing in with relentless shackles to be placed around the necks of those unlucky or minor enough to be entrapped. Even that gesture too faded away as Knight Man righted his posture. His calm voice flowed with a reinvigorated sense of self, wielding distaste around like a ball and chain. Fitting. 

"Our misery is inherently our own. We watch those we admire through wrought iron bars, knowing in our cores that we'd be satiated with merely a returned gaze. Yet even that remains beyond our grasp just as our peers would have it be."

Knight Man's white gauntlet cracked under its clenched pressure, releasing a short burst of steam and sparks. The rupture in whatever pneumatics help power his herculean strength didn't even seem to register. Instead Knight Man ground out between nonexistent teeth the remainder of what needed to be said. Godfrey'd been in the perpetual eye of the storm catching glimpses of the carnage to be harnessed. Reigned in by programming and a sense of care unheard of in typical human society. 

"If such misery was instilled upon our creation, then humanity's crimes are beyond absolution."

Godfrey wondered, then, just what the recording captured. How much Knight Man decided to keep in during the moments after. If he deemed it necessary to show the gloved hand flatten atop the tightened fist of smoldering metal. Knight Man's frustrations ebbing away as they both sat there in quiet solidarity. Godfrey would never be wholly capable of understanding the life the linemates lived. Alpha, Beta, or even the prototypes. But suffering was unanimous in its meaning, and the effects present painfully obvious. Godfrey hoped this sheltered moment of peace would remain between them. A slice of a community as easy to smother as a candle's flame. He knew better though.

Knight Man was nothing if not a martyr. 

- - -

The bench squeaked beneath Godfrey's weight as he took a moment to stretch and collect his thoughts. The final interview? Finished. Pertinent footage? Being transferred over to a USB flash drive at this very moment. Notes? That, that gave him pause. He'd only asked a handful of other questions after a thirty minute break. Godfrey could do little to mend the damage done to Knight Man's hand, but he excelled at covering damage up. Tucking the exposed components back in and smoothing down the jagged edges where he could. Mostly by beating it with his own fist and the cannon's weight. Not the most effective but it worked much to their mutual thanks.

He'd mostly forwent writing anything down past that point. Jotting down thoughts during the initial interview strayed from his usual style anyway. Unfortunately the exact mistake he feared from interviewing Knight Man reared its head: he grew distracted. Thoughts devolving towards more sociable affairs as their question and answer style transitioned into standard conversation. At some point Knight Man stopped recording, But Godfrey truthfully hadn't noticed. His eyes long since fixated solely on Knight Man's glowing LCD. Soft, expressive, and all too eager to share. 

Godfrey needed to review the footage whenever he received it. Trim the fat for Dr. Kyurio's sake. Or, more likely, his son. Saturn Kyurio maintained a solid social media presence including editing videos of the shelter he worked at. Having someone who knew their way around the software eased the burden off Godfrey's shoulders that much more. Still, not everything fell to them. Some of the day's proceedings needed to remain withheld from the public. Especially for Knight Man's romantic interest. If it made the Robot Master happy, Godfrey would do everything in his power to keep them anonymous.

A gentle tapping on his shoulder brought Godfrey's nose out of the now incomprehensible mess of scribbles. Oops. Looking over to his left, he came face to face not with a man or a bot, but a duffel bag. Worn, ugly as sin, and thoroughly abused. His. What the hell? The proud and unexpectant Knight Man towered over him and the bag both. The grin in his voice so obvious he might as well slap a "#1 Star" sticker on his helmet. The especially tacky one Star Man sold with his astronomy coloring books. 

"Your property returned in record time!"

"Oh you beautiful bastard."

Reaching up to slap Knight Man's shoulder with his right hand (ow), he immediately pulled the zipper with such gusto it tore clean off. Eh. With a shrug, he placed it aside and pulled the fabric open. It was admittedly a bit barbaric to savage his back like this, as Knight Man's tilted head indicated to. Who cared though? A few splits in the seams mattered little in the grand scheme of things. He'd just buy a new bag anyway from a pawn shop. It'd been where he nabbed this one. With the money he just saved not having to replace his tech? He could afford it. 

Godfrey blessed his robotic overlords above for the numerous contents. Everything stocked and accounted for against all odds. Journals, laptop, camcorder, miscellaneous equipment, and even a spare shirt he'd completely forgotten about. The relief that settled in shot his heartrate through the roof. Suppressed anxiety, panic, and stress all immediately unearthed and promptly executed above freshly marked graves. Adrenaline was a bitch. Godfrey snagged his camcorder out first via the bar atop it and, with a trembling grin, flipped the screen over. Power button pressed in, annnnnd....

Nothing.

Dead battery pack, of course. Keeping it charged proved to be a bit difficult when it ended up misplaced a good quarter of the time Godfrey owned it. Good thing he always kept spares to make up for his unhealthy habits. While Godfrey dug around the bag's contents for them, he turned his attention back to Knight Man. His smile suppressed at the risk of leaving himself too open. Something would surely be amiss. A couple hundred dollars as a finder's fee? Or perhaps some other demented way Knight Man signed away his rights again. If they grew too insistent, he'd just claim the futon's death compensation and call it even. 

"I can't thank you enough. Where did you even find this? You were gone for, what, thirty minutes?"

Knight Man hitched a jarred thumb back in the vague direction of the museum. Should've guessed that wasn't enough time to get the damage repaired too. Not that Knight Man seemed to mind. That couldn't feel pleasant. 

"Quite the tale, that. During my endless toil with the repair requisite forms, I recalled our brief reunion at the lobby. The receptionist bent the knee and disclosed they'd recently rehoused an unclaimed bag into the Lost and Found. Lo and behold, twas yours! What luck!"

Sliding the charge pack into place, Godfrey nodded along encouragingly. Knight Man's growing tendency to retrieve these lost items was equally appreciated and embarrassing. Such a foolish mistake to leave his whole duffel bag behind. He'd been afraid to come to terms with their loss. No longer! Knight Man stretched a hand out to offer the thumbdrive of footage, which Godfrey gladly accepted. Another task down. If only his coworkers at the studio had been as efficient. Or cared even a fraction of what Knight Man simply exuded on a daily basis. 

"At this point you might as well start carrying my gear. I really don't know how I keep losing things. Probably about to lose this too."

"You're a busy man, sir."

"Bullsh-"

As Godfrey went to wave that off as just an excuse, he instead stopped when the breeze picked up in his direction. Rippling above the torn bag's contents and through Godfrey's beige tanktop. The smell assaulting his nose locked up his joints and thoughts both. Plastic. Burnt plastic and singed metal. Like the aftermath of a kid torching their action figure collection with a lighter. His words died in his throat as he reluctantly pulled his duffel bag closer. His unexpectantly still dead camcorder set aside. 

Oh god. 

It reeked of melted electronics. Stuffed away and sealed until exposed to air. The urge to gag grew while he dug his hands inside and riffled through the rest of his possessions. Giving them a proper inspection of instead of just an outward visual check. Notepads and journals now far thinner than they used to be, battery packs completely non-operational, and his laptop! Lifting the lid of his laptop damn near killed him. For only a moment, he thought about humoring the pressure behind his eyes. Blinking rapidly to stem the flow. But he'd known better. Of course he did. 

For the screen before him was warped. Sunken in at places akin to minor fire damage. Must've been all internal. Fried. It'd all been fried. Everything. Whatever little strength he possessed left him as he tipped the corner of a journal's cover; revealing nothing more than tear lines and blank pages. A shudder wracked his body as the joyful anxiety from before stilled alongside his heart. His chest rose and fell at a rate countering his own assumptions. Here he was, thinking he understood the ramifications of his actions, and yet he'd been made the fool. He'd know if he was panicking. Surely. 

If his meeting with Dr. Kyurio had been a week or two later?

Cold. He felt absolutely frigid. His mind thawed enough to process just where to go from here. There'd been nothing to salvage. Yet, just enough remained behind to mark the occasion. Fears he'd never even thought to calculate for immediately took center stage. This served as a message and Knight Man the unwitting messenger. Standing there taking in the barrage of emotions flaring across Godfrey's face no doubt. This tactic was one he'd long since become accustomed to. Dozens threatened Godfrey in numerous ways during the proceedings after the third war. 

Letters, emails, and picketed signs outside his address. Destruction of personal property and possessions. Assault in hallways and in streets, even at the hospital or the physical therapy clinic he visited. The thought of their fists bearing down on him once again sent his nerves into a doomed spiral. But gods above, worse than that was he'd no longer be alone. No longer the solitary target. Godfrey hastily wedged his hand into the connecting tissue between prosthesis and appendage to put a stop to the incoming pain. Haunted still by absent limbs, to no avail. 

"Sir? You look unwell."

Perhaps not all was lost. The only solace to be found in the situation was, ironically, his hope. That dwindling chance to shelter Knight Man from witnessing the signed knife plunged into Godfrey's back and twisted until it bore a hole through muscle and sinew. Association by proxy could be the death sentence for them both. Those that targeted Godfrey aimed not with a bullet, but a boulder. But what could he even say to prevent anything further? Any future involvement risked everything Knight Man stood for. A career driving a good man's passion for greater things. 

No. 

It risked what the project stood for. If those responsible were to discover that Dr. Kyurio's eventual proposal had ties to Godfrey's interviews, then they'd surely attempt to sabotage that as well. The findings were to remain under the Board's jurisdiction but preceding knowledge could clip its wings. All for the "betterment" of their own personal beliefs. Fear could rob any sane man of their senses. Once again Godfrey was nothing more than a virus to be purged and they wanted him to know it. To feel his failure and rejection by "ending" his work once and for all. The hazy line between paranoia and caution blurred further.

"Godfrey? Please, speak to me."

His eyes flitted over to the family wrapping up their celebration beside the pond. Phones in hand, recording their children running about with new toys in hand. Witnesses. Activists, corporate jockeys, or whoever else could've possibly severed Godfrey's tether knew of his activities. Not well, but they remained aware just the same. So desperate to reach their own resolution they destroyed years of work for their own misguided benefit. Conviction and belief were tools to be wielded to accomplish great things. That greatness, however, could only be perceived relatively. Perception decided all. 

Godfrey reached an understanding then. 

For Asimov's Seventh Law to be safe, his involvement must be erased. Not just from the project either. Their influence reached the Robot Master's interviewed and potentially Percy as well, so who was to say they'd stop there? Anyone he'd spoken with in the city at large could be an unwilling pawn in a petty game. One way or another. Their innocent names ran through his mind as he neatly packed the bag's contents back into the decrepit interior. Calculating the damage done and the causalities to be considered. What came next rang clear. It all boiled down to what Godfrey excelled at. Far more than his own researching capabilities or interviewing experience.

Air Man

Maintaining appearances. Fulfilling false expectations. Giving people just what they expected to want, good or bad. He held the duffel bag by its withered straps and stepped before Knight Man. The metal bolts in his legs were all that kept his knees from shaking. Less than a foot away from the man he'd owed so much to now. Whom he desperately wished he could clue into on the finality of this proximity. Godfrey swore to himself to reach out once it was safe to do so. But for now? Better make it count. 

Percy

What was lost in Godfrey's absence could certainly be obtained again by the rare few in mourning. But the project? He'd sooner tarnish once again the life he lived with false truths than willingly jeopardize the livelihood of robotkind. Godfrey leaned in, rested his head atop Knight Man's pauldron, and breathed. Pressing his last journal and thumbdrive against Knight Man's chest, he asked with a cracked whisper, "Do you trust me?"

Elec Man

Let them learn exactly what they wished to hear. That their attempts caved in the soul of a man desperate for change. An apparently vile man capable of murder for no other reason than in spite of robots everywhere. As if he thought so little of the kind he gave thanks to. Both for the rescue of his life, and the redemption of his soul. The bot responsible for the latter struggled to hide the fear mounting in his typically firm stance. Knight Man's steady answer betrayed by nerves so unfamiliar to Godfrey. 

"On your word."

Hornet Man

He enjoyed the opportunity to feel human again, however brief, that his recent life provided. That Knight Man ushered in for only the faintest of moments. Weeks stretching on for longer than the years he toiled away alone on the run. On his hands and knees begging for jobs from whoever'd listen. Never had generosity and goodwill been so freely offered up. Godfrey hoped the man who earned Knight Man's affection treated him well. Pampered him like the royalty he was. Taking a step back, Godfrey asked-no, gave his one and only order to Knight Man.

May they both forgive him for it. 

"Run."

Dr. Kyurio

Numerous cameras captured footage of his outrage then. The viral tirade of a disgruntled reject visiting a state park. Only upon closer inspection did observers realize the who mattered far more than the why: another broadcast by the disgraced reporter?

Saturn Kyurio

Only a few would be privy to the exact words spoken. Heartfelt shouts decrying those who "destroyed his life's work". All, however, filmed the violent splash of a duffel bag being chucked into a pond loathingly spit upon. A grand show if nothing else.

Magnet Man

Six uploaded recordings gained an abhorrent amount of traction that night. Ridiculing Godfrey for the man he was once and still believed to be. Mentions of his thwarted projects crossed certain circles. To minor applause, of course. Good. 

Knight Man

One point of view, despite the fanfare online, never made it to the light of day. Instead stored in the memory banks of a Robot Master who witnessed what no one else could. Godfrey knew of its existence despite not truly knowing. After all, Knight Man would only run so far. All to archive elements no normal phone camera could document. 

The Nurse

A man's set jaw, determined to maintain a charade. A gleeful smile as he openly lambasted the water. Soulless grey eyes all that remained. Not from the words he said or the act played, but from the life once again lost and the valiant knight left behind in its wake. 

-/-/-

-INCOMING MESSAGE-
FROM:「 DR. JAVA KYURIO, GLOBAL ALLIANCE BOARD OF ROBOTICS 」

Dr. Java Kyurio: Received the package this morning. Arrived safe and sound with him in tow. Knight Man is rather upset about this whole affair though.

Me: i did wht i hd to. all up 2 u nw

Dr. Java Kyurio: Understood. Best of luck

Me: keep hm safe. 

Dr. Java Kyurio: You're always welcome here too if you need a place to stay. I'm sure he'd appreciate that.
L -MESSAGE UNABLE TO BE SENT-
TO:「GODFREY MERRICK, MURPHY COUNTY PARK」

L -LINE INACTIVE-

-/-/-

Chapter Text

// Recall Memory Logs for  (Godfrey)

- Banks Indicate 7.5 Terabytes Shelved

- Last Accessed 84 Hours Ago

Refresh?  ()

(Yes)

// Preview Instant Messages for  (Godfrey)

- BATCH - Displaying Last Viewed Entries

-/-/-

L - Entry 1: 

Sir Godfrey: ur joking

Sir Godfrey: no

UNIT: Certainly not! It stands as a monument to our journey!

Sir Godfrey: fine. cant belve im sying ths. 

Sir Godfrey: the pnd it is

UNIT: Yes! Once again, I reign victorious.

Sir Godfrey: uhuh

Sir Godfrey: gnite big guy

UNIT: Rest well, sir. Tomorrow marks great change for us all! I'm certain of it. 

L - Entry 2: 

Sir Godfrey: here

UNIT: My apologies for tarrying, this damned chain refuses to dislodge. It'll be but a moment longer.

Sir Godfrey: u prblms. shmful

Sir Godfrey: jkjk, take ur time. 

UNIT: On the way now!

Sir Godfrey: k

UNIT: Godfrey!

UNIT: Is this truly necessary? What's coercing you into such lunacy?

UNIT: Sir. Surely your reasons are your own, but you assured me of your plans prior. No mention of this comes to mind. 

UNIT: You'd keep me briefed if it was vital, yes?

UNIT: Sir?

L - Entry 3: 

UNIT: Dr. Kyurio refuses to shine light on the circumstances as well. 

UNIT: "It's for the best. He'll be fine".

UNIT: Fools, the lot of you. 

UNIT: They're tearing you limb from limb. My feed's bombarded with nothing but. 

UNIT: Were they never made aware of the truth? 

L - Entry 4: 

UNIT: Assuage my fears. Light the fire, whatever is needed. Just show me you're well.

UNIT: I implore you
L -MESSAGE UNABLE TO BE SENT-
TO:「GODFREY MERRICK, MURPHY COUNTY PARK」

L -LINE INACTIVE-

UNIT: Thank you, sir. 
L -MESSAGE UNABLE TO BE SENT-
TO:「GODFREY MERRICK, MURPHY COUNTY PARK」

L -LINE INACTIVE-

// Remove (Message Recipient) Advisories

- Cleared

L - Entry 5:

UNIT: Paid a meandering visit to the prison you call home.

UNIT: Called. Tis devoid of all which made it so. 

UNIT: The commotion you stirred quelled in a fortnight.

UNIT: Quenched their fill of bloodshed, I suppose. 

L - Entry 6:

UNIT: The series continues on, to uproarious applause. 

UNIT: It's a significant comfort to imagine your gaze watching too on the telly.

UNIT: Yes, I'm all too aware you were an unwilling convert. At first >:D

UNIT: For the pittance my presence had been worth, your influence on me dwarfed my own sensibilities. 

UNIT: If only you remained to partake in the spoils.

L - Entry 7: 

UNIT: The chill riding in carries a sharp blade. 

UNIT: Stay warm, sir. 

L - Entry 8: 

UNIT: It's my utmost pleasure to be the town crier of this news:

UNIT: Dr. Kyurio is scheduled for a proposal hearing with the Board in October! 

UNIT: The exact date I'm not precisely privy to, but it's close. 

UNIT: Congratulations, sir. Sincerely. 

L - Entry 9: 

UNIT: The park is quite the sight to behold in the Fall. 

UNIT: Yet little value remains here, in your absence. 

UNIT: You're sorely missed. Encountered a young man earlier who, despite recognizing me, asked not of the show. But of you. 

UNIT: I unfortunately could provide nothing meaningful. Left in the dark much as he was. 

UNIT: He's overjoyed about the waves your proposal is leaving in its wake. Seems to have known you. Once. 

UNIT: Keep yourself well.

L - Entry 10:

UNIT: You'd predicted the resistance met exactly. 

UNIT: Astounding to think of those who belittle us so. But they've always been liable to latch onto the creature comfort of a lie.

UNIT: Activists crawl out of the woodwork now to support Dr. Kyurio's social work in the recent news. The very same warriors who put you to sword.

UNIT: The great irony would normally amuse, but it pains me to laugh alone. 

L - Entry 11:

UNIT: Afternoon sir! I loathe to admit it, but perhaps your absence was warranted. 

UNIT: Corporations berate Dr. Kyurio openly in some vain attempt to tarnish his reputation.

UNIT: The good doctor's record remains as spotless as my armor.

UNIT: I'm afraid you'd not be afforded the same luxury. 

L - Entry 12: 

UNIT: Tis a dreary day here. Loitering around in my empty abode. I find myself cursing my creators for embellishing the elegance of our creation. 

UNIT: Perfect memory is fine and dandy except for those cursed by it. 

UNIT: Thoughts, feelings, and even foolish notions refuse to abate away like our human counterparts.

UNIT: They persist. Same as you.

-/-/-

- End of Indicated Entries

// Preview Unread Messages from  (All Contacts)

- BATCH - Displaying All (0) Messages

- ALERT
L Notification Received from 「 UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN 」

// Preview Unread Notification from  (Source)

- BATCH - Displaying Unread Notification

-/-/-

-INCOMING MESSAGE-
FROM:「 UNKNOWN, UNKNOWN 」

Unknown: hy big guy

-/-/-

Chapter Text

The sound of concrete scraping along the bottom of his metal shovel accompanied Godfrey's thoughts. A grating melody born of repetitive motions and repetitive thoughts. Just how many days had he toiled away at the snow only to find in himself the greater opposition? Five days. Today marked the fifth day in a row he'd been needed to clear the sidewalks outside of his neighbor's property, and the fifth day in a row he'd berated himself over his indecision. Hesitation to pursue what must be done felt foreign to him. Much of what he thought nowadays though marked a path untouched prior. 

To send or not to send. 

Typically Godfrey kept himself busy. Avoidance, if nothing else. He'd grown inured to trapping himself in loops of circular logic. But there'd been little else to dwell on when heaving waves of snow in single digit temperatures. His options dwindled to less than a handful. He could acknowledge the diagnostics his prosthetic relayed with each push. Repetitive motions, repetitive thoughts, and repetitive numbers. Again. Or perhaps, if the snow proved deep enough, he could wait for the arrival of Blizzard Man. Snatch the skates underneath him and bolt. Again. But each alternative brought his thoughts back to it.

The phone. He'd just gotten a new model as part of a service's promotion two weeks ago. Yet Godfrey thought he'd probably prefer his time spent without one. At least then the possibility of reaching out remained as nothing more than a hopeful figment of his imagination. He was scheduled to be making monthly payments on the damn thing, so why was he so hesitant on actually using it? Therein lay the problem such as it was. A fork in the road starting and ending on the same path. Was that hesitance born from using a device he'd gone so long without? Or, perhaps more likely, he questioned the danger from sending a particular message. 

Unable to break a thin patch of ice with the snow shovel's head, he instead shattered its grip on the pavement with the butt of the handle. Along with the snow, it too was hurried off the path. Bringing Godfrey back to his dilemma once again. So what danger came from sending it? Admittedly very little. A fact Godfrey reluctantly admitted to himself time and time again. With Thanksgiving being just shy of two weeks away, it'd been months since he'd bowed himself off the stage. Godfrey Merrick became nothing more than a footnote in light of Dr. Kyurio's proposal. Good. Those two made it into such an extravagant affair. 

Saturn's media upkeep fueled fires Godfrey could only begin to understand. Riling people up with snippets of personal stories, sourced from those who sought repairs at the Museum's lab. They had the matter well and truly in hand. Godfrey posed no risk to the project. Instead his hesitance dwelled on one subject alone: Knight Man. The only reason Godfrey even considered reaching out back to the city. Not to Air Man, not to Percy, not even to Dr. Kyurio. Knight Man. The crowd favorite and beloved icon of Robot Wars fanatics everywhere. This he knew well, as he included himself to no shame of his own. 

In truth, the self-induced isolation was driving him up the wall. Unusually so too. Godfrey survived three years of vagrant wandering with no trouble. Plenty of time to himself with no consideration for anything other than a project needing endless research to even start. He'd never been in much of a sociable mood during. Fine enough for him, given the lengths others took to avoid Godfrey's presence. It made little sense though. All that said and done, here he was with a few months away from a particular navy-plated Robot Master eating his conscious. The way he'd left things was unforgivable. Understandable, yes, but undeserved for Knight Man's sake. 

Complete silence, until now. To send or not to send. 

Another patch of ice, hidden initially from view, brought the shovel to a standstill upon contact. Again. Squatting down, Godfrey poked at it with a finger. Jagged and unnaturally formed by the looks of things. Blizzard Man swore up and down that he played no part in the ice's formation. Yet, as Godfrey pointed out each and every time, this only formed on the routes they competed over. A small price to pay though given the circumstances. Some things just take a little extra work. Or at least he thought as much until he took notice of the notable dent in the flat edge of his snow shovel. 

Fuck it. What was it that Knight Man said? "Better to have an offer spurned than mourn a loss of opportunities never realized", wasn't it? Godfrey chucked the tool with a clatter, fought to tear his glove off his still organic hand, and tapped away a text to the chassis ID he'd long since memorized. Another series of repetitive numbers he'd mouth to himself during the more grueling moments of his trek up north. It made sense to him at the time. With the specifics of the project gone, model numbers were the next best thing. In hindsight though, little could comfortably explain why only Knight Man's serial stuck in Godfrey's mind. 

If nothing else could be accomplished with this, Godfrey simply wished to apologize.

- - -

♫"I cheated, the lies that I told"♫

Wha... Swamped in blankets, Godfrey blinked away the dark as his phone illuminated the room from its upright charging stand. His ringtone blared at a volume he didn't remember setting it to. Then again, he'd yet to be called on this device. Who in the hell-?

♫"-is for a future that I have seen"♫

Godfrey, with a growl, chucked the nearest pillow within reach across the room. Whiffed it completely. Embarrassingly so. 

♫"the death, the lives that I stole"♫

Scrambling up in a nest of fabric was a challenge even at the best of times. Here, he was exhausted (it must be at least five in the morning), quite literally disarmed, and warm. At least no one could witness his awkward tumbling as he propelled himself forward.

♫"the end has to justify the means"♫

Godfrey snatched the damned device from the cradle and, with teeth ground together, accepted the call. His vision was still far too blurry to make heads or tails of the caller ID. They'd best prepare themselves for a very disgruntled and formerly comfortable man. Godfrey could think of a few choice words for the twit calling him this late. Not that he was at liberty to say anything of the sort aloud. 

"Merrick speaking, who's this?"

"Godfrey?"

That sobered him up quick. The phone, and the Chassis ID practically imprinted on the screen before him, came into crisp view. Even without the name, Godfrey knew that voice. Hard not to. It'd haunted him since the day he left. Warm steel providing comfort in the back-lines as Godfrey trudged forward day by day. Still though. Wow. It'd been, what, less than a day since he sent the text? He expected nothing but disdain and a begrudging response time if that. His thoughts and feelings were jumbled more than the blankets he vaulted out of. 

"For someone who weighs as much as you, you sure are fast."

"Sir, respectfully, silence."

The sternness in Knight Man's tone belittled just how respectful the statement could be taken as. Even still, the faintest amused huff could be heard over the phone. Godfrey considered that a minor victory and obliged just the same. The silence afterwards felt...expecting. Knight Man didn't take well to it. Frustrated more than he'd sounded before. 

"Gods, no. Not literally. Cast shade to your heart's desire, I care not. Please don't stop talking."

That? That Godfrey could do. Or at least he thought himself capable of initially. But as soon as he'd been given the green light, and now that he finally had Knight Man waiting excitedly on the other line, his throat seized up. Besieged by awkwardness and the expectation of well deserved hatred. Anger, bitterness, or any other of the numerous emotions his friend surely embodied by this point. Wading through the trenches gave him little to work with. His first conversational go-to would've resulted in him covering his face in shame if he'd been wearing his other arm. The warmth flooding his cheeks reminded Godfrey of his own social ineptitude. 

He gave himself no time to think. No opportunities to second guess the drivel spilling out of his mouth. He'd taken Knight Man literally. Do not stop talking. 

"Got a new phone"

"Guessed as much, sir."

"Texting is a lot easier."

"Ah. So your preference is simply to scorn proper spelling now? How uncouth."

"How else were you supposed to know it was me?"

"Perhaps, this is just a rogue suggestion, consider the mention of your given name?"

"Oh. Well. I don't like the touchscreen."

"Truly?"

"Yeah."

"Because of-"

"-my arm. Damn thing won't recognize it."

"Safe assumption then that you never replaced the synthetic skin fingertips?"

Godfrey centered himself back in his reality. Allowed the non-impulsive thoughts to flow once again. He needed little reminder of his still dwindling self-care, but here he was. Godfrey didn't even have to look over his shoulder at the prosthesis to know the answer. Nor did Knight Man. Rhetorical question. Funny. 

"Never got around to it."

"As busy as ever, sir?"

His rattled breath that came forth as the reply quelled the discussion. For only a few moments, but long enough to leave Godfrey alone with his thoughts again. He'd wanted to say that he was. That he'd been even busier than before. A far grander project on the horizon for him to chip away at like he'd prided himself on. But that fabricated a reality far from the truth. Godfrey's life was painfully simple now. Painfully lonely. Surrounded by the repercussions of his decisions on all sides. What struck him as odd though was that he regretted none of it. Godfrey put himself in front of that bullet time and time again. No question about it.

So why was he shaking so much?

"No. It's, uh. Pretty quiet here now."

Godfrey noticed, then a request for a "video call". Fancy. Or perhaps that came to mind simply because he'd been using a flip-phone for the past several years. Knight Man repeated a question Godfrey must've not heard before.

"May I?"

Why not? He lurched over to his bedside lamp and flicked it on, illuminating his uneasy face as the call connected. Godfrey expected a plethora of comments. Of how he looked miserable. Healthier, sure, but miserable. There'd be no feed from Knight Man's end as he seemingly called from his chassis HUD. So this was purely about Godfrey. But what he couldn't have fathomed being told was,

"Your hair! You grew it out?"

"My-well, I suppose I did."

A beat of silence while he brought a hand up to pull his hair aside. He'd been keeping it slicked back now that there was enough to do so. It'd been the way he kept it back at the studio. An accompaniment for the signature look of the city's then most notable reporter. Slicked hair, short sleeve button up with the vibrant tie of the day. Few'd recognize him now. Even his returned hair remained hidden beneath a flatcap out in public. But Knight Man cared little in that regard, it seemed. 

"I'm unsure how you style it, but that looks lovely just the same."

Godfrey couldn't help but smile at that. Style it? All he'd done was woke up. And fall a few times, but he'd rather be shot than admit it.

"It's called sleeping in bed. Tends to do that."

Knight Man's unexpected exuberance peaked the phone's microphone. Astonishment intertwined with a healthy coat of glee.

"You've a bed? Surely the apocalypse is nigh."

Beneath the prickly humor lingered a genuine undercurrent of concern. Warranted and perhaps slightly undeserved. Godfrey twisted his phone around to show off his surroundings dimly lit by his lamp. A bedroom proper with all the accompaniments. A queen sized bed from the landlord, a desk & chair set, nightstand, lamp, and even a standing dresser. Admittedly the "bed" consisted of nothing more than a mattress flat on the floor. The dresser's doors didn't close quite right, and the closet tucked into the corner was painted over by one layer too many. Knight Man's appreciation despite this was made known in spades. 

"I'd been fraught with worry that you lived anew a life of squalor once again. My relief is immeasurable."

Any dramatic flair dropped afterwards while Godfrey pivoted the phone's screen back towards himself. Knight Man seemingly took a moment to collect his own measure. The sincerity struck Godfrey square in the heart. He was far too tired for any of this. Depriving Knight Man of this moment though seemed incomprehensibly cruel. The fault rested at no one's feet other than Godfrey's own for this, so he took the emotional blows across the face as deserved. 

"Twas a recent born habit of mine to convince myself of your safety. My processor dwelled too much on your circumstances otherwise. That'd been nothing more than forcing falsehoods into my programming though. But look at you now! Fit for the coronation and in a castle to boot. Above the doctor's project, above the season, and far above my own other relatively minor concerns in comparison, this brings nothing but joy. I lack the words to thank you enough for your correspondence."

Godfrey regretted the video call then. The mountain pressure behind his eyes relented very little despite his silent mental protests. So instead he turned his lamp off, pulled himself back into bed alongside his phone, and set it beside him. Close enough to hear his caller, but far enough that his unsteady breathing would remain muffled. A small throw, a housewarming gift from Blizzard Man depicting an idyllic snowy landscape, found its way to his face as he focused on keeping the dwindling composure together. This strength eluded him still. How? How could he have been torn asunder this easily? 

Not a single trace of anger could be found. Knight Man either grasped the gravity of the prior situation, or cared more for Godfrey than even he expected to be possible. Both brought up implications Godfrey was far too tired and wrung out to contemplate at the given moment. So he offered in their stead another reassurance. Something he wished he'd been capable of a month ago (assuming he miraculously owned a working phone then). His voice found steel that his complexion betrayed. Surely though Knight Man knew the plight lingering beneath the words. 

"Don't get all sappy now, you act like I'm leaving again."

Knight Man's surprise was genuine. Painfully so. 

"My apologies, sir, but I'm afraid I don't understand. Was this not just to reassure me of your safety?"

No. If Godfrey could have his way, he'd never be leaving Knight Man by his lonesome again. This Robot Master shed so much of his own soul in exchange for so little. They both were safe. The project continued on unmarred. Godfrey knew, for one reason or another, that his contact made Knight Man happy. It cost him nothing to indulge Knight Man's wishes. So what reasoning could he fathom at this point to deny either of them the right to converse? This was the least Godfrey could do to make amends for the time lost. So many questions lingered on his mind that he itched to ask. But first?

"Only you, and two others technically, have access to this number. Text away all you'd want."

Immediately a barrage of notifications, all different knight emoji's by the looks of it, ran across his phone's feed. Quite the change from their first few text conversations so long ago. Godfrey knew exactly where this would be going but there'd be no stopping it now. He even threw in a few knight chess pieces for good measure. The smarmy sounding Knight Man only asked afterwards,

"Can you see my garrison now?"

"Yes. Yes I can."

The cackle that filled the room, courtesy of Knight Man, felt more appropriate for a Robot Master built at the behest of Dr. Wily. Sinister, playful, and accompanied by even more knight emoji's. A splash of color in an otherwise relatively grey world isolated entirely to themselves. One Knight Man prided himself on regarding his involvement. Baffling so. But who was Godfrey to judge? He enjoyed the company the same. Perhaps even more so, if he'd be willing to admit that to himself. His phone vibrated once again with, this time, an animated gif of a heavily armored knight dancing in the street. 

Oh lord. It began. 

-/-/-

DWN-44: ♞♞♞♞♞♞

DWN-44: You're outnumbered now, haha!

Me: Gd morning to you 2. 

DWN-44: Excuse me for my wavering thoughts, sir, but I must ask.

DWN-44: Do you swear the night prior wasn't a farce?

Me: Not going anwher ths time. Here, lemme prov it. 

Me: Done.

Night Man: This is appalling. You were doing so well! 

Me: Huh?

Night Man: Your little alteration is visible on both devices. You've erred with my title. Fix me, please?

Me: Nah. Ur welcom

Night Man: The regression, it's staggering. 

Me: u wot

Night Man: I suppose I'll find the strength within to bear with it

-/-/-

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Me: Do u like snpw

Me: Snoq

Night Man: Snoq? Once again your texting etiquette astounds me

Me: Snow. Nt intentionsl ths time. Dmn screen

Night Man: Snow! I do! I'm admittedly exposed to very little of it though. As for yourself, sir?

Me: Hld that thoughr

Me: Back

Me: Prbbly shouldve been txtng with 2 wrking hnds.

Me: Snows okay

Night Man: You've returned from your campaign a new man and yet you're unable to relinquish more than a few words? 

Me: Of crse u wd say tht

Me: Here, just 4 u

Me: I can feel the snow here so much better than the sun. My body aches constantly so that helps ground me, it's a good reminder to take care of myself.

Night Man: Give my thanks to the weather. It's doing far better a job than I. 

Me: Dramatic

-/-/-

The sound of concrete scraping along the bottom of his metal shovel accompanied Godfrey's thoughts. A grating melody born of repetitive motions and repetitive thoughts. Just how many days had he toiled away at the snow only to find in himself the greater opposition? Well, less than a week now. A new repetition born from recent developments and communication. Perhaps, though, that'd been the problem. Was. Is? Godfrey truthfully wasn't too terribly sure yet of much. Other than, of course, that desperate itch to reach into his jacket and snatch his phone out. The sudden buzz of another message brought the lingering question fresh to his mind. 

To respond or not to respond.

Damn it all, he'd assumed reaching out to Knight Man would put his restless thoughts to bed. All it accomplished instead was becoming a source of distraction. Replaced one compulsion with another. Godfrey'd been so naive then. Not when he debated on sending the message, oh no. Instead during the Spring, back when he assumed the occasional message once every thirty or so minutes was to be considered "frequent". Knight Man now took it upon himself to bombard Godfrey with conversational tidbits at any hour of the day. Questions, answers, rambling thoughts, pictures of knights, insights into knights, insights into the season of Robot Wars, and whatever else crossed that processor of his.

Five days. Godfrey knew Knight Man must've been preoccupied with other priorities. Yet as soon as Godfrey responded, another set of messages slid by with little delay. Casual and sure. Godfrey typically had limits on just how much he liked to socialize. His opinion on people as a whole dwindled day by day. Here though? The issue he faced wasn't annoyance, it was instead indulgence. Getting anything done now required quelling the urge his phone represented. All he'd wanted to do was send a few word reply and pocket the damn thing. It'd take no more than a second. That's what he kept telling himself.

To respond or not to respond. 

Just shovel the snow, he reminded himself. Tending to the property outside the apartment complex he resided in was what he'd been hired to do. Not dawdle about on his device like a teenager. His landlord, an older lass with arguably more replaced bones than Godfrey, swept him off the street at the first mention of needing a job. The saving grace of the entire situation was that she'd purchased the complex not a month before he arrived in the area. She'd moved in from somewhere overseas and thus was completely oblivious to Godfrey's identity as a whole. He'd just been a wandering vagrant once again. She needed a landscaper, and in turn offered shelter. 

Godfrey's performance was worth paying for. At least that'd been what she said, and soon enough he'd been able to purchase himself some better clothes. His tanktops did little to stave off the cold encroaching from the coast they bordered. Now here he was, shoveling clear a few central pathways with the heaviest coat he'd ever worn straining against his broad shoulders. Perhaps a size too small but one could never be picky when thrifting. It worked well enough. Better than before at the very least. At the end of it all, when Godfrey tossed and turned on his mattress at night, he dwelled far too much on that proclaimed finality. This was, is, better than before. 

And that's all it would ever be. 

To respond or not to respond.

"Psst. What are we looking at?"

CHRI-

The cushioned grasp of metal cradled by oversized mitts kept Godfrey from losing his balance. That sneaky devil. Godfrey pried his eyes away from the random spot of snow he'd been starting into and instead thwaped the hunk of junk to his left. The clang of Godfrey's prosthetic against Blizzard Man's broad chest quickly lost itself to the bout of wind that came in his wake. Easy target too. The beta bot was 90% circle after all. Rotund white chassis adorned with four little green baubles of some unknown purpose. If not for the blue pauldrons or the orange toboggan, it'd be hard to distinguish him from the very blizzard he causes. 

Godfrey supposed the forest green skis seemingly glued to Blizzard Man's boots would break the illusion. How often though would someone look DOWN when confronted by this rolling boulder? Never. To be fair, finding those eyes proved just as difficult. The black rim lining the conjoined LED's gave him the look of a raccoon drowning in milk. That or muffled eye shadow. Heavy, heavy eye shadow. Godfrey was sure at least one of the scientists that'd previously worked with the bastard in question made mention of it once before. Hard not to. The notion of a Robot Master putting on makeup was far from foreign. Elec Man's social media was rife with it. 

In a few of the recent episodes of Robot Wars, some of the alpha bots bore bright paints to represent their favorite contestants. The robotic solution to the makeup dilemma. Their less than human features required creative thinking. Funny and well deserving of the kudos he silently aimed their way. Godfrey freed himself from Blizzard Man's grip and picked up the shovel he didn't even remember dropping. Just how was Blizzard Man so quiet? His celebratory laugh (clearly intended for just himself) was louder than the sounds of a skiing hefty machine strapped to sharp strips of metal. Technology continued to astound. Godfrey came to his senses well enough to respond finally. 

"Nothing much. Been thinking, you know the usual."

Blizzard Man, with ease unexpected of a bot two feet taller than Godfrey and almost twice as wide, finessed his way over the concrete lip of the sidewalk and into direct eye-shot. Hunching down so their gazes met. Grey to an almost jade green. Blizzard Mans's words were expectant and only slightly disappointed. A familiar reprimand in good fun, if nothing else. 

"You're such a slacker! We've been over this: one text and you're done."

Ah, yes. He didn't know yet. Godfrey's knowing smirk relayed and fished in response an indignant huff. Blizzard Man planted both of his skiing poles into the ground with ease. His posture afterwards, resting his elbows atop them in an amused hunch, meant Godfrey was going no where until he fessed up. 

"Why do I even try with you. Spill the cats."

It truthfully wasn't worth correcting Blizzard Man on just what the saying actually was. From what little Godfrey gleaned of Blizzard Man's previous occupation, he'd been housing with an international crew of scientists up in the Antarctic. A hodgepodge of beliefs, accents, and dialects crammed into the overly friend shaped ball that was the Robot Master. Blizzard Man's solution to the conflicting input was simple. He described it once as "eating the wrinkles". His tone stayed perpetually flat. No accent or fluctuation present. To be as "appealing" as possible to the masses. Part of his then position as a Weather Reporter too demanded it. 

Even if it meant poor Blizzard Man got frequently roasted by any passerby this week that "Netflix and Chill" was not a winter solstice event for the whole family to plan. Given that the bot spent a fair amount of time now accompanying children about the rugged and recently cleared sidewalks, Godfrey supposed it was inevitable that some wires were to be crossed. Even more so than usual. Godfrey just quirked an eyebrow, their cue to signal that he'd said something wrong, and "spilled the cats".

"You remember when I complained about you busting my shovel up?"

Blizzard Man was incapable of nodding as his head was built into his entire central chassis, so instead he just hmm'd in response. No point refuting the obvious. Part of Godfrey's consistent work this early Winter was in part due to a particular Robot Master's influence. Albeit accidentally. Their main method of propulsion generated a small amount of condensation and buildup. Nothing major on its own. Its gradual accumulation in colder climates however needed to be tended to as it couldn't even be salted. Paving the way by needing to be paved. Backwards logic, but neither complained about their arrangement. 

"Well you weren't the only one I reached out to."

Their digitized eyes blew wide in surprise. For only a moment though; just short enough to be suspicious. Blizzard Man was many things. A people pleaser, an energizer, and weakling for anything that others found fun. He was not, however, a good liar. Blizzard Man knew this, and he knew Godfrey knew this. Better yet, he knew that Godfrey knew just then that he knew something regarding the situation. Yet they both stared on. A silent battle. Godfrey could practically read those thoughts. Lines of code in a picturesque replication of standard thinking. Predictable. 

"As long as I don't talk, I won't have to admit anything"

But there was one fatal flaw with Blizzard Man's more often than not repeated plan. One anyone who knew the jovial Robot Master could testify to without a moment's hesitation. One that, for whatever reason, he refused to address in any common circumstance. The problem with Blizzard Man (other than his aversion to fire)? The Robot Master created and previously stationed on one of the most isolated portions of the human-trodden globe? 

Blizzard Man hated the silence. 

So Godfrey got to watch as this towering behemoth, looming over him like an especially chunky snowman, began to squirm like a child at school. The clock was ticking and class would be letting out at any second. Tick, tock. Godfrey had nothing but patience left at this point. Playing these games brought a sense of calm to the otherwise lonely void leaving his previous life cursed him with. So there he stood. Refusing to budge. The quakes sharpened, those resting elbows quivered, before finally, finally, he cracked. Blizzard Man gripped the handle of the poles in frustration and uncontrollably vented out his words like excess air. 

"Knight Man was in such a great mood last Sunday that we all got suspicious but then I remembered that you were beating yourself up over not sending him a message a suns age or something ago so I connected the boxes together and assumed you must've reached out which clearly made his week if his constant chipper group texts and knight emojis are anything to go off of which I must say they really are because boy howdy has he not shut up."

Robot Masters didn't need to breathe. Common sense dictated that. But if they did, Blizzard Man would've turned the same shade of blue as his boots. It took Godfrey a moment to decipher the wild mess he'd just been subjected to. In the meantime, Blizzard Man swept on past to assist a neighbor who was climbing out of a truck. Coincidentally, of course, at a portion of the sidewalk they'd yet to get to. Oops. Godfrey caught the tail end of the grumbling about how he "always won". Should've been considered revenge given just how often Blizzard Man scared the ever living soul out of Godfrey. Inescapable terror disguised as a snow cone on skis. Twas turning him all jumpy. 

Oh well. Back to work. 

The sound of concrete scraping along the bottom of his metal shovel accompanied Godfrey's thoughts. A grating melody born of repetitive motions and repetitive thoughts. Although now, unlike the multitude of times before when he'd found himself stuck in this loop, his mind wandered elsewhere. To a Robot Master ecstatic over Godfrey's return despite the warranted loathing he should've been experiencing in its stead. Someone who, despite that exuberance, kept a particular former reporter a secret even still. His joy was surely unfounded. But, as Godfrey continued to wear away a frustratingly frozen patch, he took a moment to contemplate his own circumstances. 

He who threw the first stone, as they say. Knight Man's excitement was more than justification enough for Godfrey's own. The opportunity to relax and simply enjoy the experience presented itself under the umbrella Knight Man's attention brought about. Well deserving of another reply. Surely that wouldn't hurt, right? Just one more. Godfrey let himself finally finish up the corner he'd been slaving away at before humoring the idea. Even the best things needed to be taken in moderation. Such a strange thing to be considering a text conversation as, but he'd no room to stand on. It reminded him, in part, of Percy's fanaticism with those letters. 

Curious. 

-/-/-

Me: Ur gonna gt me in trouble

Night Man: Oh! My sincere apologies, have I acted too rashly?

Me: Not like tht. I keep puttng off wrk to rply

Night Man: Haha! But of course! I'd offer my condolences, but that's your beast of burden. 

Night Man: Don't mind me, sir, I'll just reap the benefits. >:D

Me: U are no help

Night Man: Jesting aside for a moment, I have a confession to make. 

Night Man: It's a wondrous feeling to have you here in response. One can only herald the void as a confidant for so long. 

Night Man: Admittedly it's the fault of no one but my own.

Me: ?

Night Man: My previous correspondence with your number prior? 

Me: Ths is with a nw srvice prvidr

Night Man: Ah.

Me: I get the feeling I mssd smthing important.

Night Man: Nothing of the sort, sir. Just my occasional waxing. 

Me: Uhuh

-/-/-
- - -
-/-/-

Me: Quick qstion

Bliz: Heyo! 

Bliz: Bang away. 

Me: 🤨

Bliz: Uh

Bliz:「- Search Query Pending for "bang away" -」

Me: Its "shoot" away. Ur gonna get some intrsting results

Bliz: 😳

Bliz:「- Wipe Results from Query "bang away" -」

Me: U think you cld tke my route tmrrw? 

Bliz: Sick again? 

Me: Naw. Got sm research 2 do

Bliz: Knight related?

Me: Knight relatef

Bliz: My offer still stands. He'd be over the moon if you showed up! 

Me: Oh wow. U got that rght ths time.

Bliz: Yesss

Me: And no. We arent like tht

Bliz: It takes a special type of person to casually just forgive being abandoned like that. 

Bliz: You're dumb. 

-/-/-

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Night Man: My word rings true, I swear! 

Me: Ur shitting me

Night Man: Nothing of the sort! My lodging at the convention was nothing more than a closet, a surge protector, and a bleeding phone charger.

Me: Prhaps we hve bggr problms than that prpsal 

Me: Like beds 4 beta bots 

Night Man: Ah, well on that I'm afraid we disagree. 

Me: Oh?

Night Man: Beds serve little purpose for us other than to share. Even with that in mind, it'd take a lightweight chassis to not risk bodily harm for the suitor. 

Me: Id heard that elec man maks it easy somehow

Night Man: Elec Man is a harlot who weighs ten stone less than my left boot. 

Me: Huh. So how do u and ur man make it wrk? 

Me: Err, bot

Me: If i can ask that. Srry if im prying

Night Man: You've lost me, sir. Who?

-/-/-

An interesting dilemma, if there ever was one. Sitting before him on his kitchen counter was the delicious decision that'd set the tone for the rest of his afternoon. A metaphorical pallet to paint the ongoings of a man who'd dedicated the past few days to nothing more than pulling favors and strongarming dues. The mood setter. Apple Cider: warm or iced? It'd been nothing more than a bout of unnecessary thinking but it felt nice to contemplate something feather light for once. So Godfrey continued to drum his only hand on the freezer's handle as he inched ever closer to a decision. A scandalous one, sure, but one he knew he wouldn't regret.

Iced it was. 

Cracking the ice tray on his knee was more a habit of convenience than style, if the one cube being flung to the floor was any indication. Godfrey once again had the day off. Who cared if things were a little messy? He swept down, picked up the now slightly hair ice cube, and wiped the remaining water on the floor with the bottoms of his Robot Wars slippers. The cheeky grin that followed a gift to himself alone. Perhaps his apparel when loafing about the apartment was relatively uncouth in comparison to the expectations others set upon him. Or the man he once was, he supposed. Either way he knew he was absolutely rocking the aesthetic. 

A previous compulsion on maintaining his appearance had, now, manifested in maximizing comfort. Even if it meant he was roaming the living room with one arm, one mug, an open fluffy black bathrobe, and the softest slippers he'd ever had the pleasure of wearing. Everything else was optional. Godfrey liked to take these rare opportunities and just bask in a lifestyle he'd never let himself indulge in prior to the project's upheaval. Even when he'd been a reporter at the studio, his home life resembled his life in the public all too well. Sterile, artificial, and devoid of thinking beyond the corporate shilling he'd been expected to follow. 

So damn them all. If he wanted to lounge on his newly refurbished couch bare assed with his feet thrown up without a care in the world, he'd certainly be doing so. Although today merited no such luxury. Instead Godfrey brought his attention to the stack of print-offs sitting on the coffee table he'd snagged from an estate sale a month prior. There it was: the overnight mail order he'd wormed out of a few folks who owed him something despite the circumstances. The more left unsaid, the better. At least for them and that was something Godfrey was keen on taking advantage of. The end result? All inbound messages during his previous number's deactivation period. 

Godfrey hesitated, hand still pressed atop his mug on its nearby coaster, as he sat down. He knew what to expect for the vast majority of this. Hate. Vitriol bottled up and slathered on the numerous text shaped blades hurled his way like a toxin. An unfortunate reality he'd lived through once before. At least this time his physical safety was assured. The faint tingling of his body crying out for an all too familiar numbness to return bordered on incessant. Giving in would just be letting go of any self worth he had left. So with a sip between gritted teeth, Godfrey began parsing through the stack. 

He couldn't fathom the identity of who'd leaked his number. Godfrey in truth wasn't even planning on deactivating his service when he'd first left the park. Ignoring his contacts maybe, but a phone was a useful device to have. But soon afterwards, when the first anonymous number threatened him if he came to work the next day, he knew what needed to be done. Godfrey was over living his life in fear. The biting chill of repercussions and hatred burrowing into his joints like hooks. Reeled in by those without the forethought of circumstance. So his total absence became a necessity for his own well-being as well. Not that he'd admit that to Knight Man. 

Revealing the legitimate danger Godfrey'd been in at the time would do little to sooth the recently revitalized Robot Master. 

The numerous biting remarks were disregarded with ease. Living with the target slathered on his back for so long did wonders for rendering him immune. Or at least resistant. The occasional praise from those in "solidarity" with him though? Absolutely revolting. Those who saw him not as a pariah, but as a martyr. That gave Godfrey pause. Staring down at the horde of self-described warriors gunning for the wrong team. He never considered his stance with those communities before. In their eyes, he'd been their loudest and most effective advocate. For so, so long. A legacy of literal robotic corpses left in his wake whether he intended it or not. 

A sip of the cider washed away the bile rising in his throat. Too much research to be done for him to sit there and wallow. Well, he reminded himself, the actual research portions were long since behind him. Instead this seemed to be a case study of sorts for those Godfrey left behind. Further cemented by the unexpected appearance of a few named contacts. An individually stapled collection, plastered with Knight Man's serial, was pushed aside for last. That'd been his end goal and Godfrey would rather end the day on a good note. Potentially depressing, sure, but warm. Just seeing the sheer volume alone of what'd been sent his way by the Robot Master served as a mighty fine comfort. 

Percy, it seemed, made short work of Godfrey's sudden and inexplicable absence. A few scathing remarks here and there. A surprising amount of grit from someone so gunshy with confrontation. His well wishes afterwards though only reinforced Godfrey's decision to stay entirely out of the picture for both the Poet and his then new robotic boyfriend. Both he and Percy understood the risks of the project long before he'd even started conducting interviews. Not that he'd developed a strict contingency plan, but the bag packed in the trunk of his car kept him aware of it at all times. It ended up serving as an inevitability more so than a possibility. They enjoyed their friendship while it lasted.

Perhaps, once Dr. Kyurio and his kin made ground with the board, he'd reach out again. It'd been a relatively quiet affair. Ambiance from proximity. Godfrey considered their interactions to be more so out of convenience than actual comradery. Thinking otherwise would only let in the stinging failure he kept at bay from the second life he'd left behind. The next name to appear on the logs actually took Godfrey a moment to piece together. A Light serial number. First gen to boot, given the low value: DLN-007. He'd not seen or interacted with Fire Man in years. Since the midpoint of the second Wily War if he recalled correctly. But oh did he. 

Godfrey once considered Fire Man a rolemodel. Hindered by his initial construction but still charging headlong into issues he deemed worthy. The notable sense of fairness and hunger for equality were elements to be proud of. As a reporter, Godfrey had taken that to heart. Reminding himself constantly that his reports were accomplishing the same thing. Educating the masses for their safety and awareness. Alpha and Beta Line robots were nothing more than simple machines to him then. Equality had firmly been established without their roles considered. The memory of their last meeting still lingered in his mind. Seared by shame and with no intention of subsiding. 

A firehouse fundraiser. Dozens of firefighters, volunteers, children, and news teams all convening at a family barbecue. The family, of course, being the Lights. It'd been a dual-purposed effort to both raise funds for damage control and to lessen the harmful stigma surrounding preexisting Robot Masters. Godfrey'd been there. Shaking hands, bumping shoulders, and smiling with the rest. He kept a screen grab of the article. Handing out Fire Man themed mugs and thermoses to willing buyers alongside the thankfully able-handed Robot Master himself. It'd done wonders for their publicity and raised a pretty penny too. But that wasn't what maintained a stranglehold on his memory. 

Seemed Fire Man remembered it too. Why wouldn't he? Godfrey received a single message sometime during his lengthy absence. Innocuous to anyone other than those who'd been outside the firehouse on the chalk covered sidewalk that afternoon. Hell, he believed most of who had been there were so enthralled by the festivities that paying mind to a quiet conversation was a task to abandon. But to the two of them? Neither would be forgetting quite so soon. For sent to him was a simple quote. Godfrey's oblivious and sharp words verbatim for him to languish in once again:

"Great work today. That smile was pretty believable! If Doctor Light keeps programming you like that, we might make humans out of you yet. Thanks for the mug!"

-/-/-

Me: U ever just stp and ask urslf wht the hell ur doing?

Night Man: Fortunately not. We make for a fairly decisive lot. Something amiss?

Night Man: Twas a ruse, sir. Rhetorical question. Please tell me what's bothering you so. 

Me: Rude 😛

Night Man: What purpose, then, does reaching out with the arm and not the hand serve you? Finish your thoughts. 

Me: I jst wish i could do mre for kyurio. Everyones wrking so hrd and im faffignabut

Me: Faffing about

Night Man: No one with an inkling of the truth would surmise you to be a layabout. Your contributions outnumber that of myself and my ilk twice over

Me: Most of it bad

Night Man: Nonsense. You were merely the jester working at the behest of the king. Meanwhile we pillaged the homesteads of the villagers we were once sworn in to protect. 

Night Man: Blood may have stained both our hands, but intentions maketh man. 

Me: U cant b blamed 4 tht. 

Night Man: Nor can you. For that and all which fell in-between.

Me: I see ur point. Sneaky bstard

Me: Thank you

-/-/-

Godfrey had reached the bottom of the pile. Along with it, too, his apple cider. Damn. He'd been a smidge too distracted to notice. Parsing through the bulk of his messages fell to the wayside as the allure of his phone won out. A few back and forth conversations with Knight Man as Robot Wars blared on the tv. He wasn't quite sure when he'd grown fed up with the newscast today. Probably sometime after reading the onslaught of fellow reporters wishing him well and or woe. A simple joy could be found with the gameshow. What baffled Godfrey the most was just how popular the concept of Alpha and Beta line robots duking it out ended up being. Defying every expectation born from previous incursions. 

What brought Godfrey back to the task at hand was the (un)fortunate dropping of his phone. Lost beneath the couch. He'd have to fetch his arm to flail about down there and he admittedly simply didn't have it in him to commit. Instead he just flicked his slipper covered feet about and flipped through the rest of what'd been sent to him. Nothing really else of note. At least, of course, in comparison to the grand act of the soon to be evening. Eleven pages. Eleven pages of the thoughts, feelings, and surely the rage too of an abandoned Knight Man. A cursory glance revealed it to be from eleven separate days. To think all of this had been thrown into the vast nothingness. For what reason? 

Grabbing the remote to mute the tv, he sat up with a stretch. Time to actually focus. Knight Man made little mention of what he'd sent before. Clearly, though, it meant something. Texting a deactivated number accomplished nothing other than the sense of comfort provided to the one individual involved. A great deal of insight could be unearthed from what he'd find here. Was Godfrey even sure he wanted to know? The wise answer was perhaps not. But it felt wrong to be aware that Knight Man suffered in silence and yet not act upon it. His rage needed justification, his sorrows needed company, and his probably present well wishes needed a soft smile in return. To remain unheard and unseen is to simply not exist. Lost forever at the whims of fate.

Knight Man deserved the world. Such a feat was impossible for Godfrey to provide, so he hoped acknowledging these messages would suffice. For now at least. 

...

Oh

- - -

"Thoughts, feelings, and even foolish notions refuse to abate away like our human counterparts."

Godfrey, shoulder prosthesis hastily being slotted into place, stared once again at his muddled eyes in the mirror. He saw nothing more than an idiot. An absolute fool whose grey eyes colored the world literally. So incredibly dense that he'd inevitably sink faster than a hundred of his spines bound together. Probably in that pond as he deserved. Whatever peace he'd sought from those messages, on his behalf as well as Knight Man's, remained far beyond his reach. In its place, ever present and so willing to be devoured, was the muddled ball of something rolled flat and inscribed. Underlined, italicized, and duplicated in braille so even the blind could understand the vast world of ineptitude he'd fallen into. 

"They persist. Same as you."

A quiet hunger lingered underneath it all now. He'd been starved for confirmation of a truth withheld from himself. The clues were right there! Scrawled in elegant looping letters across his own forehead by a steady white gauntlet. Yet he'd washed it off without a second thought. So self-absorbed and invested in the project that he missed the forest for the trees. Infuriating. It'd been admitted to his face! Recorded for Dr. Kyurio, Knight Man, and the Board to reflect on. Godfrey's ignorance in that moment so many months ago held a now unrecognizable belief. His component in the equation at large was to be of service. Servitude through blood, sweat, and tears. The life of a true machine.

No more human than his long shattered assumptions of what the Alpha and Beta lines were supposed to be. 

"To what end does the strength of a single knight serve in the face of a man in conquest for the world?"

Even worse still, he'd come to discover the answer purely through seeing a reflection starkly different from the mirror at hand. No shocking moment of revelation brought about by his own thinking. Godfrey needed it spelled out in the most equally direct and indirect method possible. Through Knight Man's numerous texts, Godfrey recognized a splintered resemblance in his own thoughts. Topics and lines of thinking he'd waved aside as simple admiration and loyalty to the one who'd made so much possible. For the Robot Master who indulged Godfrey in his long lost humanity. But seeing another express the same albeit flipped feelings via text screamed of the deeper intentions. While he'd yet to explore the depth, he at least knew it existed now. 

"You've lost me, sir. Who?"

Godfrey Merrick was in fact, as described by the wise words of his soon to be savior, dumb

-/-/-

Me: Im such an idiot

Bliz: Wait, don't tell me!

Bliz: Actually. Do! 

Me: Ur were rght about our knight sitch

Bliz: HAHA! YES

Bliz: Just earned myself some new skis. 😁

Bliz: Tickled red about that. 

Me: ??

Bliz: OH, sorry. My current pair is pretty scuffed up. I made a bet with Doctor Kyurio earlier, and it looks like I won~

Me: Cool cool. U deserv smthing nice anyway. 1 less thng 4 u at chrsmas

Me: Also wait whht?

Bliz: Doesn't matter right now! We need to get you there ASAP.

Me: There? Stp 4 a sec

Bliz: We'll be there in an hour. Make sure you're dressed.

Bliz: This won't be free btb

Me: Btb? U mean btw?

Bliz: By the way, by the by, same thing. 

Me: I supos so

Bliz: If we do this, you HAVE to ask him. And I want pictures

Me: I can do tht.

-/-/-
- - -
-/-/-

Night Man: Good evening, sir! Thought you'd appreciate a brief visit before I settle in for another conquest. 

Me: Hey 😀

Night Man: Ah, wonderful to see that sunny attitude again! Twas worried after our discussion earlier. 

Me: U helpd a lot. Filming soon?

Night Man: Indeed I am! How about yourself? Up to anything in particular?

Me: Eh, nothng much. Jst some reading. 

-/-/-

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Me: Thank u 4 being so patient

Me: Sincerely 

Night Man: Bah, twas far easier a task than you consider it to be. 

Night Man: In your eyes, we've been brothers in arms. United under a single banner. You extended a portion of that unwavering dedication my way regardless of our differences and your greater call.

Night Man: If anything, tis I who blundered. Your return was assured. I let my own ambitions cloud the purpose of the campaign at large. My numerous attempts to reach out, in spite of the circumstances, accomplished nothing other than jeopardizing the project's safety. Perhaps it'd been for the best that you changed providers. 

Me: Shame. Im curious bout wht those messages sy. Still tho nt remotely what i meant

Me: But here. If itll make u feel bettr

Right Man: Admittedly, I'm unsure as to whether this could be considered an improvement. 

Me: I c it as a win

Right Man: Suppose that just makes you Wrong Man then, sir. 

Right Man: 「-Contact Name changed to "Wrong Man"-」

Me: Evil

-/-/-

It was repulsive, really, just how weak the flesh was. How fragile Godfrey's body seemed in comparison to the vast technological advantages the Robot Masters touted about. The most pressing of the night? The teleporting capabilities built into every single unit. At will, with a brief processing period, any Robot Master could warp themselves and any adjacent physical objects an immeasurable distance. By far one of the greatest scientific feats of the preceding generation. Seemingly effortless for the robot chassis the hardware was built into. Any organic associated with this process, however, suffered. Horribly. A plight Godfrey unwillingly clued himself into. 

Mankind never evolved with the concept of instantaneous transportation of their matter in mind. The process barred all senses from the equation. Chucking everything to the wind in the blink of an eye as their very molecules were hurtled across the planet at speeds beyond mental comprehension. Convenient. Until, of course, it stopped. In the inevitable moment as the surroundings whipped into focus, when boots touched the ground. The best Godfrey could muster up in thought, as he vomited into a rain covered trashcan, was that damn news van. That perplexing combination of rising relative to his surroundings and the sinking of his inner organs. 

Stretched from one continent to another. Or wherever this studio was. Godfrey had beat feet to find the nearest trashcan as soon as his head registered the neck underneath it. His two peers, Dr. Kyurio and Blizzard Man, were too engaged in their own conversation to notice immediately. At least until the sounds of his retching reached their ears. There went the iced apple cider. Along with the meager lunch he'd forgotten to eat most of in favor of his excitement. So while Blizzard Man got the sitrep of the situation inside the filming site, Dr. Kyurio comforted Godfrey's still hunched over form. 

A few disposable napkins decorated with the solar system made their way into twitching hands clutching the rim of the can. Good thing too that they weren't to be returned. Wiping his face, even from his limited peripherals inside the trash, he could see Dr. Kyurio's bemused smile. A relatable grimace mingled with whatever comfort he could provide in the given moment. His words too reflected this sense of understanding. Soft but with the grit of a man on a mission. Ironically more so dedicated to a cause Godfrey just clued himself into a literal hour ago. Strange was an understatement.

"I'll have you know I've been banned from teleporting in Dr. Light's lab. Not that I blame the man, hah! I've ruined a few too many nights of takeout at my own insistence to save time. I won't be having you make the same mistake."

A bag of, well, something was tucked into one of the oversized pockets in Godfrey's winter coat. Another few minutes of calming circles on his back, along with the cold metal of the lead pressed against his forehead, had him up and well enough to stand proper. His stomach still tossed with the motion of turning alone but what else could he do? Other than reach into his coat and produce what appeared to be a sandwich bag of dried apple slices. Godfrey's confusion grew into the irresistible urge to tease the older man. It'd been half a year if not longer since they'd last spoke. Their first interaction afterwards? A packed lunch and a backrub for an upset "tummy."

"Thanks doc, but am I going off to school now?"

Dr. Kyurio's upright back faced Godfrey then. His peering gaze focused on the double doors separating the loud cheering within from the parking lot they'd made way into. The soft drizzle of rain beating upon their shoulders both made for an almost stoic visual. Age may have slowed Java physically, but he'd outbox anyone mentally if challenged. Surely busy contemplating the circumstances and requirements surrounding whatever they were about to do.

"That'd make for far easier of an evening! No, it's just what my son and I eat to help with the motion sickness."

He made a mental note to snack on them later, when the idea of tilting his head downwards didn't send himself into a vomit-induced spiral. Godfrey bumped up beside Dr. Kyurio in the meantime as he gave the situation an assessment himself. They'd been dropped off inside a fenced-in parking lot. A wide booth of some sort, manned by a guard currently overwhelmed by the discussion he was having with an equally wide Blizzard Man, separated them from the city streets beyond. The skyline drowned in the downpour. Too much for Godfrey to distinguish the where. Directly in front of them sat doors into what Godfrey presumed to be the current filming location. 

Robot Wars, live. Huh.

Gods above, that made for a slightly intimidating task. It wouldn't be the first time Godfrey meandered into a building or a site without expressed permission from those within. Typically though he had a few other studio workers or crew members alongside him to help soften the blow if they'd been routed out. Here though? From what Blizzard Man and Dr. Kyurio hinted at, they were expecting a great deal more. Walking into an active film-shoot, confronting Knight Man regarding whatever the hell Godfrey felt, taking pictures, and seemingly walking back out without stirring up the hive. Alone. As if that'd be something someone could casually do without preparation. 

The patchwork conversation between Godfrey and Dr. Kyurio continued on regardless of the silence. Godfrey contemplated the best way to even approach this as the doctor provided what assurance he could. Initially what he interpreted to be unrelated platitudes about his evolving dynamic with Knight Man quickly distinguished themselves to be something uniquely private to them both. All spoken with a casual air unfitting for the privacy required. Perhaps, though, that made for an excellent front. 

"We're making headway. Their early attempts to sack us fell apart about as quickly as we expected. Now we've locked the old horns with the Board. It's slow going, I'm sorry to admit, but nothing I haven't overcome before. My son has been a tremendous help too."

A quick reply on his phone later, nothing more than a flash of white, he continued his rambles. 

"You'll be pleased to know most of the pushback we're facing internally comes from our sponsors within the military. Old suits, mostly. Humanizing their war machines was never within their best interest or budgets. Much of what we've been presenting has been taken at face value. Not that they've had much choice in the matter. We dodged their claims of circumstantial evidence by the multi-generational sample size you picked out."

Dr. Kyurio took that moment to direct all of his attention towards Godfrey. The hood of the doctor's reflective jacket shrouded most of what Godfrey could see now, but even that did little to ease the full force of the doctor's interest. Intensive, sure, but proud. Well-meaning. There was a degree of insight here that seemed unique to them alone. 

"I've read your memoirs, Godfrey. You should be proud. This may not be the shooting star we can wish on, but we'd be fools to not have hope. Which is exactly what you need to remember! Go on, go get him!"

"I don't see how that's related."

Stepping behind Godfrey, Dr. Kyurio gave a good push sending them both several steps towards the door. And, in part, that much closer to the Robot Master inside. 

"We already established your awareness is as nebulous as a solar eclipse. Leave that to your elders."

Godfrey, spluttering, offered the only rebuttal that came to mind.

"Last time I checked, we're both a couple decades older than Blizzard Man. At least."

The doctor didn't linger long enough to reply. Wandering off immediately afterwards to talk with Blizzard Man and the now enamored security guard. They both huddled over what looked to be a phone. Their laughter echoed down the parking lot, only being drowned out by the occasional cheer of the numerous crowds inside. The quickly welcomed Java added a third voice to the cacophony. Goofy, warming, and ever so slightly concerning given the importance of security. Not that Godfrey could really blame someone for falling for the charm of these Robot Masters. He'd done nothing but study such a thing for longer than strictly necessary. Or perhaps just as much as what'd been needed. 

Another violent whoop and applause from the doors now pressed against Godfrey's back reminded him of his purpose here. Outside of the surprising but well meaning reunion with Dr. Kyurio, the "enlightening" trip with Blizzard Man's teleporting, and discovering the location of the current Robot Wars filming set (if he could figure out where "here" was). He'd been brought to this place, above all else, to set the record straight. To conclude the final log in his own memoir regarding the unusual friendship he'd formed with Knight Man. So much of their dynamic in hindsight was flavored with hints of elements extending far beyond platonic companionship. 

As overly straight historians would've described them if that portion of his life was inscribed and inscribed alone, "They were just friends." But what position could Godfrey really argue with them on? The litany of obvious indicators remained tucked away in favor of some semblance of project preservation. The concept of feeling as a whole was typically associated with his habit of numbing his physical sensors in his prosthesis port. Not that he was above or below romantic idealizations. His remorse for his prior ignorance aside, Godfrey was still human. Painfully so. Yet it never crossed his mind that the overly friendly Robot Master who went to such great lengths for the project was anything other than just that. 

Strange. And what exactly did Godfrey feel? That proved to be the biggest question of them all. A conundrum that his admittedly little recent self-reflection couldn't put an answer to yet. A deeper sense of longing had been brought out from reading Knight Man's numerous messages. He recognized it as his own as sure and swift as he recognized Knight Man's blatant intentions. Too little too late then. But he had an opportunity now to put it to mend. If, of course, he could discern just what exactly he was wanting. At the very least, Godfrey wanted to keep talking to Knight Man. to have that presence in his day to day life even at this distance. 

Anything beyond that? Godfrey supposed he'd just have to take the benefits as they'd come, piecing together this puzzle on the fly. The faded plate on the first wall stating "Staff Entrance" caught his eye. Staff? Now that was feasible. He'd pretended to be far worse before. No time like the present. Smoothing his hair back inside his flatcap, he straightened out his coat and pushed his way through the thankfully unlocked doors. Straight into the den with nary a moment to debate with himself for another few months. Not that he'd been aware of that to begin with. Oh well. There were more important elements to dwell on. Such as the noise.

Noise. Nothing but noise. Scrambling technicians pushing assorted film crew aside, carts loaded with parts clacking along the ribbed metal ramps just a handrail away, and executives barking orders and receiving feedback. The crashing and grinding of robotic contestants inside an arena just out of view. Godfrey didn't need to see the contents inside to feel the excitement. After all, the crowd of spectators and broadcasters had that covered. Ooing and aahing at every resounding clash. It seemed to be working well enough in spite of the overwhelming volume. Nothing he could've watched would have prepared him for this level of racket. 

Godfrey kept himself moving regardless of his hidden surprise. He needed to mingle in with the spectators. Wherever that may end up being, of course. So he held his head low, eyes forward, and trudged along. Scooting past without any hesitation. He needed to be here. No doubt in his mind. Reflecting that in his gait worked wonders in keeping any curious minds at bay. By the time they realized he didn't have and ID badge stapled to his hip, he'd hopefully be out of the building proper. Snaking in and out of hallways, miscellaneous rooms, and stairwells. All of his aimed wandering brought him to what seemed to be the upper observation deck.

Full-body glass windows lining the upper half of the inner building, all surrounding the arena proper. This would do. As he shirked his coat off and kept it loosely tossed over his left shoulder, he took in the crowd flanking around him. Unaffiliated mostly by the looks of things. A good chunk of fans, surprisingly. Godfrey guessed the time of day mattered little to them if it meant they could watch one of these skirmishes up in person. Under any other circumstance, he'd be just as wide-eyed and fixated. The spectacle from the reruns alone held his attention. But he ignored the competition at large. There was something else to oogle instead. 

From this angle, Godfrey could see his goal perfectly. Stoically standing in the corner. Thick yellow and black caution lines divided the general arena from their certain death. Godfrey would argue the obstacles were far, far less dangerous than the Robot Master tucked aside so innocuously. Not a single twitch to indicate life. Zero signs of activity other than the occasional flickering of those red LCD's visible even from this distance. Some saw a statue. The competitors, if they were smart, saw a predator in wait. Godfrey recognized this to be far more than that. Knight Man's stance was the showmanship of a proud man. At attention and happily doing so. The threat came second. 

At least until that divide was crossed.

As, of course, it typically was. Alpha line contestants found that shoving their opponents in Knight Man's general direction proved to be more devastating than most blows from their beefed up Beta counterparts. As demonstrated by the showing they'd all been given the joy to witness now. A former garbage disposal model, tripping on a small oil spill, could do nothing but slide and pivot towards its inevitable knight-themed destruction. Its notable heft kept it in the running thus far. A sturdy core with reinforced outer plating made it notoriously difficult to bring down. Seemed the solution was to just let the problem tend to itself. A task Knight Man happily obliged with. 

Godfrey tensed his hands in his pockets, awaiting what came next. The garbage bot collided with the braced shield. That'd be the only grace given to it, as the crowd watched Knight Man's chain cannon rise up and push against the upper thicker swath of plating along the chest. A devastatingly heavy spiked ball most associated with bludgeoning meeting the metal. Doing nothing more than holding it there. Initially. But everyone here knew better. The crowd jumped and grew quiet at the sound of the echoing blast. Chunks of metal showered across the chain mesh surrounding the inner arena as the ball and chain continued through its adjacent target and into the middle of the arena. Reeled in without a second thought and catching on the now slumped over robotic shell. 

A ground-denting stomp of a boot later, and Knight Man stood before nothing more than a pile of scrap. Eviscerating efficiency garnished with a simple return to the upright affixed posture from before. The crowd went wild. Godfrey may have done a little bit of shouting himself. Just a tiny bit. So what if the camera panning over the crowd's reaction probably caught a glimpse of him cheering on with manic glee like it was the execution of a monarch? Godfrey took the moment to produce his phone and take a quick picture of the once again statuesque Knight Man standing over-top his hunt. Regal, a hair intimidating, and somehow empowering the concoction of emotions swirling around Godfrey's head and in his gut. 

Destruction shouldn't be this alluring, damn it.

It was a good photo, all things considered. He'd probably be using it to replace the default profile picture associated with Knight Man's phone number. But that could come later. First, with some minor hesitation, Godfrey turned his phone around and stood up against the glass. Catching a few odd stares but their opinion mattered little. This would be the first self-picture he'd taken since the last time he'd been approached on the street. Back before Gamma's rampage. Sitting on a bench outside his favorite deli taking selfies with fans and supporters alike. Things seemed so simple then. This'd be another type of first too. One serving not as a replication, but instead as a foundation.

There Godfrey was. A nervous smile accompanied by the blurry side profile of Knight Man through the glass below. Not the best he'd ever taken of himself. That'd never been the point. There would be no turning back from this. No blissful ignorance to fall back upon. No avoidance through work or projects. If he sent this message and the attachment alongside it, Godfrey would be embracing a world so unfamiliar to him. He never considered any of it a possibility before for countless reasons. But now a decision needed to be made. Hesitating fingers lingered over the button. Human. Much like what Knight Man had been feeling for so long now.

Time to be brave. No running this time. 

-/-/-

Me: -IMAGE PENDING-

Me: Wow. U sure shwd him

Right Man: Twas nothing special, although I'm chuffed you've enjoyed the spectacle! We can only hold the hope in our hearts that your current TV stomps your old pile of rubbish to bits. 

Me: -IMAGE SENT-

Me: Eh. Mch bettr live

Me: Hows ths angle?

Right Man: Oh?

Right Man: Let's see here.

Right Man: INCONCEIVABLE

-/-/-

The sound of the crowd gasping around Godfrey should've been the first clue. But only when he looked up from his phone and saw Knight Man, eyes flaring brighter than any searchlight, did he realize he may have made a critical mistake. The Robot Master craned his neck upwards and with pinpoint precision honed in on Godfrey's face. At least he assumed so. The blindingly vibrant beams made discerning anything a smidge difficult. Until something fried and shattered with a quiet fizzling noise. The red swatch cut in half by a blown LCD. As perfect of a cue as any to take his leave, Godfrey thought. The shoot was thankfully wrapping up which meant a sudden influx of technicians. 

Good to mingle in and escape with. Knight Man could catch up with him outside. The minor spectacle, due to the sudden light show if nothing else, covered his tracks. Only a few people seemed to connect two and two together. Even then, they wouldn't recognize Godfrey. Not dressed as he was and certainly not a continent away from his typical stomping ground (assuming he was in Europe). So out he went. Down the staircases, across the hallways, past the railings, and through the staff entrance's double doors. Godfrey pulled his heavy coat on as the revived rain gave its welcome. What a shame. He'd just started drying. 

No one awaited him outside. No sign of Dr. Kyurio or Blizzard Man. The security booth at the end of the parking lot seemed to be still manned sans the booth sized snowman. They must've left. Unfortunate. A quick look at his phone, blatantly ignoring the eight unread messages from Knight Man, told the tale: a quarter past ten at night. This cold and miserable weather wouldn't do the doctor any favors. Godfrey now had nothing to do other than browse through the news and loiter around in the weather outside. Knight Man could piece together just where Godfrey wandered off to. He'd tell the Robot Master himself, but, well. Hmm. He supposed he was scared.

Fear was a bit of a strong term. More so anxious of what Knight Man's reaction could entail. Godfrey despised surprises. Yet he'd done just that. Would Knight Man shut this interaction down on the grounds of job security? That made reasonable sense. Godfrey's appearance as a whole was dangerous in certain communities. Had been, at least. No one knew him personally on site here. Perhaps a few knew of him. News tended to spread wide and fast regardless of intention. Had he just royally fucked this up? A moment of firm decision making spurred on from a needless gesture? Perhaps Godfrey read too much into the situation as a whole.

A great deal of possibilities, questions, and hypotheticals. Spiraling would accomplish nothing. Only one way to find out. 

-/-/-

Right Man: Surely not?!?

Right Man: 「-Contact Name changed to "Conniving Scoundrel"-」

Right Man: HAHA, finally! How's this for showmanship?

Right Man: Oh bother. Are you well? 

Right Man: You scuttled off shockingly fast. Did I blind you? 

Right Man: My sincere apologies. I've never blown a fuse like this before. On air too! 

Right Man: Rather embarrassing, I must admit.

Right Man: Sir? Where did you wander off to? 

Me: Outside staff entrnce

Right Man: What a relief! Be expecting my arrival with open arms.

Right Man: Once they mend this old eye of mine. 

Me: No rush

Right Man: You'd be wrong there. There's quite a rush, sir. 

Right Man: I've been on a constant vigil, awaiting such a thing. 😊

Right Man: Just a moment!

-/-/-

Well. That could've gone significantly worse.

Godfrey liked to consider himself someone who considered a wide berth of outcomes. Analytical by nature, it became more of a necessity in the past few years. There still were an ocean's toybox worth of things outside his typical purview. Such as the upcoming simple equation that hindsight would've taught him the answer to. What's the outcome of mixing an overly excited Robot Master weighing at minimum a ton, a set of steel doors, and Godfrey's idly pacing form on the other side of said doors? An absolute catastrophe that most could predict from a mile away. But this only came across his mind at the same point the door did his face. Violently. 

He wasn't quite sure of much at that point. A vague collection of snapshots detailing his short journey head first into an adjacent car's trunk. Laying there on the wet asphalt, rain peppering his face, he thought the end above him surely wouldn't be covered by insurance. Something told him that neither he nor Knight Man would be reporting the accident. Or perhaps they would. After all, there were at least two Knight Men hunched over-top. Ooh, fun. Fussing and apologizing over something. One in three odds seemed more likely. Maybe it'd buff out. Yeah. Funny to think one of the only parts of his body without much metal in it left such an impression.

Knight Men subsided into an equally as interesting Knight Man, the world eventually stilled, and Godfrey found himself being pulled to his feet after a quick assessment. Guess he hadn't been hit hard enough for a concussion. Knight Man would be glad to know it only took a crashing news van to get that far. The impact did, however, bring back the stomach queasiness from earlier. No love lost with that. So there it was. Godfrey's first interaction with Knight Man, finally face to helmeted face after half a year apart, was to quickly bolt away and return to the lovely pastime of hurling up stomach acids into a now well-used trash bin. Wonderful. 

- - -

Face beyond tender, throat torn to shreds, and body absolutely soaking wet, Godfrey finally rose from his hunch with a wince. The ambient lighting from the parking lot lights overhead mingled with the intentionally dialed down crimson glow. Knight Man lingered just out of reach. Not hovering indecisively as some do. Simply waiting. A crushed and waterlogged bag of dried apple chips sat in his open palm. One offering it out, while the cannon shielded it above from the elements. So simple of a gesture. Yet, that patience and casual thoughtfulness stung worse than the inevitable bruising that'd form on Godfrey's face. This was not how tonight should've went. 

"How are you feeling, sir? I'm certain you've grown weary in part by my apologies. Regardless, I'm so terribly sorry. Had I known you loitered just beyond the door... Why, I would've reconsidered my approach at once. 

Godfrey's head still ached. Scrambled. He needed to think. Tap into something. Anything. If he lost focus now and gave into looming unconsciousness, it would've all been a wash. 

An opportunity came to mind then. Reminiscent of his interviews prior. Methods used to discern the truth from the jumbled mix of partial lies and misleading information. So much he could implement to turn the tide of this evening into something more palatable for them both. The issue at hand needed to be addressed. Unfortunately only Godfrey seemed to be in the "know" regarding it. He doubted Knight Man knew that Godfrey knew. Even if that were to be the case, Godfrey was certain that they both expected nothing to come from it. Knight Man seemed content to leave things as they were. Even if it meant repressing whatever the hell they'd been thinking. Or feeling. 

Whatever could get them both away from the soon to be nineteenth apology in a row. 

So which of his perplexing tools would he utilize? Numerous years of experience to rely upon. Of the tactics that littered the wreckage of his still slightly barfy brain, one stepped forward. It took Godfrey a moment to visualize it. Understand it. Appreciate it, even, in its simplicity. Beautiful. Immaculate. A real zinger of a headliner. If, of course, he was still titling articles posted in conjunction to the studio's broadcasts. Multi-purposed and multifaceted until the last. Stepping forward, Godfrey fished for his phone. Missing. It might as well be an ID badge at this point for the amount of good it'll do him. 

Guess he'd be approaching this piece with no camera, no notes, and no aid. No references to previous material and certainly nothing to rely upon other than himself. Back to square one albeit this time with a different project. One Godfrey seemingly had been working on as an extracurricular activity in-between the seams. Godfrey'd been blind, deaf, and in many was incomprehensibly mute. No longer. For his work to continue unabated, he needed to remove the dilemma from the equation other than himself: doubt. He rapped his knuckles on Knight Man's chestpiece straight faced and steely eyed. 

The tactical bombshell of a plan he'd been contemplating? Mingled in with all that nervous internal rambling and self-diagnostic thinking? Frank honesty.

"Not so bad, actually. I'm just glad to be here with you."

Knight Man's digitized eyes squinted as much as the LCD's could reasonably achieve. He felt something was amiss, if Godfrey could hazard a guess. They both expected a different mood to be set from this evening of surprises and failures. And assault, technically. Knight Man lingered on the last portion as he replied with the air of feigned belief. 

"Mhm. I see. Would you be so kind as to wait here, sir, as I fetch us a paramedic?"

This simply wouldn't do. Godfrey, with his prosthetic, snapped his arm out and caught the underside of a pauldron. Tapping into as much of his artificial durability and strength as possible to keep Knight Man from walking out of earshot. In truth, Knight Man could easily just take a step back and pry the mount from the rigging in Godfrey's shoulder with his weight alone. The message however still rang clear. Now it fell upon Godfrey to explain the reasoning and the meaning for which. If words could do the situation justice.

"I've taken worse falls. I'd rather we stay here and talk for a bit if that's alright."

"On your word, sir."

No masks. No avoidance through a greater cause. Godfrey stood before this particular Robot Master as a man pleading his unheard side of the case, not an advocate fighting tooth and nail for what was right. Some still argued what he began to broach countered every ounce of effort. Immoral to feel something for another man. Immoral to feel something for a construct regardless of its above human intelligence and personality. Given the circumstances though, Godfrey's own morality meant nothing to him. Legally he should've been convicted without a moment's hesitation. But through his silence, and inability to forget, he set into motion the gears of change. Living in a world of grey to provide the future a pallet of bright shades. 

His stoic face crumbled then. The quiet laugh escaping him the result of a great many things. Here Godfrey was! The same day he'd learned the truth about himself and potentially Knight Man. No time to really reflect on the situation this would put them both in. But Godfrey was sick of analyzing and critiquing life. It fueled his ambitions during his coast-aimed wandering after his self-inflicted exile. But he needed not a reason to hide anymore. Yet, despite knowing now that this strength came in part from the influence of Knight Man's role in his life prior, it all felt so terribly fast. What was an overwhelmed man to do other than tell the truth?

"I read your messages."

The first of many puzzle pieces slotted together for Knight Man, if the tightening posture was of any indication. He remained silent as he drew to his full height. Rain battering them both as they waited for Godfrey to continue on. Ask and thou shall receive. He'd do his best. At this point, that'd be enough. 

"had a comfortable afternoon planned for it too. I'd wanted to surprise you with a reference about it tomorrow. Something silly. You know, just to clue you in that the void you'd been yelling into wasn't permanent. But gods above, Knight Man, what the hell have you done to me?"

Perpetual stillness. As if whatever sentience inhabited that chassis vacated at the threat of this conversation alone. But Godfrey knew Knight Man was listening. He always was. 

"I was an idiot, as Blizzard Man was always keen to remind me of. I saw a lot of myself in those messages. The man I had been. The man I wanted to be. Just so happens that whatever the hell that better version of myself is supposed to be always includes you. I'd ignored that feeling back when we mingled in the city. I guess much like how I blatantly disregarded the rest of what was best for me. All in favor of getting the proposal off the ground. I'm not going to apologize for that. No matter how often you and everyone else will call me a fool."

His tight grasp loosened enough for Knight Man to step away without the risk of hurting Godfrey. Giving them both an out in case either grew uncomfortable. Yet nothing changed. They both drew in strength from their mutual decision to stay. No longer alone with their own thoughts.  

"The quiet wants, or whatever you called them during your interview, that lingered in the back of my mind came to the forefront once I knew my part in all this was done. I wish I could express to you just how much I felt once that weight was lifted. I never traveled alone, big guy. My car may've been empty, but you kept me company just as well. This of course only got worse when I started texting you. Do you know how little work I get done now that I've got you added as a contact?"

Knight Man's voice came out as a strained whisper. As if they'd both been sneaking down the echoing halls of some lord's castle and even the slightest mumble would ring out like a dropped platter. Fear. Unfamiliar to them much in the same way as the nature of addressing this very situation. 

"You? Inefficient? Laughable."

Godfrey wouldn't be matching that hesitant tone. The depth of whatever pit they both stumbled into eluded him still, but what was there to be afraid of now? The hardest part passed by with nothing more than some severe dampness and a mild concussion. The possible benefits far outweighed whatever it would cost to replace the phone surely living in a pool of water by now. 

"Har har. I'm serious. Ask Blizzard Man. I'm out there shoveling snow with a phone in my mitts instead of a shovel. If he hadn't been so invested in us talking, I doubt he would've put up with the extra bullshit."

That threw Knight Man for a loop. Much of his previous steadfast attitude returned by this point as he shot off his own questions. Good. 

"Blizzard Man? Truly? That's twice now you've mentioned him. He'd given no indication of such a thing."

"Well it wouldn't be much of a bet if they rigged it, now would it?"

"Hold there-"

Nope. If Knight Man wanted an answer about that, he'd have to ask the dynamic cupid duo himself. Instead, Godfrey brought his hand back and into his soaked jacket's pockets. The next question could possibly undermine this entire effort. It, like most dreadful things in his life, became a necessity on the approach. Nothing of worth ever came easy. He refused to let whatever this could be stand on a foundation of misinformation and discontent. Godfrey needed this to be spelled out for him. 

"Are you seeing anyone? No gallant humor."

A crackling echoed out from the darkness underneath Knight Man's helmet. Distorted and spluttery, Godfrey could only interpret it as, well, snickering. He knew exactly what came next and yet he was absolutely powerless to stop it. Perhaps he should've been less specific with his so-called ban. If it helped Knight Man get the answer across though? So be it. 

"Seeing anyone you say, sir? There's one before me."

Godfrey refused to indulge that bout of silliness. Even if he had to grit his teeth to fight the smile. There wasn't much of a silence though. Knight Man hadn't quite had his fill just yet.

"Mayhaps if I turned around, I'd lock eyes with the congregated zoo of staff snooping about where they very much so didn't belong. Jokes, each and every one of them. And yet-"

Knight Man pivoted slightly, stepping to the side enough to fully conceal Godfrey from the distant doorway they'd come from before. Private to them both were his eyes. Fuzzy, barely decipherable, and aching. A gauntlet rose to gently flatten the upright collar of Godfrey's soggy jacket, lingering flat against the chest beneath. Perfectly at the seam between flesh and prosthesis. Through so many layers. Memorized, having only witnessed it once. Gods. 

"-the wildest of jests would be that very notion you propositioned. As if there ever could be a man as utterly spectacular and bewildering as the one gracing me with his presence now."

Godfrey's thoughts ran rampant, too numerous to count past the firing of the starting pistol. Each was equally unreadable and undigestible. Literal noise in the crowd once again. But he latched onto the first with the might of a man fed up with the rain, himself, and this ever-growing headache pulling at the insides of his skull. It didn't matter just how tonally strange it sounded coming out of his own mouth, nor did it matter that Godfrey struggled to think about anything else other than the firm feel of metal through his clothing. What mattered was that he at least said something. Right?

"Wow. Who knew you were such a flirt?"

With a surprisingly repugnant gaze thrown behind his shoulder at the still amassing crowd, Knight Man sighed. Irritation buzzed beneath the artificial huff. Seemed he wasn't a fan of observers. Not that Godfrey blamed him. 

"Flirt? Nay, tis simply how you court someone worth the banner overhead. Flirting is for charlatans and Elec Man. Now if you'll excuse me for the briefest of moments, I dare say I should cut my evening with them short."

Godfrey shot him an eyebrow typically saved for Blizzard Man's recent misnomers. Especially so after Knight Man reluctantly removed his gauntlet from Godfrey's coat. They both found their answer. Complicated as it may have been to get here, and even more so just how jumbled the path forward may be, at least there was progress. That along with a treasure trove of now muddled sensations lingering beneath. Grinning, he gave an order they both knew Knight Man would oblige. 

"What's a little more waiting in the rain, eh? There's a lot we need to talk about tonight. Make it quick."

Tried and true, as consistent as the sunrise, Knight Man let his assurance be known. 

"On your word, sir."

Chapter Text

"Sir! Do my eyes deceive me?"

"Hmm?"

Godfrey, with an uncomfortable hiss as he began prying the stuck joint loose in his arm, turned his attention to the living room. Away from the bathroom and towards the astounded Knight Man marveling at the lumpy albeit comfortable couch. It didn't take Godfrey long to pick up on what Knight Man must've noticed. He supposed that if he too lived a life where the majority of furniture crumbled under his weight, the appearance of something he could truly sit on would be alarming. He wasn't given much time to initially dwell on it as another pang crawled through his shoulder. The unwanted wave of chills that came afterward hurried his motions. 

Hopefully the meds he'd taken would kick in soon, cold and pain both. He'd be feeling the effects of the weather and the door for the next week or so. His fingers pried up the synthetic skin seal with a pop. The rain never mixed well with his injuries. The aching ended up only being exacerbated by his rather eventful day prior to this. Swelling aside, he needed to take the prosthesis off. Godfrey hesitated for only a brief moment as he noticed he'd be doing so in the presence of company. Nothing more than an innate response from someone so used to keeping his little fact hidden. But Knight Man witnessed this before and, if his little performance earlier was any indication, never forgot the sight. Godfrey couldn't see the appeal personally.

He wasn't the one to ask though. The silencing of his sensors later, he chucked his arm towards the couch with haphazard aim. He'd never been known for his athleticism though. The prosthetic rebounded off the furniture's backing and clattered onto the floor. Oops. Eh, it was a hair away from being tucked under the side table. Good enough for him. He liked to keep his apartment relatively clean but there was something pleasant in having a personal space to occasionally dirty. Apparently not though for his guest as Knight Man immediately afterwards strode forwards to snag it from its resting spot. Godfrey swept by, shoulder mount in hand, and swatted the outstretched gauntlet with the lump of metal. Like smacking an oil tanker, damn. 

"It can live down there for all I care. But yeah, Blizzard Man helped me get something refurbished after he sat through the last one. Try it out. I'd like to see if it can handle your chonk."

Knight Man nodded along with that common tidbit of understanding, ignoring the silly comment entirely. The sixth generation in particular unfortunately struggled from the repercussions of their design philosophies. How'd he even come to learn about that though still made Godfrey laugh. A long night of unanswered questions later after a visit to a furniture store gave Godfrey all the context he could ever need. The base principles of human rights weren't applied to Robot Masters by the public. Instead, in a cruel twist of irony, carpenters and home decorators anthropomorphized their frequently destroyed creations. Not the ones that used the Alpha Line components, oh no. Just the standard furniture. 

Shouting about the unjust damage to the products they sold while paying no mind to the fact they were selling these things to be used and abused. Chairs were made to be sat upon. Yet the Beta Line as a whole maintained a gnarly reputation of slaying furniture by doing just that. Of course a sentient and animated individual made of nothing but metal and other components would weigh more than the average human. Some created models were far lighter than others. Through revisions or base specifications, it didn't matter much. The problem never stopped being universal. But nowhere was it more prevalent than with the sixth generation. Perhaps Mr. X, Dr. Wily, or whoever the hell he'd been that day posed a fair point in the tournament's requirements. 

Before he kidnapped and reprogrammed all of the attending Robot Masters, he'd ordered that all designated locations be maintained and kept up to code for convenience. Not human convenience. Robotic convenience. So much of the published material from the news picked up on the plight decorators and designers faced. After all, how did someone quickly make an easily movable chair support up to two tons of metallic heft? That wasn't even including the other technical complications that made the sixth generation as unique as they were. Quadrupedal movement, forced heat tolerances, natural and uncontrollable frost generation, and required sunlight exposure to list just a few. 

The construction of their respective arenas almost led to a union strike, resolved by the donations paid off by Mr. X. Of course he recovered that money back afterwards with their following deaths at the hands of the captured Robot Masters. No one really won that debacle. It did, however, lead to the increased production of Alpha and Beta line appropriate furniture. Typically purchased by labs and other service areas employing Robot Masters as workers. Expensive and a royal pain in the ass to find. At least it existed. Not to the general public sans a few exceptions, but Blizzard Man knew the right people. Any of Godfrey's questions that day were blatantly ignored. It'd served as a rare insight into the deeper trauma the Robot Master hid away. 

Godfrey still wasn't quite sure where Blizzard Man found the couch, let alone who refurbished it, but it certainly wasn't going anywhere now. Knight Man's enthusiasm made the hassle of getting it installed and bolted into the concrete floor beneath the carpet worth every ounce. Silly, really, to see Knight Man completely forgo any sense of knighthood in favor of jumping from one position to another on the couch. Debating on something internal, just before disconnecting his boots and sprawling along its length. His shield and flail had been left behind with the technicians back at the film site so he'd nothing to stop him now. Pure indulgence. All Godfrey could see from his angle over the back of the couch was an uplifted head peering over the edge. 

The helmet's inner lining focused the red glare into a joyful haze, playing into Knight Man's sarcasm as he spoke up. The mock pain in his voice all too apparent.

"You've struck a devastating blow to me, sir. Depriving me of this overwhelming joy. Why, I say it's maddening!"

"Hush."

His pants, equally as drenched as the jacket now tucked beside the front door, made for an excellent projectile when balled up and tossed at his crested target. Godfrey needed to change into something more comfortable and preferably dry lest he contract something far worse than a cold. His already stuffy head could be attributed to the onset of an illness. Or, more likely, the door and car bumper combo he'd been dealt less than an hour ago. He'd be taking no chances. With one pair of snowflake patterned pajama bottoms and a fluffy black bathrobe donned, Godfrey returned to the living room only to see Knight Man had yet to move. Jeans still bundled around his helmet like a sleep mask. His head cocked towards Godfrey's voice as he spoke. 

"You good in there?"

Knight Man, flourishing an arm upwards, replied while taking great care to keep his head exactly as positioned prior. More precaution than necessary to keep his sight obscurred. Just a bit strange but the undercurrent of humor kept any questions at bay. 

"Perfectly so. Are you dressed?"

Ah, okay. That checked out. He really shouldn't have expected anything less. Cute. But Knight Man would be quickly learning that Godfrey's modesty in his own apartment was less than stellar. Tonight's level of dress was the exception to the rule and even that pushed the boundary a bit. But as he reminded himself, Knight Man had probably seen worse. 

"Not entirely, but I'm comfortable."

Godfrey took a few steps around the side of the couch, bringing along with him the previously disregarded pants. A laundry basket sat across the room against the door. The bottom lined in towels to help with the melting snow that his clothes typically left behind, it worked perfectly for the rest of his clothes sans the jacket. Perhaps this too. At least it would've if he could aim worth a damn. A wet thwap against the door rang out like a shameful cattle bell's return home. Oops. Again. Godfrey looked down at Knight Man's upturned gaze, taking in the fact that for a Robot Master who championed respect, he certainly wasn't respectfully looking. The waist high angle Knight Man had been situated at didn't help. 

But there was much they needed to discuss. Godfrey continued on past and did his best to maneuver himself onto the opposite end of the couch. Without the two oversized boots, Knight Man's legs were like two thin street poles ending in socketed nubs. The visual reminded Godfrey of the numerous amputees he'd come to know during his stint at physical therapy. Just how much did a single leg weigh in comparison to Godfrey's own? He wasn't about to find out by putting them atop him, so he instead softly pushed a compliant Knight Man into an upright position. Far easier to talk this way as the time finally came. Not that they'd been putting the topic off since their arrival. There just didn't seem a need to rush. The homey vibes felt, well, at home. 

Much how they both, through mutual association, agreed to do what they could to avoid overthinking things once Knight Man stepped out of the building's now bent doors a second time. They'd both spent so much time questioning themselves that they ended up muted. Knight Man's inadvertent confession aside, Godfrey doubted they would've ever approached the ground at any reasonable pace if not for how events played out. An opportunity presented itself. Wasting it with self-doubt and indecision seemed a bit counterintuitive. Far easier said than done as lofty goals go. For that, of course, and making the distinction between necessary and frivolous questions. Which looped back to the first problem. A nasty cycle. 

Straight into business then, lest he think some more. 

"What's the plan with your career, big guy? I'm sure your supervisors peppered you with a dozen questions. Would it be safe if we were to get involved?"

Knight Man, beginning the habit formed motion to wave the question off, stopped suddenly. Genuinely contemplating what'd been posed with the due respect. As fun and casual as their friendship had been, they'd never hesitated to tackle serious situations as needed. Godfrey still vividly remembered his confession in that dingy shack. This would be remarkably easy in comparison. It didn't take Knight Man long to answer the question with his own. 

"I see. Perhaps you've yet to piece this together. May I ask why you left, sir?"

That surprised Godfrey just a hair. They'd already discussed the ramifications of the situation at hand numerous times. Both directly and in-between the countless lines of text they'd been sending each other. But as soon as Godfrey sat up to explain the case as asked, Knight Man shook his head and clarified. 

"Twas not meant to be read as the letter of the law. The why, beyond the what, intrigues me so."

Ah, nuance. Godfrey supposed there'd been far more to it beyond the initial inciting incident. Definitely more than he gave it credit for. He'd been aware of the subtle themes, sure. Not at the time though. Godfrey had been given nothing but time to piece together the puzzle in his head. Being forthcoming with that knowledge to them both seemed to be the intention here. An unusual way to pry. 

"It boiled down to safety. The project took priority, as you know, but I've already discussed that into an early grave. It was really you guys that made me cut myself off completely. Dr. Kyurio, Percy, and you for starters. Especially you. I refused to be responsible for someone else's misfortune simply because I planned things poorly or mishandled a portion of my investigation. Like leaving my damn bag in a museum. Your career was blooming! You deserved better than that."

Knight Man nodded, having expected this answer from appearances. Godfrey's intentions were anything but vague when it came to the two of them. It'd more so been an issue of misunderstanding his own ambitions. 

"A wise and sound decision. Your proposal locked inside the treasury, few could lay siege to it. But its deliverance came at the cost of perspective. I, sir, have always remained immune to anything and anyone other than you."

A crippling blow without the need to prime a cannon or raise a shield. Christ. The truth stung, but Godfrey kept himself engaged regardless. There'd be so much more to come and he needed to hear it. Deserved it, sure, but clearly there was a gap in his own observations. Gather the sources, investigate the material, and form an educated opinion. No, not with this. He just needed to listen. 

"Godfrey, your soul is a stained glass window. Shattered in places while letting in the sun's blessing regardless. Such as the light is refracted and transformed for the better, your unwavering dedication and hewn perspective illuminates a world so keen to belittle our rights. But sometimes, one must witness their own position from the other side of the glass. I know of you as a man of analytics. Perhaps, then, I may cast aside your worries by revealing much of which you've yet to see."

A weighty cannon, unloaded and hollow, found its way onto Godfrey's thigh as Knight Man turned to fully face him. 

"Socially, my defenses stand like the strongest of portcullis. I'm adored by several roboticists. I've essentially taken under Dr. Kyurio's formidable wings since your absence. The show too, and that popularity, paints an unwavering picture in the hearts of countless viewers. These alone soften any blow my reputation could be likely to suffer from."

Knight Man's hand joined his armament, lifting it up slightly to alleviate their notable weight. A comforting presence to show that his words were not spoken out of malice. Godfrey could, would, do nothing else but listen. 

"I'm both wounded you think so little of my physical potential, and moved beyond measure that you've sought to protect me in spite of my rather intimidating appearance. You know of my record before the war. A thousand robots have been brought to their knees in conquest and yet I continue on unscathed. My loss to Rock was well deserved and an exception. Aside from those within Dr. Light's family, very few could pose a significant threat to me. I assure you that even those who possess the means lack the want."

Knight Man's voice took on a smiling lilt. It served to be a wholesome spark of joy in an otherwise formal and pointed explanation.

"We're a magnanimous lot. So this leaves a solitary threat: you. My liege. The one soul I trust to hold such a wicked blade to my processor. Toil on as you surely will with that fact, but know this. You're nothing more than a fly to a horse's ass for my career. But of the heart? I've pledged my arms long ago."

Godfrey did, initially, struggle with accepting the objective facts presented as Knight Man finished his speech. But there truthfully couldn't be much to dispute. It all made sense. Surprisingly little to question, despite his racing mind. Such an obnoxious blend of shame and hope that left Godfrey wanting to gag. He gently gripped the rim of the cannon, lifting it with Knight Man's help to both assess its weight along with distract the urge to fidget as he conceded. 

"It's a bit of a rough ride, hearing it like that, but thank you. I'd hoped that nothing would come up. Not to say that I was expecting it to, but that'd be a lie. You know what I mean."

He trailed off, dwelling on just what'd been admitted with the prior admission. Knight Man never lacked in impact. Yet, none of this seemed new. Perhaps Godfrey knew Knight Man's unique flavor of trust extended this far. But to that extent? No one could have predicted it. Or, more likely, only Godfrey couldn't predict it. The situation still warmed him just the same; to hear that their mutual proximity came with such a caviler sense of faith. They'd both suspected it. Hell, it'd never been in question since their first interaction. After all, Godfrey would've easily drowned if he'd never been reeled in by Knight Man. Life on the line for a whim and a shield. 

The foundation of their friendship inspired by a simple "On you word, sir". 

But Godfrey couldn't be the only one with concerns. While he'd harbored a few stray thoughts in the past few hours, those could be addressed after Knight Man asked his piece. Much of the groundwork still needed to be established and neither of them would be doing this dance alone. Takes two to tango or, in this case, interview. Godfrey wondered if Knight Man would find that comparison as amusing as he did. 

"So how about yourself? Anything you'd like to ask? You've been dwelling on this for more than half a year now."

He was answered with a solemn nod. Not melancholic, more so just in deep thought. The processing time for a Robot Master couldn't be rivaled even by the beefiest supercomputers stashed away across the globe. For Knight Man to be left pondering the circumstances, then this wasn't just an issue of recollection. There'd be no rushing this and Godfrey could think of nowhere else he'd rather be. So he drummed a little ditty on the now re-lowered cannon as minute stretched on. Only a drop in the bucket of repaying the unending well of patience Knight Man bucketed out before today. Godfrey didn't mind the debt. If everything went well, they'd have years together to pay it off. 

Knight Man's return to form was unannounced and flanked with a steeled sense of purpose. Informative while serving as nothing more than a lead-in. 

"Bear with me sir, twas lost in an assessment. I've found it necessary to challenge my own standing. To capitalize off your own faults before your opponent is to ensure success: a mindset idealized by one of my former creators. Cancer ravaged him before my fall from grace. A small mercy. Not the point, a long distance from the matter besides."

"No one worth a damn holds that against you."

"Once again not the point. Godfrey, I'd shower you in the ballads of an entire kingdom of lovesick footmen if need be. Twas poorly dictated to me by old courtship traditions, before you inevitably comment on the matter. But my own aspirations matter not in the face of the circumstances. You serve under no lordship and live in a keep of your own design. I've only a single question: am I enough in comparison to the future awaiting you, as foreign and unfamiliar as I surely may be?"

He laughed in response. Honest to whatever robotic overlords listened into their conversations, Godfrey blew enough air out of his nose to clear his running sinuses. Of course. Of course! The one matter keeping Knight Man so preoccupied was the single story he'd never even remotely deemed necessary to cover. Why would he? Scrambling up to find something to wipe his face with required leaving a confused Knight Man behind. The Robot Master kept most of his reaction to himself, but the slight squint of digitized eyes told enough. A honed gleam piercing through the gap of the helmet traced each moving outline. 

Godfrey, when he could breathe through his nose without making a mess, returned to the couch with a smiling apology and an explanation. It'd not been done to be disrespectful. The apology was duly noted. Everything afterwards, however, had Knight Man hanging onto every word. Understandably so too. Seemed that Godfrey wasn't the only one so painfully limited in perspective. 

"There's a lot I've overthought about myself. Hell, even about us. The extent of what a friendship actually means, how much longing for conversation was to be considered normal, and whether or not my want to have you in my life was strictly platonic. But I'd never once questioned anything associated with who you are. What you are, even."

With a flippant finger pointed at the stack of printed messages still lingering on the adjacent coffee table, Godfrey continued on. It only made sense that Knight Man saw the problem before them as strictly a difference between standings. Socially, physically, and everything in-between. 

"Think about this: I'd done nothing but interview Robot Masters and their human partners, write about their relationships, and edit down to the minute detail their honest to god feelings. If I had any doubts on their compatibility, they've been obliterated by now. What I thought then has only grown since. I've been with men before and to be brutally honest, I don't see how you're any different. You've got your own ambitions, little ticks, and triggers. Perhaps just a tad heavier than what I usually go for though~"

He reached forward and slapped a hand against Knight Man's leg nubs. The notable flinch in light from Godfrey's unwavering gaze a victory in itself. Not everything needed to be questionable. He needed Knight Man to see that conviction. 

"Yes, I know you also mean physically. No, I don't understand your anatomy. No, I don't care because yes, I know Elec Man figured all that out five generations before you."

That elicited far more of a flinch, leaving Knight Man completely wide-eyed at the insinuation presented. So posh, so gallant, and yet so squeamish.

"Oh hush, I've got eyes. No need to be all prudish when I know you were looking at something you lack the mouth to cash. Again, not a problem. All that matters is that I hadn't been lying in that studio lot. You're it for whatever my future will end up being. Besides, I think figuring out a few anatomical differences will be so much easier than a dip in the pond. Don't you agree?"

Reeling in his shock took a few moments, but it resulted in the unfortunate side effect of his LCD's fizzling out in an onslaught of static. Perhaps Godfrey came in a bit heavy handed. Something needed to be done about Knight Man's unusual sense of self-doubt and if Godfrey had to beat it out of the Robot Master with a truth shaped cudgel, he'd do so. They'd spent so much time figuring themselves out. Their past, the present, and their future. What could be gained from hesitating now? If things crumbled, one way or another, at least it'd not be from their own inability to be honest with themselves. 

Godfrey never saw Knight Man as anything other than Knight Man. A man, of the robotic variety perhaps, but a man just the same. Some minor anatomical issues that apparently could be remedied by a part-savvy mechanic weren't worth blockading a future they'd both inadvertently fought so hard for. As for the social aspect? Godfrey already spent two of his presumed nine lives battling the public's inability to acknowledge robot rights. He considered himself more apt for the task than most. A bit of a silly thing to dwell on. At least Knight Man revealed the proper reasoning behind the indecision immediately afterwards. Good to know it wasn't for a lack of self-worth as the confession carried out from Knight Man's helmet. 

"This may come as a surprise to you, but I'd never had a human suitor. I, err, felt it a necessary precaution to avoid researching the culture behind it. Given your goal with the project and all. Straying too close to the source seemed dangerous at the time."

Absolute bull, but Godfrey wasn't going to call him out on it. It was wholesome to think that everything Knight Man knew of dating came from the "source material" he and his creators drew so much inspiration from. Or the inevitable word of mouth that came from living in as large and eclectic of a family most of the Robot Masters were part of. There was an active and thriving underground dating scene just beyond the public's gaze that these Alpha and Beta bots were living to their fullest in. Godfrey did his best to assuage that lack of experience. 

"It's really not that complicated. We've been doing the basics already, sans the courting. All you need to know for now is that you should never hesitate to ask questions. I know you're not shy about talking."

"True enough."

Which lead him to his next question. Godfrey already knew the answer. Despite that though, it needed to be asked regardless. It'd be a poor show of communication and a blatant violation of the advice he'd just given. So he sat up, smoothed out his rumpled pant legs, and put it out there. Blatantly nonchalant. They'd already crossed the first significant hurdle. Or second, if they were to count the initial confession. All things considered, this had been accomplished in far less violent of a fashion.

"And how about me? Am I enough?"

The answer was immediate. Nary a single moment to contemplate any serious veins in his own jokingly asked question.

"Indecision isn't a core tenant of my programming. So sorry to disappoint. Would you be so kind as to let me make up for such a flagrant transgression?"

Knight Man, lifting an arm up, freed the space beside him on the couch. An inviting offer perfect for a tired human shaped body to slot into. His body really did ache, and the approaching nausea and sleepiness of the meds continued to build. Godfrey fired out another question as he made his way against a thankfully warm chassis. He'd always thought Robot Masters would be freezing. The energy required alone to move Knight Man must generate welcoming levels of heat. Good~

"But of course. Such a shame too. Since we're touching on these hard hitting pieces, what about this?"

Godfrey tapped on the depression left behind in the bathrobe from the missing arm and chunk of shoulder. He knew some folk never took too kindly to those with missing limbs. An unfortunate state of affairs, one that he knew Knight Man never expressed any issues with, but communication was key regardless. His remark was met in equal measure by Knight Man detaching the cannon he had for a left hand. It crashed into the floor with an impact louder than twenty of Godfrey's own prosthetic arm.

"Point taken."

The thought of contemplating the situation further materialized, sure, but it died underneath the rising yawn overtaking Godfrey's chest. There really wasn't much use in belaboring the point. Things would come as needed. They'd yet to confirm anything specific other than their mutual interest. For some, that'd be seen as a waste of time, But Godfrey and Knight Man were seemingly never known to take things at a proper pace. Whether it would continue on as an unaddressed change or not was entirely up to their own whims. A pace set on a moment to moment basis. For now? All that entailed was a steam-heated press against a metal side. While, of course, Knight Man toyed around with the TV's remote access settings via his HUD.

Show off. 

The televised footage of the live contest earlier in the evening began to play. Both of them sat upright, Godfrey leaning into the underside of Knight Man's arm, as they watched and waited to see the same moment both longed for. Heralded by the surprisingly attractive destruction of the garbage bot. The competition kept backups of the competitor's AI chips and cores anyway so indulging in a little bloodshed wasn't followed by remorse. A devious idea came to Godfrey's now medicine-addled brain. 

"I'm gonna have to start attending more of your live shows if we do this. You know that, right?"

Knight Man's gaze shot down to Godfrey's slippers, kicking about in a soft sway. The surrounding memorabilia didn't help matters much either. He'd converted Godfrey into an avid fan of the show. A relationship would only spiral that hobby into a borderline obsession. How could someone not attend if their partner, boyfriend, or whatever the hell they may end up being played such an integral part? Standing there, stoically posing just for the hell of it. Occasionally battering a stray bot senseless. Like a territorial cat with spiked clubs for claws. But they both knew that neither of them would mind it much. Or in Knight Man's case, not at all. Hell, that'd probably just be an excuse to amp up the regalia. Whatever that may entail. 

Knight Man, with that tinny snicker new to Godfrey and yet so beautifully perfect, hunched his head low to catch Godfrey's peripheral. His arm remained atop the couch backing in a comfortable position even for someone weighing quite so much. Seemed that someone found this whole process hilarious. Be it from the joy of living out the little fantasies he's only read about, or because Godfrey made for an excellent target. Only Knight Man knew. When he eventually disclosed part of what he'd been thinking, it certainly wasn't with something helpful to steady Godfrey's unhealthy blend of a racing heart and a sluggish mind. 

"A knight serves his liege, plain and true. To fight not only for the audience, but those beneath the same banner as I? Why I'd say there's glory in that to be had. Your wallet is weeping at the prospect though."

Godfrey remained conscious long enough to murmur out something indecipherable about just sneaking in again, before even he lost track of what was. Or wasn't. In truth, when pressed so close against the slightly steaming and enticing warm thermos Knight Man proved to be, it'd become excruciatingly difficult to stay in the present. The void encroached once again but there'd be no reason to fight it. Not this time. He'd wake up alone, probably tucked in with a folded blanket on his couch. A succinct well-wish and a knight emoji no doubt waiting on his phone. Then they'd run through the same motions. Texts throughout breakfast, a call during lunch or whenever Knight Man found a few moments to spare, and a productive dinner of drying himself off while idly chatting away with the tv blaring in the background.

Although if Godfrey had his way, he wouldn't be spending the nights alone much longer. 

-/-/-

Right Man: Sleep well, my liege. 

Right Man: Oh! And I apologize if, in my haste, I've overstepped any well-established boundaries. Sir feels woefully inadequate now. 

Right Man: ♞♞♞

Me: Morning. Ur fine. Im sure th pcing will cm 2 us.

Me: Enjy the gft

Knight Man: Yes, a fine morning to you too! I see you've finally come to your senses.

Me: Well nw that u mention it, I shd fx that bck. My b

Knife Man: Why

-/-/-

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Me: U owe me nther shovel

Bliz: Aww, c'mon! That's not fair. You know I can't help it.

Bliz: 😔

Me: Dnt care. Gtta sve money now

Me: Shovels r NOT cheap

Me: Ur makng life hrdr >:(

Bliz: Fiiine. What are you saving up for btb? It's pretty hard to imagine you buying something. 

Me: Othr than shovls?

Bliz: Other than shovels.

Me: Armor polish

Bliz: OOOOH, I seeeee~

Me: Dnt you start

Bliz: Hehehe

-/-/-

The sound of concrete scraping along the bottom of his shovel accompanied Godfrey's thoughts. A grating melody born of repetitive and wonderfully unfamiliar thoughts. Another day tacked onto the calendar, another morning spent enjoying the subtle joys of his new dynamic. Much of what he dwelled on now came with a refreshing theme of uncertainty. Not full of anxiety or caution. Just the inability to predict what came next. Unlike the snow he barreled through and the paths he fruitlessly salted, his afternoons felt far more promising. So Godfrey held tight to the sensation as he finished up the final pathway to a neighbor's porch. 

December's weather for this first week alone kept him far busier than any of November. He couldn't blame it all on Blizzard Man this time either. An unexpected cold front guaranteed long hours of shoveling ice and snow for the elderly tenants. The recent preemptive school closures helped take care of some of the excess buildup littering the sidewalks and streets. Snow fights aplenty. Thankfully very few were willing to drive on the streets. Not for a lack of trying on their part, but Blizzard Man didn't take too well to reckless drivers in areas full of children playing out and about. His reputation as an abominable snowman was well earned. Looked and played the part when needed. 

Plus the kids loved it. Probably where Blizzard Man wandered off to, Godfrey thought, as he shoved the snow away from a frigid rocking chair with his gloves. The occasional buzz of his phone reminded him all too frequently why he'd been so wonderswept as of late. Knight Man made for a ravenous conversationalist. Now that they'd started approaching a relationship, Godfrey had been inundated with even more questions than usual. At random moments he'd just shoot off an endearing inquiry. Truth be told, Godfrey wouldn't be surprised if Knight Man saved a massive text log somewhere just full of all this miscellaneous information. 

Things were still only starting for them both so Godfrey did his best to encourage the behavior. Some of the questions though, like the one awaiting his frigid digits uselessly tapping away at his phone, made him laugh if nothing else. 

"Carpet, hardwood, or linoleum? I've already claimed stonework as my answer. Predictable, perhaps, but the sound and feel remain unmatched."

Ah yes. Such a conundrum. What ever should he respond with? At the rate some of these inquiries were going, Godfrey expected Knight Man to start constructing houses. It truly just boiled down to whatever the Robot Master found himself researching or reading that day. One of his frequent pastimes other than text Godfrey just so happened to be reading. In enormous quantities. With a soft shake of his head, and an open smile firing out plumes of condensation, Godfrey tapped away his answer. Multiple times to get the spelling at least somewhat coherent given the temperature. 

"Carpet. Its nce to jst ly there next 2 a heatr"

His phone tucked back into his pocket, and his gloves secured on his hands, Godfrey heaved himself up with a grunt. Typically they regrouped at the end of the morning, chatted a bit, and parted until the next snow day (inevitably tomorrow). But it wasn't hard to notice the Blizzard Man shaped absence beside him. Looked to be that the Robot Master needed to be rescued from the fate of his own making. Probably encased in another snow mound again. The kids liked to climb about and slide down the gentle slopes he'd create, which fortunately included himself. Unfortunate for Godfrey though as he always was the one to dig the bastard out. 

-/-/-

-INCOMING MESSAGE-
FROM:「 SATURN KYURIO, UNITY SHELTER 」

Saturn Kyurio: So sorry I missed your call! Inquiries about our current availabilities are best left to the front desk, but Im sure I can help you with anything else. 

Me: Hey. Ths is Godfrey

Saturn Kyurio: Oh hi! God, its been a while since Ive heard about you! How are you doing?

Me: Doing grt

Me: Jst had a qstn 4 u

Saturn Kyurio: Uh. We cant talk about that here. 

Me: Naw. This is about u and ur boo

Saturn Kyurio: Sure thing then! What would you like to know? Im sure you've heard all about how we met already. 

Me: How did u get another chassis mde 4 him?

Saturn Kyurio: Like in case of damage? Watt isnt really in active service. 

Me: No

Me: Theyre made of metal Saturn. Id be crushed

Saturn Kyurio: OH SHIT

Saturn Kyurio: Really?!?!? Congrats! What happened?

Me: Answers 1st

Saturn Kyurio: Okay, okay! I get it.

Saturn Kyurio: Gimme a few days and Ill get put together some info for you! We've got some basic pamphlets at the shelter as well, plus Im sure Elec would looooooove to give you some answers. 

Me: Do wht u gotta do. Thx

Saturn Kyurio: Of course! Oh my dad is going to be so happy.

Me: About tht

-/-/-

Well that's incredibly frustrating. No matter how much Godfrey toiled away at this little corner, it kept popping back up! He'd tried wetting it, heavy weights, and even an iron at one point (he really did need to return that to his landlord, thinking about it). Yet this end bit of the padded rug continued to stand up. He snagged it on the coffee table once. Once! At this point there might as well be little furniture Mets that kept fighting him tooth and nail to keep this as bothersome as robotically possible. Eh, whatever then. Godfrey wouldn't be winning this bout. It was only him that cared about it too. Knight Man paid it no mind in the evenings. 

Godfrey traced along the brickwork themed stitches that partially made up this medieval rug. A new addition but already well loved by a particular someone. Soft, very plush, and designed to reduce scratching, it'd been Knight Man's little rest area since they both started their nightly ritual. He'd arrive just shy of dinner, knock at the door, and await permission to enter. They'd then talk about their days while stripping Knight Man of his heavier components. He wasn't modular by any means. Something needed to be done about the weight in a more casual setting though so this was their solution. Made things so much easier for their time on the couch together. 

Knight Man absolutely thrived under the personal attention. Said it reminded him of royal knights dearming as depicted in a few famous paintings he kept saved in his databanks. Safe in his liege's keep. So they'd mingle, snuggle in with some branded blankets Knight Man probably stole from the film site, and flit through the broadcast providers. Robot Wars wasn't the only show they both enjoyed. A lot of Crime Thrillers showed up in their "To Watch" library as of late. Both on official and illegitimate channels. They'd only started searching for shows about four days ago and already they racked up twenty recommendations. Neither of them had any complaints.

It made for a good brain teaser as they polished bits and pieces of midnight colored metal. Rehashing their conversations from throughout the day came naturally to them. Only so much could be imparted in text and Knight Man was nothing if not a Robot Master of many words. As for Godfrey? Well, he just enjoyed listening. Having someone willingly dispense so much information without the expectation of analysis. To simply say things because of the desire to share. It was a luxury and one Knight Man drowned them both in consistently. Back when Godfrey served as a reporter, he couldn't tolerate a conversation without an express purpose. Even idle chatter came with a motive. 

How times have changed. 

Pushing himself off the floor, Godfrey took a moment to steady his aching body. Ouch. The well-kept carpet always clashed violently with his unsurprisingly unkept knees. But he had places to go. Loitering around in pain would accomplish absolutely nothing while the cold awaited him outside. He snatched the grocery list off the adjacent coffee table giving it a once over, before tucking it away alongside his phone. They were only really needing a few things for tonight's dinner. Knight Man's diet remained elusive to Godfrey but to hell with it. He was going to make something delicious. Some Robot Masters could eat human food, others could not, and there was this unfortunate mix of those who shouldn't but did so anyway.

Knight Man, being the adorably brave fellow that he was, thought himself the adventurous type when he was younger. Relatively. He'd tried human food once: surstromming, as suggested by a demented coworker at his original arena before the hostile takeover. So it was no wonder that Knight Man maintained a policy of avoidance since. Godfrey loved to eat more than he loved to cook. But for Knight Man's sake, he'd stop himself from sampling the dish repeatedly until after Knight Man tasted his share. That required something Godfrey typically didn't keep stocked even on the best of days. Ingredients! Why would he? Cooking for one was a rather lonely affair. The last two weeks provided ample opportunities to break that mold. 

Besides, he needed something pleasant to brace himself for the upcoming Friday. 

Keys in hand, and the front door locked behind him, Godfrey set out towards his running car. His head repeated the list of what came next on a loop. Repeatedly and without end. Groceries, texts, cooking, cuddles, and then the offer. Simple, really, in concept. But things were never quite so easy. For Godfrey was going to willingly tag along with Knight Man to the next live filming of Robot Wars. Not disguised as an employee, or slipping through the crowd as just a passive participant. Nope. Ref Bots weren't to be involved in the challenges facing the contestants that day. He'd been inviting Knight Man to attend as a guest. 

And Godfrey was going to be there, in the view of the public, as his plus one. Subject to literal digitized heart eyes and all. Godfrey wasn't one to pray and his relationship with hope was well known by most he spoke with to be tumultuous at best. But by whatever human, robotic, or transcendent beings reigned above, he'd beg on his hands and knees for the outing to go well for Knight Man. Godfrey just needed one damn person he cared about to be safe from the public's ire. Just one. 

-/-/-

Me: Ur lucky tht ur cute

Knife Man: I regret nothing, my liege. It's my sworn duty to protect your honor and integrity.

Me: At a grcry stor?

Me: Grocery store

Knife Man: What knave would I be to let such outlandish prices speak ill of you? 

Me: U wrnt even supposd to b there big guy

Me: They wr jst oranges

Knife Man: Fifteen dollars! Madness, I say. No wonder you engage in piracy for our shows. You've been robbed by corporate highwaymen!

Me: Tru. Ur right

Knife Man: I reign victorious! I'd peddle my shield for a bet that you're smiling now. 

Me: U hv no proof

-/-/-

"Why don't you just wear the shirt? You know, the one with you on it?"

From behind a set of stacked metal crates, stamped and plastered with labels and codes, Knight Man belted out a reply. Preoccupied with donning the clothing he had custom made for their evening out together. The fact that it was stored in his "dressing room" implied someone within the film site already knew of their flourishing relationship. A special outfit wasn't part of Godfrey's bingo card this night but hey! Knight Man's excitement over whatever he struggled with back there implied only good things. Hopefully. Godfrey's idea of a special outfit typically didn't serve too terribly well for public view. Only so many would appreciate the bathrobe for what it represented.

"Nay! Tis a design I'm most fond of, as you surely will be too once you witness it!"

Another crash of something getting absolutely punting by Knight Man's oppressive weight later, and Godfrey bid farewell to the corner they'd crammed themselves in. The Robot Master needed privacy to maintain the surprise. Besides, the room Godfrey had been lead to an hour before the location starting filming was actually adorable. Not an ounce of sarcasm or irony crossed his mind as he walked about taking in the sights. Far from something Godfrey would've expected for a dressing room. Exactly at home for who and what Knight Man was though. If anything, expecting something different would be lunacy. 

It'd been designed like a European castle's armory. Thin wallpaper, taped rather poorly, lined the presumably concrete walls and columns surrounding him. No wonder Knight Man loved the rug so much! The patterns were almost identical in nature. These depicted slightly cheesy stonework and fake barred windows. In juxtaposition to the general cheapness of the paper, legitimate medieval weapon racks sat in assorted areas. Even from this distance Godfrey could tell they'd been made of a fine wood reinforced by metal. Made sense given that they weren't weighed down with blades, but instead armor.

So much armor. Spare plates, pauldrons, neck guards, fragmented sections of gauntlets, boots, knee covers, and helmets. Godfrey counted at least three helmets. All identical with an equal level of polish and care. In a way it made sense. Nigh impenetrable armor required constant maintenance after each battle. Not all the competitors were complete pushovers. Instead of having the Robot Master removed to have the damage be repaired in house, they instead swap the components with a fresh duplicate and shipped the chunks out elsewhere. They probably did that a fair bit given just intricate some of the designs of the bots there were.

One of the helmets, resting atop a worn spiked ball with a snapped chain, caught Godfrey's eye for no other reason than humorous curiosity. He'd always wondered what it would feel like to wear it. Seldom did Knight Man ever remove it himself. When he did, it was typically when Godfrey slept or napped. There was an unaddressed insecurity at work there that they'd get to in time. But for now, this was enough. He'd seen a portion of the inside anyway. The close proximity of a hug, something Godfrey made sure to let Knight Man indulge in, made looking elsewhere impossible. He liked what he saw even if it wasn't exactly natural. Even by humanoid standards. 

It took Godfrey a considerable amount of effort to lift the helmet up and onto his head. Requiring both of his hands to keep it raised just slightly off his scalp, it ran the risk of utterly compressing his spine. At least he had a better chance than most of surviving something like that. His wobbling arm told him that enough was enough and he set the helmet aside. The heavy thunk of its impact on an adjacent rack surprised him despite having held it himself. Damn. Perhaps they may need to really look into getting another chassis put together. Or whatever solutions Saturn and his contacts had in mind. 

A standing armor station sat partially built next to a small glass desk. While the mechanisms required to suspend Knight Man off the ground interested Godfrey, it was the furniture beside it that held his attention. The only portion of this entire room to feel out of place. No theming and he highly doubted glass was a safe choice for a Robot Master so cumbersome. A quick look behind him towards the entrance spoke volumes of its positioning. It was tucked away purposefully out of sight. Curious. Very curious. He'd nothing else to do and Knight Man did tell him to look around when they'd first arrived. 

One large tablet, a few external hard drives, and what looked to be a label printer made up the bulk of the clutter atop it. Alongside those, however, sat a unique picture frame. It'd been made to look like a rolled out swath of parchment held upright at an angle. Cute and very much so in theme. Godfrey needed to find this mythical supplier of medieval styled furniture for his own uses. Knight Man would love that. Wouldn't make a dent in the endless praise he had for Godfrey's couch but a minor victory was still a victory. It was then he noticed the picture inside. 

At first glance, a few things came to Godfrey beside the obvious. Ignoring the obvious. This wasn't a photograph more so as it was a still. A very small difference that typically bled out in regards to quality. A single frame of a recording saved and printed. Must've been put in the case sometime recently too. The excess glass white backing and glass around it showed bent edges and a slight fraying to the paper. Printed, not developed. Something about the nature of this incensed Knight Man to print it as soon as he had access to any means and not a moment later. 

The urge to analyze it further died down as he recognized what he was doing. He needed to address the photo itself. So he did. It was him. Hair buzzed, wearing a disheveled tanktop, and with horrible bags under his eyes. Christ. He really should've slept more back then. And ate. And, well, a lot of things in hindsight. It must've been at the park too. The downward angle showed him cross-legged in the grass. Knight Man's damaged gauntleted fist held atop his thigh as Godfrey tucked individual wires back into its white casing. Such a specific moment to capture. A snippet of their interview together, he realized. He would've asked why. But he knew.

It was so painfully obvious. 

It'd been his face. Teeth grit together behind his closed mouth and furrowed eyebrows aside, he fit the description of unspoken dedication to a tee. His eyes were aching in the picture. Wounded at the sight of Knight Man's injury but doing everything in his power to mend what he could. Most of the pictures sourced from his time at the park (brought about by the media during his impromptu exile) carried a look of stoicism. Straight faced and empty. Devoid of anything to be used against him. But here? It was soft. Open with each ounce of reason and emotion that crossed his brain. Knight Man knew exactly what Godfrey was feeling. So evident in this still alone. 

If his unquestioning faith was any indication, Godfrey must've never hid himself before Knight Man. Unknowingly left so vulnerable. A hazard to most, a gift to the one individual kind enough to treasure it. How could Knight Man just bear with that knowledge? Wanting someone and, in a way apparent to only him, being aware that the man he desired wished the same. Godfrey's inability to recognize his own emotional state surely tried the Robot Master's patience to its very limit. Yet he maintained his course regardless. Happy to always play the role of the loyal knight in service of a described greater cause. 

So much of what Godfrey learned about his Knight Man made the situation a thousandfold worse. The damned idiot who unsurprisingly loved team sports and hockey courtesy of Blizzard Man just so happened to undervalue his own role in a group. In the duo they'd been since the start. Delivering a dwarf spruce tree to Godfrey's patio instead of flowers because it was all he knew. What he adored. He couldn't care a single molecule about the effort required. The urge to do something, anything, left Godfrey's hands shaking. Violent tremors from a source so far removed from anxiety. Godfrey'd been so hesitant to push Knight Man past his comfort zone.

Knight Man, in an ironic twist, was doing the same. No longer

So when Knight Man stepped out from behind the crates with a proud glint in his eyes, Godfrey didn't hesitate. Some initiative needed to be taken. He never could truly pay his dues, but he would certainly give this beautiful soul something worth fighting for. Plus Godfrey could only really keep to himself for so long. Ambitions last seen in relationships prior to the first war returned in full force after their first night on the couch together. Modesty needed to be checked at the door along with his coat. 

"My liege, what do you think of-"

Knight Man's helmet, lifted with strength that'd leave Godfrey sore later, clattered against the crates with a loud crash. Crimson lights blew wide before clenching shut to withhold overloading the sensors. Godfrey continued forward in this perfectly offered opportunity before him. Leading them both against the tallest stack of parts. Trapping the Robot Master there with a presence unseen anywhere else. Synthetic and natural hands both explored the surface normally hidden from Godfrey for so long now. 

"Well, now. Look at you~"

A window mannequin. That was Godfrey's first thought as he took in the starkly black features of Knight Man's face. Elegantly smoothed out, only the lightest of impressions outline where the mouth and nose would normally be. No ears, no wires, and certainly no cables. The lack of speakers meant the hardware was all internal. Godfrey let his thumb graze one of the deactivated LCD screens and jolted at the heat. Blisteringly warm. That momentary flareup was enough to damn near melt the internal lens casing, it seemed. Beneath the solid duraplastic shell of Knight Man's head thrummed the endlessly complicated machinery that kept him running. 

His heartbeat more the constant roaring of an engine. Fitting for such a warrior of the heart. 

Godfrey could feel the faint vibrations intensify, warming every component, as he continued to slide his hands along each minute defining feature. It clashed starkly with Knight Man's outward appearance. A game of diminutive details instead of garish regalia. In a way, Godfrey thought he enjoyed this so much more. It was only natural for a once self-defined investigative journalist to find a thrill in the search. Knight Man's gauntlet clutched at the loose fabric of Godfrey's dress shirt. Untucking it with the slightest of motions. seemed that their excitement was mutual. With his prosthetic hand cradling the back of Knight Man's head, he leaned forward.

Relishing the moment his lips pressed against the warmth of the shell. Oh so softly. Just a tease, of course. For now. He'd only been given a moment to hold it. A few seconds at most, but that was enough for the building pressure inside Knight Man's internal systems to blare out a warning. 

"SYSTEM ALERT - IRREGULAR TEMPERATURE SPIKE. VENT IMMEDIATELY"

He stepped back quickly enough, with Knight Man's hurried assistance, to watch the sudden burst of steam burst between the numerous plates. Violent, cathartic, and dredging up a predatory feeling tucked deep away within Godfrey's gut. Knowing he caused this. Not from an argument, not from outrage or even the glory of battle. A single unreturned kiss. Marvelous. Knight Man's eyes hesitantly flickered back on. Dimmed to the lowest setting and fizzling out, sure, but at least there were on. Godfrey did nothing to hide just how much he enjoyed their little moment together. It took them both a minute (really only one of them, if they were to be honest) to collect their bearings.

"Oh dear. My apologies, I-uh. So. Well, I was saying, I think, that you might like this? Not that. I mean, certainly that, but this."

Knight Man's loss of decorum made the subsequent reveal of his attire rather rushed, but he tried regardless. He'd donned a tunic overlay which was strapped atop his central core and the yellow inner lining of his chestplate. Cloth held no place in combat for Robot Masters so its use was purely decorative. A way for a knight to display their loyalty and unwavering dedication to their lordship. What it depicted though left Godfrey with no other option but to return back to what he'd started. Ignoring all distractions in favor of rewarding his most loyal of knights. As any proper lord would. 

Ignoring the tumbling crates as they both fell to the floor, ignoring the wandering technician who stopped by to investigate the noise only to hastily retreat once opening the door, and ignoring the slight burns from the occasional bouts of steam. Even ignoring the quickly untied and discarded tunic overlay depicting the foundation of their union. A symbol for great things to come. Now, and then later. 

A closed fist rising above the water. 

-/-/-

Old Man: My son wants to speak with you this weekend, so don't be alarmed by his sudden visit. Didn't think you'd mind so I went ahead and gave him your address.

Me: Its fine. Y?

Old Man: Some business best left for another's company. I'm sure you understand.  

Me: Good t hear

Me: Ws waitng fr him 2 gt bck 2 me abbout this

Old Man: I wasn't aware you've spoken with him recently. 

Me: Huh

Me: Whats ths about?

Old Man: Not my place to tell you, I'm afraid. Do stay warm though! 

Me: The cold wl be gd 4 thse burns

Old Man: Burns?

-/-/-

Chapter Text

"Tis nothing more than a flesh wound, my liege. It'll heal in time."

True enough, Godfrey thought. Snagging his thigh on a bit of jagged metal last night left quite the nasty scratch. But that's all it was: a scratch. It hadn't been significant enough to wake him up then, and it certainly wasn't worth dressing now. Surface level at worst. However, Godfrey wouldn't be telling Knight Man to stop his doting. He doubted that either of them would even oblige the request anyway. His partner, boyfriend, or whatever term they'd decide on later enjoyed the feel of human skin. Apparently a world of a difference from leather. No point begrudging the comparison if it meant more personal attention down the pipeline. 

Ample opportunity to tease though~

"It still feels a little iffy. Maybe take a closer look?"

With a purposeful smile, Godfrey shifted his position on the couch and spread his legs further apart. He'd first sat there to give Knight Man access to the cut on his inner thigh. But now, with plenty of time on their hands and an equal amount of interest, a few other things came to mind. Most of the burns from Friday healed thanks to the salve Knight Man sourced from less than surprised Flame Man. How he broached that topic was anyone's guess given just how prudish Knight Man was in the company of others. His now mended body caught up to the same line of thinking. Once again, the wonders of wearing bathrobes and damn near nothing else would play out perfectly.

But by the time Knight Man took the hint, they both shot upright at the sudden knock at Godfrey's front door. Damn it. He couldn't have a Sunday morning romp in peace. They'd yet to even eat breakfast! But in hindsight, Dr. Kyurio had warned them both beforehand that Saturn would be arriving. Not at such a specific window of time though. Godfrey gave an apologetic kiss atop Knight Man's exposed forehead, swatted the exploratory gauntlet away, and stood up on still tingly legs. His bathrobe needed to be tied but nothing else mattered in regards to how he presented himself. No point in scouring the bedroom for his arm either. Knight Man had made it quite apparent that Godfrey would be brought into the Kyurio household one way or another. Saturn best get used to this now.

"Go fetch your helmet, big guy, I think Saturn's here."

And Godfrey needed to adjust to what that'd entail, too. Of course. 

- - -

Well then.

That'd been, well, something. Not even a proper conversation. A bit of a shame, really. 

Howling wind, unending snowfall, and the stark contrast in layers of clothing all led to Godfrey barely understanding a damn word of whatever Saturn briefly told him. A hasty introduction followed immediately afterwards by pushing an awkwardly covered guest past them both and inside Godfrey's apartment. That and a stuffed binder of information for Godfrey's "questions". Then Saturn just up and left in a hurry with a mention about a date at a frozen lake. Godfrey guessed the younger man wasn't used to the harsh weather. Or, perhaps, Magnet Man wasn't. The chill certainly wasn't pleasant but surely it hadn't been that bad. Eh. Nothing he could do about it now. 

He put an end to that concern with the shutting of his door. Throwing his current robe into the basket, as it was more white than black now, Godfrey went to don the nearby replacement. Thankfully the couch kept his lower half isolated enough from wherever the guest was to prevent them getting an eyeful. From one matter of business to another. Now he needed to figure out just who the hell Saturn escorted here. Godfrey made sure to tuck away the binder somewhere dry. He and Knight Man needed to flip through that later. Not all of their questions were exactly appropriate for asking most people. The unique nature of their circumstances aside, few would even know where to begin with the Robot Master's design. Internal hydraulics and motors powered an absolute beast of a machine. 

They'd been designed to amplify their output in combat in exchange for producing heat; but of course his creators never factored in other means of excitement in the equation. Best case scenario boiled down to vented steam. The worst case scenario, however? Melted components from extended periods or sudden flashes. They needed something built and soon. The weight still remained a concern but at least they'd found a few ways to remedy it. His initial mannequin comparison became far more apt as they explored removing the rest of the plating. Distinguishing just what could and could not be taken apart made for an interesting Saturday afternoon. When they could stay focused at least. 

Godfrey turned his attention back to the living room proper. Knight Man was gesturing, rather excitedly, for their mysterious visitor to try out the couch. While he would've loved to make a joke about that utter fixation on their furniture, Godfrey instead began piecing together the puzzle before him. Their guest's coat, much thinner than Saturn's, looked to be in impeccable condition. A notable brand too. What he'd initially mistaken as winter gloves were instead a design component. Too uniform and formfitting for something worn over skin. Few donned such a distinct red either. They stood a foot shorter than Godfrey and even more so for Knight Man. This "Stranger" refused to say a word or face him. Purposeful. Something here felt amiss.

Since when was Elec Man ever so quaint?

That didn't bode well. While Godfrey wasn't even remotely sure what he could provide as help goes, he'd do what he could. At the apparent behest of Dr. Kyurio and his son especially. Only one possible avenue came to mind. The worst of the potential options, and the one they knew would eventually arrive. Well this wasn't the first time Godfrey'd dealt with targeted hate crimes. Hell or high water, Elec Man would be safe here. The infectiously jovial attitude Knight Man exuded on even the worst of days died almost immediately after he spotted Godfrey's frown. Something had gone wrong within the Light Family, probably in association with the proposal's hearing.

It would explain the secrecy, the rushed movements, and the jumbled timetable. Saturn's inability to stay and the use of Elec Man as the messenger didn't quite add up though. Surely they would've sent him with more if he needed a place to lay low at for a while? Only Elec Man could answer that inquiry. Godfrey reached into the basket and pulled out a mostly dry set of thermal leggings. There'd be a good chance they all needed to head out somewhere before attention ramped up. Do whatever damage control they deemed necessary and stockpile a few supplies. Solving these problems came natural. Whether or not it could be within Elec Man's wheelhouse remained to be seen. 

With a grunt, Godfrey stumbled his way over while yanking the pants on. Ridiculous, sure, but it indicated to Knight Man that he'd best do the same. He uttered out a faint "On your word, my liege" and made way for the rug holding the majority of his plating and armor. Elec Man, meanwhile, removed his coat and sat on the couch. It'd been gently balled into his lap afterwards. The forlorn look did the once confident Robot Master no favors. Gentle features uniquely native to the first generation pulled down in distress. Even the combative spirit locked behind Elec Man's blue eyes remained elusive. The black domino masked far more than just a portion of his face. 

Someone needed to say something first. Knight Man, while the observant sort, preferred to remain on the back foot until an opportunity presented itself. The shield always met his opponents first. So Godfrey approached the situation as he would any interview. All of his interactions prior with Elec Man put any useful information on the knife's edge. Lingering too long, or sometimes not enough, could kill a lead. Today would be no different. Especially so if the poor bot continued to recoil inwards from whatever the hell happened. 

"I'm sorry for the mess. We would've cleaned up a bit if we knew you were coming this early. I suppose you'll be staying on the couch in the meantime, if that's alright?

Elec Man's distressed laugh afterwards did away with their building confidence. Surely this wasn't Elec Man's first time dealing with a hate crime. Being targeted by a larger media group was far from new for any of the first generation. The inciting incident must've posed more than a social risk then. Strange, though. The lack of materials and opaque forewarning didn't add up. Godfrey couldn't get a read on just what the hell was going on here. The marginally unsettling atmosphere only amplified the distressed tone lingering Elec Man's words. Godfrey thought the term foreboding didn't quite do it justice.

"Oh quit it now, you! Always finding a way to make this difficult. What a shocker."

"Difficult, wha-"

Godfrey found himself mentally backpedaling. Confused mostly at the jagged edges aimed towards the aid in the given situation, leaving him aptly without much to say. Knight Man, seeing Godfrey fumble under the unusual pretenses, pivoted up and over. Steel in his words but with the kindest of intentions. He was a city guard inquiring with a commoner; one hand outstretched in welcome with the other resting on the edge of his scabbard. Seemed that he'd picked up on more than Godfrey. 

"We're brothers in arms, not opponents on the battlefield. You've come seeking our aid. Surely you could be frank with your request?"

Perhaps even more than that then. A glint of the blade underneath flared to the spectators and participants both. Knight Man wouldn't be tolerating disrespect if he'd detected an insidious undertone. Godfrey found that wholesome, but perhaps not the approach they needed. He pulled back an arm to rest on his partner's bulky shoulder. Knight Man would cut a path through a den of riddles if it meant accomplishing a task. Elec Man however wasn't the sort to take well to the games other played, lest they not be in his favor. Godfrey watched their interview together more than two dozen times for his assessments.

Lingering in-between the lines was a man who deflected honesty with humor. Crass playfulness to be wielded in a circus of his own making. So Godfrey charged ahead with blunt honesty. Today would not be another duel. If the situation was to be interpreted as such so far, their window to act would only narrow as they wasted time here. 

"I don't give a damn about your problems with me. Just say what you're wanting and we'll get it done. Are you safe?"

The tweak of a smile briefly made an appearance. A moment of recognition for the situation Elec Man continued to build around himself, before fading away in favor of the established norm. He sat up straight then. Not much of a change in height for someone so intentionally short. Smoothing the fabric of the coat in his lap with compulsive precision, Elec Man dwelt on a few of the errant stitches. Picking fruitlessly at them without nails. Even his retort seemed riddled with distraction. Or avoidance. 

"What I want is a warm bed far, far, far away from here. Ooh~, maybe a novella about some handsome concierge in a mysterious hotel."

The last dregs of humor drained away by the end. Elec Man's sudden stare bore holes through Godfrey's naked chest. They'd finally reached the problem at hand and yet he still couldn't muster the strength to look at either of them in the eyes. As if this was nothing more than a casual task to see to first before addressing whatever box needed ticked next. Infuriating. Yet, despite Godfrey's own thoughts, all very much so at home for the interviews he'd conducted prior. Not just with the project either. Godfrey's original interview with Elec Man held a nasty resemblance. But no sense of familiarity would soften Elec Man's next blow.

"But what I need is for the two of you to listen."

- - -

The mirror's reflection greeted him once again. Present company cast aside, Godfrey found himself lost to the past as he delved into his own assessment. What loomed next could not be addressed haphazardly. It'd undo everything he fought for regarding his own personal growth. His development, his healing, and even his own determination to plink away at a new life with Knight Man in the shadow of the accomplishments he once thought were within reach. So he let himself think. To truly analyze just what his seizing body told him. Pain stretched in one continuous motion from limbs both present and lost, his ears played back nothing but the sounds of breaking glass, but he'd withstand it all.

One last time. 

It was the hospital. A burdened mess of bandages, casts, and tubes. He'd been suspended by cables to prevent any movement as dwindling attendants came and went. Both he and the nurses were frustratingly statuesque and muted. With no family to speak of, he'd been left alone for the majority of his time recuperating. Godfrey's fragile condition deemed unfit for visitors meant the very few who could muster a damn did so from a distance. Half-assed cards mostly. But the station's general manager and public relation representatives walked through the doors of the ward regardless of whatever tape should've legally withheld them from doing so. Godfrey to this day wished they'd been hanged by it. 

They couldn't give two shits about his wellbeing. Instead they battered him with unending reprimands, concerns on political visibility, and the social backlash they could face from sending reporters out into a strictly forbidden disaster zone. This'd been far from a situation where a press vest covered all the basics required. It'd been tolerable then. Just like another day at the studio's conference room with the executives. They'd never shied away from analytics before. That'd been one of the reasons Godfrey stayed as well paid as he had been there. He covered a great deal of ground within not only his own job description, but that of others as well. The open access granted for their social media accounts was just a start of their joint collaboration. 

But the questions asked of Godfrey explained away their disallowed presence. The need for answers mounted day by day in the public eye. One surprisingly loud robot social rights advocate slain in a gruesome crash. Godfrey, a known mouthpiece for the corporations shilling out for the news, making instead a miraculous recovery despite seemingly fatal injuries. Both of which had been thrown head first into the world's worst act of global terrorism. People itched for vindication. Some, or any, explanation for another needless case of death. Their shareholders were pulling out in the face of such pressure. So it all fell to Godfrey. Them and their damn questions. Unable to take any answer but the one they desired. Not the truth. Their truth. 

Where were you after the accident?

Hobbling along to a hospital alone, or so he'd said. Godfrey told them that he'd found a destroyed ambulance and injected himself with whatever he could find. Both desperate sounding and believable enough given the sheer carnage littering the streets. The medical reports backed his claim. No mention of the Alpha Bot who actually had administered the lifesaving stimulants and other ungodly concoctions. They'd kept him upright long enough to become a splattered mess on the hospital's jampacked waiting room floor. He apparently walked straight past the medical tents in a bloodied haze. Quite the impression for the staff who expected an ounce of comprehension from him. 

You knew he was still in the van, right?

Dead in the van, yes. A van which summarily went ablaze and left negligible evidence to be found other than some miraculous fingerprints scattered about. Godfrey was in no condition to haul the corpse of another. Even if he could, why would he? Godfrey described his priority then to check Tristin's pulse and afterwards? Simply to live. As for his knowledge of the man's extensive injuries? Well they made sure to quiz him on that element too. As if being there to watch the man fade before him wasn't enough to tell Godfrey that Tristin was dying. The degree of their own expectations outweighed any sense of logical thought. 

You couldn't just leave him to die naturally, could you?

And there it began. Seeing that their renowned reporter hadn't quite suffered enough in comparison to their newest hit piece, they in turn mutually decided to paint him as the scapegoat. Ironically blaming him of murder for all the wrong reasons. That he leapt at the opportunity to enact revenge on the well-meaning activist. Godfrey would be pushed into the crosshair of the law. Sensationalism played into their favor once again. Godfrey wasn't even in a position to argue about the technicalities of the truth. The morbid sense of mercy given to Tristin would never translate well. Nor would any mention of the nurse's actions. 

Who are you protecting? Answer me!

Not a question he'd been asked that day. Despite its prominence in his mind, he'd only been asked it once. The fact the results haunted him still bore down much in the same way as the rest. Tristin's family approached him a week prior to the first hearing. It'd been a mutual decision and one sworn into secrecy. They wanted justice and Godfrey simply wished for things to end. He'd yet to harden himself to being paraded around like a burning pyre. A witch shackled and chained to the stump, legs wrapped in iron. No escape from the approaching inferno searing each inch of flesh it touched. 

So he foolishly agreed. Tristin's mother, or whatever little spirit resided left in her decrepit body, implored him to explain the situation. From the second they threw their gear into the van until the end of the public story. From there, a thousand miles still. Godfrey did his damnedest to provide the answers they sought. Some semblance of closure given the circumstances. In the face of so much pain, his own felt minuscule by comparison. An entire family of aching wounds needing to know just what befell Tristin. After all, his own company described it as both corporate sabotage and opportunistic murder. Ruthless and uncaring. 

Godfrey sat there wrapped in partially covered scars, unfinished artificial layers, and a third of the weight he used to carry about confidently. He sat there bundled up in the expectations of the public, his own disdain for the life he lived for so long, and the knowledge that the greater good required sacrifices unbecoming of an honest man. He sat there and lied. A grim determination grew inside with each word as he relayed to them all the fatal crash. His trip through the window, gravely injuring him but sparing his body of the gasoline and fire. Tristin was nothing more than a soon to be burning sack of dead flesh as he checked the neck. 

Tristin's mother knew something to be false. Godfrey's story held up to be so consistent though, uniform in its quality, that both everything and nothing was in question. She figured Godfrey was covering for someone. Perhaps they'd been carjacked and let Godfrey survive in exchange for his silence. Or they'd been attacked by looters both human and robotic. Either way, she pieced together an element of the truth no one else sans Godfrey and the nurse knew of. But he'd not budge in the face of her accusations. Not even when she clutched at him with her dwindling strength and sobbed for her lost boy. 

Godfrey would never forget how helpless he felt then. The magnitude of it all making impact as if he'd collided with the city streets a second time. Stuck there to break the spirit and soul of an entire family as they watched the last light of truth be snuffed out under a cold fist. His time at the hospital gave him ample opportunity to question his purpose. A reporter with no network to back him. A man stuck in the rubble of a life's worth of truths revealed to be falsehoods. An amputee who paid his pound of flesh for insight on the world truly worth fighting for. The how took him years to discover. Until the moment he took pen to paper, he knew nothing but aimless wandering. 

Much like Tristin's mother, he'd been devoid of hope. 

That overwhelming sensation had returned once, years since the day with the disheartened family. A second-rate county park, a destroyed bag once containing a second life's worth of knowledge, and the Robot Master who'd eventually become a symbol for faith to stay his hand from rash actions while out on the road. Godfrey knew this pain all too well. So it came to little surprise of his own when Godfrey discovered its inevitable tendrils wrapping around his heart again. The puzzle of Elec Man's arrival, pieces tumbling about from concern for the Robot Master's safety, settled before a single confirmation had been uttered. 

But he knew.

Damn it all. He knew exactly what this was. Behind guilt, a confession was the second answer of the repentant. 

- - -

Godfrey returned from the bathroom, bloodied palm sanitized and bandaged. His nails had dug deep furrows into his hand during his brief excused absence. He waved it off as a sudden need to wash up before they settled in for "whatever Elec Man had to tell them". A quick visit to a long since ignored drawer in the bedroom revealed something he'd not worn in tellingly long time. His feigned ignorance though plummeted as Knight Man immediately honed in on riding glove's appearance. Glints of white gauze flared at the wrist beneath it. They'd certainly be discussing it later. For now, though Knight Man pulled himself up from his spot on the rug and sidled in alongside Godfrey. They both had situated themselves on the couch as Elec Man prepared to discuss the nature of what bothered him so. 

A farce. But bother him it surely did, as Elec Man's rambling seemed without end. An electrical current with no output other than forward. The sarcastic tilt of his hips and coy smile were just as hollow as the LCD's beaming faintly down. They'd quite literally faded at the sight of the task before him. It reminded Godfrey, in part, of the footage scavenged from the phones of those who strayed too close during the first Wily War. Brief recordings withheld from most outlets as it documented the deaths of more than the public would ever care to know. The absent stare though that Elec Man wore? Identical. 

"As much as I would've loathed to have said this months ago, you're not exactly a forgettable man Godfrey. Picture this in that noggin of yours: you're approached by a disgraced and bizarre reporter who just so happens ask all these finicky questions about your rights. Who you love, how you love, and probably even how you love if you let him get there."

With a grinding snap of his fingers, he'd twisted to point at Knight Man. The emphasis seemed only significant to himself, but it did leave Knight Man with the slightest tilt of his head.

"And he also just so happens to be the same reporter who gave you a hard time for all this icky love business years ago."

One beat. Not for dramatic tension either. It was genuine struggle with coming to terms. He'd taken a metaphorical breath as he shifted the extended digit towards Godfrey. Elec Man saw something in Godfrey's stare that spurred him on, but the what sat beyond anyone's guess. Godfrey wasn't in much of a headspace to fathom it. 

"And he also also has a bit of a nasty reputation. An Alpha escort wouldn't touch him with a fifteen foot pole, that sort of thing."

"Hold! Ther-"

"So what do you do!? Probably anything other than what I did, because I fucked everything up. So bad."

Knight Man had tried, and failed, to put in a word in Godfrey's favor. But even his conviction floundered beneath his own confusion. It was clear now to the room that this was a confession, yet only Knight Man remained oblivious to exact nature. Still, this seemed to fuel Elec Man's struggling composure. Fizzling LCD's, shaking hands, and all the while trying so desperately to stay nonchalant. 

Strange. Why?

No. He's already aware of the why. It's self-evident. Godfrey just couldn't seem to focus on the words being flung out. Each minute detail of Elec Man's posturing instead just begged to be broken down into its component parts. Godfrey needed to stop and just listen. Distracting himself from the confession wouldn't afford any of them any real relief. But every time he tried to hone in, his own hands began to twitch. Fingers flaring out and straining to dig back into his glove impulsively. Gods. It'd yet to even begin, and still he wanted to beg for its end. 

"You were such a busy little bee! Hornet Man, that string bean gas station attendee, Knight Man, and even, yuck, Air Man. That's not even counting the dozens of little networks you wormed your way into. I panicked. Everyone who didn't know you had heard of you, or at least was all buddy-buddy with someone you chatted up."

A phoned-in demure sense of professionalism in the way he spoke, but not how he held himself. Familiar, too. Elec Man weaponized whatever standing tidbits of his personality could withhold the misery and wielded them as a shield. Knight Man sensed it too. The chassis Godfrey sat pressed up against began to cool. Faint. How long had it been heating up without his noticing?  

"So I warned them. You know what surprised me though? It was easy. Open a few tabs, look up your name, and forward that mug of yours to everyone who'd listen. I thought them cutting you off would mean you'd just give up. We would be all safe and snug and you would go do fuck knows what."

Shock infected each beat of the confession, as if hindsight depicted Elec Man as an entirely different person. Perhaps, to the Robot Master, he had been. Paranoia drove men mad. Combating the strife spoon fed to someone from prior expectations led to the furthest of reaches as justification. Life for most needed to have a purpose. It needed to make sense. Alpha and Beta Bots were no different. 

Godfrey wished he had a pen. 

"But then you showed up at the museum again and left that ugly little bag of yours. Jenny called me and told me allll about it, too. How you had Knight Man wrapped around your finger. You were all smiley and happy while ruining our future. Again! At least that's what I told myself when I took the bag home."

The cracks were spreading. Elec Man could only hide behind the towering height of his own personality for so long. Godfrey and Knight Man were just spectators for this twisted chrysalis. Should he even be seeing it as such? Something within him screamed in recognition of the play by plays here.

"I'm so sorry. Really. I should've just talked to you or Knight Man. Even our darling Saturn was chatting up a storm about this big project his dad got approached with. Instead I destroyed your camera, got you sent out to bumfuck nowhere, and sat back feeling all proud for myself."

Fascinating. Godfrey must've missed the painful scratching at his own glove in favor of watching Elec Man sit himself down. The Robot Master played off the quaking legs as a symptom of exhaustion. What design feature, or flaw, would result in a Beta Bot's weak knees? Energy flow? For an electrical generator? Surely not. Sensory overload perhaps. But the magnitude of data required for that alone would be staggering. Maybe Knight Man would know.

"And of course, Dr. Kyruio starts asking the same questions! I mean the exact same questions. A few of us thought it was weird but I played it off as him just being inspired. You know how he gets. But then he lays that bombshell of a proposal at the board's doorstep and I realize that the busy bee here did some outsourcing."

Knight Man pulled Godfrey's gloved hand into his own lap, restricting it with caring layers of metal to put an end to the self-mutilation. Elec Man took notice but only stopped his vignette at another's proud words. Barked out of a navy helmet with the authority of a militia's man at arms. Wizened experience and boisterous pride. So fierce, so unwavering loyal. Godfrey needed this man to himself later. 

"Enough! Of course he did. Your efforts were in vain."

Elec Man, with misery beyond anything he'd described thus far, frowned. He just looked at the small streak of red visible beneath Knight Man's gauntlet. A sheen just visible beyond the glove and gauze both. 

"But they weren't, darling. Look at where he is now."

There were no rebuttals. 

"I'd wanted to apologize for forever now, Godfrey. I know I'm abysmal at this but it doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about what to say. I just don't know what I can do to make things right. No one knew where you were and ironically, because of me, no one cared to poke their head out and look. Saturn is just awful at keeping secrets so when he came by asking all these coy little questions for a friend, I knew to pry the who out of him."

Godfrey mustered up some semblance of a response. Part of him recognized just what'd been confessed to him, It'd be ridiculous to expect for him to ignore the resolution of the second life defining crime to befall Godfrey thus far. But he just needed to find something to steady his feet on. He was in a tumbling free fall hurtling towards a vital realization. It'd been clawing at the back of his mind since his time in the bathroom. But what in the hell was it?

"So here you are."

"Here I am."

There they all were. Mingling in the silence. There they stayed too. When Knight Man stripped off the rider's glove and began dressing the damage with supplies he'd gotten lord knows when, Godfrey finally found himself able to take a breath. Mentally. The tracks he barreled forward on in the name of investigation didn't necessarily stop. He'd long since recognized his need to cover a situation as a coping mechanism. Instead, he began to stem the flow of coal to the engine much in the same way Knight Man stemmed the flow of blood from his oozing palm. Each antiseptic wipe a stinging reminder of how he'd need not be the man he once was. 

Such thinking wasn't necessary anymore. 

Knight Man once again pulled him to the surface from beyond the pond's depths. So he let himself breathe. Parsing through the endless information in safe company made the task manageable. Ten thoughts became five. Five became three, and three became one. A natural conclusion but from a perspective he'd willfully buried. He knew how he should feel. Furious. Outraged. Betrayed. Relieved. But nothing in the present deemed those feelings necessary. Why would it? After all, the comparison was beautifully simple. No analysis needed. This? This was familiar. 

Godfrey's own misery had been reflected tenfold by each of Elec Man's sways and ticks. Godfrey's acceptance of the new life he'd come to live came months ago. He never sought closure as in truth it was never a necessity. In its stead, he sought company. Escapism grew into a healthy freeing lifestyle. That growth provided the greatest of gifts he could've asked for: Knight Man. Elec Man, however, lived in a hell of his own personal design. Any momentum was directed downwards. He'd almost snuffed out one of the few remaining flames for his kind's future by following through with preemptive happenstance. Vile actions for all the right reasons. 

Elec Man had placed his crimson hands on the project's neck.

And pulled. 

- - -

"A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."

Godfrey, staring through the tilted blinds of his living room window, could hear Elec Man shift in surprise at the sudden quote. The faintest note of whimsy colored the returning question in response. Good. At least some life'd returned to him since they agreed to dwell on the matter. 

"Jean de la Fontaine?"

Eh. Godfrey offered up a shrug. He'd gotten it from a movie but felt it was apt enough given the situation. Much like the vast majority of the notable quotes he knew, they probably came from books originally. Knight Man would love to share a selection of his own private library if asked, so maybe it might be good to brush up on it again. This'd been the first thing that popped up in his mind after the much needed time to remedy his own thoughts. His partner was off washing the glove. Coming to terms with the situation at his own pace. It'd come up again tonight. Their mutual health depended on their communication and their ability to simply confer with each other on difficult topics.

No more hiding lingering feelings for half a year. Even his shining knight needed some coddling too . Well deserved and most certainly coming. But for now, they instead wrap up their affairs here. Elec Man knew next to nothing on how the household here operated. Being left to strew in the silence brought no sense of satisfaction. Godfrey didn't need vindication and certainly didn't find the idea of revenge appealing. 

"You had every right to be proactive. Had I been the man you thought I was, I could've easily put everyone at risk."

A holler, from around the bend and into the kitchen, fired off a counter. Swift and aimed for broad comprehensive damage. Shame that Godfrey spoke first. This was a predictable back and forth that Knight Man would have to strive to win another time. 

"We've been over this, big guy! I'd be concerned if everyone knew me like you did."

Poorly concealed laughter and the shattering of something porcelain gave Godfrey reason to smile. The plate could be replaced. The life brought back into Elec Man's light though was priceless. Gunmetal grey eyes brightened to a faint blue as Knight Man retorted with a well-meaning jab straight into Godfrey's pride. 

"True enough, my liege. As if anyone else would be fit for such a conquest!"

The static remained firm as Elec Man spoke, but Godfrey didn't expect anything different. The damage done to all parties associated would linger for months still. 

"Sooooo, when did this happen?"

Now that was a question he wouldn't be humoring Elec Man with an answer. Some comforts were still beyond the Robot Master's reach. After all, Godfrey's relationship with Knight Man told a story they alone would indulge in. Instead, another grim question came to mind regarding Elec Man's previous behavior.

"Who else knows?"

"Us three and Dr. Kyurio. Pretty sure that old coot figured it out first, bless his heart."

Excellent. Minimum damage to contain then. It'd been a betrayal quiet enough to smother in its sleep. This would be the best case scenario given what came next. No point in rocking the boat within the community when progress was so tantalizingly close to being made. All in all, this hasty decision on Elec Man's part brought about more good than harm. Godfrey just needed to keep reminding himself of that. A new life, a flourishing relationship, and the safety of the proposal in the sole hands of the best representative to plead its case. 

In all honesty, the deliberation wasn't entirely necessary now.

"Good. We're going to keep it that way. The news is nothing but a bunch of vultures."

With the blinds promptly closed, up next came what Godfrey truly was looking forward to. Hell, he'd been wanting this since his bag first wound up missing. Perhaps a portion of pettiness remained but he couldn't really be blamed for that, now could he? Godfrey grabbed the old grocery receipt off the coffee table and, with a pen found in his bedroom, got to work. He hadn't needed to consider some of these values in years. Pre-Third Generation even. It only took a few moments to shake off the rust. With a looping circle around the final total, Godfrey strode back into the living room and stooped down. Elec Man's remained hunched on the carpet, but the curiosity was there. 

"Any sane person would say we're past the point of forgiveness, honestly. But without you, I wouldn't have Knight Man in my life. You gave him my card, you forced my hand into interviewing him, and without my absence I don't think either of us would've confessed."

Godfrey's now outstretched hand, taken up gingerly by Elec Man's own, was pulled upon with remarkable ease. Elec Man felt far, far lighter than even his wildest estimations. The thought of what exactly the Robot Master got up to was quickly smothered in favor of the slip left in Elec Man's palm after they both let go. Godfrey had made up his mind. Truthfully, he was probably a little biased. Certainly blind regarding his own self worth. Deluded just a hair too in favor of causes far larger than him. Definitely suffering from one too many head injuries. 

And to top it all off, he was absolutely struck with a lovebug and wished the best for robotkind as a whole. A nasty cocktail, this. But what was wrong with a little hope? His forgiveness was present in everything but words. 

"That, by the way, is an invoice. Pay it when you can."

An invoice was putting it mildly. In truth it was for a staggering amount of money. The, admittedly rough, calculation of the monetary value for his camera, rigging, notebooks, laptop, storage devices, other miscellaneous equipment, and the shirt. The real kicker though? The wage for every hour he spent working on the project from its initial conception to the day Godfrey concluded his interview with Knight Man. If Godfrey wanted to move past the prior circumstances, he needed to at least appreciate the effort sunk into the proposal. He silently thanked the robotic overlords that the Light family had more income than they knew what to do with. 

But as Godfrey fetched Elec Man's discarded coat and prepared to hand it over as well, the Robot Master posed a question seeping vulnerability. Insecurity.

"Will this actually change anything, Godfrey?"

No. It'd been fear. Not that he could be blamed for it. The first generation was forced to watch in abject horror as each following generation afterwards marked the reduction of their already dwindling social conditions. Spiraling straight into the gutter at the whims of the media and public both. It was a living nightmare that Godfrey experienced as both the instigator and, in a way, the victim. So he offered the only truth he knew. 

"Initially? Probably not much. Hopefully it'll stop things from getting worse. But that'd never been the point of any of this. You needed exposure and public awareness. The law will give you both. If you actually want change, then you're gonna have to rally together and fight for your own rights. Don't let ignorant reporters like me slander you in interviews again for starters. 

And there was that spark of grit. Perhaps Elec Man needed to hear it from Godfrey that this was nothing more than a speedbump on the road upward. Or he just wished to hear that there was a fight that could truly be fought. Either way, they exchanged nods as Elec Man made his way to the door.

Or at least he would've if he hadn't bumped straight into the firmly stanced Knight Man. Kitchen towel slung over his currently non-armored shoulder, his presence loomed over the entire room. Godfrey could only smile at what came next. Elec Man's uncertainty left him nervous of the larger bot's intentions. Silent for the majority of the confession and known for being a staple of justice, it would seem in character for his personal sense of law to be brought down with a weighty fist. So when contact was made, Elec Man held himself as still as he could muster. Expecting treatment befitting of how he viewed his own crime.

The tight, chassis denting hug he was pulled into flouted such expectations. Knight Man's frustrations seeped into the strength he used. Not maliciously, but there definitely needed to be some repairs later. Instead he'd used his own oppressive weight to anchor Elec Man in much the same he'd done for Godfrey numerous times now. Warm words greeted them all. 

"Fear preys on the isolated. Like combating all predators, we stand united or fall alone."

Godfrey could only begin to imagine the relief present in Elec Man's returned grip. Arms wrapped around Knight Man's wide torso with clinging desperation. Healing was a dangerous road. Rife with setbacks and vicious opportunistic killers waiting to do what they could to take advantage of such vulnerability. But nowhere was it stated to be primarily a solitary affair. They'd been given the opportunity to grieve what was lost and to make amends. More importantly, they'd be together for what came next.

Elec Man, much like Godfrey, would not be alone in this. 

If all went according to plan, perhaps the entirety of robotkind would find solace in the arms of another. One day. 

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Me: Here.

Saturn Kyurio: Good! How was the trip? 

Me: Quiet mstly. He hd fun tho

Me: Been a bt snce ive driven tat far

Me: That

Saturn Kyurio: The car hold up okay? Dont take this the wrong way, but I didnt think it take his weight.

Me: Yup. Tires mght be flt tho

Saturn Kyurio: OH! Dont stress about parking btw. Most of us just hitched a ride. 

Me: Ugh. Nevr agin

Saturn Kyurio: Just saying, we've got pleeeenty of dried apple slices. 

Saturn Kyurio: Youve got some time before my dad calls so go hang out! Ill be upstairs with Watt if you need anything.

Me: Can do

-/-/-

Fourteen minutes. Soon to be fifteen and counting. Godfrey had been sitting in the driver's seat of his parked rental car for fourteen minutes since they arrived. Twelve minutes ago he'd given Knight Man a playful swat on the arm and told him to go mingle instead of loitering about alongside Godfrey. To "have fun" with the other numerous participants out and about. Even from down the road, Godfrey could make out a handful of people flitting about outside what looked to be a decommissioned observatory. A wide array of those were folks he'd normally never be in the right environment to recognize. They'd surely know of him. But that? That'd stop being an issue after today. 

Not that Godfrey had played any part in that. Alpha Bots, Beta Bots, unaffiliated citizens, and even a few shelter workers had all willingly accepted the personal invitations of Dr. Kyurio for a late Christmas party. Never mind the fact that they'd now reached the third week of January. The guise mattered little. In truth, every single soul here knew why they'd been sent to a quiet locale tucked away outside even the city outskirts. The proposal's hearing had silently come to a conclusion. When or how, no one except those in the hearing knew, but some resolution would be revealed to them all in private. Funny to think they'd be finding out after New Years. Godfrey couldn't think of anything better to wish for. 

Hope and answers. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

Seven minutes ago, Godfrey had affixed his new camcorder to the exposed shoulder mount. A familiar action absolutely laden with unexpected firsts. Looking at his reflection through the rear view mirror, it became apparent just how much changed since the last time he'd done this. The camcorder itself took on a life of its own. A grey newer model with numerous, numerous stickers sourced from everyone who knew he'd been planning on this purchase. At least half a dozen tiny knights, several pre-generation competitor robots, a snowball, a horseshoe magnet, and an officially branded chibi Elec Man. Those paired along with the logos of Dr. Light and Dr. Kyurio of course. 

It was absolutely gaudy. He'd never be able to take this into a professional environment let alone anything even remotely approaching his former career field. Godfrey adored every single bit of the camcorder's vile surface. Oozing personality and solidarity, all it took was a single hasty glance to ebb away any feeling of isolation. The stickers meant nothing more than representation to those who'd slapped them onto the casing. But to Godfrey, it represented a success almost as impactful personally as the project itself. The journey forward brought so many together. Admittedly most of it was from the official public support of Dr. Kyurio's labeled proposal. Still!

They no longer toiled away in isolation. Godfrey, indirectly or otherwise, changed the social landscape for the better. A far cry from the man he used to be. In return, they had helped return Godfrey to himself. The smile looking back at him through his own reflection only aided the difference. He was borderline physically unrecognizable to all the publicly available footage of him. The reporter, the pariah, and the park employee. Confidence and his sense of style went hand in hand, it seemed, but unfortunately he couldn't exactly go strutting around the public in pajama bottoms and a bathrobe. So this'd have to do for now. 

Knight Man liked it at least. Godfrey, readjusting his tie, pushed his door open and strode out. Not before of course taking a moment to truly assess his state of dress. Knight Man cared a great deal about Godfrey's relationship with his public perception. Neither total apathy or his previous unhealthy fixation did him any favors. Instead, they'd reached a medium through trial and error. A lot of error mostly. A painfully long period of exposure to busy open spaces combined with actual therapy. Godfrey was happy with the results. He couldn't really understate to those who cared just how thankful he was for their involvement.

He felt like himself again. 

His slicked back hair made a return. Sans the flatcap this time, once used to obscure how much of a familiar sight his hair used to be for the masses. The buttoned up shirt he'd thrown on, a generic grey just to get a disappointed sigh from Knight Man, had the sleeves rolled up completely. For comfort, sure, but also to put his prosthetic on display. Nothing to be ashamed of. His injuries weren't a searing brand scorched into his skin. Not anymore. He'd fetched an older unit without sensors and thus without the synthetic skin. Glimmering metal (courtesy of Knight Man's armor polish) reflected the setting sun beautifully. He was admittedly nervous to push himself this far in public.

But it served another purpose. His camcorder, with an array of intertwined batteries strapped to his belt, would be recording every single second of the night. The public needed to know of the lives others lived. They needed to know just how vital this night would be to them all, whether or not those tucked away at home knew of the importance yet. They needed to know that the Alpha and Beta lines both craved not vicious independence or the ability to revolt but instead the acceptance to be themselves. To be "human", crudely put. If the hearing went poorly? Well. Godfrey hoped then that the reactions filmed tonight would stand the test of time regardless. 

His gaze lingered briefly on the distant passenger seat, pleather scored with notable armor imprints. No time like the present. Knight Man would probably be chest high in conversation at this point. Ever the man of the people. Godfrey supposed he couldn't let his boyfriend take all the fun, now could he? His last attempt to fix his midnight blue tie in the mirror resulted in even worse of a knot. Eh. There'd be no interviews tonight and certainly not his own. Godfrey bumped the door shut with his leg, collecting his wits, and made way to the front door of the looming concrete observatory. To think the safety of their future would be decided in such an innocuous building. 

As innocuous as Dr. Kyurio could ever be, at least. 

- - - 

Noise. Happy buzzing tinged with hints of excitement and nerves. A boisterous sense of bravado could be felt let alone heard from each pair of shoulders Godfrey bumped into. He wondered how much would be picked up on the footage. Some things needed to be experienced and not simply watched, but unfortunately that'd be a luxury rarely afforded to the likes of themselves. The room didn't make for as excellent of a backdrop for the scene as he hoped. Probably should've expected that, Godfrey thought, as he took in the surroundings proper for what they were. Reconstruction. Hmm. Physically and socially. That? That he could play off of. No point in portraying this as a well organized group. They were just survivors mingling beneath the judicial fist. 

Producing a small flipbook from his pocket and a pen from behind his ear, Godfrey began scribbling a few notes. Points of comparison mostly. The building was in a notable state of disarray on the inside. Tarps, exposed rebar, and at least one recently used cement mixer were all fine and dandy normally. Here though, they served for a striking visual. Contrasting themes between them and the adjacent Robot Masters. Those mingling among the previous results of half-finished construction did so with abandon. For many of them, everything boiled down to the results of the hearing. Their futures and their very livelihoods. A denial would strike a devastating blow. 

"GODFREY! OVER HERE, CHECK OUT THESE ICECUBES!"

His most recent note, that on the unique contrast between a ribbon covered Napalm Man and the pile of cement mix he leaned against in conversation, ended not with a period but instead an unreadable scribble. Damn. Not that Godfrey should've been surprised that Blizzard Man would find him that quickly. His pivot over to the voice in the nearby kitchen, if you could call the hastily slapped together food and energy bar that, provided the answer he expected. As silly as it sounded to himself, Blizzard Man was just built different. Even here he stood a head taller than most of the other participants.

In the dim lighting, he looked more like an oversized wheel of swiss than a car sized street sweeper on skis. Standing there with a tray of circular ice molds in both hands like trophies. Proud as punch, hah! Maybe he should teach Blizzard that one sometime. Big beautiful bastard that he was, it was still an absolute crapshoot if he got any of the sayings right. Godfrey was torn on whether or not he needed to stage an intervention on just where he kept hearing some of the more ridiculous phrases. Children. Children was typically the answer. The softie just couldn't say no when they wished to regale him with stories. 

Godfrey tucked his notes away and ambled on over. The several stares trailing his every step weren't left unnoticed, but he couldn't truthfully give a damn. He'd been invited the same way as everyone else. There'd be no vindication on his part. Surely though they'd learn to accept him regardless. A skittish college student, if the brand new varsity jacket and young eyes were any indication, passed by with a hasty pardon in the attempt to free some space. Mostly just to get out of the way between the walking and talking refrigerator unit and Godfrey. Bit young to have been invited to something like this. Then again, both Percy and Saturn were about the same age as the kid.

Bit of a range, that, but as long as he made someone here happy. That gleam in his eyes told quite the story. Blizzard Man swept the approaching Godfrey into an absolutely frigid side hug. Godfrey had slipped out of this grip more times than he could count, but he let it be as his right side was crushed by the unfortunately solid mitts. Blizzard Man didn't hesitate to continue pulling trays of ice out of the freezer of course. A multitasker if nothing else.

"These are amazing! Do you think Dr. Kyurio would let me borrow some?"

Godfrey sidestepped out of the hug and reached up to grab a tray out of Blizzard Man's hand. The quality was immediately apparent. Fancy, even. Rubber molds depicting their solar system would be, under normal circumstances, an oddity. The "Kyurio Curiosity Observatory" inscription cast aside the notion of getting these casually. Bad news. 

"I'm...not actually sure on that one."

With a pouting hunch, Blizzard Man returned all but one of the trays into the tiny by comparison freezer.

"Shucks. But hey!"

Grabbing him by the good arm once again, Blizzard Man spun Godfrey to be face to face. A rather coy squint paired with a hushed whisper signaled what would assuredly be an embarrassing change of pace. Blizzard Man did not, could not, should not ever attempt subtlety. It just wasn't right. Or possible. 

"Word's spread around about a few things, you know? Actually, wait! You wouldn't know but you also do? About how you and Knight Man are a pair of banging bucks. Now I promise I've kept myself on mute so don't go blaming me for it this time."

A pair of banging bucks? They'd be right, not that it was any of their business. Godfrey let his urge to laugh at the ridiculous phrase pass and approached this with the same playful seriousness to match Blizzard Man's own. Just another game to play with a Robot Master who loved to experiment more than most. Godfrey held his head up high to give his voice a firm quality, something he'd used to do back when he prepared for a broadcast. Same theme, different purpose. 

"Blizz, sounds like we're dealing with an whistle blower. You got the scoop?"

He'd been answered with a nod, a single finger held up to where Blizzard Man's mouth would be (if he had one), and another digit pointing to a wall nearby. Tucked away in the cramped corner of the room was a small window flanked by a dozen picture frames. Various ages, materials, and subjects. All above a makeshift kitchen table. Now this was something Godfrey approached with genuine interest. The meager offering of daylight left outline an old rocking chair positioned at the head of the table. Even from here, he could make out multiple initials carved into the back. J.K, S.K, A.K, and several others underneath. 

Hmm. Godfrey gave the room another quick glance, realizing more than he'd initially given the space credit for. Dr. Kyurio's renovations to the building were more personal than professional. Enough to bring a family heirloom to sit on, at least. It made sense then why everyone avoided the corner. The old man's personal life, that beyond even the knowledge of the Robot Masters he surrounded himself with, remained an entirely private affair. So Godfrey made a mental note to tweak this portion of the footage if necessary as he stepped away and back towards the kitchen. 

The one picture frame Godfrey did look at for more than a moment though, a recent one adorned with swords and shields, held a picture all too familiar to him. It was his uneasy selfie at the Robot Wars arena. The sentimental bastard must've gotten it from Knight Man sometime after Godfrey kicked the relationship into high gear. Cute. Perhaps he needed to send more if a simple photo like this made Dr. Kyurio so happy. Blizzard Man regarded him warmly as he returned from his little rendezvous with picture destiny. 

"It's all anyone here talks about."

Well that was unexpected, Godfrey thought. Typically that could only mean one thing. 

"What, us?"

"Relationships. There's a love bug going around, I think you'd call it. Dr. Kyurio's proposal got people coming out of the steelwork with all these secret relationships."

Interesting, then. It made sense given the situation though. The doctor specialized in bringing would-be couples together. Godfrey never quite questioned the reach or extent before now. Looked to him that Valentine's Day had come a month early if this was Cupid's gathering. Although, upon further reflection, that brought up an interesting dilemma. A little nugget that Blizzard Man definitely hadn't intended to reveal. 

"Alright, tell me. Who's got a snowman warming the bed?"

Blizzard Man played it as cool as his namesake. That's new. Someone's been practicing. Anyone that atrocious at keeping quiet didn't simply just improve this drastically at a whim. But when the Robot Master straightened up and looked off like an aloof raccoon, it all made sense where this mysterious aid came from. Further grounded by a phrase next to no one in their right mind would say.

"A bot doesn't kiss and tell."

Absolutely wretched. The damage had been done, there truly would be no saving Blizzard Man now.

"Elec Man is a bad influence on you."

Godfrey hadn't a clue who Blizzard Man decided to win over, but he hoped they'd prepared their home for unrelenting snow, a great deal of broken shovels, and absolute gem of a soul. His retort wasn't exactly met with the reaction he'd hoped though. Instead, Godfrey was simply shooed away when a faint ringtone began rattling from inside Blizzard Man's head. Convenient timing and it surely heralded a conversation Godfrey would love to be a fly on the wall for. 

"Go on, get! Don't look at me that way, let me have this."

And with that, Godfrey was once again thrown back to the wolves. Left to his own devices with nothing more than a camcorder and a flipbook to jot his findings in. Could be worse, honestly. He was in his element. Free to roam and explore yet at a social distance where few would approach him for a discussion. His mere presence at the party no doubt threw some questions into the story they'd all been told. After all, why would a notorious anti-rights reporter be invited at Dr. Kyurio's behest? Maybe less than a handful of those on the first floor would spend any real time considering it. They'd far more important things to focus on.

Such as each other. Incidentally or not, this surely had to be the largest social gathering of Beta Bots in years. The magical number to Roboticists across the globe seemed to be eight. An absolutely baffling number that apparently Dr. Light swore by. That certainly wasn't the case here though. At least a dozen Robot Masters could sound off in a headcount alone just within earshot. So many minute interactions given life by the circumstances they all found themselves in. So incredibly alive. Both hands itched to go to work. To continue his documentation in such a uniquely suited setting. 

Perhaps, Godfrey thought, one more memoir wouldn't hurt.

- - -

Subject: Robotkind
Universal Creations of the Board of Robotics
Independent Units, Serials Unknown

I'm not a biologist. By all accounts, I'm sure my knowledge of even my own body is rather lacking. But I've never been under the impression that our concept of life fits all nice and snug into the field. Many say life is dictated by the ability to draw breath. But we have to stretch that definition for plants, fungi, and a wide plethora of other organisms so ridiculously small that operate just a hair differently. In such a comparison, would we say the grass beneath our feet is as alive as our fellow man? Some would argue yes, and others would turn to the concept of sentience. A tale as old as the very bacteria we breathe in. 

Sentience would in turn counter the very notion of life previously described by their ability to draw breath. Alpha and Beta Bots are thriving if we're to run with that idea. But we continue to hastily correct and defend ourselves. No, it's more than an issue of sentience now as they say. Sentience with biological components. So then, where does Plant Man fit in? What, a singular exception to an ever changing rule? Boiling him down to his base components reveals that Robot Masters are practically a species of their own. Such "environmental distinctions" necessitate it. You could even call them adaptations if you stretched far enough. 

So, in my less than professional opinion, it's all moot. I can't stand up to a panel of scientists and argue that a service bot is just as alive as I am. I lack the gritty knowhow of those who've spent half their lives in lecture halls and labs. But if there's anything I do know, out of everything picked up over my rather eventful careers, it's people. The benchmark of sentience, personality, and life above all else from the loudest of supremacists to the quietest of doormice beancounters. A universal truth to the public. No one in their right mind would hesitate to say we're brimming with life. Potent and rambunctious, but alive.

So as I stand here, watching these countless robots enjoy the simplest parts of life in each other's company, I'm all too keenly aware what others would see. Machines following pre-established programming. So intricate as to resemble human life and our base functions. And once, I would've agreed with them. To do so now would be ignoring all the little annoying nuances that make us us. Scientists and engineers are efficient in their work. I pose a question to you all: why in the unholy hell awaiting us all would they install such frivolous programs then? Minuscule tendencies that someone would only truly encounter in the throes of life. Things humans see other humans do.

I see strength willfully undermined by ambition. 

A Robot Master, dressed in soft blues and a gaudy transparent glacier headpiece, has sequestered himself away in a corner. Posted up with an impressive set of cold shoulders too. It's fitting given his apparent theming. And yet he's still being relentlessly flirted with by a college student much younger than the typical demographic here. It's a man reaching his prime, knowing just what he wants, trapping his prize. I can see equally bashful and shit-eating grin on the student's face. He's spotted exactly what had been intended: cracks. It's the minute details that he and I both watch with avid curiosity now. 

An angled body towards the "assailant". 

His LCDS's, looking away, flit over his peripherals when the man becomes distracted.

It's a game. Opening his posture up more to signal the opportunity to strike, only to present a frigid face and a hidden smile. I'm certain they'll be leaving together tonight. Good for them, I say. If he was nothing more than commands ran through processed lines of code, then surely drawing the affair out would counteract any semblance of efficiency. It's a balance between too much and too little. That's not dictated by a mathematical equation. Instead, I'd argue that's instead the reaction from someone who enjoys another man's company and wishes to delve further. A literal mating ritual. I suppose screws are part of the bigger picture. 

I see love of the moment overpower logical efficiency. 

Hornet Man's toiling away at an outdated video calling booth. A mechanic Alpha Bot and a few Mets have joined him in this little conquest. I know it's far easier to simply teleport home for them. It's not my place to do so, but I just want to shout out a question of why? About every source of power can be found littering the kitchen, furniture, and sections of the floor around us. Not all robots were created in fuel efficiency. To make that trip back to his goliath of a cat and an equally burly boyfriend would be incredibly easy. Barely an inconvenience even. Yet they continue to struggle away with technology that probably hasn't worked in half a decade.

But I smile with them. I can't help it, really. The screen flashes on with a massive ginger beard and our entire side of the room cheered. A loud moment of fun subsiding back into the standard affairs of each other. They're all surrounded by likeminded souls. Human and robot both. Hornet Man is there, speaking with the man he loved, all the while waiting for the announcement that'd set them free of so much torment. The decision to stay made zero sense logistically. But when seen as something done by a living, feeling thing? Well, now the reasoning is obvious. 

I see the sacrifice of the task at hand in exchange for the comfort of proximity. 

They've got this poor, poor raggedy couch here. It's all but died out in the middle of the room like a sad lump of potatoes. Hastily pushed forward a few feet in front of it, held up by a rather dutiful Flash Man, is a flatscreen television. A good chunk of the second generation had sought each other out to do nothing more than play a game. Most would think that robots can't find joy in activities like this as they'd surely be perfect at it. To that, I say that they've never seen a man with drills for hands play a cart racing game. Firmly sitting atop a thoroughly crushed but still participating crimson Robot Master, they both are giving the contest their all.

Poorly, I must admit, as neither put themselves in a position to do well in the first place. But that's exactly the plight I find so admirable. Having recently stumbled into a relationship myself, this rings louder now than it ever would've years ago. Dating a Robot Master brings about a few sacrifices that have to be made. Sacrifices that, in accordance to standard programming, would never even be remotely considered. Why would a simple machine willingly throw its chances at completing its assigned task away because of the sensation of another man resting atop its lap?

You may inherently know the answer, much as we do here. That's precisely the point. Feelings. These illogical choices fueled by illogical emotions are far more indicative of life than any textbook could describe. This right here is the future I've been fighting for. It's so obvious that we're all capable of rational thought. Of feeling. So all they need to do now is show you, if you'll just let them. I've done my part to open your eyes. So maybe in the future, a better future shaped by our mutual ability to love and to live, we'll be seeing each other again. But what do I know? I'm just a man with a camera.

- The Memoirs of Godfrey Merrick

- - -

Perhaps Godfrey lingered atop the stairwell longer than he should've. A few passed by, asking politely for him to step aside, but he didn't quite take the hint. Instead he kept himself as still as possible at its mouth. His camcorder pointed away from those who intruded on this little moment and instead towards the metal reinforced balcony across the room. Gazing up at the stars in a seated position, Knight Man watched in utmost fascination as Star Man illuminated outlines of constellations. It was only a few feet above their heads but the magic of the moment could be felt regardless. Godfrey couldn't hear what exactly they were speaking about over the noise of this makeshift auditorium.

He didn't really need to though. Knight Man's wide-eyed joy was infectious. Godfrey thought better than to simply interrupt the little display so instead he searched about for someone else to mingle with. It didn't take him very long. A few familiar faces, sure, but the back of a particularly lanky brunette sent Godfrey over like a news van without breaks. Although in this occasion, he stopped himself before it could become a socially fatal collision. His friend busied himself with a small plate of olives and doom scrolled through some news feeds. Always the worrier. 

Godfrey simply tapped on Percy's shoulder and snaked his other to grab the plate. This, of course, was a necessity as Percy flinched hard enough that he would've sent the contents into orbit. He whipped around with coals under his feet. He wouldn't be the only one shocked though as Percy, upon seeing it'd been Godfrey who rudely intercepted his media binge, threw himself into a tight and all consuming hug. Occasionally throwing a weak punch at Godfrey's now healthily padded out stomach. Knight Man liked seeing his "liege" eat, so who was he to judge? Still far healthier now than he used to be. 

It was like being wrapped up in a tree with fists. Had Percy gotten taller?

"You're a real prick."

"Really succinct there, Percy. Nice to see you too."

Percy stepped back, eyes blown wide in indignation and gushy feelings, before coming to a quiet realization at Godfrey's state of dress. Like he needed a moment to really take in what he was seeing. The hair in particular got some side eye that didn't instill him with confidence. Ouch. 

"Wow. You disappear for almost a year and suddenly show up looking like a big shot again! I thought you didn't wanna be a reporter after it blew up in your face."

Low blow, and Percy knew it too, but there was an unspoken concern lingering between the lines. Percy wasn't aware just what he could say given the circumstances, and Godfrey didn't feel it right to speak of it here. It was all in good fun though. Besides, the poet had more than enough excuses to vent a little of his frustration into this little reunion.

"It blew up the arm, not my face. Get your facts straight. No wonder you still work at a gas station."

A smarmy smile, with a genuine look of joy bleeding through, ushered Percy into a hastily told explanation. Practically bursting at the seams with enthusiasm for a life lived beyond Godfrey's typical purview. Seemed the time as of late treated the young man with nothing but kindness. Good. He deserved it.

"About that! I took your advice to heart and, with a little help from Air Man, started applying myself elsewhere. I even thought about looking into your old park position since you were, you know, gone, but that kinda fell apart. Anyway! I work in records now with city's library! They needed someone who didn't mind working the long hours. Guess who gets to borrow whatever books they want and gets to have the keys to the back door?"

Percy made quite the display of pulling a small key ring out from his torn jeans, rattling them with a proud flair.

"That's right! Did you know that Air Man, believe it or not, loves the library? I mean in small doses. You'd think with the whole paper is wood thing he'd be weirder about it. So we've been spending most of our afternoons there."

Godfrey couldn't really think of anything meaningful to say. Hell. What could he even add to this? Percy was moving up and on in his life. Still in an ever developing relationship, a new job somewhere significantly safer, and with connections now to those who'd certainly take care of him if anything ever arose. The relief he felt was palpable but he kept that to himself. When one chapter ended, another began in its place. Robotkind would need people young and passionate to push this fight forward. Percy fit the model to a tee.

His softened expression, apparently, didn't sit well with Percy.

"Oookay. What's changed?"

"Hmm?"

Tapping a pattern out on his leg in thought, he took a moment to figure out the best way to put it into words. His solution? Bringing a hand up and gesturing vaguely at Godfrey's whole self.

"This."

Ah. Very descriptive. 

"You know, maybe the Poet nickname isn't accur-"

Godfrey wasn't afforded the opportunity to continue his casual roast. Instead, he'd been swiftly and abruptly thrown over a sturdy shoulder being carried off like a princess rescued from a tower. Any surprised drowned beneath the immediate realization that only one person had the balls to do this while also being aware of the care needed to not jostle the camcorder too much. Godfrey wasn't sure what was worse: Percy's surprised "CALL ME LATER!" accompanied with a wolf whistle of a few unwanted spectators, or the fact that Godfrey just learned how much he enjoyed being slung about like this. 

Good to know for later. 

He shot a feigned glare as far back as his head would pivot (damn his metal spine).

"Big guy, now really isn't a good time for this."

As a response, Knight Man dropped Godfrey to his feet, spun him around, and gestured forwards. A stage consisting of nothing more than a glorified soapbox and some standing speakers. Saturn was there too, fighting a wall outlet's surge protector only for an approaching Elec Man to yank the cord away and clasp it in both electrified hands. Their company otherwise was relatively sparse. Mostly. Looking upwards, following the speaker's wiring along some exposed metal lining in the walls, revealed an upside down Magnet Man tying together an unholy mess of cables.  

If that didn't tell Godfrey enough, the noise migrating their way from downstairs all but assured it. A silent sense of urgency had joined them without his noticing. Too involved with Percy's rambling to notice the quite frankly ridiculously heavy Knight Man stomp up behind him, so no wonder this escaped him until now. But this was it. 

It was time. 

Dozens pushed in and made room in what Godfrey initially considered to be a spacious upper floor. Now they'd be lucky if there was a spot on the floor not covered in someone's, or something's, soles. Knight Man's steadying presence behind him did more than keep him focused on what was to come. It kept him standing. No matter how many people bumped into them or tried to shove for more space, Knight Man budged not an inch. They parted up and around them like a rock dividing a river's flow. Godfrey peered back to catch a briefly gloating Knight Man looking down at the royalty he'd sworn himself to protect. Gaze soft, proud of things yet to come. 

"I apologize if my grip leaves you uncomfortable, my liege."

Oh? He hadn't even noticed that Knight Man's gauntlet had slid down to steady itself. On Godfrey's hip, with a tightness typically reserved for more private settings. Safety was paramount though and he'd not be questioning whatever Knight Man deemed necessary. So instead he just bumped the back of his head against Knight Man's chestplate as they waited for the crowd to settle. It wouldn't take long, in truth, although the brief moment resting on his stalwart boyfriend calmed the rising nerves. 

The speakers crackled to life with a ringtone Godfrey actually recognized, startling him more for a moment than the actual call itself. It was a little love ballad about a robot struggling with magnetism, from an excellent band which also produced the same song Godfrey used for his own ringtone. Shame they'd never reached the fifth generation. Still though, excellent taste. But that mattered little compared to what came next. Even before the announcement, before the phone was even answered, there was the silence. Such a polar opposite to the noise that'd made up the evening leading up to this. 

The effect that took hold of those around him was absolutely remarkable. Godfrey's window to truly appreciate it was brief, but he made sure to capture every fleeting second of it. Many of those who'd bore witness to shocking or devastating news be relayed to others claimed that someone "stopped breathing" in anticipation. A trope if nothing else. Holding each muscle still as they waited for a bomb to drop. Here, in this barely stable observatory, it became a reality. Everything quite literally stopped. Not a single creak of metal, the hiss of hydraulic pressure, or the crackling of heated motors. 

Those who took to breathing as a comforting habit reverted to their base function. Fascinating. Godfrey was standing among statues, awaiting their fates like a chisel to stone. Just what type of detail would be carved into their souls next? Only time would tell. Saturn's shaky voice echoed out above Godfrey's head and with that, the imagery dissipated. Replaced only with anticipation.

"You're live, pops. Go for it!"

The rustling of paper distorted beyond casual recognition over the speakers. Fortunately, Godfrey had spent far too much time shifting through reports in his spare time. It'd been followed by a swift apology from Dr. Kyurio. None of them cared though. They could have an axle grinder taken to their spines and still wouldn't budge until the outcome was announced. Now that was something the good doctor saw to with a particularly notable glee. That was a good sign. Right?

"Good evening! I take it that everyone's had a splendid night so far? No accidents, all my walls in one piece?"

Murmured cheers tentatively sat alongside the silence. No one wanted to rupture the bubble they lingered in. Not without Dr. Kyurio's appropriate say so at least. And, to Godfrey's knowledge, everything sans the couch downstairs was intact. Just another reminder how sacrificial any sort of home decorating was in the wake of robotkind's desire to sit on things. Relentlessly. 

"I see, I see. Well you'll have to excuse the theatrics then! The board came to a decision after a painfully long deliberation period, the dullards that they are sometimes."

The papers returned, and with it Godfrey's awareness that his heart was still beating. Pulsing through his chest, stomach, and throat like a hand repeatedly squeezing his veins. What sense he'd come to rely on fell to the wayside in favor of simply listening above his own violent pulse. The definition of the future they'd soon found themselves in was a mere moment away. For better or for worse. This was it. Godfrey wondered if the ringing in his ears would pick up on the camera with it being so close to his neck. There'd been studies conducted on that. 

Focus. 

"Ahem-"

Asimov's Seventh Law:
"All Robots with the capacity for human level, or equivalent, emotional artifacting and reasoning shall not be discouraged nor withheld from the pursuit of love."
- Dr. Java Kyurio and Godfrey Merrick

Godfrey wasn't sure who moved first. Perhaps it served like a wave, washing over them in rows and liberating them from the shackles that bound them to this drowning ship. Or it was a simultaneous release. Dr. Kyurio's announcement shot off as a starting pistol and it accomplished just the same results. Everyone, everywhere, ran their own mile. All within the confines of the second story of a poorly refurbished observatory. Whatever else the doctor had to say was lost immediately beneath the racket as the speakers exploded into colorful electrified shrapnel. Elec Man, having lost his bearings, collapsed against the wall in relief. 

But the sudden chaos wasn't from the rain of heated plastic and metal raining upon them. Sans the few humans, who were promptly protected, it posed no threat. Instead they cheered for their lives. Jumping about, pulling each other into chassis crushing hugs or in some cases outright decking one another with the momentum alone. Drinks were spilled with tanks thrown about. Mug sized confetti promptly crushed beneath the boots of the heavier Robot Masters. Or, in some cases, serving as a tripping hazard for the smaller models. But not a single moment was lost to anything other than simply living. 

It was beautiful. This wasn't just a new chapter to add to the story of their lives. This announcement, the revelation that hope still remained, defined their entire future. Something to hold onto and fight for with their very being. No longer would they remain unobservant and silent while their rights were deprived from them. They'd been given a taste of what could be achieved by some grit, countless sleepless nights, and a damn pond. In hindsight, the latter mattered far more than he'd ever willingly mention. 

Godfrey never got to see any of it then. Only after he retrieved his dismounted camcorder days later and reviewed the footage would he be given a perspective beyond the bliss of his own. Instead, he'd been pulled behind Knight Man in the infinitesimal second between the speakers rupturing and the hail of dangerous metal. They stood the closest to the podium Something inside Knight Man severed at the intense burst of speed. Like a pipeline being cut, fluid trickled along the reversed lower half of his chassis and pooled beneath his oversized boots. But they both had much more important things to dwell on.

Fuck. For a lack of a better word. His name was on the law! He'd been credited not just as a contributor, but a founder. A non-board representative heralded as a vital portion of modern robotics. It'd not been in vain. Godfrey finally accomplished something good in the same scope as the damage he once caused. Truly. Beyond a simple comfort given to another, beyond the day to day tending of shrubs or snow covered roads. His sacrifices big and small meant a future worth galaxies more than the time he'd lost. Godfrey desperately hoped the nurse bot heard the news. Wherever it was, if it even still existed beyond a heartless scrap yard.

He didn't give a damn if they hadn't the faintest clue of who Godfrey was. Instead, he just wished they knew a promising future awaited them now. He couldn't have done it without their intervention. More than his own life had been saved that day. As Knight Man spoke with a twitch, the mostly harmless internal damage meaning little, Godfrey reminded himself of where they stood now. 

With each other, surrounded by those who know knew just as well as he did that this was a momentous start.

"My liege, soon all shall wish to partake in your company as they surely should. They must abide my shield and wait their turn. But please, I implore you. Allow me this moment to indulge."

As if Knight Man even had to ask. Godfrey brought up a wavering hand squarely to his boyfriend's chest and held it there. Enjoying the heating metal and the power lingering beneath. Benevolent, caring, and unendingly loyal. Godfrey's goal may have been reached, but he'd certainly never have achieved it alone. 

"Don't cut yourself so short. Or in half, big guy. You'll win their affection back soon enough. It's no contest anyway~"

Knight Man shook his head. A slow affair, given the weight, but its speed increased alongside the glare of his LCD's. Crimson hues flaring not from anguish but pride. Whatever with that typically matched Godfrey's own stumbled beneath the volume of emotions bristling at the surface of Knight Man's plate. So when the Robot Master hastily lifted his helmet and dropped it to the floor (taking out a notable chunk of concrete), Godfrey offered a reassuring grin. The world may be lost in the throes of celebration beside him, but that wasn't Godfrey's world. Not completely. His stood before him. 

Speaking the silliest of things.

"Thank you."

Oh? Godfrey wasn't ashamed to admit that Knight Man made most of this possible. To call their work together a defining collaboration was a blatant understatement. What about this wasn't obvious?

"What for?"

Godfrey took the final step forward to bridge the gap between them. It looked as if Knight Man had intended to, but chances were they'd be getting nowhere fast if they waited. It'd not been for a kiss. Instead, with their foreheads gently pressed together, they simply shared a proximity no other would dare partake in. Nor would they be granted such a privilege to inquire about the vulnerability otherwise. Knight Man never showed his head in public. 

"This."

Oh.

The noise around them quieted in time, pushing and shoving its way downstairs and out the front door. Even in their jubilee filled haste they were unable, or unwilling, to rattle this moment of isolation shared between them both. Tuning out the rest took wonderfully little effort. Even now, they'd become aware of the sounds unique to them and them alone. Godfrey's perpetually hitched breath, the symptom of an accident that both killed and set him free. Knight Man's more frequent than not purging of excess heat at quiet intervals, the symptom of a coincidental meeting at a county park reception desk. 

Perhaps Godfrey's aspirations for the future going forward were nothing more than a fantasy. Bound in pulp and leather, inked with the sweat of redemption. The wild dreams of a man who wronged the world and thus let it prey upon him as compensation. But who could fault him for wishing for such things to become reality? He'd learned so much from his struggles for and with robotkind. Lessons etched into his heart by a bulky metal gauntlet aided with grace befitting a knight tending to a lover. 

Take the time to appreciate the smaller things, even in the face of a far bigger picture.

Never let the fear of judgement stop an attempt to reach out for help.

Sometimes, it's okay to simply believe in stories of knights in shining armor and fairytale endings

"On your word, big guy."

Chapter Text

-/-/-

Saturn Kyurio: You need to keep it to just us, okay? I havent even told Skull Man and we still live with him.

Me: My lips r seald

Saturn Kyurio: I know youve got work that day, but it wouldnt be right if either of you werent there. You two bozos really made this possible.

Me: Knight is excitd and i knw u need spprt

Me: Count us n

Saturn Kyurio: YESSSSS

Saturn Kyurio: Want me to go over the details again? This needs to be perfect.

Me: No ur good

Me: See u there

Saturn Kyurio: Remember! Be discrete and bring your camera. Okay?

Saturn Kyurio: Godfrey?

-/-/-

"As unbecoming of me as it is to question your methods, my liege, perhaps leaving him on read isn't the wisest of options?"

Tilting his head up slightly from where it sat in Knight Man's lap, he too doubted his so called methods. It wasn't as if Godfrey enjoyed leaving a frantically nervous man alone to the wolves of their own plan. Saturn deserved for his little surprise to go swimmingly and if he needed some assistance to achieve that, then so be it. There was just one tiny little detail that crippled Godfrey's ability to really contribute to the cause. Comparatively small when considering the scope of what'd been proposed. Saturn didn't see it as an issue, but everyone else surely would. How could they not given the facts? So...

Just how the hell would Godfrey and Knight both be discrete?

The Light Museum of Robotics by itself attracted more attention than what the space could admittedly handle. Dr. Light was considered the reigning king of tourism in the city alone purely for his labeled sites. That widespread popularity only exploded after the announcement of the Seventh Law of Robotics. People near and far wanted to see just how human their robotic counterparts could be. For better or for worse. It hadn't been an intended consequence of Dr. Kyurio or Godfrey when they'd approached each other at the diner. Tourism and public appeal did go hand in hand. The notion of loving a robot appealed to more than one would expect. 

That issue compounded on the fact that Knight Man was, especially now two years later after his first appearance, a renowned celebrity. Roboticists adored him, the media loved him, and the fans were raving lunatics that put even the Robot Master off on occasion. Their attempts to hammer out a parasocial relationship with Knight Man was swiftly shot down at his own behest. Godfrey's involvement at this point was unavoidable for a multitude of reasons. This didn't stop the more dedicated though as they saw him as an obstacle to overcome on their journey to woo "MidKnight". A silly name slapped together in shipping culture without a pairing. 

Shipping culture over Godfrey's boyfriend. Just a bit strange to dwell on but he wasn't in a position to judge. He was just as smitten. Such a shame that his beloved Robot Master got to him first, a fact he quietly kept to himself with the smug attitude of a bandit. Chosen by a soul far greater than the sum of his parts. Which, by definition, was already worth who knew how many digits. The impact made on Godfrey's life couldn't be calculated numerically. Instead he factored it in the moments between the hubbub of their busy lives. Such as now. Lounging over Knight Man's outstretched legs on a reinforced futon screaming for death. 

He'd stretched his phone up into Knight Man's head space with the screen absolutely blaring into crimson optics. Not necessary in the slightest as he had nigh perfect version. More of an emphasis than a reminder, really, and the casual air about the gesture left him giddy as he spoke even still.

"You're right, but look! I don't even know what we're supposed to say to this. Of course Saturn, we'd love to flood the museum with dozens of uninvited guests who'd rather shag a robot than shake their hand. That's just perfect for the mood."

Knight Man "hmm"d as he took in the texts again. Typically any public function they were invited to devolved into one of three outcomes. The fans find them both and overwhelm the locals like a horde of locusts, someone remembered Godfrey more for who he once was than the man he'd become and starts trouble, or the floor gives out. They're only really been invited to three events so the odds weren't looking the best. Biased sample size be damned. Just like the impeccably stressed Saturn, Knight Man too refused to see sense beyond what was to be represented by their attendance. 

"That'd we be delighted to assist however he sees fit. With you to guide our purpose beyond such simple orders, we'd err not. I refuse to let public tomfoolery cow me."

Mhm, sure. As if anything involving the two of them would be that easy. Godfrey bonked Knight Man's helmet with the front of his phone case before letting it drop back down. He had no intention of responding just yet. In return, Knight Man simply stared down at him expectantly. Unwavering but not relentless. Patient. But Godfrey could see the subtle signs that his boyfriend wasn't quite done with the discussion. They'd metaphorically drawn their arms for a duel. 

"Don't you start now"

Knight Man would, in fact, start now.

"Surely we could wing it?"

"Wing it!?"

Knight Man's quiet hunch as Godfrey pulled his head and shoulders out of the padded lap was indicative of a punishment best served cold. Of course the offense was merely in jest, as was the very notion proposed. But still! Wing it? When had Godfrey ever just thrown himself into something without some semblance of preparation. But Knight Man's slowly squinting digitized eyes followed the unspoken line of logic. Damn. There'd been the pond. Inviting Knight Man over to the shack, and of course the exile. Now thinking about it, even asking Knight Man out was about as impromptu as it got. 

That didn't even include the multitude of examples specifically catered to or around Knight Man's presence in Godfrey's life. So perhaps there was more to the suggestion. Knight Man couldn't simply win a duel on a half-hearted submission. He instead steadied himself and fired a tactically planned interception. Twas a foundation establishing fact that defined this entire proposed outing.

"Tis a joyous moment of celebration, but far be it from ours to plan. Leave Saturn to his conquest. Not that you'd do much better at sequestering away such secrets~"

The arena buzzer might as well ring out. There'd be no contesting that point and they both knew it. Godfrey instead got to his feet and stretched his stiffened spine. Knight Man's full plate never failed to ravage his back when they'd cuddled up between work hours. The robotic overlords above help the poor souls who slept with Robot Masters without a metal laden spine. It offered ample opportunity to dwell on the next most important question. 

"How do you think he'll react? You and Saturn know him better than I do."

Knight Man waggled a flattened hand in the air, uncertain in both how he spoke and what he said. Some people were elusive even to the conversation hungry.

"In truth? Saturn best not expect any footage to survive the ordeal."

Ahah, a challenge if there ever was one. He'd plenty of practice to be drawing from now. Godfrey, alongside his main job, started a few smaller hustles in the Summer the first year after the snow began to melt. One of his more popular ones just so happened to be as a videographer for events. Specifically those with, around, or generally involving Alpha and Beta Bots both. Dr. Kyurio kept tagging along as his plus one, as proud of a father figure as he could reasonably be. Godfrey still firmly believed the old man's real reasoning behind it boiled down to looking for more lonesome individuals to pair up. 

A look at the dinky clock above Knight Man's head tabled the conversation for later. Only a few minutes left before they went live. How time flies when you're horrifically losing duels. Godfrey reached out with his left hand as an offer, the dull metal gleaming under the artificial lamplight they kept in Knight Man's refurbished dressing room.

"I'll figure something out. You ready, big guy?"

Knight Man's white gauntlet locked hands with Godfrey's dented arm prosthetic, forever remaining as such after he rolled over it in bed a month prior. Pulling Knight Man up was physically impossible but the gesture tickled them both just the same.

"On your word, my liege."

They ran through the same-song motions then. A dime a dozen the past few years while still uniquely their own. Their jobs necessitated their mutual presence. Anyone who thought little of making the most of their unique situation were dense beyond saving. Godfrey would smooth out Knight Man's cloth tabbard, tucking the edges beneath or around the contour of the plate. The official merchandise was finally catching on that Knight Man's new insignia was here to stay. It was quite the point of contention on online forums. Just what did it represent? Why the sudden change, and why was it so vital for it to remain in perfect condition outside combat?

Knight Man always provided the same answer, each and every time. 

"Loyalty"

God, did Godfrey love this man. Knight Man in these moments of preparation would in turn do his very best to fix Godfrey's ever changing tie. Even if it was in perfect order. All with with one hamfisted gauntlet and purposefully sloppy motions. Needless to say, it'd always been entirely for his Robot Master's secretly aloof sense of humor. No complaints there even if they'd torn a few cheap ties in half already. Pushing a few buttons here and there became commonplace in their relationship. Godfrey found a few ways to get him back for the shenanigans. Stickers sometimes would just "magically" find their way onto Knight Man's helmet. 

Knight Man was nothing if not punctual, so they'd spend the last minute leaning against each other. Not doing anything in particular either. Sometimes checking through logs, unread texts, or downing a few digital pages of a book in Knight Man's case. The proximity was what mattered most to them. They'd first started doing it due to Godfrey's nerves with the new position. Now? A ritual they'd trade nothing to replace. A schedule to follow brought order and stability in an perpetually fluctuating landscape. They'd lucked out with it too. After all, they both excelled in disrupting each other's routine in the best way possible: with themselves.

A brief kiss on the side of Knight Man's helmet later, after the Robot Master held the door open for them both of course, and off they went. Two separate directions in the same hallway. While Knight Man took to his placement in the arena, Godfrey's spot was much higher up. Stairs upon stairs upon stairs. Above even the audience's glass protected stands where he'd once loitered about during the rounds before he'd been flagged down for the position. The ramparts, Godfrey recalled the spots being called. Fitting. Not that he'd be calling where he sat now a throne. Only Knight Man deemed it such.

Godfrey's seat was with his fellow announcers and commentators at the apex of the interior stadium. Each step closer jarred his nerves despite having made this trip for at least half a year now. The circumstances still left him baffled. Forever thankful, but baffled. He'd been invited on the basis of what they called "internal recommendations". Knight Man refused to say a word on the matter. The exact amount of work required to get an outsider a position as incredibly popular as a commentator on Robot Wars was beyond the scope of a single Robot Master. Godfrey's sneaking suspicions were kept mostly to himself.

Best not to look gift robots in the mouth. 

He truthfully was just glad to be working in the public again. Even more so with this than his time spent as a reporter and newscaster. People weren't listening to him now for facts or informative opinions. He layed the new groundwork for that with the proposal's approval. The obligation to continue the fight fell onto their shoulders now. Instead, the public watched Robot Wars for the sheer entertainment factor. Grand spectacles of showmanship and superior engineering, all the while Godfrey and two others rambled on like professionally paid fanboys. They were all prone to their own biases, of course. Part of the fun. 

Godfrey, when he'd been approached, told the executives the long and short of the situation as bluntly as possible. 

Yes, he was dating a House Robot.

Yes, it was Knight Man.

No, he would not refrain on commentating when Knight Man pulverized something.

Why? Because that carnage was hot as hell. Let him have this.

Well, Godfrey didn't quite phrase the last point in such a vulgar fashion. Either way he refused to budge on his relationship. They liked him regardless and thus hired him on within a week. Contracts and stipulations aside, the obligations were remarkably well suited for him. The pay was nothing to scoff at either. So Godfrey did his best to keep things a secret from his boyfriend until his first day announcing above the stands. Other than an uncomfortable light show and a blown LCD, Knight Man took the news well. He made his excitement well known later that night once they'd both returned home. 

With his metal fingers splayed on the front of the booth's entryway, Godfrey took a moment to collect himself. Focusing his breathing, straightening his posture, and tweaking the thoroughly destroyed knot his tie once was in. Oh, and of course. One last obligation to see through. Saturn would certifiably lose his mind if left on read for however long it took to film this next segment of the episode. Godfrey's involvement in the little shindig was assured. Maintaining order and retrievable footage of it? Perhaps not so much. Who knew though! Perhaps the chaos would serve them well? It'd certainly done wonders for Godfrey.

All starting with a shieldless knight wandering through his front door.

-/-/-

Saturn Kyurio: YESSSSSS

Saturn Kyurio: Want me to go over the deets again?

Me: No ur good. 

Me: See u there

Saturn Kyurio: Remember! Be discrete. Okay?

Saturn Kyurio: Godfrey?

Me: Of crse

Me: I do hv a questn tho

Saturn Kyurio: Did I miss something important?

Me: Yes

Me: U sure the rng wll come off Watts fingr?

Saturn Kyurio: OH

Saturn Kyurio: Uh

Saturn Kyurio: Thats a problem for a later me. 

-/-/-